#the only posted this bc a few of these have been sitting in my files for a while now and wanted them out lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maggiedelusional · 2 years ago

Text

Superstar (Part 1)

Pairing: Rooster x f!reader, (blink and you'll miss it, unrequited) Hangman x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, good ending promise

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 19.7k (holy sh*t)

Summary: “I’m no one special, just another wide eyed girl, who's desperately in love with you.”

Rooster is sure he's in love with this girl. Only problem is, he's never seen or face or know her name

No use of y/n

Based of off Superstar (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

Author's Note: It's me, Hi. This one shot is so freaking late y'all. In all honesty I started writing this August around the time I finished writing Naked, but life and school happened and now here we are. It felt amazing getting to stretch my writing skills again for anything other than research papers, and I'm on winter break so it seems as good a time as any. I'm not going to give anymore excuses, but I promise this is worth a read. This is the longest single piece of work I have ever written. It ended at 65 pages and almost 20k words in my drafts. Its so long that Tumblr won't let post the entire one shot in one post so im splitting it in two, but dw send part will be posted immediately after this is posted. I also didn't have anyone edit this, so I apologize for any grammatical errors (most likely tense consistency bcs i suck at those) I hope you all enjoy reading it as I did writing it and I hope it tide y'all over until I can write the next chapter of Let Me Go. Here is Superstar.

Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was an enigma to you. How could anyone's voice be so hoarse and yet so strong?

As an air traffic controller for the Navy, you’ve heard every type of voice imaginable. The gruff demanding ones from the Air Boss, the shrill screams of pilots having to eject due to a bird strike, the quiet dulcet tones of a shy WSO, and everything in between.

The first time you heard his voice through the comms, you weren’t exactly starstruck per se, just a bit thrown off.

“This is Dagger 2, asking for clearance for take off.”

It’s not like you didn’t know who the pilots flying this mission were. Everyone in the goddamn Navy knew who they were, they were the best of the best.

You even saw their pictures. And thought some of them were cute (especially the one rocking the Miami Vice Stache). But hearing their voices was different from reading their files.

Though most of the details of the mission were classified, you had a basic idea and knew that there was a good chance that someone wasn’t coming home.

“This is Dagger 2, asking for clearance for take off”

The voice repeated. You snapped out of your thoughts, the voice was smooth as honey and it had just a hint of fear but yet so heavily determined. Your heart really went out to the poor pilot.

“Dagger 2, you’re clear for take off.” You said, trying to convey as much sympathy as you could in those words.

The actual mission itself didn’t last longer than 3 minutes. Working for the navy, you should’ve been used to the high stakes situations that often go hand in hand with these kinds of assignments. But you couldn’t help but sit on the edge of your seat during the duration of the mission.

There were a few initial hiccups, you felt like you were watching a movie as you listened to the daggers communicate with one another. Their nervousness (and to be honest your own) upon seeing the SAMs and your both concern and irritation at Lieutenant Bradshaw’s cautiousness.

Yes, his by the book and precise flying is part of the reason why he was considered one of the best, but if he didn’t throw that shit out of the window and speed up he will end up getting himself killed. And even though you didn’t necessarily know him, this possibility filled your body with so much dread.

You felt relieved (well only slightly, they hadn’t made it out of the woods just yet) when Rooster finally got out of his own head and sped up. The two miracles were successfully pulled off and the 4 jets had made it past Coffin Corner. Now it was a dogfight all the way home.

You commended just how level headed and pragmatic the pilots were as they evaded the SAMs and attacks that were thrusted upon them. You knew if you were in the same situation you would’ve panicked and blown up by now. Your admiration was interrupted by the mayday call of Captain Mitchell.

A heavy tension set in the control room, everyone was shocked at what just transpired. It was interrupted by the voices of the other daggers. Notably Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Trace.

Phoenix had announced that she and Lieutenant Floyd were heading back to home base, along with Payback and Fanboy. However, you were yet to hear confirmation from Rooster, with the last thing he said went along the lines of going after Maverick.

You held your breath as you heard Admiral Simpson demanded his return. The control room was met with silence, and you knew exactly what he was going to do.

It was less than 5 minutes when it was confirmed that Lieutenant Bradshaw’s plane had been shot down after attacking an enemy plane. His beacon went dark.

Lieutenant Seresin requested clearance for take off but was rebuffed by the Air Boss. You had to take everything in you to not shed a tear.

A thick silence fell over the entire ship. The mission was technically a success but you wouldn’t be able to tell based on the solemn look on everyone’s faces.

Even after the remaining daggers returned on the ship, no one wanted to leave the control room. The entire ship was at a standstill.

That was until a beacon marked “Rooster” started beeping on the screen.

No it couldn’t be.

“Sir, Rooster has gone supersonic.” You told Admiral Simpson with a gulp, trying to contain your hope.

“An F-14 tomcat has been spotted sir.” Another ATC announced.

“Maverick.” You heard someone say, not sure who but you did not care at that point. What’s important is that they were alive!

But it was not time to celebrate just yet. Two bogies were spotted alongside the F-14 Tomcat. And everyone knew this meant a dogfight was about to commence.

The situation looked more and more grim. An ancient F-14 against Fifth Gens? It was unlikely for the two pilots to make it out unscathed yet alone alive.

But by some grace of God (or possibly Maverick’s unbeatable skill, probably both) they managed to take down two bogies.

Rooster managed to turn on the plane’s radio to contact the ship. You felt relief which was instantly thwarted by the news that there was still one Fifth Gen, directly in front of the plane.

You knew they needed help. You looked at Admiral Simpson desperately, hoping that he would allow the Reserve Dagger to go assist. But Cyclone seemed frozen and you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Dagger Reserve, are you ready for liftoff?” You spoke into the mic, the other people in the control room looked at you in shock.

“Finally!” The elated voice of Hangman came through the comms.

Admiral Simpson shot you a hard glare, if only looks could kill, you’d probably be as screwed as Maverick and Rooster. But you knew you had to do something.

“Yes this is Dagger Reserve asking clearance for takeoff.”

“Dagger Reserve, you are clear for takeoff. Bring our boys home.” You said with a small smile, if you get fired and discharged, possibly thrown into the ocean it’ll be worth it knowing what you did to save the aviators.

Hangman shot down the Fifth Gen with ease, earning him his second confirmed air combat kill. You knew that the other pilots would never hear the end of it. But all you cared about is he saved HIM.

Rooster’s laugh and banter with Hangman might’ve been the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard.

Seeing him on the tarmac reunited with the rest of his team had to be one of the highlights of your career with the Navy, if this was the last moment you had in the branch then you were perfectly content.

“What you did was reckless insubordination! If there was another fifth Gen out there, we would’ve lost 3 of our best pilots and 2 planes worth millions of dollars!” Admiral Simpson had chastised you.

“I have half a mind to dishonorably discharge you!” You 're ready to accept your punishment with grace. You were however surprised at his next words

“But your actions saved 2 of our men.” He added with a gulp.

“You are clear from punishment, but DO NOT make this a habit!”

“Yes sir.” You told him with a steady voice.

“Thank you sir.”

“You are dismissed, go join the rest of the fleet.” He told you.

You ran down to celebrate the returning pilots, but so was everyone else. You could only see a glimpse of Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw past the dozens of bodies approaching to greet them.

But even from where you were standing you could see the beaming smile and bright eyes of the mustached pilot. And from that exact moment you knew you were a goner.

———————————————————————-

Next time you heard his voice was a few weeks post mission. Apparently he accepted a post to teach at Top Gun.

You were decently shocked to learn that the team assembled for the mission decided to stay in Miramar. Especially since they basically got their pick of post anywhere in the world.

But you figured Lieutenant Bradshaw, or rather Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw (remembering his promotion), decided to stay because of his recent reconciliation with Captain Mitchell.

“This is Rooster asking for clearance for takeoff.” He said through the comms.

“You’re still here?” Shit. You did not mean to say that out loud.

You heard back a chuckle from the pilot.

“Yes, I decided to stick around Fightertown for a little while.”

“Sorry sir.” You replied grateful that he couldn’t see the blush that was forming on your cheeks.

“You are clear for takeoff.”

“Thanks sweetheart. Roger that.” You felt your cheeks grow hotter as he took off into the air.

“ATC you still there?” He asked you once he was at cruising altitude.

“Yes Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I am still here.” Hoping that he forgot your earlier words and needed something official.

“Any reason why you were shocked at my staying?” He asked you.

You gulped at his question. Was this allowed? You’ve never had a pilot ask you a question before that didn’t pertain to instructions, both on the ground and in the air.

After a breath you answered his question.

“I heard about your promotion, and the offer to be posted anywhere in the world. Just surprised you chose to stay here.”

“Sometimes a family is worth more than any accolade or prestigious post.” He told you. You could tell he really cared about Maverick, but was not sure about the history of that.

Would asking him be crossing a line?

“Why do you stay in fightertown?” He asks you.

“Not for anything as noble as your reason Lieutenant Commander, just an assigned post.”

“Well I hope you’re liking Miramar. Actually grew up here.” You were surprised that he was still speaking to you, considering he was in the sky for a reason, and normally pilots didn’t maintain this much conversation with Air Traffic Control.

“I really like it so far, having some trouble with making friends though.” You don’t know why you admitted this to him, especially through comms that other people are definitely listening in to. And especially to a Naval hero who definitely would have no interest in the life of a lowly ATC.

“Well, consider me your first friend sweetheart.” He responded and he actually sounded genuine. You couldn’t help but smile at the aviator's words.

You were about to respond when you were interrupted by Hangman through the comms.

“Usually I would encourage this, but you can flirt later, Rooster, we gotta shoot down Mav.”

Your little bubble had been burst as you remembered why you had to clear him for takeoff earlier.

“That’s my cue, talk to you later, friend.”

“Have a good exercise Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.” You respond with a smile you know he’d never see.

Your shift ended before they finished their exercise, so you didn’t get to give Rooster clearance to land (or maybe you just hoped to speak to him again). But from what you heard, it was the closest the team got to finally shooting down the infamous Captain.

You knew that one day they could surpass the pilot, but you were glad that they were able to learn and grow (and stay) a little longer at Top Gun.

In an effort to make more friends you agreed to go out with some of your fellow ATCs that night. Which is how you ended up in a bar on the beach called ‘the Hard Deck’.

Your co-workers were nice enough, and you were honestly glad that you weren’t spending another night with a plate of pad Thai watching yet another crappy Netflix rom-com.

Imagine your surprise when Rooster and his crew of pilots walked into the very same bar. They went straight to the pool tables and were currently arguing over who got to play first.

“God definitely has favorites, because they are so fine.” Your co-worker Laura sighs.

“I wanna climb Seresin like a tree.” She adds.

“I’m more of a Coyote and Payback kind of gal.” Your other co-worker Sara remarked.

“But I wouldn’t kick Fanboy or Bob out of bed, they look like they know some tricks.”

She said as she took another drink of her martini. You agreed with their judgements but couldn’t help but only have eyes for one of the pilots.

“Good choice.” Your other co-worker Lia tells you after following your gaze.

“Bradshaw definitely takes the cake.”

You blush upon being caught staring at Rooster.

All your co-workers nodded in agreement with Lia.

“He’s not as pretty as Hangman but he’s somehow more fuckable.” Laura comments.

You couldn’t help but feel possessive as the other women also stared at Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw with hungry eyes.

But it’s not like you had any right to that feeling, he wasn’t yours, he didn’t even know who you were.

The conversation moved on to other topics, it could’ve been anything from the weather or the latest Naval gossip but you were only half paying attention. You were honestly just glad that they were done ogling a certain pilot.

You really liked the Hard Deck. It was now clear that it was a Navy spot and it was really cool to see the usually serious people from work loosened up in civilian clothes.

The night was bustling and while you were glad for some company, you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. All these women knew each other and had all these little jokes with one another, and you were an outsider that had a bit of a neurotic streak.

You were wondering if this was a pity invite, and you were slowly leaning to a yes but you were already here, might as well make the best of it.

You prepared yourself to jump back into the conversation, when the music from the jukebox had abruptly stopped. And while the men booed, you saw that the women all stopped and stared at the piano. Or rather the person at the piano.

Lo and behold, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was seated at the decades old instrument, his fingers expertly playing an old Elton John hit. Of course he would have an affinity for the 80s, as shown by his mustache.

If you thought his speaking voice was beautiful, his singing voice was downright heavenly. He had this low tenor that was so strong and made “I’m still standing” sound sensual. How is that even possible?

Obviously you weren’t the only person that thought so, you saw women dancing in front of him, singing along and obviously trying to get his attention.

For the other women (and some men) that weren’t, were singing along and staring, were all bewitched at the pilot’s skill. And really, who could blame them?

He had this air of confidence that even the cockiest of pilots could never compete with, he was a superstar. In the air and the ground.

When he (sadly) finished his song, the entire bar cheered and chanted his name. He did a silly dance and seemed to have no care in the world.

You couldn’t help but fall for him a little more.

——-——————————————————————

“This is Rooster, in the air calling for Air Traffic Control.”

You just started your shift less than 2 minutes ago and did not know that Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was already in the air.

“This is Air Traffic Control, what do you need, Lieutenant Commander?” You ansered, trying to keep your voice calm, hoping your little crush on the aviator wouldn’t show in your voice.

“It’s you!” Rooster exclaimed.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir?”

“You’re the ATC from the other day? The one that agreed to be my friend.”

A blush crept onto your face, you were surprised he remembered your interaction.

“Um yes sir.”

“You got off the comm lines so quickly the other day. I didn’t get to invite you to hang out with me and meet some other new friends at the Hard Deck.”

Your heart grew warm. He was serious? He wasn’t just trying to be polite?

“I was at the Hard Deck sir. Saw you there with your squadron.”

“Oh shit, really? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Seemed rude to just insert myself, sir.”

“Plus you seemed preoccupied with your adoring fans.” You said with a giggle.

“It was an amazing performance.”

“Oh yeah? Are you a fan?” You heard him ask, already seeing his smirk in your mind.

“Oh yeah definitely! Consider me the president of the fan club sir.” You quipped.

“So what does the role of “president” entail?”

“You know, make t-shirts, teach the Rooster 101 class, and of course host the weekly meeting where we talk about how hot and talented Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is.”

“So you think I’m hot?”

Your face grew warm in response, and cursed yourself for accidentally flirting nonsensically. And prayed to whatever higher power that no one was currently listening to the comm line.

“Oh um-.” You began to respond.

“No! Sir-…um I just…”

“You know it’s frowned upon to lie to your superiors.” He said in a serious tone.

“Oh no I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to-“

“ATC….”He interrupts, with an inflection at the end of the last letter

“Yes I think you’re hot Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw” You confessed with a gulp.

He let out a hearty chuckle.

You were completely mortified and you don’t think your face has ever been this hot before. If you thought you didn’t have a chance before, more so now. You were debating whether you should disconnect now and go back to your job (I mean this is technically your job, but not the flirting part).

