#FORGET WHAT I SAID ABOUT HAVING ENOUGH VEHICLES
Text
This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played
steddie | G | WC: 1154
---
“Hey baby, can you?”
“No.”
Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”
“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”
“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”
“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.
“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”
He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”
“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.
“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.
“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”
He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”
“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”
It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.
“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”
“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”
“You aren't on speaker.”
“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”
“I don't recall.”
“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”
“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”
“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”
“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”
“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”
The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.
“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”
“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”
It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”
The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”
That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”
The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”
“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”
“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.
“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”
“Aspen, thank you really!”
Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
A Simple Misunderstanding
Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader
Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)
Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡
It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.
Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.
This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.
Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.
Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.
As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.
He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.
The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.
“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.
Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.
“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.
So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.
The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.
Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.
As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.
"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.
"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.
"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.
"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."
"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.
"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"
You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.
"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"
Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.
"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.
"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.
"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.
"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.
"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.
"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.
"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.
"I didn't stutter did I?"
"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.
The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.
Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.
“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.
Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"
"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.
"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.
"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.
"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.
Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.
"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.
After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"
You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"
"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.
You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"
"A little of both." He said.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.
"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.
You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.
"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.
"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.
You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.
"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.
Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.
"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.
"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.
"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"
You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"
"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"
You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.
"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.
"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."
"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.
"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.
Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.
You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.
"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.
"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.
"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.
"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.
"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.
"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.
"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.
"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"
"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.
“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.
"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.
"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."
"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.
"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.
"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.
Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies
If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x you#the boys#the boys imagine#the boys one shot#ben x you#ben x reader#reader insert#female reader#the boys amazon
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Who Are You Again?
Based on the following ask: I had another plot thought! Aaron x BAU Reader (female or gender neutral) where Reader disobeys an order to save a victim and gets hurt really bad. Reader wakes up in the hospital to Aaron who is angry at first but then is shocked when it turns out that Reader has retrograde amnesia from the injury. Reader has forgotten their entire career in the BAU and even that They and Aaron were secretly dating! Last thing Reader actually remembers was attending a lecture in college where Aaron was a guest speaker and Reader developed a crush on him! Now Aaron has to carefully navigate helping Reader recover without outing their relationship to anyone else. Or maybe he wonders if it's better they forget? But for a HEA ending definitely Aaron doing something romantic sparks a memory and helps everything come flooding back. @nyxwolph thank you for requesting again and trusting me with your ideas! – I did have to change things up a bit (I struggled big time with this one)
Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader
Angst/Fluff
Word count: 5336
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap, some language, BAU canon typical violence, mention of parent death, mention of kidnapping, mention of Haley and Jack, secret relationship, let me know if I missed any!!
That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.
“In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.” Essentially, something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings could cause something as catastrophic as a tornado.
Aaron wondered what small event happened that led to this moment right now. A moment that would change the trajectory of your lives forever.
*36 hours earlier*
“Garcia has the unsubs location; he’s headed down a backroad just east of the 95.” Aaron said.
“He’s devolving, he’s probably going to try and dispose of his latest victim.” Morgan chimed in.
“Not if we have anything to do with it.” JJ replied.
“His location is being shared with you all, everyone be safe, at this point he’s going to be willing to do anything to avoid prison.” Hotch added.
“I’m close by, I am going to go try and cut him off.” You suggested.
The team expressed their worry and care and urged you to be careful. The only thing you had on your mind, however, was saving the five-year-old boy this unsub had hidden. You drove as fast as your vehicle would allow, you had to get to the unsub. You had to save that boy.
As you got closer to the location Garcia had shared, you could see the dust trail the unsubs car was leaving down the road. You thought about your options, and you made a snap decision. Drive on, no matter the consequences – take out the unsub’s car. So that’s what you did.
You drove forward and your car t-boned the unsubs, only you hadn’t considered that he’d be driving a semi tractor. Upon impact, your SUV was crushed, in your rush to get to the unsub you’d forgotten to put on your seatbelt and your body was ejected through the windshield.
The accident was enough to stop the unsub long enough for the team to arrive. As they surveyed the scene, Aaron’s stomach dropped. He immediately began barking orders, demanding medics, and sending agents to the unsubs’ farm to find the boy. Throughout everything he refused to leave your side.
*Present Day*
“Sir, we had to place her in a medically induced coma to allow the swelling in her brain to go down.” The doctor explained.
“Is there an estimate as to how long it’ll be until she wakes up?” Aaron asked.
“With these kinds of injuries, it’s hard to say. The brain is a tricky thing, and no two injuries are alike. We just have to wait and see.”
“Thank you.” Aaron said, shaking the doctor’s hand.
Your doctor made her exit and Aaron moved to the seat beside your bed. He gently took your hand in his own placing a kiss to the back of it before returning it to your side. Aaron had thought back to the night everything changed.
*One year earlier*
“Hey Hotch, here’s that report you asked for. You aren’t staying are you?” You asked, glancing at your watch.
“Thanks, and yeah I had a few things I needed to finish up.”
You made your way over to Aaron’s couch, dropped your bag to the floor, and shrugged your jacket off. You pulled your phone out to see what was still open for delivery in the area. Aaron and you had shared many nights like this, spending late nights together in his office. The two of you had grown very close over the years, so much so that David had outright asked Aaron if you two were dating. To which Aaron let out an awkward chuckle and denied the accusation. If only he knew.
“What are you doing? You should head home.” Aaron said.
“Well, you should too, and you aren’t, so I guess that means we’re ordering dinner.” You smiled at him.
“I love you.” Aaron said simply.
“What?” You were stunned.
“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I didn’t – I um….”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Aaron made his way over to you, gently caressed your face and kissed you. It was everything you had ever imagined. There had been this tension between the two of you over the last two years and it was all finally coming together.
After that night, Aaron and you had agreed to keep your relationship under wraps, to avoid any potential disruption to the team, but also any question as to your position on the team. Aaron didn’t want anyone to question the fact that it was your skills and resume alone that got you to where you are.
Yours and Aaron’s relationship blossomed after that night, but not without hardships. Aaron and you faced a lot of adversity in multiple aspects of your relationship; you had a hard time trusting people, Aaron had been self-conscious of your age gap, and you both couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t good enough for the other (not that either of you would bring it up).
*Present Day*
A tear fell from Aaron’s eye, he couldn’t fathom losing you. This was all part of the reason he didn’t want to get serious with someone after Haley, but then you came into his life. You’d come in and made yourself known with your kind eyes and witty charm; how could he not fall in love with you.
Aaron fell for you slowly then all at once, it came naturally, and he couldn’t help it. He knew that the team had their suspicions and honestly over the last year there had been some close calls, but you had ultimately maintained the secrecy of your relationship.
In this moment, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt and regret over the fact that he’d asked you to keep things quiet. Had he let the team in on your relationship, he could’ve done a better job at keeping you safe.
*2 Weeks Later*
Aaron had been by your side as much as possible over the last two weeks, which is exactly where he was when you started to stir. Aaron shot straight up in his seat, his hand quickly reaching for your own.
You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your throat, your body hurt so bad, and you felt very confused. You attempted to open your eyes but immediately regretted it – the bright fluorescents adding to the pounding in your head. As you blinked through the brightness of the room, you glanced over to your bedside, noticing a tall man seated there.
“What on earth were you thinking? Driving into the unsub like that, you could’ve been killed. Your actions were reckless and unacceptable.” The man scolded you.
You couldn’t find it in you to reply, your head was pounding. You brought your hand up to your forehead and gently press the heel of your palm into it, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure.
“Sweetheart hold on, I’ll go get your doctor.” A deep voice sounded from your bedside.
Before you could question the pet name, you heard the sound of his dress shoes clicking against the linoleum floors.
The man returned with your doctor; he dimmed the lights slightly on his way back to your bedside. He moved to grab your hand again, to which you shifted, wringing your hands nervously in your lap.
“Hello, I’m doctor Raynor. How are you feeling?”
“Like I was hit by a truck, what happened?” You questioned, giving your doctor and the man a once over.
You recognized the man; it was Special Agent Hotchner of the BAU. What was he doing here? What happened?
“Well, you were involved in an accident, can you tell me what you remember?” Dr. Raynor inquired.
“I um, well, I was leaving a lecture.” Your gaze shifted to Agent Hotchner “Your lecture actually, you were talking about MO’s. I guess the accident was after that?” You couldn’t help but notice Agent Hotchner’s expression faulter.
Your doctor looked over at Agent Hotchner and he shook his head. The two of them seemingly knew something you didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d just given the wrong answer in front of the class. Dr. Raynor had gone through the rest of your injuries with you, multiple lacerations that had required stitches, a few broken ribs, a broken wrist, and of course your TBI. Once she was done she gave you a somber look.
“Would you excuse us for just a moment? I am going to send in one of your nurses to check you over and I’ll be back in just a moment.” Dr. Raynor said.
“Oh, okay.”
Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner left your room, and you tried your best to listen to their conversation.
*Hotch’s POV*
She doesn’t remember me, well us. It’s like the last five years have just disappeared.
“Agent Hotchner, I gather that the lecture she’s referring to did not occur two weeks ago when she was brought in.”
“No, that lecture was nearly five years ago.” I explained.
“This would be a case of retrograde amnesia, if she’s lost recent memories.” Dr. Raynor replied.
“Will her memory return?”
“It’s hard to say.”
While Aaron was completely devastated, he couldn’t help the doubt that creeped into his mind, telling him “This is for the best”.
*Normal POV*
Dr. Raynor and Agent Hotchner looked extremely serious, and you started to feel nauseous. Something was obviously wrong. You watched as their conversation ceased and they made their way back into the room.
Something must have happened, why would Agent Hotchner be here.
“Alright, it would appear that due to the brain trauma you sustained in your accident, you are experiencing what we describe as retrograde amnesia. This is when you can’t recall memories from your past. Based on your most recent memory, it appears as if you’ve lost approximately five years.” Dr. Raynor explained.
“Five years? Five years of memories are just gone. I don’t understand. If that’s true then why are you here?” You asked gesturing to Agent Hotchner.
“Well, you work for the BAU. You have for about three years now.”
“I do? I – I, this is a lot. What does this mean? Have you called my emergency contact?” You asked.
“I uh – I am your emergency contact.” Agent Hotchner spoke up.
“What, why? It has always been my mom, I don’t understand.”
“I’m so sorry, your mom, she uh – she passed last year. That’s when you switched it over to me.” Agent Hotchner’s gaze shifted down to his shoes.
“She’s gone?” Your voice cracked.
“Okay, this has been quite a bit of information. The most important thing right now is getting healthy. We want to keep you here a little longer to continue monitoring the swelling in your brain. Once we’ve confirmed it has gone down, you’ll want to get back in your usual routine, that is the best shot at getting your memory back.” Dr. Raynor gently patted your leg.
“How am I meant to get back to my normal routine when I don’t know it? The one person I had, I just found out is dead.”
“Given that Agent Hotchner is your emergency contact, we would be able to release you into his care. For now, we just need to stay positive.” With that, Dr. Raynor made her exit.
“I know this is a lot, but the BAU, we’re like a family, that includes you. Each member of the team is going to be willing to do anything to help you throughout this process.” Agent Hotchner said.
Part of you knew you could trust him; he had kind eyes, and you knew he was genuine. However, the other part of you felt so hopeless, like a lost kid in a department store. How were you meant to go home with this man who you didn’t know.
*Five Days Later*
“Do you have everything?” Aaron asked.
He had been with you every day for the last five days. He had brought you some things from your apartment and asked you to call him Aaron for now while you were “getting to know him”. You had to admit, it had been pretty nice talking with him the last few days.
“I think so!” You looked over at him. “I know that I am meant to be staying with you, at least until I’m fully healed, but could we go to my apartment first? I’d like to see it and maybe go through some of my things?”
“Of course we can.” Aaron nodded, gesturing towards the door.
The drive to your place was filled with small talk, mostly you asking Aaron questions about the BAU and the time you’ve spent there. It felt weird asking the man who is technically your boss about your personal life.
When you arrived, Aaron made sure to open your door for you and carry your bag into your home. He led you inside and you couldn’t help but notice how comfortable he seemed in your place, like he’d been there before. Like he belonged there. You shook the thought from your mind.
“I got you a new phone, it’s all set up for you.” Aaron said handing you the device.
“Thanks! Were they able to back up the old one? I was hoping to go through old texts and pictures to gather some insight into my life. God that sounds weird.” You huffed out a breath.
“I have our technical analyst Penelope Garcia working on that for you.” Aaron informed you.
“That’s great, thank you.”
The truth was, Aaron didn’t have Garcia backing up your old phone, at least not yet. He knew that if he had brought it to her she would uncover all the private texts and photos that you two had shared over the last year. He didn’t want to risk everyone finding out about your relationship, especially now when he wasn’t sure what your future would hold.
Aaron watched you as you made your way around your apartment. You wandered slowly around letting your fingers graze the spines of books on your shelves, picture frames on the walls and tchotchkes that were strewn about your desk and shelves.
He so badly wanted to pull you into his arms, kiss your head and tell you that everything was going to be okay. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t just your boss. But he also thought about all the things that could go wrong if he told you. You could question your own ethics and fall into self-loathing with the thought that you’d potentially slept your way to the top – this was the furthest thing from the truth, but he knew you and the way your mind spiraled. He wondered if it would just be easier if he let you find yourself all on your own, to let this thing between you go and hope that maybe you’d find your way back to him again.
When he looked over to you once again, he saw that you had found a photo album. It was one he was very familiar with; Garcia had gotten it for you on your 1-year BAU anniversary and filled it halfway. Since then, you’d continue to add to it all the photos you’d taken with the team.
You hadn’t realized you were crying until a tear had fallen onto the picture you were currently examining. Your emotions were running high, looking through the album was so strange it felt like looking at a stranger and yet it was you in photo after photo looking happier than ever with these people you couldn’t remember.
You felt the couch dip beside you and Aaron gently rubbed his hand up and down your back.
“I can’t imagine how overwhelming this all must be. I know that I can’t understand but I am here for you and I’m happy to lend an ear if you want to talk about it.” Aaron quietly soothed you.
“Thank you so much Aaron. I just don’t know how to wrap my head around this being me but not remembering it. Clearly you all mean so much to me and yet I have no recollection of any of this.” You sobbed.
Aaron and you sat like that on your couch for a while. He gave you the time you needed to calm down, while holding you, whispering sweet nothings to you. You felt oddly comfortable there in his arms, your mind shifted to the thought that enjoying the way his arms felt around you was also incredibly inappropriate given that he was your boss. At that thought you shifted slightly. You thought back to why you had signed up to audit Aaron’s lecture and while the main reason was the knowledge he’d lend you, a part of you allowed his looks to give you that final push in signing up.
“I should probably grab a few things so we can head out.” You whispered.
“Do you need any help?” Aaron asked.
“I should be okay, but I’ll let you know!”
Aaron drove the two of you back to his apartment, for the time being he had asked Jessica to keep Jack, this way you could adjust, and Jack also wouldn’t out your relationship. Aaron had his guest bedroom set up for you, he’d set it up with some of your favorite things. A lavender scented candle, extra pillows, a fluffy blanket, and he made sure to set a small trinket dish on the dresser, so you’d have a place to put your jewelry.
These of course were all things Aaron had previously had at his place for you. When you two had gotten increasingly more serious, he encouraged you to leave some stuff at his place and he’d gone as far as to supply some of your favorites around his home for you.
Aaron led you into his home and you couldn’t help but glance around, really taking in your surroundings. You couldn’t help but take note of a few things as he showed you around; there was a photo missing from the side table next to the couch (you could see the tiny bit of dust that must’ve collected around it), the pantry was stocked with quite a few of your favorite snacks, there was a pink coffee mug in the cabinet, and lastly, tucked under the shoe rack near the front door were a pair of fluffy gray slippers.
You couldn’t explain why, but there was a slight pang of jealousy in you as you thought of Aaron having a girlfriend. You knew you had no right to feel that way and it would be incredibly inappropriate, but it was a gut reaction.
*One Week Later*
Aaron and you had fallen into a weird sort of routine, it started to feel a lot like the 50’s, you making dinner and cleaning while he worked. You were starting to get a bit stir crazy, which is exactly why you were so excited today. Garcia would be coming by to see you; she was bringing over a bunch of photos and videos of you with the team throughout the last three years.
It was a paperwork catch-up day for the BAU, so Aaron had given Penelope the go ahead to take a long lunch and spend some time with you. So, when a knock on the door rang through the apartment, you couldn’t help the burst of excitement that coursed its way through your veins.
“Hi Penelope!”
“Hey babe! How are you feeling?” She asked, giving you a look of concern.
“I’m feeling pretty good, you know, except for the missing five years of memories thing.” You let out a low chuckle.
“Oh goodness! Well, I’ve brought a ton of stuff that might help bring some stuff back. I read that sense of smell is the sense that links with memories the strongest so have a bunch of things for you to smell while you look at photos in hopes something will come back to you.”
“That sounds like a great idea!” You smiled at Penelope.
The next hour or so went by with Penelope showing you photos and videos along with passing you various items to smell in hopes of bringing back some of your memories. And while it wasn’t like a wave crashing over you, bringing all your memories back, it did bring some things back. You could remember the members of the BAU and some of their quirks, you remembered the feeling of being in the bullpen (thanks to the smell of some very burnt coffee). What you were struggling to regain was your emotional memories, you couldn’t quite pinpoint the relationships you had with anyone from the team.
“I am glad that this helped! I should probably get out of your hair though; I can tell you have headache.” Penelope
“Thank you Penelope, I really appreciate all of this!”
You led her to the door, and she reminded you to get some rest and to take it easy. She also suggested that you come by the BAU for lunch in the next week or so to see everyone. The team had been doing a good job of not overwhelming you and allowing you time to get back in the swing of things.
“Oh, Penelope before you go, did you get a chance to back up my old phone? Aaron said you were working on it.”
“Oh, hon. He must’ve forgotten to mention it, but I will get started on that right away! I’ll text you as soon as I’m done, okay? We will just be able to pull the backup and put it on your new phone!” She said pulling you into a tight hug, before making her exit.
Why would Aaron have lied to you about your old phone? Maybe Penelope was right, and it just slipped his mind, he had been dealing with a lot, taking care of you, and having you stay with him.
