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youroldfriendmurkyaura · 2 years ago

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5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers.♡

I’ve been trying to think of something interesting to answer, I always, like anyone (possibly), have the things I have feelings about crowding the space behind my eyes and yanking me around by my heartstrings, and I try to courteously shut the hell up as much as possible, and I’m always so deeply bored of myself (we’ve been together so long, you know?) and tumblr is the easiest place to read my mind (or possibly Instagram stories, in a way), but I’m gonna try.

1. When people like things I make/give them! I’m deeply inclined to bombard people with things I like to imagine them enjoying (never date me, save yourself lol) or like am curious about what they think of it and know they’ll never buy it for themself and if I give someone a book I have THOUGHTS about they’re that much closer to reading it. Which I know is deeply ridiculous in a way because we’re all individuals and different people get the same feelings from different things, but it’s wonderful to find a likemindedness in someone else and to see someone’s face light up about something you both relate to. I hope it isn’t all just making feel weird and guilty about living with things they don’t want and trying to decide when to throw away letters and mixes. At least I’m older, medicated, and keep a journal now. That didn’t stop me from making a playlist of songs I think D’Arcy might like (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/34Afpmxm0EQSGiMPsjrBGZ) and sending it to her on instagram the other day, though. I read somewhere that she likes I Can Change and I like Ezra Furman’s cover of it, and I’ve been wondering if she likes it too. She’ll never see my message, of course. She’s literally busy.

2. This is just number one continued probably. I love food and when it turns out better than I had expected. I made fudge again recently (which I’m required to bring to winter holiday family gatherings since I brought some slabs I had in the freezer once) but this time I substituted a half cup dark brown sugar and it was better, and in a different batch I substituted in peanut butter for the butter. I wasn’t sure it would work, but peanut butter cookies involve heating peanut butter so I gave it a try, substituting about 6 tablespoons of peanut butter for 2 tablespoons of butter I think. IT WAS SO GOOD. So I’m very excited about that. It’s just carnation’s 5 minute fudge (https://www.verybestbaking.com/carnation/recipes/carnation-famous-fudge/) but it’s really good and easy. I make it with evaporated goat milk and Ghirardelli chocolate chips and whatnot, but it was good and wowed youth group leaders when I made it with the cheapest ingredients money can buy in middle school too. Give it a try! Making candy and boiling sugar intimidates me, but you really do just boil it for 5 minutes and stir, you don’t need a thermometer or anything.

3. Cats! When Sméagol flops down with a sigh on my chest and puts his hands on my arm. When Joan makes me kiss the top of his head before he eats his food. When Vron drapes himself in the trough between my calves (leg parts) after I turn my cpap machine on every night. When Cricket comes running over to curl up beside me for tv time (we’re watching Barry right now and I’m LOVING it, it’s so dry but not gritty, and FUNNY) and smile and smile and smile. When Pancake bleats and runs around, and when you can watch the gears turning for so long before he decides to not be naughty after all, just like I taught him when he was a kitten (we put a LOT of work into learning to find better things to do with our feelings haha). When Samwise is like, “I don’t know who you are but everybody else loves you, for no apparent reason, so hello.” (Smeegs just found a smell haha, little cutie.) Cats are delightful and so smart and warm and fun. I’m amazed by how much they’ve picked up on. I could go on and on about how smart my cats are, but it would sound like I was imagining it. But like, one day, on a whim, I told Vron to sit and he promptly sat? There was no reason for him to know that, unless maybe he lived with a dog at some point before coming to languish on my steps as a kitten one day in the middle of the summer. I gave him water, then let him come inside and we played for an hour, and then I put him back outside. A little while later, I opened the door and he was still there and was like “well that was weird” and walked right back in. I never found where he came from, but I did get Cotton-Eyed Joe stuck in my head for weeks and weeks so his middle name is Joseph now. Probably should be Josef or something like that, actually. Russia, let me know how wrong I am. I’m counting on you.

4. Staying up! It’s so much quieter and cooler. When I first moved here my air conditioning didn’t work, so it just kinda happened that I was awake and sweating whether I liked it or not till at least midnight (I live in the desert lol) so working (in a store) during the hottest part of the day was kinda necessary. But I just love the peace and being by a lamp when it’s dark out. I’m a very quiet person, so silently listening to music with headphones in the middle of the night and letting my mind unfurl is my idea of a good time.

5. I’m trying to think of one last thing that encompasses everything I’ve left unsaid, but that’s impossible, of course. Oh here’s something: when I read something in print that has only ever before been inside my head and I didn’t know other people felt that way or experienced things like that. It happened when I read Annabel by Kathleen Winter and when I read Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. (I should’ve named Vron Levin because he’s my favorite but I wasn’t sure how to pronounce it and didn’t have internet when I first read it and immediately reread it when the kitten marched in so I couldn’t look it up. So I was like, “Well, I could call you Vronsky…” and he said “Yeah!” and I said “Yeah? You want your name to be Vronsky?” and he said “Yeah!”) There’s something so breathtaking about… I don’t even know what. Words? Particular words in a particular order that hit a spot in you that no one has ever seen, noticed, understood, or had any clue what you were trying to say about before. It’s amazing. Go through a breakup and be all buffeted about by… things on pages. You can ruin your day every day with just some sheets of paper. I suppose I’m not the first person to notice that. Concepts and memories and the imagination can really have an impact on a person. But you know what I mean, you’ve been alive before.

#my dang self

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keyofjetwolf · 4 years ago

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Rei: Am I so out of touch? No it's the audience that's wrong

#this is a quality blog #jet wolf loves rei hino #the best part is how the first cap is barely altered from the original dialogue #what a ridiculous peanut butter cup I LOVE HER #anonymous #ask a jet wolf

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

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Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: discussion of addiction/alcoholism

Full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along

-x-

Thanks so much for the love on chapter 1, I hope you enjoy this chapter too <3

-x-

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

June 2008

“You’re an idiot.”

Aaron casts a glance over to Emily, her hands tight on the steering wheel as she focuses on the road and he sighs before looking forward again, his head aching in a way he was struggling to ignore.

“So you keep saying,” he replies, an edge of sarcasm to his voice that she picks up on, scoffing at him in return.

“You’re lucky you can hear me call you an idiot, you know that right?” She says, looking at him briefly before she carries on looking where they are going. “L'idiot têtu aurait pu perdre l'ouïe et il me donne de l'attitude.”

“I may not be able to speak French, Emily, but even I know what ‘l’idiot’ means,” he grumbles, butchering the pronunciation in a way that makes her smile despite her annoyance.“And keep in mind I am your boss.”

“No, right now you’re my friend who took a ridiculous risk with his health,” she replies, tightening her grip on the steering wheel again as she blows out a steady breath, the frustration and concern she’d felt towards him since he’d reacted to the loud sounds at the cemetery finally bubbling over now they were alone, “I asked you, Aaron. I asked if you were cleared to return to work and you said yes.”

Ever since her visit to his office after he’d been served papers in front of the team, they’d become closer. Emily had even insisted on helping him find his apartment, talking him into the 12-month lease so at least he’d have somewhere to live near Jack and Haley, a sparkle in her eyes as she joked it also wasn’t that far away from her place. They’d become each other’s cornerstone, their friendship a place of strength they could both draw from when needed.

It felt like she was walking a fine line sometimes, her feelings for him blurring almost beyond recognition. Somewhere along the way of helping him stitch his life back together she’d fallen in love with him. Everything had become clear, almost scarily so, as she watched the footage of him thrown from the exploding SUV in New York.

Sometimes she liked to think he felt the same way about her, get lost in overanalysing the way she’d catch him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, but most of the time it felt like a fantasy. Any hope snuffed out, blown away like a flickering flame, when she saw the look on his face when someone mentioned Haley or Jack, the hurt still obvious.

“I’m sorry, Em,” he says, genuinely sounding remorseful, “I didn’t…” he sighs, “I needed to get back to work.”

She hums in response, knowing this wasn’t something they’d agree on, not yet anyway, so she looks at him again, sees how he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and tilts her head to indicate her purse on the backseat.

“There are painkillers in my purse,” she says, smiling when he reaches for it immediately, “We’ll stop soon, make sure you can get some rest.”

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” he says, smiling at the sight of the candy strewn amongst her essentials in her purse as he pulls out the painkillers, “You could have flown back with the others.”

She shakes her head at him, “Absolutely not, I think we’ve proven you can’t be left to your own devices,” she says, and it feels too real, too honest, so she chuckles, “Although, I do wish we’d brought those brownies with us.”

“At least we have your supply of peanut butter cups to keep us going,” he quips, holding up her purse, and she glares at him. He laughs, before turning serious, his hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. “Thanks, Em. I appreciate the company”

She has to swallow down the treacherous hope that spreads up her chest, the taste somehow bitter and sweet at the same time in the back of her throat as she shrugs, his hand slipping from her shoulder and leaving her feeling cold.

He never called her Prentiss when it was just the two of them anymore, and her full name often gave way to Em. Something no one had called her since her father had left when she was young. It sounded better when Aaron said it, something about the way the single syllable fell from his lips.

“You’d do the same for me.” She replies, flashing him a smile she hopes he can’t see through.

She knows it’s true, whether he loved her like she wanted him to or not.

___

They stop in a small town overnight due to Emily’s insistence that they do so, claiming he needs a rest.

The small lodge they find is beautiful, and it’s nice enough they decide to accept the one remaining room they have instead of risking going to the next town over in the hopes of finding a place with two rooms.

The room is basic, with two double beds and a vanity with an adjoining bathroom, but it was good enough for one night. They decide to go to a bar just up the street, not quite ready for bed yet.

Aaron watches as she waits for their drinks, a smile on his face as he sees the bartender clearly attempting to flirt with her as Emily turns him down at every chance. He feels jealousy lick at his insides at the mere sight of another man talking to her like that, and he shakes his head at himself.

Emily walks over, a glass in each hand, and joins him at their table. “That guy was… persistent,” she comments as she sits down, a joking tone to her voice.

“He’ll have a restraining order if he isn’t careful,” Aaron quips, looking at the man over Emily’s shoulder and glaring at him, getting some satisfaction in the speed that he pretends to look busy.

She laughs, drawing his attention back towards her, and she’s looking him up and down, “It’s not too loud in here for you, is it?” He shakes his head, grateful that she’d asked. It was mostly quiet, just a few locals and a jukebox in the corner. She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling with something close to mischief, “You not going to drink that? It’s the finest scotch you’ll find in the middle of nowhere Virginia.”

He chuckles half-heartedly, staring at the drink she’d handed him. Whilst he’d never had a problem with it himself, he had a complicated relationship with alcohol and didn’t want to fall into the same traps that had ruined his childhood. Scars, both physical and mental, that had never truly faded. Left behind by a man who had never truly cared about anyone other than himself.

“Aaron?”

He looks up at her and sees the concern in her eyes, and realises he must have drifted off, his thoughts blocking out anything except his past. He sighs, his jaw tight.

“My dad was an alcoholic,” Aaron admits, the words escaping from nowhere, unaware he was going to say them until he sees her reaction. It’s tiny, a slight raise of her eyebrows as her eyes stay fixed on his, but it’s enough to encourage him to keep on going, wanting nothing more than to bask in her comfort. He looks at his untouched scotch, and a bitter laugh leaves his lips, “I keep waiting for the day when I can have a drink without thinking of him,” he looks up at her, “I always ask myself if this is the one that will turn me into him, if in 40 years Jack will be sat in a bar somewhere wondering the same thing.”

“That won’t happen,” Emily says, sounding so confident even though she’d never met the man that he wants to believe her. She reaches over and puts her hand over his, their long-standing embargo on touching each other clearly broken. He finds that he doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to forget how it feels to have her skin over his, “You’re an amazing father. Jack loves you and worships the ground you walk on.”

“I don’t know,” Aaron sighs, finally taking a sip of his scotch, and placing the glass back down, “Don’t we all turn into our parents eventually?” He sees her flinch, a momentary thing that flashes across her face and she withdraws her hand from him, offering him a tight smile before she has a sip of her wine. He winces, realising what he’s said, the pain in his head making him slower than usual, less cautious. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head at him, lets him know he has nothing to be sorry for and she looks down at her hands.

“If I have a really bad day,” she starts, licking at the corner of her lip as she sighs, a humourless laugh escaping her, “And I mean a terrible, it feels like the world is ending kind of day, I won’t have a drink. I’ll order in some take out, smoke a cigarette from my secret stash,” she says, and he smiles at her, something endearing about the admittance that warms his chest, “And maybe make a hot chocolate. But I’ll leave the scotch, or the wine, to a different day.”

He looks at her curiously, taking another sip of his drink as he waits her out. He knew she was like him, that she needed time to process things, to say what she wanted to say. Everything she said was measured, and she rarely spoke with an emotional reaction. A side effect of the training she’d had as a child, taught from an early age that everything she said, and felt, would be the target of scrutiny.

“My mother started to drink after my dad left,” she says, looking down at her hands, shaking her head at the memory, “It was always a part of her life, part of her work. But it got worse. And by the time she stopped a decade later there was enough damage to her liver that she needed surgery,” she looks up at him, her lips in a tight line, “Did you know if you have had a drinking problem you won’t always qualify for a transplant?” She asks, and he nods, “Well, I didn’t before then. I was a match so…I gave up one hell of a job opportunity with Interpol to donate her some of my liver.” He stares at her, unsure what to say, unsure if there was anything he could say, and she carries on, the words seemingly spilling out of her now she had started, “We both recovered and have barely spoken about it since. She never drank again though, which is the closest she’s ever come to saying thank you,”

She’d never said it out loud, never spoken about this with anyone who wasn’t her mother, the surgeon who did the procedure or her doctor, and she knows it's because she trusts him. That this conversation will go no further, that he’ll never talk about it again unless she wants to. He was a fortress of his own secrets, and now he was starting to keep hers safe too. Locked up and tucked in next to his.

“I had no idea,” he says and she smiles sadly at him, watches as he clearly goes over the interactions he’d had with her mother in the few times he’d met her.

“You wouldn’t,” she replies, “She was very high functioning, and now she acts like it never happened,” she blows out a steady breath, shaking her head at herself, “It’s probably for the best, we’ve never had the kind of relationship where we could just talk.”

Emily remembers how she had, naively, hoped the surgery would change that. That by literally giving a part of herself to her mother, things would improve between them. She still had stitches in her abdomen when it became clear that wasn’t true, her mother’s damning comments about how awful she looked one of the very few times she could class Elizabeth as cruel. After that she’d shut herself off, got a job at the FBI that she knew would piss off her mother and moved to the mid-west, making her life smaller until she was ready for it to be big again.

“You’re an amazing person, Em,” he says, and her head snaps up to look at him, her neck twinging with the movement. Her eyes meet his and there is nothing but naked honesty and admiration in his eyes, and he smiles at her, “It’s true.”

She blushes, unable to control it as she lets the compliment, something he rarely gave out to anyone, wash over her. It was warm, comforting.

Something she wanted more of.

“Well, thank you. Maybe you could tell my mother that one day,” she replies, clearing her throat, before looking around the now mostly abandoned bar, “We should get head back to our room,” she says, standing up, “And try and get some sleep, we’ve got to get up early to finish our drive.”

___

The ringing in his ears keeps him awake, a near-constant sound that was slowly driving him insane.

He knew part of it was his fault. His stupidity in forcing himself back to work, back to something close to normal, partially fueled by his desire to get out of his empty apartment. The last time he’d been sick or hurt enough to stay off work was years ago, his marriage still working, his wife on hand to look after him.

The quiet in his apartment had almost been as loud as the explosion that could have killed him, his only reprieve was when he had visits from Jack or Emily, who came over whenever she could to keep him company. He turns his head to look at her, smiling at the sight of her fast asleep in the other bed. She’d made him take the bed closest to the door, insisting he could be the first line of defence if someone broke in in the night to kill them both, damaged ear or not.

He watches her in the low light of the room, allowing himself to be captivated by her in a way he never would when she was awake. On a basic level, he had always known she was beautiful, even when he was still trying to save his marriage as it crumbled around him, but as he got to know her beauty only deepened for him. She was smart, thoughtful, and empathetic in a way he could only dream of being. He valued her opinion more than almost anyone else at this point, and he would do anything to make her laugh, to see the smile he was sure would convince him to move mountains if she asked.

He knew what he felt for her was more than friendship, the emotions deeper in a way than they were for anyone else on the team, or in his life. Somehow, apart from Jack, Emily had become the most important person in his life.

He sighs as he sits up in bed, making his way to the bathroom in the hopes that when he climbs back into bed it will reset his brain. The flush of the toilet makes him wince, the sound loud enough to make the ringing briefly worse.

When he walks back out of the bathroom he has to walk past her bed, and he almost misses it, doesn’t hear anything because his bad ear is facing her, the ringing blocking everything else out. He only catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to look at her fully. She’s shifting in the bed, the peaceful sleep she had been experiencing just minutes ago gone as her hands grasp at the sheets. He walks over, sitting on the edge of her bed, and it’s only when he’s closer that he hears her muttering, and he’s sure he would have missed it entirely if he’d stayed in bed.

“Em,” he says gently, his hand on her shoulder as he shakes her, “Em, wake up.”

She jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he has to move back to stop their heads from colliding, and he holds her shoulders, one of his hands briefly drifting to her cheek to make her look at him, her eyes wild.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he assures her, “It’s me,” he smiles at her, “Nightmare?”

She nods in response, taking another deep breath as she holds the sheet over her in her hands, her fists tight. “Yeah…nightmare.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, and he’s unsure what to do, only used to comforting his toddler in these moments and he flashes a wry smile at her.

“I would have woken you up sooner, but I didn’t hear you.” She nods a tight movement that makes him wonder if he’s said the wrong thing, again. “Want to talk about it?”

She swallows thickly, looking up at him from the bedding over her lap, “It was New York,” she replies, clearing her throat, “The bombing.”

“Oh sweet-, Em,” he corrects himself, tripping over his words in an attempt to stop her from catching the term of endearment that had almost slipped free, “I’m ok.”

He pulls her into a hug that she gratefully returns, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she reminds herself that he was really here. That the twisted vision of her nightmare was simply that, something her brain had conjured up to torture her.

“You almost weren’t though,” she says, her forehead against his shoulder, “A few paces closer to the car and…” she drifts off, pulling her head back to look at him, “You could have died.”

“I’m right here,” he says, reaching for her hair and straightening out her bangs, his fingers trailing down her cheek until he’s cupping her jaw, “I’m here.”

Later, when she’d ask him why he kissed her then, he wouldn’t able to answer, to say anything other than it just felt right. He leans forward and presses his lips to hers, something he was sure he should have done long ago.

For a moment, she lets herself get lost in it, the feel of his lips against hers. The taste of his toothpaste on his tongue, but then she pulls back, her hand on his chest, fingers curling slightly into his shirt, as she heaves in a breath.

“We can’t.”

“Em-”

“I won’t be your rebound, Aaron,” she says, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. He frowns as if her comment was ridiculous, and she feels his hand on her lower back, his skin warm through her shirt, “You got divorced 6 months ago, and you’re still…recovering from that.”

He rests his forehead against hers, cursing himself for not making himself clearer, for letting her think, even for a moment, that he’d use her in that way.

“Emily, you could never be a rebound,” he says, pulling back to look at her, his hand more insistent at her lower back as he sees the look in her eyes, the uncertainty he had put there, “My marriage to Haley was over long before we got divorced.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts,” he says, cutting over her, his free hand cupping her face, his thumb pressing into her lower lip, testing the fullness of it, wanting nothing more than to surge forward and kiss her again. He sighs as his hand drifts from her face to push hair behind her ear, “I don’t know how to prove that to you, but would you let me try? If you trust me.”

She stares at him for what feels like an age, emotions tumbling through her chest, tangling together in a way she was sure she’d never be able to fully unpick. This wouldn’t be simple, she knew that it would never just be the two of them. He had an ex-wife and a son, and the team would no doubt also have opinions, but she wanted this. Him. And apparently, he wanted her too.

“Ok,” she replies, the tightness in her chest easing at the relief on his face, the way he holds her a little tighter, “I trust you.”

He smiles, nodding at her as he frames her face in his hands, pulling her into another kiss. She lets herself enjoy this one, her hands slipping from his chest to up around his neck, holding him in place. They only break apart when they have to, foreheads pressed against each other as they both heave in oxygen, their lungs burning in the most delicious of ways.

“I trust you too,” he says, the words whispered against her lips, his breath skipping across her face, and she smiles.

They weren’t the three words either of them wanted to say, both aware it was far too soon for that, but they would do for now.

