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bitchin-beskar · 2 years ago

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The Roommate Agreement - Chapter 2

Rating: Mature

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Again, no smut in this chapter, we've still gotta set up the premise before we get to the fun sexy times, but I'm anticipating we're likely gonna start seeing smut in Chapter 4! There are mentions of domestic abuse that happened in chapter 1 between reader and her ex (not Paz!) but no actual abuse takes place in this chapter. JUST A REMINDER, THE MAIN THEME OF THIS STORY IS FREE USE! IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS, YOU'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS FIC. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: hehe, as promised here is chapter 2!!! we've got some emotional shit going on, along with a bit of worldbuilding. I will definitely be expanding on the worldbuilding as the story progresses, but just be aware, I will not be taking much from actual canonical lore. You're likely going to recognize some stuff, but I'm playing fast and loose with actual canonical events. So please, don't come yelling at me if it's "not canon." it's an au for a reason guys. anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Waking up the next morning was not an enjoyable experience. Your eyes stung like crazy, and there was a bone-deep aching pain centered around your left eye and cheekbone, and your throat and mouth were unpleasantly dry. As the haze of sleep began to clear from your mind and you slowly became more aware, you remembered why you felt like death warmed over.

Groaning, you scrubbed your hands over your face, cautious of what was surely a black eye at this point, trying to stave off more tears. You didn’t want to cry over Parjai, he didn’t deserve your tears, but your heart wasn’t quite with the program yet. You’d been with him for close to four years, and those feelings didn’t just magically disappear overnight.

Although, you could admit that your love for him had been dwindling in the recent months. Parjai’s jealousy was something you’d always been aware of, but it had only grown worse as the two of you got older. He’d never liked Paz, but you’d always rationalized it away, because you knew there was nothing but friendship between the two of you, and you’d thought that Parjai trusted you on that, but clearly not. There had been fights happening more and more, often instigated by Parjai. Coming home late, unexpected school projects, wanting to grab coffee with friends, everything and anything could trigger his temper, and you’d increasingly felt like you were walking on thin ice around him.

Still, you’d never thought he’d actually hit you.

A knock on the bedroom door brought you out of your musings. You didn’t have long to wait before the handle was turning and the door was creaking open, and Paz was poking his head through the crack. He’d clearly not been up for very long, based on the state of his hair, and it brought a silly little smile to your face. He always looked younger with his hair in disarray.

His eyes were soft when he saw you sitting up in bed, but they quickly hardened when he really looked at your face. He pushed the door open further and strode into the room, coming to stand by the side of the bed. Paz nudged your chin up with a crooked finger, his other hand coming up to gently brush over your cheekbone. You let him study your face for a moment before breaking the silence.

“How bad is it?”

Paz winced, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before opening them again to focus on you. “Could’ve been worse if we hadn’t gotten that ice on you last night. Wanna put a bacta patch on today, though.”

“Ugh, no I don’t need bacta, Paz. You know I hate the smell.”

He fixed you with a stern look, concern hidden behind the fond annoyance in those dark eyes of his. “This isn’t up for debate. You wanna go to class with a black eye?”

You sighed. He was right, you really didn’t want to go to class with a black eye, but truthfully, you thought you probably should. The look Paz gave you when you voiced that thought made it clear that you needed to elaborate.

“I don’t want Parjai to be able to say it wasn’t a big deal, or that he didn’t hit me that hard.��

Paz fell quiet at that, growing contemplative as he took a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. His gaze was focused downward, and he appeared to be deep in thought. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands that was resting beside him on the duvet. He didn’t look up until you’d wrapped both of your hands around his much larger one, fingers gently pressing into the meat of his palm.

The look on his face made you pause, the words dying in your throat. You’d never really seen Paz look so lost, not even when he told you his father-and Paz too, by technicalities of him being a minor at the time-had officially been stripped of the Clan Vizsla Name.

“You know what he’s gonna tell people, right?”

It took you a moment to register what he was saying, but when you did, a fury filled you unlike anything you’d felt before. Parjai was excactly the kind of man to go around spreading lies that Paz had been the one to hit you, and considering his standing in Clan Priest, he had a higher chance of being believed over Paz.

However, your clan wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Clan Prudii, while not being nearly as powerful as Clan Vizsla or nearly as influential as Clan Priest, was still a clan in good standing, well-respected and well-liked. Clan Vizsla and Clan Priest were both memebers of the Founding Clans, the ones who’d settled Mandalore in the first place. Clan Prudii was a newer clan, having formed a few centuries after the Founding of Mandalore. But Clan Prudii had always held good-standing, with a solid history of being teachers and doctors. It had been a long time since anyone in your family had married into a clan with higher-standing, and no one had married into a Founding Clan before. So naturally, it had been no secret that your parents were extremely pleased with the match between you and Parjai, because it would’ve elevated Clan Prudii to Noble Clan status, the level just below Founding Clan status. It was something your parents had dreamed of for years.

This dream had meant that you’d had to listen to many of your mother’s rants about how you were destined to drag the clan name down with you, associating with Paz the way that you had been. Those rants had only stopped once you’d began to date Parjai.

While Paz still carried the Vizsla name, his status was rather… shaky, when it came to clan politics. His father, Pre, and his grandfather, Tor, had been disowned by his great-great grandfather for their crimes as members of Death Watch, and had been stripped of the clan Name. Because Paz had been a minor at the time of the exile, he’d been allowed to keep the Clan Name on a technicality. However, because he’d been in the sole care of his father, Pre, due to his mother Tal dying years earlier, he’d been subject to the same rules as any other Nameless, the Naasade. Unless the head of Clan Vizsla took Paz back into the Clan, which hadn’t happened yet, he was shunned the same as if he’d been exiled too.

It was something Paz was exceedingly self-conscious about. At one point, you’d offered to help him draft a letter to the Clan Head to try and see if he could rejoin the Clan, only to discover that after his great-great grandfather had died, no one knew who the Clan Head actually was. Or if they did, they weren’t willing to tell Paz.

Because of the whole mess with his Clan, Paz often had to fight tooth and nail to be recognized as a Named Mandalorian. There were many who were all too happy to try and deny him access to basic things like healthcare or education based on his father’s crimes and status, and he’d fought viciously for every right he had. It had gotten better when he joined the Mudhorns, and people were talking about Paz Vizsla, the star goalie, instead of Paz Vizsla, Son of the Nameless. But there were those who still didn’t think he deserved to be on the team, or even attending the university.

But if Parjai went around saying that Paz had been the one to hit you? Well, that could cause a lot of trouble for Paz, potentially even getting him expelled. There are those who would have a far easier time believing the treasured son of Clan Priest over the maybe-disgraced son of Clan Vizsla.

So, you needed to get out there and set the record straight, before Parjai had the chance to start weaving his web of lies. The Prudii Clan were known for their honesty and frankness, and if you could get enough people believing your side of things before Parjai, then maybe the fallout for Paz wouldn’t be too bad.

Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to knock Parjai down a peg or two. He’d always been a bit arrogant, but looking back on his actions as of late, now that your affection for him was fast fading, he’d defintely stepped over the line of arrogance and straight into insufferability. He’d have a hard time finding a new girl if they knew there was a possibility he could hit them like he’d hit you.

“I’m not gonna let him tell lies about my best friend, Paz. You don’t deserve that.” You made sure he was looking at you before you continued. “Besides, he doesn’t have class today, so if I’m wanting to set the record straight, today is the best day to do it.”

Paz could clearly see that you weren’t gonna let this go. He sighed deeply, running his free hand through the fluffy mass of his hair.

“Okay, but I’m talkin’ to the team. You don’t go anywhere on campus without one of us escorting you, got it? I’m not taking any chances in case that di’kut talked to his little friends. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt even more.”

You could tell by the look on his face that Paz was deathly serious. It looked like you were gonna be spending the forseeable future with bodyguards following your every move. Normally, you’d protest such a treatment, insist that you could take care of yourself, but just the thought of running into Parjai sent shivers down your spine, so you figured you could allow Paz this indulgence for awhile.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood and moved to stand in between Paz’s legs, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you looked at him. He sat there, a confused quirk in his brow, but a small smile playing on his lips at the determined look on your face.

You took another step forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing your chest against his as you hugged him tightly. You tucked your face against his neck and squeezed, hands twisting in the soft fabric of his shirt. His own arms wrapped around your waist with zero hesitation, thick bands of corded muscle keeping you centered and pressed as close as physically possible. His own face was buried in your neck, you could feel his lashes fluttering against you. And when he spoke, his lips brushed over your skin, his warm breath sending a rush of heat through you.

“What’s this for, then?”

Somehow, you squeezed him even tighter, as if you could convey every unspoken word from the near two decades of frienship into this one hug. He held you tighter too, his actions a direct contrast to his blasé tone of voice.

“‘s a thank you, Paz,” you muttered, your own lips pressed to his sleep-warm skin. “Jus’ shuddup an’ let me hug you.”

A shudder ran through his body, and you could feel his hands trembling from where they were pressed against you.

“Yes ma’am.”

****

Practically as soon as you set foot on campus, you were immediately accosted by Mir’a. You’d barely climed out of Paz’s truck before she was beelining across the parking lot. She’d begun speaking before she even really looked at you, apologies spilling from her lips about leaving you alone at the party, but when she finally focused on your face, a horrified gasp escaped, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh my stars, what happened?” She was immediately reaching for your cheeks, gently turning your head this way and that. Her eyes were wide and worried as she scanned the rest of your body for any other injuries. “Did this happen at the party? Oh Maker, I shouldn’t have left, I’m so sorry!”

“Mir’ika, I’m fine,” you reassured her, gripping her wrists and pulling her hands down from your face. You could hear Paz getting out of the truck and coming over to stand behind you. “Well, I’m fine now.”

“But what happened?”

You sighed, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. “Parjai hit me.”

“WHAT?!”

You winced slightly at the volume of her yell, seeing other students out of the corner of your eye turning to look at the two of you. Mir’a’s eyes were wide for a whole other reason now, and you could see fury dawning on her face. Mir’a was not someone you wanted to cross, and her temper was legendary on campus.

“Girl, if you don’t explain-”

“I picked her up from that party cause kriffing Priest wasn’t answering his phone, and when we got to their place, he smacked her across the face.”

Paz had come to stand directly behind you, one of his hands resting on the small of your back to help ground you. The anger in his voice was palpable, you could practically feel it radiating off of him.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she growled, clenching her fists. “Please tell me you broke up with his sorry shebs, he does not deserve you, especially after-”

“Mir’a, breathe.” She took a few deep, sarcastically exaggerated breaths, her furious gaze still trained on you. “Paz may have knocked him out before I could actually break it off, but yes, he and I are done. But I need something from you.”

“Anything.”

See, Mir’a Wren was a lot of things, some good and some bad, but a notorious gossip was probably the thing she was most known for. She was good at picking out what was important to spread around and what was just useless information, and when she put her mind to it, she could spread information faster than a viral holovid.

“I need you to make sure people know that Parjai’s the one who hit me. Paz was the one who’d taken me home, and-”

“Oh, I know exactly how he gets whenever Paz’s name gets brought up-no offense, big guy.”

“None taken.”

Mir’a paused, and really looked at you for a second. “Do you really think he’d try and lie about it?”

Maybe once you would’ve hesitated, but you didn’t need to, not about this, not now. “Yes. I absolutely think he will, and Paz doesn’t deserve that.”

His hand trailed from the small of your back to your hip, squeezing slightly at your defense of him. You turned your face up to look at Paz, missing the knowing grin that spread over Mir’a’s face as you did so. He was looking at you with an exceedingly soft look on his face, and it made your heart melt a little bit.

“Alright, you can count on me. I’m not gonna let that mudscuffer go around spreading lies. I’ll keep you updated.”

In any other instance, you’d be scared of the slightly manic look on Mir’a’s face. But now, it just fueled the dark pleasure unfurling in your gut. She quickly pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek before she was flouncing off, out to spread a reign of terror-for Parjai at least.

You made to go and follow her, but Paz’s grip on your hip stopped you.

“Hold up for a second, bunny.”

You turned, hoping your face didn’t show how Paz’s new little nickname made the butterflies in your belly swirl. He waited to make sure you weren’t going anywhere, before setting his duffel bag on the ground and digging through it. You were about to ask him what he was doing when he pulled a wad of fabric out triumphantly. He stood again and held it out to you.

“You better not be handing me your dirty laundry, Vizsla.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I swear it’s clean. Put it on.”

You unfolded the wad of fabric, mouth opening slightly as you realized it was Paz’s hockey sweatshirt. His name was emblazzoned on the back, his number prominent underneath it. The Mudhorn’s logo was centered on the front. It was clearly well-loved, some of the colors having faded a bit, but it was so soft. You didn’t hesitate. Dropping your own bag on the ground, you pulled the hoodie on over your head, sticking your arms through the too-long sleeves and letting the hem fall to hit you mid-thigh. You were swimming in the fabric, but you loved it. It felt a little bit like having Paz’s arms around you, and his cologne was practically woven into the fabric, so it even smelled like him.

As you settled the fabric on your body, you didn’t see the way Paz swallowed harshly at seeing you once more in his clothes. It’d been a long time since you’d worn any of his hockey gear, but the darkly primal part of him purred happily at seeing you dressed in his hockey hoodie, with his name and number on your back. He had to shove that dark possessiveness back down, and focus once more on your face when you finally looked back up at him.

“I can’t be with you for all of today, so Din’s gonna grab lunch with you, and hang with you until I’m finished and can take you home, alright?”

A part of you wanted to argue, say that you didn’t need a babysitter, but you remembered the way Paz had looked this morning, and you sighed, nodding. He pulled you in for a hug, and you went easily, arms wrapping around his waist as he held you close for a few precious moments.

“Alright bunny, let’s get you to class.”

****

For the most part, your day is completely normal. Except for practically everyone asking you about the black eye, that is.

Every time, you give variations of the same answer. Yes, Parjai as in your boyfriend Parjai. No, you’re not with him anymore. Yes, you’re doing alright, but you’d really like to stop talking about this, please and thank you.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re exhausted. If you hadn’t been so adamant about coming in and making sure people heard your account of things, you’d have texted Paz a while ago and told him you were going back to his place to nap. Din’s waiting for you outside of your Galactic Republic History course, and the two of you walk in relative quiet to the nearest dining hall. Din’s the first person not to ask about the black eye, but you also figure that Paz probably already told him.

The two of you grab lunch and a table in the back corner, away from all the hustle and bustle, hoping that people will leave the two of you alone. It seems to work, and the two of you eat in a companionable silence. Somehow, Din seems to know that you’re absolutely done with talking today, and he’s content to just be a silent pillar of support, something you didn’t realize you were desperately missing.