You hadn’t meant to snoop, honestly, but after having talked with Penelope, the feeling Aaron was hiding something from you was extremely prevalent. You decided to look around a bit, you know, while putting the laundry away. You needed to put the towels away in Aaron’s bathroom, you just happened to notice the second toothbrush in the holder, the dress hanging inside his closet (come on, the door was already open), the ring box tucked in his sock drawer, what shocked you the most were the photos in the hall closet. It was a photo of him and a tall brunette that had you spiraling, where was this woman? You had clearly been invading his space long enough and you couldn’t bear the thought of coming between him and this woman who was to be his fiancé.
You needed to get back to your life, and out of Aaron’s hair. You decided that you’d tell him that night over dinner, you were going to move back home.
“Hey, I’m home!” Aaron called.
“Hey, how was your day?” You asked.
Aaron explained that his day was good, and he asked you about your get together with Penelope as you finished up dinner. Aaron set the table as you followed behind him plating up the food.
“I’m glad to hear things went well with Penelope. I think lunch with the team is a great idea.”
“Aaron I’m gonna move back home.” The words flew out of your mouth faster than your brain could catch up. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to impose on your life any more than I already have.”
“It’s truly not an imposition, but if that’s what you want.” Aaron looked deflated.
“I just think it’s important we both get back to our usual every day.”
“If you think that’s best.”
You two ate in silence. Afterwards you both went to the kitchen, cleaned up the dishes and made your way to your separate rooms. You began packing up your belongings and Aaron scrolled through photos of the two of you from before the accident.
*Two Days Later*
“Good morning gorgeous!!! I am calling to inform you that the backup from your old phone is ready, and I also think it is the perfect day for you to come in and have lunch with everyone!” Penelope sang over the phone.
“Okay, what time should I come down there?”
“Ummm maybe around 12:30? Everyone is usually ready to eat by then. I can call and order in something too!”
“Oh, and uh Pen, I don’t know the address, and I’m not cleared to drive.” You said shyly.
“Oh shoot, okay! I’ll see who is available to come and pick you up, no worries.” Penelope reassured you.
You took some time getting ready, most of the team hadn’t seen you since before the injuries, and while the cuts and bruises have faded and scarred, you still had a very broken wrist and frequent headaches, along with PTSD and anxiety attacks thanks to the TBI. You felt like you had been doing well, and based on your recent check-up with your neurologist, things are trending up in regard to your health. Though you began to worry that the worst had yet to come.
A knock on your door shook you out of your thoughts, as you made your way to answer it, you wondered who Penelope sent to get you. Pulling the door open revealed someone you were hoping you wouldn’t see so soon.
“Hi Aaron.”
“Hello, were going to go pick up the food on the way back to the BAU, if that’s okay.” Aaron explained.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded.
The drive was filled with tense silence. You couldn’t help but wonder why Aaron would harbor any negative feelings towards you. You’d only moved out of his apartment so he could get back on to his life, if anything he should be grateful that you’ve gone home. One of the main reasons you’d really decided to go home was because of the fact that you were growing far too comfortable.
Things at Aaron’s house were starting to feel right, like it was where you belong. You had no idea how you had been able to work with him over the last few years, the crush you had on him all those years ago had only proven to grow stronger.
“I’ll run in and grab the food.” Aaron said, pulling you out of your thoughts.
Before you could reply, he stepped out of the car and made his way into the restaurant.
Aaron got you signed in with a visitor’s badge (as you weren’t cleared to work) and then he led you up to the sixth floor, BAU bullpen. Upon walking in, you felt an odd sense of familiarity. You knew that it would make sense for the BAU to bring memories back and that you would have muscle memory to help lead you through the building, but it felt very strange.
You looked over at Aaron, “I need to go see Garcia, do you mind pointing me in the right direction?”
“Of course, her office is that way. Second door on the right.”
“Thanks.” You smiled.
You wandered through the corridor, catching a glimpse of Garcia through her open door. You lightly knocked on her door and walked into her office.
“Oh! Hello gorgeous!” Garcia squealed, standing, and pulling you into a hug.
“Hey Pen!”
“Let’s get your phone squared away and then we will go eat.”
You handed your phone over to Penelope and she began downloading the last backup from your old phone.
“This should only take a few minutes.”
Penelope and you made idle chit chat for a few moments while waiting on your phone. When it finished uploading, she unplugged it and handed it to you. The two of you then made your way to the bullpen.
Lunch with the BAU was overwhelming to say the least. It was fun talking to everyone, but you could tell everyone was walking on eggshells and you could see the pity flash behind their eyes as you sat and explained your lack of memories with the people sitting before you.
After lunch, Aaron let everyone leave early. It had been a paperwork day and the team had been very productive. He told them all to go home, but of course to leave their phones on, just in case they had to leave. Emily offered to drive you home, given the close proximity of your apartments.
When you got home, you changed into some comfortable clothes and sat on the couch. You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone. There were two things you noticed while going through everything, the first being a significant number of photos saved and the second being the texts exchanged between you and your boss.
You decided to go through the photos first. There were plenty of you with the various members of the BAU, but what caught your attention was one image in particular, in it, you were laid in bed with your head resting on a man’s chest…the man being none other than Aaron.
You quickly switched over to your messages app. Clicking Aaron’s name, you saw the most recent text…
“Be careful sweetheart. I love you.”
Your mind was racing, what were you meant to think, why would he keep this from you? Was the ring meant for you? You needed to see him.
You ordered an Uber and made your way to the FBI building. You signed in, getting a visitors’ badge and headed up to the sixth floor.
“Aaron” You called out into the bullpen.
“Is everything okay? What are you doing here?” Aaron asked as he walked out of his office.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Aaron questioned.
“That we were together.”
You gestured to your phone. Aaron dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking back to you. You could see the pain behind his eyes.
“Sweetheart, we had been keeping it a secret, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that maybe you’d be better off. I figured you might find someone more appropriate for you.”
“That wasn’t a choice for you to make. Aaron things have been confusing enough, losing my memory. But to have you lying to me, it’s total bullshit. How am I supposed to get my memories back if you are keeping such a big part of me a secret.” You couldn’t help the frustrated tears from slipping down your cheek.
Aaron reached for you and let his thumb brush the tear off your cheek. He stepped closer to you and brought his other hand to your cheek.
“I am so sorry. I should’ve told you from the get-go, I was scared. I thought that maybe I would tell you and you’d have to get to know me again and maybe you wouldn’t love me the way you did before. I also couldn’t help but think that I don’t deserve you and this was your perfect out. But that was selfish, I should’ve told you the truth.”
You leaned your head onto Aaron’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and then he pulled back.
“Can I show you something?” Aaron asked.
You nodded and followed him to his office. Aaron led you around his desk and gestured for you to sit in his chair. He pointed to his computer screen, and you took note of the screen saver. It was a slideshow of pictures taken throughout your relationship, there were pictures of you at the FBI Gala, Jack’s soccer game, art museums, at Aaron’s home, at your apartment, etc..
It happened slowly, then all at once. A warm feeling flooded your veins, and a dull ache filled your head. Tears were steadily streaming down your face. You looked up at Aaron, and he met your gaze. A moment was shared before understanding washed over Aaron.
“I remember.”
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#hotch#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x reader#ssa aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron x reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch x y/n#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#spencer reid#david rossi#derek morgan#jennifer jareau#criminal minds fandom#thomas gibson#jack hotchner#jessica brooks#haley brooks#haley hotchner#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you
484 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jason was cursed. That was all he really knew.
Stalking through the shadows was second nature to him thankfully. He didn't know how the others would react if they saw him like this but he needed help to reverse whatever this was.
Maybe if he took out some criminals the other bats would realize he wasn't exactly what he seemed and prompt an investigation. Luckily for him there was an armored vehicle being robbed nearby.
He enjoyed the screams of terror let out by the two remaining robbers once they spotted him. Taking out the first few had been easy but now he needed to play with them until one of the other bats appeared. Jason was playfully dodged bullets, prompting one of the robbers to swear, "I was expecting sassy bats, not Tony the Tiger on steroids!"
"Forget the money man!" The other said as he rushed on top of a nearby dumpster "I don't wanna be eaten!"
Twack!
Dumpster guy went down with a thud as Red Robin landed nearby, bo staff at the ready. Great! Tim will probably notice the unconscious but very not dead people at Jason's feet...paws...and understand that Tigers don't just do that. Especially ones big enough to place a saddle on and ride like a horse.
Fortunately thats exactly what happened, unfortunately tim came to the assumption that Unnaturally large tiger + targeted attacks + enhanced intelligence = escaped animal experiment. It makes sense and Jason is mad he didn't think about it which lead to him having to run from Tim as his little brother tries to sedate him from a distance so he can take the giant tiger to the zoo.
A zoo! They were actually going to put him in a zoo! Jason whirled around, finding himself cornered by Tims gadgets and cunning, only for Tim to stop, appear confused and start looking for Jason even though he was right in front of him.
A tapping on his paw had him looking down.
There, next to the furry orange of his foot looked to be a liquid shadow with Lazarus green eyes. I can explain. The shadow said, but we need to get away from the bird first.
Once they were safe from the bats the shadow introduced himself as Phantom and revealed he had been cursed by the same person who cursed Jason and proposed they they worked together to remove thier curses and defeat the person who did this to them.
Jason had no objections and Phantoms powers were very useful, even if he was stuck as a liquid shadow. Jason's curse was difficult to break but they managed to get it halfway so where Jason could shift between man and beast like a werewolf, Phantoms wasn't so easy.
Phantoms curse actually removed parts of his spirit and embedded them into precious gems and jewelry across the globe. It sounded like a hassle but from what he gathered about Phanton was that he was a recently deceased teen and Jason wasn't about to just abandon him.
Aka Twilight Princess with a batpham twist
Also Damian is hellbent on adopting the rideable Tiger, much to Jason's mortification
#fanfiction prompts#prompts#danny phantom#robin#dp x dc#danny fenton#batman#tim drake#red robin#jason todd#red hood#tiger red hood#dadhood#danny is recently dead in this#baby ghost#jason is soooo adopting danny
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Beyond the Mask
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader
Tags: Minor injuries. Brief references of child abuse. Maskless Ghost.
Word Count: 5.5k
“You’re special to me.”
It wasn’t the first time that you had asked.
Every once in a while, you would make the same request to Ghost. It was a request that he always took with ease and understanding of your curiosity. It was a seemingly simple ask, but mutually understood that it was much more important than it seemed.
“Can you please take off the mask?”
But it was a request that he politely declined every time.
“No, love.”
You weren’t the only one who had poked at Ghost to show his face (and been turned down). Just about everyone that Ghost interacted with on a regular basis had asked at one point or another. Soap was the most persistent of the bunch, and he seemed to try harder each time.
So, it wasn’t lost on Ghost that it was a lingering mystery just asking to be solved. He was aware of the fact that it was maddening, which is why he was so patient whenever people asked.
Ghost would admit that as time went on, he felt more and more guilty for turning down something that you wanted. If you wanted something, Ghost would do everything in his power to get it or do it for you. You were deserving of that, and he never wanted you to forget it. But taking off the mask was one thing that he just couldn’t bring himself to do.
He knew that it couldn’t last forever. If he wanted to go steady with you and move into the long term future (which he most certainly did want to do), then the mask was going to have to come off at some point. He wouldn’t want you to commit to something like that without even knowing what he looked like. It was inevitably going to come up time and time again, and eventually he would have to give in.
“Easy, Gecko. Take a load off.” Ghost said, ushering you into the lone bedroom of the safe house.
The stifled groans and muffled whimpers were a sure sign of the discomfort you were in. Each little noise stung Ghost’s heart more and more each time.
“I look and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” You coughed, hobbling into the room quite pathetically.
“That’s because you were hit by a truck.” Ghost said, dropping all of your gear in the corner of the room that he had carried in for you.
“Good point.” You laughed, carefully lowering yourself onto the edge of the bed.
You found humor in the situation, but Ghost hardly found it amusing at all.
It felt like more of a…firm bump rather than an actual hard, physical collision. The truck hadn’t been going nearly as fast as it could’ve been, and the front bumper had really only grazed one side of your body. Still, getting hit by a moving vehicle was bound to cause some damage, and the ever growing bruise on your side was proving that to you.
Despite the aching soreness and the discomfort, you had been checked and cleared thoroughly of any broken bones or other injuries. You were expected to be moving slow for the next few days, but it was a small price to pay considering that it could’ve been much worse.
Ghost was livid when it happened.
It was a rookie mistake – quite literally because it was a rookie who had made the mistake of almost running you over. Ghost had no idea who had the bright idea of letting a newbie tag along for this mission. This mission was predicted to take a couple weeks, and he couldn’t fathom how it was a good idea to let fresh blood in on such an important job.
It had completely been an accident. The team was waiting around for a bit before making the next move of the day when it happened. He had been extremely apologetic (once he actually had the chance to apologize) and nearly came to tears over it.
Nonetheless, you literally almost became roadkill because the amateur soldier wasn’t paying attention.
Ghost nearly lost his mind. You had barely enough time to even comprehend what had even happened before the soldier in question had been yanked from the driver’s seat and dragged by his collar for the chewing out of a lifetime. Soap had rushed over to help you to your feet, letting Ghost do all the scolding.
You weren’t sure what choice words Ghost had used with the rookie, but you could only imagine that he was close to seeing the light of the beyond by the time Ghost had said his piece.
You managed to make it through the rest of the day without any major issues, although you were much slower and it took the remainder of the day to completely regain your composure.
Ghost didn’t leave your side after that. He was half convinced that you were going to keel over and die instantly from some unforeseen complication. The rookie definitely kept his distance in the event that Ghost changed his mind about not killing him.
Ghost felt a little bit better when you finally were able to call it a day. He felt relief knowing that you had the opportunity to get some rest and give your recently rattled body a break.
“I should’ve choked him out.” Ghost growled, standing over you like the giant that he was.
He knelt on the floor to untie each of your boots, sliding them off of your fatigued feet. He stood back up, one of his massive hands came to the zipper on your jacket, sliding it down the length of your torso until it separated the outer layer completely.
“Ghost, he didn’t mean to do it,” You said, but smirked when you realized what he was doing. “I can undress myself, you know.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. He manually moved each of your arms one at a time to slip the jacket off of your frame.
“I know, but I don’t want you moving around too much. I also want to get a look at your side where you were hit.” He explained, motioning for you to carefully raise your arms above your head.
“Why?” You asked, wincing at the sting in your side when you raised your arms.
“Because you’ll lie and say that it’s ‘not that bad’.” He tossed your shirt aside once it was off, revealing your chest and torso.
He took a glance at your affected side that had already served as a canvas for a painting of nasty red, black, and purple. All the way from underneath your armpit down to the top of your hip was visibly roughed up.
“Just don’t want you to worry.” You squeaked when Ghost ran his hand along the area to check for any broken ribs once more.
“I know, baby.” He sighed, giving you the green-light once again for no major issues.
His nerves were settled once again, and he was suddenly aware of how peaceful the room was, and that he had a moment alone with you. The bedroom was cozy and didn’t have much to it. It was tucked away in the back of the safe house, away from the main living space where everyone else was camping out. The moon was shining through the window, casting beams of gentle light all through the room – just enough to be able to see you clearly. His hand cupped the side of your face, your head instinctively cradling into his palm as you made eye contact with him.
“You’re still my pretty girl.” His thumb dragged across your cheek.
“Even when I’m all beat up?” You giggled.
“Absolutely,” He remarked. “You’re still feeling okay, yeah?”
“Yeah, honey. Just tired.”
“Poor baby.” He purred, taking a seat next to you on the bed.
He raised the bottom of his balaclava just enough to where he could kiss you. His skull mask had been stashed away a while ago when he was tired of wearing it. His kisses were so much slower and tender when he was feeling worried about you…which was most of the time. When it came to you, Ghost tended to sweat the small stuff.
His grin matched yours when he felt it on the kiss. He had to admit, it was so easy to make you smile. He shifted on the mattress to get situated, leaning his tall frame against the back wall at the head of the bed.
“Easy, baby. Careful.” He jumped in surprise when you pounced on him, straddling him with a blinding grin on your face.
You hardly even noticed the pain in your side at all now. This was way more important to you.
“Kiss me again.” You whispered playfully, and he laughed.
“I’m trying, but I can’t have you roughing yourself up for a couple of kisses.” He said, his hands running over your breasts through the material of your bra that was still on.
“A couple of your kisses. Not just any.” You corrected.
“Mm. I might give some other places some attention.” He teased.
“Is that a promise?” You gasped.
“Only if you’re good.” He kissed you again, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted on top of his lap.
He loved moments like this. When you were on a mission (particularly the long ones), it could be a challenge to get to be with you alone. When you had a team around all the time (and Soap’s constant need to know what you and Ghost were up to), finding privacy could be nearly impossible.
A bedroom with a door that actually locked was like a lottery win for Ghost.
He was loving every second of this. It made him think about the next time that the two of you were going to be on leave and you could stay tangled up in his bed for as long as you wanted, wearing nothing but clean bed sheets and each other’s presence.
He kept a firm, yet cautious grip on your hips to keep you from going anywhere. Ghost loved it when you were this close to him because he could savor every part of you. He never took you for granted, but he surely cared enough to use these moments wisely.
But it didn’t take long for a recurring problem to come to the surface – making out with Simon could be difficult. There was a major barrier that always, without fail, got in the way.
You huffed when his balaclava slipped back down his face, denying you access from his lips. It was annoying to have to hold the fabric up with one hand and try to roam his chest with the other. This was usually the process: kiss, move the mask, kiss again, repeat.
Ghost often found it funny how irritated you would get with it, but tonight it felt more like a nuisance to him rather than you. Eventually you stopped, pulling away and letting the balaclava fall back down. Ghost looked at you, his eyes shining with knowingness of what was coming next.
“Can you please take the mask off?”
The famous question. Ghost’s most popular request.
“No, love.”
Usually, you left it at that. If Ghost flat out said no, then you normally wouldn’t push it. Tonight was different though. There was a stronger determination than normal. The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect. No one else was around to see, and Ghost knew that you would take the mystery of Ghost’s face to your grave.
“Please?” You tried again.