You were broken out of your inner debate by Rooster

“Thanks sweetheart.”

“You know you don’t have to keep calling me Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw right?”

“You can call me Rooster.”

You were thankful for the subject change.

“Okay Lieutenant Comma-“

“Sorry, okay….Rooster.”

“Now that’s better.” He said with a slight laugh, you could already see his dazzling smile now.

“How about you ATC? What should I call you?”

“Oh you can call me-“ you began to say.

“This is Lieutenant Finch asking for clearance for takeoff.” You were cut off by the comm.

You sighed, back to real life.

“I’m sorry Rooster, I got to go back to duty.”

You cut off the comm lines before he could respond.

————————————————————————

Next time you saw him, he was walking down a hallway with Lieutenant Commander Trace by his side. He was talking so animatedly, his hands waving around as he delivered his point.

It sounded like he was gushing about a tail spin maneuver that Maverick pulled off, and god he’s so beautiful. When he speaks it’s like you couldn’t help but listen. Hell! you bet a reading of the F-18 NATOPS would sound like absolute sin coming from his mouth.

You were so caught up in his voice that you didn’t notice how close you were to passing him.

You felt your breath get caught in your throat as your shoulders brushed against his as you walked in the opposite direction. Even through your thick khakis, you can feel how muscular his shoulders were. Damn this man works out.

“Oops sorry ma’am” he stopped and turned to you. His eyes were concerned that he hurt you from a measly bump. This man could not be real.

“I didn't mean to bump you. And as put together as I seem to be, I am actually a huge klutz and a hazard to pretty girls.” He said with a chuckle and a wink.

You tried to respond to him, but only a squeak managed to leave your mouth. Starstruck that he’s speaking to you for the first time, not through a comm line.

Wait and he called you pretty! You were now fighting a blush creeping on your cheeks. But to the two aviators it looked like you were not amused

“Stop bothering her Rooster, she obviously has places to be.” Phoenix chastises him.

“I apologize for my bothersome friend.” She turned to say to you. And all your pathetic shy ass can do is nod.

“See you around! And sorry again!” Rooster says once more as Lieutenant Trace pulls him away and down the hallway.

———————————-—————————————

Okay, you were not doing this on purpose, well sorta. Sometimes in the midst of your constant daydreaming, your subconscious kinda just takes the reins and dictates your actions.

Which is how you found yourself coincidentally choosing a work schedule that lined up the most perfectly with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s flying times.

You hoped for another conversation with Rooster, hoping to redeem yourself from your words (or rather lack thereof) during the hallway debacle.

But the Lieutenant Commander seemed very focused on the exercise that they’ve been working on for the past week and has not been speaking to you as much as of late.

You were of course sad, and you felt a pit in your stomach grow larger and larger each passing day that your conversations started and ended with “you’re cleared for takeoff”.

You almost wish that your stupid infatuation would go away so that you didn’t feel yourself crushed at the end of every single work day.

But you would catch a glimpse of his smile on the tarmac and your heart would fill with so much longing once again.

It had been almost a week since your last true interaction with the aviator, you were beyond pathetic at this point.

At last, he finally called in after he was in the sky.

“Is the president of my fan club there?” He called into the comms.

Was he talking about you? I mean who else would he be talking about considering the topic of your conversation last time.

Unless he talks to all the ATCs like this, flirting with them until they become flustered and red as a tomato. He’s probably done this with Sara, or Laura or even both! The thought filled your stomach with dread. Should you stay silent and pretend you didn’t hear him? Or maybe he actually needs something, it would be unprofessional of you to not help your superior or maybe-

“I know you’re there, I can hear you thinking”

Rooster has a habit of breaking you out of your anxiety induced thoughts.

“Are you calling for me Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

You heard him clear his throat, expectant.

“Oh I’m sorry, Rooster.” You corrected yourself.

“That’s better” He said with a chuckle.

��Sorry I’ve been radio silent the past week sweetheart, have had a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me! You’re one of the greatest pilots in the world, no need to worry about me.” You assured him, and maybe you were a bit self-deprecating but it was true.

“No need for all of that ATC, I’m just a guy in a plane. And were friends, remember? It’s not fair of me to leave you in the dark.”

Damn. AND he's humble? How can this man be anymore perfect?

“ Thank you Rooster.” You replied with a small smile.

“Sorry again for going ghost, this is a bit of a hard week for me” He continued.

In any normal circumstance, asking for elaboration would seem like prying, but your conversations with the Lieutenant commander have been less than normal as of late. You still had no clue where you got the courage to ask.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Wanna know all my secrets already sweetheart?”

He somehow managed to avoid the question AND make you flustered. He’s good.

“How about I let you know my stories over dinner?”

You just felt your heart jump out of your chest and into another dimension. There’s no way THE Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was asking you out.

This had to be some kind of game, one that he’s no doubt played a million times before. Rooster had no shortage of women who wanted him and the fact that he’s asking you out of all people was unbelievable. There was no way.

“Um like a date?” You ask him nervously.

He chuckles at your response, amused at your edginess. But to you it sounded like the thunderclap before the lightning strike of rejection.

You just wished he’d get on with it. Hoping he lets you down easy so you can move on from this crush and actually do your job.

“What else would I mean?” He finally responded.

Your entire body felt like a cracked glow stick. You felt bright and overheated, but also cold as ice as you’ve somehow lost feeling in your extremities.

So he was asking you out! You were determined to apologize for every time you’ve said God’s name in vain because if Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw was asking you on a date, then there is no doubt that the higher power was real.

But the reality of the situation had set in. If he was this quick to ask you out despite not knowing your name, or what you look like. What’s stopping him from changing his mind and moving on to the next ATC or bartender or crossing guard who gave him admiring attention just as quickly?

You came to a swift realization.

It was against your nature and your better judgment, as your heart was beating out the seams to say yes to Rooster’s invitation. But you had to be smart about this.

You had to play the game.

“I’m gonna have to say no sir.”

You can feel the regret setting in already.

“Wow, I think that’s the first no I’ve gotten in…. That might be the first no I’ve ever gotten.”

Great, now you’ve bruised his ego, you had no idea if this tactic was working for or against you.

“Well, I think dinner might be a little further down the line, that’s if you think you can handle it?” You somehow gathered enough courage to (fake) confidently challenge Rooster.

“Oh is that so?” You can hear the intrigue in his voice through the line.

“How about a phone number?” He offers amused

“Hmm… maybe THAT I can agree with.” You responded matching his playful tone.

“In one condition.”

“Oh yeah? And what is that sweetheart?”

“Shoot down Maverick in the drill today.”

“Is that it? I can do that, easy.” There was the cockiness the top gun pilots were famous for.

“That’s funny, considering you haven’t been able to do it in the past 3 weeks.” You jested.

“Ouch, first you reject my invitation, and now you insult my skill? Way to kick a man while he’s already down sweetheart.” He grimaced playfully.

“Gotta give you some kind of challenge sir.” You couldn't hold back the giggle forming in your throat.

“Okay deal, anything to hear that laugh again, outside of these comm lines.” He chuckled.

Oh shit. You completely forgot that you are flirting with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw though a military operated and very public comm line.

“I was wondering when the two of were going to remember the rest of us can hear EVERYTHING.” You heard the voice of Lieutenant Commander Seresin chortle.

You felt your ears burn red in embarrassment.

“Getting rejected over comms Bradley? And here I thought you had game.” Captain Mitchell added. Both of them were laughing at their fellow aviator.

“See what I mean sweetheart? I promise I’m a much better conversationalist when these assholes aren’t around.” Bradley insulted the other two pilots.

“Don’t listen to him ATC, I’ve known him since he was still in diapers , and I promise you, this is as good as he’s gonna get.” Captain Mitchell remarked to you.

“Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on him for you either.” He added jokingly.

“Trust me Captain Mitchell, I’m counting on it.” You replied with equal fervor. Maverick responded with a playful tone.

“Sounds good ma’am, hope I don’t disappoint .”

“I’m going to get into position, You two can join me once Bradley is done with his disastrous flirting.” He added before going radio silent, lifting his jet to prepare for the dogfight.

“Hypothetically, if I shoot down Mav, do I get your number?” Hangman teased.

“Walk the walk first, and maybe I’ll consider it.” You quipped, but you knew that the only aviator you’d want to give your number to was Rooster.

“Good enough for me.” Hangman replied.

“Watch me beat you Rooster, in the drill and with the girl.” Hangman chuckled playfully before going radio silent, presumably getting into position.

“Double timing me with Hangman sweetheart? Now thats a killing blow.” Rooster smiled, slightly annoyed at your flirtatious exchange with Seresin but happy that it was just the two of you once again.

“You know how bumptious Lieutenant Commander Seresin can be. I just said it to get rid of him.” You explained.

“Now for you, I am completely serious. Shoot down Mav and you got yourself a phone number.”

“Yours right?” He asked.

You let out a hearty laugh, one that had caused the other ATC’s currently in the control tower to look at you with concerned expressions.

“Yes. Mine.”

“You never know, you could very well give me Admiral Bates’ number. I just wanted to make sure.” He replied.

“Plus its always a bonus to hear you laugh.”

This man never seemed to run out of lines. You had to hold yourself back from melting into a puddle in your seat.

“Well lets see what you got then Lieutenant Commander.” Was the last thing you said as he finally went back up to position.

As much as you wanted to stay tuned into the dogfight like you were a suburban dad cheering on their favorite football team, you did actually have a job to do.

You were in the middle of analyzing flight patterns and putting together a presentation for your co-workers when you heard the sudden call on your headset.

“Hello, this is air traffic control.”

You were greeted with a loud thunderous cheer.

“I did it ATC! I shot down Mav.” Rooster howled.

“Is this true Lieutenant Commander Seresin?” You asked Hangman.

“As much as I tried to sabotage him, yes Rooster did somehow managed to shoot down the old-timer.” Hangman confirmed with a groan.

Shit. Now you have to actually give your number to Rooster.

“Soooo ATC, I’m waiting for the magic numbers.” You could already see the victory smirk on his face.

“Ughhh fine a deal is a deal. But I am not going to give out my private phone number on a monitored line. I’m just gonna have to get it to you another way.”

“Okay fair enough. How are you gonna do that?” Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw queried.

“Don’t worry about it, just know you’ll get it.”

“Or you know you can just give it to me face to fa-.”

“Goodbye Rooster.” You interrupted and dropped the line before he could continue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You honestly did not know how you were going to get your number to Rooster. You wouldn’t dare to see him face to face. He’ll take one look at you and know that you were nothing special and he’d lose interest. The only reason he was this enthralled was because you were a mystery to him.

You could always go back on your deal and tell him you were kidding about the number, but you knew that was an asshole move and you were not the type to break agreements. You had to figure out how to get that number to him without him seeing you.

At least then you can speak to him and possibly flirt with him for a little longer before he inevitably loses interest..

You were sat in the comm tower, your head resting on the back of your hand, watching Rooster joke around with Mav and Hangman down in the tarmac beside their F-18s. Even from all the way up here you can see how bright his smile was. He was so beautiful.

You were snapped out of your admiration by the three aviators walking off the tarmac, probably to rest and sit with the other pilots in the hangar. You saw your window of opportunity, in the form of (no pun intended) Rooster’s open canopy on his jet.

If you could sneak down there and place a piece of paper with your number on his dash then you would have fulfilled your side of the deal.

If anyone were to ask, you were not a stalker, you were just very observant, especially if you’ve been watching these pilots for the better part of the last few weeks and knew that they were going to spend at least the next 15 minutes in the hangar until they returned to the tarmac. You had to make your move NOW.

You scribbled your number onto a piece of discarded paper.

“I’m taking a 10!” You announced to the control room before running out clutching the note to your chest.

You quickly ran down from the tower and quickly onto the tarmac, making sure to duck and turn your head away as you passed the hangar (just in case).

You couldn’t remember the last time you ran this fast, probably not since basic training. You quickly manuevered around all the F-18s until you reached the one marked with the label LCDR Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”. You’ve never seen his jet this up close, you wanted desperately to run your hand through the marking of his name, to touch something that he has.

No. You have to remember you’re here on a time-constrained mission, and you had to get out of here not only before the pilots come out, but also before anyone in the comm tower can spot you down here.

You quickly flung yourself up the ladder up to cockpit of the jet and trying to place the piece of paper as rapidly and as gently as you could on the dash. When you finally let go of the paper and saw that it was securely in place, you hopped off the tiny ass ladder and started to speed walk back to the direction of the comm tower.

Your heart was beating a million times per minute and you did it without anyone seeing you. You could see the door to the tower in the distance, and were beelining towards it. That’s until you heard a clear

“HEY!” Coming from behind you.

You turned around and were greeted by the suspect face of Lieutenant Commander Seresin. He was standing probably a good 25 feet away and slowly walking towards you.

“Who are you? What are doing down here?”

You had to think of an excuse fast, with as little words spoken as possible. You couldn’t risk him recognizing your voice and telling Rooster. Then all of this would be over too soon.

“Just routine inspection!” You tell him, making your voice higher and hopefully indiscernible from your normal speaking voice.

“Goodbye!” You waved at him before sprinting away and around the tower so he couldn’t see that you were going into the comm room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As much as you'd like to think that you successfully made it down and back from the tarmac completely undetected, you knew that running into Hangman could’ve ended disastrously. You needed to learn to be more careful especially now that your number could possibly already be in Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s possession. Which means you have to commit to this game.

You put your number in his plane almost 11 hours ago and even though the work day has long ended, and you knew that the pilots leave together at around 5pm and would inevitably end up at the Hard Deck for a few hours.

However it is now nearing 11pm and you still had no notification from anyone other than your mom. No texts, no calls, just email alerts and a few instagram DMs from some old high school friends.

You sighed as you stared at the clock. Maybe he didn’t see the paper? Or he’s still at the Hard Deck?

You knew neither was unlikely because the dagger squad flew out and ran a few more drills later in the day so was in his jet and all the Navy men (or rather the disciplined ones) promptly left the bar at 10pm to prepare for their early work days.

He could’ve and should’ve contacted you by now.

But what did you really expect? That he was going to drop everything and call a random ATC that he had a few indecorous conversations with.

You definitely let this fake confidence build up too much in your head. You had to remember your place. Because who are you other than just a girl, when he was one of the superstar’s of the Navy? The frontliner and the apple of all the admirals’ eyes.

You see the clock flashing 11:15pm and you had a shift early in the morning. There was no use continuing to feel sorry for yourself. Some sleep would do you some good, and hopefully avoid the waterworks that would inevitably come.

You were well on your way to slipping into a deep slumber when you heard the loud text tone originating from your phone.

Unknown Number: Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today sweetheart. I hope I get the chance soon. Sweet dreams :)

——————-————————————————————————

There must have been some sickness barreling through the base because the normally filled comm room was empty except for you manning the main desk.

Being solo wasn’t too bad, as there weren’t too many pilots scheduled to fly today.

Of course one of them being Rooster.

