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fandom-imagines-stories · 2 months ago

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Fire Drill

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 2020

Requested by Anon: Hi can you do one where the reader is pregnant and she comes to visit Hotch at work and when she’s getting ready to leave she trips on the last step and hotch and the team rush to her side and hotch force her to go to the hospital to get checked out

Notes: Okay, I know I don’t do requests, but this just seemed like such a nice break after finishing part one of The In-Betweens S3. I’m not opening requests, but thank you for sending this in because I had fun writing it. I’ve never written for Hotch before, so it was nice to branch out! I hope you like it.

More Criminal Minds: HERE

He hadn’t been expecting you, otherwise he would have told you not to come. It was chaos in the bullpen, FBI and CIA scrambling about to finish wrapping up the case- a rogue agent on a kidnapping spree to get information on his family’s deaths.

Aaron couldn’t help but pity him. The man’s wife and two daughters were killed in a car accident, but the nature of his work made him paranoid enough to convince him of foul play. And, while the CIA had been reluctant to cooperate, the working teams were able to reach a peaceful conclusion, the agent facing trial and the victims sent home to their families and lives.

You were surprised to find the BAU so busy. Of course, your husband hadn’t been allowed to disclose anything about the case, but you suspected it must have been big to require all this manpower.

“Mrs. Hotchner!” A friendly voice called over the commotion.

Agent Jareau’s smiling face appeared from a sea of serious scowls.

“JJ,” you smiled, relieved to finally see someone familiar. “What’s going on, Strauss’s retirement party?”

She laughed and made a face of ‘I wish.’

“Big case. Long story.” She took your hand to lead you through the wall of suits. “Hotch is in his office.”

“I think I see him.” You stood on your tiptoes to get a glimpse into the elevated office but there were just too many people. “Where’s the team?”

JJ laughed and pointed to the conference room. “Hiding.”

Sure enough, you could just spot the lanky form of Dr. Reid standing in front of the board, solving some long and complex equation. Agents Morgan and Prentiss were discussing something about the file in front of them and Dave Rossi looked like he just wanted to go home.

While you watched them, another agent barreled by you, hardly noticing that you were even there, let alone that they’d almost knocked you over. Stumbling back, you reached for something to grab onto.

A hand took hold of yours.

“Careful,” Aaron, despite his cautious tone, gave you a small smile. “It’s a circus in here.”

“So I noticed, Mr. Ringleader,” you beamed, kissing his cheek.

“Is everything okay? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” His eyes flicked down to your middle, worry growing with his words.

You held up a to-go bag with your free hand.

“Lunch emergency. Code red, Agent Hotchner.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.” Keeping hold of your hand, he guided you through the mess to the somewhat quiet refuge of his office. He closed the door behind him, sighing with relief.

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you.”

“I should hope so.” You gave him a mock pout. “You’ve been holed up here for two days. I missed you.”

“I know.” He leaned down, kissing you sweetly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You rustled his hair. “Hence, lunch.” You set the bag of pasta on his desk. “Mariano’s.”

Aaron smiled, leaning his head back with a happy sigh. “You’re a saint.”

“I know.” You took the containers from the bag and placed them on his desk. “The team looks tired.” You handed him a fork.

“It’s been a long few days.” Aaron took on his serious work-voice. He gazed out over the bullpen. There was a tension you knew all too well built up in his shoulders. Like he held the weight of the world on them.

“Seems like it.” Tearing off a piece of garlic bread, you watched him watch the world. He stood there for a while before you gently grabbed his hand. “Aaron.” You brought his hand to your lips. “Eat.”

Like snapping out of a trance, your husband returned to himself, his eyes softening and the hard set of his mouth lifting into a smile.

Aaron moved his chair around his desk to sit beside you rather than across, his leg grazing yours. You passed him the garlic bread.

“So,” you started, popping a piece into your mouth, “anything not super-secret-classified about your day?”

He thought for a moment. “Reid recited three pages of Freud from memory, Garcia continues to scare me with her hacking ability and my beautiful wife brought me lunch.” His leg nudged yours again affectionately. “What about you?”

“Nothing special,” you shrugged. “I just got assigned the Brunner case.”

Aaron coughed, nearly choking on his chicken parm.

“The ADA’s giving it to you?”

Your face broke into a wide, excited smile. You nodded. “She said, and I quote ‘You’re the only one I trust to get that bastard behind bars.’” You beamed.

Aaron set his food aside and pulled you into his arms. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips.

Your husband wasn’t one for PDA, so any exception always made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl.

“I start prep on Monday,” you said as he sat back again. “Then maybe you’ll be the one waiting up for me.” You stole a bite of his meal. “Lot of late nights in my future.”

His excitement slowly morphed into concern.

“Before you say anything, I already spoke with Dr. Brown, and she said I'll be fine as long as I still get plenty of rest.”

“And do you actually plan on getting plenty of rest?”

You raised a brow, teasing, “Are you the pot or the kettle in this scenario?”

He snorted. “Well, honey, I’m not four months pregnant.”

“I could still kick your ass in court and you know it, Agent Hotchner,” you smirked.

“I don’t doubt it.” He picked at his food, seemingly lost in pleasant thought.

You, content that you’d won the potential argument, glanced back out at the office. A harsh tension still hung in the air, the two agencies clearly not thrilled to share their success with the other. Familiar faces emerged from the other room, prompting your question.

“Have you told them yet?”

“Told who what?” Aaron asked, pretending to be more focused on his food than what was on his mind.

You rolled your eyes. “The team. About…” You pointed at your almost-showing belly.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No.”

“You should.” You looked at Reid’s fidgeting hands and Prentiss’s tired frown. “They look like they could use some exciting news.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You may not have been a profiler, but you knew your husband.

Telling them made it real. Real meant the real world. The real world meant danger. Danger meant loss. The longer you could both live in the beautiful, safe, fantasy world, the easier it seemed.

“Aaron-” You started, but were interrupted by an awful shrill mechanical shriek. You grimaced, putting your hands over your ears. “Don’t tell me there’s a fire drill.”

Aaron shook his head, worry settling into his expression.

“Stay close to me.”

You made no argument there. Regretfully abandoning your meals, Aaron kept an arm around you as you reentered the chaos. People were cramming around the staircase doors, shouting and grumbling at each other.

“So much for ‘calm and orderly fashion’,” you muttered.

Aaron gently tugged on your arm. “This way.”

One of the doors had a shorter line, but only slightly. By the time you made it through the door, the stairwell was packed with people hurrying down, paying no attention to the people around them. At some point, Aaron lost hold of your hand.

“Y/N?” He called out.

That’s when he saw you fall.

You didn't even see who ran into you. They just rammed into you from the side, pushing their way down the stairs. Your foot caught on the wall, your arms reeling for something to grab onto, but unlike last time, you weren’t fast enough. You tumbled forward. The people in front of you kept moving, leaving a set of hard stone stairs to break your fall.

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled.

You hit the ground and were pretty sure someone stepped on you. Catching yourself with your left hand, you felt a sudden, painful snap. You bit back the scream of pain, but it escaped nonetheless.

“Everybody move!” Aaron’s commanding, panicked voice took over the stairwell, joined by other voices.

“Mrs. Hotchner, are you okay?” Dr. Reid appeared in front of you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It’s my wrist,” you winced, trying to move your fingers. “But I think I’m okay.”

Someone lifted you up.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Aaron said. His dark eyes were wide and frantic and focused on you.

Morgan rushed by. “I’ll get the car.”

“Aaron, I’m okay,” you said again, but he ignored you.

“Prentiss, find out what’s going on,” he ordered. “There shouldn’t be a drill.” He feared the worst. This was planned. Someone was waiting outside to gun everyone down. Someone was after you.

“On it.” She hurried off as well.

“I didn’t get a chance to examine it fully, but it looks like it might be broken,” Reid added.

“Aaron-”

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke more to himself than to you. “You’ll be okay.”

You were, in fact, fine. A broken wrist, sure, but all together could have been worse. But then came his second concern. One you could clearly see on his face as he spoke to the doctor.

“You really freaked him out,” Agent Prentiss said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

“I told him everything was fine,” you sighed, laying a hand over your middle. You didn’t know how, but you could just tell everything was alright. It had to be. But he needed to be sure. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss. For getting to the bottom of it all.”

“Please, call me Emily.” She smiled. “He must have thought it was something planned and sinister.”

Someone had put a fork in the microwave. Apparently, agents are definitely not geniuses. Except for Dr. Reid, of course.

You laughed. “The dangers of your job, huh?”

She shrugged.

A moment passed.

“So are you going to tell everyone?” She blurted.

Your mouth fell open.

Emily raised a brow. “It isn’t hard to guess by the way he looked at you. And you haven’t taken your arms off your stomach since you got here.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms fully. “Profilers.”

She laughed and put a hand on yours. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Aaron walked into the room with the seriousness he usually reserved for cases. But when he looked at you, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Brown said everything is fine.”

“I told you.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but for a second you were terrified. But seeing him happy and relieved made it all go away.

He was at your side in seconds, kissing the top of your head.

“You thought Brunner was after me, didn’t you?” You asked, realizing why he’d been so interested in the alarm.

“It crossed my mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you gripped his tie and pulled his lips to yours. “He’s going to have to try harder than a spoon in the microwave.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed him again. “It’s a little funny.”

The whole team was waiting, each looking more worried than the last.

“Guys, I didn’t get shot,” you teased. You held up the cast on your arm for emphasis.

“We know.” Reid gulped, fidgeting with his sleeve. “You just seemed to fall pretty hard and-”

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” JJ said.

You peered at each of them and put your good hand on your hip.

“Alright, how many of you know?”

The pretend confusion on their faces told you all you needed. You cast an exasperated look at your husband.

“Damn profilers.”

The group laughed. Dave gave you a hug and Morgan shook Aaron’s hand.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Hotchner.” Dr. Reid said, smiling through his usual timidness. He turned to Hotch. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Reid,” Aaron said. The two embraced, the sight warming your heart.

You wrapped your arms around your husband. Aaron kissed your temple.

And you would be okay.

#criminal minds imagines #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #thomas gibson

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hoshifighting · 3 months ago

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woozi as a sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar baby x sugar mommy relationship, recording laber ceo!reader, producer!jihoon, smut, fingering, mention of sex toys & stuff, fucking in front of a window, in your office, in his studio, penetrative sex, marriage, and fanting. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

jihoon was used to the struggle—the late nights in the studio, the endless hours tweaking every sound until it was perfect, and the constant pressure of making hits that never seemed to pay off the way they should. the old CEO made sure of that, always withholding what was owed, dangling the promise of success just out of reach, the guy constantly delayed salaries and left jihoon hanging when the songs he produced didn’t return the money.

but when the label got sold, everything changed, and that’s when you came into the picture.

he didn’t expect you to be any different at first, just another high-powered executive who wouldn’t care about the little guys.

then, one day, while leaving his studio for lunch, he saw you. high heels, a well-tailored dress, and a box in hand, walking toward the building’s garage. he’d never seen you before, but with how polished you looked, he assumed you were an executive from the building next door.

as the elevator doors opened, you stepped in, balancing the box awkwardly. jihoon, always one to lend a hand, offered to help. “need a hand with that?”

you glanced at him, considering for a moment before nodding. “thanks. these heels aren’t exactly helpful.”

he joined you in the elevator, the silence between you comfortable, but his mind was racing with curiosity. as you both reached the garage, he noticed you leading him towards a car that made his heart skip a beat—a fucking mclaren. he didn’t even know people actually drove those in real life, let alone parked them in this garage.

he put the box in the trunk, which was, unsurprisingly, really fucking small. as he stepped back, you smiled at him, a smile that seemed out of place in this concrete underground. “thank you, jihoon.”

his eyes widened. “y-you know me?” he stammered, pointing at himself like an idiot.

you nodded, your expression calm. “yes, i’m new here, but i do know you.”

he nodded back, still processing. “which department are you in?”

you extended your hand, and he shook it, your grip firm, confident. “i’m the new ceo.”

for a moment, jihoon just stood there, staring at you. the new ceo? no fucking way. his brain scrambled to process the information. you, the ceo? the woman who looked like you stepped off the pages of some high-fashion magazine, driving a car that cost more than his entire apartment building?

“i—uh—” he fumbled for words, his usual composure slipping for the first time in a long while. “i didn’t expect... i mean, you...”

you raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “didn’t expect the ceo to be a woman?”

“no, not that!” he rushed to correct himself, heat rising to his face. “i just... didn’t expect someone like you.”

“someone like me?” you echoed, a hint of a challenge in your voice.

“yeah, someone who... actually talks to people and doesn’t act like an asshole,” he finished, his voice quieter, as if testing the waters.

you laughed then, a sound that echoed in the empty garage. “well, let’s just say i have a different approach.”

he nodded, still in a bit of shock. “i can see that.”

“i look forward to working with you, jihoon,” you said, stepping closer, and for a moment, he felt the weight of your gaze, like you were seeing right through him. “i’ve heard a lot about your work.”

“all good things, i hope,” he replied, trying to regain some semblance of cool.

“very good things,” you confirmed, your voice dropping just slightly, enough to make him swallow hard.

you turned to get into your car, and jihoon stood there, still trying to wrap his head around everything. before you drove off, you rolled down the window and called out, “and jihoon?”

“yeah?”

“don’t let the last ceo’s bullshit get to you. you’re worth more than that.”

and you made sure jihoon knew that. almost every day, he’d find a new box waiting in front of his studio. first, it was new producing equipment, then a sleek electric guitar, followed by expensive microphones, headphones, and even a whole computer setup. within a week or two—despite him appearing almost on his knees, begging you to stop showering him with such expensive things—his entire studio was completely renovated.

but you weren't stopping there. if you liked him this much, why not give him a whole new studio? you were already planning to move the company to a bigger, more luxurious building, so why not make sure jihoon’s space matched his talent? when you saw how happy it made him, you realized you were willing to give him anything.

soon, the presents started getting more personal. a high-end watch here, a guitar that had once belonged to a famous musician—a relic he could hardly believe was his. sometimes, you’d send something cute like a teddy bear with Swarovski crystals for eyes.

or when you surprised him with a vip ticket to see his favorite artist—that one was a real game-changer. the joy in his eyes when he got to meet them was unmatched, and in the middle of that fan meeting, with everyone around, he’d grabbed you and kissed you right on the mouth, too caught up in the moment to care. it was instinctual, the way his lips found yours, and it left you stunned, right in the middle of all those people.

later, when you were alone, you asked for another kiss, just to see if it was a fluke. just to see what he’d do, to test if his cold walls would melt. and they did. oh, they did.

he didn’t just kiss you. he pulled you close, his lips pressing against yours with an intensity that had you gasping into his mouth. his hands, usually so precise and controlled in the studio, roamed over your body with an urgency that made your skin tingle.

“you like spoiling me, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. before you could respond, one of his hands slipped under your skirt, fingers brushing against your already wet panties. “i should thank you properly.”

he moved you back until you hit the edge of the desk, his hands steadying you as he pulled you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. he kissed you deeper, harder, and you could feel the desire rolling off him in waves.

“jihoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as he slid one finger inside you, his touch skilled, confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he added another finger, stretching you, his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you arch into him.

you didn’t even care about the office door or the fact that anyone could walk in. all you could focus on was him—his fingers working you over, bringing you right to the edge. he leaned in, kissing along your neck, your pulse quickening under his lips as he whispered, “let me take care of you, yeah?”

you nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to finger you, the pleasure building until it was almost unbearable. his free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as you rocked against him, chasing the release that was so close you could taste it.

“jihoon, please,” you gasped, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more, needing him.

with one last kiss, he pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss, but he was already undoing his pants, his eyes locked on yours. “jump up,” he ordered, his voice rough, full of need.

you didn’t hesitate, letting him guide you as you jumped, your legs wrapping around him again as he positioned himself. he didn’t tease, didn’t make you wait. he pushed inside you with one smooth thrust, filling you completely, and the sensation made you both groan.

his hands were firm on your hips, holding you steady as he started to move, his pace hard and fast, like he couldn’t get enough. each thrust sent a shock of pleasure through you, and you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning his name like a prayer.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he drove into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that had you seeing stars.

“jihoon,” you whimpered, your voice high and needy, and he groaned in response, his pace quickening, his grip on you tightening as he chased his own release.

he was relentless, his hips moving in that perfect rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of you with an assertiveness that left you breathless. you could feel yourself unraveling, the pleasure building until you were right on the edge, teetering, ready to falll.

“come for me,” he whispered, his voice rough, and that was all it took. with one final thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you trembling in his arms, your cries muffled against his neck.

jihoon followed right after, his grip on you almost bruising as he came, buried deep inside you, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged and uneven.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “maybe we should do this more often.”

so often, so fucking often, that you couldn’t tell anymore if it was a habit or something more—an obsession, maybe. your office and his studio, the places where this all started, now felt too tame, too boring to fuck in. jihoon had to be more creative, and so did you.

jihoon made sure to fuck you in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of whatever high-rise hotel you were staying in, the city lights sprawling out beneath you as he thrust into you from behind. the last time, some guest from the hotel across the way didn’t appreciate the show, but honestly? you couldn’t have cared less. not with the way jihoon’s hands gripped your hips, his breath hot on your neck, your moans muffled against the glass.

at every award show, he always made sure to dedicate his success to you first. you, who after a long day of work, would head to his studio, where he’d be waiting. there, he’d produce tracks with one hand on the mouse and the other busy finger-fucking you, fast and relentless, as you sat on his lap, struggling to stay composed.

it became a tradition for the two of you to explore sex shops in different countries. you’d pick out new types of condoms, wild flavors, and textures neither of you had seen before. aphrodisiac potions that had the two of you almost ripping each other apart, desperate to feel more, to push further. there were always those little surprises, like thai sex toys that were so intense you couldn’t even look at them without feeling your knees go weak. jihoon loved trying out new things with you, always pushing the boundaries, always finding new ways to make you both lose control.

and you pampered him, oh, how you loved to spoil him. designer clothes, always checking that they wouldn’t irritate his sensitive skin. you introduced him to new experiences all around the world, things he never even knew he wanted until you made it happen. and when you moved his family to a better house, just down the street from where the two of you lived, it felt like you were finally giving him everything he deserved.

you’d met his family a couple of times—sweet people who clearly adored him, and you, by extension. but on the third visit, something changed.

maybe it was the way his mother beamed at you, or the way his father patted your back with such warmth. or maybe it was just the way jihoon looked at you, like you hung the stars just for him. you didn’t even think, you just knew you had to ask.

“will you marry me?”

for a second, everything was silent. jihoon froze, the piece of kimchi still hanging halfway to his mouth. you saw the color drain from his face, his eyes widening like you just told him aliens had landed in the backyard.

“y-you—what?”

you wondered if you’d broken him. then, his knees buckled, and before anyone could react, he was on the floor, out cold.

“jihoon!”

his family already there, fanning him with whatever they could find, pouring water into his mouth like he was a dehydrated athlete at halftime.

“jihoon, wake up!” his mother shouted, disbelief in her voice. “this is not the time to faint!”

“somebody get him water!” his dad shouted, even though he was already holding the glass right in front of jihoon’s face.

“what did you do to him?!” his cousin accused, though you could see the slight amusement in her eyes.

“i just asked him to marry me!” you defended.

jihoon’s father just laughed, shaking his head. “i knew this would happen.”

finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, jihoon’s eyes fluttered open. he looked around at all the concerned faces, then up at you.

“i’m marrying you!” jihoon suddenly gasped, sitting up so quickly that you nearly toppled over. his eyes were wide, pure joy. “yes, i’ll marry you!”

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novemberheart · 4 months ago

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Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

{overview} You need someplace to stay- and fast. Luckily your aunt Kate knows the perfect place for you. Only problem is you’ll have four other roommates, who are all dating each other?

{warnings} polyamory/poly141 x fem reader, chapter story, inaccuracies all around, cursing, future smut and suggestive language, reader is inexperienced when it comes to relationships but age is not specified, appearance of reader not specified, some slow burns, some quick burns, angst, drama

“John, when you have a moment I’d like to speak to you,” Laswell requested, sticking her head into the Captain's office. A few playful gasps and ‘what’d you do now’ spread through his office. With a groan he pulled his heavy body to its feet, the weight of the world on his shoulders. His gaze quickly caught Simon’s who gave him a knowing stare. John followed Laswell to her office- which was conveniently situated across from his. “I have a favor.” She continued, plopping a pile of folders onto her already crowded desk.

Cue another grown.

“We just got back, Kate. The boys have hardly slept. Kyle has lost about ten pounds. Simon is still getting over a knife to the shoulder”-

“Calm down mother hen.” Laswell interrupted. John tsked, but realized his own antics were bordering on the tease. “You don’t have to do anything.” She paused for a moment. “Well, you almost have to do nothing.”

The Captain raised his eyebrow.

“I have a niece who needs a place to stay. You still have that empty bedroom right?”