___

May 2009

She counts the pairs of shoes twice.

It’s what she has to do in order to believe what she’s seeing. To be sure that it isn’t some cruel trick her mind is playing on her, or that she was exaggerating it somehow.

Her mother had always said she was prone to that.

Eighty-nine pairs. Eighty-nine people.

People who had just disappeared, missed by no one or missed by people who weren’t taken seriously. It had, after all, taken a man driving through a cross-border checkpoint to get listened to about his missing sister.

It makes her think of Jack like most cases did these days. The little boy, that she knows she couldn’t love more if she’d given birth to him herself, sleeping safely in his bed at Haley’s house. She knows she’d tear the world apart to find him, as would Haley and Aaron, never stopping until they an answer.

Part of her wishes they’d never gotten this call. That they were with Jack as they’d planned, helping him settle into the place he’d now call home when he was with them. But she knows this is where they need to be, that despite the horrors, the things she knows she will never unsee, they will get closure for the people who had died here.

It was the last thing anyone would do for them.

Emily sighs, shaking her head as she watches the crime scene techs line up the shoes. A hand lands on her shoulder and she jumps, turning to see Aaron standing behind her, an apologetic look already written on his face.

“Fuck, Aaron,” She exclaims, her shot nerves evident by her reaction, she wasn’t usually as easily spooked, “I need to get you a bell or something.”

He smiles tightly at her, appreciating her attempt at humour, no matter how much it falls flat. The rancid evil in the air, that he’s sure will cling to them like a bad smell long after they return home, destroying even her ability to cheer him up.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her shoulder as he leads her away just enough that they can talk without being overheard, a few moments of privacy they both desperately needed, “Are you ok?”

“No,” she answers honestly, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers, their position enough to hide it from those around them, not that anyone would judge them for it here, “Are you?”

“No,” he replies, squeezing her hand before dropping it, taking comfort in her proximity instead, “I don’t think anyone is.”

He looks around, sees his team scattered around the farm, spots Dave still sitting inside with Mason, and he wonders how much longer they can all do this. There was always another case, another person hellbent on destroying the lives of others with a justification only they could understand.

“This place is just…” she blows out a breath, a humourless chuckle escaping her as she shakes her head, “They must have all been so scared,” she turns and looks at the shoes again, rows and rows of them, before she looks back at her boyfriend, “We’ve got to find Kelly,” she says, an edge of desperation to her voice she’d never let the others hear, “She can’t…we’ve got to find her.”

“We will,” he assures her, even though he knows it’s a promise he can’t keep. They all need this, to rescue someone from this hell on earth. They needed something to make all of this, and the burdens they’d all carry afterwards, worth it.

“Alive?” She asks, biting the inside of her cheek as her eyes stare into his. It isn’t fair, that he can’t promise her that, but she needs something, anything, to make this feel better, even if just for a moment. She knows she’s been harsher than she meant to be when she sees the hurt briefly flash across his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Don’t be, I get it.”

It was something that made his relationship with Emily different to the one he’d had with Haley. They both saw the same things, experienced the horrors that came hand in hand with their work. He didn’t have to hide this bit of himself from her, worried that he’d say too much.

Emily smiles at him, a silent promise they’d talk about it all when they got home. Safe in the apartment they’d soon be sharing, away from anything that could possibly hurt them. She gathers herself and lets the Prentiss mask fall back into place.

“Did you need me for something?” She asks, and he flashes a smile at her, her ever-practical nature something he loved and admired in equal measure. “Derek and I were about to walk the perimeter again.”

“I actually wanted to show you something,” he replies, digging his phone out of his pocket before he unlocks it and hands it over, “I thought you could do with it as much as I did.”

She takes his phone and smiles when she sees it’s his message history with Haley, the most recent only a couple of hours old. The latest message from her is a photo of Jack, playing with the train set Emily had bought for him a couple of months ago. It makes warmth briefly spread through Emily’s chest, something she hadn’t thought she could feel, and she’s once again reminded of just how much she loves the little boy. The photo is accompanied by a message from Haley that makes her smile too.

‘Saw the farm on the news, and thought you could do with this. Make sure Emily sees it too. As soon as you get back I’ll bring him over.’

“That’s nice of her,” Emily says, passing the phone back to Aaron, exchanging a small smile with him, “Thank you for showing it to me.”

He shrugs, like it wasn’t everything, like this small reminder of the life that existed beyond this awful place wasn’t enough to get her through the rest of their time there.

“If I didn’t show you, she’d only ask about it and then I’d be in trouble with both of you.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “That was one time. And you forgot to tell her I’d scheduled his haircut, and he ended up with two appointments.”

He shakes his head at her, his smile fading as he looks around them, his attention needed elsewhere “You’ll be ok?”

She nods, “Yeah, I will be.”

“When we get home,” he says, taking a step closer, “I’ll make us hot chocolate whilst I ignore you having a cigarette.”

It’s a promise she knows he’ll keep and she nods at him, swallowing back her first genuine smile in what felt like days, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate where they were.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles at her once more before heading off in the direction he’s being called to. Emily sighs and grabs her phone from her pocket. She sends a quick text to Haley to thank her for the message, and to ask her to give Jack a hug for her before she puts it away again.

“Prentiss,” Derek says, and she turns to look at him and he tilts his head towards where he’s standing, “You coming?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she replies, already walking over, ready to get the job done. To hopefully save a young girl from the fate that so many people had fallen victim to.

They’d be home soon, and then they could put this behind them.

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanficiton

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thegrantwater · 4 years ago

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the bau on a road trip

~ as far as placement goes, hotch is driving, while rossi is in the passenger's seat. emily and derek are in the second row of seats (emily is behind aaron, so she can kick his seat when he drives too slow or she gets bored), and in the back seat are jj, spencer, and penelope (in that order)

~ derek and penelope both have their headphones in, listening to their own music to keep them occupied. reid brought two of his favorite books to read as many times as possible, jj is playing online scrabble, and emily is rotating between watching tiktoks (no headphones full volume) and reading a gossip magazine. rossi, thankfully, is the one in charge of the map, him and aaron chatting casually over the soft radio

~ 30 minutes into the drive, emily kicks hotch at a stop light and says she needs to pee

~ "emily i thought you used the bathroom before we left the station?"

~ "yeah but i finished my water already"

~ "wait we're stopping? can i get gummy bears?"

~ "no, reid, we're not stopping, emily's just being obstinate"

~ "hey!"

~ after spencer realizes they could be stopping he gets garcia in on it too, who gets derek in on it, and after 5 minutes of nonstop chatting from the four children he calls coworkers he pulls over so sharply that the cheetos jj had in her lap scatter to the ground. dave looks at aaron, because now jj's trying not to cry, and "it would only put us off schedule by 10 minutes and we're gonna be at the jet 20 minutes early anyways"

~ so they pull into the closest gas station

~ emily sprints to the bathroom while aaron takes this unwelcome unseen chance to stretch his legs, and dave goes in with the rest of them to buy snacks for the rest of the trip

~ jj gets two bags of cheetos just to be safe, and an arizona iced tea

~ derek gets a handful of protein/granola bars and a powerade (the blue one, any other is treasonous)

~ reid follows through on the gummy bears, getting a family sized bag of haribos to share with penelope. he also gets a hersheys bar, a mars bar, two things of kitkats, and one of those ridiculously high sugar and high caffeine cold brew cans. only once dave sees what he has in his hands and scolds him about the sugar he's ruining his body with does he grab a water

~ penelope goes for a bag of bugels and a red mt dew, as well as two bottles of water, because she knows spencer is gonna get thirsty and will complain about not having enough water

~ once emily's done in the bathroom, she grabs a bag of bbq chips and fills up a cup with their "fresh brewed" coffee, because she needs something hot if she's gonna stay awake for however long this trip lasts. she also grabs aaron a bottle of water and a milky way, because she feels a little bad for making them stop knows its his favorite

~ dave refills the tank and gets himself an iced coffee and peanut butter granola bar

~ hotch sees them all walking out with arms full of snacks and rolls his eyes, even when emily sheepishly hands him his gifts with a small "thanks for stopping" and slips back into the car (he doesn't let her see his smile as he rips open the milky way when they start driving again)

~ when he and dave look back at the profilers after another 30 minutes, reid has fallen asleep with his hand in the haribos, garcia is sipping on her mt dew as she taps away on her laptop, morgan has fallen asleep, and jj & emily are laughing quietly to a tiktok she found (no one mentions when one of the cheeto bags is in emily's lap and jj is munching happily on a bbq chip)

//oh my GOD i love the idea that they only have one van to use for a trip with everyone and emily acting like a little shit to hotch and rossi just bc she can//

#criminal minds #incorrect criminal minds quotes #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #roadtrip #dad!hotch and mom!rossi #emily's a little shit #jj just wants her fucking cheetos #cjwritescm

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garbagevanfleet · 4 years ago

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Brightest Blue (series)

PART TEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ ONLY! sexual content (finally), pot use, alcohol use Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: Okay, guys. If you missed it, this chapter is NSFW. This was the best to write, seriously. Love you all, don't be afraid to tell me what you think of it!

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack

MASTERPOST

Two weeks before the Saturday of the play, the forecast had called for a blizzard. “Polar vortex” they had called it on the tv at school, flashing graphics of a polar bear wearing a scarf.

After classes on Friday, you had asked Kate if she wanted to go for coffee. You had been working like a dog on the play - sewing and painting to the point where your fingers perpetually hurt and the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was the shade of green that every foliage prop was painted.

You ordered a caramel macchiato and genuinely tried to enjoy it, propping your legs up on the chair next to her.

“So,” she started, eyeing you like she had a bone to pick. She still looked so pretty when she was coming for your life. “We’ve been so busy with Josh, we haven’t had any alone time to talk about Trevor.”

You sucked in a deep breath and relaxed your stiff neck muscles, achy from behind hunched over while sewing. “Yeah. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

“I have not, however. So dish,” she requested, reaching into her purse and pulling out a tube of lipstick. She applied it carefully in her phone camera as you spoke.

“Josh did it,” you admitted, making her eyes flick over to you momentarily. “I mean, I still slapped him, but Josh was the one that gave him a black eye.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked carefully.

You shrugged, wrapping your fingers tightly around your cup, half to leech the heat, and half because you were anxious. “I don’t know. I was kind of upset, but only because he could have gotten kicked out of school for that.”

She just nodded for you to continue as she cleaned up the lines around her lips with a paper napkin.

“I mean, and for what? He could have been arrested. Just for revenge. I feel like the best revenge would be just be keeping your head high.” You rolled your eyes at the beginning of your statement, just for emphasis.

She stared at you blankly as she picked up her mug. “Aren’t you flattered? I wish a guy would punch one of my hookups.”

“I mean, it’s cute, but I feel like he did it more for himself - for his own pride, you know?”

Her expression changed then to something a little heavier, her features sharpening in accusation. “Are you for real? Like, for real, for real?”

You frowned at her, feeling like you were being scolded. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a long breath, looking dumbstruck. “I haven’t really pressed it because I guess I just thought it was something that everyone knew but wasn’t talking about but-” She paused, putting her hand over yours on the table just to really drive the point home.

“That boy has it bad for you.”

You knew your expression was ridiculous by the way she looked at you with pity. “What the hell are you talking about? Josh? Are we talking about Josh?”

She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and nodded.

“Kiszka?” you tried again, still refusing to let her statement sink in.

“Yes,” she said through a laugh. “Yes, your roommate Josh. Curly hair, hippy bullshit - that guy. I swear to God I thought you knew. I mean, there were times when I was like ‘does she actually know?’ but then I thought ‘there’s no way she lives with him and doesn’t know that’. You’re telling me I was wrong?”

You were struck silent for a few long moments. “Are you sure?”

Thankfully, she was looking at you like you were a puppy with its head stuck in a peanut butter jar. “Look at me. He punched a guy in the face for you.”

You closed your eyes and tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. There’s supposed to be a huge snowstorm this weekend. Now that you’ve heard me say it, return to me on Monday - after spending all weekend in the same place as him - and tell me you don’t see it then,” she said simply.

“Okay, I will,” you challenged.

“Okay, you do that,” she quipped with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest confidently.

+++

In preparation, you had gone grocery shopping together, picking out everything you’d need to be stuck in the apartment together. He had even made you take him to a thrift store, just so he could see if there was anything fun. In the end, he had come out with a card game in a box, still wrapped.

Saturday morning the snow started falling, this time in huge, fluffy flakes, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until Monday evening.

While Josh was in the shower, you decided to get everything ready for the evening’s festivities that you had planned together. You had gone to find a good cheese board at the market until you found out they were too pricey for your (nearly nonexistent) budget, so you ended up laying out different crackers and cheeses onto a circular pizza pan.

By the time he got out of the shower, you had grapes, pickles, olives, and chocolates laid out on the coffee table, and he caught you just as you were pouring each of you a glass of wine.

The charcuterie was his idea - actually, the first thing he suggested when you said you wanted to have a fun night in on Saturday. The three different kinds of alcohol had been your idea.

“Okay, it’s all yours,” he informed as he trotted out from his bedroom, dressed in a fresh set of clothes.

The shower was still warmed up, the mirror still steamy. You got a towel out and stepped in under the spray.

You took the time to enjoy washing and conditioning your hair - your mom had been sweet enough to send you some of the expensive kind you love. Once you had hinted over the phone that you were homesick and the smell of it reminded you of home, she was already googling it.

Once you felt sufficiently clean, you stepped out and dried off. The clothes you had taken into the bathroom weren’t anything special - you had chosen comfort over aesthetic - but they were warm, which is what you really needed as the snow fell outside.

When you joined him back in the living room, Josh was waiting patiently on the couch.

“Ready?” he asked, handing you your glass of wine.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You gestured down at the untouched food.

He smiled at you. “I know.”

You sipped at your drink as he gestured to the tv.

“Movie for background noise?”

You hummed in thought. “Maybe music?”

He nodded in agreement. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Whatever you pick will be perfect.”

By the time he had made a selection, you had nearly finished your glass of wine. “So, the costumes are coming along well. I got the cutest lace for the trimmings of Alice’s dress. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to see it from the audience, but she’ll look adorable in pre and post-performance pictures.”

He shot you a beaming smile. “That’s some master craft. Your attention to detail is unrivaled.”

You knew that he was just playing, but it still made your stomach flip.

“Should we play our card game?” he suggested, padding over to the kitchen and snatching the bottle of wine off the counter.

You watched his movements as he poured your glass full again. “Thank you. Yeah, we can. Or did you want to be drunker first?”

He hummed. “One shot each?”

“Of vodka?” you inquired as you picked yourself off of the couch. “Where are the shot glasses?”

“I don’t think I own any,” he admitted as he watched you rifle through the cupboards.

You shot him a shocked look. “You’re a college kid; why would you not own a shot glass?”

“Well, we haven’t needed it thus far. I don’t throw a lot of parties if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured around the empty room. “We’ll each just take a pull from the bottle?”

“Okay, you first,” you agreed, thrusting the bottle at his chest. He took it from your grasp with a smirk and then pressed his lips to the rim. He drank until the count of three before swallowing hard and passing it along.

You followed suit, except with more difficulty. He had made it look so easy, you had almost forgotten how vodka tasted. You swiped your thumb across your lips, wiping them dry in the process.

You took your seats back on the couch next to each other as the music played through the room.

“Charcuterie?” you offered, gesturing to the coffee table full of food.

“Yes, of course.”

As you watched him make a cracker sandwich, you spoke. “So, should we crack this game open?”

After he nodded excitedly, you ripped into the plastic wrap.

“Okay, it looks like it’s essentially just a questions game. We just draw one at a time and the other person answers them,” you explained after skimming the inside of the box. “And you have to finish your drink if you can’t answer it.”

He laughed. “Okay, ladies first. I’m ready.”

You pushed the stack of cards over at him. “No way, you ask me first,” you stated with a cheeky smile.

He raised his eyebrows at you but relented. As he plucked a card from the deck, he took a sip of wine.

“What is your favorite color?” he asked, leaning in and squinting like the information you were about to provide was essential to his existence.

You snorted. “Really?” He nodded, prompting you to continue. You hummed as you thought about it. “It’s blue.”

“What kind of blue? Like navy or sky?”

You shook your head. “No, more like that blue that’s so blue it hurts your eyes. The one that was a new pigment discovered not that long ago - so bright it hurts.”

He gave you a sincere smile. “That’s a good pick.”

“What’s yours?”

“That’s not how this game works,” he said through a breathy laugh.

You frowned at him. “Yeah, well. Then I’m asking you as a friend. Josh, what is your favorite color?”

He pursed his lips as he considered his answer. “It’s hard for me to pick, but maybe either red or orange.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached for the deck. “I could see that. Okay, your turn.”

You stared at the card in your hand that read, WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SLEPT WITH?

“Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes up to him, quickly nodding as you realized that he had been waiting patiently for you to read it.

“Okay,” he agreed cautiously. “That’s good. What’s the question?”

You couldn’t suppress an awkward smile as a heat rose to your face.

“It says, ‘who is the last person you slept with?’,” you informed in a humored tone. You even held it up for him to see.

He stared at the card like it just accused him of a heinous act. “You really got to answer the color question and I have to answer this?”

His intensity made you snort a laugh, though you were trying to hold yourself together so you didn’t spill your wine. “Okay, okay. I’ll answer it too. Maybe we can play the game where we both just answer it.”

“Do you just want to hear me talk about sex?” he prompted with a shit-eating grin.

You gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you- You’re the one that picked this game out!”

Your overreaction was clearly exactly what he had been looking for. You were anticipating his ribbing to continue, but it didn’t.

“The last person I had sex with,” he started, pressing his lips against the rim of his glass as he took a swig. “Was from my music theory class.”

“When?” you quickly asked, shocking even yourself.

“Is that part of the question?” he teased smugly, picking a kalamata olive off of the tray and piercing it with his finger before popping it in his mouth.

You licked your lips nervously. “No, it isn’t,” you admitted. “You don’t have to answer that, I was just curious.”

“You wanna get high?”

He was staring directly into your eyes when you looked up at him again.

“I feel like it’ll make it easier to answer these.”

You nodded at him, biting your bottom lip. “Yes. Yes, I do want to.”

“My room?” he asked, picking up both of your glasses as he stood.

“Your room,” you confirmed, following suit.

Through the slats in his blinds, you could see that the ground was completely covered in a white blanket of snow. You spent some time watching it fall from his bed as he packed a bowl.

“Here,” he said gently to get your attention. “You take the first hit. I’m going to light it and you’re going to suck in and hold it in.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Not too much though,” he warned.

The glass was cool in your hands as you took it from him. When he held the flame to it, you did as you were told before exhaling with care. He was looking at you with a proud expression when you met his eyes.

You handed it back over to him, waiting until he was in the process of taking a hit before you spoke.

“Tell me when you slept with her,” you demanded calmly, biting back a smirk at the way his breathing faltered.

It had turned into a game of chicken as you held each other’s gazes silently.

“You haven’t even answered the required question yet and you want me to do the extra credit?” he quipped.

“The last person I fucked was a guy from tinder back home, and it happened a couple of months before I left,” you informed him confidently. “I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a prick, so when we broke up, I went on a tinder bender just to feel something.”

A small smile spread across his pink lips as he listened.

“Now you.”

“She was my girlfriend last year. We broke up in April and I had a hard time saying no to late-night texts until the end of June.” His tone was sincere as far as you could tell, as were his eyes.

You were starting to feel the hit you’d taken by then, and you took a pause from the conversation to lean over the side of his bed and grab the bag of suckers you knew was waiting there for this very occasion.

The high washed over you in a gentle, pleasant manner, leaving you feeling a little dreamy.

“Sucker?” you asked, holding the bag open for him. He breathed a laugh - probably at you offering him his own candy - and then plucked one from the bag.

After he had it unwrapped, he held the bowl out to you again. “Want another? Or am I going to have to smoke the rest of this myself?”

“Yes, I’m sure that would be very rough on you, poor baby,” you teased.

He huffed a laugh, sitting up a bit straighter in his position. “You want another one or not?”

You stared at him wordlessly for longer than was socially acceptable, but when you finally spoke, it was with conviction. “I’ll have another baby hit.” You pulled the cards from the pocket of your pajama pants. “But then we’re playing another card, right?.”

He glanced down at the bowl and then back up to you. “When you say ‘baby hit’-”

“I mean I want you to blow it into my mouth with your mouth,” you explained cheekily, making him huff a laugh.

“You liked that, huh?” he asked, risking a dark glance up at you through his long lashes as his fingers played along the glass piece.

