#[Sorry for the late reply! Slowly getting back into the groove.]
Text
baby loves | blake hughes au
[blake hughes au]
summary: blake and nico find out they're expecting their first baby + the announcement.
word count: 1.2k
the bitter wind nips at blakes neck and hands as she trudges back home from the corner store a few blocks away. walking it seems - is the only she was going to be getting her workouts in as she was too tired to do anything after work. she could feel that familiar fatigue now, the droop of her eyes as strangers whip past her in their cars. she had thought that she was just bored and the business of her schedule had been exhausting her, but naps became more frequent and the excuses less plausible.
when she opens the door to hers and nico’s new place her animals quickly find her - another recent development. charlie, her doberman dog of the past 6 years, was anxious when it came to leaving blake unattended. goldie, the black cat, seemed to pick up on charlies traits and also loved to follow blake around the house.
blakes phone rings and she answers easily, “yes i’m home now. completely safe,”
“you shouldn't be out walking so late... it makes me nervous,” her husband replied in a thick swiss accident. she texted him where she was going out of habit, loving to narrate her day to him through brief texts. it made her feel like she was less alone when he was gone.
“i’ll take the car next time. i was just hungry,” she supplies, setting her two heavy grocery bags onto the counter. “how was the game? i meant to watch but i fell asleep,”
nico sighs, “you didn’t miss much”
blake pauses from unloading her food, “i’m sorry. you guys will find your groove soon,”
there was a brief silence on nico’s end and she could imagine the hurt and upset etched across his face from the teams losing streak.
“yeah… uh, …” nico stumbles on his words.
“i love you” blake speaks softly.
nico sighs, “i love you. I’m sorry for being quiet tonight. i’m just tired of this…” the this in question being losing.
before blake could manage a reply, the phone was snatched from nico’s hand and a surprisingly energetic jack spoke loudly into the speaker.
“hey blakey, nico said you weren’t feeling well this week?”
“i’ve just been tired. nothing serious,” blake remarks, continuing her effort in putting her groceries away. she went a little too crazy in the small store and now she had three different salsas and a variety of chips all calling her name…
“tired… i’m kind of tired too,” jack announces before entering his own conversation with his seatmate.
the line went quiet again and for a second blake thought jack had hung up on her before nico’s voice sounded through her speaker. “alright well, i’ll let you eat. we’re just driving back to the hotel now so i’ll call before bed,”
blake hums as she cracks open a jar of salsa labelled scorching, “alright love you, bye”. nico echoes her sentiments before hanging up the call.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
three boxes of pregnancy tests sit stacked under the cabinet in the master bedroom. since the teams baby shower last week, blake has had this overwhelming feeling that she was pregnant. it would explain the fatigue, the sickness, all the food, and the animals being so protective over her… she just had to wait for nico to come back home from a roadie so that she could test.
she was anxiously sitting on the couch with charlie resting across her lap when the front door opens loudly. “blake?” nico calls out, setting his suitcase in the entryway before walking into the living room.
“hi,” blake breathes out nervously as she wrings her hands in her lap.
“whats going on? are you okay?” nico’s eyes melt as he tries to study blakes face.
“i think i’m pregnant,” blake gets off the couch slowly, and nicos eyes follow her every movement. “i just have this feeling and i-”
“have you taken a test?” he asks and the corners of his mouth twitch as his excitement grows. they had been talking about starting to try for a baby a lot recently and nico couldn't wait for them to have a family of their own.
“no but i have some upstairs,” blake explains as nico grabs a hold of her hand. “i wanted to wait for you before taking any”
five minutes later, nico and blake sit on the edge of their tub as the timer on nico’s phone counted down from 3 minutes. the newlyweds hold onto each other tightly as they eagerly await their results.
soon enough nico’s timer echoes throughout the bathroom and the two are enveloped in nervous tension as they each grab hold of two tests. with shaky hands they flip over all of the tests.
pregnant
+
| |
pregnant 3+
“oh my gosh,” blake gasps as she turns to face nico with tears in her eyes. “we’re having a baby!”
nico’s slow to look away from all the positive tests but when he finally catches blake’s eye he starts softly crying. “we’re having a baby,” he echoes, pulling blake into a comforting hug.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
blake.hischier posted 4 months ago
liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, madisonbeer, and 37 919 others
blake.hischier late summer post🫂
tagged: nicohischier
view all comments
nicohischier Love you❤️
trevorzegras i miss the cat
user08 anyone notice how she hasn’t posted any full body / ootd pics recently? i miss them so much ive got no style inso now
user12 there’s a thread going around on twitter right now speculating that she’s pregnant and tbh i think she is!
user57 pretty girl!!💘
user94 baby hischier soon?👀
user36 i’m missing the podcast but i’m so happy that you’re moving onto new things! love you so much <3
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
a few months later...
blake.hischier
liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and 57 129 others
blake.hischier surprise !! rudi hischier was born in november 🧸🤍
tagged: nicohischier
view all comments
nicohischier Our boy🧸❤️
blake.hischier im crying again 🥹🤍
jackhughes 😭😭😭😭😭
jackhughes Now tell everyone that im his fav uncle
blake.hischier well….
trevorzegras middle name: trevor ✅
blake.hischier ?
_quinnhughes You guys are already the best parents. Rudi is so lucky that you’re his mom, i’m so proud of you blakey!
blake.hischier thank you so much quinny😭
lhughes_06 whens he getting in skates ?
user01 OH MY GOD?????
user24 i remember becoming a fan of yours when u were skating and now youre a mom… im crying
user16 they had a baby😭😭🫶
user87 your “N” necklace🫠 congrats u guys!!
nicohischier
liked by blake.hischier, curtislazar95, jesperbratt, and 43 012 others
nicohischier Rudi Hischier ❤️
tagged: blake.hischier
comments on this post are limited
blake.hischier my boys🥹🤍
tmeier96 congratulations to you two!
holtz_10 baby hisch in the house⚡️
lhughes_06 Cutest kid
dawson1417 Congrats guys!❤️
trevorzegras about the kids middle name ..
_quinnhughes Love you guys, congrats!❤️
jackhughes nephew looking fresh💯
-
-
-
#blake hughes au#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier x oc#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier blurb#nico hischier fic
330 notes
·
View notes
Text
3am | e.m
| eli (hawk) moskowitz x reader
warnings: s4 spoilers lol, uh crying ? that’s abt it. angst & fluff !
summary: its late and eli had to see you. he felt so lost, but once he was able to hug you he finally felt like he was at home.
authors note: hi babes ! i’m so sorry for being away. my mental health has been at an all time low recently. i plan to slowly get back in the groove of writhing again. but ! this is my first cobra kai blurb. i decided to post something short and see how well it does. (plus i just love eli w my whole heart). enjoy !! feedback is appreciated ! 🤍
(requests open)
Copyright © 2022 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
the constant tapping on your window was bound to wake you up, it was getting repetitive and annoying. with a quiet huff, you turned your phone on to check the time.
3:20 am
you ripped your blankets off your legs and walked to your window where the tapping continued. you opened the window carefully, then spotted eli. this wasn’t uncommon but he never came this late in the night. he stood there staring back at you with puffy eyes, which you hadn’t seen from him in a long time.
“eli? it’s three in the morning” you rubbed your eyes, still trying to wake up to make sense of the situation. “i know, can i come in?” his voice was quiet, just loud enough for you to make out what he said. you nodded, standing to the side allowing him in.
“what’s going on? you look disturbed.” you closed the window behind him, keeping all the cool air inside. he had sat on the edge of your bed, fidgeting with his fingers. “i can't sleep. tried everything” he shrugged your question off, avoiding confrontation. he averted his gaze, refusing to look at you. anything but you. “you can't lie to me. i’ve known you for years.” you took a few steps closer to him, “what’s really going on?” you hummed, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
he looked down contemplating his choice of words or if he should just rip the hoodie off. hesitantly, eli brought his hand up and removed the hood covering what once was his famous mohawk.
instantly you removed your hand from his shoulder to your mouth. a quiet gasp escaped your lips. “eli..my god” you whispered. “when…who..” you hesitated, putting your hand on his shoulder again.
“robby..” his voice breaking as he answered. you were quick to bend down and wrap your arms around him, which is exactly what he wanted. you.
“i’m so sorry.” you hummed softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head. eli could feel tears threatening to fall, he hadn’t been this vulnerable in a very long time. way before he had met you. but now, he never felt more lost. “i just don’t know what to do. or who i am.the mohawk kept the attention away from my scar.” he sniffles, which caused you to pull away and bring a hand to his chin bring his face to meet yours. “eli. you’re eli, you’re hawk. you are the boy i fell in love with. a hairstyle doesn’t define you.” he nodded, wrapping his arms around you again. “just promise you won’t leave me?” he murmured, pressing his head against your stomach.
hearing that only made your heart shatter. “eli..i could never.” you replied. “nothing is gonna happen to us. i promise.” your chin rested on his head, rubbing his back. “can i stay with you tonight? i don’t want to be alone.”
you took a quick glance at the clock, it was now nearing four am. “my parents are out of town for the week. so it’ll be okay. ” he nodded, “if you don’t mind.” you shook your head, finally
“everything will be okay, eli. i promise.” you smiled, reassuring him. “it’ll work out, i’ll be in your corner no matter what.” now, eli was feeling better now that he was holding you. you made all of his worries fade away in an instant. “thank you, y/n. i can always count on you” he shared, pressing a kiss on your temple and drawing circles on your back.
it didn’t take long for the both of you to pass out cold. it had always been the two of you and it will always be the two of you. no matter what obstacles life throws at you.
#eli moskowitz x reader#eli moskowitz#eli moskowitz x y/n#eli moskowitz imagine#hawk x reader#hawk imagine#cobra kai x reader#cobra kai#hawk cobra kai#cobra kai imagine#tory x reader#robby keene x reader#robby keene
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part fourty one)
Summary: Now that they're together, Conductor and Grooves are slowly settling in with their love for one another. Both have strong feelings for one another but don't always know how to express it.
Beginning | Previous | Next
Warnings: None
Word count: 585
Author's notes: Sorry for the long break, I've been working on Febuwhump. Anyway, here's another part for the AU.
Conductor yawned and scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to stay awake as he flicked through different possible poster options.
There were obvious options, such as featuring the entire main cast or ones that were simply him and Grooves as Satine and Christian.
Either way, the photo shoots were set for tomorrow as both a making-of and for advertising.
A pair of flippers landed on his shoulders. “You shouldn't be up still. It's late.”
Conductor shifted one hand to hold the flipper on his opposite shoulder, using the other hand to continue sorting through papers. “Five more minutes.”
Grooves sighed behind him, resting his chin atop the owl's head. “That's what you said half an hour ago, angel.”
Conductor paused, hands stilling over the papers. “Has it been that long?”
“I wasn't going to let you work yourself to death so I finished my book, which took half an hour, and then decided that maybe some handsome owl I know might want to not tire himself out,” Grooves replied with a huff.
Conductor clicked off the light at the table, standing and stretching. “Sure am lucky I've got such a pretty penguin lookin’ out for me.”
Grooves smiled softly, blue eyes creasing slightly behind his plainer glasses.
Conductor swallowed back a yawn before continuing. “Besides, I'm not that tired.”
Grooves rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he started to walk to his room. “You are just so intent on keeping your image sometimes, Conductor.”
“Says DJ Grooves,” Conductor retorted, quickly following his partner.
Both birds changed out of their day clothes before laying down in the bed, Conductor staring up at the ceiling fan.
“Grooves?”
The penguin shifted beside him. “You're meant to be sleeping, diamond.”
“Grooves, would yer still love me if I were a worm?”
The owl rolled onto his side, trying not to laugh at his boyfriend's unamused look. “Peck, Connie, can't this wait until the morning?”
The owl let out a mock gasp. “Are you sayin’ you wouldn't love me if I were a worm?”
Grooves let out a put-upon sigh before answering. “Yes, I would love you if you were a worm, although I don't even know how you're old-fashioned brain knows about that trend. Now can we please get some sleep.”
“Alright. Night sweetheart.”
“Night angel.”
Conductor couldn't fall asleep though, despite his exhaustion.
There was something off, he couldn't tell what it was.
But the flames inside of him somehow both felt weaker and stronger than ever.
“It's nothing, you're fine,” Conductor whispered to himself in the near silence.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was something, that he wasn't fine, that something was going to go wrong now he was allowing himself more freedom with his power.
What if he accidentally started a fire?
What if he got the urge to step into flames?
What if he burnt someone?
What if he hurt Grooves-
The owl flinched away from the penguin as his partner shifted closer.
With a dejected sigh, he slipped out of the bed, walking into the living room and curling up on the sofa.
He wasn't going to let Grooves get hurt, he'd already done who knows how much to the penguin's self image.
All those years of berating, of belittling the person he now valued the most.
Something twisted in his chest and his temperature flared.
Conductor clamped down on his thoughts and feelings.
He could do that much.
He could spare Grooves the danger of being burned.
#ahit#a hat in time#ahit au#ahit conductor#the conductor#discotrain#ahit dj grooves#ahit moulin rouge au#dj grooves#moulin rouge discotrain au
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Laisse tomber les filles 5
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses
This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.
Note: That slow creep, tho
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
You looked down at your body and fidgeted. The skirt was so short you pulled on a pair of stockings in an effort to hide your legs, and it was tight like the blouse. Both pieces seemed to be just a size too small. The boots were higher than any heels you’d worn before and you felt awkward in the get-up.
Noon. That was when he told you the night before as he kept stalling you from leaving. Every time you were ready to push open the car door, he had something else to say. You agreed to noon just to appease him so you could run and hide in your dorm.
You pulled on your long pea coat and stuffed your textbooks into your canvas bag with the leather straps. You hiked it up on your shoulder and slung your pocketbook from your other. You stepped out into the hallway and wobbled on the heels. You clung to the handle as you kept yourself upright.
“Wow, you look special,” Gina remarked as she peeked through the kitchen door.
“Um, thanks,” you pulled your coat closed and buttoned it, “it’s… new.”
“It’s cute,” she said as Lisa came to peek through the doorway as well.
“Where are you going?” the second girl asked.
“To study,” you said as you carefully made your way to the heavy door that led to the stairwell.
“Oh, study, huh?” she teased, “can’t be alone then.”
“I’m gonna be late,” you kept your chin down.
“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gina said as you opened the door and stepped out.
“I didn’t know she had anywhere to go,” Lisa’s trilled and her voice slipped into the hall just before the wood slid back into the frame.
You exhaled through your nose and braced the railing for your slow and treacherous descent. As you got to the bottom, you teetered and pressed yourself to the wall as two girls came through the door. You watched them flit up the stairs and scurried out into the spring air.
The weather was as bitter as before. It smelled like wet grass and mud. The sun beamed down warmly and made you sweat in your jacket. You gripped the strap of your bag and cleared the single step to even ground.
“Honey,” the voice drew your eyes up from your boots and you blinked.
The sheriff stood by his cruiser as he watched you. He didn’t wear his uniform, instead a pair of grey slacks and pure white button-up under his usual leather. He smiled and came to the end of the walk as you hesitantly closed the gap. Your heel caught in a crack and you stumbled. He caught you and gave a soft laugh.
“You okay?” he asked as he held your elbow in one hand and his other went to the small of your back.
“I’m fine,” you righted yourself and parted from him, “just didn’t see the crack.”
“Here,” he tugged on your heavy knapsack, “let me take this.”
You let him, unsure what to say. He was early. Your watch assured you he was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Your own timing was purely habit as you hated to keep others waiting.
“Thank you,” you squeaked as he put the bag in the back seat.
“So, can I see it?” he asked as he shut the door.
“What?” your brows knitted in confusion.
“The clothes,” he said lightly, “that is what you’re hidin’ under there, right?” he pointed at a large round button on your pea coat, “it’s too warm to be wearin’ all that.”
“Can I wait… until we’re at your, um, place?” you clutched the round collar of your coat anxiously.
“Oh, for my eyes only, huh,” he teased with a wink.
“No, I just… can we go?”
“Course, honey,” he brushed by you and opened the front door, “get in.”
You sat and pulled your legs in, hooking them around the edge of the seat stiffly as you crossed one over the other. The door closed and you picked at the metal clasp of your pocket book and chewed your lip. Why were you doing all this? You were an adult, he said it himself, you could say no…
You glanced around, his sheriff’s hat sat on the dashboard and you shook your head. No, you couldn’t. He was a cop and your discomfort wasn’t a reason to be uncourteous. Your mother always told you to push yourself out of your safe zone. She hated how you always held yourself back because you were scared. It was difficult enough to get you out of the house and into a dorm.
Once he was in the car, there was no turning back. You coudn’t lie about feeling sick or claim a forgotten study group, you were on your way and suddenly you were filled with panic. What if he wasn’t taking you to his house? Did that star on his hat really mean he was a good person?
“Um,” the syllable slipped from you nervously.
“What is it, hon?” he asked as he gripped the grooved wheel.
“Um, I don’t…” you stuttered as you searched for words. You couldn’t let him know what you were really afraid of, “so, uh, I would’ve thought that… you have a wife?”
His brows flicked up as you peeked over at him. He pushed his bottom lip out and hummed. He clicked his tongue and sighed.
“Well, I did,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to talk about it too much. She, er, she’s married to my deputy now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t…”
“It’s all over now,” he shrugged, “you know, I’ve moved on. We’re both happier for it.”
“That’s… good, then,” you murmured.
“Must be, I met you,” he smiled, “huh?”
“Well, I…” your hand shook and hid it up your sleeve, “I don’t know, I’m a bit young, aren’t I?”
“Young?” he said, “you don’t act it. You’re a lot more mature than lots of ladies I know. The way you carry yourself… you work hard I can tell. I don’t see your age, just a good woman.”
“Hmm,” you pursed your lips tightly.
“I mean it,” he insisted, “you got character beyond your age.”
“Thank you, but I… I don’t know,” you picked at the cuff of your coat.
“You brought your books?” he said, “must’ve. That bag sure is heavy. I got a place for ya all set up.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll be workin’ on supper, I hope you don’t mind the noise,” he drawled, “you know, I don’t cook often so I might be a bit… lost.”
“You don’t have to cook for me,” you offered, “really, it’s… too much.”
“I wanna, honey,” he said, “ain’t it special? A fellow cookin’ for his lady?”
“Uh, oh,” you frowned, “sure.”
“And you can turn the radio on if you like,” he continued, “it’s new.”
You nodded and listened meekly. Every argument you had for him was quickly shot down. He was so good at telling you how you were wrong or what to do while making it feel like good advice. Each demand, each want, was presented as common sense. It was impossible to argue with him because deep inside, you couldn’t argue with yourself.
While your gut told you something was off, your head assured you of your paranoia. You didn’t know any better, did you? You didn’t know how these things worked, how men and women got along, so of course it would feel strange to you. But he knew and he was so confident about it, he must be right.
📚
Lee’s house was nice, just outside the city limits. It reminded you of the suburban homes you passed on your way to high school in your hometown. You only ever lived in an apartment with your parents and so found the place extravagant compared to boxy until attached hallways noisy with troublesome neighbours.