Lunch is almost finished when you see that you’ve got an email from the admissions office. You open it, confused as to why you’re getting an email this close to the start of the quarter. All it says is that your presence is requested as soon as possible in the admissions office, and that they will provide a note to any classes you may be missing to attend this meeting.

Looking up, Din’s got an eyebrow raised in question at you, so wordlessly you shove your phone at him. He reads the email quickly, before simply shrugging and standing up, gathering up the trash from your meals. You give him a soft thanks before standing too, and the two of you make your way out of the dining hall and towards the main building, where all the administrative offices are.

The admissions office is easy to find, and when Din and you enter, it’s clear that the two of you are the only students here. The office is quiet, soft music playing overhead as a Twi’lek types away at the computer at the only occupied desk. She doesn’t even look up, merely gesturing for you to come over with the crook of one finger. The nameplate on her desk reads: Bondara.

“What brings you in today?”

You look at Din, who only shrugs helplessly. “Uh, I recieved an email?”

“Mmhmm, mmhmm, last name?”

“Prudii.”

“Ah, yes! Just a small matter, nothing to worry about. You just need to pay tuition for this quarter.”

A frown forms on your face. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I have direct withdrawls set up, it should’ve already been taken out of my account?”

Still, she doesn’t look at you, typing away at whatever-the-kriff is on her screen. “It didn’t go through, so we’re gonna need you to try again, hun.”

Sighing, you mouth “sorry,” at Din, before pulling out your phone to look up your banking app. You’re not quite sure why you had to skip class for this today, but oh well. The screen loads slowly, but when it’s finally fully loaded, you feel your heart fucking drop into your stomach. You frantically tap the refresh button, hoping it’s just some kind of stupid glitch on your app. But when the screen loads the exact same data as before, you sink into the stupidly plush chairs set out in front of the admissions desk.

It’s empty. Your tuition account, that should have close to 7,000 credits, is completely, utterly, empty.

#paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #college!athlete!roommate!paz #car!paz au #car!paz #reader #fem reader #reader's nickname is bunny #paz is a hockey player #the roommate agreement #chapter 2 #no smut yet #but there will be a lot #so 18+#the mandalorian #modern au #paz vizsla fucks

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sirensleepingsoundly · 2 years ago

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Hellfire and Spitfire (pt.1)

CW: spoilers(duh), regular fluff, story addition, sexual content, angst, unrequited, enemies to lovers, only one bed (sort of), angry kissing, aggressive seggs, slapping, choking, hair pulling, blood, filth, hand/ring fetish, size kink.

Word Count: 1.9k

It was uncharacteristically warm for a spring morning in Hawkins. Looking at your clock on the nightstand you see it’s already 7:05, which means Steve and Robin are already on their way to pick you up. Nancy is likely already at school working on the paper, and Mike usually catches a ride with Dustin and his mom. After realizing how late it is you quickly get dressed and brush your teeth.

Steve honks from outside and you rush out, yelling a goodbye to nobody in particular. You jog out to find Robin sitting in the front seat preening. You and Steve were the only ones who knew of Robin’s weakness for the fairer sex. When you found out after the events at Starcourt last year, you were surprised to say the least. Before you knew, you’d thought she would quit being oblivious and go on a date with poor Harrington. Evidently being unaware was not the issue. Not that you were complaining. Robin being off the market meant Steve stayed on the market, despite his quest to date seemingly every eligible young woman in Hawkins.

“What’s up Harrington? Save any space for your favorite Wheeler?” You taunted him, jumping in and throwing your bag in the back seat. Knowing he was probably still pining after Nancy killed you, but you can’t help feeling something for him.

“C’mon Y/N, we’re running late and this one won’t stop with the personal grooming. I mean seriously she’s worse than me.” He feigned concern in Robin’s direction, making you smile.

“I have ears, thank you. And I am so not worse than you when it comes to personal grooming, Steve.” She pointed up at his hair. You laughed, but Steve just rolled his eyes and started the car.

The entire drive, Steve and Robin bickered about how her current anxiousness was clearly related to a certain someone who was to be at the pep rally this morning, which Robin of course denied, somehow leading into a very mature and intelligent conversation about boobies. Befriending Steve and Nancy had come about entirely by accident. The three of you worked at Scoops Ahoy together before the mall fire. You hadn’t been close at first, just coworkers. After the dust settled, you were thick as thieves. It was a relationship you hadn’t expected, but one you feel like you definitely needed.

One painfully boring pep rally and a few equally boring classes later, you finally made it to lunch. Robin went to the gym to practice for tonight, which made you wonder if Vickie was going to be there. Nancy was nowhere to be found, once again likely trying to drown herself in work, which left Mike. The problem with sitting with Mike is that if you sit with Mike, you sit with his whole game group, the Hellfire Club. Dustin is tolerable, albeit slightly irking, and you didn’t know the rest of the group well, but the Club president was a nightmare to deal with. And he often proved your point with displays much like the one he was currently taking part in.

Eddie Munson hoisted himself onto the table he was sitting at.

“But as long as you’re into band, or science, or parties,” he drew out the word parties in a ridiculous voice, “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Jason stood up from his table. “You want something, freak?”

Eddie mimicked horns with his fingers on either side of his head and stuck out his tongue. You were half a cafeteria away, but you saw something gleam in the light from his mouth. Probably something he was chewing on but it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume the degenerate had gotten a piercing. He reveled in being a weirdo so putting metal in his face was a sure fire way to get his label.

And Eddie lived up to his nickname, the freak. You were almost grateful for his existence because that kept the label off of you. But even with your past, Eddie Munson earned his title. He was a third year senior who lived with his uncle, sold drugs, and wrote campaigns for a role-playing game he played with the lower class-men.

You decided sitting with Eddie would be worse than sitting alone, so you just sat at an empty table and ate. The fries were soggy and you never were able to snag one of the elusive pudding cups, but you were glad for the lack of interruptions for the rest of lunch. You read a heavily worn copy of The Fellowship of the Ring while you ate, mentally checking out of reality into a fantasy world you actually liked thinking about.

The rest of the day went by fast. Your 6th period with O’Donnell made you want to take a nap at your desk. You almost made it through to the basketball game when Mike and Dustin cornered you in the science hallway.

“Hey, Y/N. Look we need a big favor.” Dustin started, plastering a goofy smile on his face.

You quickly responded, “No.”

Mike stopped you again by stepping in front of you. When you were kids, you were taller than him. Now that you were 18 and he was 15, he had sprung up and you had to look up a little to see his face. If anyone asked if it bothered you, you’d deny it.

“Please just hear us out?” You crossed your arms against your chest.

“Okay, so we need a sub because Eddie refuses to postpone Hellfire for one night for the championship game and we can’t get anyone else and I swear I would not have bothered you if I had any other options, will you do it? Please, please, please?” Mike squeaked out quickly.

You thought about it for a second. Really considered having to play D&D with your kid brother and his buddies.

“Hmm, yeah, still no.” Dustin and Mikes faces deflated. You decided against laughing in their faces, it felt just a little too cruel.

Before you could say anything else, Dustin’s face morphed into one of realization and he slapped Mike’s arm before running off toward the middle school. You actually used to be friends with Eddie in middle school. Before you were adopted, of course. He was annoying to be sure, but aside from the random lunchtime outburst, he wasn’t a terrible person. Not from how you remembered him anyways. You scoffed out loud at your own thoughts.

The gym was loud from around the corner. The squeaks of shoes and the thud of basketballs hitting the gym floor echoed through the hallway. You realized you were excited to sit next to Steve during the game. Nancy would be too busy covering the game, and Robin would be with the band, meaning you had him all to yourself. The thought rattled around in your head a little, only for your dreams to be shattered the moment you walked in and saw Steve with a girl. You couldn’t care to remember her name, but you were sure you’d seen her at school here.

You sat down toward the front of the bleachers, close enough to the court to smell the fact that one of the boys on the bench had forgotten to wear deodorant. The game was actually pretty entertaining on its own, which helped to block out the fact that Steve was here on a date. How could you have forgotten? Surely he mentioned it in the car this morning. Lucas saved the game after someone got injured and made the saving throw.

You decided to step out once everyone poured onto the court to congratulate the boys. Too many people made you nervous. On your way to Steve’s car you saw the boys leaving Hellfire. They had picked up Erica to sub for her brother, and apparently won. It dawned on you that if Steve was here on a date, you were out of a ride. The reminder of his romantic habits hurt your chest.

Before you could really think about how you were going to get home, Dustin called your name.

“Hey! Guess what, no thanks to you we beat Vecna.” Dustin smiled at you proudly.

“See? You didn’t even need me.” You tried to smooth over the fact that you had so rudely ditched them earlier. Maybe if you were nice he’d give you a ride. “On a totally unrelated note, how are you getting home?” You asked.

“Eddie usually gives everyone a ride.” You sucked in a breath and held it. “But he said he’s got something to do tonight so my mom is taking everyone home. Why? You need a lift?”

“Yeah, actually. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. We’re already taking Mike so it wouldn’t even be an extra stop.”

“God, thank you, Dustin.” You flashed him a genuine smile.

The ride home was filled with the boys talking about how they won the campaign. From what you understood, Vecna had come back to life after not really being killed by some dude named Kas and almost killed everyone, if it weren’t for Lady Applejack, Erica, making the last throw and defeating him for good. You loved hearing Dustin and Mike get into their adventures. They were so passionate about this game and you couldn’t help but be glad that they had the capacity to do so after everything they’ve been through. It made you think of what exactly made it so engaging for them when you realized it was all thanks to Munson and his storytelling abilities. As much as you disliked his displays, you were grateful for him. Eddie Munson is to these boys what fantasy and science fiction books are to you. An escape.

After returning home you went right up to bed. Your room was nice and tidy and you laid out your pajamas before you left for the bathroom. You showered and brushed your teeth then went to bed after a long and disappointing day. And for some reason when you slept, you had dreams of a particularly annoying long haired loser.

| Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7 |

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #edward munson #ao3 writer #steve harrington #slow burn #spoilers #fluff #angst #friends to strangers #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #hellfire club #hellfire and spitfire #ao3fic

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fandom-blackhole · 2 years ago

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Can I get some hurt/comfort with Joel. ❤️ you can choose whatever scenario

You can get whatever you want my lovely anon <3. I hope you like this! Sorry it took me so long, school keeps me busy and I got a little side tracked with my GoW obsession lol. Thanks for the request!

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS for both tlou p1 and p2, just spoilers in general, not edited, reader has no gender or physical description, no y/n

WC: 1.8k

Summary: Reader comforts Joel when he comes back to Jackson.

You didn’t know much. You knew that Ellie had left in the middle of the night, not saying a single word to anyone and only taking a horse and a few supplies with her. You also knew that she had left a small note behind for Joel to find, and once he had, every drop of rationality in his body flew out the window as he flew out of Jackson on the back of his own horse, his own supplies and weapons haphazardly packed. You’d watched him leave with an ache in your heart, a feeling of foreboding gripping your very being.

And you stood there watching the long closed gates that Joel had disappeared though. You’re not really sure how long you stood there, worry etched on your features, no one bothered you, just walked past you as if you were merely a statue, cold and frozen. Of course, at some point you heard the tell of whispers behind you. They weren’t good whispers however, you could make out just enough to piece their conversion together.

“How long have they been standin’ there,” Tommy’s voice carried over to where you stood. The second voice hesitated, but once they spoke up you recognized it as a local named Chris, you assumed he was probably on guard duty for the day.

“Since Joel left. Hasn’t moved a muscle. I’m not even completely sure they’ve blinked.”

A tired and concerned sigh followed before Maria’s voice answered, “Thanks Chris, you can return to your work now. I’ll go talk to them. Tommy, think you can take care of things without burning the town to the ground until I get them settled?”

From the corner of your eye you watched Tommy lean down and press a quick kiss to Maria’s temple and reply, “I can make no promises, but I sure will try not to.”

You heard more than saw Tommy leave as your gaze focused back onto the gate. You knew deep down that both Joel and Ellie were going to be gone for a few days at least, but you couldn’t pull your eyes from the wooden frames. Something also told you that both of them would come back unharmed, at least physically, emotionally you weren’t so sure. Something was going to be shifted when Joel and Ellie got back, for better or worse you weren’t sure.

So as Maria’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, you looked to her with a half hearted smile, one you knew she could see through. She did not acknowledge it however, instead she only gave a small knowing smile of her own and offered, “How about we go round up some lunch for ourselves?”

---

A week passed, and a few more days on top of it. Each day you found yourself taking the long way to and from your daily work around town just so you could pass the gate, and with each disappointing pass your heart squeezed in worry.

They're both fine, if anyone can survive running around out there it's Joel and Ellie, you find yourself repeating in your head over and over in attempts to overshadow the doubts and anxieties that have kept you up at night and have you zoning out while working during the day. Tommy and Maria have often had to come and break you from your thoughts, both showing their worry for you and sharing reassurances, but each time your heart aches and whispers saying, they'll come back but they aren't going to be the same.

And you can't break the anxious cycle. So here you find yourself now, curled in the corner of your faded and worn couch, eyes fixed across the room on the mantle of your unlit fireplace, on a small wooden duck carving which Joel had gifted you while almost bashfully brushing away your praise at his craftsmanship. You could still see the light dusting of red across his cheeks as you had told him how much the gift meant to you. Now though, as you looked at the carefully carved feathers, your eyes started to swim, your anxieties louder than any reassurance tonight.

You sat there for awhile, night long fallen and light disappearing from the room and limiting your view of the room, of the carving. You now you could stand, could cross the room and turn on the lamp that stood there and brighten the room once more, but instead you find yourself unwilling to move, unable to even let the tears clouding your eyes fall. Repeatedly you tell yourself to just move, to go to your room and at least lay down and try to rest.

The calls to rest finally started to settle deep in your bones. The exhaustion of very little sleep over the last few days cause you body to sag and limbs feel as heavy as they truly are. So with a sigh to muster what little energy you have left in your creaking joints, you slowly unfurl yourself from the corner of the couch and start towards your room. You find yourself pausing at your door frame though, as the soft sound of footsteps on your porch reach your ears in the deafening quiet. You stand there, ears searching for more noise and holding your breath and just as you have made up your mind that your sleep deprived state has managed to get out of had and made you start to hallucinate, that is when a hesitant but sturdy knock echoed from your door and you find your mind quiet for the first time in over a week as you slowly approach your door and pull it open.

There standing there with his head down and shoulders slumped you find Joel. When you open the door he lifts his head enough to meet your gaze, and in those swirling hazel eyes you find a broken and sad man, and you find that in the shock and worry of seeing such an emotion on Joel’s face energy fills your tired body once more.