He chuckled, although it was more of a nervous laugh.
“I’m nothing special, doll. I’m just like everybody else.” He shrugged.
“You’re special to me.” You corrected him.
He released a heavy exhale that he didn’t even realize he was holding in. Ghost knew that your intentions weren’t anything malicious, and that they were based solely on pure curiosity. He didn’t blame you in the slightest. If he were in your shoes, he knew he would be the exact same way. The two of you spent so much time together, and the two of you shared many precious moments together. If he never got to see your face, then he would be itching to know what was underneath too.
Ghost was thankful that you hadn’t ever pushed him to show you his face. Upon meeting him, you knew the importance of the mask and the purpose that it served.
“You have seen my face before,” He grumbled. “If you so recall, you walked in on me.”
“That was an accident!” You wailed. “And it was literally for half a second because I turned away so fast. I don’t even remember what you look like.”
“Gecko…” He sighed, a hint of desperation in his tone. “You know I don’t show my face.”
“Ghosty.” You whined, using his nickname that always made his knees go weak.
“You’re really not missing anything.” He bantered, trying to hold his composure.
“Actually…” You hesitated for a moment, because you debated continuing. “I feel like I’m missing a lot.”
Making him feel guilty was never your intention. There was no excuse or good reason to make him feel bad about something that you knew was important to him. But that didn’t stop his stomach from rolling over inside of him the way that it did whenever he felt like he had done something to make you unhappy.
And he knew that you weren’t upset in the slightest, but he still couldn’t help but feel so, so terrible.
“I want to hold your face…I want to kiss you without the mask,” You went on, hoping that he would understand that you weren’t attacking him. “I want to see you.”
That tone in your voice. The whisper of someone that he adored so much was like hearing the song of the soul. He wouldn’t say no to that. How could he say no to that?
“Okay.” He gave a slow nod.
You withheld from making a shocked expression, but that didn’t stop your heart from hitting your shoes and recoiling into your throat.
“Okay…” You echoed, unsure of what he meant exactly.
“The mask can come off.”
Instant fireworks exploded in your nervous system. It was a premature celebration, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.
You had to admit – you were nervous. Certainly not as nervous as he was. You knew how important this was to him, and how strict he was about never, ever revealing his face to anybody. It was an urban legend in a way. The mysterious wonder of what the esteemed lieutenant looked like beneath the skull and the stone cold demeanor.
It was important for you to be conscious of the fact that your reaction was going to be critical. He was perfect to you already, and whatever he looked like certainly wouldn’t change that. But you knew how sensitive he was about this. Any kind of accidental twitch, blink, or show of a potentially sour expression would freak him out big time. You knew you needed to be as neutral as possible and be sure to be even more encouraging.
“Would you be more comfortable if I turn around while you take it off? Or do you want me to do it?” You asked, being absolutely sure that this went the way that he was most comfortable with.
He paused for a moment, his voice sounding even deeper than usual when he answered.
“You can do it.”
Chills rushed down your spine, translating into a physical shudder. This felt like you were about to discover the solution to world hunger. It felt surreal, as if this were breaking some foundational law of the universe.
Every motion felt overly voluntary. You tried your best to hide the slight tremble in your hands when you brought your hands to the area just below his chin. Your fingertips were nimble and careful when you slipped them underneath the fabric. Both sides of his lower jaw touched the pads of your fingers – it was a foreign feeling altogether.
This was the moment of truth. Should you whip it off quickly? Should you ease it off of him to give him some extra time to prepare? You didn’t want to ruin this for him because then he’d never show his face ever again. His hands didn’t dare move from your waist,
Slowly and carefully, you removed the mask from his face. Bit by bit was revealed to you – his lips, his nose, his cheeks. Each new feature that was shown was the next piece of putting the puzzle together. The rate of your heart grew quicker and quicker with each passing millisecond.
This wouldn’t change the way you felt about him. You had fallen for Ghost because of who he was, not what he looked like. In all honesty, you wanted Ghost to do this for himself rather than for you. You understood that Ghost didn’t quite see it this way, but this was your way of letting him know that he was safe with you. He didn’t need the mask to protect him from you.
When you made it to the space just below his eyes, you decided to do it like a band-aid. Get it off quick and lose the anticipation of it all. In a flash of a second, the mask was off and there was no turning back.
And there he was.
If it hadn’t been for your ribcage holding it in, you were sure that your heart would’ve exploded right out of your body.
He was looking at you with a fixed stare, terrified to look away or say a single word. He was reading and interpreting every minor, barely noticeable movement in your expression. His skin was glowing in the soft light casted from the moon outside. There was an anxious shine in his eyes, his dark irises were saying everything that his mouth couldn’t articulate. He was scared to death.
His balaclava was clutched in your hands as if it would disintegrate if you let go. His lifeline was in your hold, at your complete mercy. There wasn’t a thing that he could do. He couldn’t take this moment back even if he wanted to.
He needed you to say something. He couldn’t stand the feeling of all the focus being on him, and he couldn’t tell if he was correctly guessing at what you were thinking.
You were at a loss for words. This felt like a complete shift in the universe, like everything was different when it really wasn’t different at all. You were stuck trying to comprehend the fact that you were really looking at him – the real him.
And he was beautiful.
You weren’t surprised in the slightest. Even if you had no real way to know what he looked like, you knew from the moment you met him that he was good looking. Ghost himself had even made comments here and there that he considered himself to be rather attractive.
You didn’t understand it. How could someone so brave, strong, and (again) handsome want to shield himself away from the world? If there was anyone that could take on life with stride, it was Ghost. But there was a simple answer to that. It seemed to be the reason for all of the “odd” things and traits about him.
He wasn’t always like that.
He had to protect himself. There had never been anyone in his life at any point to do it for him. He never had the chance to be a kid. He had to grow up before he even had the chance to be excited about growing up.
His upbringing had everything to do with the mask and the reason that he wore it. It was his version of a security blanket. It was his protection from the evil of the outside world. Because he had learned at a young age that sometimes the worst evil that the world had to offer came from the ones right in front of you, and the ones that were supposed to love you the most.
“Simon…”
His name – his real name fell from your lips as a tender whisper. The words were laced with appreciation of his trust and absolute adoration for the revealed man standing in front of you. Of course you had said his name before. He had heard you say it plenty of times.
But he’d never heard you say it in this context, and he surely had never heard you say it when you were looking at the real him.
There was a moment of panic and discomfort for him. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was completely exposed. His most prized security measure had been stripped away – now useless due to its absence from his face. The air of the room felt cold on his skin, another reminder that he had given up his primary line of defense.
There were a million things that were running through his mind, but every single word was caught in his throat and released out into the air with each of his shaky exhales. There wasn’t a single thing that he knew to say. All he could do was watch you stare at him, raking over him and studying every aspect of his face.
“You’re so handsome, my love.” You spoke again, and the blood in his lower extremities ran boiling hot.
His heartbeat stalled for a beat or so when your hand came to his hair. The balaclava had rustled his hair when it brushed against it, but he hadn’t even noticed. Your fingers ran through his dark hair that was (admittedly) not as clean as it could’ve been. His hands were trembling against your hips, his fingertips drumming lightly against the waistband of your pants.
You seemed content to him, which eased his anxious nausea a little bit. The gentle, yet genuine smile on your face brought some comfort. Every sense of the feeling of you touching him felt heightened to the highest degree. He was aware of every strand of hair that ran through your fingers, every feather-like drag across his cheekbone with your knuckle.
It felt different for sure. He wasn’t used to someone touching that zone of his body. He definitely wasn’t accustomed to sharing it with someone, but he was thankful that you were being so considerate to how he was feeling.
“I…I don’t know what to say.” He finally spoke, his words coming out in a quavery way.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” You replied with a voice like silk, pressing a kiss to his forehead that sent a wave of electricity through his core. “I’m just looking at you.”
He almost laughed. That’s what made him so nervous.
This was definitely not something that he had counted on happening today. He always knew the moment would come, but he hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this. It was a weird feeling that he was having. Even though he was seeing you as the same as he always did, it still felt different. It felt more intimate, more authentic. The mask was resting in your lap, a place that he never expected his mask to end up.
“Pretty boy…” You drawled, cupping his face the same way that he had held yours just a few moments before.
His cheeks burned at that comment. A flush of hot crimson red infiltrated his face to the point where he was sure that you could feel it on your hand. He was exploding on the inside with a million emotions that he couldn’t pinpoint to save his life.
He was so beyond grateful for you. This was something that he had feared and dreaded for a long time, terrified that you would see him as something other than the image that he had worked so hard to create and maintain for himself. But he was beginning to realize the reality of the situation.
The truth was, you had always been able to see who he really was. That was something that was special about you. The mask only hid him from you in a physical way. There was never a time where you hadn’t seen the person inside of him, and never once had you held an ounce of resentment for who he really was.
He had always been Simon Riley to you.
So in reality, this wasn’t the first time that you were seeing him. This was just the first time that you were seeing the face that went with it.
“You think so?” He asked, his hands beginning to move from their cemented positions.
“Absolutely I do,” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re just buttering me up.” Simon cracked a smile, and your eyes brightened immediately.
“Oh! Look at that smile,” The intensity of your grin matched his. “Happiness looks beautiful on you.”
The words rang in his head and echoed out through his ears. Happiness felt even better than it looked. His most consistent and worthwhile source of that happiness was right in front of him, loving on him as if she thought he was the most perfect person in the world.
He couldn’t fathom how anyone could feel that way about him. He tried his best not to question it, and instead tried to appreciate it and reflect it back to you. He was grateful for you, and he did everything he could to remind you of that.
“I’m glad you think I’m ‘pretty’ and all,” He tucked his fingertips into the front of your waistband. “But I’ll never be as pretty as you.”
“Now you’re buttering me up,” You giggled.
You kissed him then. The first real kiss with nothing in the way. Oh, it was a wonderful kiss – and Simon made a mental note that, yeah, kissing without the mask was so, so much better. He wrapped his arms completely around you, smothering your frame against his. His nose brushed against yours with every head movement, and every little happy whimper from you swelled his heart more and more.
Simon pushed you onto your back, keeping you pinned between the mattress and his body. He kissed all over your neck and face to the point where you were breathless from all the giggles and squeaks that he was bringing out of you. When you were close to getting lightheaded, he pulled his head back to give you a break.
He couldn’t get over how you were looking at him. That look of adoration and care was healing his soul in ways he never thought he’d be able to achieve. There were certain things in life that Simon had accepted long ago that he would never get to experience…being cared for in the way that you cared for him was one of them. This was a dream come true and something he never would’ve counted on in a million years.
“I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m proud of you,” You brushed a stray hair from his forehead. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”
He felt a twinge of guilt. He really hadn’t done anything at all. You shouldn’t have to thank him for showing his face. The absolute bare minimum of existing as a human. But he knew that you understood why this was important, and that this really was something huge.
“I wouldn’t want to share it with anybody else.” He admitted.
He was so crazy about you. He wasn’t sure what he had done in his life to deserve you, but he would do it a million times over if it meant spending forever with you. If there was anyone in the world that he trusted enough to share this much of himself with, it was you.
“I think you need to get some sleep,” He remarked. “Need to rest that side.”
“I could stay right here all night.” You returned.
“I know,” He sat up, pulling you up with him. “But you need some sleep.”
Despite your protests, he arranged the bed to be most comfortable for you, encouraging you to properly get settled to get some shut eye. He grabbed his removed balaclava from the bed, keeping it ready to go when he returned to the front of the house where the rest of the team was.
“Are you comfortable?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed once you were all snuggled in.
“Yeah,” You yawned. “I’m good.”
“Alright, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed your forehead, standing to leave you be.
Just as he raised his hand to put the balaclava back on, he felt a force stop him in his tracks.
“No. Wait,” You grabbed his free hand, stopping him from walking away. “Please stay.”
The balaclava in his hand suddenly felt heavy, like an intuitive feeling telling him it wasn’t time to hide away again.
“Might I remind you that I’m nearly a giant,” He chuckled, referring to the bed that was just barely big enough. “You need rest, darling.”
“Please?”
That face. Those puppy eyes that he could never resist. In your defense, you did genuinely tend to sleep better when he was around — you felt more protected that way, and that was something he would never say no to.
So he obliged, setting the balaclava on the bedside table next to you, removing his boots and just his outer layers to make it at least semi-possible to fall asleep. He never really slept on missions (or at all), but if there was even the slightest chance that he could catch a few winks, then he would surely take it.
He was careful with his movements as he lowered into bed, being sure not to come down too hard with his giant frame and break something. The bed wasn’t the newest or the sturdiest in the world, and he already had reservations about how it would hold him. He chuckled when you snuggled up to him immediately, barely even giving him time to convince himself that the bed wouldn’t collapse underneath him.
As he had predicted, it was a bit of a squeeze, but that only gave you more reason to be all over him. He hadn’t realized how rundown he was until he was sunken into the mattress, his muscles and bones screaming with celebration when they were finally at rest. He was relaxed, he had you next to him, you were safe — he was all set. There were a few passing minutes of silence, but neither of you were trying to fall asleep just yet. You were still looking at him, admiring his features and paying attention to every little detail.
He was admiring you for admiring him, and even though he already knew every inch of you to perfection, he still loved to look at you.
“If you want to put it back on…” You reached for the balaclava that he had placed on the end table next to you. “I understand if you do.”
He stared at the black and stained white fabric covering. It was the idol of his personality, the foundation of what everyone knew about himself. It was a shield that he kept at all times, his highest form of protection and self-preservation.
But tonight? He could do without it.
“I don’t need it.” He answered.
A pause. Then a beat of disbelief. You weren’t sure if he meant it or if he was trying to satisfy what he thought that you wanted him to do. You never wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do on your behalf.
“Are you sure?” You clarified.
“I’m sure.” He gave a soft grin.
“Positive?” You made sure.
“Positive.”
He pulled you back into his chest once you had set the mask aside. He kissed the crown of your head, dragging his fingertips along the skin of your back. He listened to your breathing, paying attention to how it slowed to a consistent rhythm as you fell deeper and deeper into a slumber. He was still processing everything. He had taken his mask off with no preparation or planning. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He was beginning to turn into the man he never thought he’d be able to become.
For the longest time he had feared that he was too scarred and too frozen over to ever be anything other than a hardened man with nothing but distaste for the world. But he never knew there was a flame hot enough and bright enough to melt that frozen heart of his.
He was thankful for you.
You were the perfect combination of everything he ever needed and wanted. He was thankful for your kindness, patience, and support. He was thankful that you were strong enough to believe in him, yet soft enough to be sweet on him. He was thankful that you cared for him and showed him more love than anyone else had ever shown him before.
And he was always thankful that you had always been able to see beyond the mask.
#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x fem ! reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley one shot#simon riley oneshot#simon riley imagine#simon riley imagines#simon riley fanfiction#simon 'ghost' riley#simon 'ghost' riley x reader#simon 'ghost' riley x fem! reader#simon 'ghost' riley x fem ! reader#simon 'ghost' riley x you#simon 'ghost' riley x y/n#simon 'ghost' riley x oneshot#simon 'ghost' riley one shot#simon 'ghost' riley imagine#simon 'ghost' riley fanfiction#ghost x reader#ghost x fem! reader#ghost x fem ! reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#ghost one shot#ghost oneshot#ghost imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
And scene ((G)I-dle Minnie)
“Oh my God.”
No other words could adequately describe what happened to you. It was everything but a blur, things that could easily form into lifelong traumas. Almost everything you went through over the past few days might as well be taken straight out of a movie.
So where do you start?
An encounter with the local mafia that results in your fingers almost getting cut off, rescuing a Thai princess whose father was in cahoots with said criminal organization—the reason why she’s being held hostage as leverage—then escaping with her in a car and being pursued across the country by a helicopter and countless vehicles sent by the syndicate.
You should really be dead by now. Four times over.
Countless bruises, and wounds from bullets, blades, and everything that is designed to kill a man—any of these alone would be enough to permanently break any person, and you’re no athlete or assassin; you’re just a regular guy on what you thought was a promising vacation. It’s a miracle that you’re still breathing, more so standing, running on your feet towards the car you’ve taken refuge in, now on its roof and in flames.
Forget about the millions you’ve also stolen from the mafia; you’re thankful to be alive.
Unfortunately, your miraculous plot armor doesn’t seem to have passed on to the princess. At a glance, she appears to have only minor cuts and bruises like yours, but she’s laying on the tarmac, completely unconscious and unresponsive.
“Princess! Princess!” You shout, turn her face up and slap her cheek, checking for any signs of life. Blood trickles down her dirty face from her forehead, her lips, and her nose. You lean against her chest and press a thumb on her wrist, desperately seeking for a pulse.
Not a single response, not a single sign. She’s as good as dead.
Though you barely knew the woman, in the quiet moments when you weren’t dreading your surroundings, you grew feelings for her. Her beauty was befitting of her royal title, and despite her nobility, she never really thought much of it other than a personal burden. She only wanted to live a normal life, and you sympathized with her plight, even though you were merely a tourist passing through, unfamiliar with her customs and culture.
She didn’t deserve to die because of other people’s stupidity and recklessness, including yours.
You couldn’t bear to leave her alone. The survivor’s guilt hurts you more than anything that could have physically killed you. Sure, her family might not hold you responsible for their daughter’s death, but considering you ran off with her and traveled the entire country to find a safe haven, you might as well be an accomplice in their eyes. If not them, the media will.
You wanted to be by her side for as long as you could, praying for a miracle, but your instincts tell you to keep moving, to keep fighting.
You haven’t eaten anything for two days, and there’s nothing nearby that remotely resembles human civilization for miles. The sun has begun setting down, and soon enough, you’ll be prey to ferocious animals and the ruthless cold night. Despite this, you still have no intention to leave her. You’re just hoping the rescue promised by the national defense reaches you before it’s too late.
Just then, before you get up, you feel a tug on your arm. You turn and find the princess’ hand clinging to yours. She’s extremely weak, barely able to open her eyes, but she’s alive. Her little smile is more than enough of a reassurance that everything is going to be fine.
As much as you want to scream with joy, you’re far too overwhelmed with emotion, and all you can do is cry. Leaning close to her, you plant a gentle kiss on her chin and put her in a tight embrace.