“Miramar Tower, F/A-18E Super Hornet , 10 southwest at 2,500, inbound for landing “

Speak of the devil, and he shall come

“F/A-18E Super Hornet , Miramar Tower, report entering left downwind Runway 24R.” You responded, keeping yourself professional despite feeling the butterflies in your stomach beating your ass upon hearing his voice.

“Report entering left downwind, F/A-18E Super Hornet . . . . “ He responded before adding

“F/A-18E Super Hornet entering left downwind Runway 24R.”

He was all business today, with absolutely no hint of the usual playfulness in his voice.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, you are cleared to land Runway 24R.”

He let out a slight growl, one you would miss if you weren’t listening so intently.

He hesitated for a moment before finally responding.

“Cleared to land Runway 24R, F/A-18E Super Hornet “

You saw his jet successfully land and reached for the button to disconnect when you heard Rooster’s voice flood your headphones once again.

“Do you remember what I said about calling me ‘Lieutenant Commander’ sweetheart?” He asks steely.

Fuck, he sounds so sexy when he’s stern. No man’s voice has ever had this effect on you.

“Yes sir, Rooster.” You said with a longing breath.

You curse yourself for being incapable of being subtle.

“Normally I would say no ‘sir’ just ‘Rooster’, but I’ll allow it. Only because it sounds so good coming from your mouth.”

Holy shit. And you thought you weren’t subtle, you were usually clueless when it came to men flirting but even you could read that loud and clear.

“You sure you want to be hitting on me over comms SIR?” you said purring

“Would you rather me come up there sweetheart? So I can do it face-to-face” He said with the same gruffness. You can see him glancing up to the tower as he lifted his canopy and exited his plane.

“I dare you Lieutenant Commander.” You replied matching his salacious tone.

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson don’t I?.” The connection cuts off as he removes his helmet and rushes up to the tower.

You couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your pounding heartbeat, there is no way you just invited Rooster up to the comm room.

It couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes when you heard the door burst open and saw Rooster enter, his skin still glistening from sweating under the California sun.

He looked like a Greek god, and you had to stop your jaw from physically dropping at the sight of him.

“Finally done hiding from me sweetheart?” He greeted you teasingly.

You slowly approached one another. You opened your mouth to respond with a flirty response but the words seemed to be stuck in your throat.

You didn’t even notice how close you were to him. You could feel the heat radiating off his body. You were staring straight ahead and avoiding his gaze. Choosing to maintain eye contact with the lowered zipper of his flight suit. Giving you a glimpse of the hard planes of his chest underneath.

Your breath hitched as you felt him grab you by the waist and pull you bodies together. His hands felt so hot on your body and you still couldn’t bring yourself to look up into his gaze.

That is until he placed a hand on your chin and gently pulled it up to look into your eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re all shy now sweetheart?” He said with a smirk and he tugged your bodies closer.

“Where’s all that talk from earlier?” He whispered as he kissed the skin beneath your ear, before moving his lips to your jaw and leaving soft caressing kisses trailing down your jaw, down to where your neck meets your collarbone

Okay, you have definitely lost the ability to breathe, let alone to speak several moments ago. If he wasn’t currently holding you so tightly your legs would’ve given out from under you.

All you could feel was him and all your mind can think of is Rooster. Rooster. Rooster.

He finally brought his head back up and stared at your lips. He licked his before he finally closed the distance between you and-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

You woke up in your bed in a cold sweat.

Holy shit, it was just a dream. It felt so real.

You could’ve sworn you could still feel his hand gripping on your waist and his hot breath on your ear.

You glanced at your alarm clock to see that you overslept by 30 minutes!

You quickly got up and got ready, you swear to God you had never gotten ready faster in your life. But you still managed to be 15 minutes late.

Your supervisor was not happy. But you were normally punctual so they allowed you this one oversight. As long as you swore to never repeat it again.

You finally caught your breath and settled in your station. You were relieved that you didn’t miss too much.

But since you were late Rooster was assigned to a different ATC on his flight plan for the day.

This did make you sad but in a way maybe it was necessary for today.

First because you could not possibly hold a conversation with him after the erotic dream that you still hadn't physically recovered from, and second because you were actually becoming pathetic.

You had set 4 simple rules for yourself when you joined the Navy

Stay Focused

Always be punctual

Sleep early to be well rested, and most importantly

Do not get involved with Navy men.

You somehow managed to break all rules in the last few weeks.

You had a wet dream that caused you to break your perfect punctuality streak. A dream that was about a certain pilot that caused you to stay up late and has spent the better part of a month distracting you.

For the lack of better phrasing, you really needed to get your shit together.

But when you stepped into the mess hall after a fairly productive half of a day, and saw his face, you remembered just why you were so enamored.

A smile from him was worth breaking the rules you set for yourself.

——————————————————————————————-

You were probably home for less than 10 minutes when you heard the text notification coming from the living room.

You wiped your hands on a dish rag and walked out of the kitchen to grab your phone, which you almost dropped upon seeing who the text came from.

The text last night was completely unexpected and was definitely part of the reason why Rooster somehow made it into your dream. And even though you were half asleep at the time, you managed to save his number under “Rooster ✈️🐔”.

Which is how you knew you were staring at a text from said aviator.

Rooster ✈️🐔: Missed you today :(

You have been carefully analyzing the text for the last 30 seconds you laid eyes on it. He missed you??? What does that mean? He had your number for the better part of two days and he only managed to contact you when you were almost asleep, and after a day of ignoring him.

Asking him what he meant would be too obvious and would make you come out as naïve. So you did what any rational woman with a crush would do. Deflect.

You: Do you have a problem with emojis or something?

Rooster ✈️🐔: Huh? What do you mean?

You: I can’t remember the last time I saw someone use emoticons unironically.

Rooster ✈️🐔: Are you making fun of me? I personally think emoticons are neat

Rooster ✈️🐔: And I don’t know how to download emojis :/

You felt like a schoolgirl as you felt your face break into a grin at his antics.

You were formulating a reply when you were interrupted by the screen indicating an incoming call from Rooster ✈️🐔.

You stared at your phone in panic and let it continue to ring. Holy shit he was calling you. At least in text you can formulate a plan and have a carefully crafted response. You did not have that luxury with a voice call.

But what are you going to do? Ignore it?

You had to make a decision fast. Okay yes, it will be a little more nerve wracking to speak on a voice call but that's better than nothing right? And you spoke to him all the time over comms, even though technically it is different because those conversations can be hidden under the guise of carrying out your job and you did not have that safety net in this situation.

After a few seconds you thought “Fuck it” and pressed the green button.

“Hi” You answered with a breath.

“Oh thank god, you actually answered” He responded, teasing relief in his voice.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t?” You asked him as if it was the most outlandish thing in the world (even you were seriously debating it less than a minute ago).

“Well lets look at the track record, you rejected my dinner invite, doubted my skill as a world class pilot, left me on read last night, and just made fun of my emoticons.”

“The signs were all pointing there.”

You bursted out in laughter at his rantings.

“Wow! And now you’re laughing at my misery, a man just can’t win with you can they sweetheart?” He feigned hurt.

“I’m sorry Lieutenant Commander, I didn’t realize it was so easy to hurt your feelings.” You teased him.

“AND were back to Lieutenant Commander? You do not pull your punches, do you?”

“I’d like to think we’re past all those formalities, outside of work please call me Rooster, or rather yet, call me Bradley.” He asserted.

“Sometimes I forget your full god given name is Bradley Bradshaw. Brad Brad. I’m making that your name on my phone” You continued to tease with a giggle.

“Did your parents know what they were subjecting you to?”

“Ha Ha very funny, unfortunately they were the main ones who made the Brad Brad joke.” He admitted dejected.

This caused you to laugh again.

“Hey this is not fair! I don’t even know your name to make fun of.” You could practically hear the pout in his voice.

“You know I’m gonna find out your name eventually sweetheart, so why don’t you just give it up now?”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

You wanted to finally tell him your name, you did. But that just opens a can of worms that would lead to reality, which you were not yet ready to face.

“I can’t call you ATC forever sweetheart..”

“Well.. what do you want to call me?”

“Preferably your name?” He suggested.

“You only get one chance to choose so try again.” You warned.

“And make it good”

“Okay fine I’ll bite.” He finally gave in.

“Lets see, what to call you….”

“Well you laugh a lot, and most of the time at me, so I think I want to use something related to that.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to make fun of.” You quipped.

“Fair enough. Just know I only let you because I actually like the sound of your laugh.”

You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks again.

“Clock is ticking, and you’re wasting your time flirting. What is it gonna be?” You goaded him.

“Okay Okay, but don’t think I won’t continue later.”

“I have no doubt about it”

“So something pertaining laughing…hmmm. Giggles?”

“If you call me Giggles, I’m hanging up and blocking you.” You threaten him.

He responded with his own laugh, and god if you didn’t love his as much as he claimed to like yours.

“Chuckles?”

“I prefered Giggles.” You grimaced

“Merry?”

“Too Christmas-y”

“Chirpy?”

“That sounds like a name for a bird or something you’d call your grandma. How are you so bad at this?”

“I’m trying!”

“Try to pick something better than all of those please, and do it in the next 30 seconds or I revoke your naming permissions.”

“Fine…Okay! I got it!”

“Cloud!”

“Cloud?” You asked

“Yes! Like flying on Cloud 9!”

His selection brought a smile to your face. You pretended to think on it.

“It’s acceptable.”

“Yes!”

“See? I’m not completely useless, and it fits because I’m flying on Cloud 9 whenever I know you’re my ATC.”

His admission caused your breath to catch in your throat. He really did know how to make a girl feel special, even though you knew you had no actual chance with him in the real world.

“I bet you say that to all the ATCs.”

“Well they are responsible for making sure that I don’t crash into other planes on the runway. Gotta keep them happy somehow”

You laugh at his joke, but holding some sadness because even though he was joking, in a way it felt like it held some truth.

“But seriously, you have no idea how much joy you brought me yesterday. Both with our conversation and seeing that you actually gave me your number. Which is why I was really sad that you weren’t my ATC today.”

He sounded sincere, but you tried to keep yourself from taking his lines to heart.

You smiled.

“Speaking of your number, how the hell did you get that piece of paper into my dash?”

“There was no one else I saw near my jet except my squad and they were with me the entire time. When did you manage to do it?”

“A girl doesn’t reveal her secrets Rooster.” You jested

“Speaking of secrets, pray tell why it took you over twelve hours to use it?” You asked him, you had to know.

“Yeah, sorry about that late text sweetheart… I stayed out at the Hard Deck with Mav a little later than usual. It was my dad’s death anniversary and I honestly spent most of the day sulking and dreading leaving my apartment.”

“Oh.. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You responded sympathetically, now feeling guilty at asking such an intrusive question.

“No worries sweetheart, the minute I heard your voice on comms, it brightened my day, even more so when you gave me your number.”

“So thank you for the boost and the motivation to finally kick Mav’s ass in the sky.”

Your heart felt warm hearing that you had that effect on him, you woul’ve believed his words if you didn’t know better.

“You’re welcome Bradley.” You finally called him by his real first name, admittedly it felt right coming from your mouth.

You both sat in comfortable silence when you were interrupted by the smoke alarm in your kitchen. It hit you that your dinner was left on the stove forgetten during your conversation with Bradley.

“Oh shit, I’m pretty sure I just burnt my dinner. I gotta go before I set my entire apartment on fire.”

Bradley chuckled at your unintentional lapse of memory.

“Okay sweetheart I’ll talk to you soon.”

You ended the call.

You managed to clear out the smoke out of your apartment, but unfortunately did not save your chicken.

You had to settle for a frozen hot pocket that had been in your freezer for God know how long, but hey it did the job and beggars can’t be choosers.

You felt the tiredness from the busy workday hit you and you decided it was a good idea to turn in early. You showered and finished your nighttime routine and settled into your bed with your phone on your nightstand.

Your phone flashed once again to signal a text. Apparently, Rooster had the same idea about an early night.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Goodnight Cloud <3 I’ll talk to you tomorrow

You: Goodnight Bradley :)

——————————————————————————————-

You were honestly pleasantly surprised at how consistently you and Bradley communicated.

It followed the same schedule. During the days, you were usually his ATC so he would of course flirt with you over comms, and you’d try to maintain come decorum of professionalism, but would eventually flirt black. Persistence is key and Bradley is nothing if not persistent.

When he wasn’t in the air during work hours he would sneakily text you his little random thoughts he had during the day.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Have you ever noticed how small Hangman’s mouth is?

You: What?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: No seriously look at it. His mouth is always scrunched up even when he smiles.

You: Why are you staring at Hangman’s mouth?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: We’ve been stuck in this meeting and he keeps chewing that stupid toothpick, its distracting.

You: Didn’t realize you had a thing for Seresin, Brad Brad? 🤔

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: ???????

You: You just said his mouth is distracting

You: Its okay Rooster, just say you wanna kiss him, the tension between you is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: I don’t want to kiss Hangman >:(

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: You wanna know who I do wanna kiss though?

You: Let me guess…..

You: Bob!

You: Or better yet, Cyclone 🤪

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: No :(((

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: I wanna kiss you

You: Let’s Play 8 Ball!

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Ha ha you’re hilarious

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: If I beat you then can I get a kiss?

Read 2:13pm

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Ouch :(

On weekday nights where he didn’t go to the Hard Deck, you would have your nightly phone call at 7:30pm sharp where you would both stay on the phone while you both cooked dinner. You would catch up on the little things during the day that you didn’t text about and just mostly got to know one another.

You can admit that yes, what initially drew you to Rooster was his beautiful smile and his skill as a pilot. But the more you spoke to him the more you saw not just Lieutenant Commander “Rooster” Bradshaw. But you also saw Bradley.

You quickly saw that he was kind, humble, and so caring of others.

“Hey Cloud, I’m sorry for calling you so late.” You noticed his tone was more solemn than usual and checked the time, it was nearing 8pm.

“It’s fine Bradley, you’re not that late.”

“What’s wrong?” You asked him.

“Payback and Fanboy flew into a jetwash today….”

“They had to eject.” He answered dejectedly

“I heard about that. Are they okay?”

Laura told you about the incident a little earlier, she was the ATC for the flight. The ear-splitting static that hit her headset after the aircraft collided with the ground was enough to shake even the most experienced ATC. So you couldn’t imagine being the pilot and the WSO in that situation.

“They’re at the hospital overnight for observation. I stuck around to make sure they were okay.”

It was very strange for you to hear Rooster so despondent. You knew he cared about his friends, and he would do anything for them, but it felt like there was more to the situation.

“You’re very thoughtful for that Bradley.. I’m sure they appreciated it”

“It was my fault, Cloud.” he confessed.

You were taken aback at his admittance, but you would’ve heard if there was someone that was directly responsible for the accident, it involved aircraft worth millions of dollars after all.

“They flew into my jetwash.”

“Bradley, that wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have controlled their flight path.” You tried to reassure him.