You knew exactly what you wanted to say - could hear it in your head, but your body felt tight with nerves at the thought of actually saying it. “Not as much as you did, I’m guessing.”

Oh, damn, you said it.

A smirk played across his mouth, his eyes half hooded. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have thought he was completely unaffected by your teasing, but you had been listening to his breathing, so you were perfectly aware when it changed slightly. It was just the smallest difference in sound like he was pulling in air through tighter lungs.

“Be careful with what you’re accusing people of.” A warning, definitely, but almost more of a challenge. In the months that you’d spent with him, you’d never seen him like that, but you suppose you wouldn’t have unless- Unless you were about to make him do something truly reckless.

You bit your bottom lip out of an anxious, excited energy. “Oh, my mistake then.”

The ball was in his court, and you could tell that he was expecting him to continue pressing him. A look of slight disappointment flashed behind his eyes, but you weren’t done yet.

You nodded toward the bowl, prompting him to glance down at it like he had forgotten what he was doing in the game he was playing with you. He kept eye contact with you as he brought it to his mouth and lit it. You watched the white smoke circle the inside of the globe before he sucked it into his lungs.

You tilted your chin up in invitation and tried to relax your muscles as he leaned in, his throat looking tight.

You felt his nose brush yours first before you realized you had closed your eyes in anticipation. The smoky smell hit you first when you realized you were supposed to be taking it from him. You opened your eyes and tried to breathe it all in, but most of it was lost to the room.

He had a tiny smirk playing on his features until you reached out and wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pressing his forehead against yours in an abrupt motion. You could tell he had his teeth clenched by how tight his jaw looked.

You couldn’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along the sharp line of it.

“Do you want me?” you whispered, voice barely there at all.

Through a labored breath, he responded with a smoky sounding, “What would give you that impression?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, but unsurprisingly, it came out sounding raw. Your fingers brushed across the short hair on the nape of his neck, the pleasant feeling causing his eyelids to flutter.

You leaned forward until you pressed your cheekbone against his, lips right by his ear, and pointedly asked, “Do. You. Want. Me?”

“Fucking of course, I do,” he spat through clenched teeth, sounding distressed as his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs pressed into your hipbones on either side.

“Should we?” you asked, pulling back so you could see his face.

“Probably not.” His words were humored, a melodic laugh accompanying them, but still somehow managed to not sound any less strained.

You considered what he was saying for a moment, relishing in the idea that this was the last moment before the point of no return. “Just one hookup,” you reasoned.

He smirked at you, looking all too smug and disbelieving. “Okay,” he agreed.

Patiently, you waited for him to make the first move, your heartbeat bouncing around like a basketball in your chest. When you felt his hands move from your hips, your body tensed, trying to predict where they’d end up next.

As he cupped your jaw with both hands, you melted a little, muscles noticeably relaxing.

The kiss was tentative at first - just a brushing of his lips on yours like he was testing the waters. He held your face like he was afraid that you were going to vanish into thin air - like your presence was the key to his existence.

You could hear his shallow breaths as he opened his mouth, pressing it against yours. His tongue tasted like the orange sucker he’d abandoned on its wrapper on top of the dresser next to his bed. You lapped at it, body rising as you shifted to crawl into his lap. With the way he was sitting, cross-legged on his bed straddling him was a bit of a strain on your inner thighs, but the feeling was oddly pleasing - like a warm-up for the workout you were about to endure.

He let go of your face to place his hands back on your hips, pulling your body as close to his as it physically could be. Before he could situate you too firmly, you started to unbutton your pajama shirt, and bless his heart, he couldn’t help but watch your fingers work.

“Is this really happening, or this just a super high fever dream?” he asked, shaking his head as he frowned like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes.

You wanted to laugh at him, but you could hardly blame his disbelief. If someone had told you even earlier that week that you’d be in this position, you would have rolled your eyes at them. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until it was about to happen.

The last button undone, you let the garment fall, the pink and white striped fabric slipping off the bed and to the hardwood.

The cool air was shocking on your bare skin at first, causing it to tighten - well, that and you could practically feel his eyes raking over your chest.

“It’s happening,” you assured, leaning in until you were speaking against his parted lips.

The feeling of him brushing the pads of his fingers over your nipple made your breathing shudder. When you tipped your head back, he ducked in and pressed his mouth to your throat, dragging a stripe across your skin with the flat of his tongue. Every part of your whole body felt hot, but none more than between your legs. You tried to grind yourself down on him, but couldn’t seem to get a good angle - luckily, he seemed to notice, and halted your movements with his hands on your hips, stretching his legs out straight.

He pulled back just far enough to see your face when he ground you down onto him, the outline of his cock slipping against your core. Even with all the layers between you, the feeling still made you crumble against him, a whine escaping your lips of its own volition. It was clear that he felt it too as he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering.

You seized the opportunity to get your fingers under his shirt, lifting it over his head as he held his arms up for you. Before he could prepare for it, you pressed closer, pressing a kiss to his temple and then nipping at his earlobe. The cool metal of his earring was pleasing against your tongue, and you reveled in the moment as he sucked in a sharp, shocked breath.

His hands snaked around your sides, palms wide as he cupped your ass and used the leverage to pull you against him again. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, he let a shaky breath escape him.

You could feel his thumbs hook under the elastic band of your pajama bottoms as he started to slip them down the cleft of your ass. Once it was bare, he ran his fingers over it, movement stalling as he looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Are you not wearing panties?”

You scoffed. “Not to bed, obviously. Are you implying that you wear something under those loose pants?”

The corners of his lips tilted up in a wicked smirk. “I encourage you to find out.”

You giggled at his confidence, sweetly nudging your forehead against his, so he didn’t expect the swift movement of your hand as you tugged the tie of his sweats down. The answer to your previous question was “no” - he hissed as you grabbed his erection, swiping your thumb across the head, glossy from the dim light through the blinds. It was just a tease though, because a split second later, you let go of it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth against his again.

As you pressed him back, he tried to hold you, but once he realized you weren’t just leaning on him for support, he relented. You laid him back on his bed, pulling back as you slipped your bottoms off the rest of the way.

“Jesus,” he breathed as his eyes took in the whole of your naked body above him. “Hang on.”

He reached to the bedside table and grabbed the bowl and lighter. After he sucked in another hit and set the piece back down, he tugged you in roughly, depositing the smoke directly into your mouth. You tried to hold it in like he had taught you, but you were much more interested in getting your tongue into his mouth.

Still, you were plenty high, so much so that looking down on his bare form had tears threatening your eyes. He looked so soft and sweet despite the position he was in, his eyes half-lidded and one hand behind his head, one on your bare hip.

You shifted until you could grind your core against the length of him, the wetness letting it slip through easily.

“Fuck.” You had thought it was an exclamation of pleasure until you opened your eyes and saw a scowl painted across his face. “I definitely don’t have a condom.”

You hummed through a smile. “I don’t blame you, I definitely didn’t expect this.”

He frowned up at you. “We can just try something else if you want,” he offered.

“Well, I’m on birth control, and given the length of time between our last sexual encounters, I’m guessing we’re both clean - I know I am.”

He stared at you for a long moment before really realizing what you were implying, but once he did, he licked his lips in consideration.

“Come here.” You weren’t sure what he was requesting until he grabbed onto your thighs and guided you up until you were straddling his face.

The thought of it made you blush, and surely your cheeks were hot to the touch.

He started with broad strokes of his tongue, just dragging it through. You briefly wished he had a headboard for you to brace yourself on, but your thoughts quickly became completely incoherent. You decided you were going to lean back instead, placing your palms flat on his bent knees. When you were completely comfortable and situated, he started pointedly flicking his tongue against your clit directly, first very soft and teasing, but building to something rougher and more deliberate.

You thought you were actually going to shake apart when he sucked your clit right into his mouth, rolling the bead of it around on the flat surface. When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you threaded your fingers through his curls, keeping him close.

The moment you lost it, everything in the room melted away from you - just a black expanse with flicks of color littered throughout it.

You took a moment to catch your breath, trying to bring yourself, at least partly, back to reality. When you pulled away from him, you were met with the sight of him - the entire bottom half of his face slick with your come.

He only let you watch in fascination as it dripped from his chin for a second before he was pushing you back, your head laid at the foot of the bed. He slipped his sweats off the rest of the way before crawling over you.

There was no way you could have blamed him as he pushed in, seemingly not having any time for a slow entrance - you did make him sit there, untouched, for god knows how long. You certainly couldn’t name even a rough estimate for the amount of time passed.

The spark of pleasure that shot through you made you throw your head back, your spine arching as you let out a whine.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” he breathed, through tight teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed as you ground yourself down onto him. “Keep going.”

Your eyes were closed, but you were sure he was wearing an awed expression. You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in until your foreheads were pressed together. When he started to move his hips, you let out a long, pleased hum, pressing your nails into the skin on his shoulders.

Your whole lower half was still incredibly sensitive, so every time he brushed you, it made you writhe a bit beneath him. “Mm, fuck,” you growled as he intentionally reached down and pressed his thumb into your clit, the feeling resting somewhere between “just perfect” and “way too much”.

He was biting his lip as he watched your reaction intently. You felt his hand snake down your outer thigh, gripping it from the bottom. He lifted it up, near-forcing you to wrap it around his hip.

The new angle was a different kind of feeling - something hot deeper in your gut like someone placed a smoldering ember in your belly. You weren’t paying attention to anything but your own impending orgasm, so you didn’t expect it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth over the bud, causing your hips to jerk against him.

When you opened your eyes and met his, you took a moment to absorb his expression - like he was seeing another dimension through your face.

You could tell he was close when his lips fell open, but that was perfect because he was taking you with him. You hitched your legs around his hips and squeezed, letting your head tip back.

When you came a second time, it was with his open mouth pressed to your throat, his hot breath hitting your damp skin. You let out a low whine, fingers tangled in his hair, probably a little too tight.

You suspected it was probably your muscles clenching in orgasm around him that set him off, a string of expletives falling from his kiss-swollen lips. His hips shuddered as he fucked you through it.

The other side of your collective climax was warm and fuzzy, like watching home videos from the ‘60s. When he was able to hold himself all the way up, you ran your fingers through his damp curls affectionately.

He was clearly trying to get his bearings, his breath flowing in and out of him like a tide.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding like he might not be able to speak any louder than he currently was if he wanted to.

You hummed through a smile. “So good, Maybe never better.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, the smallest hint of an upward tilt to his lips. “I’m high as hell, so I’m not sure what’s acceptable for our situation right now, but can I kiss you?”

“We probably shouldn’t,” you admitted, making his expression fall slightly.

He nodded at you in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Ah, fuck it, we’ll start going back to normal tomorrow.”

#josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #brightest blue fic #gvf #gvf fic

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eusuntgratie · 3 years ago

Note

"You can't both hold one of my hands and still expect me to carry the groceries." - ot3 prompts, Stiles/Derek/Isaac <3

They’re standing in line at the grocery store check out, the cashier eyeing them a little warily as the conveyor belt full of organic meats and produce go through, capped off by a massive jar of cheap sweetened peanut butter (for Isaac) and a huge bag of Doritos that Stiles will definitely finish in one sitting if he doesn’t hide them. Isaac is clinging to his hand as he fishes his wallet out, trying and probably failing to smile politely and normally at the cashier whose eyes go a little wider as Stiles stuffs his whole hand in his back pocket as soon as his wallet is out of the way. He rolls his eyes and ducks his head enough to peck Stiles’ cheek and then jams his debit card into the machine. The cashier gives him a sharp look and barks “you have to be gentle”. Isaac leans behind him to mutter “that’s what she said” and he and Stiles devolve into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. Her eyes widen even further and she looks between the three of them, horrified. Derek tries giving her his polite smile again but he thinks this interaction is probably past saving.

“Guys,” he rumbles, despite knowing that trying to get his boyfriends to behave in public is a lost cause. Isaac jerks his arm when he leans behind him to poke Stiles in the ribs, who snorts and snatches packs of Skittles and Reece’s cups off of the candy display and throws them festively into the middle of the pile of fruit. Derek levels him a look and he just smiles his sweet smile and makes his eyes go wide. He huffs and then gets a twin angelic look from Isaac. “Fine,” he mutters, and they woop and jump to high five over his head.

The cashier studiously avoids looking at them while she finishes ringing them up. Stiles snatches his hand once he gets his card back in his wallet, and he’s left with no hands to grab the receipt when she tries to hand it to him, looking like she’d rather burst into flames right here in the store than have to continue to interact with them.

“Guys!” he says a little sharper, trying and failing to extricate himself. Stiles grabs the receipt with his free hand, saying “thank you!” in his fake sweet voice. Isaac giggles. Derek shuffles them over to the stack of bags as the man behind them clears his throat. “Guys, I can’t carry the groceries if you won’t let go of my hands.”

Isaac pouts at him. “Then you carry them!” He huffs and they both drop his hands dramatically. Derek gathers all 678 grocery bags into his hands and fights off a smile as Stiles and Isaac wrap fingers into his belt loops, awkwardly shuffling alongside him out to the car, too clingy to let go of him but too spoiled to carry the damn groceries themselves.

“You are ridiculous,” he mutters, loading the bags into the back.

“You love us!” they chant back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

read on ao3

ot3 prompts | ask grace

#ot3 prompts #derek x isaac x stiles #grace writes

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auroracalisto · 4 years ago

Text

she will be loved, part three

summary: after nearly a year of the reader being in elijah’s care, it finally comes to light that perhaps her dreams are more than just dreams. the entire family also comes to realize that having an energetic human child is not as easy as it seems.

pairing: dad! elijah x child! reader, family! mikaelsons x child! reader

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: child female reader, mentions of abandonment, bad dreams, slight indication of visions, uh

a/n: i know it’s been ages since i posted for this but inspiration has struck. kudos to @thatweirdoleigh for the peanut butter idea <3

part one, part two, she will be loved masterlist

“Now, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” Rebekah asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

[Your name] sat on the couch, one hand gripping onto a jar of peanut butter and the other attempting to screw the lid off of it. The little girl stopped, slowly turning her head to look back at her aunt. She said nothing.

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “Do you even have a spoon? You cannot be using your hands, even if you’re the only one who eats peanut butter.”

[Your name] pursed her lips. She turned her head away to focus on the jar again. In the meantime, Rebekah used her speed and rushed to the kitchen, before she returned to the living room. She sat down beside her niece and took the jar from her. She effortlessly opened it and then scooped out some of it on a spoon for the little girl.

“Here.”

[Your name] smiled up at her. “You’re the best, Bekah.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “I know I am,” Rebekah said, kissing her forehead. “But no more getting peanut butter without someone around, okay? That goes for anything in the cabinets. You could knock something over and get hurt, sweet thing.”

[Your name] happily nodded and ate the peanut butter, kicking her legs as she sat on the edge of the couch.

—

Tears creased in [Your name]’s eyes, and she kept her blanket tightly in her little hands. She tried to stay quiet, but her tears just wouldn’t stop. She knew her family was there—but all she wanted was her father.

“She’s hiding behind the couch,” Rebekah said, frowning as she opened the front door for Elijah. “She’s been upset since you left. I don’t understand why,” she admitted.

“Thank you for calling me when you did,” he gave a curt nod before he made his way to the living room. “[Your name]?”

The little girl quickly scrambled to her feet. She took off in his direction, letting go of her blanket in the process. Elijah bent down, holding his arms open for the girl. She hugged onto him, trying her hardest to stop herself from crying. However, the tears just kept coming.

“[Your name], what’s the matter?” he softly asked, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort the child. He lifted her up in his arms, one arm behind her thighs and the other continuing to rub her back. “Talk to me, my love.”

“I had—I had another dream,” she cried.

Elijah furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” Elijah looked back at Rebekah, who stood by the doorframe, concern etched into her beautiful features. “Did she take a nap while I was gone?”

Rebekah shook her head.

Elijah walked over to the couch and sat down. He moved [Your name] to sit on his lap. “[Your name], what do you mean you had another dream?”

She just shook her head, not wanting to speak. Her hands gripped onto the front of his shirt and she just cried, never telling him the reason behind her tears.

—

Kol hated this. At least, he pretended to hate it. Secretly, he was jealous of Elijah. Elijah had his own kid. Something that doesn’t always happen for people of their kind. And yet, it happened to Elijah.

The stories, the bedtimes. The bedtime stories. He never had that growing up. And he loved it, now, even though if anyone asked him, he’d say it was ridiculous.

[Your name] loved it even more than Kol did. Not only did she get to spend time with her uncle Kol, but Kol was always so much fun when he read her stories. Her dad wasn’t the same way. He was good, yes, but Kol was so much better.

“And goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere,” Kol brought his rendition of Goodnight Moon to an end, slowly closing the book.

[Your name] was out like a light, and he needed to leave as quietly as possible as to not wake her (it wouldn’t be that big of a problem).

However, as soon as he made it to the door, [Your name] began crying in her sleep. Kol thought he was hearing something on the television playing downstairs, until it happened again. He frowned and walked over to the child.

“[Your name]?”

He leaned down beside her and gently shook her arm. “Hey…”

[Your name]’s eyes shot open and she let out a sob. She quickly latched onto Kol.

The poor girl was unconsolable. Her father rushed in after he heard her cries.

“What did you do?” Elijah quickly asked, coming to [Your name]’s side.

“I didn’t do anything,” he immediately countered. “She cried in her sleep. I don’t know what’s going on with her, let alone know why she would start crying, brother.”

Elijah pulled [Your name] into his lap.

This happened far too often for it to be something to pass off.

Elijah pressed a soft kiss to forehead. “[Your name], I need you to talk to me, love. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The little girl looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “No…”

“What?” Elijah stuttered for a moment, confusion washing over him. “[Your name]. Tell me.”

She quickly shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not good,” she cried. “It’s all bad. Very, very bad!”

“That’s okay,” Elijah said, cupping her cheeks. “It’s alright. I can make it better. I just need you to talk to me.”

She quickly shook her head. “Please… please just sleep with me, daddy. They go away when you’re here.”

Elijah frowned and held her close, waiting for her to go back to sleep. He didn’t press any further than what he already had.

—

“There’s something wrong with her,” Elijah said, nursing a glass of whiskey. [Your name] was off playing with her dolls, leaving the adults to talk.

Each of his siblings knew what he was talking about. There was something off with [Your name], but none of them could place it. She would hardly talk to them about what was going on. There was no way that they could actually help her when they had no idea what to do. And they didn’t want to compel her. They had told themselves not to, even though at this point, it seemed as if they were running out of options.

But it scared [Your name]. Whatever those dreams were. They did not want to scare her any more than she already was.

“We have to figure it out,” Rebekah said. “She’s been doing this since you adopted her, Elijah. It’s nearly been a year.”

Kol was deep in thought, staring down at the wooden dining table. “What if… it has something to do with why she was left in the first place?”

Elijah glared right at him.

“No, no, hear me out before you call me crazy, brother,” Kol said, raising his hands in his own defense. “What if her dreams caused her parents to disown her?”

“And she told them of her dreams, making them think something was wrong with her?” Elijah frowned. “Well, then, you would think they would take her to get help rather than dropping her off in the middle of nowhere, now wouldn’t you, Kol?”

Kol rolled his eyes. “I—it was just a theory, Elijah. Not a definite answer.”

Elijah looked away, downing his glass of whiskey.

Klaus looked at Kol, his eyebrows furrowed. “I hate to say it. You have a point.”

“Oh, not you, too,” Elijah sighed, running a hand through his once combed hair. It was mused at this point. It definitely wasn’t his first time stressfully messing with it.

“No, brother, Kol is right. What if she was left because of her parents? They saw this as some kind of witchcraft.”

“Klaus, you are talking nonsense,” Rebekah interjected.

“Am I?” Klaus sighed. “Am I really? What if they were afraid of her dreams? What if she spoke them into existence and that scared them?”

[Your name] stood by the doorway, clearing her throat to get their attention. She knew they were talking about her. It made her sad—they just wanted to know. She was starting to understand that they only wanted to help her.

“Daddy?”

Elijah quickly stood, walking over to his little girl. He lifted her up and kissed her cheek.

“I… I think I’m ready to tell you.”

“About what, little one?”

“My dreams.”

part four

#she will be loved #elijah x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #child reader #dad elijah x reader #dad elijah mikaelson x reader #child female reader #child reader insert #female reader #female reader insert #mikaelsons x reader #the vampire diaries #the originals #tvd #to #multipart

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lumelii · 4 years ago

Text

THANK YOU ~|~ NANAMI X FEM!READER

Summary: Tensions are high in the Nanami household. Outside influence (and bribery) are needed.