"Tommy…Tommy told me that I should come tell you I made it back. He said that after I'd left in a rush you'd been in a constant state of worry over me n' Ellie," Joel manages to say, his voice obviously thick with emotion and tiredness.

Without a word, or much thought, you stepped aside and motioned him to come in. Joel hesitates for a moment at the threshold but crosses into your home.

"Sorry if I woke you," he says as you walk over to turn on the light you'd been trying to convince yourself to turn on for most of the night. You just shook your head at him and gave him a tired smile, "You didn't."

Quiet surrounded the two of you after that, both standing on opposite sides of the room and both unsure how to broach the thickness standing between the two of you. Eventually, after a few too many quiet moments, you find yourself unable to resist the draw towards Joel. So gently and slowly, you take a few cautious steps towards him until you finally find yourself standing in front of him.

"What happened Joel," you gently whisper.

It seemed whatever composure Joel had had at that moment was broken by your soft question. A single tear dropped from one of his eyes and he opened his mouth to try and speak, but all he could get out was a stuttered, "I-i…i…," before his head dropped and he shook his head, his chest rising and falling with silent sobs.

Heart in your throat, you reached out and cupped both sides of his face bringing Joel to look at you once more. You didn't say anything, knowing it better to just wait and let Joel speak for himself, so you wiped his tears away as he leaned into your comfort for a sense of support with closed eyes and you watched the strong man crumble in a way you never thought he could.

"I've lost her…I've lost Ellie, and I don't think she'll ever forgive me," Joel finally manages to choke out once his tears stopped only a few minutes after they began.

Heartbreaking at his sorrow, you continue to rub soothing circles into his cheeks until he opened his eyes and met your own.

"Joel," you whisper full of worry, "what happened out there?"

He stared into your eyes for a few moments, his thoughts flickering across his eyes as it was clear he was grappling and hesitating with something, but eventually he only shook his head with a sigh and pulled back out of your hands. When he finally spoke again, his voice was clearer, closer to what it usually sounds like, less emotion slipping through the cracks of the high walls he had built.

"Ellie…she learned the truth…of a lie i have been telling her for-for years," he pauses and looks down at his boots, "And because of that lie, she hates me now."

You want to reach out for him again, you want to tell him that that can't be the case, that Ellie does love him, but you can't because you don't know what all has happened between the two of them, it's been a secret the two had always guarded closely. So instead, with a heavy heart, you grab his hand, squeezing it in what you hope will feel reassuring.

"I…Joel, I won't ask for you to tell me more, but I want you know I am here to listen…I don't care what's happened in your past, I only wish to help. So…so I am here, for you, whenever you need…"

You squeeze his hand again seeing his eyes lock with yours easier now, his emotions and hurt still echoing in their depths.

And after a few seconds he nods, squeezing your hand back, gripping your hand in a way that seemed to ask you not to leave him, to stay. So you smile softly and reach forward with your free hand, cupping Joel’s cheek, and say, "Stay…tonight? Here with me?"

Joel doesn't say anything, his eyes flickering between your own before nodding.

After that neither of you speak. You lock your door and Joel removes his coat and boots, leaving both by your couch before turning off the lamp. Both of you move quietly to your room. You crawl onto your bed first and once you're fully situated Joel follows you. Once both of you are under the blankets and facing each other, he hesitates before curling into you, he buries his head into your neck and you move your one of your hands to bury in his hair at the nape of his neck, tracing circles and press your nose to the top of his head.

Just as you are drifting off to sleep, Joel's own soft breathing matching your own, you whisper, "Goodnight Joel."

And as you're consciousness is fading away, you feel Joel intertwine his fingers with your free hand and whisper back, "Thank you."

Requests are open! Please send them to my askbox! <3 Thanks for Reading!!!

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #tlou #hurt with comfort #tlou spoilers

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nerdzzone · 2 years ago

Text

Foreboding Frustrations

Summary: An injury has Madeline fretting over new worries and a stressful conversation plants seeds of doubt in her mind.

Part of the Back To You series

-----

June 2015

Elegant and graceful are two words that were often used to describe Madeline.

However, as she dragged herself out of the back of a cab, trying to get her crutches underneath her arms enough to support her weight without bumping her ankle, those words were probably the last two anyone would have used.

She was relieved to see the driver had already lifted her bag from the other side of the backseat, but as she’d had the forethought to only bring a backpack in an attempt to streamline the travel process, she declined his offer of help to the door and shifted her weight to her right foot as she swung it onto her back. Still getting used to the crutches, she tried her best to retain a hint of dignity as she clumsily hopped towards the apartment building that was Chris’ temporary Atlanta home, but she felt another wave of relief when she glanced up to see him already holding the door open.

The frown on his face as he took in her current pitiful state had her heart aching heavily in her chest, but she held it together and kept up her momentum until she was right in front of him.

“Maddie…” he murmured, the gentleness in his voice only making her situation feel more dire. “You didn’t tell me it was this bad…”

“The crutches are just temporary, it looks worse than it is.”

“You should have told me,” he insisted, holding the door open wide enough for her to squeeze through. “I’m off all weekend, I could have come to New York instead.”

“I needed to get out of the city,” she assured him. “But I appreciate the first class ticket, the extra space definitely came in handy so thanks for that.”

She flashed him a smile, but she knew it was forced and disingenuous and the way Chris’ eyebrows stayed creased together in concern told her that it hadn’t been at all convincing or reassuring. He brushed off her gratitude as he helped her slip off her backpack and slung it over his own shoulder before leading her to the elevator, but the silence that settled between them did nothing to ease Madeline’s misery. The only sound echoing around them was the clicking of her crutches on the floor and Chris’ uncharacteristically quiet welcome had the a twist of dread rising in her stomach.

However, when the elevator doors closed behind them, the words that came out of Chris’ mouth had Madeline thinking the silence might have been preferable.

“So, how bad is it?”

“It’s a grade two sprain,” she answered, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. “I’m on crutches for the next few days at least then once the swelling goes down I’ll have to start physiotherapy, but I’m out for the rest of the spring season.”

Her eyes burned as she swallowed back the sting of tears because as much as she’d tried to sound indifferent about the information she’d shared, it was a hard thing to accept. Pulling out just two weeks before their June performances broke her heart, but what was even more terrifying was the thought of how close she’d come to a career ending injury. Even with a grade two sprain she would have to be careful and meticulous in her recovery to make sure that she regained any lost stability in her ankle, but if it had been just a tiny bit worse then she could have been facing a very early retirement or at least a huge setback in her ability to consistently perform. The thought of not dancing at all for the next six weeks was devastating enough, the thought of never dancing at the same level again was unimaginable.

“I’m sorry, Maddie, that’s really disappointing,” Chris sympathized, but Madeline worried that if she opened her mouth to agree all that would come out was a sob. Instead, she simply shrugged her shoulders and kept her eyes locked on the floor and away from the frown on his face. The ding of the elevator gave her a temporary reprieve from discussing her injury, but once Chris had held the door open long enough for her to hop through it, he followed her out and continued. “Do you have a plan? Do you have a physio in New York already? If you’re thinking of hanging out here for a while then we can track down the best physio in Atlanta and make sure you’re in good hands.”

“The ballet has a physio so I made an appointment with him,” she explained. “But I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stuck around for a while. I know you’re busy, but getting a little unexpected extra time with you is the only silver lining I could think of.”

He led her through the door of his apartment as she spoke, but once it closed behind her and they were alone - away from any possible prying eyes - she felt the emotions she’d been fighting finally get on top of her. Her mind had been racing ever since her fall the night before. The disappointment, the fear, the list of things she needed to do to set herself up for success, it all had her feeling completely overwhelmed. The one thought that kept shining through the rest was that she needed Chris. He always made her feel better and knew just what to say, but what she craved most was the comfort of simply being in his arms.

Something in the way her voice broke must have caught his attention as the sympathy returned to his eyes and he let her bag drop to the floor.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’d love for you to stay, I always miss you when I’m filming.”

His assurance had the tears that were swimming in Madeline’s eyes finally welling over and slipping down her cheeks and she was relieved when he leapt into action, moving forward to let her balance against him as he leaned her crutches on the wall. She needed no more encouragement than the feel of his arms sliding around her waist to melt into his embrace and - making sure to keep her weight off of her left foot - she buried her head against his chest. As his strong arms wrapped around her like a safety blanket, she finally took a moment to give in to the sadness that had been haunting her all day.

It was tempting - as she soaked up the comfort he was offering - to crumble entirely. She’d been desperately holding it together because she knew that once she started letting the emotions out, it would be hard to reign them back in, but despite the need for a good cathartic cry she knew from the tension in his muscles that a breakdown would come with more questions and as she wasn’t in the mood to discuss how she was feeling, she forced herself to get it together almost as quickly as she’d let herself start to fall apart.

“I’m okay,” she assured him, hoping the accompanying sniffles wouldn't undermine her words. “But can we just not talk about it tonight? I’d love to just not think about it for a while.”

When she leaned back to look up at him, his worry was written all over his face. However, after a moment of contemplation, he slowly and reluctantly nodded his head.

“Sure, but can I ask you one last question before I agree to that?” He waited for her to nod before he continued. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Kinda,” Madeline admitted. “It’s not so bad if I keep it still and I could probably walk on it if I really had to, but it would definitely hurt because it’s pretty painful whenever I move it.”

That information made Chris’ frown deepen even more, but as a sigh fell from his lips he offered her a deal.

“Okay, then I promise that I’ll let it drop if you promise to keep your foot elevated with ice for the rest of the night.”

“I can do that,” Madeline eagerly agreed. “That’s what I had in mind anyway. As much as it might kill me, I absolutely plan on doing everything I’ve been told to do. I don’t want to take any chances.”

There was a flicker of surprise in Chris’ eyes, but it melted quickly into relief. It was a fair reaction considering Madeline’s track record with being a bad patient. Her stubborn tendencies had her almost incapable of slowing down, but while she may have been notorious for pushing through a bad cold or flu, the stakes were too high when it came to an injury and she really did plan on following her recovery instructions as closely as she possibly could.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” he confessed, taking her assurance as permission to help her and bending just enough to slide his arm under her knees and lift her into his arms. “I was worried I’d have to fight with you all weekend to get you to take it easy.”

Madeline felt a smile slide onto her lips as she draped her arm around Chris’ shoulder while he carried her into the living room taking extra care not to bump or jostle her ankle.

“You were going to fight with me?” She questioned. “In my time of need?”

“I didn’t want to,” he insisted, her teasing tone twisting his lips into a smile of his own. “But I was psyching myself up for it. I know how important rest is for injuries like this and I know you like to think you’re too tough to ever need a break.”

“Not this time, this time I know I have no choice.”

She’d fought to keep her voice nonchalant, but she heard the strain - the edge of fear that she couldn’t shake from her mind - and the way Chris paused as he placed her on the couch with his eyes tracing over her face as if searching any crack in the brave façade she was putting on told her he could hear it too. However, she was relieved when he kept his promise and didn’t push the issue.

“Well, you’re in good hands,” he informed her as he stepped away to pull the coffee table close enough for her to rest her leg on and found a cushion to place under her ankle. “I’ll be your nurse all weekend. I’ll grab you some ice now, but if there’s anything else you want then just let me know. I’m here to tend to your every need.”

“Wow, I’m so lucky,” Madeline giggled, watching him hurry off to the kitchen before shouting after him, “We should get you a sexy outfit!”

She heard his chuckle echo from the other room until he reappeared with an ice pack in his hand.

“Yeah? Would you like that?”

“I think I would,” Madeline teased, feeling a wave of gratitude as he gently placed the ice on her ankle, glancing at her to make sure it was in the right spot. “I think it just might make this whole mess worthwhile.”

“If that’s the case then I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, shooting her a wink. “But for now, is there anything else you need?”

Reaching out to pat the cushion beside her, Madeline shook her head.

“Just you. You’re all I need.”

Flashing her a smile that warmed her heart, Chris moved around the table to join her on the couch.

“I think I can handle that,” he agreed, leaning in for a kiss as soon as he was sitting beside her. “I love you.”

The words seemed to quiet the anxious thoughts spinning around Madeline’s brain better than anything had all day and she quickly repeated them back to him before shifting the conversations to anything other than her current situation.

They talked about how excited he was to be jumping back into the world of Steve Rogers, but how tiring it was while his body readjusted to the long days filled with physical stunts and how he was dreading the thought of running around in Captain America’s costume in the hot Atlanta summer. They talked about the places in the city that they could check out if Madeline’s was planning on sticking around and - despite the reason for it - Madeline felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of getting to sleep next to Chris every night for the next few weeks. It was hard for them when he was filming at times when she had to be in New York and it really was a nice silver lining that she was able to travel with him for once. They ordered takeout for dinner and Chris put on her favourite movie, but the exhaustion caught up to him about halfway through as he dozed off with his head in her lap.

Knowing he needed the rest, Madeline turned down the volume on the TV to make sure it wouldn’t wake him up and as she let her fingers soothingly run through his hair and looked down at his peaceful face, she was struck by just how much she loved him. She’d always been skeptical of soulmates - it seemed crazy to her that there was just one person in the world that everyone was meant to find - but when she thought about her relationship with Chris, she had to admit that all the evidence was there. He really was her other half. When she’d fallen and the immediate agony in her ankle told her that she was in trouble, he was the first person she wanted to talk to. Even as the rehearsal dissolved into chaos and Heidi rushed her to the hospital to make sure her ankle wasn’t broken, he was the only thing on her mind and as soon as she had her diagnosis, booking a flight to see him was all she wanted to do. Being in his presence was the only thing that could calm her frantic heart and she was so grateful for the patience he’d shown her and the care he’d taken of her that evening.

Her anxiety was still bubbling under the surface no matter how hard she’d been trying to push it from her mind, but getting the chance to spend a few unexpected weeks with Chris was a pretty great consolation prize and she just hoped her ankle would heal fast enough that she could truly embrace their time together.

The next morning it quickly became clear that none of the calm and optimism that Madeline had gained by her quiet evening with Chris was going to last very long. He’d woken up early to head to the gym with the promise of returning with breakfast and while Madeline felt okay as she lounged in bed, things started going downhill after she used her crutches to swing over to the couch.

She felt her heart sink as soon as she settled her foot on the cushion beside her. The swelling wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the day before, but she was hoping that it would have improved a lot more than it had. Wanting to get a better look at it, she slowly unwrapped the bandage and the still prominent bruise had her anxiety spiking even higher. The pain she’d felt when she’d moved it as she was trying to get out of bed had left her with low expectations, but the sight of how little it seemed to be improving had tears flooding back to her eyes.