He led you onto the porch, the wood painted white, and opened both the screen door and thicker wood one ahead of you. You were forced to brush against him as you entered. He was quick to trail you, the screen snapping shut behind him. He hung his leather coat and tugged on the back of your collar as he plunked down your bookbag.
“Go on then,” he said, “let me see it, honey.”
You closed your eyes and steeled yourself. You forced a smile as you undid the first button and slowly turned to him. You unhooked each until the coat fell open and you let it fall down your arms. You quickly swept it up and he took it to hang beside his own.
He faced you and gripped your shoulders as he looked down at you. You shied away as his eyes roved down your body and you took a step back as you crossed your arms.
“They’re a bit tight,” you said.
“You look mighty fine,” he slithered, “look like they fit just nice.”
“Erm,” you rocked on the balls of your feet.
He smiled and knelt to untie his shoes. You unzipped the boots and stepped out of them, stretching your arches as before you brought them flat. You pushed them beside his shoes as his strong cologne tickled your nose.
“Just in here, honey,” he waved you through a doorway, “come on.”
He went back to grab your bag and pointed you in ahead of him as he returned to you. He went to the sofa and dropped the bag on the cushion.
“You can get settled in,” he sidled away from the coffee table, “the radios there,” he gestured to the console table along the wall, “record player too.”
“Thanks, I should be fine,” you neared and sat on the edge of the couch.
“I’ll be through there, in the kitchen,” he peeked over at another door, “you need anything, just holler.”
“I will,” you twined your fingers through each other, “thank you.”
He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lingered on the other side of the table, “you do look nice in that,” he looked you up and down again, “you don’t even need the stockings with how warm it’s gettin’.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled and brought your fingers to tap your lip, “guess I should get started.”
You reached for the flap of your book bag and slid out a heavy textbook. You sensed him watching you before his feet slowly turned away and he strode from the room. You opened the book and flipped through the pages mindlessly.
This house was far enough from the city, far enough that you were stranded, and much of the area was new to you. The realisation made you tremble as you counted the page numbers.
#lee bodecker#dark lee bodecker#dark!lee bodecker#lee bodecker x reader#fic#dark fic#series#laisse tomber les filles#dark!fic#the devil all the time#au#college au
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mending a Broken Heart (Tom Holland x reader, alternative part)
a/n: me? writing? unheard of. jk im tryin to get back into the groove!! this is an alternate version to Mending a Broken Heart, so some parts are the same and some I’ve edited or added some things! hope u enjoy!!
warnings: language, angst, mentions of cheating
please reblog/leave feedback!!
picture not mine!
You had noticed it for months. Tom has been pulling away, spending more time out with the boys than at home with you. His kisses became forced and the words ‘love you’ slowly stopped falling from his lips.
Most days he would leave for work before you woke up and on the rare occasion you were up when he left, he would mumble a ‘goodbye’ before walking out the door. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he would press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Most times, though, he would just leave.
You did your best to keep the love alive, you were still madly in love with him. The wedding band that sat tightly on your ring finger mocked you. A symbol of what was love has turned into one sided love. Hell, you weren’t sure if Tom wore his wedding ring anymore.
A quick glance to his left hand would reveal that he didn’t.
You spent your nights wondering if it was something you did. Were you too clingy when he left to film? Was he just tired of you after four years of marriage? Did he find someone else?
No. You shook your head to yourself one night as you laid in the bed by yourself, the space usually occupied by Tom cold. If he found someone else and if he cheated, that’s on him. Not on you.
Still, the thought plagued your mind. Did he meet someone else? Was she prettier than you? Is that where he was when he said he was out with the boys? Was she able to give him something you couldn’t give him?
The door opening and shutting alerted you that Tom was home. You sighed, knowing it’d be another night of sleeping on opposite sides of the bed.
The door to the bedroom opened and in came Tom, Tessa jumping up to greet him.
“Hey girl, hey love, how are you, hm?” He whispered, petting Tessa as his eyes flickering over to you, who was visibly awake. “Thought you’d be asleep by now. ‘S late.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” You replied simply. “Hey so I was thinking, we haven’t had a date night in a while, maybe you wanted to go out to see the Halloween decorations around town and get dinner tomorrow night?”
“Can’t,” He shook his head as he got ready for bed. “Harrison wants to watch the game. Told him I’d go.”
“Didn’t you just see Harrison tonight?”
“Yeah, and?”
“Nothing.” You sighed, obviously upset. “Nothing, Tom. Goodnight.”
“Night.” He responded, turning out the light and climbing into bed, falling asleep with his back toward you.
-
The next day, you were surprised to see Tom already awake and waiting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea when you got downstairs.
“Good morning.” You smiled softly.
“We need to talk.” He told you. You felt your heart drop and your palms get sweaty, but you wiped them on your pajama pants in an effort to seem totally calm and not panicked.
“A-About what?” You asked, your voice coming out shaky.
“I think,” Tom started. “I think we should get divorced.”
It was then, at 8:30 am that your world came crashing down.
“W-What?” You whimpered out, your voice weaker than before. “Why?”
“I’m not happy with you anymore.” He said simply. Your eyes flickered to his left hand, noticing the absence of the golden wedding band, making your heart ache.
“We can try couples’ therapy. We can go on dates like we used to, Tom, please! We can fight for this, Tom. Fight for us.” You cried, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, each one puncturing your lungs as you struggled to keep your breath under control.
“No,” He shook his head. “My mind is made up. I’m sorry, y/n. Um, I found a lawyer at a firm, they have a lot of other lawyers there you can contact. I’ll just, uh, leave their card here.”
“So that’s it? Three years of dating and four years of marriage down the drain?” You sobbed, holding your knees to your chest as you sat on the kitchen floor.
“I’m sorry, y/n. Truly, I am.”
He placed the small business card on the counter, grabbing the bags you didn’t even notice, mumbling an ‘I’ll be staying with Haz,’ before walking out the front door, like he did every other day. This time, though, you had the sinking feeling he was leaving for good.
-
It was only three weeks that your lawyer came over to meet with you, joined by Tom and his lawyer. You kept your eyes focused on the table as you signed the paperwork, wanting to get this done as soon as possible.
As soon as everyone left, you shut the door, slid down the back of it, and cried.
-
Nearly two months after the worst day of your life and it was time for a self care night. The ring that once sat on your left hand was buried away in your jewelry box somewhere and you were finally starting to feel free and somewhat happy again after crying yourself to sleep and wondering where it all went wrong for months.
After the divorce you buried yourself in work, using it as a distraction from going home to an empty house. You also moved out of the house you once called home. Not only was it too painful to go home to an empty house, but it was too painful to go home to a house that held so many happy and loving memories. You took the necessities along with some things you wanted with you and set yourself up in a hotel room for the time being. You treated it as a vacation. Except only a few people knew where you were. Your family knew, along with your friends, including Harrison, on the condition he didn’t tell Tom where you were. You started making time for yourself in your little hotel room and you became happier.
Tonight, after a long day of work, you ordered your favorite Chinese food, played your favorite songs, and ran yourself a bath with a vanilla scented bath bomb. You were enjoying a glass of wine, the hot water of the bath soothing you when the music playing from your phone was interrupted by a call coming in.
To your surprise, it was Tom. You contemplated answering it, but instead, let it go to voicemail. However, you were curious as to why he called, though you were also 99% positive it was a pocket dial. So you played the voicemail, the familiar voice ringing throughout the bathroom.
“Hey y/n, um, I hope you’re doing well. I just called because I wanted to tell you something. I um, I miss you. A lot. And I know I don’t get to feel that way but I do and I just wanted to tell you that and I guess ask if there was any possibility of meeting to talk? Uh, call me back if...if you want. I don’t blame you if you hate me. Bye. Love y-”
You turned off the voicemail before the phrase could be finished. Millions of thoughts filled your mind, ranging from happy ones to ones that made your heart ache and tears fill your eyes.
You decided to ignore it, pretend it never happened, and enjoy your self care night.
-
When Tom pulled up to his former house with flowers in his car and a pit of nerves in his stomach, he expected to see your car in the driveway and at least one light to be on. He was greeted with an empty driveway and a dark house, which confused him. It was the weekend, so you weren’t work. Maybe you had to run an errand?
But after 20 minutes, he gave up hope that you were home and tried to call you, which to no surprise, you didn’t pick up again. He instead called Harrison in an effort to try and find out if he knew where you were.
“What do you want?” Harrison answered, half concentrating on what Tom was about to say and half concentrating on the game in front of him.
“Do, uh, do you know where y/n is?” Tom asked, taking Harrison by surprise.
“y/n?” Harrison paused the game, suddenly not able to concentrate on it. “Why d’you want to know where y/n is?”
“I just want to talk to her.” He mumbled.
“If I knew that’s where you were going I wouldn’t have let you go.” Harrison sighed. “Listen she made me swear that I wouldn’t tell you-”
“Please Harrison? You’ve seen how much of a mess I’ve been. I just want to see if I have a shot.” Tom begged, making his friend cave.
“Fine but if she moves again I won’t be telling you shit.”
-
The next day you were enjoying a cup of tea and reading your book, getting some relaxation in before your week began when a knock on the door interrupted you. Confusion filled your body, you weren’t expecting anyone to pop by.
Looking out the peephole, you froze at the sight that greeted you. Tom was standing outside your door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands.
“Hi.” He breathed out, his nose and the tips of his ears red from the harsh winter air.
“How the hell did you find me?” You asked, keeping your eyes focused on the ground.
“Harrison. I begged him to tell me.” He answered.
“I’m gonna kill him.” You muttered. “What do you want?”
“Can..Can I come in?” He asked.
You wanted to say no, that he could say what he wanted to say outside or just not let him speak at all. But you wanted to be courteous to the other people on your floor and part of you was curious as to what he was going to say. So you wordlessly opened the door slightly, letting him in and closing the door behind him.
“Now what do you want?”
“Did you get my voicemail?” He responded, hope filling his eyes when you nodded. “Um, I brought these for you. I was hoping we could talk.”
“I don’t want your flowers. Why should I talk to you? We’re divorced, just like you wanted.” Tom winced at the words. “Nothing to change.”
“Actually, we’re not.” He corrected. “I called the office the other day. Um, it’s not official yet.”
“Well then they should make it official. Maybe I can call them and make it happen as my very last Christmas present to you. Just what you wanted.” You snapped.
“No, this isn’t what I want, can I speak, please?” He pleaded, his eyes resembling those of a puppy.
“You’re speaking already.” You answered, gesturing for him to continue nonetheless.
“I- How have you been? I stopped by the house-”
“Tom I’m not gonna listen to your small talk. Say what you have to say and leave.” You told him. His heart broke but he couldn’t blame you.
“Um, so I thought I wasn’t happy with you but um, as time went on, I realized how much I miss having you in my life.” He began, visibly nervous. “I was just looking through our pictures and how happy you looked and I just, I guess I realized I wanted to be the one to make you that happy again.”
“You haven’t made me happy in months, Tom.”
“I know.” His heart clenched. “I know and I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am.”
“Was there someone else? Did you cheat on me?” You asked.
“No, no absolutely not, y/n.” He answered before adding; “I went on a date with someone after we split up but it didn’t work out. I realized she wasn’t what I want.”
“Of course she wasn’t.” You scoffed.
“I want you, y/n. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy again.” He told you, tears filling your eyes. “Is there..is there any possibility you could love me again?”
“Again?” You seethed. “Tom I never fell out of love with you! I never stopped loving you! That was all you! You stopped loving me and you wanted this stupid fucking divorce!”
“I..I don’t think I ever stopped loving you either.” He whispered, tears falling down his rosy cheeks. “Please, y/n, if there’s even the tiniest chance..”
“Of what, Tom? Of going right back to being married? Of you making me happy? I don’t know, Tom! I don’t know anything except that I hate you right now.” You sobbed, crying into your knees while Tom let out quiet sobs of his own, his heart clenching at the lack of wedding band on your left hand and the lack of love in your voice, but especially your eyes. Your eyes, which once held so much love and adoration for him were now full of anger and resentment.
“Of..anything, y/n. Please, I just want a second chance to show you how much you mean to me, to make you happy again. I will do anything to save us, anything you want. And...and if it’s not working or you just really hate me, I wouldn’t blame you. Not at all.” He begged, his eyes puffy and red.
“I tried to save us, Tom. Don’t you remember? I begged and pleaded with you to do couples therapy to go on dates when you were breaking my heart into a million tiny pieces. I begged you to try and fight for us, for our marriage, but you just walked out the god damn door!” You spit through gritted teeth.
“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so badly.” He cried, wiping his tears away.
“And if leaving me wasn’t enough, you took Tessa too! I was left completely alone in that big fucking house that was haunted by you. I couldn’t stand it.” You sobbed.
“I’m..I’m sorry, y/n. So so fucking sorry. What do you want me to do?”
“I want...I want you to hurt. I want you to hurt the way you hurt me. I want you to know how this fucking feels.” You said, your voice getting louder with each word that fell from your lips.
Tom could only cry. This was ripping him apart, he couldn’t even imagine what the whole thing felt like to you.
“I’m gonna need time to think, Tom.” You finally mumbled, Tom nodding in response.
“I’ll give you all the time you need. I promise you-”
“Don’t. Don’t promise me anything.” You spoke, your voice low. “You won’t be able to keep it. You promised you’d love me forever four years ago and look what happened.”
“y/n pl-”
“You don’t get to do this. You-you don’t get to just waltz right back in here and ask for a second chance to fight for us when I didn’t even get a first chance. How do I know this won’t end like it did before?”
“y/n, I swear to you, if this isn’t working out, you can leave me. I...I just want a chance to prove myself to you.” He begged.
“God, Tom. You don’t get it! I’m not going through this again. Do you realize how much you broke me the first time? Fuck, you had a chance, Tom. And you threw it away.” You muttered quietly.
“I regret that every day. Every god damn day.” He told you honestly.
“I don’t know, Tom.” You sighed.
“Talk to me?” He tried, knowing you were hiding something deeper than an ‘I don’t know.’
“Don’t know what else there is to say.” You mumbled. “I don’t trust you, I-I can’t trust you. I hate you.”
“Why’d you get a hotel room?” Tom sniffled, changing the subject.
“I told you. I hated being in that house. Hated being surrounded by the happy pictures and memories of us.” You told him honestly. “I want to start over.”
“What?”
“I want to start over. I can’t go back to being emotionally married to you even if we’ll still be married legally. I’m talking starting from scratch, as if we were meeting for the first time, the whole deal.” You told him.
“That sounds perfect, y/n. Thank y-”
“Get out, Tom. Please. I just want to be alone and not with you right now. I’m still not happy with you.”
“Okay.” He breathed out, hope filling him once again. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”
“What did I just say about promises?” You asked tearily.
“I know, I know. I’m determined to keep this promise, though.” He told you.
“Fine. Whatever. Just please leave for now.” You whimpered, watching as he walked out the door, just like he did when he broke your heart.
You decided you needed another self care night. Another bath was run, another vanilla scented bath bomb was used, more wine was consumed.
Tom texted you right as you got out of the bath.
Tom: hey y/n, it’s tom, just incase you don’t have my number saved anymore. I just wanted to say thank you for the second chance. I really am grateful. I hope you have a relaxing night, you deserve it.
You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone gently on your bed, though you could feel your heart rate pick up and butterflies fill your stomach.
-
Tom began texting you sweet little things each morning, whether it was to let you know that he’s been thinking of you or to tell you that he hopes you have a great day. At first you ignored them, but then you began responding in short answers of one or two words until the two of you were texting every day, like when you met for the first time seven years ago.
-
Over a month after you started texting again, Tom took you on a first date. Pulling up to your hotel, Tom felt the nerves fill his body as he walked up to your door and knocked, another bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.
He felt all the air leave his lungs as you opened the door. You looked absolute stunning. You were wearing a navy blue dress that reached down to just above your knees, one Tom bought you one year.
“Wow, hi.” He breathed. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” You smiled, accepting the flowers he handed you. “I’ll be right back.”
Tom took you to your favorite restaurant that night, one that the two of you frequented when you (formerly) went on dates.
When he took you back to your hotel, he walked you up to the door, where he nervously asked if he could kiss you.
You said yes, and that was all Tom needed to press a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss was magical, both of you felt the sparks between the two of you.
“God I missed doing that.” Tom mumbled as he pulled away to breathe.
“Then do it again.”
-
A couple months after that, Tom moved back in with you. You had gone back to the house every now and then, to slowly acclimate yourself to being back in the once happy house, only fully moving back when Tom moved back as well. The pictures of the two of you were dusted off, making your heart race instead of hurt at the sight of the happy memories.
-
Finally, after a year, Tom proposed to you (again). You hesitated a little bit, still scared it would end in heartbreak again, which broke Tom’s heart, but said you yes in the end.
The two of you renewed your vows, putting on the golden bands that were once again a symbol of the love the two of you shared.
You had a small party back at your house after the ceremony, your families joining to celebrate. You found Tom alone in the kitchen, grabbing a beer for him and Harry.
“Hey.” You greeted, fiddling with your fingers as tears of happiness filled your eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong, my love?” Tom asked, concerned as soon he saw the tears filling your eyes.
“Nothing, nothing. I, um,” You started, wiping your tears away and wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck. “I’m really glad we made it back to this.”
“Me too, lovey. I love you so much.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Hey, Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
“You kept your promise.” You smiled softly, making Tom’s heart ache at the memory of you not being able to trust him.
“I told you I would.”
Your moment was interrupted by Harrison, who entered the kitchen, smiling at his two best friends happily in love once again.
“Aren’t you so glad I told him where you were staying?” He joked, making you roll your eyes.
“Shut up, Harrison.” You smiled. As your eyes flickered between Tom and Harrison, though, you knew you wouldn’t have been in this position if Harrison didn’t spill the beans to Tom.
“Hey Haz?” You called, as Harrison went to leave the kitchen in fake offense. He turned at the sound of his name, knowing what was coming.
“Thank you.” Tom nodded in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist.
Harrison just smiled even bigger, all three of you knowing everything would be okay from now on.
#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland angst#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fic#tom holland imagine#tom holland x fem!reader#tom holland x female!reader
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Touch of Sight - Interlude OP/Ironhide
Ironhide turned over the cracked barrel. There was no mending it but that did not mean the blaster itself was scrap. The forge smouldered in preparation for his work. In his life, the reliability of his weapon had given him the edge and spared him Mortilus’ embrace. A soldier put their life in the servos of the gunsmith or swordsmith. Most guns and blades were mass produced these ‘cycles, with the smiths working row on row alongside each other. Mostly, they did good work but sometimes, scrap got passed tired optics and not being the trusting sort, Ironhide preferred to forge his own. He had forged his own weapons since he had been a scraggly youngling, learning at the side of his progenitor.