“But I shouldn’t have been so reckless!” He exclaimed.

“If I wasn’t so busy trying to outdo Coyote, I wouldn’t have almost hit a bird strike and had to slow down, and they wouldn't have gotten caught in the wash.”

You didn’t want to tell him he was being irrational for blaming himself for a situation that was clearly out of his hands, you knew there was something more there.

“But they’re fine right? Everyone is okay. No one was seriously hurt.” You explained to him.

“Yeah no one got hurt….THIS time.”

His statement piqued your interest, you were getting somewhere.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, finally letting go of the pretenses.

“That’s how my dad died.” He confessed.

In a way you knew about LTJG Nick Bradshaw and his untimely death during his Top Gun training, but none of the sordid details. It felt disrespectful to dig into Rooster’s family without him knowing.

“Oh..” You couldn’t think of what to say.

“He and Mav flew into a jetwash and when they ejected…my dad hit his head on the canopy. Dead on impact.”

You kicked yourself for thinking he was being irrational. Now all his self blame and his aversion to throwing caution to the wind while flying finally made sense. It also made his relationship with Maverick a lot clearer to you.

On one hand, you were thrilled that he was confiding in you. But on the other hand you were also heartbroken for Bradley, he lost his dad so young and as much as you wanted to hug him, and let him cry on your shoulder, you couldn’t.

“Were you close?” You settled on asking him.

“We were, he’s the reason why I worked so hard to be where I am now.” He reminisced.

“I’m sure he is very proud of you Bradley. You are not only an incredible pilot, you are also an selfless, caring, and incredible man.” You reminded him.

“He would give all the credit to my mom.” He lightly chuckled.

“She raised me alone after my dad died.”

“She never remarried?” You asked

“No, she said that dad was her soulmate. She would never find another man like him.”

You can tell how much love Bradley had for his parents, and the love they shared for one another.

“It sounds like they were really in love.” You smiled

“They were. My dad would always serenade my mom. He loved the 50s and the 60s so everytime he saw a piano he would wail out ‘Great Balls of Fire’ while my mom would act embarrassed, but she would eventually sit on his lap and sing along.”

“That’s beautiful Brad, they really were soulmates.”

“I hope I can find a love like theirs someday.” You sighed dreamily.

“Who knows? Maybe you already have.” He responds softly.

A comfortable silence settled between you for a few moments.

“Hey Cloud”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime Bradley.”

You noticed that it was now getting late and exhaustion was starting to take over your body.

Bradley seemed to notice this as well.

“Do you think I can sing to you Cloud? Like my dad used to with my mom?”

“I would love that Brad.”

You slowly fell asleep to the sound of his voice singing ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’.

And like that, there was no denying, that you’re falling even deeper.

——————————————————————————————-

You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up. It has been months since you and Rooster started talking regularly and you couldn’t help falling in love with him a little more everyday.

The problem is, you knew that his patience was wearing thin, as he was asking you more and more frequently when he can see you face to face or even know your real name.

You knew you owe him all of that, but how could you tell him? When you know in your heart that once he sees you and knows you. He would know you weren’t worth his time.

That realization kills you because he means everything to you. You’ve shared your hobbies, your stories, your dreams with him.

How can you go on living without him in your life once you know the feeling of him being there.

He has planted himself a permanent spot in your heart, and once he’s gone, there will be a gaping hole left in his wake.

He was being as kind and as patient with you as he could, but you couldn’t blame his growing anxiety about your identity.

It also didn’t help that you were constantly under the scrutinous eyes of Lieutenant Commander Seresin. After he caught you on the Tarmac, he seemed very suspicious of you. Like he knew you were up to something but just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Luckily you’ve been able to fly under the radar around him. Yes he could be a little ignorant and too much of a flirt for his own good but he was smart as a whip and you knew that if anyone could figure out what you were doing it would be him.

You were currently sat with ATCs in the mess hall, on the other side of the room from where the dagger squad has decided to congregate. You were trying to subtly sneak glances at Bradley.

He looked particularly handsome today, his sandy hair was slicked back and his tanned skin glowing. He even had his signature Ray Ban Caravans on. You normally hate when people wear sunglasses indoors but he made it work without looking like an asshole. And it looks damn good on him.

You sighed and as you moved your focus away to not arouse suspicion you noticed Hangman look at you with narrowed eyes. You pretended not to notice.

Your attention was diverted by the vibration of you phone signaling a notification.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Is potato salad supposed to be green?

You smiled when you saw it was a text from Bradley

You: Depends, do you normally eat 2 week old potato salad?

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Mav said it was okay :(

You: Mav also thinks anything not cooked in a microwave is gourmet.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Okay fair, its going into the trash.

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: You know what is gourmet though? ;)

You: Mav

Brad Brad ✈️🐔: Not funny :(

You tried to hold in your laughter to no avail and it was loud enough for the other ATC s to look at you in confusion.

“Sorry, just saw a funny meme.” You explained, the ATCs accepted this explanation and went back to their previous activities.

You looked up again to catch another glimpse at Rooster when you saw Hangman staring at your phone in your hand with wide eyes. Then looked down at Rooster also smiling down at his own phone, and then back at you.

You could see the wheels in his head turning, and then he made a face that made it clear that he connected the dots.

Oh shit. You had to get out of here.

You quickly packed up your food and sat up, not bothering to say goodbye to your fellow ATCs.

You ran out the mess hall and down the hallway but before you could turn the corner a hand pulls you back.

You are now face to face with Lieutenant Commander Seresin. He looked at you for a few seconds

“You’re Air Traffic Control right?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes sir I am.” You said trying to disguise your voice the same as you did on the tarmac.

“Don’t play games with me honey, I know that’s not your real voice.” You gulped

He still had a grip on your arm so you couldn’t run even if you wanted to. Curse these Navy men and their workout routines.

“Tell me your name, and that’s an order.”

You were sweating under his gaze, you’ve never felt more panicked in your life.

You tell him your name in your real voice.

He finally released his grip on you and also seemed to drop his serious demeanor.

“I knew there was something about you! You’re the ATC that old chicken has been flirting with over comms aren’t you??”

You nod looking down at your feet. Damn it, there goes your whole relationship (if you can even call it that) with Rooster, because Hangman is definitely going to rat you out.

“You see, Rooster was telling the squad that he was in love. And so of course we ask him who she is.”

“But how surprising was it when he said that not only has he never seen her face to face, he doesn’t even know her name.”

He was now pacing up and down the hallway.

“Then I remembered that day where he bet you your number if he shot down Mav, he magically got a piece of paper with a number on his dash seemingly coming from nowhere.”

“But it wasn’t a magic trick at all, was it?” He asked you rhetorically.

“No sir.”

“Exactly! Because I caught you sneaking off the Tarmac moments before Rooster jumped into his plane and happily announcing that he got your phone number.”

“I saw your face, so you are both the ATC over comms and the girl he talks to, the one he says he’s in love with.”

You looked up shocked at his statement.

“He’s in love with me?”

You looked up from the ground with hopeful eyes.

“Yes he is.” Hangman tells you matter of factly.

“You’ve presumably been talking to Rooster for months, but you've yet to meet him in person, let alone even tell him your name.”

“What game are you playing here?” He asks you

“It’s not a game, I do care about Bradley.” You sighed.

“So then what is it?”

“Sir, can we not please talk about it here?”

You anxiously look around and see that people were now in the hallway exiting from the mess hall. And god forbid that Bradley was one of them.

“Fine.”

“Meet me at the Hard Deck after work.”

——————————————————————————————-

You were seated at the bar in the Hard Deck, your left leg bouncing anxiously.

You checked your watch, 5:47pm. Hangman said to meet him here right after work and you basically sped off the base to get to the bar on time.

You’ve been nursing the same beer for the past almost 30 minutes. You couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

What was taking him so long? Did he forget? Did he already tell Bradley?

A million more questions swirled in your head. But you knew that if Hangman didn’t show up you were basically screwed.

Your self pity was interrupted by the booming sound of naval aviators strolling through the entrance, with one of them being Bradley and of course Hangman.

You were simultaneously trying to avoid Rooster’s gaze, while trying to catch Hangman’s attention.

When you finally caught his eye, you gave him a panicked questioning look. He gave you a subtle nod while continuing his conversation with the rest of the squadron.

The crew made their way to their usual spot in the back with the pool tables. Hangman excused himself from the group nodding towards you.

You kept your eyes on him as he made his way to you.

“Jimmy, can I get a beer?” Hangman asks the bartender.

“Lieutenant Commander.” You greeted him as he sat on the stool directly beside you.

He returned the greeting by saying your name.

“So let’s just get this out of the way. Did you tell Bradley?” You asked him, feeling a large brick settle in your stomach.

“You can relax.. I didn’t tell Bradshaw.” He replies

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief flooding your body.

“But don’t think that you’re off the hook, you have some explaining to do.” Hangman added.

“What do you want to know sir?” You swallowed nervously.

“First of all, who are you exactly?”

“I’m no one, I’m just an ATC.” You told him, looking down at your hands.

“Well you’re clearly not ‘no one’ if you’ve caught Rooster’s attention.” He rebutted.

“You’re little avoidance tricks might work on Rooster, but they won’t work on me.”

“And I know all your excuses for not meeting him are complete bs.”

“So why are you hiding from him?”

Now that’s the million dollar question isn’t it? It has been months since you started talking to Bradley, you spoke to him every single day, and fell asleep to the sound of his voice every night. Why were you hiding from him?

“I-.....I don’t know.” You confessed to Hangman.

“Then whats stopping me from getting up and telling Rooster who you are?” Hangman asked you with a raised eyebrow.

You stared at him, the words lost in your throat.

“Nothing then I guess..” He got up and started his way to the back.

You pulled his arm back similar to how he did to you earlier that day. He looked at you and your hand on his arm.

“Please don’t…I beg you.”

He sat back down on his stool giving you a questioning look but gave you the time to get your thoughts together.

“I never intended for it to go on this long or this far..” You explained.

“Bradley is so important to me. I knew he was special the first time I ever heard his voice.”

“It was during the uranium plant detachment from a few months ago. I risked my whole damn career to save him.”

“I released the dagger reserve without Admiral Simpson’s approval.” You continued.

“That was you? You gave me clearance that day?” His eyes finally lost the skepticism and was replaced with admiration.

“I did, everyone in that control room was completely frozen. I couldn’t just let them die.”

“But that doesn’t explain this whole situation you have going on with him.” He questioned

“That was the last I expected to ever see of him, but you all decided to stay here in Miramar and I made the mistake of speaking to him a little too long over comms.”

“That’s to be expected honey, Rooster is a big ol flirt.” Hangman chuckled.

“Well not as a big of a flirt as me though.” He winked at you.

He was trying to ease your worries and you appreciated that from him. Especially since he thought the worst of you less than 10 minutes ago.

“And of course you and Mav have heard how he got my number over comms and thats currently where we are now.” You finished.

“Okay so thats the backstory, and you clearly care about him and he cares about you.”

“So it still doesn't answer why you haven’t told him who you are.”

“Think about it this way Lieutenant Commander…”

“You, Phoenix, Payback, Coyote, and Rooster. You are some of the most important and most revered people in the Navy short of the Admirals.”

“You are the first in command, you are the best of the best in the entire world.”

“What do I? A low level ATC, have to offer Bradley?.”

“I am just me, and he is who he is. I could never be a person whos good enough for him.”

“But didn’t I just tell you? Bradshaw is in love with you.” Hangman argued.

You smiled sadly, turning your head to glance at Bradley at the pool tables. His head thrown back in laughter at something Fanboy said.

“Maybe..he is.” You turned back to Hangman.

“But one look at me and he’ll change his mind.”

“I don’t understand. Do you think you’re-” Hangman’s response was interrupted by Rooster popping up behind you both.

“Hangman, I thought you were getting a beer?”

You suddenly felt lightheaded, the sight of Rooster standing so close to you making your heart beat a million times per minute.

“Whos your friend?” Rooster asked Hangman while looking at you with a smile.

You wouldn’t dare open your mouth and speak, risking Bradley recognizing your voice. You stared at Hangman with pleading eyes, hoping he didn’t give you away to Rooster.

Hangman looked at Rooster and back at you, pausing for a moment.

Hangman finally speaks telling Rooster your name. Fuck. You were naïve to think he’d keep your secret.

“We actually just met, she’s getting over a case of laryngitis so her voice is a little hoarse.” Hangman explained.

You smiled at him, silently thanking him for not revealing your charade.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You let out in a hoarse voice, turning to look at Bradley.

He reached out and shook your hand and you can feel your stomach doing backflips for finally getting to touch the man that you’ve spent several months falling in love with.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that ma’am, I hope you feel better.” Bradley offered politely.

“I’ll leave you and Hangman to your conversation.” He excused himself and returned to the pool table, you stared at him longingly as he walked away.

Hangman looked at you in amusement.

“You got it bad, don’t you honey?” Hangman asked with a slight chuckle.

“That obvious?” You asked him

“Couldn’t be any less subtle if you tried.”

“Which makes it so funny that Bradshaw had no clue its you.” He chortled.

“Me personally, if I were him, I would know it was you the minute I saw you.” He added with a smirk,

Leave it to Hangman to be an insatiable flirt.

“Thank you for helping me out.”

As big of an asshole Hangman can be, he really did have a good heart.

“Your secret is safe with me honey.”

——————————————————————————————-

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#rooster top gun #rooster imagine #rooster angst #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster #hangman #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin #Top gun #top gum maverick #top gun one shot

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agent-troi · 1 year ago

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20 fanfic questions

thanks for the tag @randomfoggytiger!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

95.

2. What’s your total Ao3 words count?

368,619

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files, Star Trek: TNG, Star Trek: Picard, the Star Trek novel-verse, and I just posted a fic for The West Wing

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Platonic Procreation, Eden, The MSR Files, Mother Knows Best, and Though the Heavens Fall (also I need to mention my current WIP Security Questions bc it's only three kudos away from a tie with fifth place!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Most of the time! I usually respond to friends/ people I know well, or if someone pointed out something specific in my fic they liked. And I responded to every comment made on my West Wing fic so far bc I want the fandom to notice me😅

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lol I don’t write many fics with angsty endings (I do like writing angst sometimes but I need things to end happily😅) but I guess this would be Baby Blue, If I Could Only Break the Sky, or When We Were Whole (not sure which one would be the most angsty)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

so many! lol but I wanna single out Coda bc it was my attempt at wrapping up the mytharc and giving Mulder and Scully a happy ending with William (and giving Samantha’s storyline some actual closure lmao) and I think I did a decent job of it🤗

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did get a hateful comment on a fic not long ago (ironically, it was and still is my most popular fic by almost every metric so someone was clearly jelly lmao) and I’ve had a couple of comments in the past on different fics that weren’t quite hateful but more like critiquing/nitpicking character or writing choices.