His first instinct is to lie. The last thing he and the boys needed was an interloper- a pest in their home. They spend so much time hiding that the thought of doing it in their home, a place that is decorated so thoroughly with each of them sounds almost torturous.

“Please don’t lie, John,” Kate spoke up. “She a good girl. She’s trying to move up in her job but it’s taking some time. The only places she can afford are in rough neighborhoods and quite frankly I’m worried for her. So is her mother because she calls me about twice a day to check on her.” An airy laugh left Kate, which she quickly shook off. “I go back to the States in two weeks and I would really like to have her set up and safe before I leave. It’s only temporary- two months at the most till she can get a down payment on an apartment.”

“I don’t know how the boy’ll feel about it.” Price finally spoke. Kate nodded her head in understanding.

“She’s a modern woman if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kate said slowly.

“How about we meet her first? Give us a few days to adjust being back home, then maybe we can go out for lunch or something. If the boys’ll agree on it.” John offered. Kate sighed, hoping this meeting would’ve resulted in a bit more of a clear outcome. Nevertheless, she nodded her head, as quiet agreement escaped her lips.

“Deal.”

“Anything important?” Simon hummed as the Captain stepped back through the door.

“Yes actually and it involves all of us.” At this, the boys quickly tossed the things they were working on, onto the coffee table. John cleared his throat, taking a seat next to Simon. It was a small noise- one that John wasn’t even aware he had made, yet it caused each of their backs to straighten at the underlying authority present in the small act. “Kate was hoping her niece could stay with us for a while, two months at the most, while she looks for a place to live.” John looked around the room, trying to get a grasp as to what they were thinking. ‘Unreadable’ was the first thing that came to mind. Suddenly Johnnys' lips curled up into a smirk.

“You have a picture?” The Scotsman questioned.

“No, mate.” Kyle scolded, before the rest could roll their eyes. “Not everyone was put on this earth to be eye candy for ya.’”

“You were.” Johnny shot back without missing a beat. Kyle nearly smiled but pulled his lips into a tight line, his knee nudging Johnny.

“Why does she need to leave?” Kyle asked. Always the voice of reason.

“Safety reasons. Lives in a bad area.” John explained. That softened them. “I suggested we meet her first, she’ll probably put her best foot forward- but we should be able to tell if she’d be a good fit or not.”

“I think we should just give ‘er the keys.” Johnny piqued up again.

“Oh really.” Simon muttered from across the coffee table.

“Yeah. I mean we risk our lives for strangers everyday out there. At least with this, we could help someone out without having to do much.”

“You just want a date Mactavish.” Kyle sighed from next to him, sliding down in his seat. The corner of John’s eyes lifted in a slight smile before he stood up and returned to his desk.

“I’ll have Laswell send her our address, so we can meet her.”

“So it is a date.” Johnny chirped.

If it wasn’t for the checkpoint to get in you wouldn’t have known it was military housing. Kate drove you both in. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel feeding off of your own nerves. Never ending rows of brick houses lined both sides of the street. There were lots of trees- which you were happy about. The houses varied in size from small townhouses to big houses with fenced-in backyards. One street even led down to a nice apartment building.

“I’ve driven past here before and never knew all these houses were back here.” You broke the silence.

“The trees hide them well- and the fog.” She smiled, not taking her eyes off the street. Each house was decorated with various flags out front- most of them being a Union Jack. She finally turned down a street, one that seemed narrower than the others. There were no houses across the street, just a large green field. A family and their dog playing in the neatly trimmed grass. The trees surrounding the area made the air fresh and your lungs felt lighter with every deep breath. Even though it wasn’t raining your nose could imagine the smell of wet earth. You shut the car door.

“There’s a nice walking path down that way.” Kate nodded her head towards the tree line. You followed her up onto the sidewalk, wondering which house she was going to head towards. It was the third one from the end. It looked like all the others but something set it apart. The outside of the house was spotless, like each brick had been hand scrubbed. The bushes and trees were neatly trimmed and there were even some potted plants you could see from on the porch.

You inspected each car in the driveway. Two trucks, one a shiny black, so large you could see it no matter where you stood. The second truck looked more like a fixer upper. It was older, painted a nice brown and beige- well loved. Behind the black truck was a just as sleek, black, shiny muscle car, that you’re sure the neighbors love hearing in the early mornings. Next to it was a banged-up, red, 4-runner geared up like it was ready to take off into the mountains at the drop of a hat.

You wondered how reflective each car was of each man.

Kate rang the doorbell. “Don’t worry.” She whispered to you over her shoulder. You were in fact worried. Very worried. It felt like all of your job interviews and presentations rolled into one. Your heartbeat only had the chance to beat 15 times before the door opened. Your insides shriveled as one of your worst fears came to light.

He was handsome- very handsome. Boarding on pretty.

“Kyle.” Laswell greeted, at which his lips perked up into a smile.

“Calling you Kate feels too informal.” He admitted. He opened the door further standing to the side to allow you both the enter. You had yet to move from your hiding spot behind Kate.

“Then don’t.” She chuckled. His head dodged around Kate to finally get a glimpse of you. His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly whipped it back on.

Your brain kicked into gear and you extended your hand with a soft introduction.

“Nice to meet you, love.” He smiled warmly taking your hand into his. He was warm and his hand held no paranoid shakes like yours.

You followed Kate into the entryway. It was plain, with an expensive-looking wooden dresser with a bowl filled with various keys and random bolts. ‘Junk bowl’ you thought mindlessly. Boots and shoes were lined neatly against the wall, making sure to avoid the rug leading into the living area. Kyle closed the door behind you.

Your eyes racked up and down his form. You knew he would be fit for his line of work, but you didn’t picture someone so carefully carved out of marble.

“Do I need to take off my shoes?” You questioned.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. We usually just keep our work boots here.” He explained. He extended his arm forward, silently guiding you further into the house. Just through the entryway was another hallway and the stairs, but Kate led you to the left into the living area.

The house was beautiful. It was a mismatch of styles but they all somehow charmingly complimented each other. The furniture was rustic. Brown leather couches, chairs, and everything from the TV stand to the coffee table was constructed from wood. The decor was more modern- but not in a cold grey and white way. There were lots of dark greens and blues. Plants were scattered around the home, making the air inside just as fresh as outside. Various pictures hung up on the wall all sketched from charcoal. You weren’t close enough to see what they were about.

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered over your shoulder. It was a home. It’s been a long time since you’ve got to experience one.

“Thanks. Cap’ is picky about where he sits so he picks out all the sitting furniture. Simon woodworks in his free time so he built almost everything you see here. ‘Tavish is the artist.” He explained, his tender gaze following yours as he took in his own home. He could feel his chest swell.

“You must be the green thumb?” You hummed. The quirk on his lips remained as he nodded his head.

“And the one who makes everything look nice.” He muttered, sending a small wink your way. “Just through the arch is the kitchen.” Kyle continued, taking the lead away from Kate. When you spoke to Kate it sounded as though this was just a meeting. Yet the way Kyle spoke and smiled at you made you feel as though you had already been voted in.

The kitchen was nice. Dark oak cabinets pushed up against the wall with light granite countertops. There was a small island with just enough room for two stools and a sink. It was clean- like the rest of the house. Everything had a place, even the fruit bowl on the counter and the tea kettle on the stovetop. Kyle turned to the right.

“And just across the hall we have the dinning room.” He lit up a bit as he crossed the hall into the room. Two men were sitting at the table. Both big and commanding in size.

“Hi.” You spoke first- a trained reaction.

“Hey, Bonnie!” You nearly jumped again at the enthusiasm. He was sitting closest to you and he reached for your hand before you could hold it out for a greeting. “John Mactavish- but you can call me Johnny.” You wondered if every man in this house had overwhelming smiles.

“Nice to meet you.” You returned his greeting with a repeat of your name. He plopped back down in his seat. The man next to him stood up. Something about him made you want to know him. He seems like the sort of person you go to when you need a shoulder to lean on . His movements were precise and swift, yet the crinkles around his eyes made your shoulders relax.

“John Price. Very nice to meet you.” It was polite and warm just like him. Your hand itched to hold his and you were disappointed when he didn’t extend it. So you extended yours. He quickly took it, his hands as calloused and as warm as you thought they’d be.

“Nice to meet you too.” You added. You quickly let go- hoping you weren’t too sweaty.

“Sit please.” He requested, gesturing to the seats across from him.

“Hello everyone.” Kate gruffed from behind you. The two men’s eyes widened quickly sputtering out an apology for ignoring her. With a playful huff, she rolled her eyes taking a seat next to you.

“We have some pastries if you want, there’s also drinks in the fridge,” John said, nodding his head towards the plate in the center of the table.

“We wouldn’t mind throwing on the kettle either,” Kyle added, sitting at the head of the table.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Kate quickly took them up on the offer grabbing something with blueberries. You grabbed a scone with the most icing. “Good.” Kate hummed between bites.

“Corner shop just outside base.” Johnny chirped. You wondered for a moment if they had bought these just for you. Well maybe not for you to eat- but maybe so you’d perceive them as caring? Or put together? You shook the thought out of your head, taking a bite of the scone. It was softer than it looked and had hint of orange. Your eyes lifted up from the scone. Each man was staring at you- not expectantly, but like one would look at zebras at the zoo. With slight wonder, but mostly curiosity. They were accessing you and you couldn’t blame them. You were asking a lot from them.

“I would like to tell you why I need to leave my apartment.” You offered, setting the scone down on a napkin. They shifted in their seats- sitting at attention. “I know this is a big ask and I would just like to say I would absolutely be happy to pay some utility or some other expense. I don’t want you to think I’m mooching off of you.”

“Don’t need to worry about that.” John spoke, quickly putting an end to any concern you have. You took a deep breath, your eyes drifting over to Johnny. His face was serious now, but his smile lines remained. You couldn’t imagine smiling so much that it would be etched into your skin. You breathed out.

“A few nights ago my apartment was broken into, during the night while I was at home.” Kyle winced, and Johnny stiffened. John remained the same. “Luckily I had bear spray and a crowbar.” You chuckled despite the heaviness in the air. “Nothing happened and they ran out fairly fast once I started screaming and swinging the crowbar around- but I just don’t feel safe anymore.”

“Of course.” John affirmed after you. “I’m happy you were able to react. Sometimes in those situations, people freeze.”

It was small but it was the validation you needed to hear.

“Thank you.” You said softly. “This wasn’t the first time it had happened. My place has been broken into two other times, this was just the first time it had happened while I was home. I’ve gone to the police but they never follow through. On top of that when I come home it’s usually dark and I’m almost surprised when I make it home.” Your head turned towards Laswell who nodded at you to go on. You hoped they didn’t think you were a baby. People are going through hard times all over the world. What makes you so special that you should be free from it? These men had no doubt been exposed to horrible acts, things you don’t think you could cope with hearing let alone experiencing. They’re probably thinking how entitled you are. How you should buck up and stop playing victim. You shook yourself out of your thoughts. “I‘ve been saving money for a few months but it still not enough. If I could just have about a month’s paycheck that would put me at my goal. I know it’s a big ask, but it’ll be like I’m not even here, I promise. I’m a rather boring person, unfortunately.”

They chuckled at that.

“Well, Sweetheart. I think you just landed yourself a bedroom.”

Hi friends I hope you liked this! I have 5 more chapters scheduled to post so I won't leave you hanging! Don't be afraid to say hi or come visit me on my page!

The next chapter will be posted in three days! 🤎

See you at the next chapter!

#novemberheart #birdsofafeathercod #poly141 #poly141 x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #captain john price x female reader #price x reader #john price #soap x you #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #johnny soap mactavish #kate laswell #poly141 x fem reader

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wraithdance · 4 months ago

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Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Pairing: Johnny x Avoidant!reader | eventual Ghoap x Avoidant!reader Note: AFAB!Reader, No physical description but reader has background story, no y/n use or gender terms for reader, Reader is LGBT (Bisexual) Content warning: Mature | brief mentions of childhood trauma, avoidant personality, therapy and allusions to mental health issues, passive thoughts of death

Prologue: Foxy Leaves

You told your new therapist that you like putting things into categories because it was fun.

It was half a lie, minuscule really and not enough to be of consequence. You suppose you could have been honest and said the process of grouping things made the endless dread you lived in just a little bit easier.

But you didn’t really like the pitying look Dr. Sanchez gave you when she went over your intake questionnaire. She’d looked down her glasses while you numbly repeated the same spiel about ‘what brings you to cognitive therapy’ that you’d been giving for the last decade.

You’d google her practice on your lunch break scrolling through the reviews and stuffing the last of your sandwich in your cheeks. In your car before the first session you silently prayed to the empty space that this time you could stick with her long enough to fix you.

You doubt it though because her bob bounces as she nods to your explanation of ‘The Chasm’ and how it came to be. The way that it bounces as she hums, being sure to signify her active listening. It really pisses you off.

The familiar sense of despair boils hot when you realize that even though this is an unfamiliar office half way across from town, she’s giving you the look. The one of interest, like she wants to crack open your skull and observe your chaotic wiring in hopes to understand what your fucking problem is.

It’s the same one every other therapist has given you since you were old enough to inevitably stop showing up to mandatory sessions without consequence.

It’s so habitually intolerable that you have a 'Therapist breakup’ text in your notes draft on your phone. It's simple, clinical, contains something vague about not thinking you were compatible as a client. It’s usually enough to keep them from doing a wellness check (or worse a call to your emergency contact.)

When you’re done talking, Dr. Sanchez reaches for your hand in some gratuitous act of extending comfort. Her cold fingers and the sensation of her half rubbed in hand cream, makes you want to vomit. It must not show on your face because she keeps talking and squeezing your hand.

“I think that it’s brave of you to come in and I think we can work on some of your goals.” She pauses accessing you before she says the thing that signs the death of your therapeutic relationship.

“Do you also want to work on mending the relationship with your parents?”

You ignore the receptionist when she asks if you want to make a follow up appointment. You’re combing through your drafts to find the breakup text when you think that you’re glad you lied about the category thing. Your control issues are yours, precious and responsible for your ability to focus on anything but the heavy weight of being. So fuck her and her stupid fucking bob.

Her contact gets blocked as soon as the message reads delivered.

When you were anxious the familiarity of nature documentaries, specifically the ones about apex predators, were a comfort. Duckie, your best friend of nine years, had been squeamish the first time she watched one of your favorites with you.

It was about big cats in the wilds. The man with the Aussie accent narrated with excitement that belied the violence of seeing a lioness take down a gazelle. From behind the safety of your throw pillow Duckie asked why you like watching stuff like that. You shrugged like you didn’t have an answer.

You did though.

It’s because predators in the wild didn’t hide what they were. They didn’t need to pretend to be anything but carnivorous and survival driven. Would never think to explain to the gazelle that they were sorry for hurting you, but they couldn’t help themself.

It would be even more insulting than being eaten alive.

You’re relieved when the lioness finishes the gazelle off, letting out a small sigh of 'finally' that earns you a wide eyed look from Duckie. The death was quick and even if the gazelle didn’t realize it, she was lucky. You’ve been on the end of an explanation for harm and wished you’d have the mercy of death instead.

But you couldn’t tell Duckie that. So instead you tease her about being a big baby.

For a few years now you’ve gotten into the habit of assigning everyone you meet an animal that reminds you of them. It satisfied both of your interests and it was fun. It’s how Duckie got her nickname. She’d crowed over the cuteness and tried to hug you before you threatened to bite her if she touched you.

It didn't matter the amount of time you'd known a person you grouped them. The scrawny teenager at the local Tesco was Giraffe kid, The high pitched woman next door with the ugly dog, Chihuahua.

You’re looking at your girlfriend of 3 months, Foxy, thinking how the name works for her better than Taylor does.

She’s beautiful even while spitting vitriol as she packs her Telfar bag to the brim with stray items she left behind at your apartment.

When she flicks her hair over a tanned shoulder you’re distracted, remembering how it felt when you gripped the long strands that morning, holding her still and demanding to be kissed. Instead of the soft look she wore then, she’s openly glaring at you now. You know your face is doing the blank thing she hates because she searches it for something. You suppose she doesn’t find whatever that something is because she’s yelling again.

“You make it so FUCKING hard to love you and I can’t do this anymore.”

You're frozen, caught off guard with the remote to the television still in hand as the nature documentary drones on. The ‘what?’ you blurt out is one of genuine confusion, you'd both been cuddled on the couch talking before whatever this was came to be. You wrack your mind trying to remember what the last thing you said was and come up blank. To your embarrassment, you'd been on autopilot the whole morning, so there is a gap in your memories.

Taylor, upon your continued silence makes a sound that can only be described as a screech.

“You always have an excuse why I can’t meet your parents!” She cries exasperatedly, “If you’re ashamed of me I’d rather you just say that over leading me on for God’s sake!”

Your body flinches only slightly when she throws her hands up. You’re still defensive when you bite out a sharp rebuttal that makes her frown and drop your spare key on the coffee table. You don't admit to yourself that you can't remember exactly what you say over the cotton in your ears and the dark corners that sink into your neck at the first display of conflict.

It still stings when she leaves though. You spend the next day crying under your blankets, the pillow she slept on still smells like her perfume. The scent clean and floral, one you'd gotten used to seeking out when you did the laundry.

Fuck, you really did like Foxy. But you suppose you’re going to have to call her Taylor now that she's your ex-girlfriend.

Duckie laughs at Taylor’s comment when you tell her over brunch. Your effervescent friend’s giggle tumbles out of her uncontrollably, whilst her mimosa in hand, threatens to spill in her lap. She slaps a hand over her mouth when a loud snort escapes against her will. She shoots an apologetic smile to the couple at the table adjacent to yours when they ask her to keep it down.

You glare until they turn back to their lunch.

Duckie straightens when she takes in your stiff form, having finally realized she’d stepped on a landmine and right into your ire.

“Darling, you certainly don't make it easy to be close to you, you're a bit…”

She pauses in thought, shifting her glasses on her nose and placing the glass flute down on the table. Today her spectacles are fire engine red with rhinestones on the brim. You’d asked her if she was nearsighted or farsighted once and she’d told you the lenses weren’t prescription. She only wore them to seem a bit older and worldlier when out and about.

You don't like how long it takes for her to search for an adjective and say so when she still doesn’t finish her sentence after several moments.

“I just mean that you're purposely closed off,” She makes a panic flapping movement with her hands when your eyes narrow even more “Oh come on! You like it that way!”

“Duckie, what are you talking about?” You grit between your teeth.

You're pushing your half eaten club sandwich out of the way to lean across the table, waiting to hear her explanation. You’d lost your appetite.

Duckie shirks from your unblinking leer and sniffs indignantly.

“It took me nearly a year to get you to call me your friend and I swear I still feel like I don’t know you.” she gives you a pointed look, “If it weren't for the fact that you’re like that to everyone, I’d think you hated me sometimes, so I really do have to empathize with Taylor in this one.”

She’s waiting for you to say something, you can tell by the way she brings her shoulders up to her ears as if gearing for some great big reaction.

But, that wasn’t your style, never had been. So you still don’t know what’s expected of you. To negate her statement?

You suppose you could tell her that's absurd, she was your best friend in every way. Had been since the day she’d laughed at one of your more tasteless jokes during an intro to Psychology class in undergrad. You were softer for Duckie, more than you were- well really anyone.

Your own mother only knew enough about you to identify you on a morgue table if it ever came down to it. But you don’t tell her that.

Instead you do what you do best. You leave.

You’re pushing up from the table gathering your purse and throwing back the last of your mimosa like a tequila shot, before you can think twice about it.

Duckie tries to reach out to you but you flinch from her touch.

“Wait Darling, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, please don't go!”

“I’m just going to the ladies.” you mumble flatly over your shoulder. At least that's what you hope comes out because your throat is closing up with the effort to hold back the stupid tears in your eyes.

You slam into the restroom startling the barista applying lipstick in the mirror. Her owlish eyes take one look at your dark expression and she pops the top back on her lipstick, skirting past you. You check to make sure the bathroom was truly empty before locking yourself in the biggest stall.

As soon as the lock clicks the dam breaks and it makes you so angry it hurts. The level of intensity of your crying is absolutely repulsive. Your jaw aches with the efforts to muffle the sobs that thrum through your body like a struck chord.

You’re pacing the small enclosure with tears running down your face, feeling like the lioness in the nature documentary after it’d been captured. You feel the gut punch of self loathing as soon as the thought comes up. It's insulting to compare yourself to the deadly beast when you’re trying not to get snot on your dress sleeves.

Duckie comes to the restroom after a while tapping on the stall door, begging you to open up.

You feel only half guilty when you tell her to fuck off. She’s quiet for a while and you know she stands with only the thin door between you, you can see her colorful converses from beneath the gap in the door.

You want to let her in. Figuratively. Literally.

What a relief it would be to just let her crawl into the hole you’ve made at rock bottom and let her be there with you.