It was hard work, but satisfying. He hummed a bawdy song as he heated the indestructium block until it glowed before carrying it over to his anvil and. Taking up a heavy hammer, Ironhide set to work flattening the block some. Back and forth Ironhide headed the indestructium and hammered it thinner and thinner. When it was the thickness he wanted, he latched his form to the anvil and hammered the molten metal in the round groove. Of to the forge and back to the anvil, Ironhide hummed as he worked. A mandrel he inserted in the beginnings of the barrel prevented it from collapsing as he hammered and helped it form its specific shape. Ironhide did not notice the condensation that dripped from his frame as he hammered the cylinder closed. When he was satisfied, Ironhide quenched the hot metal. It was all he had time for, at the moment. As he reached across his work bench for a working blaster, Ironhide heard a satisfied rumble and looked over his shoulder.
“Don’t mind, me,” Optimus said. “I was just enjoying the view.”
“The view of my aft?” Ironhide asked.
“And your shoulders,” Optimus replied.
“My shoulders?” Ironhide chuckled. “That’s a new one.”
“Strong shoulders,” Optimus declared. His voice thickened and Ironhide’s internals tightened. “On a strong mech.”
“Mm,” Ironhide hummed. It was not empty praise, he was a strong mech. “Ain’t ya ‘sposed to be gettin’ polished up for the banquet.”
“I thought I’d bathe first,” Optimus replied. “And I thought you should join me.”
“Should I?” Ironhide grinned. “I dunno, Prime. Might make ya run late.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Of course, if Ironhide had wanted to, he could play hard to get, but he had never seen the point in processor games. He walked with Optimus to the Prime’s private chambers. The palace had large baths for the fair use of all, only Optimus’ chambers were large enough for private baths. Ironhide was not sorry at all to take advantage. Some unseen servant had come and gone already and both the solvent and oil baths were bubbly away. There were no crystals burning and no fancy potions stinking up the place. Optimus, Prime or not, was not a grand mech. Though he could have any perfume or scented oils he wanted, he claimed to prefer a mechanism’s natural scent. He had said this with his face buried in Ironhide’s neck and so Ironhide was inclined to believe he. In any case, he preferred his solvent and oil hot and that was really it. If Optimus wanted a perfumed beauty, that mech would not be Ironhide.
There was no preamble. Optimus climbed into the bath and immediately lifted Ironhide into his lap as soon as they had stripped off their armour. Neither of them were mechs who played fussy games. Ironhide moaned as Prime’s digits pressed deep into his valve; Optimus had a way about him, a way with him and Ironhide bowed his back as Optimus mouth at his neck and shoulders as he fondled his wells. He bucked his hips, fragging himself on the Prime’s long, thick digits. Sometimes, Optimus drove him crazy, slowly opening him up one digit at a time but there was no time for erotic torture and Ironhide groaned as Optimus rubbed his anterior node with the heel of his palm as he stuffed Ironhide with four digits at once. It did not matter how many times they did this, the stretch always stole Ironhide’s intakes and it was only the beginning. Maybe it was that knowledge, that there was an even greater stretch to come, was what sent Ironhide tumbling over the edge and overloading with a gravelly curse.
Overloading made him pliant, exactly what Optimus was after and those long digits pulled out of Ironhide’s valve and he was lifted just a little ways up. A moment later, Ironhide felt the tip of Prime’s spike against his valve rim and he moaned in anticipation. The architects who had designed the Prime’s frame had been more than a little generous when they had laid out the schematics for his spike. Ironhide trembled as his valve lubricate that much more as Optimus tugged him down. It was not just as broad as a fist but as broad as the Prime’s fist and the mech had big servos. Ironhide grunted as it breached him and his legs went weak. He did not have to worry about that as Optimus’ held his hips. Primus, it was such a stretch. Just a bite of pain that made the blistering pleasure more maddening, more addicting. Even as warnings flashed in his HUD, Ironhide did not worry; he knew he could take ever last micrometre.
He could not help but groan as Optimus lifted him up and tugged him down, working more and more of his godly spike into Ironhide’s greedy valve. Greedy, because Ironhide wanted every micrometre, he wanted the burning, biting stretch. Optimus was attracted to his strength, Ironhide knew this. His strength meant he could take Optimus’ spike without breaking. Not without crying, at times, but it was the pleasure that had tears burst from Ironhide’s optics. Before Optimus, Ironhide specifically sought out lovers with large spikes. None could compare to the Prime, not just the size but the power. Once Optimus got going the power of the primes was unleashed and a weak mechanism could not have survived it but Ironhide was not a weak mech.
Apparently, there was a little time to tease as Optimus fragged him with just about half of his spike, drilling Ironhide’s ceiling node until the Master of Arms writhed and groaned, overloading again. Steam poured from his vents as Optimus fragged him through that overload, shifting Ironhide in his servos and pulling him down. There was no denying Ironhide screamed as charge arced over his frame. Solvent splashed from the bubbling bath as Optimus lodged his great spike in Ironhide’s gestational tank and Ironhide’s aft struck his array. From experience, Ironhide knew the outline of the Prime’s spike was visible in his belly. Still, Optimus brought the knowledge clear to home as he rubbed his own spike through Ironhide protoform. Ironhide was sure he could not fit another fraction of a centimetre but he did not need to. He had taken all that Optimus had to give him.
“Frag, frag, frag,” Ironhide groaned as his valve rippled helplessly. It hurt so good. “Oh frag me.”
“Are you sure?” Optimus asked, voice thick with restraint. Growling, Ironhide clenched his valve down tight.
“Ya know I won’t break,” Ironhide groused. “Frag me like ya mean it.”
Optimus obeyed and Ironhide cried out as he was raised up so only the tip of that thickest of spikes remained and then he was pulled down. Solvent splashed. It was not enough to fully mute the great clang. Though Optimus could be tender, and occasionally it suited Ironhide for him to be, as attracted as Optimus was by Ironhide’s strength, Ironhide was attracted to the Prime’s just as much. For the most part, Ironhide had no patience for delicacy, he wanted it big and he wanted it hard and fast and that was what Optimus gave him. Another mech might crack a strut but Ironhide had weathered the fall of the Golden Age and he was sturdy to the core. He overloaded squealing like a stuck proto-pig and calling out for more, for harder and Optimus gave him everything he asked for.
“Gimme it all,” Ironhide demanded as he felt Optimus’ pace become more erratic. Optimus held his frame flush as he overloaded, flooding Ironhide’s tank with transfluids. It was enough to make Ironhide overload a final time. There was no seeing the perfect shape of Prime’s spike in his protoform now, not with the way his transfluids rounded out Ironhide’s protoform. He did not need to worry about awkward questions, his arm would hide all trace of their affair.
“It’s a shame,” Optimus sighed as he cupped Ironhide’s heaving wells with his servos. “About the banquet. I could spent all dark-cycle like this.”
“Ultra Magnus would have cyber-kittens,” Ironhide chortled. His well-used valve fluttered around the Prime’s spike as it depressurized. It still felt so big. “Especially since y’re ‘sposed to be receivin’ Elita One ‘n her retinue.”
“Ultra Magnus is busy with an errant priest,” Optimus replied. “I don’t think Elita would be so angry if we were fashionably late.”
All Ironhide could do was groan as he felt Optimus’ spike stiffen as the Prime thumbed his nozzles. Ultra Magnus had best be busy with the priest because Ironhide was not about to tell Optimus to stop.
#valveplug#tf optimus prime#tf ironhide#rarepair#maccadams#anon-e-miss writes#a touch of sight#optimus is a naughty prime
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
pretty little liar
Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader
Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.
Genre: College!AU
Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing
Word Count: 4,867
A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️
The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.
You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.
And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.
“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”
Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”
You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”
She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”
“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”
He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.
Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.
“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”
“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”
Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”
With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”
Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”
You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”
Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”
Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”
“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”
Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.
The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.
And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.
Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.
For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?
Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.
You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.
Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…
If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.
Heh.
Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.
“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”
“Um…”
She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”
“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.
Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.
And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.
“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.
“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”
“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”
It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”
You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”
He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”
“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”
“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”
Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”
You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.
Tequila’s kicking in…
Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”
Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”
This bitch.
Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”
Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.
And then he spoke.
“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”
That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”
His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”
Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”
Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”
Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”
“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.
You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?
Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.
Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.
The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.
It made you feel powerful.
You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.
“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.
He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.
You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.
With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.
“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”
“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.
Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.
He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.
Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.
Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”
“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.
You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.
A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.
When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.
“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”
The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.
All you could do was try to give as good as you got.
You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.
And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”
Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”
He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”
With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.
You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.
“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”
Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.
Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.
“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”
You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.
Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.
After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.
Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”
You fixed your dress. “Sure.”
“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”
Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”
He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”
It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”
“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”
“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”
Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”
That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”
He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”
You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”
Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”
You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”
The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.
#wayv ten#ten imagines#wayv smut#ten scenarios#ten x reader#ten smut#nct scenarios#ten oneshot#wayv imagines#woc reader#wayv ten imagines#ten lee#wayv au#nct au
219 notes
·
View notes
Text
Getting Our Groove On
SECOND STORY OUT OF 4 LET’S GOOOOOO. I was Listening to a playlist called french songs that bang when writing this lol I don’t know why I thought at was necessary to add but oh well, have fun reading <3 This is honestly so short I am so sorry.
Summary: Dance Party In the kitchen at 3 am? Yes please.
You were often awake late a night
It lead to a lot of interesting encounters with the rest of the team but you enjoyed all of them
“Hey bird man” you whispered as you slowly made your way into the kitchen, your feet dragging behind you making you look like a zombie. “Evening sleepyhead, can’t sleep?” he replied looking back at you from his place at the window where he had been staring at the night owls of the city drive past in their cars or walk down the street, it was funny how small they looked from this high up. “What gave it away,” you joked “another nightmare?” you questioned as you made your way to the fridge grabbing a glass as you went, “how could you tell” he repeated back to you. There was an unspoken rule that unless he openly expressed the want to talk about the thoughts that caused havoc to his sleep schedule then you wouldn’t ask instead distract him in whatever way you could think of. “Do you think that raccoons get self conscious?” you spoke, sipping the milk you had got yourself, handing him a glass as well. “Thanks and I can’t say I have thought about it before” he said, sending a questioning look your way, trying to figure out where you were going to take this “but like if one had a longer tail do you think the popular raccoons talk shit about it?”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You watched silently from the couch as Wanda glided around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients needed to make hot chocolate, humming as she went. The wiggly woo woman tended to hum when she was sad and like Sam she had a different way of communicating what she needed. It had taken you a while but you had figured out what it was: when she made brownies she was angry, when it was cookies she was missing someone and when it was hot chocolate she was sad and needed a hug. So as she handed you the marshmallow topped mug and sat down on the empty space next to you, you snuggled into her side, looked up at her and smiled “you are so loved and cared for, you know that right?”
Everyone had different needs so late at night (or early in the morning depending on what way you wanted to look at it)
Everyone was up for different reasons, most being nightmares or the fear of drifting off so far into the clutches of sleep that they would never wake up or the rare occasion they just couldn’t sleep
As the towers resident insomniac you made sure to care for and tend to them when they were up in any way you could
It was rare that everyone was up at the same time however when someone decides to play music a bit too loud that tends change
You jumped around the kitchen, arms flailing about in an attempt to dance and let your worries go. You had always loved the way music could make you feel but never dared to play it so loud at so late in case you woke up the others. Tonight though all worry of disturbing people went out the window as your legs moved on their own to the music and laughter slipped past your lips as you tripped yourself up and fell onto the floor. To anyone else you would seem drunk but to Steve, Nat, Loki and Bucky who had all woken up due to the racket you were making you just seemed carefree and happy. “Come on Doll you can do better than that” Bucky chuckled tiredly as you jumped at the sudden interruption to your late night rave, “oh my gosh I am so sorry I didn’t wake you up did I?” you spoke quickly, hands waving in an attempt to express your concern and surprise. “You did but now we’re up let’s teach you how to dance” Steve joked as you turned red at the thought of them watching you jump around, walking towards you as Nat changed the playlist to party songs, the Macarena turning on straight away. “Oh god here we go is everyone ready?” you giggled as you all got into a line (even if Loki was adamant that he didn’t know this song or it’s dance). As you got lost in a sea of laughter and music you had failed to realise that the rest of the team had gathered at the shore line of your party, waiting and watching in amusement (Tony was 100% not at all filming this). You spun the music getting ready to start again as you saw the remaining few of your teammates beckoning for them to the party, who were they to refuse?
So as the songs changed from YMCA to 500 miles and Mr Bright side you learnt more and more about your teammates
Like how Loki knows all of the cringe party songs
Nat has an angelic voice
Vision and Bruce can dance?
Even 100 year old super soldiers know the lyrics to Hey there Delilah
And Thor cannot for the life of him dance but enjoys it anyway
That's why no matter how many expensive holidays you go on or how many late night trips to the shops you go on
Dancing with the avengers at 3 am will always be your favourite thing to do
#the avengers#avengers x platonic reader#avengers x teen!reader#avengers x reader#avengers imagine#avengers crack#sam wilson x teen!reader#loki x teen!reader#steve x teen!reader#bucky x teen!reader#tony x teen!reader#vision x y/n#wanda x teen!reader#bruce banner x teen!reader#nat x teen!reader#natasha romanoff x teen!reader
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
The R Drug part 2
A/N: I promise I still have summer bingo fics ready to go, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is. This is a part 2 to The R Drug, and is a lot of talking and exposition, and a lot of Sonny hating himself. This will most likely get a part 3. No chapter will ever be darkfic or as dark as the first one was. It’s only up from here.
Tags: self-loathing, mentions of rape (like, one line--references first fic heavily) and therapy, otherwise none, just a lot of angst with a maybe happy ending?
Words: 4657
Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31
For the first few days, you sat on the couch in pain and exhaustion, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. The doctor said that you were severely dehydrated and had kept both you and Sonny overnight after the club, though separated. Olivia and Amanda interviewed you, while Fin interviewed Sonny. You were both then sent on leave until you could come back to work…if you could come back at all.
Thankfully, you weren’t pregnant. But you were sore, every movement causing aches and pains as you shuffled around your apartment. Obviously, you weren’t pressing charges, and neither was Sonny; what happened was a freak accident, something you never wanted to think about again, but knew you’d have to in order to move past it.
When you could finally walk normally again, you went to a therapist. It took a while to find a groove; therapists specializing in rape victims had trouble dealing with the fact that while yes, you were a victim, you were also a perpetrator. The other strange thing was that you weren’t angry with Sonny; you were angry with yourself. You assaulted him, just as he assaulted you. And that was the part that was eating you up inside.
It took months of therapy, going every day and working through your confused and frustrated emotions before you finally came to terms with what had happened. You were ready to put your badge and gun back on, ready to move on with your life. You missed your job, your squad. But most of all, you missed Sonny. He was your best friend before all of this happened, and you hadn’t seen nor talked to him since the club. You missed his boyish charm, his bright smile and his loud laugh. You missed the little inside jokes you had together, and the late nights spent curled on the couch, watching reality TV and sports. You missed your Sonny.
**********************
On Monday morning, four months after the club incident, you made your way into the familiar precinct. You were heading for Olivia’s office when you stopped short. Both Amanda and Fin were at their desks like normal. Even your desk was how you left it; a few photos, baskets to hold paperwork, little knick-knacks that made it yours. But Sonny’s desk, the one next to yours, was completely different. There wasn’t a single photo of any Carisi, no Mets or Islanders memorabilia, no nothing that made it his. Instead, there was a picture of two men, one you didn’t recognize posing with…Deputy Chief Dodds?
Before you could ask questions, Amanda said, “that’s Mike Dodds’s desk. He’s the new Sergeant.”
“Where’s Carisi’s desk,” you asked, turning to look at her.
But it was Fin who answered. “He doesn’t have one.” You swore you got whiplash turning to look at Fin so quickly. “He turned in his badge and gun months ago…just after the club fiasco.”
“What?” you almost yelled. You were loud enough that Olivia heard you, and she and the new guy—Mike?—came out of her office. She beckoned you to her office, and you passed by Mike, who tried to give you a smile that you did not return.
“Welcome back—” Olivia started before you cut her off.
“Carisi’s gone?!”
She closed the door behind you before taking a seat at her desk. She motioned for you to sit, and you all but collapsed into the chair. “I tried to keep him, to talk him out of quitting. But he refused, saying he needed to work through things. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do.”
You stared in disbelief at the top of her desk. Sonny was gone. You had to talk to him, had to see him. You said as much to Liv.
“If you think you can get through to him, then by all means. Because it’s been hard around here not having two of my best detectives,” she replied. “Dodds has been a godsend, but he doesn’t replace either of you, and especially not both of you.”
You nodded. “I’ll talk to him, try and bring him back.”
“I wish you luck. I think he’ll listen to you; you were close before…all this.”
**********************
After leaving the precinct, you tried texting and calling Sonny, but to no avail. In fact, it was going straight to voicemail, as if his phone were dead or off. So, you swung by his apartment. You buzzed his place, but a deep, gruff man answered.
“I just moved in a few months ago; the previous owner seemed to be in a hurry to move out,” he said. Clinging to the hope that this was still Sonny just trying to put on a fake accent, you buzzed a neighbor. But they confirmed that Sonny had moved out a couple months ago, and that a new tenant moved in.
Out of desperation, you tracked down a phone book, and looked up his parent’s place. Then you took the drive out to Staten Island. You shifted nervously on the porch, waiting for an answer after knocking.
A woman in her 60s, who could only be Mrs. Carisi, answered. Her eyes darted to your waistband, the badge there, then back to yours. You watched them slowly fill with tears.
“Please, don’t tell me yet,” she muttered, and you furrowed your brow. “Don’t tell me my Bambino is…is…” she hiccupped, and you understood; she thought you were here to deliver the news that Sonny was dead.
“No, no! I’m actually…I’m Carisi’s partner…or I was. I’m just…having a hell of a time tracking him down,” you quickly explained.
She sniffled, trying to compose herself. “Well, I hope you do find him.”
“You mean…you don’t know where he is?” you asked, heart sinking.
She shook her head. “He told us he needed some time, and that he’d be in touch. That was the last we saw or heard from him, and that was back in March.” It was June now, and you were realizing that this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.
You nodded, muttering out an apology for bothering her as you turned away, but she grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Please, if you find Sonny, tell him we love him. And that we want him to come home.”
“Of course,” you replied before leaving, holding back tears until you were back in your car.
****************
Your first real clue as to where Sonny went came through looking at his bank statements. There, you found a one-way trip to Genoa, Italy. Without too much thought behind it, you booked a flight, texted Olivia your intentions, then headed to the airport. In your hurry, you didn’t pack, didn’t even book a place to stay. You only had one thing on your mind, and it was to find Sonny Carisi.
With the clothes on your back, your phone, passport, and wallet full of bills that you converted to euros, you got on the one-way trip to Genoa.
***************
You barely slept on the plane, landing early in the morning. The sun was just peaking over the beautiful Italian landscape. Even in your exhaustion and worry, you had to stop and appreciate the architecture of a different country. Genoa was beautiful, and you’d be enjoying yourself if the drive to find your missing partner wasn’t so high. You had a picture of him on your phone, and you went around, asking everyone you passed by if they had seen him. At first, you were asking in English—you didn’t know Italian. But eventually, you learned the phrases you needed.