“You’re—you’re—”
“Yeah,” she says, very faintly. She tries to widen her smile, but can’t. She doesn’t have to; she’s already done more than enough. “I’ll be okay.”
Right then and there, you give her a kiss you’ve been holding on for so long, all the pent-up feelings poured into your lips. A smooch so powerful, it can restore her life. A true love’s kiss, you could say. With the little strength she has, the princess gives in, reciprocating your love in kind, parting her lips. Both of you feel each other’s warmth with the setting sun shining down on you.
It couldn’t have been a more hopeful ending.
—————
“And cut!” A man’s rough voice echoes from the distance. That man isn’t really there, but he’s actually there, deliberating the action, fabricating everything up.
See, there was never any rescue, there was no criminal organization, and there was no damsel in distress. You were never really in danger all along.
You’re not really on vacation. You’ve been tirelessly working, in fact, in the confines of a film studio disguised as your ‘vacation.’ The princess you’ve been falling for is merely a co-worker, a colleague. It’s nothing but superficial chemistry to add some authenticity to an otherwise absurd but generic action movie plot.
You draw your lips away from the kiss, unknowingly keeping up the act with a light smile and blush on the ‘princess.’ She mirrors your sentiment, flashes a light grin back. Whether or not there’s some realism between you is up to the viewer, but at the very least the camera makes you two look believable. You can’t edit or animate chemistry like that.
“Great job everyone! That’s a wrap!” says the director, pulling up from his seat to laud you and gesturing to the other staff to stand in front of the cameras. Today’s the last day of filming for your next film, an action-comedy romance thriller with you as the lead. It’s a lot to take in at first, knowing that this is your first principal part in a high budget film after a string of acclaimed indies and even generating some awards buzz along the way, but you knew you had to take the jump and get your name out there beyond a niche of Letterboxd and Twitter film geeks.
As for your co-star, Kim Minnie, she couldn’t have had a more different career trajectory than yours. She was a child actress who’s path to box office stardom couldn’t be any straighter, but her momentum stagnated with a series of commercial and critically panned mid-budget romcoms. She needed a brand reinvention more than ever, and this was her first move in getting her star back on the rise.
As promising of a script as it looked, and even with a respectable director and crew handling, nothing is guaranteed for both of you. There’s so many ways the final product can end up: a critical and commercial success, an absolute disaster, a middling picture that will be completely forgotten after opening weekend, a cult classic that will only blossom years—decades even—after the initial release; the list goes on and on.
At least the bag is guaranteed. The studio threw you millions to star in their blockbuster, even when you have no prior hit or prestigious award to your name. Either a sign of the studio seeing star potential or a big red flag, casting an unknown, and knowing who was supposed to be in their initial casting before you stepped in, it’s safer to assume the latter. Either way, you’re getting paid, and you always have the indie circuit to fall back on, should the worst come to pass.
After a set of group photographs for the behind-the-scenes reel, it’s time for you to move past this project and onto the next one. You don’t really think much of the experience, apart from the overall kindness of the staff and professionalism of your co-stars, some of which you’ll likely work with again, and others you’ll never see again after today. Of course, there’s the press tour, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get there.
—————
It isn’t until the next hour that you’re finally able to drop the act and become yourself again. Alone in your designated waiting room, having cleaned up your rather uncomfortable makeup and in your casual wear, you hear a knock on the door right as you’re preparing to leave. Putting on your shirt, you walk up and open it to a staff member with a box in her hand.
“Miss Kim sent me to give this to you,” says the assistant, holding out the wrapped gift in front of you, which you gladly accept.
“Thanks!” you say, enthused, smiling back at the crew member. “Tell her I sent my regards.”
“Of course, she’d be delighted to hear that. See you!” She replies before quickly turning away as you close the door.
You immediately unwrap and peel off the box that Minnie gave you, presumably a farewell gift, knowing that this was your last day together. You heard rumors of her kindness toward the staff and fellow co-stars in the past, and this confirms her great reputation as a giver and substantiates practically every story and excerpt.
So you open the box and find a new expensive watch inside, completely untouched with a tiny note attached to it.
> To my knight in shining armor
> Love, Kim Minnie
You don’t realize it, but as you finish reading the brief letter, you’re smiling widely, giddy like a child growing feelings toward their school crush. Perhaps there is a little more authenticity in the role than you initially brought, and a little more relatability with your character, falling in love with a princess like her.
Reality then hits hard. You’ll likely never see her again, as much as you want to do more films with her. She has a different preference in projects compared to yours, and your career trajectories couldn’t be any more different. Of course, that can easily change over time, and one day she chooses to become an indie darling like you, the same way you built up your name in the first place, but that’s as likely as a sequel to this picture getting greenlit.
Nevertheless, you were now motivated to see her one last time before leaving it all behind for good.
So you make your way to Minnie’s personal dressing room to knock. The door doesn’t open, neither does any sound echo from the inside. She probably left already, you assume, but the lights are still on in there after noticing the floor. You try again, yet the response remains the same: there isn’t any. There’s still staff roaming the halls doing cleanup, so you can’t make your presence obvious by shouting her name.
After about five minutes, you contemplate leaving, but decide to wait a little more. Eventually, you notice that her door appears to be unlocked. She’s still there; there’s hope. Out of morbid curiosity, you decide to take a peek. Quiet as a mouse, you gently turn the knob without generating a sound, only to find something blinding.
When you peek your eyes inside, you find Minnie shuffling back and forth—naked. It takes every muscle and nerve in your body not to slam that door shut and make your presence known. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you close the door. Thankfully, the staff nearby seem to have completed their jobs or conveniently decided to clean elsewhere; you choose to believe in the latter.
Your better judgment tells you to walk away now, that you can still get some closure later on. There’s still the press tour for you to meet her again, and you can always choose projects that also happen to include her. No need for you to get involved in an unnecessary scandal just because.
Despite that, you knew you wanted to see her again, just not like this. But after seeing a tiny glimpse, you had no intention to leave so soon. You wanted more.
So you quietly re-enter her room, your eyes peeking out to watch her dress, and it’s the sexiest thing your eyes ever laid upon. She’s no longer completely nude, having put on some panties since then, but you capture countless mental pictures of her sizable, shapely breasts before she puts on a lace bra. Her previously long blonde locks having turned raven, the former being a cover for her actual hair, flows down to her shoulders with a brush of her hand. Either way, she rocks both colors flawlessly. She radiates star power and charisma naturally on top of her charming, seductive face and well-toned body, and you wonder how her career would have turned out had she played more femme fatale characters.
Her body was perfectly designed for them. In fact, everything about her was made for them.
Even when she’s doing nothing, pacing back and forth half-nude without a care in the world, she makes it look like the hottest thing ever. None of your previous co-stars made you feel this way, enamored and smitten with every little move like they’re deliberate and purposeful. If her goal was to seduce you, she certainly perfected it.
You’re so into her, indulging in the sight of Kim Minnie dressing up for you like your own private little show, that you’re left unaware of your body’s deeper intentions, pushing you a little further past that door, bargaining for more, until—
Thud!
With a sudden, echoed yelp, you throw yourself from the safety of heaven and into the fire.
You crash into her dressing room, your cry echoing across the studio. No harness or body double can break your fall or save you now.
“Hey!” Minnie’s barely finished putting on her shirt when she rushes over to you, worried. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah. I’m good,” you say, grunting as you pick yourself off the ground, brushing off the dust off your clothes.
“Are you sure?” She softly brushes your hair, tilting your chin up so that your eyes meet, hers accompanied with a concerned frown. “What happened?”
“I—I came over to, um—say thanks for the gift watch.” you reply, nervous, uncertain of your chosen words. It’s a miracle enough that you’ve found a reasonable excuse as to why you’re even there to begin with.
“Ah yeah! Manager-nim sent me your regards, but it’s much nicer to hear it coming from your own voice. It’s been great filming with you.”
“Of course,” you say, grinning. “Same goes with you, too.”
Minnie draws her hands away from your face. “Yeah, I hope we can find a way to share the screen together again.”
“Me too.” you reply, nodding in agreement, unable to avert your gaze from hers.
As soon as you stop talking, awkward silence fills the room almost instantaneously. Minnie’s nervous smile remains constant, anticipating a follow up like there’s another half to make it whole. She’s right in that you do have a few more things to admit, but as the saying goes: some things are better left unsaid.
Considering how you fawned over her minutes ago, this seems like the best option moving forward. Keep it all business. You know how this industry works, how these moments go, how one small move leads to another, and the ending is usually not a good one, even if the consequences aren’t immediate. In a line that takes promising careers and shreds them to nothing, you know better than to fall into the system. She likely knows, too.
“I’ll—” you turn around, pausing to glance back at her. This isn’t you, nervous and tense like it’s your first day on the job. “—be on my way now.”
She gives you a modest wave goodbye as you take a few steps forward, the door to your freedom inches away.
Then you stop.
You don’t end up getting your freedom. You don’t really want it. In fact, you toss it aside, a mere afterthought. Against your better judgment, you’re going off script, and there’s no external voice commanding you to stop, and you have no intention to. Impulse brought you to this point, and you were about to reap the full benefits. It’s a high, not a low.
“Minnie.” You turn around towards her with eyes full of lust, and her name dripping from your lips like your personal serotonin. She raises a curious eyebrow, puzzled.
“Hm? Something up? Why are you looking at me like that?”
She doesn’t look fazed when you start walking back toward her. It’s like she knows you have some unfinished business.
A soft peck on the lip. It isn’t practice for a future kiss scene; the kiss only happened at the very end, and in some twisted way, the script wrote itself.
“I think you’re really pretty.” Quickly retreating, you make it so obvious how head over heels you are for her—flushed cheeks, childish grin, and stilted body language. All that’s missing is some cheesy modern pop music or some overused slow 80s classic in the background.
“I—I—”
“Yeah.” Your eyes are pleading, begging. “I kinda fell for you—no, I completely fell for you.”
She covers her lips with her hands, utterly in disbelief. Her cheeks are burning just as bright as yours. “Oh my.”
“Um, well you’re beautiful, and really kind, and—” You had many things to say to Minnie, most of which previously echoed by others, and there’s no substance behind them, apart from maybe the first point, and they’re not what you really want to confess.
“Yeah, this isn’t gonna work.” She sees through the facade, but your awkwardness is genuine. Mostly. “It was cute though, I’ll give you that.”
“W-what do you mean?” Your eyes widen at the sudden twist.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I know that’s not what you wanted to say.” Her shy expressions are replaced by a confident, piercing smirk, her arms crossed close to her chest. “You think I’m hot, don’t you?”
“Yeah, no—actually yeah, I think you’re really hot,” you say, waving the white flag almost immediately. It was so obvious from the jump. One of the few times your ‘acting’ failed you.
“And?” Minnie raises an eyebrow, confidently expecting an answer. Her presence is so striking, it swallows up whatever remaining confidence you had left. There’s really nowhere to hide or run.
“Well, I hope you wouldn’t be upset, but—” Gulp your throat. “I quietly peeked through the door as you dressed.”
“Knew it.” Minnie shakes her head, quietly giggling at points. “I knew something was up when the door was slightly opened.”
“Yeah, but—I’m really sorry! I really wanted to say thanks first! I didn’t mean to peek through the door on purpose.”
“Yeah, because you accidentally peeked through my door? Sure, I believe you.” she replies, mockingly.
“Okay, but I couldn’t help it. You weren’t answering.” you say, tone deflated.
“You couldn’t have waited a bit longer?” she lifts an eyebrow, gives you a wary glare. “Fucking pervert. You’re no better than the rest of them.”
“Five minutes is a long time.” you quietly mumble, pulling out the last of your pathetic excuses, but she’s clearly caught you red-handed.
“Yeah, fuck you. Only sorry cause you’re caught.” Her eyes sharpen and she shakes her head. “Fine. You should be happy I’m in quite a good mood today, so leave. I’ll pretend this never happened, but I don’t want to see your face ever again.”
You’re visibly distraught. You have no intention to walk, not when there’s a lot at stake, and who knows what she’s going to do afterward. Hell, even as early as tomorrow, your career may no longer exist.
“Minnie,” You say, gently, eyes having gone from wanting to pleading. She turns to you with a fierce glare, as if the mention of her name desecrates her entire being. A stare so piercing you impulsively look the other way. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Hm.” She scans your face. Soft, helpless, vulnerable. “And how will you do that?”
You take a deep breath, swallow hard. “Anything. Please don’t get me in trouble. No one else has to get involved.”
She pouts, runs the offer meticulously through her head, having all the leverage in this proposal. The negotiations delay to make sure all her terms are agreed upon. Footstep clatters echo from outside the room, but not a soul is aware or even tries to interfere with your little affair.
“Okay, you say anything?” she asks, facing you, expression still cold.
You nod, still trembling.
“I only want one thing, then.” Minnie approaches you, each step of her heel a death bell being rung. Her eyes gaze at you, demanding your attention belong to her and her alone—and there were plenty of different parts about her that grabbed them. “You said you think I’m hot, right? Good news, I felt the same way about you—that was, until you pulled that little stunt, pervert.”
She says the last word like it’s a curse on your clean record, a reminder that will cling to you till you’re buried six feet under.
Keeping her eyes locked on yours, she walks around you until a sofa is conveniently right behind her. She then walks backwards, her hand motioning you to follow her, to which you reluctantly oblige. Inches away from the couch, she stops you right in your tracks, rubs her palms down your shirt, sizing you up.
“You’re a good kisser, I’ll give you that,” she says, her modulated, assertive tone reduced to a faint whisper. “But I wanna know if you’re good at love scenes too.”
Despite your stature, you’ve never shot a sex scene. At best, it’s you and your on-screen partner making out before the camera pans out of view, leaving the rest for the viewer’s imagination. Now you have to do the real thing completely uncut.
There’s a huge price to fame, after all.
Minnie lifts her white crop over her head, granting you a much closer view of her cleavage. She tosses it aside before facing you again. Arousing of a sight it looks, you’re anxious. “Take your shirt off.”
You follow, your sweater joining hers on the opposite end of the room to be forgotten. She scans you again, your bare, well-built chest completely exposed to her, now completely clean of fake scratches and wounds.
“Fuck, this is nice,” she comments, palming your chest. This isn’t the first time she’s seen you shirtless, but it’s in a completely different setting and context. “I wish we could have done this sooner. Oh well. Better now than never, I guess.”
Minnie plants a soft peck on your bicep, then on another, until she’s marked all your core points with her strawberry flavored lipstick. She nudges you a tiny bit closer to her, enough that you can feel your groin tense up against the hint of her heat.
“Yeah, that’s it. You feel so hard for me. You want to fuck me so bad, don’t you?” Minnie wraps her arms over your neck, explores your back and squeezes flesh to claim. Her seductive teasing reaffirms your true intentions, even though you’re never going to openly admit them. At some point, you wonder as to what her definition of punishment means, but you brush the thought aside, especially when your blood rushes down from your head to your groin.
She sneakily grabs you by your balls, tightening behind obstructive layers of fabric. Your erection can’t wait to spring free, lest you go home with conspicuously soiled pants. Grabbing a hold of your tent, her infectious lips continue to quietly shatter your eardrums. “I can already imagine this dick fucking my pussy so hard and so fast. Mmm, I bet you can actually make me cum.”
Had it been any other scenario besides this one, you’d have fired back a quip or two. Instead, you remain silent, rendered powerless under her commanding spell, reduced to a weak groaning shell of yourself.
“Too bad that will have to wait,” she suddenly blurts, pushing you away before retreating to the couch. Crossing her legs, she adds, “Let’s do a little trial run. Pleasure me without using your cock, then we might get somewhere. Sounds good?”
You sigh. Whether out of frustration of being blue balled or because of her terms is up for anyone’s interpretation. She lifts her eyebrows, looking at you intensely, smirking, reveling at your visible disappointment.
“The producers are just down the hall, so unless you want to take it to court,” she comments, teasingly, instigating, sparking a fire in your gut. Footsteps echo, again proving her point. You don’t doubt her for a second, but it stings whenever you hear that stark reminder of your little mistake. You just wanted to get on with the act and move past it immediately.
Her eyes maintain an intense grip on you—smoldering—as you approach her and take her by the waist, watching as you take hold of her jeans and slide them down, pushing her gray panties along as extra baggage. Gracefully, she opts to give you a little mercy by kicking off her flats. Even when she seemingly does nothing, her eyes judge, take note of your serious, rather businesslike demeanor of undressing her.
Her splayed pussy’s right in your view, but your petty contempt for her makes it less inviting.
“What are you waiting for?” dares Minnie, pointing down at her entrance, eyebrows raised and tauntingly smirking.
You couldn’t be any more eager to wipe that confident smile off her face.
Keeping the rule in mind, you hover atop her seat on the couch and drop an arm, burying your hand between her pink lips. Minnie winces as your fingers make first contact with her clit, drawing her heat. She appears visibly shaken, caught unawares by your touch, even when she expected it.
“O-oh, f-fuck—” she whines, shutting an eye, cheeks puffing as she tries to resist, to no avail. Her nails rake into your back, inviting you ever closer, slowly relinquishing control, a perfect time for you to claim as yours.
The wet and warm sensation scalds, burns on your fingertips. You anticipated her to be wet, but not this soaked. Her pussy drags your digits further down like quicksand—nigh inescapable. Each little slap and touch creates a clap, a few raindrops that signal forthcoming rain.
Propped only by your other arm resting on her shoulder, you indulge in her wetness, searching for her favorite spot, the gold mine. Her body trembles, slowly but certainly adjusting to your fingers, moans becoming thinner and airy, eyes gradually losing focus on you, absorbed in the pleasure rapidly building within her. Her hips slowly buck and fold, grind against your digits in an attempt to swallow them whole.
“F-feels so good, f-fuck—” she whines, entangling her arm with yours, almost disrupting the euphoric moment when she drags you onto the couch with her. It’s a blessing in disguise, as you’re able to kick off your shoes and increase the tempo inside her.
In that moment, she had forgotten her anger, only to be replaced by a renewed feeling of bliss.
Moaning against her temple, lips barely grazing her forehead, you whisper, “You’re so fucking wet, and I haven’t even put this dick in you yet.”