You want to laugh imagining her taking the time to do that rocking thing she does when she's trying to get comfortable in the decorative chair in your office. You always remind her it was meant for aesthetics, not comfort when she huffs out the same grouchy complaint about the hardness. She scoffs in mock offense anyways.

“Really Darling, you make enough money to get rid of this thing. Ooh let me send you the link to the bean bag I saw on Wayfair, one sec!”

You’re still crying when you consider that she's really the only person who makes the effort to visit you at the office.

Or anywhere really.

You'd gotten accustomed to only hearing from your family when there was a crisis or need for quick cash to keep them afloat.

If you weren’t stuffing tissues into your running nose you’d scoff at the thought of your parents caring, much less visiting. They were still content to be fuck ups well into their retirement age. You’d long stopped bothering to call to make sure they were still alive after the first year of college.

Maybe if you told Taylor that she would have stayed.

The emotional despair rot you call ‘The Chasm’ deepens and you question if you’d ever really gotten used to the loneliness of having no parent to turn to. The years of casual disdain and dismissal. The resentment for being half a child and reluctant third parent to children that weren’t yours. Their desire for all of you and none of you and back again in an endless loop.

Ceaseless demands of a gluttonous beast you could never please, even when you’ve flayed yourself bare.

It stings, the reminder that you’d been living on scraps and toughness disguised as love long before you met Duckie. Long before Foxy- Taylor- or even the parade of friends and disappointed exes, who’d simply had enough of whatever caustic matter made you, you.

Yet, Duckie is the only one who keeps coming back. Time again she comes back to your side with a smile, like she likes to be with you. Like watching nature shows with you on the couch, eating whatever snacks she brings because she knows you forget to eat, acting like it’s the highlight of her day. Never an inconvenience to care for you the way others had said it was. It makes you cry harder until you can’t breathe because you’re trying not to let her hear you.

Duckie in all her color and too big glasses, has always acted as if she can see that weak part of you peeking out from behind the thorns and quick rebuttals bordering on mean. She still stands waiting for you even now, even when you told her to fuck off in public restroom at your favorite brunch cafe.

It’s staring at the graffiti-ed dick on the stall door when you think you can honestly say you love her and it hurts your feelings that she doesn't know that.

You think you can be honest and tell her that it’s not about Foxy or even Duckie’s laugh at your expense. It’s about the revolving door of disappointment that still keeps you up at night. That landed you under the microscope on a a faceless therapist's couch for emergency sessions and the mementos of non-slip socks in your dresser drawers.

The half guilt turns into full fledged self loathing just thinking about how you really needed to get a cushion for your office and let her in. After a beat you think you’re in control of your crying enough to reach for the lock inside the stall. Of course, as always the universe is having a laugh at your expense.

“Darling, I'm going to go back to the table now okay?”

You know she's making that nervous face scrunch she does when she’s anxious, waiting for you to reply. You can’t, you’re frozen in place as always.

“Don't want them to think we skipped the tab, so just come back when you feel a bit better, yeah?”

She says something about her getting the bill and you can talk when you come back. You don’t hear her really because ‘The Chasm’ calls to you first. You keep it together long enough until the scuffling sounds of her shoes quiet before allowing the tide to take you under again.

Eventually, when you’ve stuffed the feelings back into the pit, you’re able to leave the stall. You never go back to the table. Texting Duckie a simple ‘sorry’ along with a money transfer for your portion of brunch. You leave the restaurant for the safety of your home, wondering if this will be enough for her to leave you too.

You half hope it is because it was exhausting loving someone else.

An hour later there's a timid knock on your apartment door. It’s opening to peer down at a shuffling Duckie on your steps, with flowers and the expensive bottle of wine you like, that you know that it’s not. Enough to keep her from coming back that is.

She follows you inside like a chick behind its mother and toes off her sneakers in the hall next to your rows of shoes. She takes your general wave her way as a sign of ‘go ahead’ when she asks if she can put the flowers in water.

You’re sitting on the couch with your knees to your chest, staring listlessly at the nature channel. You know Duckie is taking in your bare face and faux casualness. You know you look pathetic in your too big hoodie and headscarf. You at least hope you've gotten enough of your makeup off to not look like a drowned raccoon.

'Pathetic', The Chasm says.

Duckie carefully tiptoes over your outstretched legs to scrunch herself small on the other end of the couch. After a few episodes of the documentary, this one about penguins, she slowly makes her way to your side and cautiously gives you a half hug and a tearful apology.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch, I shouldn’t have laughed.” She doesn’t turn from the t.v's glow. You’re secretly thankful she doesn’t look at you because you’re embarrassed for crying again.

With gentle prodding she asks you to tell her how you really feel about Taylor leaving. You tell her. You also tell her about your parents and why it was such a big deal introducing Taylor to them. It’s more than you’ve admitted to any therapist and she has the foresight to not make it a thing.

Duckie just hums quietly, listening. As she sleeps on your shoulder, drool wetting your sleeve, you think you can carve her a spot beside you in rock bottom. Maybe another inside the space where your heart should be, just big enough for one. It’ll just be you and Duckie for as long as she wants it that way. You’re satisfied with the thought, drinking the last of the wine.

As always nothing you ever want matters for very long.

Because Soap doesn’t give you a choice when he barrages into your life and demands you make additional space for him and his stray dog.

Masterlist | Next >>

#okay slay not tagging this much cuz its more of a personal project #wraith king #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #mr clean

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sailorholly · 7 months ago

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Between Us Pt. 7

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy. A tiny bit of smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

Part Six

Spencer ended things with Ashley. It was a huge fight. She didn’t want him to leave her. She knew it had something to do with you. So she resented you. She would bring the greasiest pizza for lunch for the whole team after you mentioned the smell made you sick.

She would comment about how much weight you were gaining. She made you feel so insecure, it was becoming a problem. Your face was swollen today, you couldn’t do anything with your hair, and you felt too nauseous to do your makeup this morning. You walked in to work, hoping Ashley wouldn’t be there.

“You look awful. Pregnancy doesn’t suit you.” She says the moment she sees you. Your hormones have been all over the place lately. Your first instinct was to grab her by the throat, but then you thought about her words, and all her petty behavior towards you. Tears filled your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.

“Why do you think it’s okay to talk to someone the way you talk to me? I would never say anything like that to you. What’s your problem with me anyways? You have hated me since the day you started here. I haven’t done anything to you.”

The tears keep falling, you can’t help it. She was cruel. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Reid wouldn’t even look at me because of you. You had him wrapped around your finger, then you blew it! I finally had my chance, but he was still obsessed with you! He wouldn’t sleep with me because of you. He barely kissed me! Then you got pregnant on purpose to trap him.” She walks right up to you, pointing her finger accusing you.

“Ashley, I did not get pregnant on purpose! I had nothing to do with your relationship.” You try to explain, but she interrupts again. “Save it! I don’t believe you. You’ve got him right where you want him now. I just don’t understand why he would want you, when he could have me!” She places her hands on your shoulders, shoving you backwards.

The back of your legs hit a desk. She is still screeching at you when Spencer pulls her away. “Ashley, get off of her! What are you doing? You could hurt her and the baby!” His cheeks go red, dark eyes flashing. You’ve never seen him this angry before. He looks you over, inspecting carefully for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?” You nod, you’re a little shaken up because you didn’t expect her to put her hands on you.

Hotch comes out of his office, his face stern as he calls Ashley to him. Spencer tells him you’re both taking the day off. He agrees, as he shuts the door behind her. Spencer took you to his apartment, where you spent the day watching your favorite movies and cuddling.

You would normally protest the affection, but after the morning you had it was welcome. As the evening approached, Spencer ordered your latest craving, and you watched one of his favorites, some Russian movie with no subtitles. You had watched it three times with him before, so you knew what was going on. You didn’t stop him when he leaned over to whisper the translation in your ear. His hot breath sent goosebumps down your arms.

It was getting late, so you stood up telling Spencer you needed to go home. “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.” You think about it, but not for long. You really do want to stay. You were comfy here and it had started storming. Spencer knew you were terrified, that’s probably why he offered. So you accepted, you took a shower while he laid out one of the few t-shirts he owned for you to sleep in.

You tossed and turned, the thunder was so loud it felt like it shook the apartment building. You had tried to sleep, but between the storm and what happened with Ashley, you couldn’t. You were so angry with her for putting her hands on you. She’s lucky you were pregnant and caught off guard. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have a job to go back to tomorrow.

You thought of how Spencer stood up for you. He had never been hotter. This new protective side of him was something else. You feel the familiar ache between your legs. If your hormones weren’t making you cry, they made you horny. You slipped your fingers into your panties, trying to take care of yourself. Three hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting no where. You were hot, and so desperate for release.

You should have went home, at least you had your vibrator there. You stand in front of Spencer’s sleeping body on the couch, debating on waking him up. You decide to turn around and go back to bed, but he wakes up.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He sits up, wild eyed and panic lacing his voice. “Um, I -I” You stutter, suddenly feeling ashamed. He stands looking you over for visible injuries. “What is it?” He was concerned and probably scared something was wrong with the baby. “Everything is okay - with the baby.” You finally manage.

Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Something’s wrong with you then?” You put your hands on your hips, his shirt raising on your thighs. His gaze lingers on the newly exposed skin for longer than they should. “It’s embarrassing.” You confess.

“Y/N, you know you can tell me anything.” He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles by your thumb. You let out a deep breath. “I’m so horny, I think I might die if I don’t get off. I tried to do something about it myself, but it’s not enough.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you want me to - oh!” Realization sinks in. He runs a hand through his messy brown curls. “Are you sure?” He asks so softly, you’re not sure if you really heard it. “Yes, I’ve never been more sure of anything. Spencer, I need you.”

Spencer pulls you to him on the couch, your legs spreading on either side of his sitting form. He presses soft kisses to your lips, but you need more. You deepen the kiss, hands traveling down to lift his shirt. He helps you, tossing it over his head, kissing down your neck. His long fingers trail along your torso, toward your breasts. He takes your nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly.

You moan, loving how sensitive they were because of the pregnancy. It makes everything more intense. Spencer gently moves you off him, to a lying position on the couch. He lifts the t-shirt he let you wear over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He looks at you with a softness you've never seen before. Suddenly, you feel very self-conscious.

You try to cover yourself. You weren't thinking about how differently you looked now. Your breasts were swollen, your stomach wasn't close to being a baby bump yet, but you were bloated. Spencer had to notice too. What were you thinking? He was only doing this to fulfill some kind of obligation he felt for you. He knocked you up, so he had to help you out. That's how Spencer was, he would always take care of you. But you couldn't take advantage of him like this.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, noticing the sudden change. "I'm not in the mood anymore, but thanks for helping." You force a small smile, but he notices. He was very observant. That's what made him such a good profiler. "You're soaking wet. Why are you trying to stop this?" He runs a finger down the seam of your panties to prove his point, your arousal soaking through the fabric, wetting his finger.

"I just look so differently than the last time we did this. I get it if you're not attracted to me right now. I just don't want you to be doing this out of pity." You gesture to your exposed body. "I think you're even more beautiful than before. Your body is changing to make a comfortable home for our baby. I'm so lucky I get to have you like this."

Spencer takes a nipple between his lips, large hand dipping under the waistband of your panties. He hooks an impossibly long finger inside you, his thumb swirling soft circles against your clit. Any worries you had about him not being attracted to you, fade as he works you with his fingers. You feel the pressure building low in your stomach as his tongue swipes at your nipples. He was always so talented with his mouth. You shatter around his fingers, as he removes his lips from your breasts. "You did so good for me." He praises, kissing your stomach.

You yawn, the force of the orgasm and all the craziness from today finally allowing you to rest. "You need to rest, come on." Spencer helps you off the couch, leading you to his bed. "But what about you?" You ask, motioning toward his erection. "I'm fine, really. Tonight was all about you." You open your mouth to protest, but another yawn slips out. He tucks you under the blankets, kissing your forehead before walking back to his makeshift bed on the couch.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @ilikw @theoraekenslover

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #between us #spencer reid au #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr

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nouearth · 1 year ago

Text

autumn reminders.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: in the start of autumn, you surprise bruce with lunch because he hasn't been taking care of himself.

wc: 1.3k. warnings: fluff, kinda angst(?), comfort! fic, established relationship, mentions of food, bruce is overworked, he's also horny, worried!reader, touchy!bruce, husband!bruce.

a/n: a short little one-shot because i miss writing for bruce! and autumn is finally here, so i can finally wear my sweaters!! idk, i feel bad for not updating as much, and i also didn't want to only update with smut, lol. but i hope you guys enjoy it! <3 maybe i'll write something about pumpkin spice coffee soon!

the building absorbed the heavy clacks of your suede oxfords as you ambled along the halls. tall windows lined by your side, illuminating you in the afternoon with every step, and occasionally, you’d pause to snap a photo at the autumn vista. it was approaching quick: the cooler weather, the stronger gales, and the changing leaves. while you loved the season most for bringing out your sweaters and coats—most importantly, the autumn season brought in curated festivals, decoration, and your favorite: the autumn menu.

“oh—mister wayne, do you need help with that?” an employee was quick to turn on his heel as you passed by him, but he caught in in four steps, wide-eyed when you turned at the sound of his voice.

“no, it’s all right! figured this would be my punishment for skipping out arm-day!” though you struggled maintaining the weight of several paper bags in your arms and two coffee cups, a smile of assurance and a thumbs up, barely visible in between the grasp of the cup and the height of the bags, reluctantly sent the employee on his way to his duties.

the smile on your face was radiant, much more than a few seconds ago. it’s been almost a year, but it hasn’t gotten old yet—being called mister wayne.

it only took a few more minutes, a fresh bruise to the elbow when you bumped into a wall, and then a scare when you almost dropped your coffee before you were at bruce’s door. before you could put the bags and cups down to open it, it flew open with a confident swing and you jolted from the gentle ambush, hugging the paper bags closer to your body to still the weight.

“why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” the ache in your arms was immediately relieved once you stepped inside bruce’s office, the latter taking a bag for himself and setting it on his coffee table after locking the door closed.

“were you watching the security cameras again?” you followed, setting the other bag next to it, as well as the two coffee cups before then stretching your arms above your head, a pleasurable groan kicking a strum from your throat.

“well, yes—wanted to see if you could make it up here without getting lost.” bruce chuckled, reaching out to firmly squeeze your tense shoulders twice. “but the secretary also told me you were heading up.” you groaned again, at the confession and the aggressive touch, playfully flicking his hands away while you were bent over to disperse the takeout from the paper bags. but bruce persisted with a firmer grasp, massaging your shoulders when he lined behind your figure.

“you’re kidding! she promised me she wouldn’t!“ the rigid touch of bruce’s hands eventually wandered off into gentle squeezes to your sides, waist, and bottom. your chest rose for a deep inhale, glancing at the locked door as you stood straight again, and then deflated, exhaling, when a single hand found its home on your stomach, warm and heavy on the layers of clothing, only to escape when it took slow dive to the compress of your belt, nudging the sturdy leather with his fingertips.

there was a sudden weight on your left shoulder. he hooked his chin over the narrow muscle to peek over at his hands fiddling with the leather strap, kissing your neck in midst of the fidgeting. “shouldn’t have bought you this—it was easier when you had that cheaper belt.”

“I knew you’d come around to the idea of second-hand clothing!” the surge of veins in your neck as you laughed vibrated against his lips, and bruce joined you in quiet chuckles, his arms holding you tight when he finally unbuckled your belt.

there was a satisfied sound from bruce, sinking into your skin as he continued on kissing your neck, when he removed your belt, and as much as you wanted your husband right now, the ache down south aiding this frustration as it demanded you to ignore the smell of the cooling takeout, your stomach grumbled when the aroma of the sandwiches was resolute and stung your nostrils. the smell of deli meat unfurled in the air to claim its next victim, and the sound of bruce’s stomach groused after.

“lunch first.” you rolled your head back into his shoulders, matching his doting gaze with a smile as you admired his looks for the nth time since you’ve met him. “year is ending soon, so i know you have a lot of late meetings to attend to.”

bruce’s slicked-back hair revealed more of the fine wrinkles on his forehead and emphasized the sharpness of his features. you were embarrassed to admit that upon first meeting him, you were too intimidated by his presence to revel in his beauty like everyone else did. even when you’ve gotten to know him, it had always been his story that had stoned you by his side.

“i know, i’m sorry. I’ll try to come home early, but i can’t promise that.”

now that you’ve read every chapter of his life up to this point, you could finally take the time to appreciate how handsome he was. beyond surface level features, you could allude every small detail on his face to the novel of bruce wayne, down to every page, because you were a part of his life now. your hand cupped his cheek as your thumb laved over his eye-bags, tender in its warm stride. bruce hummed, leaning into your palm and watching you silently as seconds went by.

“don’t apologize! i’ll visit you when you have time, yeah? don’t overwork yourself too. alfred’s been nagging at me to bring you meals, so consider this part of your daily routine now! and you’ve been skipping out on dinner because of—”

it was like he knew what you were about to say, about his double-life as a vigilante. your gaze grew concerning. he had noted how your brows knitted together when you were reluctant to say something, when something had been bothering you.

when the words caught in your throat, bruce seized the opportunity to kiss your worries away instead. it made him feel better—knew it made you feel better—even if it was temporarily, and he pressed harder into your lips, kissing every corner of flesh until his own worries regarding your safety had briefly perished.

bruce was never good with his words.

he pulled away with a delighted sigh, leaning his forehead onto yours once he turned you back around, and his palms immediately found themselves warming your flushed cheeks. "i'll be okay."

but he was willing to try, for you.

"i have no doubts about that. i just need you to be extra, extra okay." the image of a bloodied bruce months ago still haunted you in your wake, but it only took a gentle press of bruce's palms to reel you back into the haven of his arms.

bruce laughed, and upon noticing that it only raised another level of fret within you, a deeper ribbon threading your eyebrows closer, he pressed the tip of his nose to yours like he did the very first time he held you, and kissed your lips again.

"i'll be extra, extra, extra okay." he assured with your tired murmurs, and you sighed into them as if they were a lullaby, sinking into his arms completely.

your lips danced with his in a slow and calming waltz, and you shuddered when the breeze from the acceleration of your pulse surged though your chest. bruce held you closer to his body, pressing the swell of your heart to his own and puzzling every individual beat until they fused as one, pulsated into one another.

“so, sandwiches, huh? does alfred know that i’m eating terrible? something that isn't from his own hands?"

“not if you tell him, asshole.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne angst #nou.fics

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disaster-writer · 5 months ago

Text

Poison (Part 3/4)

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto Koutarou x Beta!Reader

Summary: You loved love, but it wasn’t made for you… but maybe a certain Alpha could change your mind

Word Count: 6.4k

AU: Omegaverse

Part 1 Part 2

7am

”Take me to work with you again!” Ami pounced on you as soon as your alarm went off.

For the second day in a row.

”Amiiii,” you groaned, face down into your pillow, “Get off!” You threw an arm behind you to try and push her off but she easily caught it. “Why do you want to go again anyway,” you grumbled into your pillow.

”Because I want to watch all the hot alphas practice again!” She chirped. “It’s not fair you get to hog them to yourself!”

”I’m not hogging anyone! They’re my coworkers!” You yelled into the pillow, “Now will you get off!”

”Only if I can come!”

You sighed, blinking the sleepy blurriness from your eyes. “They’re doing weight training in the weight room today. I’m gonna be in my office organizing schedules and in meetings all day. You’re gonna be bored.”

”I won’t be bored!”

* * * *

“Im boreeeeed,” Ami whined, sinking into the chair she was in, almost falling off of it.

”That’s what I tried to tell you,” you all but growled while typing up a list of repairs that need to take place in the gym into a spreadsheet.

”I thought I’d be able to hang out with the Alphas.”

You rolled your eyes, stopping your typing momentarily, “Yeah cause that makes sense. The manager is gonna be hiding away in her office all day while her sister is ogling the Alphas while they’re supposed to be working. Makes perfect sense!” You scoffed.

She only grumbled something under her breath before climbing to her feet and dragging them over to your bookshelf.

Your office was so boring, she had thought.

At home your house was so colorful and loud in a way that was so aesthetically pleasing and thought out but here you had boring plain walls, with a boring plain desk, and boring plain chairs.

Honestly how Bokuto found any interest in you at all when this was how you presented yourself to the world was beyond her.

She pouted staring at the book case, “Even your books are boring— where’s the manga?”

”At home. Where you should’ve stayed.”

”What do you want to do after work today? What’s cool to do around here?”

”I’m five seconds away from kicking you out.”

”Alright fine, I’ll look for a fun place we can go eat at after— maybe we can catch a movie too!”

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose and stood up, your seat sliding out from under you.

You marched your way towards your sister and grabbed her upper arm, “I know this is a little vacation for you,” you dragged her to the door of your office, “But I have work to do.”

You swung the door open, about to toss her out when you came face to chest with Bokuto.

You looked up at your co-worker who had a fist poised that was ready to knock on your door.