Content warnings: slight angst, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: This is my first fic on this blog, so let me know what you think! Big thanks to Moni for beta-reading this for me <3

word count: 2.0k

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

“I hate you!”

Nanami couldn’t stop his flinch as Yuuji slammed the door to his room behind him. He didn’t have the energy now to scold him for slamming his door. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh and walked back down their small hallway to the living room to collapse on the couch. The bottle of whisky safely locked away in the cabinet above the fridge called to him but he resisted the urge. When Yuuji finally came out, he wanted to be completely sober so they could sit down and talk this out.

He could have left the apartment right now, found Gojou, and throttled him after choking him on those concert tickets. Whatever had possessed him to think two twelve-year-old boys could go out by themselves in the middle of the night to the show of a band whose music was far too mature for them anyway, Nanami didn’t know, and he guessed Toji didn’t know about it either. Otherwise the idea wouldn’t have left the Fushiguro house.

As soon as Yuuji had seen those tickets, it was the only thing he could talk about, filling their daily walk home from his school with his excited chatter. Nanami listened as intently as he could while trying to push all thoughts of work out of his head, putting all focus on his son. But when he heard just what band the boys were planning on seeing, the conversation had deteriorated to the point where Yuuji had begun yelling at his father, uttering those final three words before entombing himself in his room.

Nanami had resisted the pull to argue right back with Yuuji, but a thirty-something year old man arguing with his twelve-year-old son was downright ridiculous, and he had to take the high road in situations like this. Even despite his outburst, Nanami would not budge. Yuuji wouldn’t be allowed to go to the concert, and he would go so far as to call Toji and suggest he do the same with Megumi. He wasn’t afraid to be the bad guy if it meant his family was safe.

A sudden knock startled him from his reflection to look at the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to stop by, and he hadn’t buzzed anyone into the apartment. His heart quickened unwillingly at the rising probability of who it could be.

His suspicions were confirmed when he finally opened the door and saw you, his very sweet, very attractive next-door neighbor standing there, a smile crossing your face when he finally appeared. He tried not to focus on how your shirt clung perfectly to your curves, or your jeans, though stained with something he guessed was peanut butter, emphasized your small waist and shapely legs. Your dog helped him focus, distracting him from your form as he curiously watched it lick a spot of peanut butter from your jeans.

“Sorry, he snuck out the door with me as I was leaving.” Your smile grew sheepish as you held up a plate filled with treats. “Sounded like you both were having a rough day. But I guess now’s not the best time?”

“No, please, come in.” Nanami stepped aside and allowed you and your companion to enter. “We’ve just had a long day.”

The large dog plodded down the apartment’s small hallway and stopped at Yuuji’s door, pawing at it once with a whine. The door opened just enough for the animal to slip through before it slammed shut again.

“Is everything alright?” The look of genuine concern on your face made his heart tighten just for a moment while you sat on the couch together. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, he’s upset I won’t let him go to the Raising Dead concert with Megumi by themselves.” Nanami sighed. “Unless I change all my beliefs in the next week, he still won’t be going.”

“Raising Dead?” Your eyes went unimaginably wide. “My mom wouldn’t let me even see them when I was 18. They’re a little…mature aren’t they? For someone Yuuji’s age? How did he even hear about them?”

“Exactly why I won’t allow him to go.” Nanami pointed out. “His best friend Megumi got the tickets from his,” he paused for a moment to consider how he could explain the relationship, “uncle. I guess they listen to the band together.”

“Well, I think you’re making the right decision, not that my opinion matters.” Your smile was soft as you rested a hand on his arm, making his skin burn in your wake. “I heard they rip heads off of chickens at their concerts.”

Your opinion is the only one that matters. He bit back the words and cleared his throat, shifting so your hand fell off his arm, but your touch still lingered. “It doesn’t change the fact that Yuuji is upset with me. He wanted the opportunity to go with his friend, and I stopped him from doing that.”

You considered this, looking toward the door to Yuuji’s room. “Do you want me to try to talk to him?”

“He’s pretty upset. Do you think he’d want to talk to you?”

“I could try. I had an overprotective parent too.” You grinned as he scoffed at your remark.

“I’m not overprotective.” Nanami frowned at her.

“You were one scraped knee away from sending him to kindergarten wrapped in bubble wrap for the rest of the year.”

“He kept getting hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was no malice as you paired it with a soft smile. Standing, you grabbed the plate of cookies off the table and started walking towards Yuuji’s door. He followed you, leaning against the wall where Yuuji wouldn’t be able to see him if he didn’t open his door fully. He watched as you took a deep breath before knocking softly. “Yuuji? I made cookies. Do you want some?”

There was silence for several moments before Yuuji’s voice finally came from the other side.

“What kind?” He sounded muffled.

“Peanut butter chocolate chip.”

Another silent moment passed, then his door opened just enough to let his arm through, feeling around blindly for the treats. You held the plate just out of his reach when he was about to touch the edge.

“If you want them, you have to let me in.”

Yuuji considered this, his arm going limp before retreating completely just as his door opened a fraction more. “Just you.” He emphasized.

You turned to him with a small smile and squeezed your way into his room, the door finally closing softly for once this afternoon.

Nanami started to take a step forward to listen, but hesitated at the last minute. Although he had just denied it with his neighbor, he was overprotective, and that side of him screamed to listen in so he could know how Yuuji was, but it was clear he needed his space. If Yuuji found out he had been eavesdropping, that would only make it worse.

He forced himself to walk away, changing out of his work clothes into a t-shirt and going into the kitchen to start making dinner while they talked. He turned on an instrumental playlist, not wanting to deal with lyrics while he was so deep in thought, his mind occupied with his son and the problem he was currently facing at work.

About an hour later (and several shameless tiptoes down the squeaky hall to see if you two were still talking), Nanami looked up to see you and Yuuji turning the corner into the living room/kitchen area. Yuuji kept his eyes on the carpet, kicking it with his socked toe while you looked between the two males expectantly. When Yuuji didn’t say anything, you elbowed him as a prompt. He looked up at Nanami for a second then back down at his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“For?” You said before Nanami could respond.

“For yelling at you. I was upset. I want to go to the concert with Megumi. But if it’s not safe, I’ll listen.” He spoke as if he were reciting a speech, but finally looked up at Nanami with an intense stare. “I still want to go though.”

“And?”

Yuuji lost some of his steel and looked back down. “And I don’t hate you.”

Nanami looked at you for a second, wondering what magic you had worked to get his stubborn almost-teenager to actually speak like an adult instead of yelling at him again. When you pointed and mouthed ‘All him’ behind Yuuji’s back, he took a deep breath and looked back at his son.

“I know you still want to go. But it’s not safe. Especially with you two going by yourself. If you find something else you want to go to, that’s not that band, then I’ll take you and Megumi.”

Yuuji looked like was about to start arguing again, but you cleared your throat and gave him a meaningful look when he glanced over at you. He relented with a sigh and a nod.

Now that was over with, Nanami walked around the counter and hugged Yuuji, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Yuuji hugged him back willingly before they both turned their attention back to you. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” The blond man asked.

You shook your head. “I should really go back home, I have to finish up a lot of chores I’ve been putting off.”

“Please stay.” Yuuji grabbed your arm. “I’ll help you tomorrow.”

“You have your own chores to do, Yuuji. And homework.” Nanami reminded him.

His son ignored him and held your arm tighter. “Please?”

Yuuji’s pleading won out, and after staying and having a jovial dinner of katsudon with the two men, you all sat on the couch to watch a movie of Yuuji’s choosing, one he promptly fell asleep to, his head on Nanami’s chest as he drooled on his shirt. The father looked at you, watching the screen intently as you tried to decipher who just was the killer in the murder mystery, sipping a cup of tea carefully.

You’d never know just how much he loved you. So he settled with the obvious for now.

“Thank you.” Nanami whispered over Yuuji’s head.

You turned to look at him, your brows still drawn together in confusion as if you didn’t know what he was thanking you for. When he nodded down to Yuuji’s sleeping form, you raised your eyebrows in acknowledgment and looked back to the TV screen.

“I didn’t do anything that wouldn’t have happened eventually.” You told him as you took a sip of tea. “He adores you, he wouldn’t have stayed mad for long.”

“Did he say anything?”

“I don’t want to betray his trust.” You admitted.

“Fair enough.” Nanami relented. “Would you tell me, though, if he needed anything?”

You smiled and nodded. “Always. Yuuji comes first.”

He thought he noticed a hint of sadness in your eyes at your words, but you were already up and gathering your empty dish before it registered. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Yuuji’s head, and with just the slightest hesitation, one on Nanami’s cheek. He felt his face catch fire as soon as your lips touched his skin, tingles emanating from where your lips made contact. He barely registered your own cheeks burning red as well as you started walking towards the door. “Come on, Koro.”

The woman and dog finally disappeared, leaving Nanami and Yuuji alone in their apartment. Once he carried Yuuji to bed and read a few chapters of his current book, he turned off the light and laid back staring up in the dark. No matter how hard he tried, his mind wouldn’t succumb to sleep. He kept thinking of you, not just your shared moment tonight, but every moment of the entire seven years you had known each other, memories he analyzed and went through with a fine-toothed comb each night before he fell asleep. Had he built up the glances the way you touched his hand, how you chose to spend your time with them rather than by yourself or with others? How you cared for Yuuji like her own, willing to help whenever you could? Were the feelings lying just beneath his carefully constructed surface genuine, ready to burst forth at any moment?

Were you in your bed, doing the same, thinking of him?

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #single dad!nanami #growing pains #the oikawa to my iwaizumi #fanfiction #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #gojou satoru

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motherjoel · 4 years ago

Text

you like me (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you unfortunately run out of tampons and theres only one person who can bring you some

a/n: i get terrible cramps on my period so this is honestly based off of personal experience

wc: 2.5k

tw: vomiting

“Are you sure you can’t make it Y/N? Girls night won't be the same without you,” Penelope begged through the phone. You could almost hear her pout.

“I’m sorry Pen, I really can’t. My uterus is seriously trying to kill me right now and I am in no position to put on a tight dress and do shots,” you laughed into the phone. Penelope sighed.

“Okay, I guess that's a reasonable excuse. I hope you feel better soon, my love. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay,” she said. You loved how sweet Penelope was, and although she was upset you couldn’t make it, she most definitely understood.

She let you go soon after that, so you decided to turn on the TV to take your mind off of the pain in your stomach. Your cramps tended to get so bad that it was difficult to walk- you sometimes even got dizzy. You decided however to brave the pain, going into your bathroom to look for some medicine to possibly end your suffering. Your heart dropped when you remembered you had left your bottle at work in your go-bag. Your heart dropped a second time when you couldn’t find any more tampons.

“Shit, shit shit,” you said to yourself, sitting on the bathroom floor and moaning in pain. Thankfully, your phone was in your pocket. You pulled it out and scrolled through your contacts, trying to decide on who to call. You didn’t want to disturb the girls night out, so you couldn’t call Pen, JJ or Emily. For obvious reasons, you decided against calling Rossi or Hotch, and you didn’t think Derek knew the first thing about menstruation. As much as you didn’t want to call your best friend and (not so) tiny work crush, he seemed like the best option at this point. Pushing your embarrassment aside, you hit the call button and let it ring.

“Hey Y/N, whats up?” Spencer asked. You would’ve internally squealed at his cute voice if you weren’t about to pass out from pain.

“Spence, hi,” you answered, said pain evident in your voice. Little did you know, Spencer felt his heart stutter at your use of the nickname “Spence.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, slightly worried at your pained inflection.

“Well, not really,” you sighed, pushing aside your embarrassment at your situation. “I’m currently having my time of the month and I have come to realize I am completely out of…. tampons. And medicine,” you blushed and so did he. “I was wondering if… you could possibly pick some up for me?” you asked, fingers crossed. He didn’t even have to contemplate for a second.

“Of course, give me 10 minutes,” he said before hanging up. You looked at your phone in awe before you were hit with another wave of nausea. Doubled over the toilet, your peanut butter and jelly sandwich from an hour ago made a guest appearance.

You had yet to move from the bathroom floor when you heard a quick knock on your door.

“It’s open!” you yelled, soon hearing the rustling of bags and footsteps following your voice. Spencer looked down at you with pity, setting the bag down on the ground and sitting next to you.

“Thank you, Spence, you really saved me,” you said, taking the bag from him and looking inside. You saw not only a box of tampons and some tylenol, but a bar of your favorite chocolate and a heating pad.

“My mom used to make my dad get her chocolate, when they were still, you know…” he trailed off, not wanting to mention his parents' early separation. You felt bad about his eidetic memory for once- that he had to remember even the bad things.

“Did you know that menstrual cravings are caused by hormonal imbalances? It’s theorized that the drop in your progesterone and estrogen cause an increase in hunger,” he explained, speaking with his hands. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What?” he asked, a confused smile on his face.

“It’s just… I'm sitting here on my bathroom floor with my coworker, who is incredibly sweet for doing this by the way, while I basically die from period cramps 10 minutes after throwing up,” you continued to laugh- Spencer just looked concerned.

“You threw up?” he asked, worry written on his face. You nodded, opening the box of tampons as Spencer walked into your kitchen.

“You need to eat something. I’m making you toast,” he yelled from the kitchen. You smiled and shut the bathroom door, taking care of business.

You brought the bag of medicine, chocolate, and the heating pad with you onto your couch. You plugged in the heating pad and held it close as you curled into the fetal position. After a few minutes, Spencer came into the room with a plate of toast and a cup of green tea, your favorite. You smiled and accepted the plate, taking the medicine with the tea and sitting back. Spencer continued to stand in front of you awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands slightly. You wordlessly patted the couch, motioning for him to sit down, which he did.

“Thank you again for this Spence, you really went out of your way,” you said, hoping he knew how thankful you were for his kindness.

“Of course, anything for you Y/N,” he said, trying to mask his blush after he realized how intimate that sounded.

“So… did I ruin your Friday night plans?” you asked, hoping he didn’t have anything to do.

“Oh, no,” he started, and you were relieved. “Well, I had a date, but-”

“You had a date?!” you yelled, hitting him on the arm.

“Ow! Yes, I did. Is that so hard to believe?” he asked, grabbing his arm.

“Well of course not Spence, you’re a catch,” you told him, and he blushed. “What’s hard to believe is that you ditched it for me! I would’ve been fine!” you lied, which was evident on your face.

“Y/N. You so wouldn’t have been fine!” he laughed, and you began to speak before he continued. “I saw a... friend in need and I helped them. Besides, I wasn’t really even interested in her,” Spencer said, looking at his fidgeting hands.

“Why did you agree to go out with her if you weren’t interested?” you asked, wondering why the genius, a man of reason, would waste his time.

“Morgan set us up,” he started, and you nodded immediately understanding- when Morgan was trying to set someone up, he was relentless until you agreed. “He thought she’d help me get my mind off of… nevermind,” he blushed, seemingly accidentally saying too much. Your heart cracked a bit at the thought of your crush having feelings for someone else, but you continued to pry.

“Ohh I see. Who’s the lucky girl?” you asked, with a bit of an edge.

“I can’t tell you that Y/N,” he answered, avoiding eye contact. You pouted for a moment. “Besides, I think she just sees me as just a friend,” he continued, disappointment on his face. It hurt you to see him upset but you couldn’t help but feel relief that he wasn’t about to be taken anytime soon.

“Well, I guess you can say I’m in the same position as you,” you confessed, not going into any more detail. His face visibly dropped at this- he seemed disappointed, but you were sure you were overthinking things.

“Well Y/N, any guy would be lucky to have you,” he said softly, finally making eye contact. Maybe it was your hormones, or maybe you were just feeling cuddly, but you scooched over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest. He raised his arms in surprise at first, before wrapping them around you.

“You smell good,” you told him, before regretting it immediately and blushing profusely. You could hear his heartbeat, which may have been at an elevated pace. You pulled away and he looked a bit disappointed.

“Would you… would you stay with me for a bit Spence?” you looked up at him, stars in your eyes.

“Of course,” he said softly. You sighed with content before another wave of cramps set in. You groaned and clutched the heating pad, once again in the fetal position. Spencer felt helpless, just watching you in pain. In a movement that surprised both him and you, he leaned behind you and wrapped his arms around you, basically spooning you. You were too in pain to react, but the feeling of his warm chest on your back had the ability to simultaneously soothe and excite you. He rubbed circles on your arm with his hand and you could feel your heart rate spike. You hoped he couldn’t see the blush rising on your face.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, earning a soft hum from Spencer behind you. Before you knew it, you fell into one of the best sleeps of your life with your long time crush.

The next morning, you woke to whispering from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You opened your eyes to see yourself face to face with Spencer- you must have turned around during the night and cuddled into his chest. Your face felt hot when you noticed he was still asleep- you slowly untangled yourself from him and stood up to greet Penelope, who had apparently put her spare key to your apartment to good use.

“I called it!” Penelope said, half to you and half to Derek, who was currently facetiming her. You shushed her and dragged her into the kitchen, Spencer still fast asleep on the couch.

“So that's why you ditched us last night!” she laughed, mouth wide open in shock.

“I didn’t know the kid had it in him!” Derek said from the phone. You were confused.

“What do you mean?” you took the phone from Penelope.

“You mean… Reid didn't… tell you anything?” he asked.

“No, I… I ran out of tampons last night and I called him to bring me some, I guess we just fell asleep on the couch,” you explained. He cringed when you said tampons.

“Why didn’t you ask me princess?” he inquired with a smirk.

“Derek, you almost passed out when I said ‘tampons’” you told him, he just shook his head. Penelope took the phone back from you just as Spencer walked into the kitchen.

“Oh hey, what are you doing here Garcia?” he asked, yawning mid sentence.

“I’m just here to drop off some pastries for my lovely Y/N to make her feel better. Although i'm sure you don’t need much help with that G man,” she said with a wink. You and Spencer avoided eye contact like two high schoolers with a crush. “Well, I guess i'll be on my way!” she announced, hugging you both and speedily leaving your apartment, which was odd- if anything, Garcia tends to overstay her welcome.

“Those smell good,” you said, walking over to the bag from your favorite bakery. He mirrored your actions, seemingly hungry as well.

You both ate the pastries in silence for a few minutes when you noticed Spencer had a bit of icing on his chin. Without thinking you reached up and wiped it with your finger, licking it off your thumb. He stood there, with his mouth open for a moment before his cheeks turned red. When you noticed his embarrassed reaction you immediately regretted it.

“Oh im sorry, I forgot you have a thing with touching Spence,” you apologized.

“No no, it’s okay. I don’t mind when it’s you,” he confessed, finally meeting your eyes for the first time that morning. You nodded and continued to eat your breakfast, ignoring the flutter in your heart.

“So, about last night…” you brought up the elephant in the room. “It was really nice,” you confessed, remembering the feeling of his arms around you.

“Y/N, what I’m about to say is either really stupid of me or the smartest i’ve ever been, but, I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he confessed, your astonishment written on your face. “And- and not in a friendly way,” he said, before frowning. “Well that sounded, wrong, of course it was ‘friendly,’ but I meant it as more than… that,” he finished, biting his lip. Your mouth was open, surprised at his confession.

“Oh, Spence-” you started before being interrupted.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer Y/N, you just made me so flustered and when I saw you hurting last night it hurt me too, so i thought it was a good opportunity to get close to you. Not that I was taking advantage of you! God that sounds bad, uh,” he made a face, trying to think of a better way to word it. You just wrapped your arms around his midsection, much like you had done the night before, and held him tight. He smelled like apples and coffee. You lifted your head to look up at him, arms still around his waist.

“Spencer, I’ve liked you for a very long time,” you laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize sooner, I mean I thought it was obvious when I always sleep on your shoulder during jet rides or when I bring you coffee like every day, or when I-” you were interrupted by his soft lips on yours. Your eyes widened before they closed, and you moved your hands to the sides of his face, his hands on your waist. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze.

“Sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do that for awhile,” he smiled softly.

“Oh, uh, no problem,” you replied, still flustered from the kiss. “You like me,” you teased, poking his arm and giggling like a 13 year old.

“Well so do you!” he laughed, poking you in the stomach. Your eyes darkened with mischief and so did his. Before you knew it, the two of you were on your apartment floor, tickling each other's ribs. Spencer eventually got the high ground, straddling you and relentlessly tickling you until you couldn’t breath. He stopped after a moment, looking down at you in awe, before you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him in for another quick kiss.

“Penelope’s gonna be so excited,” you giggled.

“Oh yeah, her and Morgan will finally stop teasing me about liking you,” he said, standing up from his position over you and holding out a hand to help you up.