“Fuck off.” Minnie suddenly snaps, tone frantic, her body set alight by need and craving for more. Even with the little fight she displays, she’s clearly on the losing end, delaying the inevitable. It’s all the more clearer when her voice fades, strains with every passing word, and her plea betrays her. “P-please, keep going.”
You slip a second finger, watch as her legs clamp down as her body squirms tighter and tighter beneath her touch. By the way her legs tremble and writhe violently, you swear they’re melting into the couch. She grasps at straws to keep you controlled, to keep your tempo stable, to leave some breathing room, to no avail. Your digits continue to fuck her at an intense pace, to the point where the wet, squelching claps of her cunt echo along with her lewd moans.
“Yes. Need that.” She squirms beneath you, her hands no longer craving you, but on a different goal; she brings them around her back, unhooks her bra for you to toss them aside on her behalf. Afterward, she grabs you by the wrist and leads you directly to her breast, a generous reward for your efforts.
When you hold her, it’s like rescuing a damsel in distress, saving her from her most wanton of desires by fueling yours. Every little touch, slap, and pinch of her naked body loosens her psyche and drives her wild.. From the most strained cry to the loudest scream, Minnie makes it clear just how amazing you feel to her, and her voice makes the sultriest sounds your ears are blessed to hear.
You can’t help but put such thought into words.
“God, you have such a sexy voice when you moan,” you whisper, and it’s what appears to break her.
Minnie lets out an ear-shattering shrill, her body convulsing as the pressure of your fingers finally pushes past a point beyond repair. Her legs lock tighter on your hand, as if they couldn’t be any more imprisoned, but they eventually loosen up and pave the way for her unannounced orgasm.
She gushes. Like a broken faucet, she doesn’t stop leaking, passionately crying through her vivid climax. It’s a mixture of slick and water that leaves your fingers incapable of leaving her, so you entertain the notion, dragging your digits in and out of her still gushing folds, seeming to make a mark on her cunt. Brushing in and out for a bit, until you settle around the exterior of her clit, you continue to fondle and caress her in your twisted form of aftercare. Even so, her orgasm continues to wash over her and your fingers, spilling onto the mattress you fuck her on.
“Oh God, I can’t stop cumming, oh God—” she whines, gasping for air, mouth agape, her hand grabbing her other breast; her orgasm is gradually dying from a shower to a drizzle.
“Mmm.” You brush your sticky fingers on her belly, playfully nodding in agreement. “Sounds about right.”
Minnie takes a moment to gather herself before she pushes your hand aside—quicker than you hoped. By the way she orgasmed and screamed, you’d think she’d already be down for the count. “I wasn’t ready, you pervert.”
“I was only following the rules,” you respond, lifting your shoulders in a shrug, barely holding on to your confident demeanor, only showing the faintest sign of a smirk.
“Sure, whatever.” Minnie shoots you a stern leer, but it doesn’t faze you in the slightest—not when you know that she’s no better than anyone else. “Now fuck me with that cock and cum fast so we can get this over with.”
You get the pleasantries out quickly, as she wanted. Hopping off the couch, you undo your belt and pants, get your already hard cock free from its denim constraints. She eyes your shaft intently, looking unsatisfied, but you know it’s a facade, a poor acting effort compared to her usual abilities.
“Sure you want me to cum fast?” you tease, jokingly pointing out her fixated gaze on your cock. “Seems like you want me to give it to you nice and slow.”
“N-no. I was just surprised at how big it is,” she retorts, appearing even more scornful than moments before. She looks up at you, visibly annoyed, before looking down at your raging cock once more, another sign of betrayal.
“Please. Drop the act, Minnie.” Tilt her up from the chin, gently pushing her back down on the cushion. Surprisingly, there’s no pushback, no reluctance; she allows you to get atop her on the couch. Her eyes look into yours, then scan your chest with want, with need. “Let me fuck you the way you really want. I want it too.”
A flirty smirk forms on her contorted lips. She pulls you to her level by your shoulders, softly nibbling on your earlobe. With a hypnotic whisper, she says, “Fuck me.”
You return the favor, smiling lightly at the open invitation given to you—knowing that her body knows her wants more than she does. Without wasting any more time on needless pleasantries, you slip yourself in, introducing your cock to her welcoming heat. No matter how much you prepared for this, it takes every fiber of your resolve to not crumble immediately in that moment, uttering a sharp hiss as you close the gap between your length and her womb.
Your unison forms a harmonious groan and curse that fills the room louder than anything before. The powerful wave of pleasure surging through you overrides your senses, leaves you unable to move, keeps your eyes shut, unable to look at the handiwork beneath you. You grip a hand around her breast, elicit another moan from Minnie’s sultry lips, seek a sign you’re doing it right.
“So fucking tight,” you rasp, slowly fighting her tight, wet cunt from sucking you all in. Her creamy legs narrow the gap, leaving you even more breathless. Still, you manage, by some miracle, to pull yourself out before you plunge right in again.
Words can’t tell how good Minnie feels with you inside her; sexy, erotic mewls that tickle your eardrums are the only proper expression.
Your hands intertwine and find themselves in the only comfortable place they can be in, with each other. Finding nothing but paradise in her heat, you rest your head on the groove of her neck, still overwhelmed to look at her ecstasy-filled face. As you mark down her skin, leave marks that no amount of makeup can hide, you settle into a steady rhythm fucking her. With each thrust her walls clench around your cock, turn it to a canvas of her pleasure with her juices.
The world quiets down for just the two of you, except for the crescendo of moans that leave both your lips and the wet flaps of skin against skin, and that’s all you want to hear right now. There’s no pressure from the outside, no call from a producer or staff telling you to get ready, just the hot action happening between you.
Minnie’s thighs continue to clench around your hips, put more pressure around you to burn. In retaliation, you put her deeper into the couch, melt her flesh into the leather as you comfortably fuck her at your pace—not too fast, but not too slow. She returns your lovemaking in kind, rolls her hips, and meets you halfway with each thrust. One hand rests on her taut breast, the other on her hips, but hers are connected with yours; either way, you have the actress exactly right where you want her to be.
“You fuck me so well,” she whines, tone low, lifting her neck up, kicking her thighs, urging more out of you. “Harder. Harder.”
Lifting your figure up, your cock sinks further into her suffocating walls, plunging as deep as you can into her drenched pussy. The deeper you go, the higher your moans reach. Her hot body leaves you so weak, so breathless, that it forces Minnie’s legs to spur your hips on, to keep fucking her just like this.
“Minnie.” Her name is a plea to make the sensation stop or at least slow down, as incredible as she feels around you. Ultimately, it does nothing, and you press on, as if only her body can satiate you.
It’s then that her eyes flutter open, lips still melted and open, still moaning as you pound her. Her chest heaves with each deep breath, while her palms find their way around your chest. She tries to pull you down again, but to no avail. Ultimately, her body goes rigid, trembles violently beneath you as her second orgasm overcomes her and leaves her completely open to the throes of pleasure.
“I came again,” she whispers, her light figure quaking from her fresh climax. Even with jittery muscles, her hand traces up to your shoulder, till it reaches up your cheek, forcing you to meet her. “Please, cum in me already.”
Her legs loosen around your hips, as if telling you otherwise, but the feeling is so good—so wet, so warm, and so tight—that it would be a disservice to everything you’ve done so far not to unload in her. She has her eyes observing you, softly caressing your shoulders in a desperate plea, as if you have any other intention other than to do what she wants you to. It’s fucked—how her glazed eyes keep you still, all while your body continues to work overtime. She melts, she contorts, she anticipates you coming undone for her.
Even with her frame rocking and clenching beneath you, her breasts bouncing with each sharp stroke, it’s her eyes, her expectant gaze, keeping you at bay. Her lips shift around, her orgasm beyond her at this point, softly whispering one final plea. “I want—all of you—inside me. Don’t ever—think of—pulling out. I’m all yours—baby!”
You suppress a breathy gasp, grit your teeth, your muscles and nerves all over the place. A little more before you ultimately surrender. A handful of strokes is all it takes before you go numb, burying your cock deep into her cunt. Hot, hot thoughts fill your head, mostly asphyxiating sensations choking your entire body as you pour shot after shot of thick cum inside her greedy cunt.
“So—warm,” mumbles Minnie, ignoring the longest syllabled fuck from your side as your body gradually descends, all your strength completely sapped in one fell swoop.
You eventually find solace on her bare figure, your cock still throbbing inside Minnie’s pussy, but your motions slow to a halt, until the only sign of life coming from you is the wave of deep breaths you gather on her collarbones. She joins you in rest, letting her nails take refuge on your back, tracing and marking your skin as you did to hers.
The two of you remain entangled, relishing each other’s sweat, cum-filled bodies on the couch, bathed in the afterglow of sex. Both of you would happily sleep another day on set if it meant you were in each other’s arms. Of course, that’s not the reality; you don’t know when you’ll see each other again after this.
Surprisingly, Minnie is the first to break the tense silence. Brushing your hair, she mumbles, “You okay?”
A question that you should be asking her, not the other way around.
You lift your head from her body and nod, create little ripples on her flesh. “Yeah. I should be asking you that.”
She flashes a gentle grin, the trademark smile you’ve missed, and will miss. “I’m good. More than that, actually.”
A few more minutes pass, with your eyes lovingly staring into each other, unwilling to let the moment die. “You could have just asked, you know.”
“Hm?” You lift an eyebrow.
“You could have asked, and we would still end up like this. Fucking pervert.”
“Ugh—you’ll never stop referring to me as that, are you?” you groan, dropping your face on her neck while she throws her head back and chuckles.
“Nope. Pervert.”
—————
(A/N: This one's dedicated to @svndaysaweek, I saw his answer to a particular ask and thought it was very appealing of an idea to write. Again, apologies for the sudden month long drought, was feeling extremely unmotivated and still am XD Thank you for reading!)
789 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Hope in the Fault Lines, part 1
Summary: after your sister and her husband are tragically killed, you become the guardian of their daughter, your niece. As you try to pick up the pieces of your life, you become aware that you need help. Desperately. So you hire a nanny. Enter Mingyu, an ex-agent-turned-childcare-professional with a past of his own.
Genre: fluff, heavy themes, (light) smut in later parts (minors DNI)
Warnings: (applies to most of the parts) descriptions of grief, mental illness, disordered eating, instant parenthood, loss of sibling, vehicle-related death, police investigation, child custody court, parental abuse
Word count for pt 1: 4.3k
part 2 | part 3 | part 4
Why aren’t I numb yet? you think to yourself.
Because really, you should be there by now. Hell, you’d even planned to be there by now so you could go back to work. But here you are — standing in your seven-month-old niece’s bedroom, crying along with her, the agony in your chest building like water that slowly heightens to a boil, its persistent, grief-tinged bubbles roiling in time with every pointless beat of your absolutely shattered heart.
You stroke the back of your niece Sara’s head and made soothing noises as well as you could around your own tears. Surely, at some point, she had to stop crying, right? Then maybe you could get back to sleep, which so far has been the only semi-consistent way to forget the grim truth of your reality.
Which was that your sister, Jeri — the proper mother for this fussing thing in your arms — and her husband, Jisung, were dead. That was why you were here, with a child who was missing the same person you were missing but had much less of a vocabulary to express it, so she just cried and cried and cried until you realized she was voicing your own internal monologue. Both of you were hoping that she’d walk in any minute and hold you and make the world stop its incessant spinning for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry you only have me. I’m sorry that’s the best I can give you.” You stifle a sob. “I’m sorry that she’s gone. I miss her too.”
Eventually, Sara’s wails quieted, and she slumped against your shoulder, exhausted. You collapsed into the chair in the nursery, exhausted enough to fall asleep immediately, holding Sara in your arms.
You were awakened by the sound of the door opening. Had you forgotten to lock it? You suddenly panic, gently placing Sara’s still-sleeping form into her crib before tiptoeing into the hallway, colliding with your best friend, Bora.
“Did I not lock the door?” you blurt in shock.
She looks you up and down. “No, you did,” she reassures, her worried look intensifying. “I’ve had a key for five years.”
You deflate in relief. “Right,” you say aimlessly, looking at her. “Okay. Um…coffee?”
“Girl, I should be making you coffee,” Bora said. She put a hand to your forehead. “You’re ill, sweetheart.”
You blink at her. “I am?”
“Undoubtedly,” she confirms, leading you back to your bedroom. “Don’t worry about Sara. I’ll be here all day, so you just rest, okay?” She nearly pushes you onto your bed, and pulls a blanket off the floor to tuck around you.
You take stock of yourself. Head aching -- that wasn’t new. Eyes dry and puffy -- same as always. No, the only difference you could tell from last night is a hollow, cavernous emptiness in your chest where the clawing agony used to sit. Right on cue, the numbness has begun to engulf you.
You pass the day in a haze, only briefly aware of the activities of Sara, who at seven months old is only fussy around strangers when it gets dark, and your friend. You simply lay there in bed, not sleeping despite your tiredness, not even able to muster up the energy to reach for the food Bora brings you at midday. In fact, the sun is setting before you’re able to become conscious, sitting up and rubbing at your stinging eyes as Bora comes in to check on you.
“What about Morrie and Cal?” you ask her, referencing Bora’s own daughter Morna and her husband Calvin. “Did you really leave them all day?”
Bora nodded. “Yeah, Cal’s got it. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” She brushes your hair out of your face in a motherly way. “You need help here.”
“I’m not getting married anytime soon, Bo,” you say dryly.
“I’m not talking about marriage,” she says. “I’m talking about a nanny.”
You bite your lip. “Are you saying I’m bad at motherhood?” you ask, and if you could sound hurt through all the nothingness you feel, you’re sure you would.
“No,” Bora says gently. “I’m saying you didn’t bargain for motherhood on top of dealing with your grief, and you still have a whole life ahead of you that needs your attention, outside of this apartment. You have a job you love that you really need to get back to -- for you, sweetheart, not for the company, because I know that the work you do makes you happy. You need more time like that, more time for you. I know there’s a big difference in the circumstances, but when I became a mother, having Cal as a partner made it really easy for me to do things outside of the house that gave me purpose. It really helped me get a handle on myself outside of motherhood so that I could maintain a healthy relationship with Morrie without resenting her or losing myself. And honestly, you need that. We all do. And since marriage isn’t the move right now, and you have the means, a nanny might be the best possible thing for you.”
You nod slowly. “So they’d just come watch Sara while I’m at work?”
She nods. “They can be here as much or as little as you want.”
“Okay. How do I make sure they’re not a child snatcher or a pervert?”
Bora snorts. “Well, I’d recommend interviewing them so that your spidey-senses can alert you to any potential creeps,” she advises.
“I’m tired just thinking about that,” you groan. The phone begins to ring, and you check the ID — it’s your head editor, Cory.
You answer. “Hey,” you say, trying not to sound as dead inside as you are. “What’s up?”
“How are you doing?” he asks, his tone hesitant. This was one of the worst parts of tragedy, you thought to yourself: the awkwardness. Suddenly there was no comfort anywhere. Nobody knew what to say to you, or how to address the event, so everyone skated around it and you in a cautious dance of embarrassment and pity. Part of you wishes someone would just acknowledge it -- “so, your sister is dead,” and then move on.
“I’m fine,” you lie. “I should be back to work...soon. I just need to find a nanny for my niece.”
“Oh, that’s...that’s good,” Cory says, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t actually calling about that, I was actually just...worried about you.”
You sigh. “Everybody is, Cory. But I’ll pull through this. I always do.”
“I know,” he says, “and I trust that you will. I just...wanted you to know that we’re -- that I’m thinking of you.”
You try to feel curious about his choice of words, but can’t muster the energy to care that much. “Thanks, Cory,” you say. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Another lie, but the last one you feel compelled to tell him. “Bye.”
Bora is looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “He seems friendly,” she says, and through the haze that seems to coat your brain you know she’s making an implication.
This is yet another thing you don’t have the energy to address right now, so you don’t. “So, I need to interview nannies.”
“Well, you could also have your assistant do it,” Bora offers. “She’d lay on train tracks for you. I’m sure she’d do a good job.”
The corner of your mouth twitches as you think of making Emily, your eager assistant, vet nannies for Sara. She was young and enthusiastic and proactive, and she’d do a great job. “I think that’s a good idea,” you say. “Thanks, Bora. I know I haven’t been -- well, I know you have better things to do than worry about me, and I’m s--”
“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” she says, holding her manicured hand up to silence you. “You have people around you who care about and love you. Me included. This is the time where you need to lean on those people. And we all want that.”
“Thank you,” you say again.
“Eat,” she says sternly. “I need to get home, but I refuse to leave Sara with you until you’ve got food in your body.”
You wrinkle your nose at the idea of putting something in your mouth and chewing, but you realize that Bora’s made you some kind of thick, creamy soup that requires nothing but small sips. It’s easy to eat, and before you know it, despite not really tasting it as it passed through your lips, you’ve finished the bowl. Bora nods approvingly, leaning in and kissing your forehead before standing up to leave. “I love you, sweetheart,” she says. “Call me in the morning, okay?”
And with that, she leaves.
***
Six days later, you’re somewhere that you never expected to be at this point -- at dinner with your friend Gwen and her husband, Chan. Bora had showed up, instructed you to get ready, and taken Sara home with her as the couple had showed up at your front door. “You need a night out,” she insisted as you halfheartedly protested.
You had taken her advice and asked Emily to start interviewing nannies, but so far, her search for someone who could be there during your required time period and had the right background checks and qualifications had come up with very few results. This was a bit disheartening, but you hadn’t really given up yet, hoping someone would pull through for you. If you believed in God at this point, you’d probably pray for it.
These are the thoughts that are consuming you at dinner with your friends, when you’re supposed to be listening to them talk. They, gratefully, are a comforting pair, who make a point not to look at you with the customary pity. Instead, they ask about work and Sara and even about your thoughts on how the funeral had gone, which is kind of a relief -- none of that timid skirting around the big, ugly elephant in the room. Maybe this openness they’ve pulled out of you is the reason you feel you can speak to them about your current issue. “Actually, I’m trying to get back to work,” you say. “Those bills aren’t going to pay themselves. The only issue is, I need to find a nanny for Sara, but my assistant has been having trouble finding someone who fits the bill,” you explain, picking at the food in front of you.
To your surprise, Chan’s eyes light up. “I might know a guy. He used to work with me, and he just moved back here after awhile.”