”Bokuto-san?” You furrowed your brow, “We don’t have any scheduled meetings right now, shouldn’t you be in the weight room?” You asked, grip slackening on your sisters arm.

He grinned widely as usual, “Coach called lunch!”

”Right, so,” Ami started, pulling her arm from your grasp, “I need to use the restroom! Bye!” She chirped, scampering down the hallway.

You rolled your eyes at your sister— you were sure she thought she was being little miss matchmaker again like she was back in high school.

Well that wouldn’t work this time— you were determined it wouldn’t. In high school she knew all the Alphas and had each one of them wrapped around her finger but here you were the one in charge. If she thought leaving you alone with a coworker that you saw almost every day and have spent the last two years learning everything about was going to force you two to date, then she had another thing coming.

Besides… it simply wouldn’t be professional.

You shook your head slightly, shaking the thought of murdering your sister from your mind, “Anyway— what can I help you with Bokuto-san?”

”I brought something for you!” He exclaimed, holding a bag up.

Right.

This again.

”Bokuto-san I don’t know how else to explain it to you— is that mille fueille?”

Your eyes nearly widened to the size of dinner plates at the sight of the cake Bokuto pulled out of the bag in a clear cake container.

Bokuto grinned at the sound of your sudden excitement.

“It is! I made it for you!”

In reality Bokuto’s sisters had mostly made the cake while Bokuto ranted about everything Ami had told him about you to them. A similar routine as they had made every bento that Bokuto had given you to help their poor dense brother out while convincing him that he was truly the chef… or baker in this case.

You continued to stare at the cake, mouth already starting to water as you partially registered Bokuto’s words, “But uh— how— how’d you know this is my favorite?” You asked, still distracted by the cake. You reached out to grab the container.

“Intuition!” He declared proudly.

It was the first dessert on the list Ami gave him.

“I can have the whole thing?” You asked in wonder.

”Of course! It’s for you! I also got you something else.”

You looked up as Bokuto rifled through the bag and pulled something out for you, presenting them to you as he had with the cake.

”What are these?” You asked, picking up the fabric in his hands. You unfolded it, “Kneepads?”

”I got you a matching pair to mine! They’re extra long just like my kneepads!”

And suddenly multiple things hit you at once like a bag of bricks over the head.

You took in a shaky breath as an intense heat filled up your face and you just knew every drop of blood in your body decided to travel to your head.

You nervously cleared your throat, no longer able to look Bokuto in the eye, “And— and what exactly would I need kneepads for?”

“For your volleyball games!”

”…Right.”

You were going to wring Ami’s fucking neck.

But another thought overshadowed your desire to kill your sister in that moment.

Bokuto Kotarou was courting you.

You stared at the items that you held.

Your favorite cake that he made for you. A pair of matching kneepads for your volleyball games.

Bokuto gave you these.

An Alpha gave you these because he was interested in a relationship with you, a Beta.

And if that wasn’t enough, “I was told that I should finally come out and say it,” he sucked in a large breath of air, “I have been courting you for nine months now Miss Manager, I would like to take you out on a date.”

Your knees felt weak.

”Beta-chan?” Bokuto asked you curiously as you had suddenly gone so quiet, suddenly a little nervous now for your rejection even though Ami said there was no way you’d turn him down.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you slowly looked up from the gifts and at Bokuto.

It was like you were seeing him for the first time.

And you could practically see animated hearts floating around his head as an overwhelming anxiety came over you that you had never experienced in his presence before.

‘No, no, no, no, this is so fucking bad. I can’t pursue a relationship with him— he’s my coworker. And he’s an Alpha, we’re both simply incompatible. It would never work— I’m gonna fucking kill Ami when I see her- okay well maybe one date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, Bokuto’s always been so sweet—‘

”Thank you for the gifts!” You suddenly shouted before slamming the door in his face.

Your back hit the door and you slowly slid down it in despair.

“You’re welcome Miss Manager!” You heard him cheer from the other side, clearly not hurt in the slightest at having the door slammed in his face. “I’ll ask you out again tomorrow!” He added, clearly not dissuaded as you technically didn’t reject him and you did accept his gifts.

‘Why do I feel like I’m back in high school all of a sudden!?’ You cried in your head.

But this was the reality of the situation.

Bokuto was courting you.

And you suddenly had a crush.

You were pushed forward as Ami opened the door on you.

”What are you doing down there?” She asked, peering down at you from around the door, “Where’d Bokuto go—ah!”

”You bitch!” You shrieked, yanking on her leg and knocking her out from under herself before pinning her to the ground, “You’re playing matchmaker again! I told you to stop interfering with my love life!”

Ami managed to get you off balance, rolling you over and pinning you instead, “You needed the interference!” She yelled, “And I told you he was courting you! He just needed a push in the right direction!”

”And what am I supposed to do now!? It’s not like I can actually go out with him!”

”What? Why not?” She whined.

“I work with him, that’s why!”

”Yeah, I looked into that and there isn’t a rule saying you two can’t date.”

”Wha— Yeah, well—“ you spluttered, “Just— stay out of my love life!— ah!” You yelped as your Apple Watch buzzed. Your eyes widened, “Get off! I have a meeting starting!” You managed to shove her off and scramble back into your office.

* * * *

Ami knew you were pissed when you refused to talk to her for the rest of the day— even when she was purposefully being annoying.

Hours upon hours of meetings had passed, hours of scheduling, hours of calling repair men and whoever the fuck else you needed to call… Ami lost track after falling asleep on your office floor.

And then Ami knew you were really pissed when you still didn’t talk on the way home.

In fact, you didn’t address her properly until you reached your house.

”Alright,” you scoffed the second the front door slammed closed. You turned to look at her, throwing your briefcase to the ground, “What did you tell him?”

She only grinned, her little canines poking out, “Mille fuille is your favorite isn’t it~” she lilted.

”Okay so you told him my favorite dessert and that I play volleyball. What else?” You crossed your arms.

She tilted her head as if to ponder what it was, before she snapped her fingers, “I told him you have a stripper pole.”

”HAH!?” you shrieked, “You really told him that!?

”I did!” She chirped, “Along with a buncha other shit about you. I made sure that he got a full comprehensive view of you and I gave him pointers on how to court a Beta. And see how much better he did with my meddling!” She cheered.

You shook your head in exasperation, “Oh this can’t be happening.”

”But it is!” She exclaimed, jumping onto your back. “Isn’t that exciting! True love!”

You pushed her off, quickly spinning around and grasping her shoulders, “Okay, um,” you stammered, trying to organize the tornado of thoughts violently flying around your head, “Bokuto like— he actually likes me?”

”Duh.”

”No but like— he like likes me? Bokuto, an Alpha, not just any kind of Alpha but like top tier Alpha wants to date me? A Beta.”

Ami shrugged, “I’m just as shocked as you are.”

”Okay but why?”

”Oh right!” She suddenly slapped you.

You held your cheek, “What was that for!?”

”For not telling me a fucking Alpha scented you.”

”Huh?” You stared at her in utter confusion until it dawned on you. Last seasons final game. “Oh that? That was nothing.”

”Clearly not because the guys had an emotional hard on for you for nearly a year— and probably a physical one to if you think about it.”

”Shut up,” you shrieked, your face flushing, “Stop talking about Bokuto having a hard on!”

”Ohohoh,” Ami wiggled her eyebrows at you, “Does that make you embarrassed~” she teased, “You know both his stamina and power is at a 5?”

”Of course I know that, why do you know that?”

”I looked him up of course! Had to see what my baby sister was getting into! Or I guess who would be getting into her~” she wiggled her eyebrows again.

”Okay, stop it! That’s not funny!” You held your face which was now burning to the touch with your furious blush. “He’s really liked me since then?”

”Yup!”

”Oh God,” you started pacing back and forth again, “He probably thinks I’m an idiot!”

”Actually out of the two of you, he’s remarkably the idiot.”

”What do you mean?” You stopped your pacing to look at her, “I know he’s not exactly the brightest but I feel like with something like this—“

”No, he’s an idiot, trust me,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever met an Alpha so blindly loyal to someone without being in a relationship first. I gotta say, I’m a little jealous sis. That man is in deep.”

”You’re lying— I would have noticed—“

”Hellooo, anyone home?” She knocked on your head, “Of course you haven’t— he’s been courting you like you were an Omega. See, he’s sweet, but that man is stupid. But don’t worry about that, the dumb one’s are usually the best in bed.”

”No. This is ridiculous,” you shook your head, “I can’t possibly go out with Bokuto Koutarou— it’s Bokuto— professional athlete Bokuto— 6 foot 2 Bokuto… Alpha Bokuto…” you trailed off in a daze before rapidly shaking your head from that train of thought, “No it’s not happening.”

”Why nottttt,” she whined.

”Because it just can’t.” You said, “Now, I’m gonna take a long hot bath and when I come out we are putting all of that to rest and never speaking about Bokuto again, okay?”

Ami lifted a brow, staring at you unconvincingly. She knew her sister and she knew this subject would be beating a dead horse by the end of the night.

”Sure. Whatever you say~”

* * * *

You did well. You were proud of yourself.

You had managed to go the entire night without talking about the man that hadn’t left your mind.

But God, was that difficult.

You liked Bokuto. He was good energy to have around at work and he was always so sweet and friendly with everyone. The fans loved him for more than just his skills just because his personality was larger than life.

The man was truly a star.

But holy shit… he was a star that just so happened to want to take you out on a date.

You tossed and turned in bed that night. You stayed up for a while watching your favorite romance movies with Ami all the while refusing to engage with her and her teasing.

But now you couldn’t sleep.

Not when you pictured yourself in the lead role from your favorite movie and Bokuto as the love interest, determinedly pursuing her because he was so in love.

You sat up in bed. Your hair was a mess from all the tossing and turning and Mochi had abandoned you for the floor a while ago.

You quickly found yourself scrambling out of bed, grabbing your cat, and stumbling down the stairs to the guest room.

Quietly sneaking in and avoiding anything you could make out in the night, you found yourself in front of Ami’s sleeping form.

”Ami.” You whispered, “Ami— Ami— Hey!”

Ami shot up in a fright, spooking Mochi in your arms who clawed her way out of your hold, forcing you to drop her.

You frowned, staring at the thin, red scratches on your hand, “Ow…”

”What are you doing!” Ami panted, turning the night table lamp on. “You look crazy.” She said breathlessly, eyeing your wild hair and frantic look in your eyes.

”So uh—“ you started twiddling your fingers, hunched over your sister, “What has Bokuto said about me…?” You asked awkwardly, cursing yourself for sounding so high school.

A devious little grin grew on Ami’s face and she tugged you onto the bed.

”So you do want to date him!”

”I’m not saying that!” You yelped, “I just— I wanna know what he’s been saying.” You blushed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but guys don’t typically get crushes on me.”

Ami giggled such a girlish and excited laugh, you really did think for a minute that you’d been transported back to high school. “Well he seems to think you smell really good,” she giggled again as you blushed.

”If I knew he was scenting my shit I would’ve made sure to do laundry more often,” you groaned, “Or at least worn more perfume.”

”Oh don’t be silly, Alphas are more interested in natural scents anyway. Besides he’s been trying to decode yours for like ever it sounds like.”

”Decode?”

”Yeah dummy. He thinks there’s more to you that he doesn’t know about. Whyever he would think that is beyond me,” she remarked sarcastically, “You’re just oh so transparent with your coworkers.” She glared.

”I’m the perfect amount of transparent, thank you very much,” you crossed your arms.

”You don’t even go to team parties,” she deadpanned, “Have they even seen you outside of your pantsuits and tracksuits?”

”No, and they don’t need to. I have an entire team of Alphas that respect me.”

”Oh give me a break,” she rolled her eyes, “They’re not gonna lose respect for you by seeing you in a nice dress at a work party and letting your hair down a bit— and I mean that literally and figuratively— they haven’t even seen you with your hair down for goodness sakes.”

”I know that,” you huffed.

”Then what are you so afraid of!” She exclaimed in exasperation.

You pouted, beginning to pick at your nail, murmuring something under your breath.

”What?” She asked with a confused expression, straining to hear you.

”It’s just—“ you stopped yourself, rubbing your suddenly clammy hands on your pajama pants, “Every time I try to be myself around Alphas or Omegas, I’m always let down… people don’t exactly like me, y’know.”

”That’s not true—“

”You don’t count,” you snapped, “It’s like there’s always been this divide between me and everyone else. I can’t relate to them and they can’t relate to me— it’s like we’re on completely different wave lengths. Why do you think my siblings are my best friends?”

”Well I thought it was because you liked us.”

”Tch.” You tsked, “I do… I guess I’m just tired and afraid of being rejected.”

“Then date Bokuto,” she said, clasping your hands now, a shine in her eyes as she leaned in, “I’m telling you, you guys are perfect for each other. You’re both so delightfully weird and fun to be around, and he genuinely likes you. He told me he thinks you’re really pretty and I can’t even begin to explain how excited he was to finally learn more about you. And he’s so nice—“

”You just met him,” you scoffed.

”Yeah and unlike you he actually is transparent. But it would be good for you! You deserve to be happy!”

You sighed, pulling your hands from hers to rake them through your hair, “I’ll— well I guess I already have been thinking about it. But this month is so fucking crazy already— we have a game against the Adlers this week and a huge press conference and those are always a nightmare to manage, not to mention all the sponsors that have been breathing down my neck—“

”I get it, you’re busy” she cut you off, “But you’re always gonna have something to blame putting your love life on hold, so will you actually think about it.”

”Yeah— Yeah I will,” you said, looking at her with determination now.

“Good. Now go to bed, you have work in the morning.”

”Yeah. By the way, you’re banned from coming back,” you said, standing up.

”What? Why?”

”Two days babysitting you was enough. You don’t have to stay here but you can’t come with me to work, and I promise we’ll do something fun when I come back.”

Ami pouted, grumbling under her breath as you left the room.

* * * *

The following morning you had woken up to your alarm and just your alarm today.

Fumbling for your phone in your bedsheets you quickly turned off the alarm, before laying back with a sigh.

That had to have been one of the most unproductive nights of “sleeping” you’ve had in a while.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about Bokuto and all his gifts and everything he told you yesterday— you were losing your mind.

It was funny too, back when you were a teenager you would’ve jumped head first into a relationship with an Alpha that so proudly declared his feelings for you. You wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But you weren’t that young Beta anymore.

You’ve chosen to put your career before a relationship, so mixing the two was always out of the question.

On top of that, and more glaringly… you were a Beta.

You two weren’t and would never be compatible biologically, hell, you hadn’t even noticed he was courting you for nine months.

But at the same time Bokuto was so sickeningly sweet and kind. Anybody would be lucky to have him as a mate.

You grabbed the pillow next to you, placed it over your head and screamed, spooking Mochi in the process.

You then pulled yourself out of your bed to start your day.

Standing in front of your closet, you had a conundrum. You had a few phone calls to make today but for the most part your plan was to watch practice.

On the one hand you could wear your tracksuit and spend the majority of your day in the gym like you planned or, you could wear a pantsuit and hide all day in your office like a little bitch just so you didn’t have to embarrass yourself in front of the team and Bokuto.

You knew yourself too well. Any professional facade you were able to maintain will be immediately crumbling upon talking or even seeing Bokuto for the forseeable future.

You grabbed your pantsuit.

It’s official, today would be the first you were shirking out on responsibility.

When you had opened your door after changing, you were immediately tackled to the ground.

”Amiiii,” you whined, “You’re gonna give me a concussion one day,” you glared at her grinning face above you.

”Soooo,” she dragged out.

”Whaaat?” You asked, mimicking her tone uneasily.

”Are you gonna go out with Bokuto!? Duh!?”

”I don’t know,” you huffed, “It’s all very confusing and we have a game tomorrow, I can’t get distracted right now!”

”I thought we talked about this last night!? Excuses!”

”Yeah, well, when the excuse is literally not even a day away then I’ll take that advice. Now off,” you wriggled beneath her.

”Booo,” she whined, rolling off, “Why do you make things so difficult.”

”I’ll stop making things difficult when life’s not difficult,” you stood up. “Now let me finish getting ready.”

You moved about your apartment as you readied yourself for the day, following your routine as always until you eventually found yourself at the doors to the gym.

Fuck— you don’t remember ever being this nervous going to work… not even on your first day.

You peaked through the windows of the doors. Some of the players were out stretching already but no sign of Bokuto.

Perfect.

You’d be in and out. You’d wave to the players, say good morning to coach and tell him you’ll be in your office all day, and you’ll be out.

A lump formed in your throat knowing you were about to lie to him.

But it was time to quit stalling, waiting any longer out here meant giving more time for Bokuto to finish getting ready in the locker room and coming out.

You braced yourself, walking into the gym. You waved to the players like you did every morning and walked straight to Samson.

”Morning coach.”

”Good morning Miss Manager,” he greeted, “Another day in the office huh?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “Yeah, I’ll try to stop by and watch practice later but I’m swamped today.”

He nodded in understanding, “No worries if you can’t though. It seems everyone’s busy with tomorrow’s match.”

”Right, well I’ll let you get to it, call me if you need anything.”

”Same goes for you.”

You nodded, turning to walk away.

Alright. Okay. Everything was fine.

You managed to lie straight through your teeth without any suspicion. And still no sign of Bokuto.

A sigh of relief escaped your parted lips as your hands came into contact with the cool metal of the door handle.

”BETA-CHANNN!!!”

Your heart plummeted.

As expected, a second later you were being swept off your feet and cradled in two very large arms.

And shit— it actually felt nice this time.

Your brain felt like mush all of a sudden.

”Did you like the mille fuille?” He asked excitedly.

“I-I did,” you stammered— was it always hot in here? Did you need to find a repair man for the a/c too? “It was very yummy.”

Yummy? What the fuck were you saying?

Bokuto cheered excitedly, “I made you something else today too, but I’ll give it to you later. Ami told me you don’t like public attention,” he ‘whispered’.

Speaking of which… your eyes glided over the gym full of Alphas all staring at you both.

”The knee pads fit nicely too,” you murmured shyly.

Why the fuck did you say that?

You literally opened your mouth to tell him to let go of you but instead that fucking word vomit came out.

”Bokuto-san, put her down and start stretching,” Samson suddenly shouted.

Oh God.

”Okay!” He answered before placing you down gently to your feet. “I’ll see you later Beta-Chan.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and nearly stumbled out of the gym.

Bokuto ran into the gym giddily, joining Atsumu, Hinata, and Sakusa in their stretches.

Bokuto grinned, humming to himself as all three men stared at him in shock.

”Ami really is Kamisama,” Atsumu said in complete shock.

”What the fuck just happened?” Sakusa deadpanned, complete and utter disbelief dripping from every word.

”That was the first time she didn’t tell you to put her down!” Hinata added, clapping Bokuto on the back.

”Ya know I’ve been tellin’ ya from the start to just fuckin’ ask her out, but nooo. A little Omega comes along and tells ya to do it once and he does it. That’s ’Mega privilege right there.”

”Oh let’s not get started on Omega privilege,” Inunaki groaned, tired of Atsumu’s rants on said topic.

“He’s not even listening,” Sakusa said, watching as Bokuto continued to hum in his own little world.

* * * *

You were sitting underneath your desk.

Why?

You had no fucking clue as to why, all you knew was that you needed to be in a small space or the world was going to end.

Well perhaps that was a tad too dramatic but sitting under here did make you feel a little more sane even if the optics showed otherwise.

You just couldn’t stop thinking about the coach having to tell Bokuto to put you down.

You had been held in his arms long enough for the coach to see you weren’t doing anything about it and having to tell him to put you down himself.

You were going to get fired at this rate.

You haven’t even agreed to anything yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

You wish you had work. You wish you had anything else to do in your office other than sitting underneath your desk.

He was going to come by here and give you more presents today.

He said he was going to ask you out again.

What were you going to say.

If you’re already acting like a lovesick idiot how the fuck are you going to continue to be professional in the workplace.

There was that and then there was also… Ushiwaka.

You cursed.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so freaked out about dating Bokuto if he hadn’t gotten in your head all those years ago.

Alphas and Betas are not compatible.

That’s what he had told you after you asked him out.

And yeah, of course you knew that. You were pretty sure the percent of Alpha/Beta relationships being successful was only like 1.2%. Even then those alphas in those successful relationship had higher omega hormone levels than an Alpha such as Bokuto would have.

Which was why it was even a miracle in and of itself that Bokuto was even interested in you at all.

But that fact wasn’t what deterred you from pursuing Alphas, it never was.

What did deter you was the rest of what he had said.

You sighed sadly.

You weren’t cut out for this. Of course you wouldn’t be able to give Bokuto what he needs, which is a perfect little omega that he can dote on and take care of. Someone that needed that protection only a strong Alpha such as him could provide.

You couldn’t scent him. You knew he could scent you but that was always an intensely intimate act between two mates and… you can’t do your part. He’d be missing out on a bonding ritual that you knew strong Alphas like him, especially ones who ran purely on instinct, needed.