Her plan had been to keep the bandage off for a little bit while icing it, but she couldn't bear to look at her bruised and battered ankle a moment longer than necessary. She quickly tried to re-wrap it, but her heightened emotions and the panic that had heart pounding in her chest was proving to be too distracting for her to get everything lined up right. She was vaguely aware of the sound of the front door opening and closing a few minutes later and the sound of Chris calling out to announce his return, but her focus remained so fixated on getting her ankle covered up that she didn’t notice he was home until he was standing right in front of her.

“Whoa, Maddie, what’s going on?” He asked, ditching the bag with their breakfast in it on the table as soon as he saw her flustered state. “Is it your foot?”

“Yes!” Madeline huffed as she screwed up the bandage and threw it onto the couch beside her. “I can’t get this stupid fucking bandage back on.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he assured her, his brow furrowed in confusion as he sat on the couch by her foot and cautiously took the bandage from where it had landed. “I can help you with that.”

Feeling her composure starting to slip away, Madeline felt a surge of annoyance rising up as she snapped at Chris.

“It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all! Look at my foot, it’s not getting any better!”

For a moment, Chris looked stunned by her harsh tone, but he stayed calm and didn’t let her outburst faze him.

“It’s only been a day, Maddie. A day and a half, max,” he reminded her. “I know it’s hard to see it like this, but it does look less swollen and these things take time to heal. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Thank you so much, Chris,” Madeline rolled her eyes. “I thought you were an actor, not a doctor, but I’m so relieved that you’re medically trained as well. Your expertise is so helpful.”

Her words were dripping with sarcasm and as she saw Chris’ jaw twitch with annoyance, she had the decency to feel a pang of guilt at how she was speaking to him and that guilt only got worse when he spoke.

“I’m just trying to help,” he assured her, his soft voice sounding even more gentle in contrast with her hostility. “I know you’re frustrated, but don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m not frustrated,” Madeline admitted, letting out a sigh as she knew that he was right and didn’t deserve to be the target of her abuse. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he nodded. “And I know it must be really hard to just wait and have faith that your body will heal, but the doctors said that you were going to be fine in a few weeks, right?”

“But what if I’m not?” Her words were quiet as she was sure that if she spoke any louder her voice would break and she’d lose the battle against the tears she was fighting to control. “What if I’m not fine?”

Chris paused for a moment before lifting his shoulders into a shrug.

“It would be a tough adjustment,” he admitted. “But you’re stronger than you think, you’d get through it.”

“How would I get through it? I would lose my job!”

Madeline’s tone gave away her disbelief in his apparent nonchalance about the severity of the situation, but nothing could prepare her for the next thing that came out of his mouth.

“I think I can handle supporting you financially for a while.”

The words hit Madeline like a slap across the face and she recoiled away from him in disgust. The fact that he thought finances were even a spec of what was causing her grief had her feeling like the man she’d been considering to be her soulmate just the night before didn’t even know her at all.

“Are you serious?”

Chris nodded hesitantly to confirm that he was and while the look on his face made it clear that he was unsure why she seemed so offended, his cluelessness only made Madeline more angry.

“It’s not about the money, Chris! I didn’t get into ballet for the money! It’s about having a purpose in life and a reason to be proud of myself because dancing is the one thing that I’m actually good at!”

“Maddie, that’s not true,” he insisted. “You have plenty of talents and there’s other things that can provide a purpose in life if it comes to that. You know, like having a family.”

He flashed her a smile that she was sure was supposed to be reassuring as if his words were supposed to ignite a flicker of excitement about their future, but all it did was remind her of the conversation she’d had with Anna at her New Years Eve party a few months earlier. “With a job like yours, you’d need to take at least a year off.” That was what she’d said and that was only referring to a wedding, a family would be an even more time consuming endeavor and not one that Madeline currently had the emotional capacity to even consider.

“I don’t need another purpose,” she told him, her voice firm and frosty as she suddenly felt like she was suffocating under the weight of her anxiety and the conversation they were having. “Can you go away? I want to be alone and I can’t storm away from you right now so I need you to go.”

“Storm away from me? Madeline, what are you talking about? I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she insisted, swallowing hard as her tears finally managed to push past her defenses and fill her eyes. “Please, leave me alone.”

“No, I wanna talk about this,” Chris demanded, the hurt on his face doing nothing to soften Madeline’s irritation. “You’re upset, I’m not just gonna leave.”

“Fine,” Madeline snapped, carefully moving her foot off the couch. “Then I will.”

Ignoring Chris’ protests and taking extra care to keep her weight off of her ankle, Madeline used the arm of the couch to pull herself to her feet. However, the tears blurring her vision and the emotion charging her movements made her already poor skill with crutches even worse. She’d left them leaning against the back of the couch, but as she frantically tried to move them and settle one under each arm, something got caught in the commotion and sent her tumbling to the floor.

Letting out a cry that had Chris leaping up to help her, Madeline caught herself on her hands and managed to keep her injured foot away from any further danger, but as all the fear, anxiety and frustration finally boiled to an overwhelming point, she found herself completely helpless against the floods of tears that began to stream down her cheeks. She pitifully turned herself until she was sitting on the floor as defeated sobs wracked her body, but it didn’t take long for Chris to appear by her side.

Knowing her choices were limited, she let him help her get back up to standing on her good foot and when he pulled her into a hug, she practically collapsed against his chest. As she’d predicted the day before, once the floodgates were open it was impossible to close them again. She clung to his shirt - partially for balance and partially just to have something tangible to hold onto - and let it all out. She cried for the pain, she cried for the worry and fear about how well or fast her injury would heal, and she cried for the heartbreak of the fact that the one person who she thought always knew what to say had said something so entirely wrong.

She allowed herself a few minutes to cry against his chest and wallow in the things she was feeling before she tried to steady her breathing and get herself back under control. Considering her conversation with Chris was really the only thing upsetting her that she had any control over, she knew it was the easiest thing to fix and she composed herself enough to speak.

“I don’t want your money,” she sniffled, leaning back to look up at him as she frantically wiped at her tears. “I don’t care about that at all.”

“I know you don’t, that was a dumb thing to say,” he admitted. “When you said that you might lose your job, I just thought that maybe you were worried about it and I wanted to offer you any kind of comfort that I could.”

“There is no comfort,” Madeline whimpered, her lip quivering again. “This is a nightmare. My entire life is on the line and all I can do is wait and hope for the best.”

“I know, I can’t imagine how hard that is. I’m so sorry, Maddie.” His words had another wave of pain and anxiety wash over her, but as she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to fight back her tears, she heard Chris quietly murmur, “C’mere.”

As he had the night before, he slipped an arm behind her knees to lift her and carry her back to the couch. Once she was settled with her leg lifted beside her, he briefly disappeared before returning with another ice pack in his hand. He rested it gently on her ankle before sitting on the floor beside her and despite their disagreement, Madeline was grateful that he’d chosen to stay close.

“What am I going to do, Chris?”

The question was so quiet that it barely broke the silence that had settled between them, but it caught Chris’ attention nonetheless and he leaned his arm on the couch as he reached out to grab her hand.

“You’re going to be fine,” he insisted. “You just need to rest it for now.”

“But what if I’m not fine?” She pressed, no longer able to push all the intrusive questions from her mind. “I’ve been working my entire life to get where I am now and it all might just disappear because of one stupid mistake.”

“It’s not gonna disappear. I know it’s hard, but you’ve gotta stay positive,” he reminded her. “You said the doctors think you’ll be okay so you have to trust their judgment and focus on what you can do to help yourself recover.”

“But what if I can’t do enough?”

“Then we’ll worry about that when we know it’s actually a problem,” he shrugged. “But I called one of the guys on the stunt team this morning because I remembered him mentioning that his wife is a physio. Turns out that she’s one of the best in Atlanta - not just in his opinion, it seems like a legit claim - and she said she’d be happy to help you out as soon as the swelling goes down a bit.”

The fact that Chris had been proactive enough to reach out to someone on her behalf made her heart swell in her chest in a way that had a wave of guilt washing over her for how she’d just been treating him.

“Oh,” she sniffled, using the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her eyes again. “That’s really nice of her.”

“It is,” Chris smiled. “And I know how hard you’ll commit to whatever you have to do to get back on your feet so I have no doubts that you’ll be totally fine, but I’ll be here for you no matter what happens.”

“I know,” Madeline nodded, reigning in her emotions enough to explain her earlier reaction. “I just felt like you were being a little dismissive, I guess. Saying you have enough money to support me and that I can find a new purpose. I’m not ready to even think about that being a possibility and you made it sound like it would be no big deal.”

A frown slid onto Chris’s face as he squeezed her hand a little tighter.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he assured her. “I know how devastating that would be for you. I was just trying to say that I’ll always support you and that we’ll get through this however it ends up, but I’m sorry that I obviously didn’t choose the right words.”

Madeline wasn’t sure that there were any right words to say ‘don’t worry if your career and all your dreams fall apart, we can fill your free time by having a family’, but the exhaustion of the rollercoaster of emotions that she’d been on the last few days had her simply nodding her head and lifting their joined hands to her lips to press a kiss against his skin in acceptance of his apology, letting the subject drop for the time being.

To their complete relief, all their worry and stress about Madeline’s injury proved to be entirely unnecessary. The day after their little argument, her ankle was far less swollen and bruised and clearly on the way to recovery. She made an appointment with the physio that Chris had found as soon as she possibly could and after a few weeks of diligently following the exercise plan that was made for her, her ankle felt as good as new. However, despite the positive results, the physio was clear that she still wasn’t allowed to even think about dancing until at least six weeks had passed since the initial injury which meant that although she found it very difficult to be without her favourite activity, she had the perfect excuse to stick around in Atlanta with Chris.

He was busy most days and exhausted by the time he came home, but they were happy to take advantage of any extra time that they were able to spend together. On days when Chris got up early to go to the gym before he had to go to work, Madeline went with him and did whatever workouts she was allowed to while he did his. On any days when Chris got a decent break for lunch, Madeline would join him on set and sometimes stick around to watch him work and every night - no matter what time Chris came home - Madeline would make dinner for them to eat together as they soaked up the novelty of spending their evenings in each other’s company. Even the simple luxury of falling asleep beside each other and waking up in each other’s arms was something they never took for granted and in many ways their relationship felt stronger than ever despite the unfortunate reason that brought Madeline to Atlanta.

But in some ways, Madeline also felt suffocated. The domesticity had been nice at first, but it didn't take long for her to realize that the life of a homemaker wasn’t for her. By the time she was strong enough to return to training, the idea of staying in Atlanta even a day longer than she needed to made her stomach turn. Planning her day around when she could see Chris and spending most of her time just waiting around for him was starting to make her skin crawl as she itched to get back to a life of her own and as much as she loved being around him and valued their time together, the relief that flooded through her as she boarded a plane back to New York had a flicker of worry running through her heart.

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @denisemarieangelina @elrw24 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @trottae17 @annvail @rach2602 @sarahdonald87 @firephotogrl74 @ourfinest-hour @k-evans-writes

#chris evans #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fic #back to you

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oncexinxmyxdreams · 1 year ago

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Encanto OC Event Week 3: Efecto Mariposa. One Life

(TW for pregnancy loss. No Alma bashing here either. She hasn't learned her lessons yet.) Decided to edit this. ☺️

Onto the first years! Mercedes eagerly joins the family routines. Bruno's a little more at peace with his gift since something good happened. They're both in marital bliss. Julieta, Pepa and Alma are cheerful. It's a great change in their lives. Then Mercedes starts noticing cracks in her new family. She witnesses more sides to her husband and in-law's bustling lives. She's worried about their health since they overwork. They should have time for themselves. She also hopes to have her art studio and make her hobby a job. Having stood up to her mother she gains confidence and discusses her concerns to Alma. It's brushed off.

Alma explains that Mercedes is now a Madrigal; she has a role and duty. She must be involved in the Madrigal's status and lifestyle. She has to partake with earning the Miracle that found them. She knows it's hard, but Mercedes will have to sacrifice her goals for this busy life.

That's not the only thing Mercedes needs to adjust. She's viewed as Bad Luck Bruno's wife than regular Mercedes as if she's not an individual. Anyone she knew before is avoiding her. There's gossip that Alma married her son off to his friend because nobody would court him. A sad shock is when Maria forces her family to leave the Encanto. Mercedes never sees them again and just when she was getting closer to her stepdad!

It's hard, but Mercedes doesn't regret marrying Bruno and he's her biggest supporter. He gets into debates with Alma about letting Mercedes do her own things than just help the Miracle all the time. Pepa and Julieta do as well. Though Alma loves Mercedes, she feels like she's steering her children, especially Bruno, down a different path than what's designed for them. She and her daughters are upset when Bruno suggests maybe they should have their own place instead of living in Casita full time. Scratch the cottage off their dream list! With these changes, Mercedes grows uneasy about sharing a big house with the family. She and Bruno are more content being alone. She wishes they had their own little house like some couples. It's tradition to live with the family, but they feel boxed up. Casita has their back by adding updates to Bruno's room so it's more like a tiny house. They already had a bathroom, but soon they have a kitchenette, reading nook, hammocks, and art studio. Casita also lets them get out more often when the family sleeps so they can have more alone time.

The couple still share hobbies and activities like before, but it feels closer. Some new things come up. Mercedes takes up back/neck massages for Bruno and it helps his stress. She pretty much convinces him to not shave his facial scruff because she adores the feel when they kiss.

After their 1st year, the worst happens: Mercedes has a miscarriage. It's very early, but that's sadly how she discovered she was pregnant. She thought it was menstruation pains only worse. Only Julieta and Bruno know. Mercedes blames herself while Bruno's hating himself for not seeing. What if he saw this coming and could've saved their child? Of course, there's nothing they could've done. It just happens. (This is the baby girl in that vision Bruno shows Alejandra and Francisca in the story canon. He doesn't realize it here yet.) Mercedes names their lost child Esmeralda. They grieve and hope they have another chance. After the grief, they're baby obsessed and try whatever possible to get pregnant. Nothing. Whenever Mercedes witnesses a family with a new baby Bruno clasps her hand reassuringly. It's not until October, right before they're 20th birthdays, they have a blessing.