You stare at him. “Chan, aren’t you a federal officer?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
“Why would a federal agent want to work as my nanny?” you ask him.
“Former federal agent,” he corrects you. “Turned nanny.”
“You know someone who quit being a secret agent to become a child-care worker?” you say in disbelief.
Gwen nods. “Actually, he’s really good. The family he was just with fell on some hard times, which is why he’s back now, but I think he might be looking for a new gig.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “You got the contact information for this guy?” you ask Chan.
“Yeah. His name’s Mingyu. I’ll forward the info on to Emily.”
“Thanks,” you say. “Really, Chan.” You allow yourself to hope for a moment, which provides just the right amount of energy to finish dinner and make your way back home. Once you’re inside your wreck of an apartment, which hasn’t been really cleaned since the accident, you lean heavily against the door, releasing a big breath.
You head to Sara’s room before realizing she’s still at Bora’s house. You text her that you’re home, and before you know it, Bora is handing a sleeping Sara back into your arms.
“She was really good today,” Bora whispers. “How was dinner?”
“It was...okay,” you say, and for the first time, you’re honest. For some reason, you feel like this Mingyu person is the one who’s going to stick, and that leaves you with a modicum of relief. A change is coming, and this one feels like it’s bound to be better than whatever you’re trying to do now. Bora leaves, and you go to the nursery -- the one room that’s intact and clean -- and sink into the rocking chair with Sara.
“Sometime soon, we’re going to have someone to help us out, Sara,” you promise. “I know this isn’t the life your parents probably imagined for you, but I’m going to try and give you something close to what they wanted you to have. I mean that.”
Slowly, you pull her off your shoulder to look at her cherubic little face -- at the black curls that surround her face, her long eyelashes fluttering in sleep. She’s a darling baby, but what you notice is something that penetrates through the cloud of numbness: she’s smiling, her little dimples so reminiscent of --
“Jeri,” you breathe, and a rush of warmth hits you right in your chest for a moment before it’s once again extinguished by your grief, like a flaming arrow shot into a dark, black lake. You suppose, as you hold her close to you once again, that in a way, Sara has immortalized your sister.
You fall asleep holding Sara, who for the first time since she became yours sleeps through the night.
***
You’re standing in your sweatpants, braless, your hair thrown haphazardly on top of your head, feeding Sarah some baby food as she babbles happily in her high chair, when the doorbell rings. You check your watch in disbelief -- it’s seven in the morning, which is the time you had asked Mingyu to show up for his first day of work. You’d never met him in person, although you had talked to him on the phone, and you’d wanted to make a good first impression. But then Sara had had a blowout, and you’d had to change your own sheets because she’d slept in your bed with you, and then you’d had to bathe her (it was that bad), and you were finally getting to feed Sara. You hadn’t even eaten yet, and you’d planned to be fully ready and put together by the time he arrived.
But there was no postponing this -- you couldn’t just let him rot on your porch. So you head for the door, praying Sara won’t throw the spoon on the floor as she has been wont to do recently, and look through the peephole. When you see him, the only thing you can do is whisper “shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.”
Because how could Emily not have told you that the man was beautiful?
And he isn’t beautiful in like, your everyday way either. The man on your porch is tall, probably dwarfing you by both head and shoulders, with a broad chest that pulled at the simple black tee he wears and arms that the pre-accident you would have swooned over. His hair is cropped short like a fed, and he is dressed practically, and yet, he was a god. There was no other way around it. You look down at yourself -- stained t-shirt, sweats with holes in embarrassing places, hair in disarray -- and shrug. There’s nothing you can do but pull the door open. “Hi,” you say. “Mr. Kim?”
“Yeah,” he replies, and he doesn’t seem to register your haggard appearance, just smiles. “I’m guessing you’re --”
“Yeah,” you confirm. “Um, please come in.”
He does, carefully removing his tennis shoes and stepping into the entryway. “Sara’s in the kitchen. Probably throwing stuff.”
He chuckles. “She’s seven months?”
“Yeah,” you say.
“They do that,” he says conspiratorially.
It has taken you very little time to realize you might be in trouble. Mingyu’s smile is open and warm, his eyes full of life. He is nothing like the gruff, stern former agent that you were picturing in your head. You watch him crouch to greet Sara, whose face lights up at his friendly wave. “Hi, Sara,” he says, brushing a bit of blended squash off her nose. “You’re a cutie, that’s for sure.”
“I’m so sorry for the mess,” you can’t help but say. “It’s...it’s been insane.”
He looks up at you. “I get it. Your assistant kind of explained the situation. How are you holding up?” he asks.
You scratch the back of your head. “Well, Sara’s still alive, and that’s pretty much the extent of my current goals, so I guess we’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”
He nods sympathetically. “Honestly, great job. Becoming an instant parent can’t be easy.”
“I actually need to be at work at 8:30,” you suddenly realize. “Can I show you around? I’ll have to dash right afterward.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says, following you down the hall.
“This is the guest room,” you say. “It hasn’t been touched for a minute, but this is where you’ll sleep if we ever need you to stay overnight. I occasionally have business trips.” You lead him further down the hall and up the short staircase, opening the door to the nursery. “Right there is the bathroom. This is Sara’s room, so when she goes down for naps, this is where you can put her.”
You look at him, and his face is thoughtful as you point down the hall. “Door at the end is my bedroom,” you say, remembering what an absolute disaster it is. A blush rises in your cheek. “And please,” you say, going back down the stairs. “You can make yourself at home. Feel free to use the TV while Sara’s napping, or eat what’s in the fridge or pantry if you’re hungry.”
“Okay,” he agrees.
You pull out your wallet and hand him a card. “This one is for you. If you ever feel like eating anything or going somewhere with Sara, you can use this. I opened it for you specifically -- I figured it’d be easier than reimbursing you.”
He pockets it. “Sounds good,” he says.
You stand there, feeling awkward. “Well, I think that was all.”
He nods. “Go get ready,” he says reassuringly. “If I need something or have any questions, I’ll shoot you a text. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” you say in relief. “Thanks.”
You nearly sprint upstairs and jump in the shower. It takes you two minutes to do everything you need to do -- you’ve been taking micro-showers since you took Sara in, terrified that something would happen to her in your absence. Watching the time, you blow your hair dry, apply simple makeup, and change into a comfortable pair of black slacks and a white button-up. You arrive downstairs to see Mingyu at the sink with Sara, having sat her in the crook of his arm so he can wash her sticky face.
The sight of them warms your heart. “Okay, I’ve gotta dash,” you say. “Please, reach out to me if you need anything.”
He smiles. “I will. Drive safe.”
“Okay,” you say, bounding out the door and into your car.
The office hushes a bit when you walk in. They knew you were coming back today, but it must be surreal after the three months you’ve been gone, especially when this is your magazine -- you’re the only person at the company who’s been there since the beginning, because you started it. Cory is quick to hop to your side. “Hi, boss,” he greets. The rest of the office goes back to their activities as you enter your large, glass-paneled office.
“Hi, Cory,” you say. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he says, seemingly lost for any other words. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks,” you say. “So, update me. Where are we at with the Serena Williams feature?”
“She was super understanding, and the publishers were too,” he says. “Ruby wrote a great piece, though, so as soon as we’ve got the green light we’ll start the launch. I’ve got Jojo on the social media build, and she’s got a two-on-one scheduled with us later to go over it.”
You nod in approval. “Okay, sounds good. I’m gonna contact Park Seojun’s agent today, so I’d like a list of writers you think could write that story well before our meeting with Jojo. I’m thinking we use someone in-house, but I’m open to contracting out if you’re worried people in the office already have too much to do.”
Cory gives you a thumbs up. “Got it,” he says, heading back to his desk.
You breathe in your office air, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders dissolve. You can’t say you’re happy, per se -- but you aren’t as empty as you have been. Bora had been right -- getting back to work is going to be good for you.
***
Toward the end of the day, though, you begin feeling a strange pull -- a pull toward home. You know Mingyu and Sara have been fine, because Mingyu has been texting you periodically throughout the day:
9:49
MG: hey, we’re out of wet wipes over here. do you have any extra boxes?
You: yeah they’re in your bathroom under the sink!
MG: okay I should’ve thought to check there, thanks! You saved my life haha
You: no worries! Is everything ok?
MG: yeah its good, no need to stress. Sara just needs a diaper change.
You: ok, sounds good! Thanks!
11:30
MG: sara reeeeeeeeeeeally likes pears
You: oh yeah they’re her favorite lol
He’d sent you a video of Sara screeching with joy as he put a spoonful of pear mush into her mouth.
MG: like i’ve never seen anyone so enthusiastic about pears
You: i love it when she screams at her food, that’s the best
MG: me too its so cute haha
1:43
MG: ok i forgot to ask
MG: how long are her naps supposed to be
You: tbh I usually let her sleep an hour or so...i should probably do research on what’s developmentally appropriate
MG: lmao nah i gotchu
Then a few minutes later:
1:52
MG: so apparently huckleberrycare.com suggests 2-3 hours of daytime sleep for kids sara’s age
You: damn, that’s a long time
You: well, i guess let her sleep? She might not stay down that long, but we can adjust her routine a bit to try and get her there
MG: sounds good. Is she a light sleeper? She’s on me rn and i don’t want to wake her up if i move her
You: oh no you can totally put her in her crib lol she won’t wake up
MG: ok thanks haha my arm was kind of going numb bc i was too scared to change positions lmao
You: hahaha yes you’re totally fine to put her in as soon as she goes to sleep usually
MG: great to know, thanks lol
And more throughout the day, littered with photos of Sara in varying states of ridiculousness. You found yourself actually smiling as each text rolled in, grateful for the updates, knowing you would’ve felt a lot more anxious if you hadn’t heard anything.
Still, you didn’t want to keep Mingyu waiting too long. He was supposed to get off at 6, and you wanted to make sure he didn’t feel like you were taking advantage of him. So you left work earlier than normal, beating the rush hour traffic and coming through the door to see Mingyu playing with your niece on the floor. He looks up at you as you come in and waves you over. “She rolled over just barely,” he whispers excitedly. “Watch!”
Sara struggles, whining a little bit, before rolling from her stomach to her back. You clap excitedly, lifting her from the floor into your arms and kissing her pudgy cheek. “Good job, Sara!” you coo, and she burbles happily, touching your face with a fat hand.
Suddenly, you notice something -- the house is clean.
“Mr. Kim,” you say slowly, “did you clean my house?”
He suddenly looks sheepish. “Uh, yeah, I did,” he says. “I’m sorry if that was...I don’t know, not my place.”
“Are you apologizing for cleaning?” you ask him, amused. “I feel bad you felt the need to do that! I shouldn’t have -- have let it get so bad.”
He gives you an extremely gentle look that you are sure he didn’t intend to make your knees go weak. “You’ve been through a lot recently,” he says. “I think you should be kinder to yourself. Also, there was a time when I was in college and living with roommates, and it was way worse cleaning up after some of them.”
“Well, at least there’s that,” you say, returning his smile with Sara propped on your hip.
You stare at him for a minute, and then shake yourself. “Well, I’m here now, so I guess you can...go?” You make a face at your phrasing. “I’m not trying to kick you out. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay past your hours.”
He chuckles. “It’s okay. I get you. Have a good night.” He heads for the door, calling over his shoulder. “Actually, I made some fried rice this afternoon. The leftovers are in the fridge. Help yourself.”
Your jaw drops. “Wait a minute, Mr. Kim,” you call after him, following him on his way out.
He turns around, smiling at your tone. “You can call me Mingyu,” he offers.
You nod. “Okay, Mingyu. You cooked, cleaned, and took care of Sara while I was at work?”
“Yeah,” he says, a laugh in his voice. “Is that so odd?”
“I never managed to do all three in one day,” you admit ashamedly.
“Well, I’m not mourning the loss of my sister,” he reminds you, and his voice is a bit stern. “That kind of thing takes a lot of energy.” He rests a big hand on your shoulder comfortingly before opening the door. “See you tomorrow.”
#whew#this is not the full fic#part two up in a week??? I hope???#seventeen#svt#svt fluff#svt fic#mingyu#mingyu comfort#mingyu fluff#domestic mingyu#svt x reader#mingyu x reader
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
An Offer · part 02
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
words: 3,4k
warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), Brock Rumlow
<previous part | next part> | series masterlist
series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.
chapter sneak peek: Bucky’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and his chest grew bigger as he took a deep breath through the nose. His mouth curved into a bitter smile. He stared at Brock for a while longer, then moved away, as if he intended to leave you two alone.
On your way to a meeting with Brock Rumlow and his father, you wondered what it would cost you to jump out of a moving car. Would something like that be worse than marrying Brock and becoming part of his Family? The Family, which was mainly in the business of prostitution and drugs? Actually, drugs were an issue that you tolerated. But the vision of a relationship – arranged or not – with a pimp made you nauseous.
And all you knew about Brock was that he was hot-tempered, impulsive and aggressive, but this wasn’t uncommon among gangsters.
You also remembered what Bucky said.
Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?
“Try to keep an open mind.” You heard Michael. The sound of his voice managed to stop the chaos in your head. “James can be persuasive and thinks he knows everything. But remember he is not in your situation and never will be, so try not to turn against me. Focus on the welfare of the Family.”
You restrained yourself from snorting at his words. Focusing on the welfare of the Family and business had become one big headache for you – it was giving you sleepless nights, eating you alive, and Michael was asking you for more. You were already tired, stressed and sick to your stomach.
The car stopped outside the pub that Rumlows had proposed for a meeting, and as soon as the engine was turned off, and you realised the seriousness of the situation and how close you were to it, you felt an overpowering sense of anxiety and panic. Your breathing became uneven, the inside of your hands damp with sweat.
You jumped uneasily as the driver opened the door for you.
“I need a moment.” You were able to focus enough to make your voice sound normal, and the words left your mouth almost flawlessly. “I’ll just fix my makeup.”
Being alone in the car was somehow helping, but you still couldn't bring yourself to exit the vehicle – that step led straight to a meeting with Brock Rumlow.
“What is going on?” You heard a muffled voice that belonged to neither Michael nor the driver, so you looked up at the side window. Bucky was standing just by the car door, he wasn't speaking to you but to Michael.
“She wanted a few minutes for herself.”
Frowning, Bucky looked inside the car through the window, and you could easily see the confusion in his eyes. For a moment, you just looked at each other – you with pure mess in your head, and he as if trying to read your mind from the expression on your face. He grabbed the handle, and a refreshing spring air burst inside the car.
“Hey,” Bucky spoke gently, leaning towards you. “You okay?”
“I-” you gasped. Closing your eyes, you took the biggest possible breath you could afford right now. “I'm not sure I want to go there.”
Bucky stared at you in silence, a pained concern spreading across his face. He clenched his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” you continued in a trembling voice. “I don't normally get all-... like that. I’m not a child,” you were babbling mindlessly, fearing that otherwise he would have thought you were a spoiled hysteric.
“I know,” Bucky said immediately, cutting off your train of thought. “Listen…” he began with a hesitation. He let out a quiet sigh and wetted his lips. “We go there and it'll all be over soon. You don’t have to make any decisions yet,” he stated. “I'll be there the whole time. And I won't let anyone hurt you. Alright?” His voice was soft, delicate, but firm and decisive at the same time. “We’ll get out of there anytime you want, huh?”
The longer you stared at Bucky's face, the less anxious you felt. You genuinely believed you would be safe with him. You didn't have the head to wonder why you trusted him implicitly at that moment, but one thought automatically came to you – you needed someone like him in that situation; someone who didn't pressure you.
You nodded, and Bucky smiled. He seemed to relax a little, as if a wave of relief had spread through his body.
“I don’t want to be late.” You sounded weak, embarrassed by the scene from a moment ago. But it looked like Bucky was pretending not to see anything.
“They set the meeting in a pub,” he said with a disapproval that was not far from disgust. “Make them wait.”
Brock greeted you with a smile that faded as soon as Bucky entered the building. Rumlow Senior did a much better job of hiding his displeasure, but still watched him with caution. Bucky, on the other hand, seemed to be completely calm. Bored even.
Brock invited you to a booth, where you and Michael took a seat. Brock and his father sat opposite, and Bucky grabbed a chair from another table and moved it a little closer.
“Seriously,” Brock finally spoke up, indicating impatience. “What's this clown doing here?”
“You don’t know what clowns do, Brock?” Bucky answered. “They make people smile.” He reached for the knife attached to his belt. “Wanna try? I can give you one.”
You watched Bucky and your mouth went dry. You thought it was inappropriate, to say the least – you were sitting in front of, presumably, your future husband, but it was someone else who made you need to wet your throat and collect your thoughts. You had an unclear sense of how Bucky was affecting you, but you told yourself that any handsome man would make a similar impression on you. And Bucky was just that. Beautiful with his blue, sad eyes, nose perfect in every way, and pink, plump lips. Well-built as far as your eyesight could reach. He smelled nice; not as strong and overwhelming as the men you usually came into contact with. And his hair must have been really soft to touch…
Shaking your head to get rid of these thoughts, you reached for the glass of ice water standing in front of you. You stuck your guilt-filled gaze into the table top and dipped your lips into the cold, refreshing liquid.
Michael cleared his throat. “We should get to business.”
The beginning of the conversation was similar to what you had already heard that night when Timothy Barnes turned up at your house. You all knew what the deal was supposed to be about, but Michael had been going over it from the start – he wanted to make sure that there were no misunderstandings, and that the Rumlow Family would not actually use the agreement against yours.
You wondered why Brock didn't interfere; why he didn't have questions, didn't ask for correction or clarification of any issue. And when you glanced at him you noticed that he was looking at you in a way that made you even more nauseous. You couldn't compare it to the situation when John Walker was watching you. Although he was doing it inappropriately, it wasn't harmful. Brock, on the other hand, had something so rejecting and disgusting in his look that you would rather have disappeared out of his sight.
We’ll get out of there anytime you want.
Having remembered Bucky's words, you turned your gaze to him. Yet Bucky wasn’t focusing on you. Running his fingertip over the blunt side of the knife, he stared at Brock.
“How much exactly is there to take over?” Rumlow Senior asked.