And as embarrassing as it was, it was also an undeniable reality. What the fuck could you do to help him when he starts to rut.

You already knew the conditions these Alphas worked under. Their off season was hellish.

Taking them off their rut suppressants made for violent and dangerous ruts that even some of their own Omegas told you that they couldn’t help them through it to the end.

You heard Atsumu had to replace every piece of furniture in his bedroom.

You heard Hinata broke down his door when he could smell his Omega neighbor go into heat due to his own rut.

You really weren’t cut out for this.

Maybe if he wasn’t as strong as he was, maybe if he was a lesser Alpha, it’d be different.

But he wasn’t. He, along with the rest of the players, were the top of the pecking order. He went anywhere and other Alphas were submitting to him, recognizing him as the Alpha.

That’s just the way it fucking was.

You didn’t wait for him to come during lunch break.

You needed more time, this invisible pressure weighed on you like a ton of bricks. You thrived off of having deadlines and schedules, and the fact that you didn’t have a deadline when it came to giving Bokuto your answer was deeply fucking with you.

He’d probably ask you out until he got a straight answer from you for another nine months and that just felt so evil to do— to make such a pure hearted Alpha wait like that all because of this fucking inferiority complex you had.

You decided to eat out instead when you knew coach would be calling a lunch break. Just a few more hours to think and you’d give him an answer, a real answer so he wouldn’t be wasting his time courting you anymore.

But you already had a feeling you knew what you were going to tell him.

There was a cute little café you went to on occasion. It reminded you of a café back home you used to go to after being rejected and wanting to be alone to wallow in your own self pity.

You just never thought you’d ever go there before contemplating whether or not you’d reject a perfectly suitable and sweet Alpha.

You were grateful for the familiarity of solitude as you sat inside, staring out the window and watching all the passerby’s on the sidewalks… most of which being happy couples, you noted bitterly.

You had been by yourself like this for so long. You don’t even know what kind of person you’d be in a relationship.

You couldn’t do it.

Bokuto deserved better.

By the time you finished lunch and made it back to the gym the boys were already hard at work again.

And speaking of work, you had some of your own to actually get to now.

You made the few phone calls you had penned down in your ‘To Do’, gathering details for tomorrow’s match and finalizing the plans.

By the time you were finished it was time to go home.

Packing your bags, there was an eager knock at your door.

You knew who it was.

You sighed, “Come in!”

”Beta-chan!” Bokuto exclaimed, throwing your door open.

He was in such a good mood you finally noticed how dramatically your own mood changed from the flustered, bashful Beta you were this morning.

”Hi Bokuto-san,” you gave him an uneasy smile, trying not to give away how unstable you had felt all day.

”You weren’t in your office for lunch.” He said, coming up to your desk as you packed up your bag.

”Yeah, I… kinda forgot to pack one today,” you lied, your bento was still full, “So I went out for lunch.”

”Oh,” he frowned, “I would have given you mine— I can go back to making bentos for you everyday!” He lit up suddenly at the prospect of caring for you in a way Alphas typically cared for their Omegas.

“No, no, that’s alright,” your voice sounded strained. “Thank you though.”

”I brought the gifts,” Bokuto then said, rifling through his duffle bag. “Here!” He found what he was looking for and gave it to you.

”Dangos?” You bit back a smile, heart fluttering.

”Yeah! And this!” He handed you a box.

Your jaw fell to the floor. It was a rare figure from one of your favorite anime, you looked up to him and stammered, “H-How—“ your stomach dropped.

”Kenma helped me!”

You looked back down to the box and then to the dangos.

”I,” God your heart was fucking pounding, “I can’t accept these,” you murmured, “I’m sorry.”

”But I brought those for you,” he suddenly seemed to deflate, “I want you to have them and I want to ask you out on a date again.”

”But that’s,” you groaned, slumping in your seat, “I can’t date you Bokuto-san.” You stared hard into the floor— you felt like such a fucking bitch, you couldn’t even look at the man that had been pursuing you for nine months while you rejected him.

”Wait— but why,” he pressed both hands against the top of your desk, leaning over it, “You don’t like the gifts?” He asked sadly. “I can get better one’s— I can make you something else—“

“Oh Koutarou,” you murmured sadly.

Bokuto became stiff, all too aware that that was the first time you had ever called him by his first name, without an honorific no less.

“You’re so sweet. You’ve always been so sweet and kind towards me and I want to say yes to you— I want to say yes so bad—“

”Then say yes!” He insisted, lighting up again, “I already have it planned out. There’s that new rom-com coming out on Valentine’s Day that we can go see. Then I’ll take you to a bakery— we can have cake for dinner! Then I’d walk you back home and kiss you at the doorstep just like in the movies— hey, why are you crying?” He lost the boyish excitement in his voice.

He ran around your desk and kneeled in front of you, grabbing both armrests on either side of you. You wiped at your tears furiously, “I’m sorry,” you tried to laugh through the tears, “‘m just emotional I guess.”

It was kind of silly. A few days ago you never even considered that dating Bokuto Koutarou was a possibility, and now here you were, crying over him.

“You’re such a sweetheart Koutarou and I am so sorry for not realizing you liked me sooner. I would have never let it drag on for that long if I had known.”

God, he was just staring at you with these big puppy eyes that just stabbed your heart.

“Because-Because you like me back?” He sounded so hopeful.

”Because I think this part would have hurt less. I’m not—We’re not compatible,” you said, staring into those puppy eyes, “I can’t give you what you need. You’re such a strong Alpha Koutarou, you need an Omega that’ll know how to take care of you the only way an Omega knows how to. I can’t do that as a Beta.”

”But… I don’t care about things like that. It’s never bothered me that you’re a Beta, I can still be a good Alpha to you— we can figure out how to make it work,” he replied sadly, hand inching towards your own on the armrest. “Does this have to do with Ushiwaka. Ami told us he said something to you back then. She said you stopped pursuing a relationship after his rejection.”

You sighed, of course she told him.

”Yes,” you admitted, “He said some things that at the time really hurt but I think… he was right.”

”How can he be right when what he said is making you so sad.”

You sniffled again, wrapping your arms around Bokuto in a hug, to which he followed suit. You figured professionalism was out the door the moment he asked you out yesterday. “Thank you Koutarou. If… If I was an Omega or even if we met a few years earlier I wouldn’t have even hesitated going out with you. But I just can’t.”

It hurt knowing that the first man that was offering something you’ve wanted for so long was someone you’d also have to turn down.

”Then I’ll wait until you can.”

“I’m begging you Koutarou, for both our sakes…” you murmured into his shoulder, ”Please don’t.”

You loved love.

”I…” His arms tightened around you, voice dripping in a sadness you hadn’t thought he was even capable of, “Okay, if that’s what you really want then… I’ll stop.”

But it wasn’t meant for you.

————————————————————————

Part 4

Taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02 @tillyt04 @/niiiya @/silverhairsimp

#Alpha Bokuto koutarou #alpha Bokuto #Bokuto koutarou #Bokuto #alpha bokuto koutarou x reader #alpha Bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu omegaverse #omegaverse

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word-wytch · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 10

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 10/? 4.6k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Progress report — subtle strides in secret and deals not forgotten.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: flirting, rule breaking, mild exploration through touch, cheating mention

Monday, November 11th 1985

The fog was lifting in you.

You could tell when the laundry beckoned to be folded after weeks of neglect. When the act of folding it was something you wanted to do.

When the boxes that had become part of the scenery in your living room suddenly seemed like they didn’t belong there. When you wanted to cook more than just things you could put in a microwave.

You would wake up on the weekend and ask yourself what you wanted to do with the little free time you had in the space between the chores, and the errands, and the papers you had to grade. You would ask yourself what records you wanted to listen to instead of just turning on the radio to fill the space with noise. Instead of exhausting them all without consideration.

You had been asking yourself a lot of questions over the last two weeks. The loudest of them all — What am I doing?

You would ask yourself this question every morning as you brushed on your makeup and felt more beautiful than you could remember, even since before your life came crashing down this summer.

You would ask yourself again as you sifted through your closet, as the hangers screeched against the metal pole to dig out a dress from the back that you hadn’t worn in ages. Cream colored linen, tea length, with short puff sleeves, a square neckline, and buttons down the front. It tapered at the banded waist and flowed outward in an A line.

The question would rattle like a pinball in your mind as you stamped your punch card in the main office. As the receptionist complimented the dress that you had on.

It would sit like a weight in your stomach as you made small talk with the other teachers. As you sat in one of the old scratchy chairs in the teachers’ lounge that suddenly bothered you less and opened the lunch you found the energy to pack again.

It would echo in your thoughts like the clicking of your footsteps down the hallway.

What am I doing?

It was a question you didn’t know the answer to.

All you knew was when the wind caught your dress from the haste you made toward your classroom, the smile you stole from him as you passed brought silence to it. That the way he looked at you made all noise, all else, cease. That it made you feel as timeless as he said you were.

There was a change in him too. It was subtle, as all things were in your relationship with Eddie Munson, but ever since some force beyond yourself possessed you to utter even the barest inkling of your feelings, he was bolder.

He would sit very close to you, oftentimes with his shoulder angled behind you. An action equally as thrilling as it was terrifying. He had done this before on a few prior occasions but never like this. Never for this long.

He always took his jacket off so you could feel his arm graze against yours as he reached to turn a page or grab a pencil.

He would do these things so often that there was a quiet, secret part of you that wondered whether it was time to rearrange your classroom so that your desk was out of sight of the doorway. You shot the thought down the moment it intruded. As long as the desk was within eyeshot, you could ration that the possibility of being seen would hold you both accountable and encourage good behavior. That was what you told yourself anyway.

The problem was that Eddie Munson wasn’t that concerned with good behavior.

Every time he sat beside you, your eyes, in the closeness of his proximity, would find another feature to admire.

Today it was the rips in his jeans. The way you could see his skin straining against the slits in the fabric. How your eyes could gather the strong angles of his kneecaps and for some reason, this was doing things to you. You would steal glances at them, down and to your right, as he leaned forward in his seat next to you.

It was always next to you. It had been for the past two weeks.

He pointed at a drawing of a humanoid demon looking creature with horns and a tail in the monster manual laid out in front of you on top of his history textbook.

“So this is the tiefling race, which is what I played years ago before I took over as DM. I was a tiefling bard, which is like a sort of, uh, musician spellcaster.”

That was another change — how frequently he would get off topic, and how often you would let him.

“Very true to life then,” you said with a little chuckle.

His lips curled into a hardened smirk to smother a blinding grin.

“You think so?” There was a whisper of pink in his cheeks.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” you said breathlessly.

Then he did something he hadn’t done before — he put his arm around the back of your chair.

The animal inside you preened.

Heart racing, you turned your head ever so slightly, allowing your eyes to trace the barely there stubble that peppered his jaw before they wandered to his lips — soft, broad, and still smirking. You were close enough to feel the delicate hairs that strayed from his wild curls brush your cheek. Close enough to feel the warmth radiate from his arm against the linen of your back, like a bubble of protection, or some other magic found in the pages sprawled out before you.

It was hard to think of anything else but you managed. “What do you think I would play?”

“Mmm.” His hum was a warm vibration at your ear. It sent a ripple to your core. Ringed fingers drummed against the back of your seat. “Well, an elf, obviously,” he chuckled. “As for class, let’s see…”

You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, scanning you as the gears turned in his head. It was quiet in the room, and in the hallway. Quiet enough to hear your heartbeat in your ears. You wondered if he could too.

“See I wanna say wizard because they get their magic from reading books, but…”

You raised your eyebrows playfully. “But?”

“I think you’re more of a healing type."

“Oh yeah?” Your soft chuckle filled the silence and you allowed yourself, for just a moment, to relax a little bit. To lean into the warmth of his strong shoulder, enveloped in the safety of the secret you both shared. You could catch his scent from this position more than ever. The warm musk emanating from under his arm. The whisper of shampoo and cigarettes. That soft, indescribable scent of his skin. It almost made you dizzy.

“Yeah, like a cleric, only they get their power from worshiping deities and… I don’t know if that’s really you either.”

You hummed. “Where do you think I get my power from then?”

His voice was soft but certain when he answered. “Within.”

Flutters — straight to your core.

“Maybe that makes you more of a sorcerer then,” he pondered, tipping his head towards you. His breath feathered your cheeks, lids heavy over deep chocolate eyes.

You met them with a breathy chuckle, feeling so girlish all of a sudden. As if suddenly you were not behind the big desk, but a much smaller one.

The pads of his fingers brushed your arm. So delicately that at first you thought it was just a consequence of their proximity, but when they began to trace tentative, tickling circles, it was evidently intentional.

You swallowed, your skin beneath his touch like a livewire. Every delicate hair on your arm picking up on the movements of his calloused pads, amplifying them like a radio signal straight to the animal part of you.

He held you in his gaze, eyes wide like a question. But when the corners of your mouth gave way, gave their soft permission, the corners of his did as well. As did the corners of his eyes, crinkling in that way you loved so much.

His fingers got braver. The circles widened into strokes. His thumb got involved. Still, you could feel his heart pounding into your shoulder. Feel the nerves emanating from under his touch. Feel the want, the care, the ache, the frustration.

It might have been seconds. Minutes. A small, stolen eternity.

Until a voice echoed in the hallway. Suddenly there was that question again — triggered like a pinball machine, loud and intrusive as it rattled in your mind. Your eyes shot towards the door. His followed.

Eddie took his arm away, and you wondered if the strangled whine that left your chest was audible to him too.

Silence prickled the space between you, ears attuned to the noise coming closer. Eddie’s eyes were fixed on the door, his strong brows furrowed in what you could only interpret as annoyance. The voices grew louder, then passed, fading into distant echos.

The footsteps left behind an ache. Palpable, pervasive. Eddie sighed and looked at you, to which you could only respond with a resigned huff of your own. You must have looked as pitiful as you felt, because what he did next took you by surprise. It always did, even if this time it was something he had done before.

He reached under the desk and grabbed your hand.

It didn’t matter that he’d held your hand before. It didn’t matter even if he’d held it a hundred times. Your heart still leapt in your chest. The pinballs still fired off inside your head with lights and sound effects.

But when his warm thumb rubbed circles over your icy knuckles, slow and deliberate, soothing and caring, the sounds got muffled. The flashing dimmed. Until there was nothing but a landscape of bones, and tendons, and the meat of his soft palm. Nothing but the valleys of the space between his fingers when they ventured further than they had ever gone before — in the spaces between yours.

Your back might have arched. Your eyes might have rolled back into your head if you hadn’t closed them so quickly. You wouldn’t know because the only thing you were aware of anymore was the velvet interior of the space between Eddie’s fingers. How they filled the space between yours in a warm, comfortable stretch.

There was a line and both of you had crossed it. Held hands and jumped over it like a broom. You knew it, he knew it. There was no going back. And knowing this, there was another question you had been asking yourself for the past two weeks — how far would you go?

Would it stop at holding hands? Eddie wasn’t exactly the patient type. You’d spent enough time with him to know that much.

You opened your eyes to the classroom. Your classroom. To the rows of desks lined up like soldiers. To the chalkboards, and bulletin boards, and concrete walls. To the big desk in front of you. To the open door.

Pinballs again. Ricocheting like thunder. Your pulse in your ears, your stomach in your seat.

You glanced down at your hands intertwined, hidden from sight in the shadow of the large, looming desk. You admired how the heel of his hand cradled yours. How perfectly they fit together. The way your forearm rested against his, warm and soft. How secure it made you feel. There was a tug in your heart, deep and thrumming. You squeezed his hand for one more precious second… and let it go.

“I— I think we should, um,” you swallowed and gingerly shut the monster manual. The ache was back, shooting through your chest like daggers.

Eddie looked at you, the loss of your hand palpable in the subtle pain of his expression. “Right,” he said plainly. There was a knowing there too, an understanding that replaced it more quickly than you expected.

He scratched behind his neck with the hand you could still feel the ghost of. “So it’s uh, progress report day.” You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going somewhere with this.

You raised your eyebrows. “I’m well aware.”

He tipped his head towards you. “I believe we had an agreement.”

“Oh?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remind me.”

Eddie reached into the pocket of the jacket that hung on his seat and procured a paper folded into thirds. “You told me that if I got a B in any of my classes that you would let me read one of your stories.”

Your eyes widened. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

He squinted smugly. “You did.”

You glanced toward your grading binder on the upper lefthand corner of the desk and grabbed it, “If I’m not mistaken though, you have B- in my class,” you said, thumbing through the pages to find fourth period. “Yeah, see?” you pointed to it. “Technically not a B, all those missed assignments from September still count I’m afraid,” your voice was playful.

Eddie’s mouth curled into mischievous little grin as he opened the paper in his hands, “Oh I’m not talking about your class. I believe the agreement was for one class. Any of my classes.” He pointed to a line on the page. “I got a B in shop class.”

You leaned closer, honing in on the clearly printed B above his finger. “It’s — it’s still not the final report, just a progress report.”

“It’s still an official report,” he said smugly.

It was almost as if he could see the gears turning in your head, the dread setting into your features.

“See, I’ve kept the promises I’ve made so far,” he brought a hand to his chest, “I think it’s only fair that you make good on yours,” he said, squinting again.

You sighed. “Fine. I’ll bring it in on Wednesday. But… it’s— it’s not totally finished. There’s still quite a bit of editing that needs to be done and—“

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. More than fine. Captivating, actually, if it’s anything like the author.” His smile was tinted with childish excitement. His eyes with a warmth made you shiver.

You tucked your hair behind your ear to distract from the heat creeping into your cheeks. “It’s been forever since I’ve even looked at it to be honest. Years actually.”

“Glad to give you an excuse then.”

______

It was a typical Tuesday night.

A typical night of the flimsy windows in Gareth’s tidy garage trembling at the raw, unhinged, cranked-up-to-eleven power of Corroded Coffin.

“Hand of Doom” was cleaning up nicely. Dave’s bassline was solid. Gareth’s drums were neat and timely. Jeff was nailing the chord progression. Eddie’s vocals were well equipped to handle Ozzy’s range.

You’re having a good time baby

But that won’t last

Your mind’s all full of things

You’re living too fast

Go out and enjoy yourself

Don’t bottle it in

You need someone to help you

Stick the needle in

There was a perfect balance of space for his vocals to breathe over the walking bassline, then crescendo into pure instrumental power.

A power he could feel as he attacked the strings. An agency at his fingertips as they tapped out a howling melody over the chugging chords laid out for him by Jeff and Dave, over Gareth’s thundering kick drum.

A power that could sweep him up and away, carry him far from the crushing weight of the stares of his classmates, far from the looks of disappointment on the faces of the other teachers, far from the heaviness of his feelings.

Swept away in a wave of sound, there was only space in his hindbrain for the patterns his fingers made on the fretboard. For his breath to leave his chest in wailing song.

The last chord of rung out through Gareth’s garage with a thunderous rattle.

All four of them looked at each other with smiles and nods. Gareth banged out an extra drum fill. Jeff chugged out approving strums.

They were ready to take it to the Hideout.

“Nice work, gentleman,” Eddie shouted into the mic, met with whoops and hollers. “I think we’re ready for another, whaddya say, boys?”

More hollers and drum fills.

“How ‘bout Ace of Spades?” offered Jeff.

“No, Symphony of Destruction,” countered Gareth.

Eddie noodled out a mindless melody. “I dunno I’m thinking War Pigs.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “We just did Sabbath, dude.”

“Yeah, we just did Sabbath well,” Eddie pressed.

“Why don’t we do something different, like a Rush song or something?” suggested Dave.

Gareth snorted. “Rush isn’t metal. We’re a metal band, dude.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you couldn’t handle a Rush song anyway.”

“Could too, asswipe. You know what, yeah, let’s do Rush. I wanna see those fat fingers of yours fingers of yours find their way around the bassline,” Gareth laughed.

“Shut up!” Eddie hollered. “Everyone just think about it and we can vote on Saturday. We’ve got like half an hour before we’ve gotta leave anyway.”

“I can’t Saturday, remember? Me and Cindy are going to a movie.”

A low ooh emanated from the guys.

“What ‘cha end up picking?” asked Jeff.

“Back to the Future. Cindy still hasn’t seen it.”

Dave balked. “Seriously? Does she live under a rock? It’s been out since like, July, dude.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Yeah, seriously. Cindy doesn’t go to a lot of movies, she’s into like… books and stuff,” he said, a touch of pride colored his voice.

“Ooh so cultured,” Dave taunted.

“Dude shut up, you’re just jealous ‘cause I have a date. I feel like that’s a good one though, right? I mean it’s got action and a sorta romance but it’s not too serious?”

Jeff shrugged, “Yeah I dunno, do girls like those kinds of movies?”

Gareth gave a puff of air through his nose. “Depends on the girl, they don’t have a hivemind, Jeff.”

Dave snorted. “Like you know anything about girls.”

“More than you!”