9. Do you write smut?

no absolutely not never ugh

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t think I’ve ever written one! But I have ideas for TXF/Star Trek and TXF/SVU crossovers that I might write someday if I ever find the time/energy/inspiration😅

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so but I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No idea!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! The gang and I have co-written quite a few fics, which can all be found in this collection🤗

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

MSR of course!! But I will always have a soft spot for Riker/Troi and joshdonna is beginning to take up more and more space in my brain lmao

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have a Riker/Troi amnesia fic that has been sitting in my notes for three years, every chapter either written, partly written, or outlined, but I just can’t make myself sit down and sort it out😫 also I used to start publishing fics before I was certain where I was going with them, and For War Alone is a relic of that (and it has also been sitting there since 2020 lol)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have been told I’m really good at dialogue, and I choose to take people at their word😅

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m addicted to adverbs, also I just love reusing the same words and phrases over and over- one time in a first draft I used the word ‘actually’ four times in a single paragraph!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love reading that! I feel like it makes the setting and characters and everything seem more realistic, but for writing it I pretty much need to rely on google translate or multilingual moots lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a LotR fic a long time ago! But the first fic in my modern day stretch of fic writing was for the Star Trek novel-verse: Psi-Ops

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh gosh this is so hard but I’m gonna say Where A Million Stars Catch Fire bc I put in a lot of time and effort carefully constructing it as a tribute to Mulder’s birthday this year, and I’m really proud of how it ultimately turned out🥰

Tagging @tofuttim @katy-kt-katie @incidental-ao3 @cutemothman @mollybecameanengineer and whoever else who wants to do it!

#tag game #fic tag game #fanfic writing #ao3 fanfic

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bi-demon-ium · 8 months ago

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AO3 Tag Game!

Tagged by @mvshortcut :) I did it here as well but now I'm doing it for this fandom/account bc I CAN (a lot of this will be directly copy/pasted if applicable im sowwy)

How many works do you have on AO3?

116. (Including snippet collections.) For this fandom/account. Far more if you count others,

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Okay this one it won't let me separate by pseud or fandom so you're just gonna have to live with being lumped in with all my MBS and a few other misc fics at "653,461". Didn't get the other accounts though. Man, I'm a mess

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

Okay, well, this one by nature is also not solely for this fandom,

(number in parentheses is number of ao3 works posted)

The Mysterious Benedict Society (116) (including snippet collections)

Ted Lasso (44) (also including snippet collections)

Instinct (2) (one is a small snippet collection--)

House MD (1)

Death by Dying (1)

Gravity Falls, technically, but it was one crossover (1)

ditto with The Legend of Zelda (1)

King Falls AM (1)

The House in the Cerulean Sea (6)

Shadowhunters (??? at least 36) (some now hidden/lost)

Professor Layton (1)

The Librarians (2)

The Sandman (1)

The Mentalist (2)

Star Trek (AOS) (1)

Sanders Sides (at least 1)

Miraculous Ladybug (1)

Rosewell: New Mexico (2)

The Dresden Files (1)

That's stuff posted to ao3/finished. There's also, technically,

for stuff I published when I was twelve and I now refuse to acknowledge (not all bc of the fandom but bc the fic was Bad):

Doctor Who

Supernatural

Sherlock

Psych

Castle

Welcome to Night Vale

Avengers

A Series of Unfortunate Events

And then stuff I've written for but never finished:

Warehouse 13

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (2016)

Dirk Gently (2010)

SurrealEstate

Zoo (podcast)

Once Upon a Time

Scooby Doo

Person of Interest

The Goes Wrong Show

Spy Kids (???)

Ace Attorney

The Adventure Zone

Criminal Minds

Star Trek (TOS, TNG, and DS9)

Haven

MacGyver

Trollhunters

exactly one (1) joke The Magnus Archives fic

Percy Jackson and the Olympians + The Kane Chronicles + Tales of Apollo

Leverage

Pushing Daisies

The Sarah Jane Adventures

Megamind

Bones

Avatar: the Last Airbender

Lucifer

Some of these are deeply questionable and/or only have like two (2) wips or even posted works at most, but I'm thorough. Also, I will write about almost anything bc my brain loves to process things like this. I may have even missed something

Top five fics by kudos:

I was gonna have the snippets collections not count but I've got so many exact ties it doesn't matter.

gemini schmemini (136)

kate and her bucket sitting in a tree, S-P-Y-I-N-G (98)

caught (81)

[insert poetic title here] (81)

affectionate gestures<3 (81)

of rube goldbergs and weather machines (74)

tumblr snippets: mbs edition (74)

keeping out the cold (70)

birdsong (70)

Number Two Regrets Her Life Choices™ (68)

timeline? i don't know her (68)

That's actually 6 bc I made a mistake but I've already color coded them so whatever

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to, but then I get all in my head about it and/or am really really tired and put it off so long it then feels like it would be weird to respond because it's been forever. However, if there's a direct question or something I want to address/respond to, as in, I have something particularly unique to say or a question to answer, then I'll usually respond really fast.

And this fandom's smaller so if I'm slightly more likely to respond 😭

Also when I know who's commenting personally which is al ot more likely

What’s the fic with the angstiest ending you’ve ever written?

Honestly, I'm not a huge unhappy ending person, but. uhhh

solo

bring me home (in a blinding dream)

hollowed

seasalt

checkmate

dark side of the moon

wretched clarity

cruel kindness

green-eyed monster

the naming of cats

curled & crushed

oops

I didn't even look at the snippet collections lkgfhjh

Do you write crossovers?

Not often, but I rotate them in my brain. Honestly, though, I'm more inclined to write a fusion than a crossover proper. And even so, I tend to just be thinking about it rather than actually writing it. I've only written one crossover in recent memory (recently, that is) and it was mostly a joke about a shared actress made into actual angst. :)

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Yeah lmao

Do you write smut?

😏 ......not for this fandom. That I'd post anyway

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

👁️👁️ not. Directly in this fandom

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!! also not in this fandom

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

In this fandom? Nicholas/Milligan. Overall, ever? Recency bias/hyperfixationitis says whatever I'm into the most at the moment. But generally for MBS I prefer gen (although I've written a lot of Nicholas/Milligan, that's partially because it's blissfully easier to find gen already)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

SO many

Particularly minotaur, the dearly departed, and the "paralyzed" series. Oh and the hanahaki AU

What are your writing strengths?

I think I can write a really funny string of dialogue, and I'm also fond of fun metaphors, both in the elegant poetic way and in the more Douglas Adams/Terry Pratchett way (which is to say, still potentially elegant but also comedic as hell)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Motivating myself to write anything; being overly self-indulgent

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I'm extremely bad at linguistics in general, so if I must include someone talking in another language in my fic, I think I'd tend to cheat and do italics or some other indication that this is 'in another language' (ie "Where are you going?" she asked in Russian), but that's admittedly a lazy approach. But I also think it's probably better than butchering it with an auto-translator? Also, when people just include the translation in the end notes, even with a link (although that makes it marginally better) it breaks the flow of the story and makes it hard to read. Making an effort to at least match grammar is good (which I would do if it was for longer than a single scene, probably) but I think the best solution is when people know what they're doing and like, have an actual translation with a little html code so you can click on it and it reveals what it means? Or if you're clever, revealing what it means using context around it, but that has its own limitations. So that both like, uses the actual language and doesn't break up the flow. It balances accessibility, flow, and respect for the other language in question well. But you've got to both know what you're doing with the language (either asking someone/hiring someone/knowing the language yourself) and the html (although there are guides for that you'd have to spend time figuring it out + know it exists in the first place to look). And this is fanfiction, something we ultimately do for free in our spare time, so the lazy approach, I think, can be understandable. Maybe not in every context, but it's not worth stressing a lot over in a few random lines or anything, you know? It is really cool when people do know a language well enough to include it properly in a fic, though, it can say a lot about a character or dynamic; and their background(s) and like. it's neat :)

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Ever? Doctor Who. In a shitty little notebook in middle school. Then there was some Star Trek (both TNG and TOS) and Avatar: the Last Airbender and Marvel and such, and then Supernatural (my first smut? extremely terrible Destiel smut. rip) and I think the first thing I ever posted was Welcome to Night Vale? Not sure.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

Oh, man. I have no idea. Here's a few favorites from this fandom:

cain's lament

minotaur

shades of green

a hope in hell

Number Two Regrets Her Life Choices™

tagging:

PLEASE, if you want to do this, I'm begging you, tag me in it and do it. i'm too tired to come up with names im so sorry

#long post #gertspeak #tag game #:)

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wholemonsternut · 1 year ago

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i was clipping my nails & i just remembered a story that made me very sensitive abt my my own nails ever since i was a kid haha

there is some gore to it so it is spooky month themed XD

i have those long nails where the nail bed goes all the way to the tip of the finger so that means any growth (the white free edge part) results in my nails sticking out like claws idk moving on...

bc of how it is, the very end of the nail bed is very exposed & be easily cut into. earlier this year, i was opening a box & i wasn't careful enough with where i placed my fingers so one of the corners wedged itself between my right ring finger nail & i bled a significant amount & i could've sworn if i had truly panicked & yanked my hand the wrong direction, half of the nail would be ripped off the flesh (that may have been dramatic but this is my post)

>>ANYWAY, that was just exposition just in case any of you friends don't know what it's like to have something like that because that is a key detail in this story

for some reason my teacher genuinely did not believe that such nails exist (in fairness, at 8yrs old, i have also yet to know anyone else with genetically long nails like mine, so i took her word for it), telling us that it is very unsanitary, unprofessional, & akin to school delinquents to have long nails so she insisted to clip my nails for me

after not only humiliating me amongst my other 8 yr old peers, i also had to stay after the class. she pulled out an assortment of nail clippers & nail files from her purse. & immediately grabs & manhandles my little childish fingers

starting with my right hand, she starts digging the nail clipper into my nail. shocked & ready to cry already, i told her that the nail clipper was too deep & tried to point out that it's gonna bleed while also trying to pull away but she just scoffed (or whatever you'd understand a "tch" as) & held me in a sort of headlock... it felt like i was a sheep being sheered

i wasn't sure what was scarier, the feeling of the large nail clipper being wedged between my nail & flesh that it might as well just pop the whole nail off or the top layer skin being actively cut & yet to bleed to signal to the teacher the she should stop

it took until the we're at the thumb until one of my finger tips are finally stained with blood to have her immediately stop. i was so relieved that it was over & that i still have time to suck up my tears before anyone noticed.

however to her, my fingers are only bleeding because i was moving a lot & making a fuss over nothing

about to move to the left hand, she gave me an opportunity to willingly give my hand without her needing to hold me still. me, being a powerless child, i quickly understood that i do not know how exactly to get out of this situation

so i very hesitantly laid my left hand onto her free hand which she then grabbed the fingers anyway ig because i was very obviously shaking. her grip gets stronger every time i so much as flinch

for some reason, this side hurts more & thinking back i think it's because earlier she was holding my wrist/fingers so tightly that i was kind of numb to the full pain

i had my eyes closed for the most part & heard her sweeping the table (to clean up the nail clippings). i didn't want to be hopeful that it was over like i was minutes ago but i stared at her movements for a few seconds to confirm that she was putting away her things.

standing from my seat, i was ready to run hoping that i could catch that one kid selling bandages but

"where do you have to be so quickly? sit first. i'm not done yet." (best translation i can do, sorry)

she taps the previously mentioned nail file. at this time of my life, i didn't know what those were so i had no idea what she was about to do with a foam stick covered in sandpaper

i had a more verbal reaction with this one. apparently i was being a "whiny, dirty, unkempt, spoiled brat" standing up for myself for not wanting someone to rub my wounds with sandpaper but tbh i think i was a more of a personal opinion

i managed to get out of this part of the manicure session by saying that recess was almost over & i was very hungry

i couldn't find that kid that sold bandages that day btw

thank you so much for joining me in my dramatic retelling of my childhood self's torture session <3

#yes i was clipping my nails short & cut myself that made me tell this story how did u know #after graduating i do purposefully keep my nails longer bc it feels like that exposed bit is a little more protected XD #blogging #blabers

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 3 months ago

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I'm gonna answer these both right now.

These have been sitting in my ask box for a few days and admittedly, I was just gonna let them rot there but.

Let's talk.

I write in my spare time. I don't get paid to write fanfictions ( unless they are commissioned pieces, which are all on a hold for the foreseeable future ), imagines, etc. It's something I do when I have the time & I have the muse to do so.

Why haven't I been writing as much?

-I suffered 2 major deaths in my family literally 2 weeks apart from each other. The first one, I was in vacation in another state & had to cut it short, turn around, and drive 1600 miles in 3 days to go home, pick up my family, drive to my other family, have the funeral, go through a tornado outbreak that same night while staying in a hotel & having nowhere to go, find out that some of my relatives houses were damaged & the city they lived in had been majorly damaged by the tornadoes, and then drive home. And then, 2 weeks later, there's another death on the other side of my family. So my summer was spent grieving and in funerals.

-Prior to that, I have depression!! I had a depressive episode that lasted for a hot minute where I didn't do anything!!

-NOW, I got a new job & am back to work for the first time in 1 year and 8 months. It took me a year and eight months to find a job that is nowhere even near my degree field. Wild shit. Anyways. My new job takes a LOT of mental strength. I work as an attorney's assistant. I work Wednesday & Thursday, all day. Fridays are my half days. Which doesn't sound bad!! Except I have a stack of things I have to file that is nearly 200 pages deep bc there was a gap between the person before me leaving & when I started that they got behind. So I'm busy 20 hours a week. & what I handle can be VERY emotionally hard, as I've recently found out. I can't share details bc privacy laws- but I have to read some not great shit.

-In the 4 days that I have off, I help my mother. I'm a partial caretaker for her; I do all of the grocery runs & doctor appointments in those spare times.

So. Yknow. I enjoy writing, I have requests that I've been working on & things in my drafts that I do work on in my free time, but like. I have a life, yknow? And I know everyone has shit going on in their personal lives, I get that. I know fanfiction & fandom is an escape.

But I'm just a person. I have a partner who I try to spend as much time as possible with bc we're long distance. There's a lot more happening that I'm not gonna talk about here because quite frankly- it isn't anyone's business.

I love writing. I love making fanfiction and I love writing requests but y'all have got to stop treating us writers like your personal fiction creators that exist only for your beck & call. Bc I've seen that happen a LOT over the last few years. Majority of us do this for free because we enjoy it. That's it.

So yeah. I will post when I have something done or if I have any silly little thoughts I wanna share about whichever character is taking up space in my brain.

K thanks bye.

#psa #kanon's anons #be nice to writers

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lazaruspiss · 4 months ago

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20 questions for writers

tagged by @roipecheur mwah mwah !!