“Well…” Michael sighed heavily. “An art gallery, two casinos; one here, the other in Atlantic City, three real estates, shares in the stock market, arms dealing for Mr. Anthony Stark…” he listed for formality; most of the Mafia community knew about each of these things. Except for the location of the real estates Michael had mentioned. “The territory of all activities, the protection of businesses in that area. And political influence.” He took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his jacket. “As long as, of course, you take care of such friends,” he told Brock. “And I must admit that we would prefer to maintain good relationships with them.”
“Cross out the gallery,” you said. “It belongs to me only, and I decide what happens to it.” You seemed surprisingly assertive to everyone in the room, and when you noticed the perplexed looks on both Rumlows’ faces, you forced a falsely sweet smile.
“If that's your only condition…” Brock replied.
“Not really,” Bucky interjected, casually scratching his back with the knife he had played with earlier. “Y/N will have a full view of what is happening with the things she owns. I'm talking about casinos and everything else,” he clarified blandly. “And one hundred percent decision-making in major changes.”
You glanced uneasily at Bucky. Since you had no idea about running your father's business, you didn't need all this. But you understood his strategy – Bucky wanted to secure you against Brock.
Brock clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Looking at him, you thought involuntarily of a bull provoked by a red rag. “What's all this? A fucking prenup?”
Rumlow Senior put his hand on Brock’s shoulder. “Of course,” He smiled mysteriously, ignoring his son's anger. “Miss Y/N will have total control over her father's business. Provided that a male descendant is born within one year of the marriage.”
You were prepared to hear this. However, it seemed to you that Rumlow Senior had maliciously taken advantage of this condition because you and Bucky had got under his skin.
“Write down your version of the agreement, we will do the same,” Michael broke the brief silence, his voice monotone. “We’ll compare both versions and reach the final one.”
Brock offered you something to drink, and hoping to still see something in him that would make the arrangement less painful, you agreed. Michael and Rumlow Senior stayed in the booth; it didn't bother you that they could have already started discussing points of the possible agreement. Bucky was sitting right next to them and you knew he would have intervened on your behalf. What you didn't know was why he was doing it. You didn't even have any grounds to guess, but you decided to go with the assumption that he wanted you in his debt.
You stood at the bar. Although the pub was closed, the bartender was behind the counter, ready to take your order.
“What are you drinking?” Brock asked. “To celebrate our new friendship?” He sized you up in a way that he probably thought was discreet.
You didn't want to celebrate anything. You needed to numb yourself out.
“Tequila?” You smiled with pursed lips.
Brock nodded at the bartender, and the man placed two small glasses and a full bottle on the counter, then poured the alcohol. You grabbed one of the glasses and consumed its content in one steady tilt. The fire burning your throat briefly distracted you from the situation you found yourself in. Grimacing, you slid the glass back to the bartender, who filled it without a word.
“That prenup, you know…” Brock started, taking a step closer to you. “You could've just asked nicely. And I would give you everything you want.” He shrugged. You didn't believe a word he said. But if he actually spoke sincerely, you guessed what he meant by ‘asking nicely’. “You didn't have to bring Barnes here to get it done for you. I'm even a bit discouraged now, to be honest.”
There was a sense of distaste in your mouth that you needed to wash away with another shot of tequila.
“You’re right. Sorry,” you said with insincere remorse, and only did so because it was some way of getting out of this confrontation alive. You believed that if you behaved submissively enough, Brock would leave you alone. But, actually, you felt like laughing. Yes, Brockie, you thought. You’re a genius; so smart, so perfect. And a fucking prick.
“On second thought… You can still ask nicely. I will listen to you in private, what about that?” He moved even closer to you. One of Brock's hands found its way to your hip. Immediately the other followed, and before you knew what was actually happening, Brock was pressing you against his body.
“Take your hands off me, please.” There was no panic in your voice, just patience.
“Why?” He didn't even pretend to be surprised by your request. “Don't you think we should get to know each other better? We don't have much time. I mean, only a year? Minus nine months or whatever,” he added, and it sounded much more disgusting than you could've imagined.
“Get your fucking hands off her, Rumlow, or I’ll break them.”
You didn't even notice when Bucky appeared nearby. The anger, although controlled, was still visible on his face. And it seemed entirely justified to you – Bucky had warned you and Michael about Brock from the very beginning.
Rumlow stepped back reluctantly. “What's the big deal? We are almost married!”
“Do you remember signing anything, Brock? Huh?” Bucky said with apparent calm. “Maybe you do because coke has fried your fucking brain.”
Trying to intimidate him, Brock stood right in front of Bucky. But Bucky turned out to be unfazed by it.
“It will happen. Sooner or later, ‘cause there’s no more profitable candidate on the market, and you know that,” Brock muttered. “And sooner rather than later I’m going to fuck her.” He nodded in your direction. “But don't worry, we'll name our first son James. Or maybe not, since that name seems to bring bad luck. I already know one James who put his daddy in a grave.”
Bucky’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flared, and his chest grew bigger as he took a deep breath through the nose. His mouth curved into a bitter smile. He stared at Brock for a while longer, then moved away, as if he intended to leave you two alone.
“That’s right, Buck. Stay out of it.” Brock turned back to you. “Where were we?” He licked his lips.
He didn't manage to get close to you again. Two hands landed on his shoulders and jerked with such force that Brock fell onto a nearby table. Before he had a chance to do something, Bucky came at him, taking a couple heavy steps. With one hand, he grabbed his shirt and held him in place; with the fist of the other, he punched him in the face hard enough to make Brock stagger again. This, however, enraged him enough to regain some control – Brock attacked Bucky, and he took that gladly.
They exchanged a few blows; Bucky aimed his nimbly and precisely, Brock seemed to strike blindly. And that's probably why he ended up on the floor, with Bucky's shoe print on his dark T-shirt.
Brock was catching his breath and Bucky observed his work, but he didn't finish it off. He stood more or less in the same place from which he had pushed Brock.
You enjoyed it. A lot. It wasn't necessarily about Brock getting what he deserved, but the spectacle itself. Men punching each other – the kind of violence you loved in some twisted way, especially when there was alcohol running through your veins.
Michael and Rumlow Senior were also watching the whole scene. Neither of them intended to react, and both looked as if they were witnessing a fight between two teenagers too young to control their anger and raging hormones.
“Hey…” You turned to the bartender. “Can I get a cloth and some ice?”
Rumlow whispered something to Michael, then helped his son up. “Let’s go, you-” he growled, his mouth set in a hard line. Michael left the pub behind them, presumably to smooth things over.
The bartender placed a clean cloth and a glass filled with ice cubes on the counter. You poured them onto the cloth and folded it, making a cold compress.
When Bucky appeared at the bar, you glanced at him without saying a word. Although the redness stretching from his temple to his cheekbone was quite clear to see, you carefully studied his entire face, trying to find something else there. You weren't sure what exactly, but you were somehow satisfied to notice in his eyes traces of cooled anger slowly turning to consternation.
Again, Bucky was allowing you to come into wordless contact with him, so without any resistance you lowered your gaze to his right hand, resting loosely on the surface of the counter. His knuckles looked much worse than his face, but it didn't surprise you – he threw more punches than he took.
As you looked up at his face, you caught his eyes. They were bored into you.
“Are you going to say anything?” he asked, breaking the silence between you.
“If it was about me, I would say it wasn't the smartest thing you could have done,” you answered, reaching for the prepared compress. You enjoyed the show, but you were worried Bucky had gotten himself into trouble because of that, and it was your fault.
You lifted the compress to his face and pressed it to the side, and he didn't even blink.
“Well, it was about you,” he threw out casually, without making the slightest effort to convince you that this was indeed the case.
“Sure,” You pressed the compress harder, making Bucky wince slightly.
“I’m sorry. I’m being snarky,” he sighed.
“It’s okay. You got every right to be angry,” you claimed. “Brock shouldn’t have brought up your dad like that.”
“You’re right,” Bucky agreed, his voice bland once again. “I could have punched him earlier. Before he even started talking’.”
You smiled slightly and tilted your head, looking at him with the least believable disapproval there was.
“How's your pain?” you asked softly, nodding at his hand.
Bucky looked at it too, then lifted it off the counter, bent and stretched his fingers. “It’s nothing,” he stated, although you could see that the bloody wounds were making him uncomfortable.
The door of the pub slammed, so you both instinctively looked in that direction. You've never seen Michael so annoyed before.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” he scolded Bucky. “Do you have any idea what you just did? Now I have to somehow convince the Rumlows not to give up on us.”
“For what?” Bucky bit back. “To sell your protege to these fu-”
“Watch your tone.”
“Michael,” you began. You intended not only to express your opinion, but also to give Bucky some space; to take Michael off of his back. “You don’t have to convince the Rumlows to anything.”
Michael raised his eyebrows. “How come?”
“Well…” you hesitated, nibbling on your bottom lip. You were aware that he was trying to save your father's life's work, and you weren't making it any easier for him. But it was time to face the truth – Brock was the worst possible candidate. “I don’t think my marriage with Brock will work out. Rumlow Senior doesn’t want to cooperate, he just wants more power. And Brock couldn’t care less about business.” In reality, you had no idea if it was actually the truth. But some gut instinct told you to plant a seed of doubt in Michael.
And you knew you had succeeded – Michael was silent, considering something.
“All right,” he said. “I will contact Rumlow Senior one last time. If they agree to our terms, we will meet with them again. If they demand more, no deal will be done.”
The situation wasn't ideal, but at least you had bought yourself some time.
“And one more thing,” Michael added. “This is the last meeting you attended.” He looked at Bucky. “Whether it's Brock or any other candidate, I don't want to see you. I will not accept you messing with Y/N's head. I want you to stay away from her. Is that clear?”
At first glance, Bucky seemed unmoved. But there was something in his eyes – something strikingly similar to the way he looked at Brock before he came at him.
“Is that clear, Mr. Barnes?”
“Yeah. I heard you the first time,” Bucky answered. He headed to the door, and without saying a word, or at least glimpsing at you, left the pub.
taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob!bucky x y/n#mob bucky#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky#mafia!bucky x reader
554 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Coffee Shop guy and Red Hood IV
Arkham Verse Jason Todd x Male! Nerd Reader
Warning: mention of homophobia and sex, plus some violence
There was a spring in your step as you walked hand in hand with Jason, the streets were busy as it was coming up November. Of course, people had the bright idea of preparing for next month now.
‘Can we check this place when we’re done?’ Jason asked, you nudged your glasses up your face.
‘Yeah, course’ you winked a little, Jason swung his arm a little along with yours.
You two weren’t paying much attention to what was around you, hence how you didn’t notice that you were leaning toward trouble.
‘Look at these two, queers’ a man called out, hanging back with his two men.
‘The fuck you say?’ Jason shot his head round to look at the men.
You nudged Jason a little to say a message of ignore them, without saying it. But Jason saw red.
‘You heard me’ the man said, obviously the leader of the group.
‘You can call me whatever you want, but you do not call my boyfriend anything’ Jason barked, the three men laughed, not taking Jason seriously.
‘Leave it, babe’ you urged by pulling Jason’s arm.
He softened to your voice and touch, allowing you to lead the way.
‘You should’ve let me hit them’ Jason said, voice shaking from anger.
‘Not when you’re Jason Todd, Red Hood does it and no questions asked. And no, that is not an invite to hunt them down later’ you reassured.
You sat with Jason in a diner, neither of you ate much today so you shared a plate of fries and both had a burger.
‘Fuck’ Jason muttered under his breath, you raised an eyebrow.
Turning your head to see the three men from earlier come into the diner. Sitting at a far end table. They seemed to spot you both as they pointed and chuckled.
‘Ignore them’ you urged again, noticing Jason’s fists clenching up.
You placed your hand gently on his, pleading with your eyes.
You both managed to have a good night out as Jason began to forget about the men from earlier. Until one of them shouted an obscenity to you.
Jason rose onto his feet, but you jumped in front of him, placing your hand on his chest.
‘Get them later’ you whispered, winking as Jason nodded.
You both paid for your food and walked out hand in hand, you stuck your finger up at one of the guys.
The three men were causing trouble again, as they were throwing bricks near passing vehicles. Shouting insults to people in the streets.
Obviously, it was no trouble at all for Jason to track down these three men, who had a record as long as his career.
Red Hood landed on top of their car, whistling at them to alert them. They pulled out their knives as Red Hood flipped over their heads.
Red Hood shot one in the arm and then the leg, wrestling the bigger one to the ground with ease. Then giving a hard kick to the head, knocking him out.
The third, the leader, Jason grabbed his arm and twisted until he heard a loud crack and the man let out a scream.
‘Why?’ The shot man asked, holding his leg.
‘Those two men, from the diner. They’re good friends of mine. And I don’t appreciate the things you said’ he charged and grabbed hold of the man’s shot arm.
The man winced in pain, Red Hood let out a chuckle.
‘Painful? Oops. Maybe this’ll teach you and your fellas here, to be a little nicer to everyone’ he said lowly as he finished off with letting the man drop on the floor.
‘Put pressure here, it’ll slow the bleeding’ he said, hesitating with his thoughts. But still, he didn’t want to kill them. Just make a point.
Sometimes, Jason looked at criminals like these three and felt a tiny hint of pity on them. Unsure why though, however he just wanted to scare them.
‘Done?’ You asked as you came out of the kitchen, Jason nodded.
‘Made sure they went in the ambulance ok, felt bad for shooting one of them. But it was non lethal spots, plus it hopefully scared them enough to be nice’ Jason said, taking his jacket off.
You walked over and gave Jason a kiss on the lips, him lifting you up off your feet.
He took your shirt off along with his, carrying you around the place. Upside down on his back.
‘My glasses are gonna fall off’ you said, taking them off and placing them on the table.
Jason laughed as he threw you off his back and onto the bed. Kissing your chest, stomach and then pulling your pants down.
‘Time for some fun’ Jason growled as he pulled your underwear down.
You gripped the bed sheets as Jason lowered himself and took you into his mouth. Making you moan out his name.
As always, Jason knew how to work you and get you to the end. He knew your body so well, and all its sweet spots.
Not to sound too vulgar, but Jason knew the exact spots to hit with you that most of the time you wouldn’t need to jerk yourself, he’d be so deep in you hitting it himself.
The rainy nights were the best for the winter, as it meant you weren’t in a hurry to leave. But Jason insisted on taking you to laser tag. He was surprised you’d never done it before.
Just simple things like these, innocent moments that Jason had. Times he showed his more fun and outgoing side, it made you fall more in love with him every time.
Moments like these, you never wanted to forget. Moments, Jason would always treasure. He went from the menacing and ruthless Arkham Knight, to the killing machine Red Hood, to this giant yet so loving and caring man.
#red hood#gotham#red hood fanfiction#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd#jason todd x male reader#jason todd x nerd#red hood x male reader#red hood x nerd
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
Note: Tumblr deleted the video, But I have reuploaded it.
Bisan posted videos on her Instagram account, documenting all the events that occurred today. I compiled them into one clip and added a caption.
It's important to watch it to understand the suffering they are going through and to share it so that everyone knows.
And don't forget to pray for her and all the people of Gaza
a Transcription of everything she said in the video:
This is Bisan from Gaza. I'm still alive.
Today is the 30th day of the war in Gaza, and this might be the last update I can provide to you.
I'm not sure if I will survive until tomorrow in these conditions.
I will give you an update for the past two days and this night, the last night.
What happened is that the Israeli army started targeting any way to survive.
They are targeting any way to generate electricity.
The Israeli army targeted the whole solar cells in the whole Gaza City, over buildings, over bakeries, and anywhere that contains solar cells - it was bombed.
The Israeli army bombed the major petroleum and water tanks in Gaza City as well.
The wheat stocks and the bakeries were threatened that if they were open, they would be bombed, and they ran out of petrol and wheat.
But then after obtaining some, their stocks were bombed.
Tonight, there's been no piece of bread in Gaza City for four days, and there's no clean drinking water anywhere because we need electricity to find the water.
After bombing the infrastructure and any way to obtain water or bread, they dropped between 100 to 300 white phosphorus bombs over Shati refugee camp, which is near Al-Shifa hospital. The gas spread throughout Gaza City, and tonight, my eyes, nose, and mouth started burning, I had a headache, and people started coughing and trying to find shelter.
They dropped the gas to evacuate us and lead us to go outside Gaza.
This morning, after cutting off the internet and connections, they dropped leaflets from the sky telling people that they have to evacuate to the south.
They have to evacuate to the south, walking without using any vehicle.
It's planned - this is genocide, with people striving, no food, no water, white phosphorus, and then forcing us to leave.
Even if we survive the white phosphorus and the bombings, if in the schools, hospitals, and our homes there is no food and clean water, all we have is salty water from the sea.
They are trying to kill a million people by hunger, making them thirsty and sick.
There's no aid, and 0.8 can enter the north.
A million people are still in the north.
There's no food, no water.
This is the paper that was dropped today.
They are trying to push us to the borders, near the desert, making the safe areas smaller and smaller.
We are two million people still here.
So, people are celebrating 100-meter airdrops, but they are not entering Gaza; they are not reaching the hospitals.
They are to the south of Gaza, we're in the north.
More than a million people are in the north, and a million people are in the south.
These airdrops are not enough, do not contain fuel, and about going to the north, we need fuel, medical supplies, food - we cannot get anything.
The media needs to talk about this; people need to talk about this - we're hungry.
We used to eat once a day, but now, even this time, we cannot afford it.
There's no value for our existence, for our money, and there's no product to buy - there's nothing.
Many people are struggling, and people are dying because of hunger, and there is no clean water.
#gaza#palestine#gaza strip#free gaza#free palestine#storiesfromgaza#غزة#فلسطين#genocide#humanitarian crisis
244 notes
·
View notes
Text
Visitor
Having my office at the Uni, I get lots of calls for various things, relating to my advanced education, especially in the area of the mind. Well Jennifer was no exception and came bouncing in for my last appointment on a Friday. I just love how excited some Freshmen get when we talk. My name is Sheila and Jennifer came to me by way of email ([email protected])
Hi, I'm Jenn, she told me, and I work for the Freshman paper. I suggested they do an article on mind trappings, hoping we could talk about it. We shook hands and she kept standing there looking at me, holding onto my hand for quite a long time. After we sat down, listening to her babbling on and on, I set the metronome sitting on my desk into a slow tedious motion. It created a slight clicking sound in the background. click click click Neither of us paid much attention to it. When there was a slight pause, I noticed she just paused and looked at the metronome. I was thinking of interjecting something that came to my mind about what she might enjoy.