Dave rolled his eyes. “You got one date you haven’t even been on yet — doesn’t make you an expert.”

That’s when three of them turned to look at Eddie.

Eddie glanced around nervously, “What?”

“You’ve like… been with girls before, right?” asked Jeff.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, yeah.”

Truthfully, Eddie would hardly consider himself an expert on women. But in a garage full of virgins, his few summer flings would render him one by default.

“Yeah, haven’t you like,” Dave raised his eyebrows suggestively, “Done it?” He gestured with his hands, his index finger moving in and out of the circle he made with his other.

The boys erupted in wheezing cackles.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah I’ve done it,” he said, heat creeping up his neck.

“Ok then, so like, what should Gareth do on his date?” asked Jeff.

“Yeah what should Gareth do to… you know,” Dave chuckled lewdly.

Gareth scoffed. “Dude I’m not trying to score on the first date. Cindy’s not like that. Besides, I’m not a total sleazeball.”

By Gareth’s definition, Eddie certainly would be. He could count the number of actual dates he’d had on less than one hand. The number of girls he’d slept with on about the same. Actually, it was rare that a date coincided. There was the girl he met at a carnival the summer he turned 17. That was short-lived. Then there was another girl who spent July with her grandma at the trailer park. He was 19 then. They would fool around in the woods outside of Forest Hills before she moved on too. That winter he would meet another at the Hideout, just passing though. She never even called him back. Could he really consider any of them dates?

The boys quarreled amongst themselves and Eddie found his thoughts drifting as they always did — to you. The truth was he had no idea what he was doing. What he did know was how good it felt to be next to you. To touch you. To hear your thoughts on anything at all. To lace his fingers between yours and watch the sigh as it left your body. To pretend that you were his for one stolen moment.

What he did know was that he wanted to take you on a date. Like a real, proper date. He wanted to buy you flowers and open doors for you. He wanted to sit down across from you over dinner, to see your smile in a candlelit glow, to pay for it at the end.

What he did know was that he’d never felt this way about anyone before. What he also knew was that he could do absolutely none of these things with you in public.

But he did know what he wanted.

“I dunno, man. Just like, buy her a ticket, get her some popcorn, be a real person,” Eddie offered finally.

“And get a spot in the back of the theater so you can —” Dave turned around, moving his hands up and down his body like he was making out with his bass.

Gareth threw a drumstick at him.

______

It was a typical Tuesday night.

A typical night of coming home later than you wanted after a pointless faculty meeting.

The breath you took in the crisp air outside the door to your apartment was deep and ragged as you turned the key. You could still feel the tacky chalk on your fingers as you pressed open the door. The echos of the questions you would answer over and over to raised hands still ringing in your mind. The adrenaline still coursing through your chest, tight and constricting. The mask that still weighed heavy on your face.

You shut the door behind you and removed your boots, and the mask.

The sun was going down already. Dim and quiet. Not a single sound for your tired voice to fight anymore.

It was nothing like your house in Indianapolis, the old craftsman bungalow that you had loved so dearly. A real house with character and charm. A kitchen with a big gas stove, and a dishwasher, and actual counter space. A dining room with a table big enough to host Thanksgiving.

It was a place would never have been able to afford on your own. Not on your meager teaching salary. Not in a city like that.

You might have been able to afford something small here in Hawkins, if you’d saved for it long enough. One of those little one-story shoebox homes built in the 50s near the neighborhood you grew up in. But buying a house just felt so permanent.

You hung your keys on the hook by the door. There was no character in the plain white walls of the entryway. None you could gather in the hall leading past the nook of your kitchen into the wood paneled confines of your living room. No space for a dining room table.

But the carpet still cradled your aching feet. There were still your records, and posters, and television exactly where you left them. There were still your books overflowing on the meager shelves you were able to squeeze into your bedroom. You couldn’t take the built-in craftsman cabinets with you when you moved. There was a lot you couldn’t take with you, and other things you wished you could have left.

There was one box you hadn’t unpacked yet. It was sitting in your closet, pushed back into the corner under summer dresses and winter coats. It was a box you hadn’t even unpacked at your old place in Indianapolis. One of those boxes that traveled with you from place to place ever since you packed your dorm room up for the final time your senior year.

Sliding open the slatted wood door, you reached under the clothing and dragged it out into your bedroom. It was not that big, but it was heavy.

You sat cross-legged on the carpet and hooked your fingers under the cardboard, folded in on itself to keep it shut without tape. It took a good tug to untuck one of the panels. Dust powdered the air as it sprung open.

It was hard to remember the last time you’d opened it, let alone everything that was inside. You sifted through the contents as the memories returned to you.

There were a few notebooks, an old journal, a few Polaroid photos you had forgotten about. Just you and your roommate doing stupid poses, hanging off of the bunk bed you shared like children.

There were many things that were more or less junk. Things that at the time of packing you just couldn’t seem to part with, like an old party hat from your roommate’s 21st birthday — crumpled and creased under the weight of time. You remembered decorating it with her and your other friends at the table in the common room. You all looked ridiculous wearing them on the town, going from bar to bar, your bright colored hats standing out like beacons against the backdrop of the January snow.

There were other things — a few postcards from friends brave enough to study abroad. A folded world map that once hung in the living room of your first apartment, the one you scrounged for with your best friend. In hindsight it was even smaller than the one you had now, and it had two bedrooms. It felt big to you then.

That was before you met Dan.

Before you settled into the craftsman he’d purchased in the historic part of town. Settled into routines and scheduled fancy date nights. Settled into planned family outings and weekends home in Hawkins where he would surprise your mother with news of his promotion at the law firm over dinner. News of the computer he’d purchased for you. News of your engagement.

Before you added more things to the box. Things that didn’t fit into you schedule anymore. Before you’d moved it here.

Before he left behind an ice in you.

There was one thing in the box that you expected to find. It was a black three-ring binder. Unassuming, but most important.

You cracked it open and stared down at the first page of your novel, quietly bracing yourself for the contents. It had been ages since you’d looked at it. You wondered if the years of separation between the you of the present and the you who wrote it would determine whether it was actually any good or not. In your memory it was.

You thumbed through the pages, silently critiquing your choice of verbs, your lack of variety in the dialogue tags, how tangibly painful it was for you to set scenes.

The story was there though. That was the thing that mattered most. The verbs could be changed, better tags could be added, the scenes could be more fleshed out. But the story held water.

Most distinctly of all, you remembered the thrill of writing it. The rush of being flooded with ideas. The hours you would spend in the car that flew by in a vivid daydream on the weekends you visited Hawkins. How every song on the radio seemed to fit the telling of your story.

There was a dreaming taking root in you again. Yesterday. Now. For the past two weeks. You felt it like the rush of wind that caught your dress as you glided down the hallway. The airy softness that pervaded your thoughts and made you want to dance.

You thought about the last time you felt this way.

The last time you did something for you and only you.

The last time you pursued what it was you really wanted.

______

A/N: You didn’t think I was going to leave Chekov’s unfinished novel sitting on the mantle did you?? ;)

A technical note — the tiefling race wasn’t introduced to the game until 1994 but we’re going to ignore that because I think it’s really fitting for Eddie. :)

As always, I deeply appreciate any and all comments -- keyboard smashing, theories, small novels, all of it. Hearing your reactions to my story fuels me in ways that I can only begin to tell you.

Please reblog and help others to find my precious creation! ✨

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @newlips @kasbite @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @wordscomehither @munson-blurbs @blue-mossbird @alottanothing @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @ruby-dragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me

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succcession · 2 years ago

Text

Lunch Break

Kendall Roy x f!reader (smut) 800 word count

Summary: To the point office sex with soft dom!Kendall

“What’s on your mind?” Kendall questioned as his eyes studied you laying out various fast food items across his desk.

Today was one of the rare moments when Kendall had asked you to bring him lunch, instead of just completely skipping it or having Jess throw him a protein bar.

“Oh hmm nothing, just happy to spend time with you.” you hummed, returning a sweet smile to his gaze. You always cherished these little moments when kendall let you completely into his life. It was also nice when he needed you for something. He could probably have lunch delivered from anywhere on the planet, and yet… he chose you.

“Come here” Kendall's face beamed instantly, flashing you his typically toothy grin as he gestured to his lap.

You swiftly moved from around his desk, easily settling into his lap with your ass on his thigh as he cradled you. Your hand reached up to stroke the rough stubble forming on his cheek with your thumb. He leaves a light kiss on your palm and whispers “missed you.” before attaching his lips to your chest leaving wet kisses across your collarbone.

“Babe you haven’t even eaten yet,” you exclaimed, reaching for a french fry from his desk. “You’re not gonna have any time” you pout, placing the fry in his mouth.

“You’re probably right.” Kendall says sternly, slowly standing and easing you gently from his lap back onto your feet.

“But you can’t just walk in here. Sit in my lap. And not expect to get fucked”

His hands waist no time in reaching for your hips. His tight grip turning you around and his fingers working to push your skirt up around your waist, exposing your ass. You gasp as the cold air and rough feel of his fingers brushing against your thong, while he spreads your thighs. The empty space between your legs, warm, already yearning to be filled. His hands smoothed over your ass, grabbing a handful and massaging roughly, before leaving a light slap.

“Ken!” you yelp as his hand runs over the red flesh.

“Shhh..” he is hushing as he presses his chest against your back, grinding his covered bulge into your ass. “Don’t want anyone to hear.”

Your waist is quickly bent over his desk as he uses his weight to push you forward. The clinking sound of his belt and his hot breath hitting your ear is more than enough to have your pussy dripping and Kendall can instantly tell when he rubs the head of his cock along your slick folds.

“Always so fucking wet for me.” He groaned out. Shuffling his feet between yours to spread your legs further for him. You stifled the loud moans desperate to leave your mouth. Letting out a breathy “just for you”. You could hear the pornographic sounds of his dick spreading your wetness, while his tip continued teasing your slit.

Kendall breathed out a soft “love you” as he finally pushed himself into you. He always had a habit of letting his emotional side slip, but those simple words caused you to completely relax into him. Pushing your ass back and further onto his cock, stopping briefly as he bottomed out. He thrust his hips into your ass as his hands held tightly to your hips, forcing you to feel every inch of him inside your walls as his head twitched at your cervix. His slow yet deep pace leaving you breathless and searching for something to grasp as the burning sensation of stretching for his large cock turned to pure pleasure. He quickly moved his arms to wrap his hands around your fingers, placing them together behind your back. The loss of control forcing you to fully submit to his brutal thrusts.

“Oh god, oh fuck, feels so good” you whimper as his swollen balls slapping against your skin, stimulating your pussy even more. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself tightening around his cock, feeling like you could cum at any second. “I’m so close Ken, I’m gonna.”

“Cum baby, cum for me” he mewls in your ear maintaining his pace, as his hands finally leave yours. One moving to rub rough circles on your clit, while the other grips your thigh tightly. Making sure your legs stay open wide for him as your pleasure builds and they begin to shake.

Your orgasm floods through your body as your pussy pulses around Kendall. Despite your efforts to suppress your moans, loud yelps leave your lips as your repeat “fuck” unable to form any other thoughts from the cock high buzzing in your brain.

“Good girl, it's okay, I got you baby” he cooed, talking you through your orgasm.

You can feel your overstimulated pussy attempting to push Kendalls cock out along with more wetness. However, he continues fucking into you pushing his body against you as close as he can, chasing his own high. You felt your knees beginning buckle and your brain going numb. The sharp desk meeting your hips as you quivered beneath him.

"You can take. Just a little more." His rough groans switching to gentle whimpers as his cock twitched against your walls, releasing his cum deeply inside. His weight collapsed onto you, your cheek met with the cold wood of the desk as you both breathed out your high.

“Promise to bring me lunch more often?”

#kendall roy #kendall roy smut #kendall roy x reader #succession season 4 #succession smut #succession headcanons #kendall roy x you #succession #kendall roy oneshot

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stardustcatcher · 2 years ago

Text

TLC

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: danny being the absolute sweetest most best boyfriend in the world, nudity of the nonsexual variety, reader has a really bad day so not quite angst but stress (?), self indulgent mediocre writing, i mean it danny's a sweetheart in this one proceed with caution (let me know if I missed anything please)

AN: i've got a lot on my plate recently and i've been stressing, the only way i haven't gone insane so far is daydreaming and imagining some caring and comforting boyfriend danny, so that's what this is. i hope you all enjoy and as always, all feedback is welcomed, appreciated, and encouraged :) i love you all <3

taglist

It was a bad day. An absolutely horrible, awful, terrible, disastrously bad day. You’d known it would be from the moment you’d woken up in an empty bed, Danny already out the door and in the studio with the band, his side of the bed had long grown cold. The only evidence he’d ever been there was a note laying on your endtable. It read: “Had to leave early, you looked so peaceful and I didn’t want to wake you. Go be great and have a good day. Love Danny xoxo”.

You wished you could’ve listened to the note’s instructions, but as soon as you opened your eyes after being ripped from sleep by your alarm’s unbearable racket you’d felt the gray gloomy cloud over your head. That really set the tone for the day.

It would’ve been nice if things had gone up from there, but of course they didn’t. You’d forgotten your coffee before you left the house and there was a wreck on the road as you made your way to work, causing all sorts of traffic making you nearly an hour late. Needless to say, that didn’t make your boss very happy. Then there was the pile of work waiting on your desk, all needing your attention and to be dealt with before you went home. When lunch came around, you had barely made a dent in what needed to get done, so you ate at your desk and texted Danny, hoping he was doing better than you.

There was a hesitant feeling to share your grievances with your loving boyfriend, you didn’t want to feel like a burden or put a damper on his day just because yours wasn’t going well. So you kept silent, after all, there was still time for the day to turn around. Maybe you could blow through the rest of your work and still be home at a reasonable hour.

“Stupid of me to think that,” You scolded yourself as six o’clock rolled around and you had just started to gather your things to leave. There were still dozens of emails to be answered but they’d have to wait until tomorrow, you couldn’t stand spending another minute at work when you could be comfortably cuddled with Danny. Just knowing he was waiting for you made you feel a tiny bit better.

As if he could hear you thinking about him, your phone rang and his contact photo lit up the screen. It was one of the two of you taken by Jake at a bar, Danny’s lips smushed against your cheek while you beamed happily at the camera, no posed smile just pure uninhibited joy. “Hey, beautiful, you on your way home?” Danny’s voice asked when you answered the call. You could hear music in the background and practically picture the smile on his face.

“Yeah, babe, on my way out of the office now,” You sighed, hiking your bag higher up on your shoulder as you walked out of the building towards your car.

“Just now? You’re usually home by now?” he questioned, voice filling with concern. You could imagine the crease forming between his furrowed brows, one you’d usually run your thumb over to soften out. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a rough day,” You ran your hand down your face, feeling the weight of the day rest heavy on your shoulders. “I’ll be home in twenty,” you put the key in the ignition and started your car.

“Alright, honey. I’ll be here when you get home. Drive safe, I love you,” Danny says.

“Will do, I love you too,” You huff as you hang up the phone, wishing that teleportation was possible and you could be in Danny’s embrace with the blink of an eye. You drive home in silence, feeling as though music would be overwhelming to your already fragile state.

Luckily the ride home is much quicker than the drive to work was, and before you know it, you’re pulling into the driveway of the home you share with your boyfriend. You see his car parked next to yours, the porch light on but no lights in the house on. You’re slightly confused, but your brain hurts too much to think anything of it.

As you turn off the car and get out, Danny opens the front door. He looks radiant as ever, long and dark curly tresses pulled up in a haphazard bun, his Church of Rock and Roll shirt stretched across his toned chest, and a pair of black sweatpants hung low across his hips. If you had the energy, you’d absolutely jump him.

He holds his arms out in invitation as you walk towards the front door. When you meet him, he takes your bag from your hand before tugging you inside and wrapping you in his warm and strong arms. You practically melt into him, knees going a little bit weak as you take in his scent. He smells woodsy from the cologne he uses and a little bit fruity from the shampoo he likes. He smells like Danny and home.

His large hand runs over your head as he sways you both back and forth, letting you take all the love and comfort you need from him. “Hi, my gorgeous girl,” he grins when you finally pull back. You give him a halfhearted smile in return as he cups your face in his hands. A soft and gentle kiss is pressed against your lips and you chase them when he pulls away. “I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he pouts, seeming genuinely upset. But that’s Danny, too good for the world.

“It’s not your fault,” you hum when his thumb caresses your cheek, relishing in the touch you’d been longing for all day.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry,” he presses his lips to your forehead, letting them linger before he shoots you another dazzling smile. “C’mon, I’ ve got a surprise for you,” he hangs your bag and keys up by the door before taking your hand and leading you to your shared bedroom. He stopped once he reached the closed door to the master bathroom and he dropped your hand and spun around to face you, pretty eyes sparkling in the dim lights. “Okay, now you have to close your eyes.”

“Danny…” you trailed off, head tilted to the side with furrowed brows.

“Just trust me, okay? You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life,” you relent and shut your eyes, covering them with your hands for good measure. You could hear him giggle and the sound of the bathroom door opening before he moved behind you and grabbed your upper arms. Danny guided you into the bathroom and pressed himself against you, chin resting on your shoulder as he released your arms.

“Open your eyes,” he said softly, no louder than a whisper. You uncovered your eyes and almost immediately bursted into tears. The bathroom seemed completely different than you had ever seen it.

Tealights and scented candles lit up the space, casting the room in a soft orange glow. The tub was steaming, filled with fragrant oils. The sound of soft music played from the speaker set on the sink, next to it sat a tray with bottles of your favorite shampoo, conditioner, and body wash that was only broken out when you really wanted to treat yourself. “Danny, you did this all for me?” you whispered, turning around in his hold. Your eyes were teary, full of love and appreciation for your lover. You could feel the stress of the horrible day nearly melt off at just the sight of what he did just for you.

“Of course I did, beautiful. You had a bad day, I’d say that warrants some pampering. Not that I need a reason to give my favorite girl some TLC,” Danny smiled, swiping his thumb under your eye to catch the wayward tear that had fallen. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you gave a teary chuckle, grabbing his face and planting a firm kiss on his lips, hoping to convey all the love and gratefulness you felt for him through it. “But I love you more.”

“I love you too, honey,” he laughed. “Now get undressed, I’m gonna get you some water because I guarantee you didn’t drink enough today. Then I’ll come back and wash your hair for you, how does that sound?”

“Like a dream,” you smiled. He pecked your forehead before leaving the bathroom, closing the door to give you the privacy to strip.

As you shed your clothes you could feel the weight of the day get lighter and lighter, each article of clothing gone making it easier to breathe. Once your clothes were discarded in the hamper in the corner, you slowly sank into the hot water, sighing in content as your muscles decompressed. Leaning back into the steaming bath, you let your eyes close and gave your body a chance to finally rest. You were so at ease that you barely heard the bathroom door opening again.

“Don’t you look relaxed,” Danny hummed, walking to you with a bottle of water in hand. “Feeling a little better.”

“So much better,” you smiled at him, head lolling to the side as you looked at him. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling overwhelmighly thankful that you were able to bag such an angel of a man. He was sweet, kind, selfless, and not to mention the most handsome god-like man you’d ever laid eyes upon. You were so lucky to have him. Tears welled up in your eyes again at the sheer amount of affection and love you held for the beautiful soul in front of you. “You’re too good to me, Danny.”

“No such thing, baby. Drink,” Danny shook his head, kneeling beside the tub and handing you the now opened water bottle. “You deserve everything good in the world. Now, gimme that and tilt your head back,” he took the water bottle from you before grabbing the small cup that sat in the shower caddy in the corner for occasions just like this one.

You tipped your head back as Danny filled the cup up with bathwater before he tilted it over your hair, unoccupied hand resting on your forehead to shield your face from the water. He took such care lathering the shampoo into your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp and carefully rinsing the soap from your hair. He did the same with the conditioner, knowing exactly how to care for it properly with knowledge from his own vigorous hair routine. Once your hair was rinsed for the final time, he pressed a kiss to your wet cheek and stood.

“You soak in here, do whatever you have to do. I’m gonna run your towel in the dryer for a little while so it's nice and warm when you come out and I’ll order us some dinner. Chinese sound good?” He asked, running a hand over your wet hair.

“Sounds amazing,” you can’t help but smile brightly at him, the stress of the day fully dissipated.

“There’s that gorgeous smile. Take your time, honey,” he said before leaving, shutting the door behind him again, leaving you smiley and absolutely in love.

You washed your body with the washcloth and your expensive body ways and soaked in the tub for twenty more minutes until the water went cold and your fingers pruned. Just as you pulled the stopper, Danny walked in again with the towel that had been warmed up in the dryer. “How’d you know I was done?” you asked, stepping out of the tub as Danny opened the towel. You stepped into him and he wrapped you up tightly in the warmed fabric.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve got a sixth sense about you or something,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “I set some clothes out on the bed for you. Finish up here, put those on, snuggle up, and I’ll bring the food in.”