1. how many works do you have on AO3? - 34

2. what's your total AO3 word count? - 65,516

3. what fandoms do you write for? - its pure DC brainrot babes. maybe that'll change one day, but i have a hard time balancing multiple interests

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? - A Kind Place To Rest, What’s in a gift?, Indulgence, Always a Kitten, Red Wings

5. do you respond to comments? - i try!!! but know that even if i don't reply i give each and every comment a lil smooch

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? - most of my stuff is pretty fucked up, but Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish. and The Leagues That Go Bump In The Night are probably up there? both because they involve Dick experiencing violent assaults with the promise of more to come and because he doesn't compartmentalize/justify/repress it much at all. so he's just forced to experience The Horrors. Damian's chapter in A curse in disguise. is the thing that actually makes me wanna yell though. I wrote that?? I only have myself to blame for making me feel things??? what the fuck man.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? - tough question. hm. I was able to pull up like, 6 candidates, but I'm not really sure how to measure "happy ending". Endings that were the most... more happy by the end than when they started...? i guess? There are a few that end on a "and the ship sailed happily ever after" type note. New Beginnings is a bit more enthusiastically happy, because Dick and Kori are just so damn excited to have babies

8. do you get hate on fics? - most of the hate i've gotten has been tumblr anons, lol

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind? - the freaky kind >:) (22/34 of my fics are explicit)

10. do you write crossovers? - nah. thought about it, have wanted to, but it takes a bit more planning than a regular fic

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? - nah

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? - no, but i would welcome it so long as it linked back and all that

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? - WAIT YES I HAVE. in middle school i think? during a sleepover a friend and i sat together on a couch and sent emails back and forth, taking turns adding onto a smut fic about british gaming youtubers that i dont think they even knew? also our incredibly innocent/prudish christian friend might have also been there lmao. that fic stayed in our emails im pretty sure.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? - ough...h hg..... jay and cole from ninjago. w other series i tend to be more "pick a fav and explore all possible parings involving them", but i only ever picture jay and cole with each other. for me that means something

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will? - oh uh. gotta bust out file explorer hold on. I did plan on making an entire series of fics connected to Little Princess, but I doubt I'll get to that, especially bc im not that proud of that fic anymore. there are a couple more fairly detailed and large projects sitting in my scrapped folder. and i mean, i keep a scrapped folder bc that way i dont have the pressure of finishing it but i still have the option if i want to.

16. What are your writing strengths? - uhm. uh.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? - forget to write the words. i also have a bit of dyslexia and miss stuff no matter how much i proof read

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? - depends? if it's a full conversation then i think i'd opt for <dialogue> or something like that, but if it's for random background chatter or mixed language dialogue then maybe just use the actual words. kind of have to, in the second case. spanglish type talk is fun actually, like sometimes i just talk like that to try and figure out what spanish i remember

19. First fandom you wrote for? - probably minecraft youtubers? the first i posted online was my hero academia tho. dont ask me about MHA btw i literally only care about kaminari and stopped keeping up like 4 years ago

20. Favourite fic you've written? - uh. hm. Aha! only my third fic but it ticks all my boxes and i love it dearly: Lulu Belle And The Cat-Chaser

#tag game

0 notes

mybrainproblems · 11 months ago

Text

aaaand... adding even more to this post since some of it is a follow-up on the above, I want to keep it on the same post.

so after making the above post, @happilyfeatherafter reminded me that some of the times i remembered misha talking about returning to set were from a livestream and community texts, not from twitter.

in the livestream with michael sheen from 30 july 2020, he talks about taking cas' coat from set bc he wasn't sure if they'd be going back (gif set here) [disclaimer that i've only skipped around through that livestream and not watched it start to finish in its entirety.]

also, the 15x20 script was way sketchier than i remembered and @lets-steal-an-archive made a post about it back when it was being auctioned about why they wouldn't be bidding on it that goes into more detail. and yeah. with the additional context (and some x files script pics they sent for comparison), that script is super sketchy. i'm not about to waste the printer ink to sit down with a copy and do a read-along with an 11th watch of the finale, but it doesn't inspire confidence no matter how close it is to the final product.

also, the seller had the benefit of listing it post-finale airing but two months prior to the s15 DVD releasing with deleted scenes so... idk. this is super outside my wheelhouse so i won't spec further. the script is just really sketchily sourced and iirc the bidder got a refund since the seller then offered PDF scan versions for very cheap to others who asked... none of which inspires confidence.

further shenanigans from the past few days' life ruining research! not calling any of this a smoking gun, but based on the tumblr source time stamps; it looks like misha sent out the below pics as community texts post-finale but the pics themselves were taken during 15x18 filming - if anyone has the actual time stamps i'd love to know! even after half a day of searching, i couldn't find versions with a time stamp on them. in both cases, they seem to indicate that he knew this was his last day or last episode filming for the show. (he's also mentioned that they threw him a good bye party after 15x18 and idk why you'd do that if you intended for the actor to come back.)

(left pic source) (middle & right pic source)

whenever misha has talked about being in the finale, it's been in reference to an "original" pre-COVID version of the script where he would be jimmy novak and not cas. but given that 15x18 wrapped before shutdown, my guess is that it had already been settled that he wouldn't be in the finale. so yes this would have been a "pre-COVID" script, but probably not the prod draft script from march 2020.

(and having spoken with ppl who were already in the fandom when s15 started airing/looking at posts from fall 2020/pre-15x18... a good chunk of ppl didn't expect misha to be in the last two eps when it started airing again)

i would also like to note that when talking about "pre-COVID" scripts from s15... that could be anywhere from may/june 2019 to march 2020 when set shut down, which @swordofsun and I went back and forth on a bit discussing here wrt revisions of 15x20.

and i'm loathe to bring it up without a source, but i know there was something floating around about misha(?) saying in a m&g at the las vegas con in march 2020 that the finale script was still going through a lot of revisions. so at that point, a kinda short window before they returned to set to finish 15x19 and 15x20. iirc there was a tweet about it that has since been deleted but i tend to take m&g stuff with a grain of salt.

point being - the 15x20 script is way sketchier than i remembered and there's more actual evidence that misha wasn't intended to be in the finale from before set shut down (and the "misha filmed but was cut" conspiracy continues to be my personal bugbear)

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

#spelunking back; it just looks like a group of someones (and apparently jake abel) whipped ppl up into thinking misha would be back #without any actual proof besides jabel making 'where's misha' posts and fans like 'source: trust me bro'#i think ppl just really REALLY don't consider how much covid fucked with everyone's memory and sense of time #so many of the 'clues' ppl talk about aren't from ppl directly involved in filming the last two eps either pre or post shutdown #like sp8 might've had an inkling of earlier script versions *with* misha but his focus would have been on 15x18 & he was done after that #finales georg #fandom debunking #spn #i don't even actually care about the 15x20 script tbh. writer's draft of 10x09 is what my heart is set on for Reasons.

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hoeforalbedo · 2 years ago

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heyy! saw ur post ab scara and i just. my brain is full of him so here:

Scaramouche who would be hella annoying when he wants attention like he’s a fucking cat, knocking shit over on ur desk and being obnoxious bc he likes to see you frustrated (sfw)

Scaramouche who makes you thigh ride him while he works because he likes to see you whimper (nsfw/suggestive)

idk how helpful these r but yeah!

Scaramouche x afab!reader

Summary: Scara is a terrible boss. You hate him but you love him. Modern AU

warnings:mentions of female genitals, sex, making out, cursing, thigh-riding, Scara being a bitch, idk tell me if I missed anything

SFW

Scaramouche is the worst boss you've ever had. Well it is your first time being a secretary for a very large company and of course you plan to be on your best behavior and be a great role model for everyone.

Someone, however, stirs you from going down that path. How can a CEO be so obnoxious?? First, he makes you do most of his work for him. He would give you stacks of papers and expects you to finish it for him when he's the one who should be doing it. "Just stamp my authorization or something. I don't really care what you do with the ones you don't like. Stamp it or not." He would then go out for some coffee or wine, whatever floats his boat.

This man even has the audacity, when he's bored, to sit on your desk, look through the papers, and throw them at every corner of the room. "You're looking quite frustrated, makes me want to annoy you even more," He would smirk.

"I’ll make sure you don’t have that satisfaction then,” You smirk, trying to talk back. You really can't really push him away because he is your boss and he knows it. He enjoys the power over you and he would continue to tease you.

"Oh please, I’m always good at my own game.” He slaps down a few more files and reaches over to mess up your hair. “I expect you to get this done asap. It's for the conference tomorrow. Better get working, busy bee." He would smirk while he leaves you, huffing and turning red from frustration.

Even when you’re very busy, he’ll still give you things to do. “Hey busy bee, my office is getting dirty. Sweep and mop it for me.”

“I’m not the janitor,” You would say with an attitude and roll your eyes. He’s always like this.

“I’m still your boss so you can either make you stay overtime or you clean,” He says and he doesn’t really mean it. You, however, were scared because he can and will do that. Honestly, what he wanted was to have you in his office and just look at you. You however, have been playing his game for too long and you plan to bite back.

NSFW

Now you are sweeping up the floor with the broom he provided for you and you would occasionally bend over to sweep under shelves and desks. Your pencil skirt would go up a bit, exposing more of your thigh. Your skirt also perfectly enunciates your ass and Scara would be lying if he said he didn’t have a boner right now.

As for what you saw, you can’t help but think that Scara belongs behind that desk, wearing the most expensive of clothes. He looks very hot with the way he works, when he does decide to. He looks so serious and domineering when he orders and punishes his employees.

You bite your lip as the only place left to sweep is his area. “Excuse me,” You innocently say, your excuse being that you need to sweep under his desk. Scara moves his chair back and you bend over, right in front of him unintentionally seducing him yet you don’t really mind anyways. It’s time that the hating game ends.

“If you wanted to fuck you could have just said so,” Scaramouche scoffs. His laid back on his office leather chair, tie loosened and a few of the buttons undone.

You roll your eyes in annoyance and just when you were about to make a cock comeback, you thought of a much better idea. “Thanks for giving me the permission.” And so, you straddle him, to which he did not expect, and you can feel the bulge in his pants against your heat. “Allow me to indulge myself,” You smile and capture his lips in yours.

Scara gradually eases himself and takes control, placing both hands on your hips as you cup his face. The kiss is sensual and passionate, letting go of all pent up hate and turning it to lust. Love and hate are very much one of the same things.

He slides your skirt up to your stomach and gropes your ass. You moan into his mouth. You're feeling hot with anticipation. He’s so close to where you want him to touch you. You’re soaked, waiting for him to fuck your hole. Scara loops the waist of your underwear on his finger and pulls it down. You aid him, standing up and allowing them to drop onto the floor.

Just when your panties are discarded, a ring from his work phone is heard. It’s an important phone call that he’s been anticipating. Before he picks up the phone, he says, “Oh we’re not done. Ride my thigh and get yourself off. If you are good, then I’ll give you what you want.”

Being the obeying secretary you are, your legs are between his thigh and your clit is directly on the fabric of his pants. You hiss at the sensation but you can’t help but want more. “You know what to do but keep quiet for me. It’s a very important call.”

And so, you are humping his thigh like a desperate whore, burying your face into his neck to keep quiet. As you do so, he’s talking professionally on call putting up the domineering aura as he gives orders.

It’s so hard to grind yourself down. The fabric of his pants only makes you more sensitive every time it brushes your swollen clit. It’s also not enough for you. Although it stimulates you, nothing compares to when you’re getting filled up with a finger circling your bud.

You’re shaking but you’re also slowing down. Trying to chase a high that wont come. Scara isn’t helping much either. Now he is chatting up the person on the other side of the phone, purposely taking his time with the call. As he does so, a hand holds onto your hip, aiding you to get yourself off.

If only the call would just end. He is sadistic for enjoying watching you act desperate and grinding on his thigh while you hold back moans. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to leave the call just so that he could watch you get off on just humping him. Lucky for you, he really does want to fuck you and after a while, he got bored of the call and ended it.

“Since you’ve been very good, I’ll fuck you now.”

#scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #Genshin #genshin imapct #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader smut #genshin smut

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soulwillower · 3 years ago

Text

semi-charming • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :) + AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH + don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au,

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional.

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that.

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake.

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise.

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door.

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes.

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either.

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music."

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off."

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation.

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding.

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give.

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in."

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it.

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him.

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?"

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms.

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?"

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person.

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst.

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg.

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall.

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!"

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him.

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either.

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts.

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet.

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack."

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf.

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot.

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you.

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip.

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane. "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly.

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth.

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away.

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid.

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh.

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from.

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done."

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated."

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly.

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are, i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out.

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you.

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you.

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own. "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving?

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants.

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes.

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down.

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate.

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once.

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure.

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?"

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to."

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock.

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back.

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly.

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan.

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums.

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out.

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce.

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building.

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours.

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

"you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to.

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already.

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple.

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours.

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close.

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters.

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall.

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous.

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease.

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough smut #losers club x reader #losers club smut

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted!

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

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ssahoodrathotchner · 4 years ago

Text

Pictures of You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you lose your memories of the last few years, including the ones of your relationship with Aaron. The rest of the team thinks it’s hilarious.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: memory loss, swearing, some angst, hospital, talk of injuries, team shenanigans and fluff

A/N: okay this was a lot of fun to write bc soft!Hotch rights !! also really wanted to make the team play a larger role in a fic so here we go :)

Masterlist

---

You wake in a hospital bed, Morgan by your side, and a godawful pounding in your cloudy head. With a groan, you try to raise one of your hands to cover your eyes as Morgan’s head shoots up to stare at you with a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hand before you can lift it higher, “Don’t do that. You had a nasty fall, Princess.”

Satisfied that you won’t make any more moves towards your head, he sits back down at your side.

“Should I even ask how you’re doing or…” he trails off when you glare at him. “I’ll go let the team know you’re okay. Boss Man will be happy to hear you finally woke up,” and with that, Morgan is up and out of the room before you can even open your mouth because what.

Shifting around in the bed, you try to gauge just how injured you are, but the soreness in literally your entire body coupled with the haziness in your mind from the constant pain makes you conclude that you’ll leave it to the doctors to tell you what’s wrong. Sighing, you gently tilt your head to the side and observe the various beeping monitors.

The door opens and as you turn to see who it is, your mouth opens in disbelief. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no fucking way. This is fake. This is a dream. Your stomach simultaneously drops and fills with dread. How is this possible?

“You’re dead. You’re dead. We buried you,” you say in a rush, as none other than Emily fucking Prentiss stops by the side of your bed, looking at you confusedly. “Does this mean I’m dead? Are you a ghost?” you wonder out loud, and Emily looks behind her as the rest of the team, except Hotch, file in behind her, seemingly fine with her sudden appearance.

“How are you here, why are you here, what happened? You died. You’re supposed to be dead which means I’m probably dead,” you continue to ramble, frantically looking from at each member of your team and then back to Emily.

“What? Y/N, you aren’t dead. Just like I’m not dead,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you are,” you say shakily, chest tightening as your breaths become shorter and shorter.