Bruno feels an involuntary vision and Mercedes sits with him. The vision shows Mercedes on Casita's balcony and holding a baby! They're stunned, but overjoyed. Then Mercedes realizes she's missed her menstrual by a couple weeks! She already is! The two decide to wait another week or two because this was around the time of the miscarriage. After waiting and Mercedes develops a baby bump, they announce to a thrilled family. It's another short weeks later when Alma comments Mercedes is growing fast like she did with the triplets. 👀

Trying the vision again. It's completed with Bruno appearing with another baby. Twins! A miracle in pairs! 📿♟️

#encanto oc appreciation #Encanto OC event #Encanto #bruno x oc #bruno madrigal #Mercedes Reyes #Efecto Mariposa #tw pregnancy loss

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lyssentome · 2 years ago

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Seven Snippets, Seven People

Thank you for the tag, @traveler-of-realms !

Tagging: @writerfae @oh-no-another-idea @isabellebissonrouthier @eli-writes-sometimes@thedahliafrog @sassyglitterchaos @winterandwords

Rules: post seven snippets and tag seven people.

Heads up, this is a pretty long post, so snippets under the cut.

Just in case someone finds out that she wasn’t training her fire magic like she’s supposed to, she sends in a small spark of flame to ignite the vines twisting around the now-split apart dummy. When Valeria turns to Brynn with a questioning tilt of her head, she nods in approval, letting out a low whistle. “Very clever, Princess. I do admire the fact that you’re able to use multiple elements together to hide your weaknesses.”

Valeria grimaces, but nods in response. “Thank you. Though I’d much rather if I didn’t have any weaknesses at all.”

“You can’t always be perfect,” Brynn says, drumming her fingers on her thigh, occasionally tugging on the fabric of her black skirt. “And that is especially true in your case. Besides, sometimes imperfection is necessary. Some of the greatest discoveries and inventions come from mistakes, after all. Your lack of perfection is expected, what matters is what you make out of it.”

“You may not understand me now, or perhaps you never will, but everything I do is for your own good,” Rheia says, her tone as soft as the nostalgia-ridden smile pulling at her lips. It’s a smile she used often when Valeria was a child, when she’s plagued by nightmares late at night or when she made mistakes. “I… know I made mistakes. Perhaps you hate me for what I’ve done or how I’ve raised you. But do know that I love you, Valeria. That won’t ever change, despite every little disagreement we have.”

“I-” Valeria chokes on her words. Her mother isn’t usually so open about her feelings. It’s strange. Unfamiliar. She’s used to concerned questions and inexplicable acts of care, not straightforward, affectionate words. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Rheia rises from her seat, prompting Valeria to do the same. The queen approaches Valeria to pat her shoulders, the gesture somewhat stiff and awkward, but the smile on her face is soft, genuine. “I shall be off now.”

“Something on your mind, lad?” An older man states, startling Arden as the man claps on his shoulder.

Arden stifles the urge to flinch from the sudden impact with some levels of success. He smirks, snickering as he turns to face the man. He takes another swig out of his drink and lets out a short hum. “Nothing I want to share with a random old man in a dingy bar, I’m afraid.”

The man snorts. “If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have gone to a dingy bar in the first place.”

Arden focuses on the man for a moment, just enough to catch a glimpse of his emotions. Hollow. An underlying sadness covers his emotional aura, several layers deep behind his alcohol-induced mask of jollity and friendliness. If Arden looks closer, he can see the dark circles underneath his eyes, the slight tremor in his posture. The dim, yellowish lighting of the bar can’t hide that, just like how his inebriation can’t hide his sadness from Arden. He knows not to pry, though—that would make his condition worse, bringing his reality back to the surface—a reality the man is not yet ready to face. He keeps up the charade, letting out a laugh at the man’s joke.

The question almost catches Valeria off-guard, but she doesn’t show any outward reaction apart from raising her brows curiously. Her eyes fall on Sierra’s dark purple ones with a level gaze, the very epitome of basic civility she’s trained herself to use whenever speaking with the elven criminal. She takes a breath, pursing her lips slightly as she chooses the right words to say, tilting her head to the side. “The offensively oversimplified answer to that would be the fact that there are too many strings attached. To both of us, if I’m being frank.”

Sierra laughs, brushing a hand over her dark, tousled hair. Her eyes glimmer with what can only be described as twisted amusement; an expression Valeria has gotten used to seeing from Sierra. She shakes her head, and even as her laughs die down her amusement remains in the form of a languid, twisted smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s always the politics in the end when it comes to you, isn’t it?”

“I’m not the only player in this game,” Valeria responds coolly, linking her hands together on the top of the table. “Ultimately, politics and the people are the biggest players between all of us.”

“I know you’d kill me without a thought if you could,” Sierra continues as if Valeria hadn’t spoken at all. Her smile turns into a sharp smirk as she continues, her words barely above a whisper. “It’d be so easy for you. I can barely do anything anymore. But somehow, for some reason I can’t fathom, you refuse to do so. It’s clearly not just politics. I have a good idea on how you operate by now, Your Highness, and you don’t always play by the rules behind closed doors.”

Epione watches as Xylena looks up to the night sky with a pained look in her eyes, dim starlight reflected in her hazel eyes. She says nothing, simply watches the valkyrie looking up at the sky with an array of emotions written on her face. Her gaze is soft, almost glassy. Her lips quirk into a small frown, though there’s a look of fondness in her pain-stricken expression. This is definitely not the same valkyrie assassin Epione and the royals were hunting down. This is a traumatized girl who misses the way things were before. Xylena reminds Epione of herself when she was younger and was all alone in her life.

The cool night air blows against her short platinum hair, making some stray strands sweep against her eyes. Xylena runs her hand through her hair, pushing back the stray strands as she lets out a long sigh. It’s almost like she’s stuck in her own thoughts and Epione is just a spectator, watching her drift away into her own world that she doesn’t understand. Yet there’s something so familiar about the look in her eyes, like Epione has experienced something similar to it. Maybe she has.

After a moment, Xylena breaks off the silence, turning her head to Epione’s level without actually meeting her gaze. “...You know, I used to love flying during times like this, when it’s dark and no one else is awake.”

Epione raises her brows in mild interest, “Used to? You don't like doing that now?”

“I got caught by Sierra once,” She mumbles in reply. A hollow, strangled laugh forces its way out of her mouth, “I think you can kind of guess how that went. But whatever you were assuming, it was way worse than that. I can safely say that it was one of my worst… experiences with her.”

The music’s tempo descends into a slower, gentler tune, the decorative illusions in the ballroom turning swirling sparks of reds and oranges into ribbons of blues and purples. When it hits a particularly low chord, Alexius pulls Valeria closer by her waist, the movement practiced so many times before it almost feels like breathing. Once he manages to ease himself into the slower routine, he looks into her eyes with a half-smile. “I won’t. I just want to know you better with how much our families revolve around each other, and so that Arden will stop nagging me about it.”

Valeria can’t help but snicker. Even though she’s a little suspicious, it’s not hard for her to imagine Arden nagging at Alexius about not getting along with her, as she’s had the counterpart of that same conversation multiple times. “I suppose you have a point. Still, don’t expect too much of me. I’m not sure you will find my company as enjoyable as you find Arden’s.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Alexius remarks, glancing down for a moment as if checking for something before turning to face Valeria again and continuing with a warm smile adorning his face, “for what it’s worth, this has been quite enjoyable. And I doubt that Arden would scold me about not getting along with you if your company was that undesirable.”

Valeria inclines her head slightly. She lowers her voice into a murmur, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing the conversation. “Yes. But beyond that, it’s extremely concerning to know that someone is presumably possessing or mind-controlling her. She’s a valkyrie. Valkyries don’t typically get easily influenced by psychic magic, no?”

“You have to take into account that she was–and is–in a vulnerable state,” Alexius replies, lowering his voice as well. His hand travels to the pendant nearly-hidden underneath his shirt. He glances away, a distant, pained look coloring the swirls of his stormy gray eyes. “I… wouldn’t be surprised if the emotional toll of everything she went through affected her resistance against psychic magic. Grief affects the psyche, after all.”

Yet another reason why emotions are a weakness–with how much power they have over one’s magic, it’s a miracle that people like Alexius still exist, who wear their hearts out on their sleeves with no hesitation. Not even Arden can reach that point; Valeria knows her brother well enough to know that he uses his humor the same way she shuts down emotional responses. Sometimes, just sometimes, she does wonder what it’d be like, but at the same time, Valeria isn’t raised to be someone like that, nor can she cope with that situation. In a perfect world, maybe, but for now, all of that remains as nothing but a series of thoughts in Valera’s mind.

“I suppose so,” Valeria replies, shrugging primly. She presses her lips into a thin line, “It’s still concerning, though. You heard her talk about the attack being a distraction. I’m not sure I want to hear what it was a distraction for.”

#writing #my writing #hos: a wip #writeblr #writers of tumblr #aaaa i keep tagging the same people sorry if i accidentally spammed you :(#also this is like. with varying degrees of quality lmao #well i hope you enjoy anyway i think this is the longest post i have #tag game #tag games

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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Faultless - Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

WC: 7.5k / navi / preview

Summary: After a car accident leaves you with a painful concussion, Hotch volunteers to be your live-in nurse so that you don't have to stay at the hospital. He's hellbent on spending the weekend doting on you, drowning in guilt because of the accident and your subsequent injury, but you're hellbent on spending the weekend getting him out of his bad mood.

Contents/Warnings: typical cm case mentions, slight gore/mentions of injuries, reader has a concussion, hotch is sad :((

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Easy,” Aaron muttered, his breath short from lugging your bags up the stairs while supporting you under one arm, “Don’t trip.”

You felt around the doorframe with your foot, making a point of stepping over the wooden board on the floor and crossing the threshold into your apartment. You had been exhausted before having to climb up thirteen flights of stairs, and you were going to complain for a very long time about the elevator being out of service on the one day you needed it the most.

You felt around blindly for your couch, gently tugging yourself out of Aaron’s grasp to sit down on the padded cushions. You could feel him still hovering over you, the concerned frown that had been settled on his lips all day probably still in place, but you couldn’t muster up enough professionality to open your eyes, to pretend like your head wasn’t splitting itself open from the inside out.

Your throbbing headache was the result of a rather concerning concussion, one that you’d acquired from your head hitting the dashboard after an unsub had rammed their vehicle into your own. You had been in the passenger’s seat, and thankfully the van had hit you by spinning out and sliding into your bumper instead of t-boning you. You were certain you’d be dead if he’d hit anywhere else.

You wanted to say that you escaped unscathed, but you hadn’t. Aaron’s hand hadn’t quite shot out fast enough to cover your chest and keep you pressed against the seat, instead it had brushed against your shoulder as you lurched forwards in your seat, your skull slamming into the dashboard.

The medics had said it was only the locking of your seatbelt that had kept you alive. If it hadn’t given what little restraint it could offer (subsequently burning a line into your neck from where it slashed across your skin), you’d have shot completely forward, probably catapulting through the dashboard and dying before you hit the ground.

You’d never been more thankful for seatbelts.

You heard your bag being set down beside the sofa, then the soft click of your door being shut. Hotch was light on his feet as he trekked back through your apartment to stand beside the couch, not wanting to make your headache worse by storming around.

You heard rustling from beside your head, and you blearily peeled open your eyes to look for Hotch. He was much closer than you’d expected, kneeling on the carpet beside you, one of his hands reaching for the bandage on your forehead while the other held a new, fresh one.

“I need to replace this,” He tapped lightly against the end of the bandage, “You bled through it.”

You groaned at the harsh lighting above you, but knew that he needed it to rebandage your cut, so you nodded. You let your eyes drift shut again, only wincing momentarily as Hotch peeled the blood-soaked bandage from your wound and began tending to it.

You were somewhat surprised at how attentive Aaron was being. He had been kind to you since day one, letting you know that the rumors you’d probably heard about him from the rest of the team were just jokes, that he didn’t bite, and wouldn’t rip your head off. He’d apparently noticed your reluctance to relax around him, and wanted to ensure that you weren’t scared off by his reputation. You quickly learned that there were truths in both sides of the story, that he frowned far too often for his own good, but that he was a softie at heart.

You supposed that he had volunteered to take care of you after the crash for three reasons.

One being that he had been driving when you’d gotten into the impromptu accident. Of course, it hadn’t been his fault, the situation was out-of-control. But he often blamed himself for any casualties that happened on-site, simply because he was the Unit Chief. It meant that he was often plagued with guilt over situations that didn’t even concern him, and you’d have to be sure to comfort him later about it.

Two being that you were rather young for an agent. You had joined the team far earlier in your career than almost anyone else had, (save for Reid, of course), so you were, regrettably, babied. Sometimes it was more subtle and caring, like Prentiss remembering to pack your favorite snacks in her bag just in case you didn’t bring any. Or how Derek was always quick to offer up his windbreaker when you were outside without a jacket. But most of the time it was teasing, the way an older sibling would mock the younger one.

When it was mockery, it usually consisted of playful shoves in the elevator, aggressive pinches to the cheeks, and constant mentions of you being half their ages or more. You were never discredited as a team member because of your age, but everyone was always jumping at the chance to remind you that you were young enough to be Rossi’s child.

That particular joke hadn’t gone over well with Rossi, either.

Then the third reason, similar to the second, you were their newest agent. Your age and your time at the BAU were significantly shorter than anyone else’s, and while one again, no one ever thought you incapable, you noticed that everyone had a tendency to watch over you a little more than they did anyone else.

Especially Hotch. You’d thought yourself delusional the first time you realized that he seemed to hover over you, side-stepping in front of you in potentially dangerous situations and sending medics to you before anyone else. But you’d come to accept that he was especially doting, even if he’d never admit it through the surly frown on his face.

This was extremely evident now. The unsub had died in the crash, a suicide committed so that he wouldn’t have to face years in prison. That left you and Hotch as the only surviving victims, and he’d pulled his seatbelt right out of the wall trying to get out of the car and around to help you.

“Y/L/N,” He shook your shoulders urgently, “Y/L/N, wake up!”

Your head was throbbing, your throat dry from screaming, and your neck burning from the scratch of the seatbelt. You wanted so desperately to let yourself go, to succumb to the comfortable darkness that threatened to envelop you whole, but the full-blown panic in Hotch’s voice stopped you. You’d never heard it that frantic before, and you used almost all of your strength to peel your eyes open, your head pounding at the sunlight.

“I need an ambulance,” He shouted into his earpiece, the sound only making your headache worse, “We have a federal agent down!”

“Don’t close your eyes.” He urged, his panic-riddled gaze flitting over your bloodied face. He held your head up, your neck too fatigued to support it, “Look at- dammit, look at me, Y/N, don’t close your eyes!”