“L'hai visto?” you asked desperately.
You understood “no,” and saw the look of sadness on their faces.
“Grazie,” you replied, moving on.
You must’ve asked hundreds of people. The sun was high in the sky, and you felt a hopelessness in your fruitless search. Why did you ever think you’d find him? There was a good chance he wasn’t even in Genoa anymore; he could’ve landed and moved somewhere more isolated. You had nothing to go on, and your voice and face took on a pleading, desperate tone. You must’ve looked like an unhinged person, asking the same question over and over again while pointing frantically to your phone screen.
Another thought came to you in the form of a growling stomach. You hadn’t eaten, hadn’t had so much as a sip of water since you got off the plane. Which then led you to think about what you were going to do once the sun went down. You didn’t have a whole lot of money on you, and you didn’t know how much anything cost.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you muttered to yourself in frustrated hopelessness. You sat down hard on a bench, cursing yourself for not thinking this through better.
A woman came over to you; she looked somewhat familiar. You must’ve talked to her before. But she started speaking rapid Italian to you. You gave her a puzzled look, brow furrowed. You tried to express that you didn’t speak Italian, and she stopped, her face contorted as she thought.
“Man,” she said in slow, pronounced English. She pointed to her left. “Man...you want?”
You followed her finger and froze when you saw the tall, lanky frame of Sonny through a shop window. You jumped to your feet, shouting a “thank you!” to her as you ran on tired legs to the shop. Sonny was just paying for groceries, and was heading out of the shop when you reached him.
His eyes widened as he saw you, guilt flooding his eyes. “...[y/n]?” he asked. “What’re you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” you replied, grinning. “I thought I’d never find you.”
He gave you a hard look. “I wish you didn’t,” he muttered before turning to leave.
You stared in disbelief as he walked down the street, bag in his arms. Snapping yourself out of it, you hurried after him. “Carisi, what are you doing here in Italy?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, not breaking in his stride. You struggled to keep up with his long legs, your body and mind exhausted. “I’m trying to start over, away from my past.”
You pushed yourself to get in front of him, cutting him off. “You can’t just—just run away.... Don’t I...don’t we mean anything to you? The squad, your family—”
“Of course you do,” he replied, eyes softening for a moment. “That’s why I left.”
You looked at him, eyes pleading. “Look, Dom, I know what happened was...traumatic. But—”
“I’m not talking about that. Not now, not ever.” And then he was walking again, easily stepping around you. “Please, just go home,” he called over his shoulder to you.
You watched him retreat for a moment before heading after him again. “Dominick, you need to talk about it, if not to me, than to someone else. But you can’t bury it down, move on like nothing ever happened.”
Sonny whipped around to glare at you, face hard. “Like nothing ever happened? You think that’s what I’m doing?” He shook his head, huffing. “I’ll never stop thinking about it! This will haunt me to my grave! And when I’m burning in Hell, I’ll know why.”
It broke your heart to see him like this. “Please, listen to me. You need to work through this. It took me months to come to terms with my actions, and I know you can do it, too.”
“I’m too disgusted with myself,” he replied, shaking his head. “I hate myself too much for what I did to you.”
He tried to turn away again, but you grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. He flinched at the contact, pulling away from your touch, and you let your hand fall. “I hated me, too. Still do sometimes. But it wasn’t our fault; we were drugged. There was nothing we could do—”
“I could’ve fought it. I could’ve controlled myself.”
“And what, I couldn’t?” you shot back. Sonny’s eyes widened at your outburst. “If you hate yourself so much, then you must hate me, too. I did the same thing you did.”
He was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning yours. “I could never hate you.”
“Then why are you so hellbent on hating yourself, but not me?”
“Because I...” he trailed off, thinking through his words. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but instead he whispered, “I don’t know.”
You moved closer to him. “Then please, let me help you.” You didn’t make the mistake of touching him again, instead just gazing deeply into his eyes.
Sonny sighed heavily, regripping the bag in his arms. “Yeah, okay. But...let me sleep on it, first?” He saw the skeptical look you gave him, and he quickly added, “I promise I won’t run away again. I just...I need time to process things. Where are you staying? I can swing by in the morning.”
“Uhh...” you said, looking at the ground.
“...please tell me you have a place to stay.”
You shifted uncomfortably. “I was going to try and find a place, soon?” you tried.
You could see the inner struggle he had as he fought himself. “I could...you could stay with me, if you want.... That is, if you feel safe with me...if you can trust me.”
“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” you said softly.
His eyes widened for a moment. “Yeah...okay. Follow me.”
****************
Sonny lived in a small apartment. Though it was a little smaller than his place in Manhattan, it was absolutely stunning, the view from his window gorgeous. It was simply furnished, yet it still somehow felt like...Sonny. He put his grocery bag down on the little counter that acted like an island in a kitchen. In reality, it was just a piece that separated the kitchen from the living room.
“Have you eaten?” he asked as he put his things away.
You stomach grumbled loudly in response. “Uh, no,” you muttered, embarrassed.
Sonny gave you a look. “So, let me get this straight. I can tell by your no luggage or place to stay that you just flew to Genoa with absolutely no backup plan? What if you didn’t find me? What if I went to Vernazza or something?”
You smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t in the best state of mind, okay? I was worried about you; no one had heard from you, not even your parents. And your phone just went to voicemail.”
He sighed. “I left my phone in New York; I didn’t want it. Maybe I also wasn’t in the best state of mind when I left.”
You dug your phone out of your pocket; you only had 10% left on it. You unlocked it, then shoved it towards him. “You need to call your parents. Your mom is heartbroken, and asked me to tell you that she loves you. But I think it would be better coming from her directly to you.”
Tears filled his eyes as he took your phone from you. “If I do, then it’ll kill your phone battery. There’s no way the call would be less than five hours long.”
“Call them,” you urged. You could buy a phone charger in the morning. Sonny sighed, dialing the number. “I’ll give you some privacy,” you whispered, heading outside. You heard a soft, “hey ma; it’s me,” before you closed the front door behind you.
You were so relieved to have found Sonny. Sure, he was still broken and hurt, but you knew you could help him find himself, pull himself back from the darkness in his mind. You just didn’t know how long it would take, how long you’d be in Italy for. You didn’t want to rush him, couldn’t rush him if you tried. And you knew a lot of this would be an internal battle, something you knew intimately well based on your own experience. In the end, he’d have to find the strength to forgive himself on his own before he could move on. You sighed, looking up into the dark clouds above you, the muggy heat making your skin sticky.
*********************
Sonny came and got you about an hour later. His eyes were rimmed red, but it seemed as though a weight had lifted off him as he handed back your now dead phone.
“Sorry; I can buy you a charger in the morning,” he muttered, leading you back inside.
You shook your head, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about it.”
You both ate dinner in silence; Sonny was pensive, thinking, while you were starving and shoveling the delicious food into your mouth. Once you finished—your huge bites compared to his little nibbles had you finishing in record time—you took your dishes to the kitchen and started cleaning them.
“I can do that—” Sonny started before you cut him off.
“It’s fine; you cook, I clean.” It was your rule back in Manhattan, and Sonny smiled softly at the memories of you both in his kitchen.
“Look, Sonny, I know you said you don’t want to talk—and that’s fine! But, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here, willing to listen,” you said. You scrubbed at your plate with the sponge, forcing yourself to not turn and look at him.
He sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. You resolutely stayed facing the sink, washing a now clean dish, waiting for a response that may not come.
“I...I know it was R. I know it was. But I just...I can’t stop the self-loathing I feel,” he said so quietly, you barely heard him over the water in the sink.
Slowly, you turned the water off, then turned to face him. “I know. It took me months to not hate myself. To not blame myself.”
Sonny took a deep breath, then rubbed his eyes. “I never asked; how are you?”
You knew he didn’t mean in general. “I was very sore and exhausted the first week. I was stuck in a downward spiral. But the thing about hitting rock bottom is that you can only go up.” You sighed. “I’m doing better. I doubt I’ll ever be 100% me again. But I’m working every day to get closer.”
He nodded, thinking. “See, I feel like I hit rock bottom, then grabbed a shovel. I’m still fighting to get back to rock bottom.”
“Well, just know that I do not blame you in any way. All the anger and hatred I felt was directed at myself,” you huffed out an emotionless chuckle. “In fact, you hardly came up in my therapy sessions at all. Just that I hated myself for doing that to you.”
Sonny stood then, bringing his own dishes into the kitchen. “I never blamed you, either; still don’t. I—I guess because I’m bigger and because I was...on top, I blame myself instead. I didn’t even consider the fact that you got drugged, too....”
“That’s the thing; I know you. And I know myself. Neither of us...that wouldn’t have happened without outside forces making us do it. Like I said, I trust you with my life, Sonny. And while I understand why you turned your badge in, I really would like my partner back one day,” you said, hope tinging your voice.
He reached past you to put his plate in the sink, and you gazed up at him. This was the closest you’ve been since that night in the club, his face inches from yours, bright blue eyes boring into your own. For a moment, it was like nothing had happened. You could pretend that you were in Sonny’s Manhattan apartment, having just finished dinner he made, Love Island playing on his TV. But then reality set in, and Sonny backed away from you, a look of guilt in his eyes.
“M—maybe one day. But I’m not sure I want to go back to that line of work yet,” he muttered, looking at the floor.
You nodded. “I understand—” you were cut off by a loud clap of thunder, sounding directly above you. You dropped the plate you were rinsing off into the sink, the clatter loud in the shocked silence.
Sonny looked from the ceiling to you, saw your petrified look. He knew you hated storms, would often get a call at 1am from you, asking to come over when a thunderstorm rolled in. When he saw you on the streets of Genoa, he didn’t connect that Italy had some of the most intense thunderstorms in the world.
“Hey, it’s okay; I’m here,” he murmured out of instinct; the words he would say back home to you.
You were trembling, tears in your eyes. “S-Sonny, I—”
Another loud rumbling resounded through the apartment, and he saw you shrink in on yourself, slowly dropping to the floor, curling around your legs. You tucked your face against your knees, shaking with quiet sobs. He came over to you, kneeling in front of you. Normally, he’d wrap you tightly in his arms, whispering to you that you were safe. But now, he was afraid to touch you.
“Dominick, I trust you with my life,” he remembered you saying, with no hesitation. Swallowing the thoughts propelled by self-loathing, he placed a hand on your shoulder. He knew he wouldn’t assault you, wouldn’t do anything without your consent, so why the hell was he hesitating when you needed him?
“Come on; let’s get you into bed, okay?” Sonny whispered to you. You nodded without looking up. Gently, he unfolded your limbs, helping you to your feet. He had been planning to sleep on the couch, give you his bed. Now, though, he was leading you to his bedroom quickly, trying to make it before more thunder sounded.
He got you into his bed just as another clap of thunder shook the walls. You pulled the covers over your head, tucking down as hard as possible into the bed. Sonny climbed into bed next to you, laying on top of the covers. Gently, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you back against him. He could feel you trembling, the whole bed shaking. What else could he do besides what he normally did?
“It’s okay; you’re safe. I got you,” he whispered, rubbing your arm over the blanket. You rolled over until you were facing him, and curled in against his chest. Sonny stiffened for only a moment before relaxing in the familiar position.
“I hate storms,” you choked out, tucking your face into his shirt.
He rubbed your back in comfort. “I know you do. It’ll be gone soon enough.”
But unlike Manhattan, where that may be true, thunderstorms in Genoa lasted hours. Simply because you didn’t sleep the night before, you were able to drift off in Sonny’s embrace. You’d jerk awake every time a clap of thunder was heard, though, shaking and sobbing softly as he murmured sweet words to you before succumbing to sleep again.
Sonny, however, didn’t sleep a wink. He was too lost in thought, holding you to him. You trusted him enough to sleep in the same bed, his arms around you, even after everything that happened. You didn’t blame him, felt no hatred towards him. And while most of his problem stemmed from his own self-hatred, he was always afraid that you felt the same way about him. And he couldn’t deal with that, couldn’t stand it. Not when he—
He almost said it out on the street earlier, when you asked him if he hated you. He almost told you that he loved you, had come so close. In fact, he was planning on asking you out after work that day. The day that changed his life forever, and not in the way he had been hoping. If only Liv hadn’t called you both into her office that day, then maybe there would still be a chance....
But he could never tell you, not now. How would you even begin a relationship after this? He was too afraid to even touch you, for Christ’s sake. Though, that was before the thunderstorm started. Now, you were curled against his chest, your trembling stopped for the moment, breathing deep as you slept. His arms were around you, and god he loved it, loved the feeling of you sleeping in his arms, whether from a storm or not. This wasn’t the first time he held you throughout the night, and he loved it every time, regardless of circumstances. But how could anything evolve from this? How could he kiss you? How could you be...intimate together without the memory of the club popping up in either of your minds?
A small part of him whispered that if he could get over his fear of touching you—evident by the cuddling—then he could overcome his other fears, too. But would you want that? Did he?.... Yes, yes he wanted that very much. He wanted to be able to love you without fear and/or guilt in his heart. Before the club, he had thought that his biggest obstacle would be 1PP. Oh how ignorant he had been.
He resolved that he wouldn’t tell you, not now, maybe not ever. He couldn’t, not when this darkness was still inside his head, not when his hatred for himself was so high—
Thunder rolled out, and you jumped, instantly waking. The trembling started again, and you grabbed Sonny’s shirt, pulling him closer to you.
“I got you. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispered to you.
But for the first time ever, you responded. “You make me feel safe, Dom,” you muttered back.
At first, he was filled with such a profound warmth and happiness, feeling protective and strong. But then a flash of your face, beet red, your body moving erratically underneath his while loud club music played, and he sunk in on himself. He felt like such an asshole, such a coward, holding you like this. He should’ve left you on the streets in Genoa, closed himself off. Or at least offer to put you up in a hotel or a hostile, not fucking take you home with him. He hated that side of him that couldn’t let you go, almost as much as the hatred of that night in the club.
“What’s wrong?” you asked suddenly. You were still shaking in his grasp, but you noticed he was deep in thought. He had stopped talking, and was humming slightly. Sonny only hummed when he was thinking hard. He didn’t respond right away, unsure of what he’d even say. So, you pressed on, “need me to comfort you?”
Sonny’s expression softened. Here you were, scared out of your mind, but still offering him help. This is one of the main reasons he loved you. “No, I’m fine. Just sleep, okay?” he murmured.
Without thinking about it, he brushed his lips against your forehead, giving you a gentle kiss. You smiled at the gesture, tucking your head against his chest again, quickly finding sleep once more.
But Sonny was silently cursing himself. Why the hell did you kiss her?! he thought in anguish. In truth, he didn’t think, just reacted. He often kissed your forehead in comfort, trying to coax you to sleep. It seemed as if when he turned his brain off, he could rely on instinct, doing things he normally did. But that nagging side of his brain never left him alone for long. Things he used to do that brought him joy, like holding you or kissing your soft skin, now filled him with regret. How was he supposed to move on and leave you behind in New York when he did shit like this?
He sighed, glancing at his clock and seeing that it was only a little past 1am. This was going to be a long night. And he still wasn’t sure what to say to you in the morning.
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Still Breathing: Chapter 4
Summary: AU | When a case goes sideways, Hailey wakes up in the hospital with a revelation that leaves her evaluating her life. While she recovers at Med, she meets Jay, an aloof, yet intriguing patient that catches her by surprise. The two get to know one another as they take on the task of rediscovering what it’s like to truly live, and eventually learn their lives intersect in more ways than one.
Writer’s Note: Hello all! I hope you are enjoying this story so far! I don't have much to say other than I so appreciate the kind comments I've gotten thus far! I really enjoy the feedback and discord after posting a chapter, so keep it coming - I love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!!
Read on AO3 or below
A glow of sunlight filtering in through her curtains pulled Hailey out of a deep sleep the next morning. As her eyes fluttered open, part of her was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For it to be just another dream that would morph into a nightmare and leave her waking with tacky, sweat-covered skin and an irregular pulse. It took her a moment, but she eventually realized it wasn’t another dream. She was awake, and she had just slept fully through the night, unobstructed by her haunting memories. A naive thought credited it to Jay’s text from the night before, but the cynic in her figured it was just her many nights of restlessness finally catching up with her. Whatever it was, she was glad for that one night of freedom. It wasn’t enough to convince her the nightmares were gone completely, but she was willing to take what she could get.
When she checked the clock on her bedside table, it read 15 minutes before her alarm was due to go off. She climbed out of bed then, figuring she could use the extra time with how much longer getting ready took with one arm still out of commission. Showering was a hassle, doing her hair was nearly impossible, and getting dressed required a specific strategy she hadn’t quite perfected yet. By the time she had gathered the last of her things to stuff into her duffle, it was time to go.
The final thing she did was pull her sidearm from the safe in her bedroom and secure it in the side of the bag. She found it strange to wear her star without her weapon. It left a misplaced feeling in the back of her mind like she was forgetting something, but it was a feeling she knew she’d have to get used to over the next few weeks.
As unexciting as desk duty sounded, she was glad in a way that she’d be able to ease back into things. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but after everything that happened, the thought of going into the field was unsettling. Physically she was feeling 100%, with exception of her arm still being in a sling, but mentally she wasn’t prepared for the field again. She was more than ready to be back at work. She hated being out, leaving the team short-handed after only two weeks of joining them to solve just that, so she was eager to get back to them. She was just glad that the shooting’s effects on her body provided a reason to disguise the mental ones that left her hesitant to get back on the streets.
When she finally made it to work, she took a deep breath before climbing the steps into the district. She wasn’t sure what to expect. She warned the team against any sort of welcome back. At her old district, it was a tradition to greet cops who were injured on the job with a grand welcoming, but she always hated the idea of it. The attention was bad enough, but she always thought it was strange to celebrate someone almost dying for simply doing their job. Immediately as she reached the top of the steps, her shoulders relaxed to see the lobby empty. Not even the ever so illustrious desk sergeant was at her post, so she took the opportunity to sneak upstairs.
She was surprised to be greeted with a vacant bullpen. She wasn’t sure who she was expecting, but she imagined at least someone would have beaten her there. As she moved through the space towards the locker room, a low wince behind the desks stopped her in her tracks. She then heard what sounded like someone falling over, followed by a murmur of suppressed laughter.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” she finally questioned, both amused and muddled by the unsourced noises.
“This is officially the last time I include Ruz in a surprise,” Kim said, shaking her head with an enlivened grin as she and the other two Intelligence members climbed out from behind the desks.
“You stepped on my foot, what’d you expect me to do?” Adam bridled, causing Hailey and the others to let out stifled snickers.
God, did she miss those idiots.
“Sorry, Upton. This was supposed to be a fun little welcome back, but I guess it’s a bit anticlimactic now so uh, here,” Kevin said, extending the cup of coffee in his hand out to her. “Welcome back,” he smiled, his contagious smile enough to get her grinning from ear to ear.
“Thanks, guys,” she said quietly. “You didn’t have to do anything, but I appreciate it, and I’m just glad to be back.”