You spent the rest of the day with him cuddling on your couch and alternating between playing cards and watching shitty reality TV (which he got surprisingly invested in), and it was arguably one of the best days of your life. And you knew from the way that Spencer kept stealing loving glances at you, he felt the same.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid/reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #criminal minds spencer reid #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #hotch #david rossi

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highfaelucien · 4 years ago

Note

Nesta/Az/Cassian for the ship thingy???👀🥺 we were deprived of their domesticity in the House of Wind

Pairings done so far: Luzriel

send me a pairing and I’ll give you some headcanons

falls asleep on the couch

-Honestly all of them. Azriel frequently finds Cassian and Nesta slumped naked on the couch after they had sex and then fell asleep afterwards. He makes a very miffed comment about them having fun without him. Cassian opens up a wing to invite him to join them, while Nesta sleepily flips him off. He acknowledges this is Nesta speak for the same thing.

-Cassian can absolutely sleep anywhere. In any conditions. The couch is absolute the least weird place Az and Nesta have found him napping in the townhouse.

-Nesta is guilty of staying up reading a really good book and then passing out. When Cassian finds her he flips to the end of the book and reads loudly from it to wake her up (though he doesn't ACTUALLY do this because she WILL kill him for spoiling her. So he makes up his own ending). Azriel, who is polite, picks up her book, marks the page for her, and takes her to bed.

-Azriel passes out, less likely on the couch, more so on his desk, working himself until he literally fades into unconsciousness. Nesta will deadass return the favour and pick him up and take him to bed. Where she will then grumpily sit on him so that when he wakes up he finds a tiny angry fae sitting on his chest glowering at him threateningly and telling him it is time to SLEEP. Azriel is a smart man so he doesn't budge. Cassian will ALSO carry him to bed when he finds him because Mother knows he needs it.

-Occasionally Cassian also finds Nesta and Azriel fallen asleep together on the couch after reading the same book together and having a lil book club over it. He fakes a HUGE tantrum over this because how COULD you do this without me!? you KNOW snuggles are my favourite thing ever!?!!?!?!?!?

makes friends with the neighbors

Cassian. Absolutely. The second they move in. And he puts in all of the 'friend making effort'. Azriel is a painful introvert and does not want to do this, but he's polite so he hovers awkwardly beside Cassian as he happily introduces himself.

Nesta stays inside and unpacks doing "something actually useful" as she pointedly yells at Cassian.

Cassian takes advantage of her absence to spin a long and boastful story to the neighbours about his dear wife Nesta. When he met her she had been cursed to just be the most hideous looking creature in existence. And you might think she'd have a good personality to balance that out? The sweetness of an angel, the most incredible kindness and generosity. Well you'd be WRONG. She's a monster. But I was patient and majestic, and I took care of her and cured her curse and- oh hello sweetheart.

As Nesta marches out of the house and GLOWERS at him then frogmarches him back inside. The neighbours are quite sure they will never see him alive again. Azriel is left standing alone outside. Gives an awkward little nod and tells them if they need anything to just let them know. Then he melts back into the house to prevent a murder.

is the adventurous eater

Cassian will eat legitimately anything. And there are very few things he doesn't like? but the things he doesn't like he dislikes VERY VIOLENTLY. If you attempt to feed this man peanut butter he will make your life miserable forEVER. He also likes to experiment in the kitchen.

Nesta is very much. She likes what she likes and she has no interest in adding to that. She's perfectly happy. She will make the effort and try things that Cassian specifically makes because she knows it's important to him. but she goes into it like she's headed to the gallows each time and as long as she takes a little bit that's fine. Nesta doesn't like new things or change in her established existence.

Azriel has a very discerning palatte. He can subsist on soldier's rations. But he's absolutely the obnoxious foodie of the group, surprisingly so to people who don't know him. Cassian considers it a Great Personal Achievement if, when he puts the first mouthful of food into his mouth, Azriel smiles.

hogs the covers at night

NESTA. She sleeps in between the two Illyrians, and no-one have any idea HOW but every night she manages to cocoon herself in blankets. Cassian has described her, lovingly, as his "little rotisserie chicken" assuming that she just...rotates and pulls the blankets in around her with every turn. Cassian and Az doesn't really mind, they have wings, and body heat, and have slept in far worse places. It amuses them.

forgets to do the dishes

Nesta. Azriel and Cassian both have that 'hyper neat military discipline' thing and they both get antsy if their spaces aren't clean. On very rare occasions Az will sometimes leave like the occasional tea cup or plate lying around and Cassian will take that as a cue to go and check in on him because he must be really distracted/bothered by something for that to happen.

tries to surprise their partner more often

Cassian does the surprising. Most of them involve nakedness and rose petals. He also occasionally does ridiculous things like hiring a band to follow Nesta around the city all day and sing a song of how much he loves her. Buys an enormous teddy bear for Azriel so he has someone to hold him while Cassian is at the camps - because sweet Nesta won't (sweet Nesta elbows him)

Azriel does like big important anniversary/birthday and they're always incredibly intricately planned and thoughtful.

Nesta and Cassian both tag-team Azriel for special occasions and force him to take some time for himself and they just make him do all of his favourite things and it's Wholesome.

leaves dirty laundry on the floor

Nesta, mainly, because again Cassian and Azriel are neat freaks. However, Cassian will take credit for doing this when he's stripping one or both of his partners for sex.

stays up til 2 AM reading

All of them, actually. Cassian far less frequently than the other two. Az does this literally every day until Nesta legitimately picks him up and carries him to bed. Cassian assists by whipping the remaining report paper out of his hands as they come in. Azriel grumbles about them fussing over him like a pair of mother wyverns. Nesta pointedly tells him he needs it and Cass agrees.

Sometimes Azriel returns to the favour with Nesta. Or he TRIES to. But he approaches and she just raises a finger, without looking up, and growls at him. Cassian claps a hand on his shoulder and tells him to just let her finish her book. He doesn't want to have to start writing that eulogy just yet.

sings in the shower

Cassian sings very very loudly. It is not good. He does it anyway. And he dances. Even when he's joined in the shower by his partners.

Azriel sings, but only when he's alone. Or with Nesta. She is allowed to hear, but only if she sings with him. It's quiet, and beautiful, and one of their bonding moments.

takes the selfies

Cassian. Frequently. Nesta is very changeable. Sometimes she likes it and poses with him. Other times he just gets a palm in his face and a rude gesture.

Azriel always point blank refuses to have pictures taken.

plans date night

Azriel usually manages it, Nesta is his co-planner. They both like things ordered, and controlled, and to know what's happened.

They let Cassian plan once and never again. for the general of the Night Court armies he's fucking terrible at managing restaurant bookings.

#nessian #nesta x cassian x azriel #nesta archeron #cassian #azriel #EXCELLENT. FINALLY. SOME GOOD POLYAMORY CONTENT IN THIS BUILDING.#acotar series #acotar headcanons #nesta x cassian x azriel headcanons #nesassriel #nesassriel headcanons #hehe #answer post tag #taryn answer #I AM DOING THIS IM JUST SLOW AND LOW ON SPOONS

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helloprettybb · 4 years ago

Text

makes everything better

Hey everybody, I told myself I wasn’t going to create deadlines for myself, but I really wanted to release something. It takes place around now, but IW didn’t happen so Steve is like 36 and the reader is in her mid-twenties. Bucky is the only one really mentioned, but just know, Tony and Nat are still alive.

summary- you and Steve are perfect for each other. you finish each other’s sentences, think of the same jokes and act practically the same. the two of you are so in sync and it drives Bucky crazy that you aren’t together already.

warnings- age gap, cursing, accidental fault in our stars reference oops

word count- 1.4k

“What do we need...” you drift off, opening and closing the kitchen cabinets. Looking for whatever needs replacements, you scan the pantry. “Okay, we need-”

“Graham crackers,” Steve finishes your sentence as he walks into the kitchen. You nod and type it into the list on your phone. Steve gives you a once over when he sees you making the list on your phone. You roll your eyes playfully as you continue to create the list.

You jump between the pantries, fridge, and freezer. You and Steve dance around each other as he writes his list, on paper of course. From an outside perspective, the scene looked insane as you went under his arm or he slid behind you. But for some reason, the rhythmic chaos moved smoothly as the two of you made separate lists.

The first time you went grocery shopping, you only made a digital list and unfortunately, your phone died and left you relying on your memory. The second time, you didn’t make a list on your phone and trusted Steve’s paper one. But when he emptied his pockets, he realized he left it by his motorcycle keys, which were still at home since you forced him to take you in a car. From then on, you went together and both made your own lists in case of an emergency. You get pulled out of your element when you hear Steve ask, “Ooh, did you add the-”

“Trail mix.” you say. “Yep, I even put down the specific Peanut Butter Monster. Because someone threw a fit last time.” You say the last part a little louder, knowing Bucky is only ten feet away in the common room. As expected, he pops up and whips his head at you.

“I did not! I nicely asked why you didn’t buy the ones I asked for,” Bucky replies defensively, completely ignoring the fact that he sulked in his room when he saw you bought the wrong ones.

“Sure,” you respond sarcastically, “Besides, I don’t see how the Monster trail mix is that much different from the Peanut Butter Monster.” You’re looking down at your list and comparing it to Steve’s. Occasionally, you quietly point out items he’s missed and vice versa, but for the most part, your lists are the same.

Apparently, your blasphemous comments about trail mix set Bucky off, since you feel his looming presence enter the kitchen. “You don’t understand, y/n. The Peanut Butter Monster has peanut-butter-coated pretzel balls, mini peanut butter cups, and Peanut M&M’s!” Bucky exclaims. You glance over at Steve as Bucky points out the differences between the two.

You lock eyes with Steve and he laughs a little, biting his lip to stay quiet enough for Bucky to not hear. You laugh with him, but yours is loud enough for Bucky to pick up. “Laugh all you want, but don’t come crawling back to me when you want my trail mix,” Bucky gloats. He leans against the counter and asks, “Why do you two go grocery shopping anyway?”

“Because it’s fun,” you both murmur, heads still down and eyes glued between the lists. Bucky scoffs at your responses. He’s silent for a while and you think that he left until he finally speaks up again.

“Okay, spit it out.” his blunt tone draws both of your attentions. Lifting your heads, you and Steve look up at Bucky in confusion.

“Spit what out?” you ask, furrowing your brows. Judging by Bucky’s short laugh, Steve must be mimicking your expression.

“Why are you really grocery shopping?” Bucky narrows his eyes like he’s trying to solve a murder mystery. He raises his hand to his chin and rests his elbow under his left arm. He looks the both of you up and down like you’re his lab experiments.

“What are we, your lab experiments?” you ask, and coincidentally enough, Steve says the exact same thing, in the exact same way and of course, at the exact same time. Bucky ignores your comment and proceeds to investigate the two of you.

“Hm, talking the same, acting the same,” he eyes you up again, “And even dressing the same,” You look down at your clothes and then Steve’s and what a surprise, you’re dressed the same even down to your shoes.” You must be together!” Bucky concludes.

You immediately protest, “No, that’s-”

“Ridiculous!” Steve finishes.

“You’re so in-sync that you’re practically the same fucking people!” You and Steve mutter language under your breaths and you’ve never regretted picking up that habit more than now.

”No, we’re not. And besides, I have a date tonight,” you tell him, hoping he’ll ease up.

”With who?” Bucky questions inquisitively, flitting his eyes toward Steve.

”None of your business,” you shut down, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going grocery shopping before the store gets too crowded.” You leave and Steve follows after you, essentially ending the conversation and leaving Bucky alone with his furrowed brow and gritted teeth.

“I can’t believe he asked that!” you complain, slamming the car door a little harder than you intended. You cross your arms in frustration. Steve takes in your anger and laughs a little.

“It’s okay, doll. I promise he doesn’t know.” Steve assures as he opens the garage. He pulls the car out and lets his hand rest on your thigh, a gesture meant to calm you down.

It works a little and you huff, “Fine, but still. He’s just going to keep asking and I don’t know how we can hide this any longer.” You look down at the hand on your thigh to avoid Steve’s gaze.

You and Steve have been dating for nearly six months. There are millions upon millions of reasons you didn’t tell the team, but one of the main reasons is how they’ll treat you. You’re scared the whole team dynamic will be flipped onto its head once they learn your status with Steve. What if they judge you for dating Steve, who’s nearly nine years your senior. Or even worse, they opt to kick you off the team.

Steve parks the cark and seeming to sense your worry, says, “What if we don’t have to?”

You look up at him and ask, “What?” While you were the one to suggest keeping your relationship secret, Steve didn’t seem to have any qualms about it. Occasionally, you could tell he’d be frustrated that he couldn’t just kiss you in front of everyone or have you in his lap while the team had a movie night.

“What if we just tell them?” Steve proposes, eyes unsure yet hopeful. It’s a big step in your relationship, but it’s one your ready to take with him.

You’ve been silent for too long. Steve’s insecurity is clear and he resembles the scrawny kid from Brooklyn more than the super soldier sitting before you. “Okay,” you say quietly, giving him a small smile.

“Okay?” Steve asks, relief slowly filling his eyes and color returning to face.

“Yes, Steve. I-I wanna tell them.” you admit, smile widening. You’ve never seen Steve so happy as he sweeps you into his arms and pulls you onto his lap. Pulling you into a deep kiss, he shocks you a bit with his balance of passion and gentleness. Lost in his lips, you feel warmth, happiness, and love.

He pulls away a little and asks, “How are we going to tell them?” You think for a moment with your hands rested on his broad shoulders.

Smoothing your hands over his shoulders, you suggest, “How about we tell them tonight over dinner? We’ll buy a cake for good measure,”

Steve tilts his head and asks, “Why cake?”

“Because,” you shrug, “It makes everything better.” Steve smiles and you lean back into him and connect your lips. Steve wraps his arms around your torso and you sigh lightly, feeling safe in his strong arms.

“Oh shit, Steve forgot his wallet.” Bucky thinks as he spots the brown wallet on the counter. He looks at the garage’s camera and sees that Steve’s car is missing. Stepping outside just in case you’re still there, Bucky walks out and sees the car parked in the driveway.

Walking down the pavement toward the car, Bucky thinks his ears pick up a moan, but he ignores it. And probably one of the dumbest decisions he’s ever made, he opens the driver’s seat door.

Well, at least you don’t need the cake anymore.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years ago

Text

Petrichor

aka the long-awaited Sad Buffy Fic™️ 🐶 This got smuttier than I’d planned, but what else is new lmao

Also: Canon compliance? Don’t know her (I also don’t fully understand the schematics of Alex’s house, but let’s just pretend I do).

Also on AO3!

(Oh, and Happy Season Four Renewal!)

***

“Your dog’s a little weird, dude.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

Outside, his beagle Buffy has been frantically running around and barking at the air for the last thirty minutes. There’s not a squirrel or bird in sight.

“Is she always like this?” Kyle asks, turning away from the window that faces Alex’s backyard to look at him.

“No, usually she’s pretty mellow,” Alex says, passing him a cup of coffee. He takes a sip from his own mug to stall before he finally admits, “She only gets like this when it rains.”

“Huh,” Kyle says, considering it for a moment before he adds, “Layla always hated the rain. Remember when we used to have to bribe her with peanut butter to get her to go on walks if it was too cloudy?”

Alex remembers. Kyle’s childhood German shepherd was usually fearless, but put her near any liquid that wasn’t in her water dish and she’d run with her tail between her legs.

If only it were that simple with Buffy.

“It’s not the rain that’s making her do that,” he explains, looking down into his mug. “Well, I guess it is, but not—not like you’re probably thinking.”

Kyle processes that a moment before he speaks up.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or am I gonna have to guess?”

Alex sighs again. “She misses Michael.”

Kyle looks skeptical. “How do you know?”

Because I miss him too, is on the tip of his tongue, but Alex hesitates. As melancholic as the rain makes him, he’s not interested in spilling his guts over it.

“Because Michael smells like rain,” he says instead. “It’s an alien biology thing, apparently, but you probably would know more about that than I do.”

“Oh my god,” Kyle says, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Are you saying she’s looking for him out there right now?”

Alex nods. “She’ll give up in about an hour, but, yeah. She smells rain and she thinks he’s home.”

“That is so fucking sad.”

“I know,” he sighs, and turns around to go find a seat on the couch.

“Like, Sarah McLachlan in those ASPCA commercials level sad,” Kyle continues as he follows him, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. “Wait, did you guys adopt her together? Like, as a couple?”

Alex considers how to answer that. “No. We were together—I guess as much as we ever were—when I got her, and he went with me to pick her up from the shelter, but she’s not—he didn’t adopt her with me. He was just around a lot when I first brought her home.”

“Mmm, I see,” Kyle says, understanding. “Maybe you should call him.”

“What?” Alex asks.

“You know, invite him over,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious. “Ask if he wants to come play with her a little.”

“What?” Alex asks again, looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Look, I may not be a veterinarian, but you don’t need years of specialized training to see that your dog misses her dad,” Kyle says.

Alex raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“Well, her other dad,” he amends a moment later.

Alex shakes his head. “He’s not—That’s ridiculous.“

“Is it? He was here when she was a puppy, man,” Kyle counters. “They’ve clearly got a strong bond if she’s missing him that bad.”

Alex knows he’s right, but… he can’t just call Michael and ask if he wants to come play with Buffy.

Sure, he and Michael have been on good terms lately—great, even, now that they have a common goal and have learned how to actually communicate without having two totally different conversations.

But, months ago now, Michael asked him to stay away. He told Alex he didn’t want to be with him anymore, that it hurt too much, and Alex understands that, really he does, and he’s been trying so hard to maintain the boundaries Michael wants while still being there for him any way he can.

And if he invites Michael over right now, it won’t be because it’s something Michael needs from him. It’ll be because it’s a miserable, rainy day, and Alex and his adorably stupid dog miss him.

And if Alex is being honest with himself… he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he calls Michael and Michael says no. Not right now, not when Michael’s absence in his life, in his home, feels like an ugly, gaping wound.

“Just think about it,” Kyle says. “You never know, maybe he’s been missing her too.”

When Kyle leaves an hour later, Alex registers the quiet and realizes Buffy’s stopped barking. Finally, he thinks, until he goes to the back door and sees her slumped up against the glass, looking absolutely fucking miserable.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

He opens the door and scoops her up off the ground. She’s a little wet from the start of the drizzle, but once she rests her head on his shoulder and huffs despondently he can’t bear to put her back down. He takes her over to the couch and draws the blanket around the both of them, hoping he can cheer her up with enough kisses and pats.

With the smell of Michael so thick in the air, he’s not surprised it doesn’t work.

He stays there with her until hunger beckons him toward the kitchen to make both of them dinner. When Buffy won’t touch her kibble, Alex scoops some leftover grilled chicken, rice, and veggies from his own plate into her bowl. It works, thankfully, but when she’s done she curls up on the floor with a sigh and Alex’s heart breaks just looking at her.

He ends up lying down on the floor next to her, his head cushioned by a pillow he dragged off the couch. The rain really starts coming down outside then, and Buffy starts to whine.

“I know, baby girl,” he says, curling more tightly around her. “I miss him too.”

He’s not sure how long he stays there before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out to see a text from Kyle.

Did you call him yet?

Alex sighs and rolls onto his back, his hip aching with the movement. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons, until Buffy huffs a huge, sad sigh again and he just can’t fucking stand it anymore.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself and takes out his phone again.

He doesn’t end up calling Michael. Instead, he texts him a picture of Buffy without a caption.

His phone vibrates a minute later.

Aww, why’s my girl look so sad?

Alex isn’t proud of the noise he makes when he reads that. He types his response, then deletes it, and then types it again. Nerves coil tight in his stomach when he sends it.

Kyle seems to think she misses her other dad. Wanna come over?

Alex drops his phone on his chest so he doesn’t stare at it. It’s another long, long minute before his phone buzzes again. He takes a breath before he reaches for it.

Michael’s reply is just three words.

On my way

Buffy barely lifts her head up off the floor when there’s a knock at the front door. Alex walks down the hall to answer it, massaging the tight muscles in his right thigh as he goes. He straightens up when he reaches the door and opens it to find Michael standing there, looking gorgeous as ever in a dark green flannel that’s unbuttoned practically to the middle of his chest, his curls a little damp from the rain.

“Hey,” Alex smiles, stepping aside to let Michael in. “Thanks for coming.”

“How could I say no to that cute face?” he replies, but the way Michael looks him over as he says it makes Alex wonder whether he’s actually talking about Buffy.

He doesn’t have long to ponder that particular nugget of information, though, because once Michael’s voice carries into the house, Alex hears the frantic sound of Buffy’s nails scraping his hardwood floors. Michael gasps a little theatrically when Buffy rounds the corner, barking as she barrels toward him at full speed down the hallway.