Once your nightime routine was finished, you shuffled into the bedroom and pulled on the pajamas Danny had set out for you. Your comfiest pair of pajama pants, and a sweatshirt Danny had that even swallowed him whole—it was a favorite of yours. You tucked yourself under the comforter and turned on the TV, putting on Netflix and your favorite movie. Moments later Danny came in, huge bag of Chinese take-out in hand. “How’d you know I had a movie in mind?” he asked, setting the bag of food on his bedside table.

“Dunno, maybe I’ve got a sixth sense about you or something,” you parroted his earlier words as he passed your food to you.

“Cheeky,” he giggled, hopping into bed right next to you, grabbing his own food and tugging you close.

As you both ate, movie playing in the background, you stole glances at your amazingly fantastic boyfriend, just wondering how you got so lucky to have him. “I really appreciate what you did for me,” you mumbled, head falling on his shoulder. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, honey,” Danny looked down at you with a look of love in his eye. An absolutely horrible, awful, terrible, disastrously bad day had turned into a good night.

taglist: @mintysammykiszka @peachpitpearls @alexxavicry @spark-my-nature @angelbabyyy99

#danny wagner x reader #danny wagner imagine #danny wagner fluff #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf fanfiction #greta van fluff #greta van fic #babby writes #greta van fleet #danny wagner #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #sam kiszka

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plussizefantasia · 2 years ago

Note

hey lovely. i was hoping you could write me a story thing on carlisle cullen where he is the readers doctor and plus sized but she is insecure as hell and gets laughed at by some people in the waiting room at the dr office and she gets really insecure. and he makes it better some how? It would mean alot. thank you! please!

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x F!PlusSize!reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: insecure reader, fatphobia, people being assholes, takes place in a hospital

A/N: I totally used this as a way to procrastinate all the work I had to do this weekend and I’m just now realizing that I kind of misread the request, oops! I think this is pretty great though, not gonna lie. Once again, comments are appreciated!

____________________________________________________________

You didn’t often visit Carlisle at work, but occasionally, and most importantly when you missed him you’d find the time to make it over there and have lunch with him. Not that he’d be eating. This day was no different, despite the fact that you had woken up with him by your side and it had only been a few hours, you missed him terribly. Thus, you had made plans with your boss to take a longer lunch break than normal and picked up a sandwich from the diner on the way to the hospital.

Part of the reason you loved Carlise was his ability to make you feel loved, wholly and completely. He didn’t look past your size, he loved it.

“Your body just shows me the life you’ve lived darling, your softness reminds me that you are human and I love it, I love you,” He’d said when you asked him about it one time. In the moments when you couldn’t understand why he had chosen you, why he’d keep you around when you thought you’d never be able to be as smooth as his kind. They were all beautiful and flawless and you were, well, not.

Nevertheless, he loved you, his heart sang for you and when you were apart all he could think about was getting back to you. You are the other half of his soul, his mate, his one true love and he never wanted to let you go.

Taking your sandwich in a to-go box from the diner, you walked through the front doors of the Forks hospital and greeted the receptionist on duty.

“Hey Sandy, how are you doing this fine day?”

“Just peachy hon, and you?” She looked up from the computer screen and smiled at you.

“Doing good, came to have lunch with Carlisle, is he available?”

“I think so, I’ll page him and let him know you’re here, you can take a seat until he gets here.” She said cheerily.

Your stomach dropped, you didn’t really feel like sitting in the waiting room with all these people. You’d never really felt welcomed in hospitals, you had really avoided them until Carlisle had come into your life. Doctors would take one look at you and decide that whatever problem you were experiencing could be solved with weight loss.

Taking a deep breath, you move to sit in one of the only open chairs left. It seems as though everyone in Forks was in the hospital today. As you sit you begin to look around, clocking the mother and daughter duo in the corner of the room. They continue to talk in whispers to one another and taking not at all subtle looks in your direction. You try your best to tune them out, you really do but when the younger of the duo burst out laughing at something her mother said while staring at you, you can’t help but feel the sudden urge to flee. While you were still contemplating if you could simply text Carlisle that there was a work emergency and run away, he turned the corner.

He seemed to be in a good mood, when he came into your view he had a smile on his face and you watched as whatever tension he was holding in his shoulder bled out when he set his sight on you. You jumped up and walked as quickly as you could over to him, trying to not seem too eager to leave the room full of people.

“How are you my love?” he asked.

“I’m okay, really looking forward to this sandwich and some time alone with my handsome lover.” You cheekily replied

“Well then, I better not keep you waiting.” He took the bag with the sandwich from your hand and placed his other hand on your lower back.

As he led you through, the well-lit halls towards his office, you let your mind wander. It isn’t often that people are that obvious about their distaste when it comes to your figure. And no matter how much Carlisle and his family ensured you that they thought you were beautiful, all it took was a mean look and some whispered comments to bring you all the way back to square one. Why were people so cruel? Why did other women tear each other down? Why were you letting this get to you? Question after question rattled around in your brain and you completely zoned out of your surroundings. You didn’t notice when tears started to leak from your eyes, or the concerned look that Carlsie threw your way when he heard your heartbeat pick up.

Carlisle hates when you cry, he can’t stand you seeing upset. Your heart is one of the only things that matter to him and when it’s in pain, so is he. He didn’t know why you started crying but if had his choice, another tear would never cross your eyelid.

You seemed to jump back into existence when he gently pushed you down on the couch he had in his office. He placed his icy hand on your cheek and lifted your eyes to meet his.

“What’s wrong? Why is your heart in pain?” he asked so gently as if you would break if he pushed too hard.

And break you did, with his concerned tone, tears began to flow faster out of your eyes and down the apples of your cheeks leaving trails in their wake.

In one swift move, he took your place on the couch and cradled your shaking frame in his arms. He pulled you in close to his chest and began whispering sweet nothings into your ear. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Just breathe pretty girl, deep breaths. That’s it, you’re doing so well. You had no idea how long this went on for, but eventually, your cries reduced to sniffles and your breathing evened out. Where there was once melancholy, now there was only exhaustion.

“What happened love?” Carlisle asked. You shook your head but answered him anyway.

“There were two girls in the waiting room, a mother and daughter I think. They wouldn’t stop staring at me and whispering things. They started laughing and I don’t know I guess it was just too much. I felt so small and so huge at the same time.” You let it all out, and as you recalled what happened, the weight on your chest lessened. You took a deep breathe, “I know that I shouldn’t feel this way and that you think I’m beautiful it just-”

“Darling, you’re allowed to feel however you want. There is no should or shouldn’t. Yes, I think you're the most gorgeous woman on the planet but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have insecurities, it just means that I’ll have to do my best to remind you just how amazing you really are.” Carlisle cut you off resolutely. His arms tightened their hold on you, “I have eternity to show you just how wonderful you are, eventually it will get easier I promise darling.”

“I just don’t understand why people have to be so cruel.” You responded.

“I don’t know love, but you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. I tell you what, why don’t you eat your lunch while you do that I’ll retell you the story of the moment I knew you were going to be mine, how does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful Carlsise, you always know just how to make me feel better.”

For the next hour, Carlisle reminded you of the moment he fell for you when you had walked into the hospital for a check-up. He could tell you were nervous, but you still gave every one of the staff a smile. He had been blown away by your beauty and continued to be blown away by you every day he got to spend with you.

One thing was for sure, you would spend the rest of eternity listening to Carlise tell you all of the things he loved about you. And you would spend even longer telling him all the reasons you loved him right back.

#carlise cullen #carlisle x reader #carlisle x plus size reader #plus size!reader #plus size reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #requests open

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jinhua-shu · 1 year ago

Text

THE AFTER-EFFECT

Scaramouche/Wanderer x GN!Reader

PART ONE: OVERTHINKING

PART TWO: HIS POINT OF VIEW

PART THREE: HELPLESS

PART FOUR: THE AFTER-EFFECT

PART FIVE: I.. LOVE YOU.. DUMMY

MENTIONS 🫶:

@swivy123

Scaramouche held out a long sigh as he plops himself back down on his bed. his phone was dead therefore he couldn’t reply to Y/N’s confession. he grumbled loudly as he frustratingly pulled on his hair in annoyance. that stupid charger he bought from Dori who egged him on to buy it because it’s very “Fast” charging. didn’t work. once again, he grabbed his pillow and screamed onto it.

Nahida sweat-drops as she passed by scara’s room hearing the loud grumbling and frustrated muffled screeches.

Dottore chuckles to himself as he sat on Childe’s office chair with a long smirk on his face.

‘My.. i should really stop.. screwing with him huh.’

He said as he placed down scaramouche’s phone that he had lost “accidentally” while he was at Physical Education class, 2 months ago.

Childe chuckles, ‘Well.. i think it would be best to just stop this thing.. before lumine finds out and beats me up.. haha—‘

Dottore choked back an amused snort. before standing up to open scara’s phone once more to delete the messages before you can read it.

Dottore’s heart leaped, as he reads the response from you. he sweated heavily before throwing the phone towards Childe.

‘seems like we’ve messed up.. better face lumine tomorrow then.’

Childe reads your response twice before wincing. ‘uh.. we’ve broken the chance of our dear comrade getting a significant other.. ‘ Childe awkwardly chuckles as he just chucked the phone inside dottore’s messenger bag.

Dottore heaved out a sigh as he sat back down. ‘well.. it’s his problem now—‘

Childe shook his head. in disappointment before chucking once more awkwardly.

‘ how do we tell him-?’ childe asks Dottore ‘…i don’t know.’ Dottore replied to childe.

Lumine sighs as she went back to your door with a heavy heart. she glanced down on the floor to see the bell still there. she cannot just leave you be.. because she had felt the same thing. she had experienced the same thing.

Lumine knocked before entering the room..

‘Hey.. what’s up?’ she asked as she laid down next to you.

‘well.. i got rejected..’ you said as you sniffed and smiled at lumine. ‘I’m.. happy.. at least the heavy weight in my heart has been lifted.. i don’t ha-have to worry..’ you told her before breaking down once more.

‘But.. i cannot help but cry.. he’s.. the only guy who’ve made me feel this way before..’ you sobbed as you hugged lumine, wetting her white hoodie with your tears while crying your hearts out.

‘Lulu.. i don’t know what to do.. i can’t just forget him and move on.. i love him so much..’

Lumine smiled bitterly. ‘sometimes you just gotta let go of the things you loved the most. sometimes you just gotta let the wave flow and let go of him..’

‘I know it would be very hard. but please rely on me while you’re in this state..’

Lumine finished off before going through her thoughts. (( I would treat you better than him. so please let me and open your eyes for me. ))

Lumine hugged you tightly as she ran her hand through your hair. humming a song that her brother used to hum.

Scaramouche wanders off towards his wardrobe to look for his wallet that he threw. still frustrated he needs to buy a new charger to finally reply to your confession and.. hopefully be with you.. and have you accept him for his flaws or imperfections.

grumpily grabbing his wallet that’s near his shoe rack, he took his jacket that’s nestling in his closet.

‘Nahida, i’m going out to buy some new charger. don’t wait for me for lunch since i’ll be dropping off at y/n’s.’

Scaramouche told nahida who was ordering food for lunch. as he walks towards the door, nahida went and stopped him for awhile.

‘I hope that.. you’ve sorted out your feelings for her.. because i’m very proud of you.’ nahida smiles as she hugged scaramouche before going off back to the kitchen.

scaramouche stood there stunned before shrugging off the warmth with determination.

‘Y/N.. please wait for me.. ‘

He mumbled to himself as he tied his shoes tightly before opening the door and rushing towards the Nearby 7/11 that’s just 4 minutes away from his house.

Grabbing a charger without looking at the price, he immediately went to the cashier to pay for it.

‘can i use your charging port?’ he huffed as he slammed the money on the counter, terrifying the cashier. the cashier nodded their head shakily before apologizing for looking at scara right at the eyes.

pathetic. scara thought as he calmly walked towards the charging station to plug in his phone. waiting impatiently scara grumbled before going off to an aisle to buy milk bread and some banana milk.

Childe was seen running down the streets with scara’s old phone in his hand, Huffing and wheezing loudly, he turned a corner to check if scara is still at 7/11, which he is. scara was seen paying for the bread and milk he got before heading off towards the charging station once again.

Child entered the CVS, with an awkward smile plastered on his face.

‘what’s up with you? idiot.’ Scaramouche egged on childe who approached him, while rummaging through his pockets to look for something. scaramouche’s eye brow went up as he was curious on whatever childe is going to do.

‘Here.. your phone.. i found it-?’ childe awkwardly chuckles before scratching the back of his head nervously.

scaramouche glared at the tall ginger seemingly knowing that he and dottore took it.

‘ “found” it? you must be shittin’ me. i knew it was with you and Zandick. that dickhead took it and wanted to put the blame on you, didn’t he? ‘

scaramouche snarls at the ginger man who was still nervously scratching the back of his head, before snatching the “Old phone” that he had “lost”.

Childe gulps his saliva in fear. before opening his mouth to say something.

‘Sca— comrade— we did something bad-‘

scara rolled his eyes as he snorts.

‘ Don’t you guys always do something “bad”? ‘

‘well— yeah— but you’re also apart of it, you know-‘

‘ You didn’t hear me say, “i am not apart of it” did you? ‘ scara groans as he kicked Childe’s shin hard.

Childe who’s now on the floor, gripping his shin groaning and moaning in pain. finally told scaramouche what they did.

‘ Scara.. you see— me and Dottore actually wanted to mess with you for awhile.. so we decided to answer the confession.. you got from Y/N.. and.. we’ve gone too far.. we were originally going to delete it fast but they read the message quite quickly! we thought they were asleep at the time.. ‘

scaramouche stopped on his tracks.. gripping his old phone tightly as the screen began to crack. viens prominent on his hand as he squeezed his old phone. Scara’s eyes darken as he felt his heart drop. they did what now? he thought as he grabbed Childe’s collar in frustration.

‘What? you thought that playing with someone’s feelings is funny? you piece of shit. no wonder lumine doesn’t fucking like you back. ‘

Scara heatedly said as his eyes becomes wider and bros furrowing deeper.

Childe gags as he taps on scara’s tight hand that’s holding the collar of his shirt.

‘ he-hey calm down—‘

scara’s smiled at Childe.

‘ Calm down? you made me feel like i want to kill you right here. you’ve hurt their feelings, by doing that little prank of yours. the “little” thing is the same size of your dick and brain. and it’s pathetic. ‘

Scaramouche snarl’s before letting Childe go.

‘i’m warning you. Tartaglia. if i see your face again. i’ll make sure to make your little high-school life hell. ‘

Scaramouche growls loudly as he glares down at Childe who’s wheezing for air. he spat at childe’s shoe before turning away to control his temper.

Scara looks towards the cashier, eyes empty and in void as he plugs out his charging phone to go on his way.

How do i..? fix this mess. those two idiots really went too far.

Oh.. Y/N.. will you still accept me right at your door.. if i show up?

TO BE CONTINUED

— Last part will be out soon.

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enigmaticexplorer · 5 months ago

Text

I Yearn, and so I Fear - A Muse III

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

15 Yelona

Nova avoided children.

Ever since the war—ever since the tiny bodies torn apart and their screams of terror and desperation—he couldn’t be around children.

Seeing them, hearing them cry, was the quickest way to send him into a panic attack. The thought of living in the same house as a kid had almost convinced him to stay away.

But Nova couldn’t be on his own. Not after the War. He’d agreed to Cody’s proposal: help deserted troopers get situated to civilian life.

And he couldn’t leave Cody. His commander. The man he’d come to accept as a vod rather than solely an officer.

It was Cody who submitted his request to study trauma therapy the last year of the war, and it was Cody who went to General Kenobi when the Kaminoans initially refused.

It was Cody who helped him find purpose again after his squad mates were killed—

Smack.

Nova’s head snapped back. A sharp pain burst in his cheek. The cheek inked with the tattoo he got to—

Another swing aimed for his face. He blocked, shoving Fox away.

“Focus,” Fox snapped.

Nova sidestepped a well-aimed strike. He hit Fox’s kidney. Just enough force the man hissed and retreated a step.

“Break,” Nova said, working his jaw and grimacing at the ache. Fox looked ready to argue but Nova shook his head. “We both need water.”

The lethal tension harshening Fox’s face eased and he shook out his hands, straightening. Nova surveyed him. He hadn’t known Fox throughout the war but the last few months had told him enough.

The reason Nova made all of his vode get weighted blankets was because of Fox. He’d grown tired of hearing Fox thrash in his bed when he returned from his late-night constellation studies.

“Wolffe and Cody joining?” Fox asked, pouring water down the back of his neck.

“No. Cody and Daria are cooking something for dinner”—Nova took a sip from his bottle—“Wolffe’s doing a puzzle.”

Eyes narrowing, Fox glanced at the windows to the sunroom. Nova didn’t bother to look. He’d passed through an hour ago and saw Wolffe and Kazi, the former working on his puzzle while the latter knitted a sweater. Instead, he shifted his attention to the kid sitting beneath an old, thick tree.

Neyti had joined him and Fox half an hour ago, a sketchpad in her hand as she settled among the twisting roots of the tree. She wasn’t sketching, though, her hands clasped in her lap and head tilted back to the clouds above.

“You can still do some good,” Cody had told him once. More than a year ago.

Back then, those words had given Nova a renewed purpose, and with Cody’s statement in mind, he approached the kid. “Mind if I join?”

Neyti jumped. Frantic eyes met his and she shrugged, snatching her sketchbook to make room for him. As he took a seat, he scrutinized her most recent drawing: two adults with a kid. The adults were familiar, the athletic body belonging to Kazi and the discernible scar belonging to Wolffe.

Neyti glanced between him and the sketch. Her cheeks darkened and she scrambled to close the sketchbook’s cover.

Nova leaned back on his hands, looking away. Whatever was going on between Kazi and Wolffe wasn’t his business. And he didn’t ask about the sketch.

“Kazi told me about your lunch,” Nova said.

Stiffening, Neyti grabbed a twig and poked it at the nearest root. Nova watched her for a pent breath.

“I’m sorry those kids were mean.” She shrugged and he frowned. “It’s okay to be upset. It doesn’t feel good to be left out.”

Neyti turned her face into her shoulder, hiding her expression.

“We like you.” Nova elbowed her gently. “All of us do. Even Fox.”

Skepticism narrowed her eyes and Neyti studied him for a long moment. He held her gaze, keeping his features gentle. Eventually a tiny smile lightened her face.

“Come on,” Nova said, regaining his feet and offering Neyti his hand. She frowned as he pulled her to her feet. “Have you ever sparred?”

At the perplexed shake of her head, Nova grinned, leading her to Fox. The man eyed them warily, the scowl he shot Nova a demand to back down. Nova ignored him. He knew the man was keeping his distance from Neyti, but the kid needed some comfort and Fox could get over his bullshit for an hour.

“First thing”—Nova flicked Neyti’s cheek; she reared back, affronted—“always keep your hands up.”

Fox’s chuckle earned him a severe glare from the kid. With a derisive sniff in Fox’s direction, she raised her fists. Nova positioned her hands, keeping the right slightly higher since he’d learned she was left-hand dominant.

“Keep your thumb curled here,” Nova instructed. Neyti’s nose scrunched as she concentrated on the awkward position, and Nova withheld his amusement, raising his left hand. “All right. Punch my palm.”

Unhesitating, Neyti swung. Her wrist twisted halfway through and Nova dodged, catching her wrist to stall her. Confusion downturned her mouth; a wounded look rounded her eyes.

“Don’t be upset,” Fox drawled. Neyti scowled at him; he winked back. “Could’ve hurt yourself twisting your hand like that. Watch.”

Nova lifted his palm and let Fox demonstrate. A quick, solid punch that had Neyti blinking wide-eyed, and then Fox repeated, slowing his movement for the kid to observe the trajectory and positioning of his arm and fist.

Fox assessed her. “Got it?”

Nodding, Neyti raised her fists, tucked her thumb, and looked at Nova expectantly. He dipped his chin and she aimed for his hand. Tiny knuckles hit his palm. He’d been flicked harder but he didn’t share that with her.

“Better,” Fox said. To Nova’s surprise, he knelt beside Neyti and gestured to her arm. “May I?”

Another nod and Fox grabbed Neyti’s elbow and wrist, walking her through the movement.

Again.

And again.

It reminded Nova of his old training: hours spent with boys who shared his face. His squad mates who didn’t make it. They’d be happy for him, he decided. For making a life for himself. For not giving up, even when he'd wanted to.

“Again,” Fox said, regaining his feet.

The serious tone to his voice and the hard set to his jaw were familiar. Nova had seen the same look in Cody’s face—a deliberate determination to give his men any chance to survive.

Squaring her shoulders, Neyti faced Nova and punched his hand. Still weak, but her form was better. He offered her an encouraging smile; her shy smile in return softened something in his chest.

Yeah, the kid had grown on him.