“We’re glad you’re back,” Kim said, the two guys nodding in agreement. Hailey smiled, dipping her head sheepishly before cutting the sudden silence with a sigh.
“Well, I still need to hit the locker room, but I fully expect a rundown of what I’ve missed while I was gone when I come back,” she told them before turning on her heels and heading down the hall.
As she was putting the last of her things into her locker, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She sat on the bench behind her as she retrieved the phone, tapping the screen to read the message that had just come in. Her face instantly lit up when she saw who it was from.
Happy first day back! Kick ass!
Her fingers tapped out a response quickly.
Kinda hard to do that from a desk, but I’m sure I’ll find a way lol
She settled on it before pocketing the phone and making her way back into the bullpen. The team caught her up on what she’d missed, and she told them about how uneventful her recovery was, leaving out the part where she met a new friend. They dished out all of their details, work-related and non-work-related until Voight eventually showed. He took only a brief moment to check up on Hailey and welcome her back before they dove into the day’s case.
Hailey spent the rest of the day combing through pod footage, making phone calls, and digging up any other information she could to relay back to the team. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of the job, but it kept her busy and it helped her to find her groove again.
By the end of the day, they were unofficially able to close up the case. They still had batches of paperwork to fill out, but other than that it was pretty cut and dry, so Voight sent them home.
As they exited the district, her three fellow officers expressed how happy they were to have her back for the last time that day. It gave her the warmest feeling as she realized she got to work with some of the best people she’d ever met, but it also made her happy to have been so clearly missed by them. Walking out with them she took in every smile and every laugh. It was such a trivial moment, but it was the kind of memory her new outlook on life made her want to cherish.
When she pulled up outside of her place, a car she’d never seen along her street before caught her eye. It was a baby blue, vintage, convertible of some sort. She wasn’t much of a car person, but it was just one of those cars no person could refuse to appreciate. After one last glance at it, she hopped out of her own car and made her way up to her front door. She froze when she saw a friendly figure perched on her small stoop. A confused smile crept across her face as Jay stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he sauntered towards her.
“Hi?” She greeted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Hey, how was your day? Did you kick ass?” he asked casually, now standing only but a few feet in front of her.
“Good, and I guess as best as I could behind a desk… what are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes darting around in confusion.
“In honor of your first day back, we are going to cross something off my list,” he told her. His words coming out slowly, and she noted the way they came out as a statement rather than a question.
“It better not be the one where you jump in the Chicago River,” she challenged, pointing a finger out with her words. He let out a chuckle, his mouth twisting into a sinister smile.
“No…” she muttered, a sudden bout of fear rising in her.
“I’m kidding, come on,” he instructed, brushing past her as he nonchalantly headed out toward the street.
It was only when he stopped at the driver’s side of the car that she realized the connection.
“Wait, that’s yours?” she questioned, a look of disbelief on her face.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he replied, the rise in his voice’s pitch revealing to her that he was bluffing. All it took was one raised brow, and he immediately caved.
“Okay fine, it’s a loaner. I’ve got a lot of friends in high places,” he shrugged, steadying a hand against the top of the door as he jumped over it and into the driver’s seat.
Since they’d met, she’d tried to keep her thoughts about him purely platonic. For the most part, she’d been fairly successful, but there was something about the way he jumped into that seat so smoothly that was so damn hot. That, the green beanie he wore that brought out the forest color of his eyes, and the way he looked so confident in that car had her questioning her feelings for a moment. She stood on the sidewalk looking over at him, slightly lost in a lingering gaze as butterflies danced about in her stomach. It was only when he cleared his throat that she was snapped out of it.
“So, you coming or what?”
“Coming where?”
“It’s item number seven on my list, rent a convertible and drive down Lake Shore late at night,” he smirked, one arm propped against the headrest of the passenger seat and the other draped over the steering wheel.
“Okay, that actually does sound pretty fun. Let me put my bag up,” she told him, lightly jogging to her front door before haphazardly tossing the bag into the dark space and locking up again. As she approached the car, he leaned over and pushed the door open for her, and she slipped into the passenger seat.
“Ready?” he asked, and she confirmed the question with a nod.
When he started the car, the roar of the engine was loud enough to send a judder through her bones. When he sped off down the street, she found herself instinctively clutching at the sides of the car for stability. She was filled with equal parts fear and exhilaration as they raced up and down half-empty streets.
By the time they reached Lake Shore, the sun had already set, but twilight brought out a deep blue tinge that stood out against the city lights. It was like she was seeing the city for the first time. Like she was falling in love with it all over again. That view, with the roar of the engine, wind blowing through her hair, and the 70s roadtrip music he’d put on playing through the old stereo made her feel like she was in a movie. He drove the road until they reached just about the outskirts of the city. He pulled the car off somewhere near Montrose beach and got out, quickly running over to her side to open her door.
“And they say chivalry’s dead,” she teased, masking the way the simple act had her stomach doing flips. He rolled his eyes at her, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face as she stepped out and he pushed the door shut behind her.
“So what are we doing here?” she questioned as he led them closer to the shore of the lake.
“I don’t know. We ran out of road, the lake’s pretty in the moonlight, and after a boring day of desk duty, I feel like it’s not a half-bad way to end the night,” he said simply, sitting down on the ledge by the lake.
As she sat down with him, she quickly realized how much colder it was by the water. The brisk wind brushing against her skin through the open top of the car was one thing, but the coolness of the lakefront breeze was almost intolerable. She suddenly wished she’d thought to grab her jacket from her duffle before they left. As she settled down beside him, she clutched her arms tightly against her chest as shivers jumped through her body. Before she knew it, as if he had read her mind, he shimmied off his jacket and held it out to her. She thanked him, a tone of gratitude and hesitation in her voice as she pulled it on over her shoulders. When she did, she noticed him glancing over at her badge still displayed on her hip. His eyes lingered there before he realized she’d caught him looking and he quickly diverted his eyes, holding back whatever question the object had generated.
“What?” she asked in an attempt to pull it out of him.
“Hm? Nothing,” he shrugged off. She knew it wasn’t nothing, but she decided against pressing him for whatever it was. She knew the job was a touchy subject, and she figured it was best to leave it alone.
“So I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I may sound crazy for this, but part of me feels like your text last night actually worked,” she informed him, fidgeting with a loose pebble she found on the ground beside her.
“What text?” his face contorted as he seemed to comb through his memory from the night before. “Oh wait… no nightmares?”
She shook her head.
“First night without them after more than three straight. Maybe you’ve got some sort of magic touch,” she half-joked, her tight-lipped grin growing across her face.
“I don’t know if I can take credit for that, but that’s good. You deserve that peace,” his voice was soft and low, and she didn’t miss the way his cheek dimpled slightly when he flashed her a small smile.
“So what’d you get into today?” she asked him, tucking one of her legs in and twisting so that she could face him.
“Um let’s see, I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, went to the grocery store, had a therapy session this afternoon, you know, all very exciting things,” he said, counting out each activity on his fingers.
“You go to therapy?” she asked, instantly regretful of the almost judgmental tone she carried as the words left her mouth. She just couldn’t help but be surprised that someone like him, a cop, a veteran, a man would be so open about it. She realized the thought only played into the toxic mentalities surrounding mental health and masculinity that she despised so much, but part of her also wondered if it was her own reluctance to start therapy that made her so staggered by the idea.
“Yeah, for a few years now. Based on your reaction, I’m going to assume you don’t?”
“I’ve done the mandatory sessions with the department shrink after shootings before, but never anything consistent. How’d you get started?” she wasn’t even sure if it was an appropriate question to ask, but she was so intent on knowing more that she didn’t take time to second guess it. Though, she was relieved when his face read an expression of musing rather than one of annoyance.
“There’s a bad take we often absorb as cops — as people really, but even more so as cops. We get injured on the job, we do whatever we need to do to heal, and we jump through whatever hoops we gotta jump through just to get back out there. The problem is there’s such a focus on our physical healing that we neglect what needs to be addressed mentally. I went through my whole life doing that. You get to a point where after so many times of telling people you’re fine, you start to convince yourself that you are,” he inhaled deeply, staring out at the lake briefly before he brought his eyes back to her and continued.
“Thing is, you do that for too long and you start to lose sight of what’s real. I was so against getting help, so against the idea that there was anything wrong with me that I began to just accept the fact that I was suffering. Then one day, that sense of reality I’d lost came back and bit me… hard. After that, I started going to therapy, very reluctantly at first, but eventually, I realized it was saving me. Helping me get to a place where I was healing instead of dealing, and I haven’t turned back from it since,” he finished, tightening his lips together as he peered into her eyes with a look of confidence. Like he knew everything he’d said was exactly what she needed to hear.
“Damn,” she whispered, blankly staring out at the lake as she processed his words. She blinked rapidly to recede the tears that had emerged. She’d spent her entire life, best put in his words, dealing rather than healing. She was no stranger to trauma, in fact, she was far from it, but she was a stranger to properly addressing it. She wasn’t against therapy, she just figured she didn’t need it. That she was doing fine on her own, but that one conversation with him was making her think otherwise.
“Well, maybe I should add therapy to my still breathing list,” she quipped, her best attempt at lightening the mood.
“Not a bad thing to add,” he smirked, his face softening as he propped an arm behind him to lean back against.
“Well, my first thing was kinda lame, so I figure it can only go up from here,” she joked, a mischievous grin spouting across her face. He scoffed, clutching at his chest as he feigned hurt by her words.
They talked for maybe longer than they should’ve, falling into an easy rhythm back and forth as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind. Hailey was the type of person who could talk to any and everyone if she had to, but there was something about talking to him that felt like a routine. Like one that she’d memorized by heart and never wanted to go without. After a while, she realized the time, realized she still hadn’t eaten, and that she had work early the next morning.
“God I didn’t realize how late it was, we should probably head back,” she told him, pushing herself up to stand. He nodded, standing with her as he fumbled in his pocket for the keys.
“Now… I know this was for my list but do you wanna drive back?” he asked, rising to stand with her. He dangled the keys in front of her. Her face brightened immediately, and he couldn’t hold in the puff of laughter that came with it.
“I thought you were never going to ask,” she joked, pulling his jacket tight across her body with her free hand before snatching the keys and making her way over to the driver’s side. As he climbed into the passenger seat, she crossed her good arm around the steering wheel to turn the key, and the engine started with a roar. She revved it a few times, looking over at Jay whose fearful expression had laughter escaping her lips.
“Am I going to regret this?” he asked, but instead of answering she just swiveled the steering wheel to pull off the shoulder, gunning the engine down the presently empty street.
Before long they were back at her place, and she shifted the gear into park before turning off the engine. Driving with one arm was harder than she thought it would be, mainly for the fact that the ignition and gear shift were on the right side and her right arm was still in a sling. Yet, it didn’t stop her from having the time of her life driving such a car. She climbed out after she handed him back the keys, making her way around to lean against the back bumper.
“That was incredible,” she told him, digging in her pocket for her own keys.
“Anyone ever tell you that you drive like a maniac?” he jabbed, causing her to lightly kick at his leg.
“So what else is on that list of yours?” she inquired, noting the way he shadowed over her.
“Hm, I don’t know. I kind of liked surprising you tonight. If I tell you, it may take the fun away when we get around to the next one,” he admitted, a childlike softness in his voice that made it hard for her to be mad at his obscurity. She cut her eyes at him, and she noticed the way his brow furrowed back innocently.
“Are you always this aloof?”
“Only with you.”
She rolled her eyes at him dramatically, shaking her head at his goading.
“Well, thanks for tonight,” she said, pulling the jacket from her shoulders and offering it back to him.
“Next time we’ll do something from your list,” he told her as she pushed herself from the car and made her way up to her front door.
“Sounds like a plan,” she twirled around to tell him, her lips curling up at the thought of another night like that one.
“And Hailey,” he called out, just as she reached the top of the steps.
“Sleep well. No bad dreams,” he uttered, a small smile creeping across his face as his hands found way to his pockets.
It was the last time that night an action of his had caused an unexpected flutter in her stomach. She was embarrassed and somewhat fearful of the way those simple words had her feeling so dippy. Maybe it was the sentiment behind them, the way he’d said it, or the stupid smile on his face when he said it, but she wondered if the feeling that he’d erupted was more than just a fleeting one. She quickly pushed that thought down, dipping her head before hesitantly meeting his eyes once more.
“Goodnight, Jay,” she told him before making her way inside, shutting the door and locking it behind her as if it would somehow protect her from what had just happened.
She had to blame it on her exhaustion and the slight adrenaline rush she got from the night’s events. She’d also never had a friend like him. Someone who always had the perfect thing to say, whose company felt so natural and necessary, who seemed to relate so much to everything she was feeling. It was admiration more than anything, she told herself. He was just her friend, and he’d stay that way. Yet, as much as she tried to convince herself that all of those times that night that suggested differently were just flukes, she ended the night with a looming thought that wondered otherwise.
#upstead#jay x hailey#hailey x jay#jay halstead#hailey upton#chicago pd#upstead fic#justmypartner fics#collection of Em’s fics
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
BTS - Going Solo (Part Two) - Jimin x Ara
Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for mentions of depression/mental illness*
Set a week following ‘Going Solo Part One’, Ara returns home and has to face the reality of how she has been feeling lately.
You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.
To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here
If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.
Content below the cut
Dawn was breaking outside of the window as Ara flew through the clouds; eyeing clusters of towns and cities below as the plane changed altitude. She held her phone loosely in her hands, glimpsing down at the single word typed out in the notes app, knowing she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence.
Jimin…
Her ears were popping and her head hurt; a mixture of dehydration, lack of sleep and the changing pressure inside the cabin and she lowered her device with a sigh, tucking it neatly in her handbag as she shifted in the chair. She doubted she would be able to get any sleep before the plane landed, but it was worth a try. Her manager had reminded her to pack her padded pillow and she slipped it around her neck before reaching for her lavender-scented eye mask, blocking out the dim light and closing her eyes.
***
Jimin…
His name rang around her head and she fought the urge to take out her phone again. She knew what the unfinished message said; she hadn’t been able to get any further than that one word, despite the hours she had tried typing it out. The duvet was soft beneath her backside and she eyed her unpacked suitcase on the floor. One wheel was coming off and she would have to get a new one soon. She wondered if the suitcase was a metaphor for her life and stifled back a laugh, clutching her hands to her face when she realised it sounded more like a sob. She couldn’t cry though...she had already tried. Staring at the plain, white wall in her bedroom, she had spent the past half hour urging the tears to come; wanting to feel something, but the most she could manage was a half-strangled moan; the catharsis she so desperately needed never coming. Her eyes were bone dry and a little sore.
She twisted to glance at the clock above the bed and realised she wouldn’t be able to keep herself awake long enough to wait for him to come home. He was at the studio with Jungkook, working on a duet for the younger member’s new album and was bound to lose track of the time; it was inevitable. Ara remembered early in their relationship one time she had spent an afternoon cooking for him, reading the recipe carefully from an old book she had picked up second hand and measuring the ingredients in meticulously accurate amounts. It had come out a little burnt, but she felt proud for having made something for someone else. He had been late home that night and the dinner had gone cold. She hadn’t blamed him; he was still making music with the group back then and the younger members had invited him back to their shared apartment to play video games after dance practice. She had told him her intentions that morning but, it turned out he had either forgotten or didn’t quite believe her when she said she would cook for them both. He had always underestimated her back then but who could blame him? She underestimated herself too.
Ara realised she had laid down at some point during the past ten minutes but couldn’t remember doing it. The bed suddenly felt very big and very warm, the blankets thick and cosy and she allowed herself to close her eyes, just for a moment or two…
***
Ara grunted at the sound of the door opening on its hinges and opened her eyes. The room took a few moments to come into focus and, with some effort, she rolled onto her side towards the sound. Jimin’s head was poking around the side of the doorframe and she gave another tired grunt.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” He whispered, a shy grin fixed on his face.
She rubbed her eyes, watching as he creeped towards her, trying to be quiet despite her having already woken. He was holding a shoebox; a pink ribbon tied across the centre, and he placed it on the floor carefully. “What time is it?” She yawned.
“Just gone eight. I’m sorry it took me so long.” When he reached the edge of the bed, he kneeled onto the sheets, crawling across to where she was laying and joining her side. He smiled sweetly, running his fingers through the tips of her hair. “I like the purple.”
She gave another grunt in response, clearing her throat. “I thought you liked the pink?” Her voice was still gruff from sleep and she suspected her hair was just as messy, but he kissed her anyway, pecking her cheek gently.
“I like both.” He pulled away to look at her, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. “I like you.”
“You too.” She murmured.
“Did you have a long journey?” He asked, running a hand along her back until he reached her hip which he held steady.
She nodded against the sheets. “I had to be up at four.”
“In the morning?”
“Yeah.” She confirmed. “We had a lot of luggage to check in.”
He shifted a little against the duvet until his knees touched hers. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” She mumbled, still feeling tired and achy from the journey.
“Do you want to see what I bought you?” He asked hopefully. She looked past his shoulders towards the edge of the bedroom where she could just make out the box.
“Shoes?” She guessed, eyes following as he turned around and slid gracefully off the bed, picking up the package and bringing it to her. She made an effort to sit up a little as he handed it to her.
Jimin grinned widely, his excitement obvious. “Open it.”
She hesitated before tugging on the ribbon. It came apart easily and she lifted the white lid carefully off the box, lightly fingering through the tissue paper to reveal the present. The shoes matched the ribbon and were just as delicate looking; the satin fabric shimmered in the light. She stared at them, as though transfixed.
“Do you like them?”
She looked up at him, head still groggy from her extended nap. Her headache hadn’t yet subsided completely and it took a moment to realise he had asked a question. “Why?” She frowned, not fully understanding what he had asked.
He shrugged easily. “I thought they’d look nice on you.”
She folded the tissue back over the heels, covering them once more before she put on the lid. “Thank you.” She belatedly replied. “I didn’t bring you anything.”
Jimin took the box from her and gently lowered it to the foot of the bed before joining her when she leaned back against the pillow. “That’s not true…” He shook his head, reaching forward to hold her body against him. He was silent for a few moments, stroking her hip, before he whispered. “Did you miss me?”
“Yes.” She replied, equally quiet.
“Were you lonely?” He kept his voice low as he appreciated her features; eyes drifting across her nose and lips and cheeks.
She nodded. “It was hard.”
Jimin’s heart seemed to sink at her words and he stroked her arm lovingly, moving along her soft, pale skin until he reached her shoulder where the edge of her white camisole shielded the rest from view. “I missed you a lot.” He admitted, moving forward to kiss her forehead. Her skin was warm to the touch and he wondered if she might be getting a fever. He pulled away lightly, observing the way her eyelids seemed too heavy for their sockets.
“I know.” She mumbled understandably, closing her eyes.
He gave a soft chuckle, rubbing her shoulder with his fingertips. “You really need some sleep don’t you?”
She nodded against the pillow. “Sleep would be nice.”
He spoke no more, watching her expression as she fell deeper and deeper into sleep, her chest rising and falling gently until it was barely moving at all. Jimin held her carefully, not wanting to leave her side but knowing it was too early for him to join her. Still, he remained, listening to the calming sounds of her gentle breathing along with the steady, lulling tick of the clock above the bed.