“Hi, baby girl,” he coos, crouching down to her level.

When she’s finally in front of him, she spins in excited circles at his feet, barking and panting while Michael pets her everywhere he can reach. It takes her a minute, but eventually she stops moving long enough to prop herself up on Michael’s knee so she can alternate between licking his chin and staring up at him with abject love and affection, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

It’s the happiest Alex has seen her in—God, he can’t even remember. He’d feel a little put out about it if he didn’t understand it on a deeply visceral level. When she looks up at Alex as if to say Look! He’s back! Alex can’t help but bend down to pet her too.

For his part, Michael seems similarly affected. “Oh, I know, baby, I missed you too, I missed you too,” he’s saying with a wide smile. His eyes are wet when he looks at Alex and Alex’s throat grows tight with feeling.

Did Michael need this as much as Buffy did? Alex wonders when Michael breaks eye contact.

“Oh god, uh, Alex?” Michael says suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “I think she had an accident.”

Alex spots the small puddle beneath her when Michael gets his hands under her arms and lifts her up onto her back legs.

“Shit, I’m sorry, hang on,” Alex says, making for the kitchen. “Make sure she doesn’t step in it!” he calls back on the way. He grabs the paper towels and some cleaner from the cabinet under the sink and heads back into the living room. “Sorry, she’s just excited,” he explains when he gets there.

“So I gathered,” Michael says, but there’s no hint of annoyance in his voice or on his face.

Alex cleans the mess quickly, and by the time he’s thrown out the used paper towels and washed his hands thoroughly Michael’s found himself on the couch in Alex’s living room. He’s lying back against the couch with Buffy on his chest, scratching right behind her hears as he talks to her.

Seeing them like that reminds him of the first week they brought her home. He has a photo of the two of them sleeping on the couch together, her tiny head stuffed under his chin, and Alex’s heart aches remembering it. He wishes he’d been strong enough to tell Michael what he wanted. Maybe if he had, Michael wouldn’t be rebounding from his short-lived relationship with Maria and Alex and Buffy wouldn’t both be missing him so fucking bad all the time.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, realizing he’s been standing there in silence for a few minutes.

“You okay?” Michael asks as he gives him an assessing look, his hand paused on Buffy’s back.

Alex realizes this is the first time in a long time that anyone’s asked him that.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lies, on instinct more than anything else. “You want something to drink?”

“I’d love a beer,” he says, and Alex welcomes the opportunity for a tactical retreat.

“You got it.”

He collects himself in the kitchen while he grabs two beers from the fridge, uncapping them before he walks back into the living room. Alex hands Michael his beer on his way to sit down on the other end of the couch.

“Thanks,” Michael smiles as he takes the bottle Alex offers. Buffy sniffs the bottle when he goes to take a sip, but Michael holds it out of reach and explains, “No, this isn’t for puppies.”

Alex can’t help but laugh as he props his left elbow on the back of the couch to watch them.

Michael takes a long pull from the bottle and then sets it down on the end table next to him so he can keep petting Buffy uninterrupted.

“She really did miss me, huh?” Michael wonders aloud, as if the very idea that someone would is novel or unbelievable.

“Of course she did,” Alex says, placing his beer on the coffee table and scooting closer so he can pet her with his right hand. He doesn’t quite realize until it’s too late that he’s put himself right next to Michael, his right bicep almost brushing Alex’s chest. He studiously keeps his eyes on Buffy as he adds, “She loves you.”

Out of the corner of Alex’s eye, he sees Michael’s mouth turn up in a soft smile. “I love her too.”

They chat idly while Buffy soaks up Michael’s attention—Michael tells Alex all about a new experiment he’s working on with Liz that has exciting implications for something Alex would need at least two astrophysics degrees to understand, and Alex shares that he’s been keeping himself busy with music again, much to Michael’s delight.

After years of going back and forth between fucking Michael and fighting with him, it’s nice to just talk to him for a change.

The conversation makes its way back around to Buffy when she shuffles her way up Michael’s chest to fit her nose right under his chin, her eyes drifting shut for a nap. When Michael laughs and drops a kiss on the soft patch of fur between her eyes, Alex’s finds the strength to take Kyle’s advice.

“Look, I, um,” Alex starts, shifting on the couch, “I was actually thinking maybe you could… come around sometimes. To play with her.”

“What, like visitation?” Michael asks with an eyebrow raised. “I get joint custody on the weekends?”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like she’s our kid.”

And, wow, he should not have vocalized that thought because as soon as the words are out of his mouth Alex is hit by a whole fucking wave of feelings he does not have the time nor the ability to unpack right now, and by the look of it so is Michael.

“Hey, you’re the one who called me her dad,” Michael points out, a second too late for it to sound completely casual.

“Technically, Kyle did,” Alex flushes, but gestures to where Buffy is snuggled into his neck, finally at peace. “But look at her. She misses you.”

“Just her, huh?” Michael asks, so quietly that for a second Alex thinks he’s imagined it, but then Michael’s hand slides down from the back of Buffy’s neck to cover Alex’s own where it’s resting on her back.

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He chances a look at Michael, and what a fucking mistake that is because Michael’s honey-gold eyes are staring right at him and Alex forgets how to breathe.

“You miss me, too, Alex?” Michael asks, something that sounds a little like hope in his voice.

Alex looks at Michael for a moment, his head and heart at war the way they always are when it comes to him.

“Yeah,” Alex finally admits, a bone-deep exhaustion hitting him as the confession crosses his lips. “I do.”

Michael nods, processing that. “I miss you too,” he says after a long minute, his thumb stroking over the back of Alex’s hand, and Alex fights against the urge to pull his hand away because this doesn’t just feel important, it feels fucking monumental, but how can he even think with Michael touching him like that?

“Stop,” Alex begs softly. “Please. If you don’t mean it, or if you’re not ready, I need you to stop.”

When Michael doesn’t say anything, Alex closes his eyes, the inside of his bottom lip caught tight between his teeth to keep from losing it. He’s felt like he’s on the edge of something all day and Michael sitting here, teasing him with the offer of more, it’s just too much.

Alex feels Michael let go of his hand, feels Buffy disappear from under his palm, hears his leather couch squeak under Michael’s shifting weight and fuck how has he fucked this up already, he’s barely even said anything—

Alex flinches when he feels the warmth of Michael’s palm against his cheek.

“Alex,” he whispers. “Open your eyes.”

Alex does, swallowing hard as he meets Michael’s gaze, his eyes shining with tears.

“I mean it,” Michael tells him, his expression sincere.

“You do?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course, I do,” Michael says, leaning in to gently knock their foreheads together. Alex’s heart aches at Michael’s closeness, the familiarity with which Michael touches him. He never thought he’d get to experience it again. “God, Alex, I miss you so much I can’t breathe sometimes, I—”

Alex closes the distance between them without a second thought, finding Michael’s lips as warm and soft as he remembers. He pulls back a second later to apologize for cutting Michael off, for moving too quickly when he’s not even sure what exactly Michael wants, but Michael just makes a hurt noise low in his throat and follows after him for another taste, and then another.

Michael presses further and further into his space until Alex’s back hits the couch cushions with a soft thud, the top of his head brushing the armrest. Alex pulls away from Michael’s mouth with a slick sound, and as he gasps for air, Michael attaches his lips to a tender spot beneath his jaw and sucks, igniting a fire low in Alex’s belly that threatens to consume him.

He can feel himself getting hard as Michael worms his way even closer. He guides Alex’s left leg to rest against the back of the couch as he settles his solid weight between his thighs, continuing to pepper his throat with wet, sucking kisses all the while. It’s not until Michael dips his tongue into the hollow of his throat that Alex’s hips lurch upward of their own accord, seeking the kind of relief only Michael can give him.

“Michael,” Alex moans, eyes slipping closed as his restless fingers weave into Michael’s curls.

Michael hums his response and slips his hands under Alex’s ass, encouraging him to grind their cocks together through the fabric of their jeans. It’s rough and hot, too much and not nearly enough, and along with his spiking pleasure comes the daunting thought that they’re moving too fast—that they’re about to make the same mistake they always do.

“Fuck, wait, we should—“ he begins to protest, but Michael interrupts him, groaning unhappily against the neckline of his t-shirt before he lifts his head to look at him. Alex’s eyes skip down to Michael’s mouth automatically, that tempting shade of pink making it very hard to remember what he was thinking two seconds ago.

“Don’t tell me what we should do,” Michael begs him, drawing Alex’s attention back up his face, to where his eyes are wide and more than a little desperate. “What do you want?”

Alex stares at him as that question hits his ears, a “What I want doesn’t matter” already on the tip of his tongue before his brain even catches up with him. He’s spent so long carrying those words in his head and in his heart that he barely notices their weight anymore—not until it’s Michael staring back at him and offering him everything he’s ever dreamed of.

This time’s no different, and Michael must see it on his face because the look in his eyes softens along with his voice as he asks again, “What do you want, Alex?” He reaches up to cup the side of his face, his thumb brushing featherlight across his cheekbone. “I’ll give you anything.”

Alex swallows roughly, his eyes burning with tears he can barely hold back.

“You,” he answers, perhaps more honest than he’s ever been. His voice trembles as he adds, “I just want you.”

A brittle smile breaks out on Michael’s face, his eyes shining in the lamplight before they flutter closed as he leans back down to kiss him again, slow and deep and wet.

Heat starts to simmer between between them once again, the soft press of Michael’s mouth and the tease of his tongue driving all other thought from Alex’s mind. Michael works his hands slowly under his t-shirt and Alex hardly notices it happening until Michael rolls his thumb over one of his nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin.

Alex groans and shivers at the sensation, using his prosthetic—planted firmly on the floor now—for any traction he can get to press his hips up into Michael’s lap.

Michael smirks against his mouth, and Alex can’t help but catch Michael’s full bottom lip between his teeth in retaliation, making Michael whimper so sweetly that Alex lets him go and soothes the bite with his tongue almost immediately.

Michael gives him one last kiss before he pushes Alex’s shirt as far up his chest as it can go and dips down to latch his mouth over his right nipple. Alex sighs and drops his head back against the cushions, his cock thickening even further as Michael teases it into a hard bud with his lips and teeth and tongue, playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. He tugs it between his teeth and Alex gasps, arching his back and pressing his chest more firmly against Michael’s mouth.

After a few more minutes of teasing, Michael starts a slow slide downward, trailing wet kisses along the way as he charts a path down Alex’s belly toward the wiry hair peeking out above his belt.

“You want my mouth, ‘Lex?” Michael asks before dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

Alex’s stomach clenches as he pictures it—Michael going down on him with singleminded focus, looking up at him beneath his lashes as he sucks on the head before taking him deeper, sinking down until the tip of his cock is snug inside his throat. He’s always looked so good with his head between Alex’s thighs.

His cock throbs painfully at the thought, desperate for Michael’s attention, but there’s something else on Alex’s mind right now, something he wants with a ferocity he can’t quite put into words.

“I do,” he says, softly tugging Michael’s hair to get his attention. “Up here.”

Michael stares at him a moment before he gets it, confusion fading as a fond smile takes its place. He slithers up Alex’s body until he can hover over his face.

“You want me to kiss you when I make you come?” Michael asks him, rubbing his nose along Alex’s cheek.

Alex nods, not trusting his voice.

Michael presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to his cheek.

“I can work with that,” he says, moving closer to his mouth. He kisses him again, not more than a peck, before he sits up and leans back, resting his weight on his knees between Alex’s spread thighs.

Alex mourns the loss of warmth, but he soon forgets it as Michael strips his flannel off his back and tosses it haphazardly behind him, revealing his toned chest and stomach. His mouth runs dry just looking at him and he quickly follows suit, yanking his bunched up t-shirt over his head and letting it fall gracelessly to the floor.

He starts on his jeans next, but Michael’s hands bat his out of the way, one cupping his cock through the denim while the other undoes his belt with practiced efficiency. He teases his crown with the tip of his finger for a torturous moment before Alex groans and he gets with the program, tugging Alex’s jeans and underwear down his hips just far enough to free his cock.

The relief Alex feels at no longer being so constricted is instantaneous, and Michael takes full advantage of the situation, curling his fingers around his shaft and thumbing through the moisture glistening at the tip. He spreads it down the length of him as he starts to jerk him off, not firm or quick enough to make him come, but enough to make the pleasure that’s been building inside him since they started this flare hot and insistent.

Alex catches his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from crying out as his hips twitch upward, fucking his cock into Michael’s grip. When he tears his gaze away from where Michael is playing with him, he sees honey-brown eyes staring back at him.

“What?” Alex asks, flushing under Michael’s attention.

“Nothing,” Michael smiles, shaking his head. “You’re just really fucking pretty like this.”

Alex scoffs at that, but it only makes Michael more insistent.

“You are,” he says defiantly, squeezing his cock a little on the upstroke. Alex tries to bite back the moan building in his throat, but it’s easier said than done. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I’ve got my hands on you? Shit, ‘Lex. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he shoots back, eyes drifting south toward the dark spot slowly bleeding through the front of Michael’s jeans. “Why don’t you show me?”

Michael rises to the challenge, letting go of Alex’s cock and getting to work on his ridiculous belt buckle. He shoves his own jeans and underwear down his thighs as quick as he can and seconds later Alex feels Michael caging him in as he covers his body with his own, pressing up into his space to kiss him just like Alex had asked him to.

He feels Michael’s cock poking into his belly, smearing precome against his skin, and Alex hooks his leg around him to bring him closer until their cocks are trapped between them. Alex breaks the kiss for just a moment, just long enough to lick his palm before he slips his hand down his belly to wrap his fingers around them both, making a tight, wet channel for them to fuck into. The sticky mix of spit and precome isn’t nearly as smooth as lube, but it’ll do.

“Uh, fuck,” Michael groans against his mouth as he begins to rock his hips forward in a slow, steady grind. “Been a while since we did it like this, huh?”

Alex hums in agreement as memories of the two of them in the back of Michael’s truck, rutting together on a makeshift mattress that smelled faintly of weed, flash through his mind. A lot’s changed since then, but the drag of Michael’s cock against his still feels just as good.

Michael starts to thrust in earnest then, and Alex’s burns with every slide of his cock against him, with every eager kiss Michael presses to his mouth. His heart is pounding against his ribs and blood is rushing in his ears, nearly but not quite loud enough to drown out all the perfect little sounds Michael keeps making in the back of his throat.

It’s not long before it all overwhelms him and Alex shudders as he comes, his balls drawing up tight and cock pulsing hot and wet between them. He gasps into Michael’s mouth, too far gone to remember how to kiss properly as his pleasure washes over him, inexorable as the ebb and flow of the rising tide and strong enough to pull him under.

Michael follows him a moment later, moaning sharply against Alex’s cheek as he spills over his fist, adding to the mess Alex made. Alex jerks him through it, milking him for all he’s worth until he hides his face in Alex’s neck and starts to whimper, overstimulated. Alex lets him go then and focuses on catching his breath as the last of his pleasure fades.

Michael’s the first to move, bumping his way back toward Alex’s mouth to kiss him again, lips raw and slick where they brush against his mouth. Alex cradles his cheek with his clean palm to hold him there as they trade kisses, neither one of them quite ready to break the spell that drew them back together. Alex loses himself to it, so much so that he barely registers the quiet patter of claws against wood drawing nearer until Buffy hops her front paws up onto the edge of the couch and starts to lick his cheek.

Alex makes a rather undignified noise at the sensation of Buffy’s tongue on his face—not to mention the smell of her breath—and Michael laughs against his mouth before he pulls away to look at her.

“I’m sorry, princess, were we ignoring you?” Michael coos, and Alex isn’t proud of the way Michael’s low, rasping voice makes his spent cock twitch.

Michael reaches over the edge of the couch, feeling around on the floor for a moment, until Alex hears a sharp squeak. Buffy barks happily, lowering down on her front legs and wagging her tail, and Michael throws one of her brightly colored toys as far as he can across the room.

“That ought to buy us 30 seconds,” Michael says, leaning up between Alex’s spread thighs. Michael’s bare chest shines as he reaches over for the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table, sticky with sweat and come. He grabs a few for himself and then offers Alex the box.

Once they’re as clean as they’re going to get, Michael zips up his jeans and gathers their dirty tissues to throw them out. Alex likewise tucks himself away and sits up on the couch, nervously awaiting Michael’s return.

He’s just reaching for his shirt on the floor when Michael comes back, his head cocked to the side as he looks at him curiously.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, the corner of his lips pulling up into a lopsided smile. Alex gives him a questioning look, but Michael only steps closer and plants his hand on Alex’s chest, pushing him gently to lie back down. “I’m not done with you yet,” Michael explains.

Alex raises an eyebrow, but Michael just settles on his chest once more, tucked between Alex’s body and the back of the couch. He throws one leg over Alex’s thigh and his arm wraps around his waist, his chaotic mop of curls tickling Alex’s nose as he shifts to get comfortable.

The silence between them as they lie there is nice, simple in a way things rarely are for them.

That is, until Alex’s mind starts running away from him, age-old doubts and fears plaguing his thoughts. He loves Michael more than anything, but was falling back into bed so soon a mistake? Can they really make it work this time?

“Stop thinking,” Michael mumbles against his collarbone.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes with a sigh, dropping a kiss into his curls. “I just…”

“Hm?” Michael prompts him when he doesn’t continue.

Alex takes a breath before he says, “I just can’t believe we just had sex on my couch without actually talking things out first.”

“Really?” Michael asks, leaning up to look at him incredulously. “You can’t believe that?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Alex concedes with a laugh. “I just meant—I don’t know. I thought the next time we did this, we would be a real couple.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Michael’s face falls a little, his eyes sliding down to stare intently at Alex’s collarbone. He doesn’t pull away from him though, not yet, which Alex hopes means he hasn’t completely fucked this up.

“Who says we’re not?” Michael asks slowly, chancing a look back up at Alex’s face. Alex isn’t sure what he finds there, but it reassures him enough to joke, “I mean, we have shared custody of a fur baby remember? That sounds pretty serious to me.”

Alex laughs at that, his eyes warm and fond and maybe just a little misty.

“I love you,” he says, the words spilling out of him before he can contain them.

His heart seizes in his chest a little at the unexpected admission, but it’s worth it to see the joy on Michael’s face as he presses in close and whispers those words right back at him.

The next time it rains in Roswell, Alex wakes slowly to the sounds of soft laughter, rustling sheets, and raindrops tapping away at the roof overhead. He drifts in that space between sleeping and waking for a few moments, warm and content.

Buffy barks suddenly, pulling Alex firmly into the land of the living. He cracks open an eyelid to see Michael sitting up in bed and a very happy beagle demanding belly scratches on the comforter in front of him.

“Shh, daddy’s sleeping,” Michael scolds gently, and Alex’s heart feels so fucking full.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up, the movement drawing Michael’s attention.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Michael says, casting a rueful smile over his shoulder.

Alex smiles and shakes his head, shifting closer so he can rest his head on Michael’s shoulder and pull him back against his chest. He rests his right palm over Michael’s heart, his fingertips dragging lightly through his chest hair.

“Never apologize for being here when I wake up,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Michael ducks his head and smiles, his hand coming to rest over Alex’s on his chest.

Alex closes his eyes and breathes deep, the heady scent of petrichor filling his lungs.

Maybe rainy days aren’t so bad.

#malex #malex fic #rnm fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #been working on and off (mostly off) on this bad boy since before season 2 lmao #I hope you like it!

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lillywillow · 4 years ago

Text

Papa Bird

Summary: When Sam’s oldest daughter is chosen to represent her dojo in a state-wide taekwondo championship for her age group, she requests that her mother take her to the fight, leaving Sam home to take care of his youngest daughter

Word Count:1871

Square Filled: Next Generation Fic

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, breaking objects, protective/ proud father

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

That morning, Sam was busy helping his wife prepare their daughter for her upcoming tournament. He was kind of sulking that Darlene wouldn’t let him come with her.

“Remind me why I can’t go again...”

“Daddy, I love you but sometimes you can be a little bit... extra. Remember when I won the finals?”

“Can’t a father be proud of his daughter?”

“You can be proud but you celebrated so loud, they had to escort you out the dojo... Oh! And remember when I lost that spelling bee final? You threatened to beat up the judge...”

“Hey, you and I both know they were cheating,” he countered.

“Daddy...”

“Sam, you know your daughter has a point. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to spend some time with Amelia,” Y/N stated, pointing to the small girl who was happily enjoying her Cheerios. Sam smiled and kissed her head.