Fox crossed his arms over his chest and Nova readied himself.

“Again.”

Masterlist | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari

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soft-stxrlight · 7 months ago

Text

the calling of wolves and vipers, chapter 2

unexpected guests of all varieties

ao3 link: the calling of wolves and vipers

tumblr masterlist: the calling of wolves and vipers

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Theodore Nott x Hermione Granger

description: draco, theo, and hermione navigate growing affections as they fight for werewolf rights. there are forces, however, which will stop at nothing to ensure their efforts are for naught.

word count: 4222

Hermione sat at her cluttered desk clutching her pen tightly. Theo was out sick with some kind of flu and she had to catch up on work for their proposal. He took his work home, but she was pulling more weight because she hadn’t wanted him to stress while he was ill.

When lunch rolled around Hermione figured she’d just work through it and snack on the grapes and cheese she had brought with her. She would’ve gone to lunch with Ginny but the morning sickness was hitting her hard and she couldn’t leave the house much this week.

Two strong raps came upon her office door. “Come in,” Hermione yelled, but didn’t look up from her work.

“Oh, is Theo still out?” Draco’s deep rumble brought her out of her intense focus. When she met his gaze, she suddenly felt self-conscious of her curls knotted with her wand, askew atop her head and cardigan she wore that drooped down one shoulder. She promptly jerked the sleeve back up and smoothed back her hair only for a curl to spring right back into place in front of her eyes. Draco merely chuckled.

“Yeah, um, he is,” she muttered, blushing furiously. Draco looked straight out of a magazine with his crisp black slacks and eggshell cashmere sweater. An expensive looking watch sparkled on his right wrist. Draco is a lefty, interesting, she thought. His white-blonde hair was the longest she’d seen it and he’d abandoned the slicked-back look of his childhood. It settled as though he’d just carded through it and stayed that way. With his slimmed features and sharp jawline, he was particularly dashing.

“I guess I’ll leave you be then.” Draco’s eyes dropped toward the floor and he toyed with his watch.

“You could stay?” Hermione chided herself for the way it sounded more like a pleading question than an offer. “I mean to say,” she cleared her throat, “we’re both close with Theo, it’s time we at least make an attempt at bonding.” Hermione knew her face was hopeful and vulnerable. Open. She felt drawn to him lately and itched to explore it. The flutter in her gut agreed.

“Hm, I suppose you’re right,” Draco drawled, pulling the door shut as he stepped inside. “Where should I sit?” Draco motioned to the paper covered desks, then to Theo’s chair with her personal items on it.

“Does the floor work?” She asked, “When Theo and I eat together we do it on the floor for obvious lack of desk space.” She gestured at the surroundings and blushed again. Surely, Draco Malfoy could afford a big enough desk and office space. He was an auror afterall. They got better funding.

“I’m well aware of that little quirk of your workspace. The floor will do fine,” Draco’s smile was teasing, but warm. Hermione returned it, and tossed in an eyeroll to boot, ignoring entirely that the very first thing he did was agree with her.

It was comical watching a large alpha werewolf fold in on himself and spread out his lunch on the floor of her office. His long muscular legs were crossed and his back hunched to reach his food on the floor. Everytime he leaned over Hermione could see how wide his shoulders were, making it look like his anatomy was more suited for wings and flying than suits and offices.

“How’s work going?” she asked him cautiously. It was the awkward small talk of acquaintances who are only just slightly familiar with one another, but don’t know anything specific enough to have a conversation of substance.

“I like it. It’s fast paced, aside from the paperwork, obviously. I get to put away the wizards who want us to go back to how we used to be.” He tucked back into his sandwich, brushing a crumb off his lip with his knuckle.

“Oh, that’s really good,” she mumbled, a small piece of cheese flying out of her mouth directly onto her jumper. A sheepish grin and she slapped it off.

“Has McLaggen bothered you anymore?” Draco asked nonchalantly, eyes fixed on some finite grain in the floor. She wouldn’t have thought much of it, save for the irritated tick in his jaw on the name.

“No, I haven’t even seen him recently.”

Draco’s eyes darkened for a moment. He shook his head and looked to her as pleadingly as a Malfoy could–which is to say his composure remained while his eyes pierced her, “I’m not joking, Hermione,” a thrill ran through her at the sound of her name on his tongue.

“If he so much as looks in your direction you come to me or Theo.” The thrill collapsed into cold discomfort as she thought about Cormac. Draco’s inhale was audible and he cocked his head. She saw his hands flex as though nails begged to rip through the skin of his fingertips.

“I’m okay, really,” she tried to comfort him.

He spoke through clenched teeth, “Please don’t humor me, I can smell your fear. The mere sensation grates on my baser side.”

“Alright, he unsettles me,” she admitted, “but I’m safe and I don’t really think he’d do anything,” She was fairly sure her words were true, but Draco’s eyes narrowed acutely. “Besides, I have an alpha and a beta ready at my beck and call, right?” Hermione raised her chin in a teasing flourish.

Her attempt to cut the tension was fruitless. Draco should’ve bristled at such a comment, to equate his alpha to no more than an attack dog. It should’ve been a playful insult. He was supposed to grumble under his breath about silly witches and she’d laugh him off. Instead, he nodded solemnly, gaze intent.

“You need only point,” his words were a blistering promise. Hermione was rendered breathless. Her mind scrambled for some inane small talk to diffuse such a proclamation. No, she didn’t want to ruin the tenuous verity that wound between them.

A gulped fortifying breath, and then she asked, “Draco?” His head perked up, silver eyes boring into hers. His name was foreign in her mouth, always Malfoy, but he was a new man and deserved a new name. “Can I ask you some personal questions?”

“Considering all you’ve done for wizarding kind, I’d say you’ve earned the right to bypass small talk. Ask away.” He gestured with a sweep of his large hand.

“I know you apologized to me and I know you’ve changed. I guess I’m just wondering why? There’s no doubt you were an indoctrinated child, but I’m still curious as to why you chose to go against what your parents so deeply believe?” The words rushed out before she could stop them.

Draco gently placed the remainder of his sandwich down and took a deep breath, before looking at her with such searing vulnerability that her stomach roiled. Her eyes begged the reprieve of looking away from his scouring gaze. Surely some ancestral magic had bestowed him with a sort of enchanted look that laid all one’s secrets bare to his discretion.

“I saw you brutally tortured. In my home. I never wanted to be a part of their cause, but my parents forced me. It became horribly real though when you writhed bloody on the drawing room floor. My aunt had a unique penchant for inflicting agony. When I didn’t–” he winced, “well, I chose never to freeze again.” He nodded to her. Like that was that. Then raised his forgone sandwich and resumed eating as though he hadn’t just dredged up both of their long-held trauma.

The inner Draco, however, was far from composed. His baser side was clawing at his skull, his sternum. The discomfort was palpable and his instincts screamed at him that he’d failed her. Despite not having been turned at the time of her torture, his alpha instincts balefully whimpered that he’d failed his most important purpose. Her protection. The urge wasn’t purely chivalrous, it had a dark edge that wove through his muscles and settled like an unbreakable vow.

She wouldn’t sustain such torture ever again. Not if he was still breathing. Draco would sooner gut himself and offer her his intestines wrapped in a bow for her to strangle him. Hermione Granger could not be harmed.

“I suppose that’s a,” she coughed subtly to clear the lump forming in her throat, “fairly terrific reason.”

Draco gave her a warm look that stirred the floaty feeling low in her belly. One that brought the edges of his lips up in a subtle curve and accentuated the crinkles around his eyes that she’d not noticed before. His silver eyes seemed to soften even more as they held her own, and his blinks were slow and measured. Hermione felt caught up in his ethereal gaze, entranced by the, dare-she-say, tender moment.

The door swung open and Hermione’s eyes shot to the head of disheveled black hair that had popped in. Harry’s green eyes went wide and darted between Draco and Hermione, then repeated. Draco had schooled his expression into cool indifference a moment too late. Harry surely witnessed whatever just happened.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I was looking to see if you wanted to come to lunch with me, but I see you’re already occupied.” Harry nodded once to Draco.

“Yes, um-” Hermione started, brain still mush from his simmering molten gaze.

“Right, well. Bye.” Harry closed the door as quickly as he’d opened it. He’d already managed to deconstruct the moment between them with his inept grace though. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to be mad at him. Her best friend could be thick sometimes, but even he couldn’t be blind to the downright visible tension radiating between them. She rather thought the surfaces in the room blurred and fizzed like concrete in the dead of summer.

“Do people normally burst into your office unannounced? Have I made a fool of myself by knocking?” Draco drawled, clearly mocking Harry’s poor manners. It was harmless in a way that pleasantly disarmed her. They were… joking.

“No, those are just Harry’s delicate manners at work. You’d know all about those right? I’m sure you had a lesson dedicated specifically to entering a room gracefully.” Hermione bowed her head at him in faux respect and tucked back into her grapes.

“I certainly did, in fact, I’d say I’m an expert on entrances.”

His eyes burned into hers and a wicked grin split his lips. It took her a moment to recognize the innuendo for what it was. Was he flirting?! Hermione threw a grape at him and the motion made her miss the way his eyes flashed with a supernatural obsidian glow before settling back to his silver hue, he snatched it from the air and popped it in his mouth. His seeker reflexes had not dulled in his years since teenagehood.

“You’re an expert on idiocy.”

Draco and Hermione settled into the rest of lunch that way. Eating between comfortable conversations, with the occasional joke or jab. She found that as she stood, stretched, and bid him goodbye, she truly didn’t want him to leave.

Hermione stood in the doorway and watched as his broad shoulders disappeared into the crowded halls of the ministry, but not before he glanced back over his shoulder and shot her a wicked grin when he saw her watching. Her stomach fluttered traitorously. She leaned her forehead against the coolness of the door frame after he rounded the corner and sighed. Godric help her, since when was she a simpering school girl.

⭑⭑⭑

Hermione’s mom always made her pastina when she was unwell.

So there Hermione stood, brow beading sweat over a pot of boiling chicken stock and pastina. She adeptly poured in the measured cheeses and sighed happily as she mixed them in. Warm memories bubbled to the surface of her mind with the steam. If she focused hard enough, she could feel her mother’s hand guiding her own in wide clockwise sweeps. Her throat caught with emotion but she diverted the thought back to Theo.

She didn’t even know if Theo liked pastina.

Ginny had insisted it was a great idea and a good way to show care for her friend, or maybe more. And if it succeeded in comforting him, then that was enough. Lunch with Draco had made Hermione even more confused, as she told Ginny, but she was still just as interested in Theo. Ginny then told Hermione that wizards were more progressive than muggles in the senses of sexuality and potential partners, insisting it was fairly common for triads or polyamorous couples to become bonded or even married. Hermione scoffed at Ginny’s implication.

Hermione had never been interested in two men in this way before. And it was far easier for her to look the other way and pretend the Draco factor was no more than a passing fluke than to acknowledge these potential budding affections for the mysterious man. Theo had quietly been on her mind for months now, snaking his way around her very heart and sinking his slow-acting venom in until she was paralyzed, prone for him.

The pastina was meant to be a gesture of her love. Hermione’s subtle way of saying, you’re always on my mind and I want you to be well.

There were three main ingredients in pastina, warm chicken stock to bring a hearty taste, the pastina itself which swelled into sweet little stars, and pecorino romano cheese which melted and tied it all together decadently. Of course there was also some salt, pepper, olive oil and butter as well. Once the cheese was melted, she grabbed a container and began spooning it in.

By the time she was en route to Theo’s flat–he’d long abandoned living in his family manor–she had three very full containers in her arms. Theo’s flat was further into wizarding London than hers, and she had to take the tube to get there. She couldn’t floo because they didn’t have an established connection and she couldn’t apparate because she didn’t know the area well enough to be sure she would arrive somewhere sans muggles.

Hermione hesitated briefly on Theo’s stoop, hand poised to knock, second guessing her gesture and worried it would be too overbearing. But she forced herself to gently thump at his door and plastered on a pleasant smile.

It took a moment for Theo to get to the door. She could hear his slow shuffles. As the door peeled open and Hermione got a good look at him, her heart melted at his puzzled head tilt.

His usually bright forest eyes were dull with poor sleep, deep bruised pockets beneath them. His cheeks were pale and colorless, where they were normally flushed and full of life. Indulgently, Hermione thought of the stubble that crept along his jaw and considered how it would feel running along her skin. A pair of muggle pajama pants printed with cartoon panels of spider-man hung low on his hips. But, the vulnerable way he had one of Hermione’s crocheted blankets wrapped around his head and body so he looked like a tall sickly nesting doll had her cooing.

“Oh, Theo,” Hermione adjusted the containers where she stacked them on her hip. His eyes widened innocently, relishing in her doting indulgence. Hermione knew at that moment Theo would milk this for all it was worth. And she’d let him. This sweet, kind, dramatic man she cared for so much. Because maybe she did? Maybe she’d cared for him for a while, and only now she could admit it.

“What are you doing here?” Theo rasped, his voice clearly overused from coughing.

Hermione held up the containers and gushed, “I made you pastina. In my opinion, its healing benefits are better than chicken soup, but maybe you won’t like it? I mean you don’t have to eat it-”

“Take a breath Mione, I’m sure I’ll love it.” He gave her a toothy grin, which was interrupted with a chest rattling cough. He ducked his head into his elbow and then smiled sheepishly at her this time.

“Aw Theo, that sounds awful. And is that the blanket I gave you for Christmas?” She tugged it a little tighter around his face, finally allowing her fingertips to trail his clammy cheek softly. Theo’s eyelids fluttered and he leaned into the warm touch.

“Mhmm,” he groaned, “it brings me comfort, reminds me of you.” His eyes snapped open, Hermione thought he might not have meant to say that last part out loud.

“I’m glad then.” She grinned at him and passed him the pastina, “I don’t want you standing too long so you should go rest.” She began to turn away but Theo’s fingers caught on hers handing him the containers.

“Go on a date with me,” he said, seeming to startle himself with a jerk. He shook his head and color finally came to his cheeks, pale but there nonetheless. He straightened, “I mean, would you go on a date with me when I’m no longer sick?” His eyes were marginally brighter now, vulnerable even. Hermione’s stomach did somersaults and her brain became pure static.

All she could do was nod.

⭑⭑⭑

Theo insisted Hermione allow him to walk her to their date. So, she sat in her living room and stared at the small clock on the bookshelf. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was broken, moving as agonizingly slow as a sloth and holding her future time with Theo hostage.

It was two minutes to five on a warm Sunday afternoon in October. Hermione had opted for a creme colored floral maxi skirt with a ruffled hem paired with a forest green silk front-tie, quarter sleeve top. She wouldn’t admit it, but she selected it for its similarity to his eyes. Her favorite brown double breasted jacket hung off her shoulders. Her favorite necklace from Ginny hung just below her cleavage. She’d chosen a loose braided coronet to tame her hair. She felt beautiful.

Finally, a soft pattern tapped at the door and Hermione shot up, nervously smoothing a hand over her skirt before approaching the front door. As the door creaked open, it revealed Theo’s glowing smile. Hermione could’ve sworn his teeth sparkled like a cartoon prince. His curly dark brown hair fell haphazardly in handsome waves along his brow.

“You look absolutely lovely Hermione,” His eyes twinkled as he seemed to savor her appearance. Hermione’s stomach turned inside out in the absolute best way. Theo always managed to make her feel like a young girl again, giddy and lovestruck.

“Theo, you look so handsome,” Hermione replied, breathless.

“Thank you, love. Are you ready to go?” He offered her his elbow gallantly.

Hermione took it, eager to unravel their mystery date. Theo wouldn’t tell her a word about what would occur, only that she would be “dazzled and hopelessly in love” by the end. That had earned him a soft smack to the ribs in jest.

He steered her toward the street at a slow stroll, “We have to take a portkey to the location of the date. Is that alright?” he asked gently, a flash of uncertainty crossed his face. How sweet, Hermione thought, he’s nervous too.

She nodded immediately and he pulled out a pretty rose from the basket dangling from his elbow. “It’ll activate in a minute so grab on and then we’ll be there.”

They stood in serene silence, gripping the rose together in a side alley by Hermione’s flat. Theo snorted awkwardly when the silence went on too long, Hermione’s answering laugh was cut short by the whirling of the portkey travel tugging behind her navel. Their landing was smooth with Hermione never releasing Theo’s elbow.

When the world stopped spinning, Hermione glanced around her to find the rolling green hills of Scotland, clearly not far from Hogwarts. There was rumored to be a fairy pack that lived in this region. Hermione had always wanted to see the fairies but the conditions had to be just right, they had to feel safe to show themselves.

Theo brought her a few steps forward and then pulled his wand out of his pocket. He winked at her, “Revelio.” A shimmer of sparkles parted the air and revealed a beautiful picnic facing where the sun would eventually settle over the mountains in the distance.

“Theo, this is brilliant,” Hermione exclaimed. She dropped to her knees on the picnic blanket and inspected the food. It was obviously being kept warm by a warming charm, as heat emanated from the containers. The scents wafting out smelled delicious and looked… “did you make the food?”

Theo grinned, “With my own two hands. Nothing but the best for the Golden Girl,” nudging her shoulder with his thigh. He knew she hated being called the golden girl but could never seem to scold him for it. Maybe it had to do with the amount of reverie in his tone every time he said it?

“Sit down wolf-man, I want to try all this delicious smelling food.” Theo rolled his eyes as he dropped down and languidly spread himself out on the blanket. They started in on the food and some small talk. Mostly recounting their weekends and going over favorites. Hermione’s favorite color, lilac, Theo’s, sage.

Going over childhoods, Theo’s mother died when he was young and his father died in the final battle, Hermione’s family was tight knit until she obliviated them. Now they don’t trust her. Touching briefly on work, Theo’s pursuit of the shifting houses and Hermione’s inquiries into rights laws.

As they ate the little tea cakes Theo proudly proclaimed he had painstakingly prepared, Hermione laid down on her back and watched the sky as it blossomed lilac and tangerine.

“Theo, what’s it like being in a pack?” She turned to face him and propped her head on her hand. Theo was on his back as well, arms crossed behind his head, the picture of utter relaxation.

“It’s a natural urge. The pull to those like you and a rank that suits your character. I trust Draco as a leader and he trusts me as a second. It’s kind of a duty hardwired into your blood.” His brow furrowed as he considered his words carefully.

“Maybe this is stupid,” Theo looked at her, as if to say nothing she could ever say would be stupid, “but do you ever like it? Being a werewolf I mean?”

“Sometimes. It’s brought me things I wouldn’t otherwise have,” his eyes darted to Hermione where she’d resumed staring at the sunset, “my, uh, pack and stuff, and the power is exhilarating, when I’m not afraid I’m going to tear someone to shreds.” he chuckled. His eyes darkened and he threw an arm in the air as if to say c’est la vie.

“Does it scare you?” His voice was quiet and he avoided her eyes.

“Never,” her reply was certain and swift, “I trust you implicitly. I know you’d never hurt me.” Theo’s eyes flashed a beautiful cyan. Betas have cyan colored eyes. Hermione noted and filed the piece of information away.

“I don’t think I physically could, Hermione, you’ve got me utterly bewitched.” He smirked, trying to mask the vulnerability of his statement.

Hermione didn’t understand just how much he meant it. Theodore Nott had always been an easily distracted child. Hyperactive, some would say. But suddenly he understood singular focus. His had turned on her as his subject. She is mine, I have her now, I’m not letting go. The voice in his head took on that tone that it got when his baser side was influencing him.

Theo was more wary of his instincts than Draco. He did not relish his newfound possessive urges toward Hermione. Though, when his inner wolf would urge him to lay himself at her feet and give in to her every whim, he was decidedly less reluctant. Hermione possessed him, body and soul, and he’d have it no other way.

Hermione sat up then, eyes searching his for something she must have found, because the next moment her mouth was hovering just centimeters from his and with her eyes questioning. Theo answered by gently pressing his lips up against her soft, velvety ones. The kiss was sweet as butter melting into a muffin, all fluttering eyelids and subtle passes of tongues on lips. Comforting arms encircled waists and wandering hands found purchase on chins and tangled in hair.

The bliss of the moment was enhanced by Hermione’s gasp released upon opening her eyes and finding little glowing figures inspecting their basket and playing with the curls of their hair. Fairies.

Hermione sat up and slowly held up a small piece of bread. Tiny, fluttering fingers snatched it from her, only to hum happily and then zip up to her cheek and give her a petite kiss. The fairy’s touch was like being tucked into your bed, pure and warm. Their beauty encapsulated the lovers like crisp air after a fresh rain.

They spent the remainder of their evening observing their ethereal dinner guests, their soft pink light rivaling the newly risen stars in the sky, and pressing chaste, exuberant kisses to one another simply because they could. Content in their company and lovely evening.

________________________________________________

hermione and theo are getting a headstart, maybe draco will get his shit together soon ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #dramione #hermione granger #draco x hermione x theo #dreomione

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