***
Jimin had finally fallen asleep some time after ten and judging by the deep, red grooves which lined his forearms, he must have slept deeply. The blinds had been left open a little and a stark, white early morning light filled the room, indicating he had managed a decent few hours. He wondered if the good night was thanks to Ara’s presence. The past few weeks he had found himself tossing and turning incessantly, having to get up once or twice to grab himself a snack or watch a little T.V while he wondered what she was doing; whether the time zones matched up or if she was just getting up, ready to make her daily appearance on a foreign talk show or driving to some arena for rehearsals. It took him a moment to realise she was not beside him, though an indent remained on the pillow. He looked around the room, noticing a few of the drawers on the far side had been left open; a few of his sweatshirts sticking out from the edge. Slowly, he sat up, blinking a few times as he observed the wardrobe at the foot of the bed was likewise opened wide. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it had been fuller the last time he had checked. A few of her dresses remained, suspended on coat hangers, but there were a good few missing. Quickly, and with a fair amount of panic, he shuffled out of bed, pulling open the bedroom door and walking down the small hallway into the kitchen.
“Ara?” He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her seated at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea clutched between her hands. She was staring straight ahead, though looked up at the sound of his voice. He only just noticed the dark bags beneath her eyes, now she was bare faced. His eyes flickered towards the sink where her suitcase was tucked, flush against the cupboards. He frowned. “Where are you going?”
Ara looked away, voice empty. “Back on tour.”
He opened his mouth to respond before closing it, his chest sinking heavily at the realisation she wasn’t making any sense. He took a step closer to the table, dread coursing through his veins. She had been tired the night before, unusually so, but had seemed herself at least. He wondered what new medication the doctors had put her on and whether it was somehow messing with her head. “Are you okay?” He slowly asked, bending down to face her.
She sighed. “Not really.”
His forehead wrinkled heavily. “Have I done something wrong?”
She turned to look at him, their faces at equal heights and now he could see how much older she suddenly looked. When she didn’t reply, he continued, failing to hide his confusion.
“You just got back. Your contract is over.”
She shook her head solemnly. “No it isn’t.”
His heart sank. “What do you mean?” He whispered.
“I signed a new one.”
Her voice was calm and Jimin realised she was telling the truth, though he couldn’t quite process what was happening. “When?” He asked, a little higher than expected.
“Last week.” She murmured. “When I was in Tokyo.”
He looked her in the eye, forcing himself to meet her gaze despite the unsteadiness he felt in his limbs as he crouched beside her. “For how long?”
“Seven years.”
He shook his head in disbelief, hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. There was no emotion in her voice; no sense of joy or excitement that would signal what she was telling him was good news. He found himself reaching for her hand, desperate to hold onto something that would keep him steady. Her fingers were cold against his; thin and delicate in his loose grasp. “I didn’t think that was what you wanted.” He eventually said, only just managing to get the words out.
She was looking at their hands, eyes fixed on the space where they connected, but she turned away, gazing out of the window at the blank, grey sky. “I don’t know what I want…” She admitted, turning back when he let go of her to stand back up; her eyes followed him and he saw them glisten in the stark light. “It’s easier this way.”
“What about moving house?” He asked, the hurt in his voice obvious. “You’ll hardly be at home.”
She frowned below her blonde bangs. “I’m not sure I want to move house.”
He shook his head, trying to stay calm. “You could have just said.” He shrugged, keeping his voice low. “Instead of signing a new contract.”
She was silent for a moment, taking a few deep breaths while Jimin waited for her to respond.
“I’m not sure I want to move house…” She spoke slowly, only realising as she said it that it was true. “Because I’m not sure if I want to be with you anymore.” Her own admission shocked her into silence though she felt no sense of relief as Jimin stared at her, silent for a long time before his lip trembled.
“Are you serious?”
Ara nodded slowly. “I’ve felt like this for a while…” She confessed. “But I couldn’t do it before.”
His eyes dropped to the floor, though his voice came out high-pitched and squeaky. “What have I done?”
The sight of him filled her with sadness and for the first time that morning she felt her emotions with clarity. It took her a moment to work out how to respond and when she did, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.
“It wouldn’t be fair on you...” She murmured, her own voice breaking. “When I’m not sure how I feel.”
His eyes darted back to the suitcase, a low whimper escaping his lips. “So you’re leaving me?”
She nodded, her emotions bubbling to the surface. She held back a sob, needing to say it clearly. “I think I have to.” Once the words left her lips, she finally let go. It was like a dam had broken inside her; one which had been in place for so long, and she cried openly, unable to hold it back any longer. Jimin moved forward, wrapping her in his arms as she clung to him, standing up to press herself against his body and hooking her arms around his neck.
“I love you…” He mouthed against her hair and she let out a sob, her tears dampening the crook of his neck as he pleaded with her. “You don’t have to leave.”
She shook her head against him, words thick with tears. “I do…I do!”
“I don’t want you to go.” His voice broke and she held him closer, squeezing his body.
“Don’t cry Jimin.” She whispered. “Please…”
He held her steady by the waist as he moved away, trying to look at her. “When will you be back?”
She shook her head again, looking away. “I’m not sure.” Her hands moved to her face, trying to cover it from view but he took them gently in his own.
“I can wait for you…” He moved with her as she wriggled in his grasp and held her face steady, thumb brushing her cheekbones, trying to get her to look at him. “I can wait for you!” He repeated, locking eyes with her. Her own were impossibly wide, glistening with tears, but she nodded against his palms. “Don’t give up on us Ara.” He whispered.
Her mouth quivered, opening and closing. “I need to think about this.” She muttered.
“I don’t care how long it takes.” He caressed her cheekbones again, wiping her tears. They were both trembling and she held him tighter, hands clasping behind his neck.
“And if I meet someone else?” She asked, voice wobbling at the thought.
He shook his head, continuing to hold her steady. “Do what you feel is right…” His lips moved to her wet cheek and he kissed it lovingly, lingering there while her body shook against him. Slowly, he moved to the corner of her mouth and she tilted her head, pressing her lips to his. Their mouths opened softly, tears merging as they held each other for a few moments, their noses brushing as they kissed. Slowly, they moved away in unison and she ran her lips across his smooth cheek before touching them to his helix, mouthing against his skin.
“Don’t be mad at me.” She pleaded.
“How could I be mad at you?” He murmured against her, slowly pulling away. When she looked at him, he was smiling, though his cheeks glistened with tears; both his and her own. He gave a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re the love of my life Ara.” He admitted.
Ara nodded dumbly, mouth open, feeling her eyes sting. “There’s never been anyone else…” She agreed, realising she was crying again when she tasted the hot, salty liquid on her tongue, though she didn’t try to hide it this time.
He let out a long sigh, allowing her a bit of space as he took a step back. “If I call you, will you answer?”
She hesitated, before nodding. “I’ll try.”
He looked up from across the small space, speaking steadily, needing her to understand what he was saying. “I want to know you’re safe.” He held her gaze. “Promise me you’ll talk to someone.”
“I have a meeting every month.” She explained.
“Sooner!” He pleaded, reaching out and taking both her hands in his, the urgency in his voice obvious. “Promise me you’ll see them sooner if you’re feeling blue again.”
Her eyebrows were knitted together but she nodded in agreement. “I will…” She gave his hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Do you have anyone too?”
“Don’t worry about me.” He dismissed, looking at the space where they were still connected; her small, fragile-looking hands knitted through his. “Please get better…” He whispered, squeezing her lightly in response.
“I’ll try.” She replied quietly, allowing him to let go as she bent down to collect her suitcase from the floor.
“You can always come home.” His voice came from behind her and she looked back at him. “If it gets too much for you…” He said. “I’ll be here.”
She nodded, understanding and knowing it was true.
“Where will you go?” He asked gently.
Ara wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, collecting herself. “To see my dad. I have meetings later this week...about my contract and the tour.”
“Does he know you’re travelling to Ulsan? Is he expecting you?” Jimin asked, wanting to make sure she had a plan.
She shook her head lightly. “No.” She admitted. “But he’ll want to see me. My brother too…it’s been two years.”
Jimin nodded, gesturing towards the red case. “Let me drive you to the station.” He offered.
She thought for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”
He walked around the edge of the table before she could protest and scooped down to pull up the extendable handle of the case. She followed his lead into the hallway, where he left the luggage on the welcome mat by the front door. The thick rug was pink and decorated with daisies; Ara had chosen it during a trip to a shopping mall shortly before her audition and it had sat there ever since, a reminder of the life she had led before. She glanced at it as Jimin edged past her, into the bedroom at the end of the hall. He came out a moment later, the shoe box he had gifted her tucked under his arm. Ara remained silent, watching as he placed it on top of the suitcase, balanced steadily between his body and the handle, before he opened the front door.
***
Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook
& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here
& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here
You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)
#bts#bts jimin#jimin#bts scenarios#bts fanfiction#bts fan fiction#bts jimin scenarios#bts jimin fanfiction#bts jimin fan fiction#btsjimin#park jimin#bts x oc#jimin x oc#jimin x ara#bts angst#jimin angst#bts girlfriends#bts girlfriend#bts fics#bts fic#bts fanfics#bts fan fics#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts reacts#jimin fics#jimin fic#jimin fanfics#jimin fanfic#jimin fan fiction
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Academy Blues
oh, deer
word count: 2.8k
warnings: none for this chapter, vague foreshadowing
ship: dousy (daisy johnson x daniel sousa), background Fitzsimmons and Philinda
heyyyyy…. yes i posted it early on Ao3
howeverrr you guys are gonna like this chapter. i just feel it in my bones (bc its fluffy and the angst starts kicking in in the next one)
“You look like Rudolph, Daisy,” Elena greeted.
Daisy took a large swig of coffee, rolling her eyes but smirking. The pair were walking together to Elena’s first class after a tough early-morning spar.
“You’re the one who punched me where I already had a bruise,” Daisy shot back.
“Hey, I already told you I was aiming for the jaw. It’s not my fault you didn’t duck quick enough.”
They laughed as Elena swiped her key card to the comms building. Daisy held the door for Elena, shoving her lightly in the back as she passed.
“Hey!”
“Not my fault you can’t see backwards,” Daisy teased.
It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes and laugh, slowing to a stop outside May’s lecture room.
“Right. Wish me luck, I heard May was giving a pop quiz today,” Elena grimaced.
“You don’t need any luck. I’ll see ya, Elena,” Daisy replied.
“Yeah, you will!” Elena said, backing into May’s large lecture room.
Daisy watched her wave and sit down with a group of third-years, her perfect french braids swishing behind her, before turning around. Daisy didn’t have a moment to think about where she was going before she ran into a solid wall.
Daisy looked up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes, crinkled at the edges with a small smile. The wall’s hair was ruffled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He wore black SHIELD sweats and a white t-shirt. The wall was very attractive. She vaguely registered the smattering of books on the ground, her mind more focused on his hands on her shoulders.
“Daisy, are you okay?”
She must have been staring for too long. “Yeah, I’m good! Great! Sorry, Sousa,” she apologized, quickly bending over to pick up his books. She almost dropped them again when his hand brushed hers while she handed the thick textbooks back. She gave him a quick smile, taking a deep breath to compose herself, reciting her affirmations. I am Daisy Johnson. I am an Agent of SHIELD. I can move the Earth. I am powerful. I am in control of myself.
Daniel’s smile grew a bit when he heard Daisy laughing quietly to herself.
“I guess you could say I really swept you off your feet.”
Daniel chuckled at the quip, his hands still on her shoulders. “Yeah. Foot,” Daniel corrected. Daisy furrowed her brows, but ignored the strange comment.
“Right. Well, the bell—” Daisy was cut off by a long, high-pitched bell. She closed her eyes tight, the blaring alarm causing tiny vibrations to travel through her skull. When she opened them, Daniel was still standing in front of her, white tee and black sweats and messy morning hair encouraging just a bit more flirting before he had to leave.
“Wow, look at you. Late! I’m a bad influence on you, Danny.”
Daniel shrugged, glancing at his watch. “S’not the first time,” he murmured lowly, stepping away and giving her a last look before he disappeared into the classroom.
Daisy pretended not to notice her heart rate had risen from it’s usual sixty beats-per-minute to seventy-six beats-per-minute.
Daisy spent the rest of the day absentmindedly completing work in her classes. For some reason, flirting with Daniel felt… different than it had with her exes. Even her exes in SHIELD. Daniel was grounded. He had a calm presence. Being late didn’t phase him in the slightest; Daisy would have internally berated herself for the rest of the day.
She was finishing a short answer assignment from International Law and SHIELD Policy while stretching on the outdoor training grounds when she saw him again: still in sweats despite the heat. He was still walking with same, familiar limp. Then it clicked—’Foot’; the throwaway comment from earlier made much more sense now. He had a prosthetic. Before she could think anymore about that revelation, May called the Ops trainees to gather around her under a giant maple tree. Daisy was the last to get up, hanging towards the back as usual.
“Ops training, eh?”
Sousa turned to Daisy standing beside him, breaking his focus on May to turn to her. “Yeah. I used to be military, remember? 28th Infantry Recon Scout. I figure I’ve got to get at least near the level I used to be before I can go in the field.”
Daisy nodded, her hair caught in a slight breeze. “As long as you don’t steal my crown as the Queen of Spar, Master of Field Ops Physical Training.”
Daniel chuckled quietly, turning his attention back to May, who was explaining today’s exercises.
“Partners,” Daisy breathed. Daisy hated partners, unless it was May. She’d rather condition. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the other trainees, they were great people! But her nerves got the better of her and she ended up holding back, not helping herself or her partner. She knew how to control her powers, how to keep herself from using them while sparring. Whispers of doubt and guilt still invaded, fogging her mind like deadly mist.
You could kill them. It’s happened before…
She was taken back to the moment by Daniel tapping her shoulder. “Partners?”
Daisy reluctantly nodded and motioned to him to follow her over to a thick pad of grass next to a small willow tree.
“So, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? It’s Tuesday, which is usually a mix of breathing and nerve control and focusing on technique, rather than strength.”
Daniel glanced over at the other partners, who were all going through defensive and offensive stances slowly, like tai chi, he thought.
Daisy walked closer to where he had stopped beside the willow, pointing out a pair of partners moving almost in sync.
“They’re focusing on how their breathing can help their fighting. Mentally and physically. If you’re nervous, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and then your body gets sloppy. If you aren’t breathing, your heart rate spikes, your brain goes fuzzy and your body gets sloppy. Breath can make a punch more powerful and a kick more accurate, if you know how to use it. I’ll show you the moves.”
Defensive, offensive, block, strike, block, kick. Daisy continued in a cycle until Sousa could mirror her movements with little effort.
Daisy stopped him then. “Great! You’re a quick learner,” She winked, smiling wide.
Daniel smiled back, “So how do I do the breathing thing?”
Daisy pondered how to explain it for a second. “You have to flow, like water. You control your breathing, you have the power. But at the same time, you have to let the air flow naturally. The moves will align with your breath, don’t force it.”
Daniel nodded, and they were off. It took a minute to get into the groove, but once he did, it felt effortless. Every kick, block, inhale and turn, exhale and strike came naturally. It gave him the opportunity to study Daisy.
Usually, especially in the early mornings in the computer lab, Daisy looked tired. Her brows were drawn slightly, fingers fidgeting, knee bouncing. In the halls she walked briskly and adjusted her bag or checked her watch often, a small tic she didn’t seem to notice. Right now, though, breeze across her olive skin, Daisy looked cool as water.
She felt the earth beneath her. The trees and grass and flowers in the wind. She tuned in to the radio of her surroundings, letting her muscle memory guide her. The forest was really loud. The concrete buildings had a sort of buzz, too. They mixed in her bones like the sounds of a great symphony, low rumbles and high-pitched chittering and long, constant notes that provided a harmony to the undulating melody. The frequencies of each living and non-living thing in the area seemed to be flowing around her, steady.
Daniel softly stared at her as she moved through the flow with him. She was very good at this. He was having a bit of trouble, though he doubted he would be having this much trouble if it wasn't Daisy right in front of him. For an exercise designed to relax them, wasn’t it counterintuitive to partner with the girl that made his heart skip a beat when she smiled?
When May clapped her hands and signaled the end of the session, the tired, sweaty kids gathered around May’s oak tree. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, bringing a glow to each of their faces. Daisy looked radiant.
“Class is dismissed. Tomorrow, we’re conditioning,” May warned. In a quieter voice, May called, “Daisy, can you hang for a second?”
Daisy stepped away from her bag and towards May. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. I have a question for you. Would you mind giving up your free period three times a week?”
Daisy’s eyebrows raised, no classes that she knew of only took place three times a week. “I want to say yes, but I’d also like to know why?”
“Fair. Top brass called. If you want to be a field agent with powers, you’ve got to practice fighting with them, get comfortable with them. I know everything that happened with Lincoln…” May paused, gauging Daisy’s reaction. When there wasn’t any, May continued. “Your powers didn’t make you an agent, I did.”
May paused, giving Daisy a chance to settle her thoughts before adding, “But I think this is important.”
Daisy slowly nodded. If this was important to May, then Daisy had no problems giving up her free period.
“Who will I train with?” she asked.
May smiled. “Meet Yo-Yo and I behind the garage at seven sharp tomorrow morning.΅
Daisy saluted playfully, wandering to her bag and walking in the direction the other students had gone. She could see them filtering into the cafeteria. A smoothie sounded nice…
The canteen was full of students grabbing plates of chicken and veggie tacos. Daisy was always happy during dinner on taco Tuesday. She grabbed her plate and a small green juice and searched for a familiar pair of heads, warm brown eyes and freckles sitting next to dirty blonde curls.
As she approached, two hands went up, waving. Weaving her way through students, she saw Fitz pat the seat beside him.
“Oi, Dais! I've got something to show you!”
Daisy sat down, her attention drawn to the tiny device on the table in front of her. It was small enough to fit in her hand, but surprisingly heavy for its size. Multiple coloured wires stuck out from various surfaces. Fitz was grinning at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He pressed a button on a small remote that sat on the table. Daisy looked over at Jemma, puzzled. Was something supposed to be happening?
Daisy glanced down at her hand. There was nothing there but a constant weight.
“Fitz! You replicated cloaking!”
Jemma and Fitz immediately shushed her, looking around. “He wasn’t supposed to! It’s above his ‘level’. Professor Weaver practically forbid him.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. This was very Fitz. Tell him he can’t, and he will, just to prove it to himself. Holding it up to eye level and moving it around, Daisy marveled at the seamless invisibility. “What are you gonna do with it?”
Fitz shrugged. He began to explain a number of uses for the device, along with the technical modifications he’d have to make for them to work. She tuned out after Jemma exasperatedly told him they couldn’t train monkeys to be invisible recon scouts.
Her plan to learn something from Fitzsimmons banter was derailed when Daisy noticed a shadow at the corner of her eye. It slipped away as quickly as it came, around the corner of the cafeteria and out of sight.
Why was she getting déjà vu?