You tried saying something, anything, but your chest was heavy and your mouth wouldn’t open. You saw the anxiety in his eyes, you wanted to reassure him that you’d keep your eyes open, that you’d pull through for him, but nothing came out. Instead, you studied his face, your eyes grazing over every stunning feature it displayed. His nose, ever-so-slightly crooked, was divided in half by an angry red gash. His eyebrow was slit similarly, a red ooze trickling down his cheek. His lips, always held in that intimidating frown of his, were trembling slightly, his teeth digging into the backs of them to hold in a sob. His hair was caked with sweat and blood, a crimson trail making its way down his temple, but you knew he’d be okay.

He watched you watch him, his panic dwindling each time you blinked and your eyes reopened. The moment between you two was serene in a morbid way, both aware of the other’s near-death and both relishing in the other’s life. His own breathing was shaky, nearly shakier than yours, but he grounded himself with one hand on your cheek, the other behind your head and supporting your neck.

Sirens sounded throughout the wooded road, and the next unsteady sigh that came out of your mouth was one of relief. Hotch reluctantly looked away from your face, tracking the van that screeched to a halt in front of the crash site and rushed over to you both.

Hotch had helped load you onto the stretcher that they prepared for you, his hand never leaving your cheek as the other slipped around your waist. You stared blankly up at whatever happened to be in front of your face, but as you were loaded into the ambulance, your eyes lingered on Hotch’s bloodied form, standing outside and craning his neck to watch you be hauled into the back of the ambulance.

A medic began asking him what hurt, what possible injuries he might have, and if he could remember any part of his body getting hit specifically. But he didn’t answer while the doors were still open on you, only looking away when they shut in his face, obscuring his view of you.

You were honestly jealous that he’d escaped in such great condition. All he had to show for the accident was a sprained wrist and a few cuts, and your brain had been slammed into your skull.

You were jealous, but not resentful. You were glad that he hadn’t gotten injured further, especially because it meant that he was cleared to take care of you. The rest of your team had all volunteered, even Rossi stepping up to offer his nursing services. But Hotch had insisted, a self-loathing glint in his eyes as he told you he’d make sure you were alright over the weekend.

And as he kneeled beside your head on the couch, his tongue pinched between his lips in intense concentration as he rebandaged one of your cuts, you knew he would deliver on his promise. You just wished he wasn’t doing it out of guilt.

“That should last for a few hours.” Aaron smoothed the bandage onto your skin, his voice as low as humanly possible so as not to aggravate your headache further, “We’ll change them again after dinner.”

You let out a soft groan, raising one hand to cover your eyes, “I forgot about dinner.”

“You don’t have to eat if you’re not up for it.” Hotch used your coffee table for support as he stood.

“No, no,” You shook your head slightly, moving as little as humanly possible while doing so, “I meant, like, I don’t have anything here that we could eat. My fridge is empty.”

“It’s fine.” His hand came to rest on your shoulder for a second, a reassuring gesture because you couldn’t see his face, “We can order pizza.”

“Pizza,” You nodded hazily, “Yeah, pizza sounds good. I’ve got cash in the drawer,” You motioned vaguely to your kitchen, knowing full well you hadn’t been specific enough for him to locate it, “I’ll call later and we can-”

“Y/N,” Aaron interrupted you gently, “Don’t worry about that now. You need to take your painkillers, and the doctor said they’d make you drowsy. Why don’t you take them now, and you can nap until dinner?”

“But- but it’s already nine,” You protested weakly, “It’s too late for me to nap.”

“These are not normal circumstances,” You felt the couch dip by your feet, and you bent your legs, your calves pressed flush to your thighs, “You nap whenever you feel tired.”

“Are you hungry?” You peeked one eye open, wanting to see any hidden information he might have withheld from you otherwise.

“No,” He shook his head, and from what you could see of him, he looked truthful, “I can wait.”

You let your eye slip shut again, nodding once, “Okay. Where are the pills?”

They were harder to swallow than you thought they’d be, large and grainy and awkwardly-shaped. Aaron had to support the back of your neck while you sipped, and his other hand supported the water glass from the bottom, your hands too shaky to ensure a safe drink.

The water was heavenly, though, and you regretted not asking for some earlier. Your throat, dry and cracked from screaming during the accident, was soothed quickly by the icy liquid, and you finished the entire glass in only a few big sips.

“I can get you more, if you want?” Aaron’s voice came from directly beside you, and you shook your head lightly, slumping back down onto the pillows.

“No thanks,” You breathed, “I just want to nap.”

You felt a hand on your thigh, pressed close to your knee in a reassuring pat. Then a blanket was draped over you, most likely the fuzzy blue one that laid on the arm of your couch.

“Sleep for as long as you need,” Aaron’s final words to you sent a thrum of endearment up your spine that blossomed in your chest, “I’ll stay right here with you.”

Aaron fought the urge to reach out once more, letting his hand take up permanent residence on your leg. The gesture had been comforting, of course, but he couldn’t deny that it had felt cozy, natural even. He had never been one to get lost in his fantasies, but the single touch had him imagining all of the other blissfully domestic scenarios in which he could replicate it.

You’d be watching a scary movie, your brows furrowed in anxiety. You’d flinch at a jumpscare, tighten your hold on his arm, and he’d shift his hand over to your thigh, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

Or you’d be on the jet after a long case, your head slumped onto his shoulder. He’d rest his hand on your thigh, a soft but intimate gesture, so that you knew you could relax.

Or he’d be laying beside you in bed, his head on the pillow as your back rested against the headboard. He’d reach up and squeeze your thigh softly, compelling you to set down your book and finally lay down to sleep beside him.

His breath hitched and shame burned at his cheeks when he realized that he’d just let himself get lost fantasizing about being in bed beside his coworker. You were recovering from a concussion, one that he blamed himself for, and he was having delusions of married life with you.

He stood from the couch abruptly, shaking his head slightly at his unprofessional behavior. Your little apartment was stuffy from being closed up for five days straight, and he set off towards the windows, keeping the shades pulled for your head’s sake but slipping the windows open underneath. Fresh air rushed into the room and he breathed it in desperately, as if it would purge him of his delusions.

He shut his eyes momentarily, exhaustion gripping at him but panic keeping him awake. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the way he felt when your head had hit the dashboard.

He had reached out as soon as he’d seen it coming, desperately trying to catch you before you could get hurt. But he hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t been enough. You had slammed face first into the dashboard, a blood-curdling scream torn from your throat as your nose cracked. It was still crooked, swollen and bloody, but Aaron had just replaced the bandage over its bridge, and you’d mentioned that there was ice in the freezer if the swelling didn’t go down.

None of his own injuries were on his mind as he replayed the accident, the sinking hole in his chest as he’d watched you hit your head. You’d crumbled against the dashboard on impact, and he swore he’d never felt as much raw panic as he had in that moment. Being unable to get to you for those few short seconds had been agonizing, and he’d do anything to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

Once he’d finally gotten to you it was like it wasn’t real. He was holding you, you were looking at him, he was looking at you, but it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel real that you were injured, and at the same time, it didn’t feel real that you weren’t dead. Nothing about the scenario felt real, and he’d stood there in paralyzing panic as he waited for the ambulance.

He’d been a wreck on the ride back. They hadn’t let him into your ambulance, and he’d kept eye contact with you until he couldn’t see you anymore, the doors shutting on your near-lifeless frame.

He hadn’t even accepted his own hospital room, forcing Reid to give the doctors one of his infamous ‘second opinions’ so that he could deny treatment and reach you faster. He was almost certain that the young doctor had only done so out of fear of losing his job, because the intensity that he knew had been present in his gaze at the time scared Reid.

As soon as the doctors had let him go, reluctantly so, he’d taken up a chair by your bedside, waiting restlessly for you to wake.

He turned back to your sleeping form on the couch, ready to go and sit down again. He wanted to sleep too, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to, so he settled for the idea of sitting beside you, staring into oblivion while you slept. It was the most rest he was going to get for a few days, if his guilt never died down.

He realized that you’d shifted in your sleep, your feet now stretched out to the other couch cushion, the one he’d been sitting on. He started for one of your chairs, stopping before he could lower himself into one, and glancing back at you.

He needed to be with you.

Holding your drained, near-lifeless body had been terrifying. He had felt your breathing shallow, had seen your eyes struggle to open, had watched the life dim in your eyes. Sitting across the room from you at that moment seemed like his personal hell, his fingers itched to feel the warmth of your skin and his ears longed to hear your calm, even breaths.

He padded to the couch, reaching carefully for your feet. He slid his hands under your ankles, lifting them off of the cushions and turning, sinking down onto the couch and resting your feet in his lap.

It felt perfect, he could feel you, he could see you, he could hear you, but it felt wrong. It felt intimate, just like his hand on your thigh had. He lectured himself once more on not being delusional, his brain already cooking another domestic vision up before he could stop it. He kept his eye on you, his cheek resting against the back of the couch as his eyes drooped. Your chest rose and fell steadily, your eyes shut snugly, the bandage on your forehead no longer soaking up fresh blood. Your injuries were starting to heal, and Hotch took solace in the fact that you wouldn’t be plagued by your cuts anymore.

But your concussion, that would last. He knew that you’d be okay, it hadn’t been fatal, but you were going to suffer for a while. Guilt and despair once again stabbed at his chest as he thought about what it would be like if he had just caught you, if he’d reached over a split second sooner.

The painkillers that the doctor had prescribed you hadn’t fixed everything, but they had dulled your headache. It was a soft pounding now, instead of the raging fire that had burned behind your eyes. You blinked them open hazily, squinting around the darkened apartment and shifting to do so. Your feet hit something solid, and you felt it move beneath them. You peered at the other end of the couch, seeing your feet stretched out over Hotch’s lap as he dozed.

His face was set in a deep frown, worse than the one that normally adorned his features, as one of his hands laid over your ankles. You had assumed that in sleep, Aaron would relax, but it seemed as if he was even more stressed than before.

You felt an instant pang of embarrassment, you must have shifted in your sleep to lay your legs over his lap. You chided yourself on probably making him uncomfortable, though you couldn’t deny the butterflies that flitted around your stomach at the feeling of being so domestically intimate with him.

When he wasn’t barking orders at you, he was incredibly attractive. Actually, even when he was barking orders at you, he was incredibly attractive. You’d tried to suppress your feelings towards him, especially because he wasn’t just your coworker, but your boss, and you thought you had succeeded. Sure, the feeling of his hand on your cheek had been nice, the rampant concern in his eyes after the crash had been endearing, but you knew you had to settle for just being friends.

Your stomach grumbled, as if on cue after you’d just woken up, and you tugged your feet out of Aaron’s lap, sitting up cautiously against the arm of the couch. He didn’t seem to notice, although his unconscious frown deepened when his hand fell to his lap, and you grabbed your phone, ordering pizza for the both of you. You were happy that you remembered his favorite type of pizza from an impromptu late night at the office a while back, or you’d have had to wake him, and you wanted him to get all of the rest that he could. The delivery said it would be there in 20 minutes, and you used that time to get yourself another glass of water. It was a simple task, and your nap had apparently returned some of your basic capabilities, but you couldn’t deny that Aaron helping you drink had been better than drinking alone. The bottom of the glass was cold on your fingers, and you wistfully wanted his hand to be there instead.

You stood leaning against your kitchen cabinets, the living room behind a partition wall that shielded the couch from your view. Your apartment suddenly felt empty, and even though you knew Hotch was just sitting on your couch, you felt alone.

You weren’t sure how this would affect your feelings towards him. He’d already been so caring, so attentive towards you, and it was pushing you closer and closer towards a dangerous territory that you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from. You’d stayed sane by keeping a healthy distance between you, engaging in casual conversation or trading jokes, but pointedly avoiding sitting beside him in tight spaces or taking his jacket when he offered. Now that boundary was gone, and he was sleeping on your couch, your feet having been draped across his lap only minutes ago.

You were too lost in thought to hear the shuffling from your living room, but you were alerted to Aaron’s consciousness when he came rushing into the kitchen, eyes blown wide in panic before they settled on you.

“Y/N,” He breathed, his shoulders heaving as he let out a sigh of relief, “I thought- god, you were just gone, and I panicked.” He slumped forwards against the counter, blinking sleepily as he tried calming his pounding heart.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” You set your glass down, leaning over to set a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He nodded, rubbing an exasperated hand over his face and hissing in pain when it irritated one of his barely-healing cuts.

Blood began blossoming along the tear in his skin once more, and you tutted, pulling his hand away from his face.

“You’re bleeding.” You reached for the bag of bandages that he’d set conveniently on the counter after patching you up, wetting a cotton ball with the disinfectant that sat beside it.

“You don’t have to-” He began, waving you off while prodding gently at his cut, but you cut him off, once again tugging his hand away from his cut.

“Just let me take care of it,” You barely caught yourself before saying ‘you’, deciding that ‘it’ was far less intimate. Your cheeks flared anyways, though, the knowledge that you’d almost slipped up haunting you as you cleaned up his cut.

The cut was on the apple of his cheek, just below his eye. Your thumb rested against the dark circle above it, the pliant skin flushed under your finger. You made a mental note to be sure he slept well this weekend, even if it would be on your couch for lack of a spare room. You felt his eyes on you as you cleaned up his cut, but pointedly avoided looking at him so as not to give yourself and your feelings away.

You weren’t sure if you’d survive gazing into his concerned eyes only inches away from his face.

You discarded the soiled cotton ball, your fingers slightly moistened by the chemical. The bandage crinkled beneath your fingers as you peeled the waxy paper from it, smoothly spreading the cloth over Aaron’s wound.

You left a soft tap on the pad of the bandage once you were finished, moving away to get yourself out of the potentially awkward situation as fast as possible. But you felt resistance, your eyes widening as you realized that Aaron’s hand was cupping the back of your neck.

You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him placing it there, but the suggestive warmth that it brought you had your concussion and the car accident wiped completely from your mind.

All that was there now was Aaron, his dark eyes staring intensely into your own as he tugged you closer so that your noses were brushing. He seemed just as transfixed as you were, barely breathing as he drank you in. The short, soft breaths that he was taking were fanning gently across your face, grounding you even more in his presence.

“Hotch,” You murmured, not wanting to shatter the serene silence with your voice, “We can’t.”

You wished you kissed him. You wished that you’d shut your mouth, pressed it to his, and moved on with your day. You wished you hadn’t said that, hadn’t prompted him to ask ‘Why not?’

“Because,” You breathed, your voice shaky as he leaned imperceptibly closer to you, “We have to-”

The sound of the buzzer to your apartment interrupted your moment, the atmosphere shattering at the harsh sound, ‘Delivery!’

“-go get the pizza! We have to go get the pizza.” You slipped your head out from under his hand, rushing for the door and leaving him standing over the kitchen counter.

You answered the door with shaking hands, nearly handing the pizza man a $50 instead of a $20 for your $15 order.