“Y/N…” she says slowly, softly, “I faked my death four years ago.”

And with that, your ears rush and your mind goes blank. No no no no no no we buried her six months ago, she’s dead. You don’t notice the rest of the team trading glances around you as the world you thought you knew shatters and reforms in your mind.

“No,” you croak, throat suddenly constricting, but Emily only looks at you worriedly, Reid slipping out the door behind her.

“Y/N, can you take some deep breaths for me?” and your head turns to find JJ at your other side, hand on your shoulder. “Let’s breathe, you can do this,” she says, taking exaggerated breaths to demonstrate, smiling gently as you cooperate.

Reid enters, now, followed by a doctor who, immediately upon reaching your side, proceeds to shine a light in your eyes and asks you to complete all sorts of short tests while the team looks on.

“Now, Agent Y/L/N, Dr. Reid informed me that you seem to be having some memory issues, which is normal,” the doctor assures you, “especially with the head trauma you endured. So, tell me what you can remember and we’ll go from there,” he says with a helpful smile.

Fuck. What do you remember?

“Well…” you trail off, trying to pin-point an exact moment. “I remember Emily—Agent Prentiss’—funeral because it was six months ago, but apparently—” your eyes slide over the rest of the team, “—apparently, it was more like four years ago,” you finish slowly.

“And that’s as recent as you can remember?” the doctor pushes. You nod your head. “Well, Agent Y/L/N, it seems that you have post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which isn’t a surprise, as I said before. My guess is that it’s temporary, and that you’ll recover your memories in time.”

“Any ideas how long?” Emily speaks up, carefully looking at your face.

“With cases such as these, there isn’t a definite timeline or standard procedure for memory recovery,” the doctor explains. “It may help to look at photos or videos and tell stories to try and help Agent Y/L/N heal quicker, but the brain is tricky,” and with that wonderful statement, the doctor turns and exits, leaving you and your team staring at each other, processing the fact that you don’t know when you’ll get your memories of the last four freakin’ years back.

“So, from the research I’ve done, it seems that—” Reid is cut off by the door flying open and Aaron Hotchner, your Unit Chief, bursting into the room with a concerned look on his face wearing a hoodie and jeans.

Morgan tries to grab his shoulder, but Hotch shakes him off as he walks right up to your bedside and grabs your hand. Holy shit. Heat rises to your cheeks instantly and you think your heart might have actually skipped a beat but, you can’t help it, you’ve had a crush on Hotch for ages and he’s holding your hand. But you don’t remember a time when Hotch was so forward in showing concern for one of his agents.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, Sweetheart—” you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming because Hotch has never called you Sweetheart. Ever. You’ve also never seen him in anything other than a suit. “—Jessica called because Jack has the flu and then he wanted to talk to me and—”

“Hotch!” Morgan all but yells, interrupting Hotch’s update on Jack, as you stare pointedly at his hand, still holding yours, trying to control the redness growing steadily stronger in your cheeks. What the hell.

“Hotch,” Morgan states, softer this time, “The last thing Y/L/N remembers clearly is Prentiss’ funeral.”

You look up with a weak approximation of a smile, and watch Hotch’s face shift as he comprehends what Morgan said.

“That was years ago,” he says slowly, face hardening into a look you’ve seen too many times when he tries to separate himself from the information he’s received.

Looking down at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, so you divert your eyes to his hand in yours. Once he notices this, he gently lets go and you know it’s silly, but you almost reach out for it again. Who knows the next time Hotch will want to hold your hand?

“So you don’t…” he doesn’t finish his question, which leaves you even more confused. Don’t what…?

“Umm. If it’s happened in the last four-ish years, then umm… Then I probably don’t remember it,” you say quietly, apologetically. “Sir,” you add on quickly, not wanting to forgo formalities even if your memory isn’t what it’s supposed to be.

However, instead of nodding, like you thought he would, Aaron Hotchner looks sad which confuses you even more.

“Aaron,” Rossi begins slowly, “the doctor said that talking about what’s happened since then may help Y/N’s memory come back.” Hotch looks up, almost relieved. “So why don’t you tell her something that’s happened since Prentiss’ funeral.”

And with that, Hotch takes a breath before reaching across your body to your other hand and holding it up. Not quite sure what’s happening, you allow him to hold your left hand up in your line of vision and that’s when you notice a fucking wedding ring. On your hand. Which Hotch is holding.

“I’m married?” you screech, looking at the team, who are now all trying not to laugh for some reason. “Who am I married to? Holy shit, what?” you continue looking around. Morgan and Prentiss look like they’ll break into outright laughter any minute. What’s going on?

Looking helplessly to Hotch, who is suspiciously quiet, you don’t have to repeat your question before he is carefully letting go of your left hand to hold his own up next to it and since when did Hotch wear a wedding band? Until you notice the striking similarities between the ring on your hand, and the one on your boss. What the actual fuck.

“We’re married?” you say, whipping your head to the side—ouch—to stare at Hotch, who is looking a little more amused than worried. “What? When? I just…” you can’t even finish your train of thought because your head is spinning so fast.

“Is it really that much of a surprise, Princess?” Derek chimes in. “I mean, you guys have been in love with each other forever,” and with that, he and Prentiss dissolve into a fit of laughter, which they try to smother, but you’re too busy taking in this very new and very interesting life development.

At some point in the last couple years, you married Hotch. Which means he knows you like him. And he likes you. You dated Hotch and now you’re fucking married. And you can’t remember any of it.

“…I don’t remember it…” you say sadly, softly and the laughter ceases.

Running a hand through his hair, Hotch takes a step back and shrugs, a small, reassuring smile on his face.

“We’ll figure it out, Sweetheart—” your stomach erupts into butterflies, “—we always do.”

With a sigh, you sink back into the pillows on your bed and stare at the ceiling, head throbbing worse than before thanks to all the new information.

“I just…” you pause to think about your current dilemma. “I just don’t know where to start with all this…Getting my memory back,” you look to Hotch and then the team, unsure of what to do.

“Well, the doctor did say that photos and videos might help. I’d be willing to recount every conversation we’ve had since Emily’s funeral, if you want, including the ones that you weren’t a part of, but were about you or a case,” Reid offers with a grin, and your heart melts.

Slowly shaking your head, you answer, “Thanks but maybe later, Spence. I’m still stuck on the whole I’m-married-to-my-boss thing right now.”

“Trust me Princess,” Derek laughs “I’m pretty sure all of us could tell you about how everything went down like a damn movie.”

“Yeah…” JJ continues with a fond shake of her head, “You guys weren’t very subtle about it.”

Sneaking a look out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hotch blushing and staring down at his shoes before he also sneaks a look at you, meeting your eyes.

“See?” Derek’s voice breaks your gaze. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You guys weren’t subtle and still aren’t,” rolling his eyes, he laughs a little and you can’t help but smile.

“At least they’re married this time around,” Rossi supplies. “No more ‘secret’ glances and yearning,” he says with such contempt you can’t help but laugh as Hotch—Aaron? — lets out a small chuckle of his own.

“Now I just need to remember how we got here,” you say, feeling a little more at ease. Slowly, you reach for Hotch’s left hand, studying the ring the matches your own. “Remember us,” you continue, just to him, and the smile that overtakes his face is the best thing you’ve seen since waking up.

“You weren’t wrong, Morgan,” comes Emily’s voice from the end of your bed. “This is just like a movie. Ugh. But don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll help you sort this out.”

“And I know just the woman for the job,” Morgan adds with a mischievous smirk which immediately makes you wonder about whatever it is he has planned.

“Now as much as I’d love to watch the two lovebirds gaze into each other’s eyes, I actually have plans,” Rossi states, looking down at his watch. “So, I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says before waving to the rest of the team and leaving.

The rest of the team makes their own excuses to leave, and you can’t help but feel like Morgan and Prentiss have concocted some sort of scheme to “help” you get your memories back.

Running a hand over your face, you sigh. What now? The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up and realize that Hotch hadn’t left with the others, but was instead standing near the foot of your bed, looking somewhat anxious.

“I ummm… I was planning on spending the night here to make sure you were okay, but umm…” he trails off, unsure.

“But since I have no memory of us being together you think it’s weird…?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” he answers in a sigh. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here, especially because I know how frustrating and confusing this must be for you…”

“Hotch,” you start, but he can’t hide his wince when you call him that. “Aaron,” you try again. “Yes, this is incredibly confusing and frustrating because Emily should be dead and I didn’t think you had feelings for me at all,” you pause and see him smile, just a bit, “But I’d really like it if you stayed here. With me. Because—” you take a deep breath. “—Because you make me feel safe, Aaron, and I need that right now,” you say gently, not quite sure where the confidence came from, but Aaron’s eyes soften and his smile grows bigger as his shoulders drop in relief. Worth it.

“Then I’ll stay,” he says, and you can’t help the heat that once again rises in your cheeks as he continues to look at you.

You guys are married, dammit. Pull it together.

Averting your gaze, you turn your attention to getting more comfortable in your bed and decide to fuss with the placement of your pillows because damn was your back starting to hurt, but Aaron beats you to it. Within ten seconds of arranging the pillows behind you, he has them perfect.

“How…?” you start to question, but he just raises his eyebrows. “Right. Married,” you say with a shake of your head.

Aaron finally sits in the chair next to your bed and reaches, almost absentmindedly, for your hand before catching himself and stilling. You can see the fight in his mind—he wants to comfort you and himself, but with your memory, he doesn’t quite know where your boundaries are. Taking pity on him, you grab his hand yourself, weaving your fingers together so he knows it was on purpose. Okay so you really just wanted to hold his hand again, but you’re married! You’re allowed. He takes a deep breath and leans back in the chair, turning his head to really look at you.

“How’s your head?” he asks, brow furrowed in what you’ve come to understand is genuine concern.

You pause and consider for a moment.

“Not terrible, but not great,” you say slowly. “It’s like there’s a fog in my mind that I can’t see through. I know I’m missing stuff, but I just don’t know what.”

Aaron gently squeezes your hand, but doesn’t speak yet.

“I want to know what brought Emily back, how we happened, what it was that gave me this fucking injury, I just…” with an exasperated huff, you collect yourself. “I just want to know.”

“Well, Emily should be the one to tell you her part of the story, and as for us,” he gives you a smile “it’s a longer answer, at least for me, so that will have to wait—Sorry, Sweetheart,” he says when you pout. “However, I can tell you about what landed you in the hospital. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start,” you tease, and yes Aaron smiles wider and rolls his eyes.

“We were chasing an unsub, and Garcia had tracked him to a warehouse not too far from Quantico. We went there and—” his voice wavers. You squeeze his hand. “—and the unsub had set explosives around the perimeter of the building. I guess you got too close to him when trying to talk him down and he triggered the whole set.” Aaron sighs, and his eyes are glazed over like he’s reliving this—which he probably is—and there’s nothing you can really do besides let him take his time.

“You weren’t right by any of them, but you were thrown back and had hit the ground before I could even yell at you to stop—not that you would have listened,” he says pointedly with a watery laugh. “You just laid there, Morgan and I carried you over to the medics as soon as the dust settled and they took you away as we cleared the rest of the scene.”

“And the unsub?”

“He didn’t survive the explosion. As soon as we figured that out, we left it to the local PD and crime scene techs.” He looks at you softly. “We came straight here after that.”

“How long was I out before today,” you ask lightly, curiously.

“Three days. Dave had to convince me to go home and shower on the second day.” He looks down before sneaking a sideways glance at you.

“Well I’m glad he did,” you tease, scrunching your nose.

“And I’m glad you’re awake, Sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing your hand.

You laugh and look away before mumbling, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Get used to what?” he waits a second. “Sweetheart?” Motherfucker. He knows what he’s doing.

“That! I woke up convinced you didn’t have feelings for me at all,” you say with a glare, “and now I know we’re married and you keep being so nice and understanding and calling me Sweetheart and I just don’t know how to deal with all of this!” you finish in a huff.

“I just feel bad that I can’t remember this, us” you add, gesturing between the two of you. “I’m trying and there’s just—” you make a frustrated noise and flop back to stare at the ceiling. “And my head still kind of hurts,” you add softly, almost pouting.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Aaron whispers. He clears his throat before continuing. “You’ll get your memories back,” he leans forward to stroke some hair off your forehead. “And until then, you know the team and I will do what we can to catch you up and help you remember.”

You push your head further into his hand with a sigh. He runs his hand through your hair a few times before pulling back and you almost whine. You yawn instead. Settling down, you tug the blanket up higher across your chest and turn to face Aaron as he also gets comfortable. He turns on the small television in your room and at some point, you fall asleep holding his hand.

---

You wake to the sound of the door opening, followed by the unmistakable click-clack of heels worn by none other than Penelope Garcia.

“Rise and shine! Time to regain your memory, lovely Y/N,” she sings, coming to a stop by the side of your bed as you roll over with a yawn.

“Pen—” you groan. “Let me sleep. Please.”

“Oh no, my little profiler. Do you have your memory back?” You shake your head. “Then we need to work on that! And don’t you dare tell me no; my wonderful Derek Morgan and I were up all night making this for you,”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Sadly, not like that. But, we compiled a presentation-slash-video montage for you about what you’ve missed!”

That catches your attention.

“Wha--? How? Penelope where did the footage come from?” you ask, more awake now.

“Well, I may or may not have used security cam footage for a lot of it, but that’s neither here nor there, so, without further ado, I present to you: your life for the past four-ish years!” and with that, she somehow connects her tablet to the TV and you see a picture of the whole team; Penelope then produces a remote from the depths of her purse and then proceeds to the next slide.

Which is a photo of you. And Aaron. Standing by the coffee machine in the office and smiling at each other, clearly unaware that the moment was being documented. The image is embellished with what must be close to fifty moving, sparkly hearts, obviously done by Garcia.

“First thing’s first,” she starts with a flourish. “Your husband!” and as if on cue, Aaron walks into the room, cup of coffee in hand. Much to your surprise, Aaron just rounds your bed to sit in the same chair you assume he fell asleep in, watching the screen.

“What is happening,” you say softly to yourself, looking from Aaron to Garcia and back.

“The doctor said photos and videos might help restore your memory, so who better to put something together than Garcia?” Hotch answers dryly, a small smile flashing across his face. “The rest of the team should be here shortly,” he says directly to Garcia.

“Oh good. I always work better with an audience,” she replies as you continue to process just what the hell is happening since you woke up approximately five minutes ago.

Within a few minutes, your hospital room is overrun with the rest of the team. Sitting, standing, leaning wherever they can find the space to view Penelope’s presentation with you in the middle of it all.

“Don’t you people have jobs?” you grumble.

“C’mon, Princess. Who better to help you remember the last few years than us?” Derek says with a cheeky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

You turn your gaze to Aaron and find that he’s already looking at you in concern.

“If you really don’t want all of us here we can leave,” he says just loud enough for you to hear.