“Dais, you alright there?” Fitz asked quietly.
Daisy turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, I thought I saw something. Probably just tired.”
The sandy blonde boy laughed, “S’only Tuesday, Dais. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us!”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve got six tests this week!” Simmons countered.
Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise, quickly shut when Fitz made a comment about catching flies. “Wait, so you aren’t excited for the tests?”
Jemma shook her head miserably, her amber eyes rolling. “No. Usually I would be, it’s so odd! But I was studying the other night and reviewing old tests, and my chest felt so heavy and my head started spinning—”
Fitz stopped her by putting his hand over hers, gently reassuring her. Watching the two, Daisy thought her heart might burst, a bubbly feeling rising in her chest.
Jemma turned back to her, considerably less distressed.
“Do you want some help studying?” Daisy offered.
Jemma nodded. “Tonight, 8, the rooftop?”
The group nodded.
At eight o’clock, Daisy carefully climbed out her window and around the corner to the fire escape. The stairs whispered and creaked with the wind, but you would never know anyone was climbing the iron to the roof unless you ran directly into her.
She arrived at the last landing, one floor above her own, and crouched down. She jumped, using small quakes as a make-shift propulsor. Jemma turned her head towards the soft thump of Daisy landing on the roof.
The space was decorated with a jungle of potted plants and fairy lights strung around the ledge, mix-matched multicoloured and shades of white. They cast a warm glow across the spread of notes and textbooks neatly placed in front of Jemma. Daisy approached, pulling out her laptop and a pouch of pens, pencils, highlighters, and white-out.
“Ready for our study date?”
Jemma smiled. “Yes. Fitz should be here any minute.”
The two girls got comfortable, beginning to go over notes and chat idly. Daisy wrote down vocab and key ideas on note cards and organised them by subject. Jemma laughed loudly when Daisy expressed her confusion at the difference between the three biochemistries that she was taking. Suddenly, loud clanging was heard from the side of the building.
“Daisy! Jems!”
The two girls shared a glance at the panicked voice. Fitz.
They rushed over to where he would be coming onto the iron landing, grabbing his hand and helping him over the concrete barrier onto the roof.
Fitz supported himself on his knees, panting. “There's a guy down there. Creepy bastard.”
Jemma and Daisy shared another glance, this one full of concern and trepidation.
Fitz pointed to Daisy. “Askin’ about you, Dais. Your…” Fitz trailed off, drawing waves in the air with his hand.
Jemma rested a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Go check it out, we’ll be here when you get back.”
Daisy reluctantly jumped onto the metal landing below, resisting the urge to use her powers to cushion her landing. She quickly checked the perimeter of the dorm, then wandered closer to the forest that backed up to the dorms.
If only she had night vision as well as the power to create earthquakes.
A subtle movement caught her eye, a dark silhouette shifting in between the trees. A haze of clouds covered the moon, making the forest darker than usual. Daisy stepped forward slowly, her breath speeding up.
The air seemed electric, the few clouds in the sky bloodred with the remaining rays of sunset. The tall pines and thick oaks were silhouetted black against the sky, branches seeming to reach out to grab the twilight shadows. Daisy threw a quick glance over her shoulder, letting out a relieved exhale when she saw Fitz and Jemma watching over her from the roof.
A twig snapped right in front of Daisy, the treeline only twenty feet away. Daisy felt the echo bounce around the forest. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands and lungs. Something, someone, was right on the other side of those bushes…
“AAGH!”
A deer leapt out of the brush, landing right in front of her. Its large doe eyes stared at her, ears back. It was just a fawn.
Daisy slowly let out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms from where they had come up in front of her. She snorted.
“You’re just a baby. What are you doing in the bushes by yourself?”
Daisy tentatively reached out, the fawn showed no signs of moving. She opened her palm, letting the deer sniff before it bounded away across the field.
Daisy sighed. She felt something was off, like you would the moment before you were struck by lightning. Like any second, something else would pop out of the forest, this time a real threat…
Silence.
Stillness.
Daisy sighed, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. I just need sleep. If the paranoia has set in, I definitely need sleep.
Daisy headed back to the dorms, the feeling of eyes on her following until she was safely on the roof with her friends.
The twinkling fairy lights lit the rest of their evening, shadows and deer forgotten in the warmth of laughs and starlight.
#daisy johnson#dousy#daisy johnson/daniel sousa#fitzsimmons#jemma simmons#daniel sousa#leo fitz#timequake#fic#philinda#philindaisy#academy au#ashby writes#x reader#agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#marvel#aos#melinda may
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey hey! First of all, apologies because I just spammed your entire Kingsman tag and queued half your art to my blog. Second of all, I wish I could’ve done it all a million times over because each post of yours deserves roughly a million notes, it’s all GORGEOUS. I just fell so in love with your art style, and I’m not sure why you’re not being flooded with tears and heart shaped chocolate boxes b/c everything from your AUs to animations were just so flawlessly beautiful to look at. I had the biggest grin on my face going through it all! I hope you’re having the best day and thanks so much for sharing your work with us 💝
Hello!!!
sorry for replying so late to this but, god all the feelings i saw all of ur spamming & it warmed my heart to see all your comments & now ur ask like 🥺🥺🥺🥺‼️‼️‼️ Ur so kind ‼️‼️
im slowly getting back into some form of groove after a heavy bout of work, so hopefully there will be more of all shades eventually‼️ i hope u are having an amazing day where u are - TYSM 🧡🧡🧡🧡
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
chronicles of a parisian dumbass 19
i’m sorry i’ve been MIA ; ; i’ve been up to my ears in streaming and also returning to work in-person. either way, i hope you enjoy this update of chronicles. better late than never right?
strap in 💙💖
If Luka could get at his phone, he wouldn’t know what to type. maybe a vague, oh, fuck. Maybe some long thread about how cryptic conversation starters only ever scared him and ended both of his relationships—only to follow up with silence in the face of a couple of likes, or a reply from a sort-of-stranger that would debilitate him, remind him of his own vulnerability, more than it would reassure him. Hell, maybe even a message to Bubbles about how he was right all along that he’d need the luck. Or how Bubbles was right about how he really was in for it the moment he stepped into the bakery.
It’s just that, with the way Marinette Dupain-Cheng is looking at him on her balcony—all sad, scared softness—he gets the feeling that he’s not meant to repeat whatever she tells him.
Luka steels himself, loosens his death grip on the neck of the guitar, and releases a breath he doesn’t want to hold onto anymore. “Yeah,” he says. “Anything.” It comes out choked from how tight his vocal cords are. The way they get sometimes when he plugs in the microphone and hits RECORD.
She pats the floor in front of her and mumbles something about being on equal ground, and he slides down to meet her, guitar in tow. She looks like she wants to touch it, feel now real it is. Or how real he is. As though that moment with his card wasn’t enough.
“It’s about your sister,” she says, her gaze darting away in shame. “And Adrien. Sort of.”
“Okay,” he says. It’s slow, and uncertain, but he hopes it tells her he’s all ears.
Marinette looks at her lap and draws herself up and in. Like she’s wanted to tell him this for a long time. Like she’s only just found the words for it. “We were pretty close,” she says. “In grade school. Not as close as… Rose, yeah, Rose. But we were in the same class for a couple years. I helped her with some class picture stuff, she listened to me yammer on about Adrien after he joined our class… even helped me come up with some ideas on how to… confess to him? Win him over? I don’t know.” She rubs the back of her neck. “Actually, I think all my girl friends did that.”
Luka nods slowly, thinks of the school photos in the album Juleka bought from the thrift shop, tries to match faces in his head. He thinks he sees pigtails. Or maybe a bun. He could be wrong. “So,” he says, “you had it pretty bad for him, huh.”
“I dunno if I had it bad. Like I said, puppy love. I mean, I thought we were soulmates—God, I even named our kids—and I couldn’t even get out a sentence in front of him. I didn’t even like him at first. Plus, we were like, fourteen. I didn’t know any better.”
He shrugs. “Just cause you were fourteen doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.” He thinks he catches a blush stealing across Marinette’s face then, but maybe it’s just a trick of the lights. “So… what changed?”
“With Juleka? Or Adrien?”
“Both, I guess.”
Marinette turns her head away. “It’s dumb.”
Luka shrugs again, smiling faintly. “So?”
She starts to pick at her nails, like her hands are just looking for something to do. Without thinking, he gives the spinner ring on his index finger a flick to get her attention, then slides it off and hands it to her. She looks at it with questions in her eyes, then slips it on. It barely fits her index finger, and it wobbles when she gives it a curious flick of her own. It seems to get the job done, at least. “He lent me his umbrella,” she mumbles, final but sheepish. Then she follows up, before his brow can so much as furrow, “He was friends with an old bully of mine—Mrs. Bourgeois’s daughter, actually—and I caught him doing something with some gum on my chair. And I… misjudged him. “Another flick. “He was trying to make it up to me. And he said… he didn’t have any friends. He hadn’t even been to school.”
He lets out a hollow laugh. “Rich kids, huh?” And then, at the first sign of her discomfort, “Sorry, I—”
“No,” she says. “It’s okay, I was just thinking…” She presses her thumb into the curve and the aged grooves of the ring more than she actually spins it. Like she cares about losing it more than she cares about comforting herself. “I think everything around me told me that… that was how I was supposed to feel. Unwavering love. Now it’s been years, and I think… I think I just wanted to be that friend for him. I just wanted to be what he was looking for.”
Luka lifts his gaze from the ring to her face. “Who says that’s not love?” He doesn’t know where the words come from. They just feel like the right ones to say.
Marinette freezes, blinking at her hands. She doesn’t say anything; the only sound is the whine of his ring as the metal scrapes together with another flick.
When the silence goes on a bit too long for either of their liking, Luka clears his throat uncertainly. “So, um…”
She speaks so he doesn’t have to. “Juleka,” she murmurs. “Right, um…” It’s hard to tell who’s more uncomfortable between the two of them. Who's really supposed to say what next. “Well, I mean… you can sort of imagine that I wasn’t the only one who wanted to… y’know. Be with Adrien.”
Luka doesn’t have to imagine, but he nods anyway.
“Not”— Marinette hedges—“not that Juleka was competition or anything. I mean, duh. Just… there was this other girl—there were other girls, and…”
“You don’t have to tell me this,” he urges. “If it still hurts.”
She closes her eyes. Hard, and just for a moment. “Please let me tell you this.”
Her voice wavers. That’s all the cue Luka needs to stay quiet. To let her say everything, or nothing, at her pace.
“Her name was Lila,” she says. “She was a new girl. From Italy. Everyone liked her, except… she lied. Like, compulsively. About connections she had, places she’d been, charity work she did. And she did it because she wanted everyone to like her. She was just telling people what they wanted to hear because the attention made her feel important. She thrived on it.” She gets to her feet. “Sorry, I can’t sit still when I get all… agitated. You know?”
Luka gestures vaguely at the balcony space. “That makes two of us.”
Marinette takes that as her cue to start pacing and turning on her heels, only pausing every so often to stare up at the night sky. “I was jealous,” she admits. “I was also our class representative. And I might’ve… used that to my advantage.”
Maybe he shouldn’t say Hell yeah out loud, but he’s definitely thinking it.
“I kept tabs on people’s schedules, you know?” she says. “So we could work on important events and class projects and stuff. There was one we were planning for Adrien, to celebrate that he’d been in school with us for a year and all. And it just so happened that…” she shrugs, feigning apology. “All the days that worked conflicted with all her charity work.”
Luka whistles, half-impressed. “This the part where you tell me she decided to make your life a living hell like some high school drama villain?”
Marinette’s face falls. “Yeah,” she says, and her voice cracks, and he wishes he weren’t right. “But all she did was exactly what I did. Convinced… everybody… that every little thing I did was proof that I wasn’t a real friend. That I couldn't commit to anything because I committed to everything. And especially with how I avoided her… didn’t trust her, treated her cruelly. she turned everyone against me, a little at a time. Even Alya.” She shifts her weight. “Even Juleka.”
Luka’s heart sinks. He almost wants to reach for her hands when she paces toward him. Almost wants to kick himself for asking, “And… then what?”
She lingers at the balcony railing, perhaps preferring to tell the night sky the rest. “She got me expelled.”
Luka tenses.
Marinette doesn’t notice. “I’d been telling myself for months that I deserved it. Eventually I just… believed it. Let it happen. Never talked to my classmates again.” She shrugs. “I cried a lot. Transferred schools. Threw myself into… everything. Because if Lila said that was what I was doing—just over-committing—I might as well own it. And because if I was constantly doing something, then I couldn’t stop to think about all the bad things I deserved. And I couldn’t be paranoid about being judged for every little thing I did.”
“What…” He’s trying, with every fiber in him, to keep his heart from breaking for her. To keep himself from blurting out how well he knows the feeling. “What about Alya? And Adrien, and, uh… Mrs. Bourgeois’s kid?”
Marinette turns to face him, leaning back against the railing, and something in her face—no, everything—changes. There’s a tiredness in her eyes, a twitch in her hands. Lines in her face that shouldn’t be there for decades. As though she’s just lived them all over again. “I didn’t talk to Alya for over a year. I couldn’t be friends with her. I couldn’t even talk to her.” Her gaze lowers. “It was really hard on Nino.”
“Nino?”
“Our friend. well. My friend. Her boyfriend. He’s the one I’ve been helping for that summer project.” She folds her arms tight. “He apologized first. If it weren’t for him, Alya and I still wouldn’t be talking. And Chloé, well… Mrs. Bourgeois’s recommendation letter had nothing to do with her. I entered some contests with my portfolio and won a couple of them.” She flicks her gaze back. “I did run into Chloé once. In New York. I guess she decided to live with her mom for a while. She kind of took the ‘enemy of my enemy is my ally’ approach. Which was… weird. But tolerable.”
Luka searches her face, even at a distance, and settles on the end of the deck chair again. “What about Adrien?”
The pause that follows is heavy. He can’t tell who feels the weight of it more; he just hopes it’s equal. Marinette scrunches up her lips, braces herself on the railing, and all those decades come back. “Well,” she murmurs. “I guess you don’t really realize what you have until it’s gone, huh.”
He sobers. “He felt guilty.”
“I guess we all did.” She scuffs her heel. “I guess we all do.”
Luka waits. There must be more she wants to say.
There is. She even starts pacing again. “My guidance counselor used to tell me that all that’s necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing. It was supposed to be comforting.”
He raises an eyebrow. “It doesn’t sound very comforting.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” she says, “He reminded me they were still good people, and good people could do bad things, and even if they were still good, it was okay for me to not want those people in my life anymore. I dunno.” She rocks on her feet. “Maybe someone told Adrien the same thing and he couldn’t stand doing nothing anymore.”
“Did you want him?” he asks. “In your life? Do you still?”
She heaves a laugh like it’s hard to do. “Would you think it was messed up if I said yes?”
“No, of course not.”
“He could see it,” she says. “What Lila was doing. That was why he felt so bad. That was why he convinced her to clear my name. Turns out he knows how to use things to his advantage, too.”
Luka softens and runs his fingers over the body of his guitar. “He must love you a lot,” he says, “if he was willing to do all that for you.”
At first, Marinette doesn’t say anything, only grips the railing tighter. He can see it, how her knuckles go white, as though there’s something she’s trying to forget. Then she murmurs, “She tried to talk to me. Juleka did. To… apologize… I ghosted her. I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. For a while, I didn’t want to deal with anything anymore. I don’t want you to think it didn’t hurt me, because it did. It did hurt.”
Luka’s stomach turns. He puts his guitar down. “That’s why you’ve been so nice to me, huh…” There’s a lump in his throat that he tries to swallow; he only partly succeeds. “You felt guilty about avoiding her and just… wanted to make it up to her.”
Something flashes across Marinette’s face. Horror, maybe. Or shame. “No, I—that’s not what I—”
“I’m not upset.” He’s not. He’s staring at the floor with a pit in his stomach and a shake in his limbs, and his knee is starting to throb again in protest, but he’s not upset. “Really. I get it. If that’s what you needed for your own closure, then…”
A ragged breath and a sniffle cut him off, and he’s barely able to lift his gaze before Marinette kneels in front of him, placing his ring in his palm and closing his fingers around it. He can’t revel in the touch—won’t let himself—because her hands are cold. Trembling. “Don’t go,” she whispers, squeezing his hand tight, and when he looks up there are tears staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t even be asking this of you, just… please, don’t go.”
Luka learned, a long time ago, to look for the things unsaid. when I can’t make it really meant I’m trying to avoid you. when you’re certainly different really meant God, you are a level of fucked-up I can’t put into words. When we need to talk really meant it's over.
He hears, “Please don’t go,” and he thinks he finds, I want you in my life. Don’t you want me in yours?
Or, maybe, I need you.
Or maybe it’s as simple, as desperate, as, Not you, too.
He’s known Juleka, and maybe even himself, long enough to know what that sounds like in other people.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Hey, I’m not going.”
Marinette freezes, still staring at their hands. “Why? You have every reason to.”
“Because I’m not.”
“You’ve known me for like, two months, as what? A baker’s daughter? Overly nice customer service? Someone who just gave you kindness out of some dumb high school guilt?”
“I’m not going,” Luka says again.
“You should.” Marinette rubs her eyes dry. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.” He coaxes his hand open, slides the ring back onto her finger. “Isn’t that enough?”
Marinette studies the ring, giving it a cautious flick. As though touching it might break it altogether. “It’s too big.”
“Then I’ll trade you.” Luka takes the ring back, digs around in his pocket, and fishes out a couple of guitar picks. “Here. Take one.”
One of them has a picture of Jagged Stone’s face. The other has a Kitty Section logo, crudely painted on with some of Juleka’s old nail polish. Marinette takes the first one almost instantly with another sniffle, examining it from all sides. “He’s… my favorite.”
“Yeah.” Luka smiles, not minding that she can’t see it, and thinks of the album cover. “Mine, too.”
She runs her thumb over the faces and edges, blinking away whatever tears threaten to stick around. “Why?” she asks again.
“To prove it.” He tilts his head. “To prove I’m not going.”
She turns the pick this way and that, but doesn’t put it away just yet. Instead, her eyes drift toward his guitar and the amp, and then up to him. “Hey,” she says. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”
“I know,” he tells her. “I won’t tell Jules about any of this. And I won’t make you talk to her if you don’t want to.” And I’ll stay. I swear to God I’ll stay.
“Not that.” Marinette presses her lips together, still sitting on her knees. Still holding on to the pick for dear life. “Can you play it again?”
“What, the song from your playlist?”
“Me.” She looks away, her cheeks flushed and blotchy. “Can you play me. Again.”
Luka’s heart picks up, so loud he can barely hear anything else. Even her. “Yeah,” he says, setting his guitar in his lap, “Yeah, I think I got it this time.”
i guess it’s eleven now.
#miraculous ladybug#lukanette#luka couffaine#marinette dupain cheng#fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass#ah.............. emotions.