Aaron slumped against the counter with a heavy sigh.

He hadn’t meant to lose what little control he still possessed after the accident. He supposed that the shock and terror at nearly losing you made him want to ensure that he never lost you without telling you how he felt. But that didn’t excuse his actions, or the mortified exit that you’d made as soon as you’d gotten the chance. Clearly, he’d made you uncomfortable.

You brought the pizza back to the kitchen nearly in tears, terrified at possibly never getting the chance to kiss him again. You’d wanted to, you’d even brushed away any fear of losing your job out of desperation to reciprocate, but you’d panicked. You had panicked because what if it wasn’t good? What if he didn’t like it? What if it was a spur-of-the-moment that he’d regret later, and you’d be the one he kissed out of pity just because you’d almost died? You knew that both of you were high-strung, emotions running strong, and you were sure that it was the only reason he’d tried to kiss you. You wouldn’t let yourself believe that he had even an ounce of feelings for you, not the same way you had them for him. You wouldn’t let yourself enjoy temporary happiness if it meant that ever-lasting heartbreak would follow.

“Y/N,” Aaron spoke as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, “I’m so-”

“Do you want one slice, or two?” You cut him off, standing as tall and confidently as possible with the boxes in your hands.

Aaron stilled, stiffening slightly against the counter, “What?”

“One slice,” You swallowed what little saliva was in your mouth, “Or two?”

He stared at you silently for a moment, his discerning gaze picking you apart. Finally, his shoulder slumped, his face falling as he muttered, “One.”

The meds that you needed to take before eating were a hassle. This time it was a liquid prescription, and Hotch provided the medicine cup that you needed to measure it out with. It tasted bitter and grainy, and you quickly shoved pizza in your mouth to mask the aftertaste.

“These are supposed to knock you out,” He squinted at the fine print on the bottle, hovering over you much less since your run-in in the kitchen, “It says you might be kind of out of it for the night.”

You nodded silently, keeping yourself as far away from him on the couch as possible. You knew he was watching you shy away from him, and you tried not to look at the expression on his face, whatever it was, because you didn’t want to see it.

If it was disappointment, you didn’t want to see it because then he’d be disappointed in you. If it was anger, you didn’t want to see it because then he’d be angry with you. But if you ignored it, if you never saw it, then it wouldn’t exist.

You ate your pizza in silence for a terrible, awkward, stifling few moments, during which you shoveled as much into your mouth as possible so that you wouldn’t have to speak. Finally, though, Aaron finished his slice, and opened his mouth, this time not to put pizza inside.

“Y/N, I really think we should-”

“Do you want to watch tv?”

“Y/N, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but-”

You had reached for the remote without letting him finish, clicking on the television and turning the volume up.

“Y/N,” Aaron spoke, his voice softer and more meek than you’d ever heard it before, “Please.”

You felt a hot wave of tears brimming at your eyes, and panickedly tried to blink them away, dread tugging your stomach down. The last thing you wanted to do was confess, but your medication was inhibiting your filter and making you more emotional.

“I’m sorry,” You blubbered, “I wanted to kiss you!”

You set your empty plate on the coffee table in front of you, the ceramic thunking against the wood, “I really wanted to kiss you!”

Aaron watched you slump forwards, your face in your hands as you sobbed.

“Hey,” He reached out, setting his own plate on the table, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry, come here, Y/N.”

He slid his hands around your waist, tugging you upright and back onto the couch. He expected you to curl up against the other arm of the couch again, hellbent on getting away from him, but you fell into his lap, your face pressed against the material of his pants.

He brushed a cautious, gentle hand over your back, the other hovering awkwardly by your face. He couldn’t really see it, not most of it, anyways. Your flushed, tear-stained cheek was all that he could see as you sobbed into his lap, and he reached forwards, brushing a stray tear off of your skin.

“Don’t cry,” He repeated, his voice low, and soft, and soothing, “Y/N, it’s okay, don’t cry.”

“It’s not okay!” You gushed, rising from his lap as a steady stream of tears dripped off of your cheeks, “I feel gross, and you’re helping me, and- and you’re so sweet and I’m tired, and you’re so warm, and soft and I wanted to kiss you so badly but I- I got scared and now- now everything is messed up!”

“Shh,” Aaron cut off your ramblings by pressing his broad thumb to your lips, the rest of his hand cupping your cheek comfortingly, “It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up, everything is okay.”

“It’s not!” You repeated, “I’m never gonna get to kiss you again, and I ran away! I ran away, god, I’m so stupid!”

“You’re not stupid.” Aaron fought back the smile that threatened to take over his face, upset at the distress on yours but elated to hear that you’d wanted to reciprocate, “I promise you I’m not upset, and- um, if you’d like the chance again later, maybe we can consider kissing again.”

“Do you mean that?” You hiccupped pitifully, a sniffle following it.

“I do,” He promised, half hoping that you wouldn’t remember the embarrassing promise he’d just made to you in the morning, and half hoping that it would be the first thing you asked for when you woke up, “I promise.”

You smiled weakly at his reassurance, blinking drowsily as your medication ran rampant. He continued rubbing your back, though his hand fell from your cheek when you spoke.

“I’m tired.”

He couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle, nodding reassuringly, “I thought you would be. Why don’t you lay down, you can sleep for the night and then tomorrow we can- oh.”

Without a second thought, you’d slumped over onto his shoulder, your arms wrapped around one of his own as you clung to his arm. In your hazy, post-cry daze, you pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, the material of his quarter-zip soft against your lips.

“I love you, Aaron.” You mumbled, your voice still wobbly from your tear-fest.

The admission struck him with the most comforting sense of shock, one that made a smile burst over his face. You shut your eyes without even waiting for him to respond, your legs tucked neatly underneath yourself as you designated him your pillow for the evening.

He knew you wouldn’t hear him, and even if you did, you wouldn’t comprehend what he was saying. But he said it anyways, leaning his head against your own and murmuring a soft, “I love you too, Y/N.” as you snoozed.

Aaron watched your chest rise and fall slowly and evenly, relieved that you were sleeping peacefully. He knew full well that you'd have a splitting headache for far too long, and was happy to see you get some temporary relief.

The dramatic reality show that you'd insisted on drowning him out with was still playing softly in the background, eerie music choices and startling sound effects amping up the ridiculousness of the surely-false story. Aaron reached for the remote that was in your hand, gently uncurling your fingers from around it. He set your hand back in your lap, but it found his once more, a soft whine coming from your throat as you shifted in your sleep.

Your head that had been slumped onto his shoulder fell forwards, your neck surely suffering at the awkward angle. He rushed to readjust you, but you followed the motion blindly, your head slumped into his lap. At first, your nose pressed against the zipper of his pants, and he panicked. Before he could adjust you, though, you turned over, nestling your cheek against his thigh facing the television instead. Your face relaxed from where it had been scrunched in unconscious concentration, a serene expression crossing it as you sighed contentedly.

Aaron thought it was the most adorable noise he'd ever heard. A soft smile threatened to break over his face after his panic, and for once, he let it. You weren't awake or coherent enough to see it, so why not? He smiled warmly, happily, adoringly at you as you slept in his lap. He reached for the blanket that had been folded on the arm of your couch, quickly shaking it out as best he could and draping it over your frame. You snuggled into it just as much as you had his thigh, and after a drawn-out moment of staring at you with a lovesick smile, Aaron let his head fall back against the cushions, his eyes slipping shut as he let sleep take him a happy man.

Waking up was warm. You blinked open your eyes, your gaze immediately landing on the plates that you hadn’t cleaned up from the night before. The pillow you were laying on was considerably comfier than any you knew were on your couch, and you rolled onto your back to see that it was, in fact, not a pillow, but your boss.

Aaron’s face was relaxed as he slept, a stark contrast to his crankiness during his first nap. Now he looked serene, happy even, as he leaned back against the back of the couch, his hand draped over your waist. You were sure that sleeping at that angle would prove difficult for him, so you slowly sat up, humming softly as he stirred.

“What…” He mumbled sleepily, squinting around at your apartment, “What time is it?”

“Really? That’s all I get?” You propped yourself with one arm, your hand pressed flat against his thigh, “You promised me a kiss, you know.”

His eyes widened, any leftover drowsiness instantly vanishing as he stared down at you.

“That is,” You started, uncertainty lacing your voice, “If you’re standing by your promise?”

“You want to?”

“I do.” You nodded, waiting eagerly as he blinked owlishly, his brain running at full speed.

“So do I.” Was all he said before he surged forwards, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was lazy, somewhat sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it was perfect, because it was with him. You hummed softly into the kiss, leaning forwards to rest your forehead against his own, bringing him closer to you.

You broke away after a few moments, keeping it short and sweet instead of dragging it out. You weren’t opposed to going further, not when it was Aaron you were with, but you were still concussed, and eager to rest. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, your nose nestled against the heated skin of his neck as he sighed contentedly, one hand coming to rest on your back.

“I can’t believe you remembered.” He mused, his voice slightly raspy from sleep.

“How could I forget?”

“I wasn’t sure if you meant it.” He added, “You were pretty drugged up.”

“I meant it.” You spoke softly, “I’ve meant it for a long time.”

“I’m glad,” Aaron admitted, “Me too.”

The silent serenity of the moment capture you both, and you nearly fell asleep again nuzzled into his neck. But your stomach grumbled, once more letting you know that it was time to eat, and Aaron chuckled softly at the sound.

“Breakfast?”

‘Breakfast sounds perfect.”

You moved out of his lap, your heart fluttering as he took your hand, tugging you up onto your feet and guiding you into the kitchen. The pizza box from the night before was still sitting on the counter, as were the medical supplies, but he pushed them aside, making room for your toaster.

“Anything on it?” He questioned, pulling two pieces of bread out from your loaf.

“Just butter.” You hummed sleepily, pulling said spread out from the refrigerator.

As soon as he emptied his hands, the slices of bread now toasting, you snuck up behind him, your arms winding around his waist. He stiffened in surprise, but melted at the embrace, turning so that your face was flush to his chest instead of his back.

“How’s your head?” He asked, punctuating his query by smoothing his hand over your scalp.

“It’s better,” You started, “Not completely, but the meds seem to be helping.

“That’s good.” He seemed to tense when you told him it wasn’t completely better, the popping of the toaster giving him an excuse to turn away.

“Aaron?” You pressed, standing beside him and watching him open the butter, “Is everything okay?”

“Your head still hurts.” He mentioned dismissively, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because your head still hurts.” He deadpanned, waiting for you to prompt him further.

“Aaron,” You started, your voice hesitant, "You can't seriously blame yourself for that car accident." You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing the answer but wanting him to hear the words spoken aloud.

"I do." He had no trouble admitting it, avoiding your gaze as he buttered the slice of bread he'd just taken out of the toaster, "You knew he was going to swerve, you even told me."

"I guessed he was going to swerve," You reminded him, "I didn't know."

"Well I didn't listen, and he did, and he hit us, and now you have a concussion."

“Aaron, stop.” You set a hand over his, taking the knife from his grip and abandoning the toast he was doctoring, “Look at me.”

He followed your instructions, meeting your eyes hesitantly, hoping to not showcase the self-hatred swirling in his own.

“You had no possible way of verifying whether my guess was true or not. We were in the middle of a high-speed chase, what if you’d stopped to avoid a crash but he’d kept going? We would have lost him.”

“We did lose him.”

“But now he can’t hurt anyone anymore. He didn’t get away. If you’d stopped, he would have.”

“But your concussion-”

“Doesn’t matter to me. We got the guy, that’s what matters to me. I’m okay, I’m alive.” You gestured down your frame, as if showcasing your living, breathing body, “And you’re okay, you’re alive. Yeah, I’ve got a week-long headache in front of me, but it’s worth it to me to know that that guy is gone.”

“You got hurt, though. We got him, and I’m glad. I won’t deny that. But I can still be upset about you getting hurt.”

“So can I,” You agreed, “But don’t be mad at yourself. I’m not mad at you, why would you be?”

“I… I just-”

“You just have a habit of blaming yourself for things you had no control over. And I won’t let you do it now.”

You huffed lightly at the end of your sentence, and it seemed to bring him out of his hesitancy. He cracked a slight smile, “You won’t let me?”

“I won’t.” You doubled down, “You’re not allowed to.”

“Yes, sir.” He teased, turning back to the toast and laughing incredulously when you bumped your hips against his, sending him stumbling sideways as he was caught off-guard.

“You need better balance.” You grabbed the knife that had slipped from his hands as he’d stumbled, buttering your own toast while he stabilized himself, “That almost floored you.”

“I wasn’t ready for it.” He insisted, a hint of a whine slipping into his voice that you’d never heard before, “No fair.”

“Anything’s fair now,” You laughed, “I’m injured and you have to be nice to me.”

As soon as you were finished buttering your toast you plated it, slicing it in half up the middle. You headed for the living room, intent on turning the television on and eating with Aaron, but he took you by surprise, charging you from behind and wrapping one arm around your waist, the other taking your plate from your hands so that it didn’t fall.

You shrieked indignantly as you lost your balance, but his arms snaking around your waist stopped you from falling. He turned you around, and you heard his soft chuckles against your cheek as he scooped you into his arms, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. You stared down at him breathlessly, your mouth hanging slightly open in surprise.

“You need better balance,” He mocked you, “That almost floored you.”

“Aaron!” You repeated his earlier comment, a bashful laugh escaping your lips as he held you tightly against him, “No fair!”

His laugh, deep and loud and comforting, made happiness swell in your chest, not even dimming when he set you down. You grabbed your toast once more, hearing him pad after you until you got to the couch, sitting much closer to him than you’d elected to the previous night.

“I’m gonna tell Garcia that you terrorized me this weekend,” You mused, biting softly into the buttered toast with a crunch, then as an afterthought, “Oh my god, what are we gonna tell her? The team, they’re all gonna find out. What do we do?”

“Nothing for now.” Aaron reassured you, setting a hand on your thigh while you ate, a smile growing on his lips as he remembered fantasizing about doing just that the night before, “We don’t have to be their big scandal yet, for now, let’s just be us.”

tags: @sunflowermotel @wheelsupkels @honeybrowne @aaronhotchnersbbg07 @la-stuffs @jhiddles03 @criminalmindsandmarvel @anlin2058 @averyhotchner @ink-and-fables-4-u @curr3ntlycry1ng @simpingfortoomanypeople @toomanyfictionalboyfriends

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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bajisbabe · 3 years ago

Text

# IT’S JUST A CIGARETTE

you need a cigarette but he won’t let you have one | Aki x Reader

warnings: smoking, kissing, Aki and the reader enemies if you squint, but the reader is eager to gain his recognition too, the reader is a lil’ naive, lil’ bit of a brat, lil’ bit of a crybaby, and sucks at smoking.

synopsis: Takes place during the mission in Chapter 15. Aki is your partner on said mission. While the others are away, patrolling the halls, you find that you need something to ease the stress, so you take one of his cigarettes. And he doesn’t like that.