“I just…” you take a moment to try and collect your thoughts. “I guess I just don’t know how to feel about all of this, but you’re all here so— “

“So here we go!” Penelope cheerfully finishes your sentence before turning back to the screen. “As I was saying before, part one of Operation Get Y/N’s Memories Back is all about—drumroll please—our very own Unit Chief, a.k.a. Hotch, a.k.a. loving husband to our very own Agent Y/L/N.”

With a shake of your head, purposefully ignoring the way Derek and Emily are whooping and whistling, you settle in and gesture for Penelope to continue. God, let’s hope this works.

---

It doesn’t work.

Fuck.

Three almost four hours later and nothing has changed for you. However, it’s a lovely opportunity for some team bonding and creating new memories, but you’re still disappointed. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Penelope did a wonderful job of pulling together a presentation-slash-video montage of your life, complete with titles such as ‘Your lovely husband,’ ‘The Miraculous Life, Death, and Subsequent Resurrection of Emily Prentiss,’ and even ‘Badass BAU Babies,’ which was a collection of team photos and news clips of cases you guys had closed in the past few years.

The whole team had gotten a kick out of each section, especially the last one, as Penelope had spared no one in her quest to help your memory; ugly selfies sent in the BAU group chat, embarrassing footage of you tripping up (and down) the stairs to the bullpen—courtesy of the security cameras, Reid doing physics magic and narrowly missing Rossi’s coffee cup, it was all there. But nothing worked, there was no magical ah ha moment where everything came rushing back. If anything, it really was like watching a movie; it didn’t feel like you were the one is all of these clips and photos. Not even Reid’s commentary made you feel any closer than before to recovering your memories.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Penelope had a veritable stockpile of photos of you and Aaron, ranging from the office, to cases, to the occasional night out with the team. Your engagement announcement, wedding photos, freakin’ everything on the two of you and yet, nothing seemed to make a difference to your brain.

The photo on the screen was one of you and Aaron on a case. You were tucked under his arm, snowflakes visible in your hair and his as you look up and laugh at something he said while he just smiles gently down at you. Penelope had put hearts over both your eyes.

“Actual heart eyes! I had to! You guys are so cute!” she basically squealed when the photo came up.

“What did I tell you,” Rossi said teasingly, “Yearning.”

Prentiss and Morgan hadn’t stopped laughing for this entire segment, with JJ and Reid occasionally joining in if there was something exceptionally ridiculous Penelope had included, like fucking heart eyes.

A hand covering your own makes you realize you had spaced out, and you look down to see that it’s Aaron’s hand, wedding band catching the light.

“Anything, Sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, carefully watching your face.

You shake your head. “It’s like it’s someone else’s life, but I know it’s mine; you’ve told me it’s mine, there’s photographic evidence that it’s mine!” you say in a huff. “It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine,” you whisper, voice breaking at the end. Tears gather in your eyes and you bite your lip to stop it from shaking as you desperately try and control your overwhelming emotions. You can hear the team in the background, strategizing new ways to help you, but Aaron’s face hovers in front of your own, drawing your attention.

“It’s okay,” he says lightly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“No, it’s not,” you insist as a few tears make their way down your face. “It’s not, Aaron. What if this is it? What if I just don’t get my memories back?”

Letting out a long sigh, Aaron raises your hand to his lips and kisses your palm before folding your hand into his.

“You will. I know you will,” he says with such conviction you might just believe him if it weren’t for the way he rapidly blinks to keep his own tears at bay.

“Yeah, Princess.” Morgan chimes in from somewhere across the room. “We’ll figure this out, you know we will.”

And with that, you see something click into place in Aaron’s eyes and suddenly, he’s looking at you in such a way that your heart picks up—thanks, heart monitor.

“Aaron…?” you ask cautiously.

“Princess,” he says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You only have time to raise an eyebrow at him before—

Oh.

Kissing Aaron Hotchner is something you could definitely get used to. His hand comes up to cradle your face as he gently moves his lips against yours. You sigh and can feel his smile against your mouth before he’s tugging your face closer, tilting your head just so and—

There.

It’s like opening a window to let in a breeze. Soft and sure, filling the space in a way that’s all-encompassing without being suffocating.

Like snowflakes falling and settling on his black jacket, like Aaron down on one knee sliding your engagement ring on your finger while you smile so much it feels like your face will break. It’s leaving cups of coffee on his desk during late nights in the office. It’s playing soccer with Jack as Aaron smiles and cheers both of you on. It’s being in bed late at night, falling asleep in the comfort provided by the man you love. Your wedding vows, promising to love him forever.

And you know.

With a gasp, you pull Aaron closer, kiss him deeper, harder, moving your lips more frantically against his. I remember I remember I remember and you think he gets it because he pulls back and looks at you with so much hope it almost breaks your heart.

“When I said I’d love you forever, Aaron Hotchner, I meant it.”

And his face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen as he laughs in disbelief before capturing your lips with his again, returning the urgency you had kissed him with just moments ago.

Someone clears their throat and you pull apart, smiles obvious on both your faces as you turn to the team who are looking somewhat confused.

“Would you mind enlightening us as to why you two are suddenly acting like teenagers?” Rossi asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Aaron starts, grinning in your direction, “It would seem that— “

“Nuh uh. No way,” Derek interrupts him. “Are you seriously about to say that you kissed her and she magically remembered?”

You can’t help but laugh at his disbelief because what the hell and nod, unable to speak through the giddiness overtaking your body. You remember.

“Ohmygod! You guys!!” Penelope squeals before launching herself into your arms for a hug which she promptly pulls Aaron into as well; he doesn’t protest.

“What made you do that, Hotch?” Reid asks curiously once Penelope has let you and Aaron go. “Did you know it would work?”

“Princess,” Aaron says with a nod towards Morgan. “In Jack’s storybooks, a kiss always wakes the Princess so she and her prince can live happily ever after.”

Okay that’s adorable and you can’t help but aww with the rest of the team at Aaron’s confession.

“Happily ever after, huh?” you say, tugging on his hand. “Who knew you were such a sap, Hotchner?”

Rolling his eyes, Aaron just smiles. “Wasn’t it obvious from Garcia’s presentation? I’ve been in love with you forever, Sweetheart. And besides, it worked, didn’t it?” he says with a smug smile.

You pull him down for a short kiss before moving back just enough to murmur “My Prince Charming.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” you turn to see Morgan shaking his head. “A literal fuckin’ fairytale,” and then he’s laughing and the whole team, you and Aaron included, are laughing with him because yeah this is pretty surreal.

“I can’t believe you thought I was a ghost!” Emily says once the laughter has died down, her arms crossed in mock-anger.

“Can you blame me?” you retort. “The last thing I remember was burying you and suddenly you’re here? Nope. No way. Ghost. Only explanation.”

“I have to say, Y/L/N, I’m glad you’re back, if only to stop Aaron’s sad puppy-dog eyes every time you called him ‘Hotch,’” Rossi shakes his head. “I don’t know how much more yearning I could take.”

“Hey! Be nice,” JJ admonishes, swatting Rossi’s shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah guys,” you echo. “Be nice! Don’t think I forgot you two,” you say, leveling Morgan and Prentiss with glares, “and all your laughter when I couldn’t remember that my husband and I were married!”

“Oh c’mon, Princess,” Morgan groans. “It was pretty funny. You were trying so hard not to look completely in love with your husband.”

“In my defense,” you start, “I didn’t know that you guys already knew how much I love Aaron, so excuse me for trying to hide my love,” you say with a sniff.

“Well, it was pretty obvious. Whenever you looked at him or he grabbed your hand, the heart monitor would register an increase in your heart rate by—” Reid starts to ramble but your laughter cuts him off.

“I get it, I get it,” you continue through your laughter. “I’m very in love with Aaron, even when I think it’s a secret, but as Penelope’s presentation so eloquently demonstrated, I’m not subtle and neither is he.”

Aaron leans over to kiss your cheek as the rest of the team continues into a conversation about Penelope’s presentation and how the hell she collected all those photos and videos in one day.

With the attention no longer on you—for now—you smile at Aaron, who smiles right back. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh, and you can’t help but pull him back closer to you.

“I love you,” you say kissing the back of his hand.

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he replies softly.

Yeah, this is happily ever after.

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

Note

the amount of angst in the post-prison writing you did just gave me massive post-prison dream brainrot and i'm just. sitting here thinking about how sam dealt with the curious looks and glances and having to face what's he's done as a warden. and everyone else's reaction to everything because hey, maybe the prison WAS a torture chamber that nobody deserves to be locked in to be treated like utter trash.

(btw i love your writing and analysis! they give me so much life :DD)

thank you anon!! this universe is ,, Fun ,, im ngl -> have this continuation of it, w/ sapnap and sam!! it’s a bit messy but oh well

(edit: i added these two asks as well bc they fit and i thought it’d be a bit redundant to rewrite this scene lmao -> the implication that dream’s admissions abt exile mightve been the result of ,, torture is. uh. yikes.)

(This one is DARK, please heed the warnings)

TW: PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ABUSE (heavy warning for this one), starvation, toxic relationship, manipulation, references to the prison and exile, c!sam/warden!sam critical, violence, blood, dark themes, emotional distress, child abuse, torture

“Be honest,” Sapnap starts, quiet. “What did you do?”

Sam opens his mouth - hesitates, looks away. He should’ve known that his vague words and half-explanations that had been enough to push away most of the crowd - or at least, postpone the conversation for later - wouldn’t have been nearly enough to convince the man standing in front of him, but a part of him must’ve hoped, anyway. He’s not ready to speak, not ready to admit anything to himself, never mind someone else entirely - but ‘ready’ doesn’t matter, not when Sapnap is right here, waiting.

(He ignores how ‘ready’ didn’t matter for Dream when Sam had gone in, that first time, pick in hand and nothing but questions and rage spinning in an endless cycle in his mind, whirling together into something incomprehensible, insatiable, vicious - he’s not thinking about it.

He can’t think about it.)

“Well?” Sapnap’s voice raises, impatience coloring his tone, and it’s almost enough to draw a chuckle to Sam’s lips - he’d always been a little overeager, not doing well with silence, waiting, even as a kid. It’s part of the reason why he got along with Dream so well, Dream jumping at the chance to spend time with someone that didn’t shut him down for rambling and Sapnap simply excited at the chance to have someone that would join him on his hare-brained schemes instead of dismissing him as a dumb kid- and oh. Right.

The scrunch of his face is the same, Sam realizes, absently, as the expression Sapnap had when he was little; it’s the same crease between his eyebrows, the same slight jut to his bottom lip. Even with a new scar decorating his left jaw and the shadows under his eyes and collection of faint wrinkles belying his stress, he doesn’t look all that different - still looks young, a kid playing dress up in armor too big and too war-torn to belong to him. It’s easy to forget, but even after all the wars they’ve fought, even with all of the combat experience he’s had, Sapnap’s still barely twenty - only a few weeks out of being a teenager.

(He crushes the thought of what that makes Dream - he’s not. Thinking. About. It.)

“Hello? Earth to Sam?” Sapnap snaps his fingers in front of his face, and Sam blinks away the memories, the guilt, boxing it up and filing it neatly away to deal with - later. Never, ideally.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

Only later is now, there’s no escaping this conversation, and Sam. Really doesn’t want to be talking about this, right now. Sapnap fidgets, leaning on his right foot and then his left and then rocking back again - the feeling is mutual, then, but he knows the look in the younger’s eye well enough to know that neither of them are leaving without an explanation leaving Sam’s lips.

(Netherite and iron and smoke, bloodstained pickaxe tipping up a gaunt face, hand reaching around a too-prominent jawline with bruising force - are you going to answer my question, prisoner? Or are we going to have to do this again?

He’s not-

He can’t-)

“I-,” guilt, thick and heavy, circles his throat, chokes the words rising in his mouth. What can he even say? Can words really capture the sweat-slick desperation, the bubbling lava and heat and smoke stealing away all breath and thought, leaving nothing but a humming buzz of rage burning, hissing, begging for release? Can he really describe the endless darkness and weight settling on his shoulders, the hard edges and jagged fear taking anything soft, anything kind? Words swim in the back of his throat, try to reach his teeth, fall short; bloodstained memories haunt the back of his eyelids every time he blinks; there is so much, too much, to say, and yet nothing at all.

How does he even start?

There is no sympathy on Sapnap’s face when Sam looks, but there isn’t any cruelty either, just dark, watching eyes, lips thin and pressed together, jaw clamped shut, tense. Indifference, or a pale imitation of it, meant to hide the mess of his hair, the tremble in his hands, the helpless, desperate thing growing in his pupils. Sam understands and wishes he doesn’t; regrets, and wonders if he has the right, anymore.

“It- started, as an interrogation,” Sam stumbles over his words, stares at his hands because looking at Sapnap’s face will be too much, is too much. “I was angry. The prisoner- Dream- was desperate. That cell-” he shakes his head, remembers obsidian in his hands, remembers tearing away carpet, paintings, plants, remembers leaving the box bareboned, desolate, a cage and nothing more, “It messes with you. Screws with your head. I knew it, he knew it, but I guess we didn’t realize- I guess I didn’t realize-”

(Blood and crunching bone and shrill screams - tell me what you did to him-)

“I needed information. He wasn’t talking. I got- heated, and he laughed, and something- snapped, I guess.”

(I’ll tell you I’m sorry please please sam stop please)

“All I had on me was a pickaxe. He wasn’t talking, I was desperate - angry - I needed to know. I didn’t-”

(I just knew I needed to drag him away, he was ruining everything, he was destroying everything, I just needed him to leave before he brought down the whole damn server with him - the tnt was supposed to be a one time thing)

“It was supposed to be- one time. Was never supposed to happen, at all. But I guess I got mad - for me? For Tommy? I don’t- I don’t know, and it was- easy, you know? Take away the clock, one day. Give him less potatoes the next.”

(It was easy to do it again, I guess, mess with his invitations a little, take some of his stuff. There was nobody around but me and him and he’d ruined so much, he’d messed everything up - I thought that maybe if I took away his armor enough, he wouldn’t be able to go back. He wouldn’t ruin everything.)

“He’d done- so much. He was so awful to Tommy, to everyone- I thought I could prevent that. I thought maybe if I broke him enough, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I renamed the pickaxe Will Breaker, to remind me, to remind him, I don’t know. I-”

Sam laughs, tired, poisonous, ignoring the way Sapnap whispers, stricken, looking at his hands and seeing nothing but red. Dream’s face, bruised, bloody, but glimmering with something almost like satisfaction comes to mind - and oh. Oh.

(Bloodstained teeth twisted in a bitter smile - Sam, I thought I had to.)

He gets it now. He wishes he didn't.

“I thought- ha-” His hand comes up to his face - he’s crying. When did he start crying? ”I thought I had to.”

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cherryyharryy · 4 years ago

Note

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option.

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career.

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength.

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.”

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.”

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!”

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door.

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad.

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive.

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

“How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry.

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

#requests #requested #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #cherryyharryy

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