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Lord (Tom Riddle x Reader)
Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader
Warnings: NSFW, bath sex, dirty, spanking, a bit size kink, lord kink?, Tom Riddle can feel in this
The water was hot, steaming up into the prefects bathing chambers as petals of fragrant flowers floated around in the bath. Your fingers laced through your hair, detangling any knots that might have accumulated during the stressfull day.
Today had been especially annoying. While you had all your hands full with studying for your final exams, you also had to go after the duty of being headgirl, organizing things, patroling around school late at night and punishing students. While you loved carrying the power and authority over other students, you sometimes wished you were some unimportant Slytherin Girl, going about her day.
Sighing, you tipped your head back and rinsed out the conditioning oils in your hair, shaking them out in the waters, and you froze when the bath chamber doors opened. The steam in the room was extremely thick from the large bath, but through the steam, you could see the form of Tom Marvolo Riddle, your fellow comrade and headboy, your best friend. The Boy you were in love with.
Very well.
When he spied you, his eyes went a bit wide.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the bath was occupied.”
You were ducked into the water, only your nose and upper face revealed. You murmured softly.
“That’s okay. I admit that I’ve been in here far longer than i should.”
Tom’s eyes softened, rising up from the floor to meet yours.
“That bad of a day?”
You looked down, not daring to meet his beautiful eyes.
He spoke again: “Darling you know I’m here for you. Do you want to talk?”
You slowly shook your head, “No, I’d rather just forget about everything”
“Very well then”, he said, turning back to the door. “You know where to find me, if you wish to talk then”
“No wait! You don’t have to go! I mean, these….these chambers are yours too, are they not?” You blurted out, cheeks reddening intensly.
Tom looked back at you, surprised, before humming. Slowly he shed the pieces of his uniform, leaving him bare. You were quick to avert your gaze, sitting back against the wall of the big bath. The sound of the water being displaced and stepped in erupted, and your face burned lightly as Tom walked to a far part of the bath as if to try and create a bit more privacy, and as he began to wash himself, you couldn’t help but look at him.
You Always felt drawn to this handsome young man. To your Intelligent and cunning, protective best friend. the one who stole your heart - along with your soul. You watched as he washed himself, his pale, tall but very muscular body. You studied every part of it, from his intense and broad shoulders, to his strong arms down to his hips, where the water prevented you from seeing more.
You were thankful for him.
He always looked out for you, eventhough he tended to become very possessive. While he did everything out of his way, to make you happy, he also prevented other people from getting too close to you. He always said, that he doesn’t want you to get hurt, or bullied, ‘cause most students were jealous of you, your looks, your reputation and your achievments. He cared about you, he Always says. Way too much than he’d like to admit.
It was a miracle you became this close, really. While you were normally a rather outgoing, joyful person, he was the smart kid that always kept to himself and avoided social contacts. Until the day you were paired up to go on Prefect’s Patrol, where you started to talk and got to know each other. You both realized how much alike you really were. Despite never having met each other before, you also shared the same beliefs abot mudbloods and the value of pure magical blood. Ever since that day you were insaperable.
Tom’s hands cupped the bath water, bringing it up to his chest and rubbing the water into his skin. The soap that he was using was a sweet and almost citrus smell, reminding you of crème and oranges. Then he asked you,
“Do you often stare at those who come to bathe with you?”
You replied cheekily, though your ears burned heavily afterwards.
“Only the very handsome ones.”
Tom turned his head to look at you, his eyes intense, and he asked you, his voice sounding a bit deeper.
“You say that as if you’ve bathed with males before.” Now his possessive side came out. You were his, His only.
“No, you’d be the first.”
Tom’s eyes went darker, a smirk making it’s way onto his face and you turned your eyes away, closing them as you sat deeper in the water, your lips concealed in the water. The smell of his soap wafted into your nostrils, and water splashed, indicating that he was washing the soap from his chest. Your eyes dared to trail back to him, and you blushed when he was already staring at you. His gaze was haughty, almost proud, as he stood before you, and he dared to speak again.
“I do not believe our relationship allows us to bathe together, although i have to say, i don’t mind it at all”
You replied softly, admitting.
“Not yet, no. But considering that I’m your most loyal follower and that I would give my life for you, my Lord, I think we already overstepped that border.”
You maintained eye contact as you spot a light flicker in his, a full smile now apparent on his face. Then you stared at the water and Tom asked you again, sounding closer and voice even deeper.
“You would give your life for me so readily? What of your family or your friends?”
You shook your head.
“I would give my life for you in a heartbeat, my lord. My loyalty to you does not stop where my life will end. The only thing in my dreadful life, full of mudbloods and muggles, that is dear to me-” you sucked in a deep breath, before Closing your eyes “- is you”.
Your eyes opened to see Tom a lot closer to you than before, and your face burned. Looking away from him, you swallowed thickly, and he seemed to smile at the small gesture of shyness
“Gaze upon your lord, my beautfiul dark queen.”
You could hear the command in his tone, and rather than disobey, you slowly looked up from the water to gaze upon him. Your eyes traveled from his navel, his abdominal muscles prominent as the vallies and grooves smoothed and deepened with each breath.
Your eyes trailed over his skin as water droplets fell and then trailed to his neck where it seemed flushed. When you gazed into his eyes, they were the darkest you had ever seen them.
Beautiful black blown pupils silently conveyed the need he was feeling for you.
Tom’s eyes grew soft as you stared at him, telling you with a pleading tone.
“Allow me to gaze upon you, my queen...”
You swallowed thickly before slowly standing before him, your arms crossed across your chest, and he came closer to you. His nose brushed against yours, his fingers running up your arms, and he whispered to you,
“Do not be shy, my lady…you will never shame me.”
Slowly, he guided your hands away from your chest. His lips pressed against yours slowly, as if he was savouring your taste, and Tom’s fingers trailed up your arms to cup your face. Tingles ran down your spine, and your hands came up to tangle in Tom’s thick black locks, making him groan as he kissed you. His tongue slid along your bottom lip, and your lips parted lightly. His thick tongue slipped into your mouth, brushing against your pink muscle and dominating your mouth.
His hands ran down your neck to your upper arms before sliding to the sides of your torso. His thumbs brushed against your hardening nipples, and you let out a shaky breath. His lips trailed down your neck, kissing your skin and sucking lightly. His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing lightly, and you sighed, your head falling back. Then Tom ducked down a bit, kissing the skin of your chest, and his teeth caught your flesh, nipping lightly and making you gasp softly.
His hands moved, coming around your body and moving down to your ass. Taking handfuls of each ass cheek, he squeezed strongly, bringing you closer to him. His hard cock brushed against your leg, and your eyes went wide lightly. Your hands came to his shoulders, gripping the hard muscle and skin, and Tom growled in your ear,
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…how long I have waited for you to be in my arms like this.”
Suddenly Tom lifted you into his strong arms, pressing you against the wall of the bath, and his cock rubbed between your warm folds, making you whimper lightly. His hips rolled against yours, rubbing his cock onto your clit over and over.
“How long I have waited to feel you like this...”
Slowly, his cock began to enter you, and you whimpered from the sheer size. You knew that he was quite big and that he was much stronger than his uniform let you see. He was a strong young man, not only physically. No. Also his magical power towered over everything there ever was.
He felt so much girthier than you had ever imagined in your dreams. He seemed to be around eight or nine inches, fat and healthy.
Tom hadn’t even gotten the head of his cock inside of you, and yet you already felt incredibly stretched. You winced, and he kissed your brow, whispering softly.
“Relax, my queen…we will take this slow.”
You nodded, and Tom slowly pushed his cock into you, pausing every so often to allow you to get used to the size of him. Finally, he was able to get all the way inside you. Merlin, you were so incredibly tight around him. In fact, Tom was sure that if he wasn’t careful enough, he would break you.
Such a beautiful, fragile little girl. All mine. To use, To cherish. To love, he thought.
Your mouth was agape, your fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, and Tom was gripping your waist tightly. He was breathing deeply, taking deep and calming breaths so he wouldn't just start ravishing you, and then he asked softly.
“Are you alright?”
You nodded, and Tom slowly began to move. Every thrust had you breathless and while it hurt for a moment, it began to feel absolutely heavenly the more he thrusted. He filled every single crevice, every single nook and cranny inside of you. You could feel the veins of his cock pulsing as he tried to hold back for you, and your legs wrapped around his waist, hooking at the ankles and your hands tangled in his hair.
“My lord,”
You whimpered to him as he slowly thrust into you, and Tom let out a rumble from deep within his chest. You whispered softly to him, pleading as you felt his cock go in and out of you so deliciously.
“Please do not hold back on me, my lord. I may be a simple little witch, but I can take you.”
There was a challenge in your voice that did not go unheard and Tom shook his head in restraint, growling deeply.
“I will not hurt you, my lady. I cannot hurt my Queen.”
You whispered against his lips, your tongue dipping out to swipe over them.
“What if I want you to, my dark lord? What if I want you take me as I am…claim me as yours for all to see…take me, Tom.”
Tom’s hands gripped your waist tightly, and he growled to you, giving you an experimental rough thrust that made you see stars.
“You are walking on a dangerous path my (Y/n)”, he grunted.
“I’d do anything for you, my Lord”
Your lips came to his, claiming them for your own, and Tom growled deeply into your lips before thrusting his hips deeper into your own. You cried out from the unexpected feeling of him fucking you so deliciously, gripping Tom’s broad shoulders as he began to roughly fuck you. His skin was hot, one of his hands coming up to grasp the back of your head and hold you to his warm body. His cock was pounding into you, stretching and stretching you, and you swore his cock was pounding into your Cervix.
Tom was groaning, grunting, and growling as he fucked you, and your teeth dug into the skin of his shoulder. He gasped before his hand came down and through the water, spanking your ass. You gave a cry though you didn’t let go of his skin.
Suddenly Tom moved you up and onto the steps of the bath chamber, lying you down. He slipped out of you, and you whimpered from the empty feeling. Then he flipped you on your belly, his mouth almost unhinging from the sight of your throbbing wet pussy. Wet, pulsating, almost gaping, it was delicious. Tom slowly slipped back into you with slight resistance, but in no time he was back to fucking you. Unrestrained, Tom fucked you with a hard roughness, smacking his hips into yours and spanking your ass every few thrusts.
“How does it feel to be properly taken and marked by your lord?”,
Tom growled to you, keeping your hips on the tile floor beneath you by pinning you down by the small of your back, his other hand rubbing the red flesh of your ass cheek before spanking you again. Your hands were pressed flat against the floor, your cheek pressed into the tile and you were moaning at each thrust, each move of his hips. You whimpered out, eyes squeezing shut and your fists clenching.
“So good…so good, my lord!”
Tom growled deeply, leaning down and biting the flesh of your shoulder blade. You whimpered again, and he hissed into your ear.
“That’s right. You’re mine…nobody else will have you the way I do. They will not touch you, breathe in your smell, or look at you…my most precious queen.”
You cried out, your walls beginning to tremble around him, and Tom moaned deeply. His thrusts began to falter, and your walls clamped down around him, your pleasured cries echoing through the bathing chamber, as you came. You squirted all over him. He mumbled your name, and he came deep inside of you, his warm fertile seed filling your belly. You felt so incredibly full as Tom emptied himself inside of you, your body twitching, and his forehead came to rest between your shoulder blades.
“Are you alright?”
You nodded tiredly, mumbling softly in exhaustion.
“Yes, my lord…a little tired, if I may be honest.”
Tom chuckled lightly, a little exhausted himself. Slipping out of you, his cum spilled from your spent pussy, and Tom swallowed thickly. Gently, he pulled you up into his arms, leading you back into the hot water to clean you up before he picked you up.
Grabbing a soft towel, Tom wrapped you up, and you grunted lightly,
“Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday. I don’t think I’d be able to move and walk aynwhere”, you remarked cheekily, your face lighting up in a bright pink hue.
Tom grinned to himself and replied,
“Don’t worry my queen. We’ll spend the weekend in my private Chambers, only the two of us.”
There was a suggestion in his voice that you did not miss, and you hummed.
“Then I suppose we should put a silencing spell on your room, my lord.”
Slowly you both got dressed, while sharing sweet kisses and words. Before you could put your top back on, Tom already came over with his school Sweater, dressed in his white button up.
“Arms up, beautiful”, he said and you did as you were told, before you were enfulged in the warmth and smell of his sweater. He lightly grabbed your face in both his hands, kissing you slowly and passionately. Then Tom looked at you saying,
“You know, now our relationship allows things like that more often my queen.”
You looked up at him, lying your hand over his, still on your cheek.
“Yes it does”.
You giggled as Tom picked you up bridal style.
He laughed with you before both of you went to his private headboy chambers, where he set you on his bed, wrapping his blankets around you after undressing and kissing you deeply. You hummed against him and whispered.
“Come into bed with me, my lord…let your queen sleep within your arms.”
Tom’s heart swelled and he climbed into the bed, gathering you up within his strong arms. The last Thing you heard before slipping into the world of dreams,
“I love you, (Y/N)”
My queen.
#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x you#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle imagines#voldemort#voldemort x reader#tom riddle smut#tom riddle lemon#young voldemort x reader#x reader#reader insert#harry potter#harry potter imagine#smut#fluff#tom riddle fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
❥, ‡ and maybe ⌘? with clintnat if you can! adore your writing!! ☺️💜
@scarlettjohanssones I appreciate your kind words and patience whilst getting this one together. This is wayyy wayyyy softer than a lot of what I write (and it seems fatigue is featuring.. let’s not delve too much into that or that I may be projecting). As with all the one shots, it’ll be here. Warnings for nightmares and nightmare imagery; it’s the first paragraph under the cut if you wanted to skip (but it’s fluffy I swear). Thanks for the prompts!
Bath
Being picked up
Barefoot sleepy wanderings
—————
Clint’s dead on his feet. All he wants is to slide into bed, he doesn’t even care if it’s fully dressed or naked.
Everything seems like an effort.
The mission in Sierra Leone was just long. Freetown was lovely and the people so accommodating to an English speaker but he’d found his contact dead and that just does something to add to the fatigue he’s feeling. Failure of missions leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
Breaching his doorway, he smells the strong flavour of roast chicken and potatoes and smiles.
Natasha is or was here.
He calls out to her, hoping for the former and that she’s still awake, as he glances at his watch, 12am. Not late, not early. The thought rejuvenates him as he picks up a lukewarm potato from the oven, stuffs it in his mouth and scours the apartment.
Walking into the bathroom he finds her in the bath, seemingly asleep, lights on low and the aroma of lavender mixing with the warmth of dinner. God he’d missed this, missed her.
He says her name again, reverently and quietly, not wanting to scare her, but the tiny smile that breaches her lips, lets him know that she’s heard him, probably from the moment he stepped into the apartment.
“Hey,” he whispers, sitting next to the bath, dipping his fingers into the water, skimming them across the surface, picking up the bubbles.
“Hey.” She whispers back, eyes still closed, face more serious. “Dinner’s there if you’re hungry.” She tells him, voice gravelly.
“Thanks. You ok?” He knows she only takes baths if there’s something on her mind or if she needs the complete black out, weightless feeling that only a bath can provide.
“Yeah. Tired.”
Clint nods. “Me too.”
She looks up at him then, hand reaching up for his.
“Bed?”
“I think so.”
Clint helps her to stand, grabs a towel from the bench and wraps it gently around her body, frowns at scar that spans from her navel to her hip, as he remembers her telling him that particular red room story.
She notices him staring, and lifts his chin to her eyes. “Stop.” She commands, softly kissing him, and drying herself before pulling on pants and a top. She shakes her head and leads him out to the bedroom, pausing in the kitchen and asking again if he’s hungry.
“Just bed.” He murmurs, fatigue sneaking past his defenses as he yawns again.
Natasha checks her phone, puts it on charge and crawls beneath the sheets, watching as Clint changes into shorts and tshirt and climbs in with her.
“Glad you’re home.” She says, eyes closed, body curled in a ball.
“Yeah, me too.” He replies eyes closing and feeling her cold feet pressed into his bare legs.
“Night Nat.”
He’s met with a grunt and what he thinks is a good night, but he’s asleep before he can process anything.
.
He’s watching Natasha as she’s strapped to plinth, there’s a vague smell around him, and knives glinting in his peripheral vision, he’s voiceless as they cut into her stomach; trailing the knife to her hip, blood black coming from her as he tries to stand, his body heavy and non responsive. He can see her face contort in pain but no sound comes from her, there’s no sound anywhere. He looks around and down to his hands, finds his hands oozing with black blood, her blood, all over them.
It’s her cold hands on his face that wake him, brought out of dreams and in into reality.
“Wake up.” He hears her say firmly.
He’s out of bed and walking to the bathroom, leaving her sitting upright in bed.
Clint splashes water on his face, needing a moment before facing her concern.
He makes himself take a deep breath, then another, and he’s more under control when he feels her walk up behind him, gently taking his hand and leading him back to bed. He diligently follows her footsteps allowing himself to be put back to bed like a child.
“Bad dreams?” She asks, knowing already.
He’s too tired, too out of it, to open up. He does lift her top and trace his fingers over her scar, watching as she shudders. He repeats the motion feeling the bumps and grooves, finding it soothing and reassuring that she’s not there.
“Dreams are strange,” he murmurs.
Natasha covers his hand in hers, stopping the action.
“Yeah,” she says, pulling him closer.
.
He wakes slowly, bed cold when he stretches his arms and legs , shivering a little as he reaches for his phone.
Natasha must have put it on charge at some point.
Natasha, who is not in bed with him.
He looks around the room, and sees her on the couch, asleep. She looks small and tired even in rest. He wonders how terribly he must have slept to push her out of bed and feels guilt stir in the pit of his stomach.
Rolling out of bed, he moves towards her, she doesn’t wake as he stands over her, but rouses as he picks her up gently.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers in her ear, nuzzling her gently, as he carries her back to their bed.
Clint lays next to her, curling his body around hers protectively, sighing softly not wanting to close his eyes for fear of waking her again. He watches reverently, as her chest rises and falls, his mind flashing to his dreams and nightmares.
Now wide awake, he has no chance of going back to sleep, glancing at the clock as it flips from 8.02 to 8.03. They have a meeting at 9 but he’s loathe to wake her. Clint slides out from the bed, turns on the heater and heads to the kitchen. He starts breakfast and hopes that the aroma wakes her before he has to. He starts with cutting fruit, putting on soft music, that calms his rabbiting heart.
.
Natasha wakes to warmth.
She smiles knowing there’s only one that she could let her guard down enough to sleep and be moved. She can hear him in the kitchen and slowly makes her way there.
“Breakfast,” Clint says, glancing at her. She hugs him from behind and presses kisses to his neck.
“You okay?” She whispers.
He nods his head. He is. He’s not lying, it’s better now; with her, in this calm.
“Let’s eat.” He replies softly.
.
#clintasha#clintasha fic#clint barton/natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff#black widow#clint barton#hawkeye#my fic#clint/nat fic#nightmares cw
33 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thestrawberryjello-blog
teeny.
theriftbench154
Bench154
aliensaresupergay
jake
fragrancemalluk
Fragrancemall is an Online Luxury Perfume Shope.
advisinghat56
Title