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 1 2 3

You and Aki have been paired up on a mission. Forced to chase down a devil that won’t stop running. And now, it has led you to a floor in which you’re trapped in some kind of labyrinth. And try as you might, you can’t seem to find an exit.

To make matters worse, you and Aki decided to stay behind while the rest of your unit patrolled the halls. Gradually, it began to feel like hours had passed and none of them had returned. Had you known it would take this long, you would’ve gone with them.

Of course, this situation is weighing heavy on your shoulders. It has been hours—or at least that’s what you think. You can’t be sure now that the clock has stopped. Aki has left the room momentarily to check the hallway, and you notice that he’s left his pack of cigarettes on the table.

So you casually stroll up to the pack and decide to take one, feeling no guilt as you doubt he’ll miss a single cigarette. You bring the cigarette to your lips, peering around to see if you can find what you need to light it. Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t left his lighter behind. And before you can find a lighter, Aki comes rushing in through the door.

And he is quick to ruin your attempt at finding some kind of relief.

“No.” He says, snatching the stick from your fingers and tossing it to the ground. He stomps on the tobacco with his foot, grinding it into pieces and staining the carpet below. “M’not letting you smoke that. It’ll rot your bones—”

“But you smoke it!” You whine, throwing your arms out in exasperation. You were stressed and needed something to take the edge off. Surely, a smoke wouldn’t hurt; even if it was your first. “You smoke all the time, and I—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off coldly, glaring at you from out of the corner of his eye. “If I say you’re not smoking, then you’re not smoking.”

You sit in silence for a moment, pouting some as you glance up at him from under your lashes. He has his back turned, looking out int the hallway to see if he can find your co-workers. You decide to take your chance then, reaching out for the pack of cigarettes and taking another.

Just as you’re about to put it between your lips, he grabs you by the wrist. His grip unyielding as he yanks you closer, “I said, you’re not smoking.” He grits out through bared teeth. “Why won’t you listen to me—?”

“You’re not my dad,” you say childishly. And before you can pull away, his grasp on you tightens to an extent that has your knees buckling. You crumple, hissing in pain as he works the stick from your fingers yet again.

“Don’t argue with me, stupid.” He spat, eyes blank as he took the cigarette from you. He pulls it to his lips, tugging a lighter out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette. He shows no remorse or guilt as you sit there, on the floor, rubbing your wrist as though the pain will go away.

He catches your eye for a brief second, causing you to look away. You despise him. You don’t want anything to do with him. He’s selfish, he’s crude, he’s mean, and he just overall doesn’t treat you very well.

You hate him.

But you have no other option as all the devil hunters have been paired up or assigned to someone else. You and him are a team now, you just wish you weren’t.

“M’supposed to be your partner,” you grumble under your breath. You don’t intend to cry, but you feel a lump forming in your throat and the backs of your eyes are burning. “Yet, you don’t even treat me like an equal.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, parting his lips to let the smoke swirl and curl in the air before his eyes. And you’re envious. Tobacco must serve him well if he has a habit of smoking. It must make him feel good or something. You want to feel good too.

“I’ll treat you like an equal when you start acting like one,” he says, quietly and calmly. He always seems so nonchalant about things, never feeling strongly about anything unless it concerns his past or the Gun Devil specifically.

Your nose burns as the room begins to fill with lingering smoke and the scent of tobacco. You try not to make a disgusted expression; trying not to prove his point that you don’t need a cigarette. But you can’t help it as a frown appears on your lips.

He notices immediately, an eyebrow raising and a subtle tug of his lips. But it disappears before you can see it. He approaches you, steady and fast. His waist bent as he sank to your level, “Wanna smoke that bad, huh?”

The smell is enough to make you seriously regret your decision. You try to shake your head, or voice that you’ve changed your mind. But he is already grabbing you by the arm and tugging you to your feet.

“Don’t act shy now,” he says, the cigarette wiggling between his lips. One hand clutches your shoulder, the other working the lit cigarette out of his mouth. You pull back but he doesn’t let go, his fingers holding the cigarette and pressing it to your lips.

You jolt, attempting to push him away. He doesn’t budge, pressing harder until you relent. And you have a split second to note that the tip is damp with what you suspect is his saliva.

“Breathe in,” he says.

You turn away, trying to escape the sudden burning of your lungs. He shows no mercy, clutching your shoulder harder and practically shoving the cigarette into your mouth.

“Breathe in,” he repeats. “Do it now. Show me that you’re my equal.”

His equal. So, that’s what this is about. Your lungs burn as you inhale, taking too quick of a breath and doubling over as he removes the cigarette from your mouth. You cough and gag, spitting up as you try to rid of the taste it left behind.

He again shows no remorse or guilt. He simply takes another drag from the cigarette, seemingly uncaring that the same cigarette was just in your mouth. He taps the end of it against the table, letting the ash fall as he watches you cough and sputter.

“You wanna be treated like my equal, right?” He said, eyeing you from the side. He watches your eyes become glossy and wide as you finally catch your breath. Cruel and inconsiderate and he pushes on with the one-sided conversation. “Then take another drag, and don’t cough it all out this time.”

He holds his hand out, the cigarette balanced between his long fingers. His expression is blank as he waits patiently for you to make a move. You can feel your eyes burning just at the thought of having to take another drag. You don’t even want to entertain his cruelty, but you desperately want him to treat you fairly.

… should you…?

You gulp thickly, throat itchy as you slowly reach out. But before you can touch it, he pulls the cigarette away.

“Uh uh,” he says quietly, no emotion present in his voice. “...C’mere.”

You blink back tears of discomfort, still trying your damnedest not to choke over the remnants of smoke left behind from the first drag. You bite your lip, hesitating. But eventually you come to him. And he beckons you closer and closer until you two are only a breath away.

“Here,” he mumbles. “Do as I say, okay?”

You nod, your eyes on him the whole time. And he feels a strange shudder run down his spine. Something about the way you’re looking at him and how obedient you’re being. He likes it.

“Open your mouth”—you part your lips for him, and he gently places the cigarette on the curve of your lower lip—“Now breathe in. Slowly.”

He watches you take another drag, your chest trembling as you fight back the urge to cough. And you succeed in taking in the smoke. A small smile tugs at his lips as he instructs you again. “Hold it…” his eyes rack over your face, focused intently at every little twitch and jerk. “Now let it all out.”

You rush the exhale, coughing and sputtering again but not as much as before. You don’t notice the hint of admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. There’s something he likes about you—something he never noticed before.

He could’ve sworn he disliked you before. He always thought of you as lazy, ignorant, and overly passive. But something had changed in the last couple of seconds. He liked you.

“Have I”—the rasp of your voice draws his attention—“Have I proved myself yet?” Your eyes are watering, one squeezed shut as you gasp and swallow. Smoking clearly wasn’t for you. But you were desperate to please.

Maybe that’s what he liked. How you seeked recognition. Or maybe, how you fought so hard to prove yourself to him when he was no one special. You must respect him then, if you serve to please.

The corner of his lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with you looking at him. So close, mere inches away from your lips brushing his. And you seemed unbothered by the lack of space between you two. He would take advantage of your naviety to social cues later, but now he had something else in mind.

“No,” he said.

“No?” You repeated, having to clear your throat after hearing how ghastly you sounded. “Whaddya mean ‘no?’”

“I mean, no.” He said, shrugging as he walked past you. Only one or two steps away before he turned to you, having to bite back a cruel grin. He liked toying with you like this. It was nice, and it took the stress of the situation away.

Maybe, he would do this more often. You could have his cigarettes in turn, and he could play with you instead. He wouldn’t need the sticks if he had you.

“One more.” He said quietly. “One more drag and I’ll consider you my equal.”

You stood in silence for a moment, unsure of whether or not to believe him. What little you knew of Aki hadn’t brought you to believe that he was a bad guy. He didn’t seem like the type to toy with others, not that you knew of. But you didn’t know much it seems. Foolishly agreeing with a curt nod of the head, “Okay.”

You tried to snatch the cigarette from his hand, far too confident in your ability to do as he asked. But like before, he dodged you. Eyes narrowing as he gestured you to come closer. His fingers curl as you follow his lead.

“This one’ll be different.” He said.

“What?” You muttered. “Well, that’s not fair. Why should this one be different if the other two were—”

“You wanna be my equal or not?”

That shut you up. With a huff, you glanced over at him, waiting for further instruction. His heart stuttered at the sight of your obedience. You were listening to him and without fuss. He found it intriguing.

“C’mere.” He said.

You wanted to argue, to say that you couldn’t get any closer considering you were already as close as could be. But you didn’t bother, knowing he would likely just shut you down and cut you off again.

You pressed closer, your bodies brushing against each other. And for a split second, you thought about how bad of an idea this was. The devil could show up at any moment and you would be unprepared if you kept messing around with Aki. Or even worse, Denji and the others could walk in and you’d never hear the end of it. But you found yourself justifying the action with the simple thought that you could win Aki over like this.

You and him would be a team for real this time. And he would treat you as an equal and you could work so well together. Wouldn’t that make all this worth it?

You decided that you were going to go through with it, no matter what he asked of you. But you hadn’t been expecting it honestly—what he said next.

“I’m gonna take a drag, and then feed it to you, okay?”

You froze, eyes blown wide and brows furrowing. What was this, some kind of joke? You choked, and not on the smoke this time. “Very funny,” you spat. Your defenses coming up quick, you didn’t even think twice before saying it. “I’m not doing that—”

“Don’t you wanna be my equal?”

You stammer and stutter, unsure of what to say as he takes a drag from the cigarette, closing the space between you both quickly. You put your hands up as though to push him away. But you freeze again, body stiff as he grabs you by the jaw. He tilts your chin, working his tongue into your mouth with ease.

And you find yourself clutching onto his arms, as he tugs you closer. The smoke swirling out of the spaces where your lips don’t quite meet. Your lungs burn and your eyes itch, but you don’t pull away. Whether because of your eagerness to please or because of how good his tongue feels against your own, you don’t know.

But when he pulls away, your head is hazy and it’s hard to breathe.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, his large hand placed on the space just below the base of your neck. “Come on. Breathe.”

And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You can feel the blood rush to your head, your face heating up. Why had you done that, why had you followed him so mindlessly?

What were you thinking? What if he told someone, or if someone found out? Would you be fired? He’s your mission partner, you can’t just—

“So? Now that you’re my equal,” He says suddenly, causing you to flinch. He raises a brow before continuing without much care. “Did that ease your stress or do you need another smoke?”

#chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #chainsaw man imagines #aki drabble #csm x reader #csm drabble #csm x you #cw smoking #cw kissing #csm x y/n #csm headcanons #chainsaw man headcannons #aki headcanons

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unfortunate-songbird · 2 years ago

Text

WHY LEO DIDNT DESERVE ANY OF WHAT HE WENT THROUGH: an essay by me

movie spoilers :)

ok so at the beginning of the movie he’s shown screwing around when he should be training, yeah?

okay, yes, arguably irresponsible, but considering it’s been 2 years since shredder and there’s no mention of any other formidable foes besides your typical Large Pig, Married Couple, and Bug Man, it’s understandable that he’s pretty lax about everything. Dont get me wrong, I totally get Ralph’s side! He’s constantly worried about a new threat appearing when they least expect it, plus even their regular missions can be life threatening if they aren’t careful

but dude Leo’s just goofing off and having a funky time, he doesn’t deserve the Epic Emotional Beatdown he gets in the movie

“Oh, but he’s just in general egotistical and braggy”

yeah. he’s 16. Donnie has probably broken the Geneva convention at least twice man idk. He’s a dumbass turtle doing dumbass things.

Then we get to the argument. What really gets me here is that Leo is visibly listening and taking what Raph says to heart- until the moment it gets too dark for him. Saw this pointed out somewhere else, but man really does use humor to cope. of course, in doing so he brushed off Ralph’s very real and important concerns, frustrating him

the fight over the key? Yeah, not his best work.

in his defense tho, if he actually knew the severity of the situation, he’s proven before that he can be completely serious (even while keeping his jokey persona) when things get more drastic. I truly believe after they meet Casey, things stop being about straight overconfidence. Leo goes into the fight jokey, but it’s been proven many times that he will often quip while putting his all into his battles, so that’s not the best judge of how seriously he’s actually taking it. he doesn’t insist everyone stays behind to get the key. he goes out himself, taking the risk because Casey is desperate to get it for really good reasons! I think his actions there- while somewhat reckless- would’ve been seen in a positive manner in most other movies. He’s taking the risk to grab the literal World-Destroying object.

then Raph gets taken

Leo has a panic attack, and he’s more visibly distraught than we’ve ever seen him, to the point where he gets actually, genuinely, dangerously angry for the first time in the entire franchise. He’s probably blaming himself for getting Raph caught.

His stubbornness next isn’t because he’s overconfident. He’s just so focused on getting Raph back, no matter what. He HAS to get his big brother back. Leo doesn’t consider waiting to plan, or retreating, not when it would feel like giving up on his brother. He’s blindly consumed by his fear and desperation. He makes a lot of bad decisions because of it, don’t get me wrong! They were Bad Decisions! But I really think they weren’t about ego, not really.

I’m glad he learned a lot of valuable lessons but I’m also worried about the like

MASS amount of trauma he has now. Like, that’s some Heavy stuff. The trade off of character development vs whatever all this new trauma and greatly worsened self-sacrificial tendencies (bc they already existed in the show and are probably going to get concerningly worse) might not be the best. worried about that guy

anyway I really want to see what they do there because that was a roller coaster and the long term effects could be really interesting to watch

Also does anyone else see a lot of parallels between Leo and c!Tommy from the dream smp or is that just me? Like:

-cocky/confident persona to cope and also bc it’s funny

-self worth issues lmao

-the amount of character development needed could’ve easily happened with like,, some minor trauma but no they get the whole sha bang

-ping pongs between overconfident and low self esteem and also “nothing is ever my fault” vs “everything is my fault”

-16 y/old brutally beaten by an unbeatable foe in an inescapable prison only to eventually get out alive despite all odds

This post is kind of a mess lmao

#rottmnt leo #rottmnt spoilers #rottmnt #rottmnt movie #rise of the tmnt movie #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt movie spoilers #rottmnt season 3 #dsmp #c!tommy #c tommy

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jarofstyles · 3 years ago

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hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

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