“You wanna hang out with daddy today, kiddo?” Amelia nodded and offered him some of her Cheerios which he took making her give a cheeky grin.

Sam couldn’t help but smile in return before helping Darlene get her stuff ready to go.

Once Amelia was done eating and the breakfast stuff had been cleaned up, Sam went to say goodbye to Darlene and his Y/N.

“Say, bye, mama.”

“Bye, mama,” Amelia cooed, opening and closing her small hand in a wave.

“Bye, Darlene. You go out there and kick some major a-butt,” Sam caught himself before he swore in front of Amelia and after seeing the reproachful look from his wife. Darlene grinned at her father and got in the car.

Sam watched with Amelia as they pulled out down the drive.

“What do you want to do now, pumpkin?”

“Red Wing?”

“You wanna play with Red Wing? Okay, let’s go play with Red Wing...”

A few moments later, Sam was controlling the drone while Amelia gleefully chased after it, squealing in delight. He got a little carried away and accidently knocked a vase from its perch and shattering on the floor as a quasi-violent reminder as to why he was not to use the drone inside the house. This time, Sam did let out an expletive.

“I tell mama!”

“No, no, no! Don’t tell your mother! Here, let’s get you a cookie. Do you want a cookie?”

Sam ran to get a cookie for Amelia which bought him a few moments of silence as he cleaned up the broken fragments of the vase.

“Okay, let’s go to the park instead. You wanna walk to the park?”

“Yeah! Park!” Sam smiled at her and went to prepare her little outing bag.

...

At the park, Sam watched Amelia run around playing and giving him a rest for a while.

“Hey, man...” Sam looked up to see Clint standing there, coffee cup in one hand and Lucky’s leash in the other.

“Hey, Clint. What are you doing here?”

“Taking Lucky for a walk... and your missus wanted us to check on you,” Clint replied, getting his phone and showing Sam the group message and sitting next to him. Sam grumbled a bit.

“She just wants to make sure you’re not driving yourself crazy... So, Darlene has a tournament today, huh?”

“Yeah... I am so proud of that girl. She’s already got her red belt and almost up to her next...” Before Clint could respond, a shrill scream filled the air. The two heroes jumped to their feet in preparation for danger only to see Amelia tearing across the yard.

“Doggy! Doggy, doggy, doggy!” Amelia was so excited to see Lucky.

“Amelia, what do you say?”

“I pat doggy? Pwease?” Amelia looked up at Clint with her big brown eyes and melting his heart.

“Yeah, you can pat Lucky,” he smiled. Amelia threw her arms around the dog’s neck and snuggled him. Lucky licked her head in return.

Clint let Lucky off his leash so he could go off to play with Amelia.

“That girl’s gonna be the death of me,” Sam sighed and sat back down. Clint laughed and sat back down next to him.

“Takes after you...”

“I know and that’s the bit that scares me...”

The two men continued talking and catching up when they were suddenly alerted Lucky’s frantic barking. They looked up to see Amelia had climbed up a high piece of playground equipment and was about to jump down to a lower platform. To the older and bigger kids, the jump may have not been so bad but to a child as small as Amelia, it could be disastrous.

“Amelia! Get down from there right this instant!” Sam bellowed, getting up to stomp over to her.

Amelia gave her father a sidewise glance before deciding she was going to make that jump anyway. Sam managed to get there in time just as her feet launched from the surface, catching her midair.

“Again, again!” she cheered.

“No, no more,” Sam breathed, walking back to Clint. “I think we’re going to go home for lunch. Besides, one of us needs a change of diaper.”

“Not me! I big girl! I use potty!” Amelia stated as a matter of factly.

“Right, just daddy then...” Clint laughed and called Lucky over to him.

“Listen, you won’t tell her mother about that little incident, will you?”

“Hey man, I won’t bring it up but if she asks, I’m not gonna lie,” he grinned.

“Great thanks,” he grumbled. “Anyway, see you later.” Clint said goodbye and headed off as Sam packed up Amelia’s things.

“Daddy mad?” Amelia asked her little lip stuck out in a pout.

“No, daddy’s not mad. You scared daddy.”

“I sowwy.”

“It’s okay, baby girl. What do you want for lunch?”

“PB ‘n J sammich?”

“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich? I think that can be arranged.”

...

After lunch, Sam put Amelia down for a nap which gave him the chance to complete a few chores without being interrupted by an enthusiastic three year old. He never thought he’d be suited to the quiet domestic lifestyle but he settled into it reasonable well. One thing Sam could never say was that it was dull. His daughters always kept him on his toes. When Darlene was Amelia’s age, she was just as mischievous and spirited. Sam wouldn’t trade his girls for the world.

An hour had passed by the time Amelia woke up from her nap and wandered out into the living room and by now, Sam was watching some trashy day time TV.

“Hey, Milly. Did you have a good sleep?” Amelia nodded, climbing up onto his lap and cuddling close to her father’s chest.

“Daddy, I hungwy.”

“You’re hungry? Let’s see what we can do about that. You want some... frog’s legs and wine? No? I thought all kids liked that stuff. How about some coffee and caviar? Not that either? What about...” Sam continued listing ridiculous food/ drink combinations that he knew a child wouldn’t eat as he made his way to the kitchen with her.

“Cheese! I want cheese!” she blurted out before he could get out the next combo.

“Oh, you want cheese... Should have guessed, huh? Let’s see if we have some,” he said, going to the pantry.

“Hmm... well, it doesn’t look like we have any. Guess you’ll have to have broccoli and green tea after all.”

“Daddy,” Amelia whined, pointing to the big bag of string cheese, her face visibly pained.

“Look at that. We do have some after all. Guess you’ll want a juice box with that?” Sam laughed at the eager way she nodded her head.

Once Amelia had finished her snack, Sam went back into the living room and changed the channel to the one that was locally streaming the tournament. Darlene’s division wasn’t yet up but it was coming soon. As he watched, Amelia got up and wobbled in front of the TV, ‘punching’ and ‘kicking’ like the big kids. Sam smiled and took a video of it to send to his family and friends later. He was sure that they were getting a little annoyed with the amount he could send in one day but he didn’t care. Sam loved each and every one of his girls’ achievements no matter how big or small.

Finally, Darlene’s age group was up. Sam watched as she stepped up to the mat. From his seat at home, he was cheering her on as if he was there. Amelia cheered too, not entirely sure why but daddy was happy so it had to be good.

Round after round Darlene won until it got to the last round. Darlene’s opponent was a girl much taller and bigger than her. Sam was on the edge of his seat as the match commenced. The girl was good but Darlene was better. It lasted a little longer than the others but in the end, Darlene won. Sam jumped up with a loud cheer.

“Yes! She won! Darlene won!”

“Yay!” Sam picked up Amelia and spun around with her. “Sissy won!”

Sam felt his eyes tear up a bit as pride swelled in his chest. He quickly wiped them away and continued celebrating with Amelia. Sam couldn’t wait for Darlene to come home.

...

Later that night, Sam had just given Amelia her bath and was putting her to bed when he heard the sounds of the front door.

“I think mama and your big sister are finally home,” he smiled.

“Yay!” Amelia ran to meet them, her little legs going as fast as they possibly carry her.

Darlene scooped her up as soon she got close enough.

“Hey there, baby sis!”

“Sissy! Sissy! I saw’d you won! Watch me! Watch me!” Darlene put Amelia back on the ground so she could show her some of the ‘moves’ she had learned earlier in the day which included an attempt at a headstand for some reason.

“Oh, wow! So good!”

In the meantime, Y/N walked over to Sam, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him. Sam smiled against her lips.

“Hey, handsome. Had a good day?” she smiled.

“Pretty good. We went to the park this morning, came home for lunch, Amelia had her nap, then we watched Darlene kick some butt,” he grinned.

“I see... you want to tell me why the vase in the hallway is no longer there?”

“I would very much not like to...” Y/N could help but chuckle and shake her head. She looked over at the girls who were happily playing together.

“We made some pretty awesome kids, Mr. Wilson,” she smiled.

“We sure did, Mrs. Wilson,” he smiled back.

For Sam, every day with his daughters was a new adventure as he watched them become the amazing people they were growing into. Sam loved every second of fatherhood and he couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow’s venture would bring.

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actuallybarb · 4 years ago

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The Aftermath ~ Part 1

Summary: y/n grudgingly goes on the school science trip to europe and starts making friends in expected and unexpected places

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio is a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what do you expect

Word Count: 2356 give or take

A/N: happy new year!! i can’t change the past (*endgame*) but i can at least make the future less bleak. i got too excited, so have an early release!

///////////

“I think you should go on this trip, sweetheart, I think it’ll be good for you to make connections with the rest of your classmates.”

I rolled my eyes at that statement. “Mom, they don’t see me as their classmate, they see me as the twelve year old who grew up in the blink of an eye.” I flicked my hair out of my eyes and sighed. “They don’t see me as an equal, they see me as a kid. And I don’t really want to be subjected to direct ridicule for a whole week.”

My mom gripped the railing to the stairs and breathed deeply. “We already signed you up for the trip, sweetheart.” She forced the words to come out nicely, or, she at least tried to. “You’re going on that trip whether you want to or not.” She turned away from where I was standing on the fifth step and almost stomped to the kitchen, trying to keep her composure. I knew she really wanted to throw and kick and scream until the cows came home.

I flopped on the bed and dialed the number of the one person who I actually made a connection with during the five years my parents took a “leave of absence.”

“Y/N, it’s been almost three days, I was starting to get worried.” Jessica, my foster mom of five years. The only person I smiled at when I talked to them these days.

“She’s so infuriating, Jess.”

“Tell me all about it.” Jessica was thirty when “the snap” happened. Thirty, and suddenly without a husband and a two year old. She found it within herself to open her heart to others that were grieving, and was connected with me. And I thank my lucky stars every night that she was.

“It’s the same thing, she expects me to be okay with how things used to be, and I haven’t lived with ‘how things used to be’ for five years, it’s not like I can just flip a switch. I don’t even really remember how she and Dad ran the house, and now they just kind of look at me and wait for me to catch up, but it’s not happening. Like just now, she tries to encourage me to go on this science trip for school. And, yeah, it would be fun, except all of my classmates still look at me like I’m twelve. So, I tell her this, and then she just bursts out, ‘Well, we already signed you up so you’re going,’ and just storms off. Like, god, if you had already signed me up, just say that, don’t listen to why I don’t want to go and just shove it down my throat as an after thought.”

“I think you should go.”

I deadpanned. “Did you not just hear my argument as to why I don’t want to go?”

“I did, and those are very valid points, your classmates should be looking at you as one of their own, not the little sister. But, I don’t think not going is going to help your case, either. You’ll just be separating yourself even more. And, plus, it’ll give you a week away from your mom, and I think both of you need some time apart.”

I huffed our the breath I was holding. “Do you always have to be so smart?”

“It’s a gift.” She was smiling into the phone, I could tell, and it immediately pulled a smile onto my own face. “Call me while you’re gone, I want to know about everything.”

“I will. Love you, Jess.”

“Love you too.”

///////////

The car ride to the airport the next day was relatively silent. Dad was driving, Mom was passenger, and I was in the back, my suitcase in the trunk. Mom insisted on helping me with my carry-on sized luggage, and I knew she was going to try to smooth things over with a few words of peace and love, but I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t twelve.

I closed the trunk and looked her square in the face, a move she was not expecting. “I would’ve been fine with you signing me up to go on this trip if you had just told me. You’re right, this is a good way to make connections, especially before senior year. But you made it sound like a suggestion, like I had a choice in the matter. And when I gave you some very solid reasons as to why I didn’t want to go, you telling me you had already signed me up was a slap to the face, because it made me think you didn’t actually care about my reasonings. I’m fine with you taking action, but just tell me, instead of making me think you actually give a damn about what I think.” I gave her a hug, said “I love you,” then walked into the airport without so much as a second glance.

Flash was the first to acknowledge my presence. “You okay, Y/L/N? You look like you got punched in the gut.”

“You’d know a lot about what that looks like, wouldn’t you, Eugene?” Despite my quip, I stopped beside him and set my bag down, keeping my place in the back of the group.

“Seriously, you good? I don’t want you vomiting all over my Louboutin shoes.”

“I’m fine, Flash, though I’m considering puking just because that sentence came out of your mouth.” He held his hands up in surrender and turned away, letting me fiddle with my phone in peace.

“Hey, Y/N.” Brad Davis, one of the few kids in my grade who didn’t get snapped and made it all the way to Midtown. Also one of the people I couldn’t stand. “Ready for the trip?”

“Your perfect teeth don’t fool me, Davis, so go ahead and take about five steps back and just let me stand here in peace.” He turned away in slight disbelief and annoyance, but Flash whistled in approval.

“Damn, Y/N, you turned him down quick. Why the dislike of one of your few un-blipped classmates?”

“Because I don’t trust anyone named Brad,” I replied simply.

“What about Brad Pitt?”

“He’s at the top of the list.” I looked up from the game I was playing and saw the faintest of smiles on Flash’s lips. I responded with my own, then returned to Candy Crush until Mr. Harrington paraded us through security and to our gate. Which we had to wait at for another two hours.

I somehow got squished on an uncomfortable bench/chair combination with Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, which wasn’t too bad until Peter couldn’t stop fidgeting. His constant tapping on his leg, or the armrest, or the ground, prevented me from getting a quick nap in before the flight. And that was bothersome.

“I’m gonna grab a snack, wanna come with me?”

His eyes flicked up to mine almost instantly. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Even standing, he couldn’t stop moving, and it was starting to get on my nerves. We made our way to a vending machine before I asked the burning question.

“What are you so nervous about?” I tried not to sound like I was accusing him; I even asked while I was punching in the number I wanted for my snack.

“Wha-What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t stopped moving for the last half hour, what gives?”

“Oh, I, uh, I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

One of my eyebrows rose in skepticism. “About flying?”

“You don’t think I’m a nervous flyer?”

“I don’t know, you never struck me as the kind of guy who gets nervous about stuff like that. I’d heard you had the Stark Internship before, I just figured you’d have flown with him or something.” I grabbed the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup that took minimum coercion to fall, but I still saw the flinch Peter gave when I mentioned Stark’s name. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

“No, uh,” he cleared his throat, “it’s fine.”

“It’s not, but,” I slid out one of the peanut butter cups and offered it to him, “it’s okay for it not to be.” He smiled tensely and took the offered candy, then pulled a bag of skittles out of the machine. “So, what are you nervous about?”

“You’re really persistent, you know that?” I just smirked. He sighed and leaned against a wall, still a fair distance away from the group. “There’s this girl I really like—“

“MJ.” He balked. “I caught you staring, it’s not a big deal. Keep going.”

He shook his head like he was straightening out his thoughts. “Anyway, I have this whole plan to tell her how I feel, and it starts with us sitting together on the plane, but I don’t know if it’ll work out, and I really want it to work out.”

I smiled. A crush. Peter was nervous about a crush. “First of all, I think all of this is adorable. And, second of all, I’ll help you.” I pushed off the wall and started walking back to the group, but Peter blocked my path.

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll help you. If there’s a way I can get people moved around to get you next to MJ, I’ll do it.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I kind of just bullied you into telling me why you were so nervous, I kind of owe it to you. And, plus,” I shrugged, “this is cute.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Our boarding group was called an hour later, and everyone shuffled onto the plane. Peter was sitting next to Ned, I was next to Brad, and MJ was next to Betty. Less than ideal for at least two of the parties. Ned came to MJ’s row and asked Betty to switch seats with Peter because his “allergies were acting up,” but then Mr. Harrington overheard and decided to intervene.

“Peter, Ned, up, alright, Ned, you’ll take MJ’s seat, Y/N, you’ll be sitting in Peter’s old seat, MJ—“

“Mr. Harrington,” I cut in, “all you have to do is have Betty and Peter switch seats. You can’t even smell the perfume from their row.”

He deflated considerably. “Betty, Peter, go ahead and switch.” He sunk back in his seat dejectedly.

I turned in my own with a smug smile on my face, but it was wiped off quickly when Brad opened his mouth. “What’s got you all excited?”

“I have ten hours of uninterrupted NASA conspiracies to get through.” Then I plugged in my headphones and hunkered down in my seat. I wasn’t actually watching NASA conspiracies, but Brad thinking I was weird would hopefully get him to stop talking to me.

After two hours of sitting next to a snoring Brad, I couldn’t stand being beside him. I stood up and stretched, but my muscles ached to be used.

“Is there something I can help you with, miss?” A flight attendant had seemingly come out of nowhere and almost scared me back into my seat.

“Um, I don’t think so. Just stretching.” She smiled and continued walking, while I stood there, like an idiot.

I went to the bathroom just to get my body moving, but there was turbulence while I walked back, almost throwing me into Betty’s lap. “Sorry, Bets.”

“No worries, Y/N.”

Despite the shaking, I couldn’t help but smile. Turbulence was something I could work with. I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes and focused on the weight and size of the plane, then I focused on the gusts of wind outside. There was a clenching in my gut, and my head nearly split from the concentration, but the winds ceased quickly, and I could relax again. Now I had a migraine, but MJ didn’t look like she was going to throw up.

//////////

We landed in Venice early in the morning, which was good for most, but not so good for the few of us who didn’t sleep on the plane.

“You okay?” Peter walked beside me once we got off the plane. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Nah, I got a migraine about two hours in, after the turbulence, so I was up the whole time. How was it with MJ?”

His smile reminded me of Bashful from Snow White. “It was good. She slept on my shoulder a lot of the way, so we didn’t talk much, but it was nice.”

“Good. What’s the next part of the plan?”

“I’m getting a—“ A dog sniffed his bag and he got stopped and was forced to have his bag searched. “Wha—“

“I’ll make sure Harrington waits for you.”

“Thanks.”

I flicked my hair out of my face and kept with the crowd, then stopped with the rest of the school group just outside of the airport.

“Where’s Penis Parker?”

“God, Eugene, that joke is so five years ago.”

“So are you, Y/L/N.”

I honestly wasn’t planning on my fist connecting with his jaw, but one second I had clean knuckles, and the next they were close to splitting.

Flash almost fell to the floor from the impact. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Y/N! What’s going on?” Harrington was upon us. He wasn’t very good at consequences, but he was trying to be better. No one else could give him a more opportune moment to improve than myself.

“There was a wasp on his face, sir. I had to hit it off.”

“By punching me?” Flash’s hand was clutching his jaw.

“Have you ever met a wasp? They’re evil sons-of-bitches.”

“I won’t tolerate physical violence, Y/N. Consider this your warning.” The crowd slightly dispersed, but I still stood beside my victim, much to his dismay.

“I think you broke my jaw.”

“If I broke your jaw, you wouldn’t be speaking.” I picked up my backpack and handed Flash his. “I deserve to be here as much as you do, Eugene. Just because you didn’t live the last five years doesn’t make mine any less valid.” I knew I promised Peter I would make Harrington wait, but all I wanted to do was get out of that airport.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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jeonqqin · 5 years ago

Text

to the moon. [m]

h. jisung x reader | pregnancy au

— ❝Becoming a young mother was never your intention. But you had Jisung there with you, so it all really seemed like it would be okay.❞

WORD COUNT: 5k

CONTAINS: light smut, angst, movie spoilers(???), description of pregnancy/surgery, complications

WARNING: very mild smut, pregnancy sex, do not read if easily triggered by death and/or surgery

A/N: hope you enjoy my first blurb :)

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

Never once did you think you’d get pregnant so soon in life. With a belly bump that pushed against even the loosest of your sweaters, and more emotions than you knew what to do with. But after the initial shock of it all, you actually grew excited. A baby was growing inside of you, and for whatever reason, that made you feel so damn happy. Your boyfriend had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too grew to love the little tot that made your belly round.

At three months pregnant, Jisung insisted on reading books out loud, convinced that the baby could hear him and knew the sound of daddy’s voice. So, every night before the two of you went to sleep, he opened up whatever book was on hand—it really didn’t matter what it was—and read until you fell asleep against him. It was more difficult when he was on tour, considering you were more emotional than usual and prone to outbursts that you never really meant. While traveling, he was often in a different time-zone, so he couldn’t really call at regular times, and when he did have any spare time, he’d use it to eat and sleep. You were frustrated, to say the least. But you pulled through. Thankfully one of the other members of Stray Kids—Chan, you suspected—came up with the voice memo idea. Jisung ended up sending you recordings of him just talking about nothing at all, and you’d play every new one when you woke up or when you had time.

“Hello little one, it’s your daddy. I really can’t wait to see you, so please hurry out, okay?”

You laughed, rubbing your palm over your stomach. “Don’t listen to him. Please take your time…”

“Mommy and I are ready to take such good care of you—oh, and all of your crazy uncles, of course—”

“You’re the only crazy one of us, Sungie!”

“Ah, don’t listen to him, baby. Like I said, they’re crazy.”

You smiled fondly down at your phone as you continued to listen to the boys all bicker back and forth. They really were still kids.

“Ah, shi—daddy’s got to go! Take care of mommy for me and don’t cause her too much trouble while I’m gone! Bye, my loves, I’ll see you both soon.”

And you never told Jisung, but you’d play their music out loud as you did little domestic things around the apartment. Usually, you played their upbeat music when you were doing chores; songs like Gone Days, Awkward Silence and Get Cool. But on nights you missed Jisung, you played their pretty songs. Neverending Story and Mixtape: On Track, were the baby’s favorites, you found. You swore you felt the baby kick every time, and soon came to the conclusion that Jisung was right and the baby did know daddy’s voice.

The little guy seemed to like Seungmin’s parts too—and that was also a detail you wouldn’t mention to Jisung.

At four months pregnant, you began to really crave some strange things; from peanut butter in every form, to literally slicing and eating lemons like they were oranges. Jisung put up with all of it and proved to be the perfect father and boyfriend by following every craving with you and giving up everything you couldn’t eat. You’d heard stories about husbands promising to give up alcohol and deli meats for their wives but quickly copping out after the first week—not Jisung. He stuck with you and kept going no matter how hard it was to eat a lemon with breakfast every morning. He was a determined father, and it brought you to tears one night when Stray Kids were going out to celebrate their comeback with drinks, but Jisung declined to tend to you for the night.

“Baby, wha—why are you crying, sweetheart?”

You held your face in your hands as you shook your head, doing the best you could to direct the conversation away from you. He was doing so much for you and just giving you everything you could want, but you couldn’t even listen to him for three minutes without your body giving you some sort of hell.

“I’m okay, Sungie. Just the hormones.” You sniffed, wiping at all the tears that fell down your cheeks in an attempt to stop them, but to no avail.

Jisung hummed, scooting a little closer to you on the couch. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, which had been turning into a more common occurrence as you got more round, but he loved it. There would be no complaints on his end. It just made you look so much more soft and fluffy to him—that and the fact that you were carrying his child inside of your tummy. He was really loving the whole father thing more and more as time passed.

“Okay, baby. Come here then.” He cooed softly, pulling you into him and wrapping a blanket around the both of you. “Take a nap, for now, let it pass.”

He was really so good.

“I love you.”

He smiled, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Five months pregnant, you didn’t expect to be so horny. You were less queasy, and according to your doctor, “there was an increased amount of blood flow to your genitals.” She had said it was normal to have sex during your second trimester of pregnancy, but no matter how much you tried to convince Jisung to just fuck you he was too convinced that he’d hurt the baby somehow. And your pregnant mind decided to play a fun little game on you called, Let’s Make Y/n Insecure. So as Jisung was at the studio, you watched some sad movies and cried. Of course, it was a common activity you took part in when Jisung was gone, but it was a little different due to your newfound self deprecating thoughts. You were getting bigger and it did not make you feel sexy in any shape or form, and Jisung—someone that was so much of a horndog before your pregnancy that he would jump at the opportunity to get his dick wet at any given point in time—didn’t even want to have sex with you when you asked? It led you to believe that he didn’t think you were pretty anymore. And you ended up asking yourself, what if he was going to other girls at the company to meet his needs? Deep down, you knew he would never do such a thing to you, but you were still young and supposed to be in your prime, and your boyfriend didn’t want you. It freaked you out.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Jisung called from the front door, but you didn’t answer, instead, you just shoveled some more ice cream into your mouth as you watched the scene on t.v play out. Jisung frowned, placing the takeout he brought with him on the table. “Baby? You awake?”

His eyes met your form when he walked into your shared bedroom, confusion lacing his gaze. But you didn’t acknowledge him, even when he moved to sit next to you, you just continued to glare at the t.v.

“Baby, look at me,” he said, delicately cupping your cheek, but you jerked your head away. “What did I do wrong, Y/n?”

You sighed, turning to him frustratedly. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me, Jisung? Is it because of my belly? Am I not sexy anymore? Do you want to fuck other girls instead?” You threw questions at him as he stared at you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. When he remained silent, you turned back to the movie on the screen with glassy eyes, god damn your emotions.

He panicked. “No! No, no, of course not, sweetheart!” He quickly moved to tug you into his arms, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re the only one I want, and the only one I’ll ever want. Sex right now is just…”

“Gross? Weird?” You scoffed.

“Not something I thought we could do.” He confessed with a red face. “Believe it or not I’ve never gotten a girl pregnant before, and I don’t really know what precautions we need to take. The last thing I want to do is hurt either of you.”

You melted into his touch, your feeling of insecurity disappearing. “Sungie, you won’t hurt me or the baby. The doctor had specifically told me that sex was fine, she said it was normal at this point of pregnancy.”

You had to hold back a laugh as his eyes lit up immediately. “Really? It won’t hurt our baby?”

“No, Sungie.” You smiled with a giggle, kissing his lips. “Our baby will be fine.”

Suddenly, Jisung was hoisting you onto his lap with a surprising amount of strength. You could feel just how eager he was through his pants, and it brought you back to the days when you and Jisung were in such a position nearly every day. It was exciting. He groaned low in his throat as you rolled your hips against his hardening member.

“Shit, how could you think that I didn’t want to fuck you, baby? All cute with my baby in your belly.” He sighed, running his hand up your small bump and stopping on your breasts. You moaned; high and whiny due to the sensitivity of your nipples. “And your gorgeous tits.”

“Ji, I missed your hands, baby.” You whined, rubbing your palms over his hard chest.

Jisung hummed, dipping his hands under your sweater to touch your warm skin. “Yeah? You like when I touch you like this, sweetheart?”

“So much.”

“Good,” he said, rutting up against you. “Now move those cute hips for me, baby.”

In your sixth month pregnant, Jisung finally brought you over to the dorm to see the boys—or more importantly, for the boys to see you. You really were glowing; Jisung had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. With your plump belly in all its glory, the boys were ecstatic to finally see you. Jisung had held it off originally because he was nervous of their opinion and didn’t want to put you in that position—of course, he knew they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your feelings, but there was always that one doubt that left him hesitant. Of course, he realized how ridiculous he had been the moment you walked through the dorm doors.

Changbin and Chan had immediately tugged you to the couch as carefully as possible—even going as far as offering to carry you. But you denied with a laugh, walking to the couch just fine on your own.

“But thank you, boys.” You had squeezed their hands with a smile and nearly sent them into cardiac arrest.

“Is she only cuter because she’s pregnant?” Minho had whispered. “Is that a thing?”

Jeongin made a noise of discomfort. “I think that’s weird of you to say, Hyung.”

Throughout the evening all of the boys had stepped up to care for you; Changbin had massaged your shoulders as Hyunjin and Felix dutifully moved around the dorm to collect every pillow and blanket in sight to make a little nest around you, and Seungmin and Jeongin conversed with you while Minho and Chan were busy in the kitchen making dinner. It was a bit of a mess, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Hyunjin cooed over your baby bump as you ran your hand over it. “So, Y/n, have you decided—”

There was a sudden kick under your palm, causing you to jump with a small surprised “oh” leaving your lips.

The boys surrounding you looked at your stomach with awe, Jisung laughing at their bewildered faces. “It’s like you guys have never seen a pregnant woman before.”

You smiled. “Do you want to feel?”

And there was suddenly seven pairs of hands groping your stomach. It certainly was entertaining to watch them argue over who felt the kick and who was “the baby’s favorite”. They might have all been a little off their rocker, but at least you had your village to help raise your baby.

At seven months you finally decided to come up with names. Jisung expressed several times that it was his favorite part, and he had been looking forward to it for weeks. Of course, the two of you had briefly talked about the gender and names but came to the conclusion that you wanted it to be a surprise and the name thing you’d just deal with later. Well, when you finally went to Jisung to talk about names, you concluded that Jisung’s father would go through the process of finalizing the name—to respect the tradition in their family—and the two of you would pick the name yourselves. Thankfully, Jisung’s parents had been very accepting of everything so far, his mother just excited to see her grandchild and his father proud of his son for stepping up to take care of you properly.

“What about Soo—something? Or Seo? Han Soo-hyuk? Han Soo-hyun? Or just Han Soo-hun?” Jisung rambled, looking at the ceiling as you cuddled into his side. It was late at night, and neither of you could sleep, so it seemed to be a good time to talk about mindless things. “What do you think, baby?”

You hummed. “I like Soo-hyun for a boy, it’s pretty.”

Jisung smiled as he ran his palm against your belly. “And for a girl? Any ideas?”

“Eun-jin is cute. I like Ye-sung too.”

“What about Ji-hyun?”

“Han Ji-hyun.” You smiled, stroking his cheek. “Yeah, I really like that one.”

On your eighth month of pregnancy, your food cravings shifted over to movie cravings. For some strange reason, you had the urge to watch every Disney and Pixar movie you could get your hands on. It was a flashback to childhood for sure, and you’d just spend days watching Disney princesses until Jisung got home and encouraged you to go for a walk with him for some exercise. Jisung himself was convinced it was all in your head and the baby fever was just hitting you extra hard, but he never once complained. He just sat back in bed with you and watched every movie that you put on.

“How about Beauty and the Beast?” You asked, scrolling through the countless amount of movies on the screen.

“Y/n, we literally watched that last week.” Whined Changbin from the foot of the bed, his legs kicking up behind him like a child. “I don’t want to sit through another session of you pointing at the screen and saying, omg that little cup looks just like Jeonginnie!—OW.”

He reeled back away from Hyunjin’s swinging arm. “You’re just upset that she called you Gaston’s tiny sidekick, knowing full well that you are.”

“At least I wasn’t compared to a gay-ass candlestick.”

You giggled as the boys bickered, all of them throwing comments about how their assigned characters were better than the others, even Jisung chimed in how “unfair” it was that Chan got to be the beast and he was stuck being compared to Gaston.

“Well, it’s pretty true, Sungie.” You cooed, stroking his cheek. “Chan’s way more of a prince type.”

Chan winked cheekily at his friend from his place on the floor.

“It doesn’t matter who’s who—” Seungmin started.

“—you can’t say shit, clock-boy—”

“—just pick another movie,” Seungmin said, raising his middle finger towards Changbin.

So you settled on the movie Inside Out, a cute Pixar film with lots of colorful characters that caught your eye. None of you had seen it, so it was an easy decision. But it still hadn’t stopped you from dubbing each boy as a respectable character every five minutes.

“Oh my god,” you gaped as the character that called himself Bing Bong. “Jisung, that is you.”

The room erupted into laughter at your words, Minho even going as far as falling off the end of the bed. Jisung looked at you with an open mouth, in utter shock.

“Him?! The fat pink elephant? You think I look like a fat pink elephant?”

“She’s right! You do look like that guy!” Seungmin snorted through his laugh, falling into Jeongin for support.

“He’s just goofy, baby. It reminds me of you.”

For the majority of the movie after that, Jisung pouted, his head resting against your chest. Your boyfriend really acted like a child at points, and his dynamic personality only made you love him more. So, every time he huffed, you just giggled and ran your fingers through his hair exactly how he liked. But strangely enough, he started to get too committed to the movie to pout, his eyes never leaving the screen as the scenes became more intense.

Especially when the so-called “fat pink elephant” sacrificed himself to save the main character from being forgotten forever. Unfortunately, you were already an emotional wreck, so it didn’t take much for you to break down, but as the sound of sniffles filled the room, you figured the rest of the boys were in the same boat. And the damn Bing Bong guy was like Jisung—the most loyal person you knew, positive even the hardest of times, and too selfless for his own good. The love of your life was more than just self-sacrificing; he’d give everything up for his family.

“Go save Riley!”

The room fell silent for only a second, everyone holding their breath as the inevitable played out. Jisung held you closer with glassy eyes, his cheek unknowingly pressing harder against your breasts. From the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin cling to Felix like Velcro, the two holding each other close as they watched the screen. And there was Seungmin and Changbin at the end of the bed, their legs tangled together and their intertwined hands discreetly tucked between them. Chan’s fingers were threaded in Jeongin’s hair as the younger leaned against their leader’s legs, and Minho smiled at the screen softly, his eyes holding something both sad and happy as he watched the movie. You smiled too, tears slowly covering your cheeks.

“Take her to the moon for me, okay?”

You pressed a small kiss to your boyfriend’s forehead as you felt him let out a brief sob against your chest.

For the first time of your pregnancy, you felt comfortable looking around at your crazy little family and thinking, “yeah, your baby was going to be just fine”.

To say that everyone was ready for you to go into labor early would’ve been a complete lie. Everyone was ready for you to go to the hospital on time, so Jisung obviously reacted with a little panic when you announced that your water broke and a rough pain settled in your side. He was quick to your side, his phone already pressed to his ear as he directed you to sit down—whatever fluid that got on the couch be damned. He called his parents, shouting that you were in labor and needed to go to the hospital, so they quickly responded and told him they’d be there in five minutes. So then he called Chan to spit out the news—and the speed that his words left his mouth could’ve competed with the pace of his raps—before hoping his friend had been able to decipher his words and hanging up. Of course, everything afterward went to plan—you were screaming in pain while Jisung held your hand in his while his parents drove you both to the hospital. But you did just as the doctors told you; you pushed and pushed, Jisung still gripped onto your hand, albeit you both looked pale as hell, but you were able to push one last time and see your baby—your baby girl.

“Congratulations mom and dad, it’s a beautiful little girl.”

She was carefully placed in your arms, and god you knew then and there that you would endure another nine months of torture for your daughter in a heartbeat. She was beautiful.

Jisung lifted his palm to caress the small head of your daughter, he had tears shining in his eyes as he looked at his two worlds in front of him. “Baby, look at her. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You smiled with heavy eyes. “Our little girl.” Despite all the energy having been zapped out of you and the killer cramps, you couldn’t look away. “She has your eyes, Sungie…”

Jisung felt a tear drop down his cheek as he laughed. “She sure does. And your lips, and Chan’s eyebrows, and Minho’s nose, and Jeongin’s little dimples, and Felix’s cheeks, thank god she doesn’t look like Changbin—oh wait.”

You laughed, resting your head against his. “Our little family.”

“Han Ji-hyun.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, feeling consciousness slowly slip away from you. “I really like that name, Sungie—”

Your eyes then slipped shut, and Jisung frowned, immediately holding your cheek in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, what—?” But he was interrupted by a low groan that left your lips, your body twisting in a way that suddenly brought panic to the staff in the room. Slowly the heart-rate monitor’s beeping became incessant and rang louder in his ears as the nurses in the room called for a doctor, taking the newborn from your arms. Suddenly, the room was filled with a chaos that Jisung couldn’t keep up with.

“The patient just had a seizure, get her on a breathing tube immediately.”

“Get it down her throat—”

“Is it eclampsia or HELLP syndrome?”

“There’s no time to take the tests, doctor. Her liver has inflamed at a rapid pace.”

“Get magnesium sulfate in her IV now!”

“Baby?” Jisung whispered, tugging your hand into his as nurses attempted to usher him out of the room. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me, please—”

“Sir, we need you to—”

“Tell me what’s wrong with her!”

But they pushed on. “You need to leave the room, sir.”

You cried out as another convulsion wracked through your weak body, and Jisung felt his heart shatter at the sight. His hand reached out to grip your hand, feeling your shaky fingers intertwine with his as you released a whimper. You were looking paler and paler by the second, doctors and nurses rushing around doing things that Jisung could never even guess, but he didn’t care. You were the only thing he had his sights on.

“S-Sungie,” you choked like you were freezing, your lips quivering. “Our baby—where’s my baby? What happened to my baby?” You yelled, pushing violently against the hands of the doctors.

Jisung felt wetness on his cheeks. “Baby, she’s fine. Our baby’s fine, sweetheart.” He lifted your clammy hand to his lips. He was helpless as the nurses attempted to guide him away from you, all he could do was watch as you struggled and fought hysterically. “Come on, Y/n. Please come back to me, sweetheart…”

You shrieked in pain once again as you thrashed in a doctor's hold, nonsense about them taking your baby was spilling from your lips.

“Induce her!”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a nurse pushed past him, quickly injecting something into your IV. It physically hurt him to watch as you slowly fell limp against the hospital bed, your eyes lazily gazing at him.

“Y/n?” His voice was shaking, he knew. “Please baby—”

“Sungie.” You sighed, your fingers twitching in his grip and your head lolling to the side. “You saw her right?”

Jisung nodded, raising your hand to his face, moving your palm to cup his cheek. “She’s beautiful, sweetheart. Our baby is so beautiful.” He smiled.

Your eyelids dropped as you hummed. “Please, Sungie—” You had to peel your eyes back open, looking at the man you fell in love with, with a smile. He had been so good to you, even before you found out that you were carrying his baby. Maybe you were just kids, but you knew you loved him, and you knew he loved you. And there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Your sweet little girl could become anything she wanted, and you wanted to watch that. Surely with a family like yours, she would thrive in a loving environment, and there would never be a moment where she would be unloved. With your boys there for her—with Jisung there for her, you knew she’d be just fine. You wanted to watch him grow with Stray Kids, while your child grew beside them. Maybe you still could. “Look at me.”

Jisung’s lip wobbled as he looked up from your interlocked fingers. Your hands were too cold.

So you inhaled deeply as unconsciousness slowly took over and waves of nausea pounded against your head. But you pushed through to look at Jisung—the man you knew would give your baby girl a life to be excited to live. “Take her to the moon for me, Sungie.”

Never once did Jisung think he’d be a dad so soon in life. With a pregnant girlfriend that played his songs for their baby to hear and stole his clothes on the daily. But after the initial shock of it all, he grew excited. He was going to start a family with a woman he’d loved, and no matter how much he thought about the consequences, he was the happiest man alive. Granted, he had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too, grew to love both the woman bearing his child and the baby inside.

At three years old, Han Ji-hyun looked just like her mother. Precious in every way, shape, and form. Stray Kids looked after her like they were her own parents; uncles in the strangest forms. Chan wasn’t afraid to take her to his studio when it was his turn to watch her, because somehow she knew not to make a sound when he was working. Minho stepped in as Ji-hyun’s mother figure—making her meals, cleaning her up, and simply teaching her about the little things in life. Changbin was the most hesitant to find a role in the little girl’s life, but eventually, he became her favorite uncle in terms of how he showed his love. Hyunjin took her everywhere he could go, solely because he knew how much you liked to see places and found the similar trait in Ji-hyun. Felix was her best friend in the world and she was his, and he didn’t care about what anyone thought of their relationship. Seungmin taught her life lessons every child needed to learn, like how to use the bathroom on her own, how to write her name, how to ride a bike, and countless other things. Jeongin—surprisingly enough—acted as her protector; nothing was going to harm Ji-hyun while Jeongin was alive and he swore to that the day she was born. But they’d all give anything for their precious girl.

Just how you did.

Jisung was her father—and an amazing one at that. Ji-hyun was a daddy’s girl from the very beginning, never once wanting to leave his side. He wanted to do exactly what you wished for, because he wasn’t one to hold grudges or muddle over things for too long, and as your last wish of him, there was no way he’d deny the love of his life anything. Ji-hyun was his whole world. And it didn’t hurt to see you every time he looked at her. Jisung was happy to have a part of you with him, and he knew that you would’ve never wanted it any other way. You were so strong, it baffled him. Ji-hyun was just the same.

“Daddy, can you put on mommy’s movie?”

Jisung was caught off-guard when he looked up from his laptop to see his three year old still up and not in bed. It was way past her bedtime and he knew she’d be tired in the morning, but the way she looked at him made him weak. He sighed. “Get in bed.”

Ji-hyun giggled as she climbed onto Jisung’s large bed, nearly being swallowed by all the blankets. Jisung smiled at her excitement, peeling off his jacket and shoes before taking a seat next to her. Immediately, she crawled into his arms, her head resting on his chest.

By the age of three, Ji-hyun knew all the words to Inside Out by heart. It was a movie she associated with her mother and went to it for comfort at times. So did Jisung, if he was being honest.

She pointed at the screen. “There’s mommy.”

Jisung smiled as his daughter pointed towards the blue-haired character—Joy. And he couldn’t help but agree. “There’s mommy.”

Absentmindedly, Jisung toyed with the engagement ring that sat, snug around his ring finger. It was a beautiful ring, one that confused most people that saw it. The ring was in fact, yours. You just never got the chance to see it, since he had kept in his pocket for nine months too long—never able to ask.

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