I mentioned hypnosis as a method of helping students with some mental gymnastics relating to difficulties they might be having. Jenn, just listened intently taking notes and occasionally looking up at me.
For instance I think you might have seen a part of the Jungle Book, by Disney that had a snake named Kaa and a man cub interacting. Kaa seemed to almost hiss out his words, as he talked with the boy. Like, ssssssss. Each and every time, ssssssss. click click click It was very effective in probing the boy's mind, remember that? Jenn, said only yessssssss in response, nodding her head to the pace of the metronome. Jenn's pen dropped from her hand as the image projected behind me, was of Kaa and the man cub. That time with the snake, Kaa, opened a portal into the boy's mind. Sinking deep, each sssssss that reached his ears. Opening an avenue for Kaa to control the boy. yessssssss Hypnosis is the vehicle to allow that, Jenn.
While Jenn was staring at the image, I slid next to her close enough where she could feel my breath and hear my whispers in her ear. Thinking about Kaa helps you feel relaxed, Jenn.... her reply was faint, yesssss hissing like Kaa. I told her I thought that sounded very sensual. Another yesssss, was all she said. My hand rested on her thigh just inches from her heat. Jenn tried to tear her eyes away from the image so she could look at me. You like my eyes, Jenn. eyesssss yessssss, I really do your lipssssss too. She looked from my eyes to my lips and back just as I changed the image to a pretty spiral. I heard her gasp and try to keep watching it closely. Follow closely, Jenn. yessssssss
Jenn, dropping deeper, happily slipping down for Sheila... yessssssss Forgetting why you are here, forgetting what I said or what you heard. Its not important at all. Obedience is pleasure, Jenn. You have been wanting to seduce me and use that seduction to have me addicted to you and your beautiful body. When you awaken you will feel that need to seduce Sheila and nothing else. That need over powers your mind, and body.... now feeling more alert yessssssss and happy..... and filled with desire.... for Sheila.
WOW Sheila, I am so glad you had time to talk. I am so happy!!
(to be continued)
I smiled as Jenn glanced at the spiral for about 2-3 minutes then turned to me and flew into my arms, kissing me with passion, molding her body to mine. Oh Sheila I don't know what got into me, but I have to say.... I love kissing you. Frankly I don't have any notes of what you said, nor do I remember a single thing, so could we meet again, please... oh please....
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
ALL FOR AN OREO SHAKE ! ; gojo satoru
> both you and gojo forget your wallets on a day out. chaos ensues.
you've been in your fair share of awful situations.
once, you'd accidentally bottomed a bag of salty chip residue on your skinned knee as a child. even the memory makes your scars sting. another time, you had opened the door to the wrong car and got in, and neither you nor the driver had realised that you were in the wrong vehicle until you were 10 minutes out. that one had made for an awkward conversation.
but you think that this takes the cake. literally, too.
"you're kidding," you groan, dropping your head against the dainty white tablecloth, "you seriously forgot yours too?"
your best friend and classmate, gojo satoru, slumped in his seat across from you looking equally as distraught. "yeah. oh my god, this blows."
the both of you had been pining to try out a new dessert shop that had recently opened up a little ways away from your school. it was a fancy establishment, and quite busy too, meaning that you it was typically full unless you had a reservation. and today, months after the both of you had resolved to try the place out, was the first day they've had an opening since the shop had been established.
and it's just your luck that both of you had forgotten your wallets.
"how does this even happen?" gojo's hand drags down his face dramatically as he whines. you sigh.
"bad luck? good luck? divine intervention? we might've gotten, like, diabetes from that milkshake you wanted."
"it would've been the best diabetes of our lives," your companion laments. you glance up at him with narrowed eyes to make sure he's not actually crying because that was a real possibility with him.
he looks fully distraught, too, and truly on the verge of tears- until he feels something in his pocket. his face practically lights up as he pulls a crumpled piece of currency out of his pants pocket. it's just enough to cover the price of a singular drink.
he says something excited and jubilant but you're a little too caught up by his radiance to really process what he's saying. gojo satoru has been your best friend for far too long now, and you've loved him to pieces for almost every moment of that time. through everything bad, through the best, through times where you really shouldn't have, all of it. and all in a way that you shouldn't- a way that meant more than being just friends. but you'd never said a thing, and neither had he, and it had stayed that way forever.
"okay, cool," you resolve, "so you get your drink and i'll sit here."
"or we get a drink."
"not possible. we, as a collective, are too broke for 2 drinks."
"so why don't we just get one?"
gojo's always had this one expression that meant he had an idea. his grin twitched upwards more on the right side, to the point where his dimples peeked through the skin of his cheek, and his eyes, always bluer than blue, closed a little bit. in his youth, his cheeks had been chubby and rosy and plump and your mother liked to pinch them when she saw him. now, they were reduced to porcelain stretched over a sharp jawline and high cheekbones.
he was a good-looking guy, though you'd never say it out loud because god knows his ego didn't need that. which is probably why the waitress who came over when he waved tripped over her words so heavily when gojo had asked for, "a large oreo shake, please. 2 straws."
she twirled her hair after scribbling something down on her notepad and giggled: "oh, the shakes here are the best! you should so let me show you some more another time."
you frown. gojo grins. "i dunno. maybe."
"i'm usually on shift these times on thursdays and fridays, y'know."
"that's crazy," he informs the girl, who seemed to be about your age, 18-ish, "super wild."
you make a face at him. he notices and sticks his tongue out at you and gets that look, that stupid, stupid, look before he reaches out across the table and grabs your hand. "maybe me 'nd my partner should come back sometime."
you are absolutely, positively sure that you're grimacing right now. there's a hurricane of emotions swirling in the pit of your stomach as the waitress mutters something and darts away, evidently embarrassed.
"that was a fucking awful idea," you eventually manage to get out.
"sure it was, babe."
"..did you just— what did you just call me?"
he kicks your shins under the table. in a low voice, he whispers: "c'mon, play along! i don't want her to hit on me again."
you roll your eyes, feeling a surge of what should feel like relief but instead reads like disappointment instead: "i thought you liked the attention."
"yeah, but i like yours better."
the way he said that so effortlessly puts you at a loss for words again and you retract your hand and shield your face. "i hate you."
"no, no you don't. you love me."
"says who?"
"me."
you frown. "your word means nothing, dumbass."
"then why do you always listen to me?"
you don't really know how to reply. you don't think you can. he continues: "and you laugh at my jokes. and you hang out with me. and you help me with my homework when i don't want to. even when i'm shitty."
"oh," you say.
"you love me," he restates.
"i guess i do."
"good," he smiles as you sink into your seat with embarrassment, "because you're gonna have to take me to the hospital when i overdose on the sugar that's gonna be in this drink."
gojo doesn't say it, but it hangs in the air. the unspoken reciprocation, the hidden feelings beneath the flesh. it shines through in how he lets you have the first sip of the drink, and how he laughs when your face crinkles at the sheer sweetness. it shows in how he moves to wipe off the non-existent smudges on your lower lip, and how he calls you pretty when you smile at him, and how he sneaks candid photos when you're not looking.
gojo satoru likes you too. he's not about to speak it out loud, but he lets it be known in other ways. one day, when he's older, he'll tell you. but right now he's 17 with a big head and bigger plans- every single one of them involves you.
he thinks that around the same time next season, before the last year of high school ends, he'll say it. it'll work out then, he's sure— but right now, he's content with sharing a coma-inducing drink and pretending like he only wants you as a best friend, just for the time being.
✄ written for the mitsies 3k follower event using the prompts “sure it is, babe.” “..did you just— what did you just call me?” + everyone thinks you guys are dating— one day you both decide to play along
[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]
#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojou x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojou#satoru gojou#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojou satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satorugojo#jjk fluff#jjk#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojo#jujutsu kaisen#mitsies 3k#reader insert
416 notes
·
View notes
Note
Lando or Pierre and if your wearing his clothes 🙂
Wearing His Clothes
Summary : Blurb (imagine idk the difference tbh) of how Pierre and Lando would react to you wearing their clothes Rating : 18+ Pairing : Pierre x Reader & Lando x Reader Word Count : Fairly short Warnings : NSFW, 18+, adult material and language, fingering and implied sex
Pierre -
- Pierre was too busy texting on his phone to realise you walked past wearing one of his white linen shirts.
- It was far too hot in your apartment and so you only put it on for decencies sake after getting out of your shower
- When you pass by him for the third time he finally looks up and a smirk washed over his face
- “Is that mine?” He knew damn well it was but it wasn’t like you were wearing it for the reasons he thought in his dirty, dirty mind
- “If you wanna fuck you just have to say so” he purrs as soon as you sit down next to him on the big cloud like sofa. He immediately pulls your legs into his lap and runs his hand up and down the silky smooth skin of your shin
- “Pierre….I have a report to finish.” You had picked up your laptop with the intent of actually getting some work done but he leaned in and closed it again.
- “The only thing you have to finish is me.” He said and you followed his eyes downward towards the defined tent that had grown in his grey sweatpants.
- You would be lying if you said the outline of his impressive erect cock straining to be contained within his choice of clothing (one that he knew always had you riled up) didn’t have your mouth salivating.
- “Pierrrrreeee….” You sighed back but his hand was already pushing up your thigh and he already knew you weren’t wearing any panties.
- You had never disregarded work. It was so important to you but for Pierre, it was forgotten about in a second.
- When his fingertips gently begin to tease your clit with feathery circular touches you would have forgotten your own name.
- “You need to wear my clothes more.” He says “Now I’ll always have the memory of you cumming in this when I wear it.” He motioned down to the shirt and your eyes immediately go lower to see his hand in between your thighs and it was almost enough to send you over the edge with just an image.
Lando -
- “Uh, babe, I’ve lost my jacket. Have you seen it?” You ask frantically looking in Lando’s drivers room for the stupid missing item
- He was in a rush because Max has offered the pair of you a quicker ride back to Monaco in the jet he had chartered.
- “No but here…fling this on and I’ll get someone to look for it when we leave.” You didn’t want to go without the jacket and felt bad for the person who would have to look for it but you accepted the pair of you needed to move, so you flung his McLaren waterproof on.
- It completely swamped you and you kept having to pull the sleeves up but it was doing the job of keeping you warm.
- On the way to the helipad, you realise Lando keeps looking over at you
- “What?” You can’t help but smile. You had an incline into what it was but when he leaned across the vehicle and planted a very firm kiss on your lips you knew.
- “Fuck…” he swore “I shouldn’t have done that.”
- “Why?” You ask innocently
- “Because kissing you and seeing you wearing my clothes….” He got even closer and lowered his voice again “you’ve gotten me so hard.”
- Your eyes immediately went to his crotch and sure enough he was strained against the fabric.
- It was only you and him in the car heading to the airport. Well and the driver but he was probably handsomely paid to forget everything that went on in the car when he was transporting well known people around.
- So with a smirk you reach over and glide your hand over his crotch and true to his word, he was completely rock hard at just seeing you in his team merch.
- A hushed groan fell from his parted mouth when you gently palmed him a few times before pulling away
-“Thank fuck we’re going to be home in two hours and I can punish you for that.” He ground his teeth together
-“I hope that’s a promise.”
#Pierre Gasly#lando norris#pg#ln#Pierre Gasly x reader#Lando Norris x reader#f1 blurb#f1 smut#f1 requests#f1 imagine#pierre gasly one shot#Pierre gasly fic#pierre gasly blurb#pierre gasly imagine#Lando Norris one shot#Lando Norris fic#Lando Norris blurb#Lando Norris imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Signed Away: Epilogue
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Fem!Reader Series
Summary: You find out about the contractual marriage your parents arranged with Jake’s when you were a baby. You’re plently angered by it, but Jake doesn’t seem too bothered. He might even be happy.
Notes/Warnings: smut-ish 18+, cursing, pregnancy.
Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, or commented on any part of this story. I very much appreciate it, and I’m glad this was something people could enjoy and wanted to stick around for :)
Masterlist
Words: 3659
-----
“Jakey Seresin!”
You plopped down on your knees in the patchy wet grass, dirty droplets soaking into the fabric of your flowery dress and ruining the cream-colored tights covering your legs.
He heard you but didn’t stop molding the straight, raised path of solid mud in front of him, a couple feet long, smooth on top, and about five inches in width. You watched his mud-caked fingers work, tilting your head like a puppy searching for understanding. With a twig he drew a careful line down the center of his creation, then he tossed the stick aside and stretched an arm high so the toy airplane he held could soar above both of your heads.
"I wanna marry you," you said when he still hadn't acknowledged you.
Jake’s eyes followed the plane, but his nose wrinkled in disgust. “No way. I’m never getting married.”
“Why?” you whined, bottom lip protruding in a pout.
“Because girls are yucky,” he said.
The plane circled the space between you then went in for the landing. His thumb flicked a tiny piece of plastic on the toy and small wheels shot out from the belly of the plane.
“I’m not yucky!”
He paused, looked at you with a huff, and dropped the vehicle in his lap. “Sure, you are,” he teased. He pinched your cheek and pulled, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to give new shape to your face. “And you’re just a little baby.”
“I am not!” You tried to speak with determination, but the awkward elongation of your mouth from his tugging fingers made the words come out sloppy and muddled.
“You’re four,” he countered and released your cheek. “That’s a baby.”
“I’m almost five!” you snapped as you held up your hand, spreading all five fingers wide so he could clearly count each one.
“You still have nap time.”
“Not forever! I’ll grow up! Then we can get married.”
He appeased you with a pretend moment of consideration, then he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
With a sigh of disappointment your head fell, forcing Jake’s muddy craft project to invade your line of sight. It sprouted new interest, allowing you to forget your heartbreak. “What did you make?”
When you looked up, Jake was staring at you, waiting for you to say more. A blond eyebrow rose. “Why?”
You shrugged. “I want to know.”
Another few beats of uncertainty passed before a grin took over his face. A glimmer shone in his eyes; excitement evident in the language of his body. “Ok, well these,” he pointed to the wiggly lines etched into the mud around his man-made construction, “are waves in the water. And this,” he motioned his finger up and down the long path, “is a runway. Like on an aircraft carrier.”
“What’s an aircraft car-eer?”
“Carry-er.”
“Carry-er,” you repeated.
He nodded. “It’s kinda a big boat. Navy jets take off and land on it in the ocean.”
“That’s weird,” you giggled, and Jake shrugged.
“Well, when I’m older I’m gonna be a pilot.”
“A pilot?”
“Yea. They fly the planes…jets and stuff.”
“Woah.” Your eyes widened. You weighed his words in your mind, tossing them around until you settled on your own understanding. “I’m gonna marry a pilot!”
Jake snorted and shook his head, then he picked up one of his planes. “Here,” he said, handing it to you. He watched your little fingers wrap around the wing. “Play with me.”
—--
26 years later
“I can feel your eyes on me,” you said.
You were staring out the window of your home, loving how even in the winter, the sun shined bright—its warmth carried on the breezes traveling from the ocean that was your backyard. California was different than Texas in many ways, but the lack of winter chill was something you were glad to have be the same. You’d had your fill of the cold season over the past few years with Jake’s job taking you around the world. And while you loved the experiences and people and cultures, California offered things no other place could. Mainly, your family—or adopted family as you had taken to calling them—settled down all in one place.
“My eyes are always on you.”
Jake’s voice was as soft as the breath that caressed the shell of your ear. You shivered from the feel of it, gooseflesh spreading on your arms and raising the short hairs there. His hands rested on your shoulders and he began to knead his fingers into the exposed flesh, easily working around the thin, yellow straps of your dress. Under his touch, your body relaxed and allowed the massage to loosen any knots.
“You seem tired," he said.
You chuckled but it quickly turned into a moan as his thumbs met at the base of your neck and pressed against your spine, moving up and down in slow strokes from your hairline to the chain of your necklace and back. “Carrying your child inside me is no easy feat."
“If it makes you feel any better, you look amazing while you're doing it."
His lips replaced his fingers, drawing a line of gentle kisses over your shoulder. The second moan you released was met with a subtle growl, so low no one but you could’ve possibly heard it had a hundred people been near. Each kiss lasted longer than the one before and you loved falling into it. Whenever he kissed you, regardless of where, each nerve ending in your system happily hummed and tingled and begged for more. You could lose track of time that way. Often did.
You twisted in his arms and wrapped your own around his neck, willingly accepting the touch of his lips to yours. He ran the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you opened your mouth so it could slip inside to play. Fingers snuck under the hem of your dress. Rough palms dragged up your thighs and around to your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer. You savored the feeling while you could. Soon your belly would be too large for him to hold you this way.
When you separated for a breath, Jake's eyes grazed down to your neck. His finger traced along the thin chain, down to the new diamond that now sat at the center of your clavicles. "You like this?"
"I love it,” you said. “I love you.”
“I love you, baby.” he brushed a soft kiss on your forehead. "And now you know how much."
"I've always known, Jake." Always known—never questioned it—even when he’d neglected to inform you of what your mother had tried to do to the two of you. It came from a place of love, fueled by an instinctual need to protect you and the future you could have. The future you eventually got.
"You were supposed to be off all day. What did they call you in for?" you asked.
"To get a couple things ready for the new class. Did Rooster come by already?"
"Yep. We're all set. So what do you want to do for our special day, Mr. Seresin?"
"It’s not wise to ask me that, Mrs. Seresin,” he said, tucking some of your hair back behind your ear. “We'll end up staying in bed all day."
"Oh, that would be very tragic."
He chuckled. "I gotta take you by the bar. Penny has a baby gift that she said she won't hand over unless she gets to see you herself."
When Jake decided to be a pilot after you were released from the contract, he quickly became one of the best, and it put him in line with his friends in no time. But being one of the best granted him the attention that brought you to California two years ago—to Top Gun. While you’d been unbelievably proud of him, that mission nearly killed you. You’d sat at home, not sleeping, your knees constantly bouncing, your nails whittled down to nubs. With your family off risking their lives, all you had was Penny. She understood; she took care of you. She became a friend, a confidant, and something of a mother figure.
“And after the bar?”
“Whatever your heart desires, sweetheart.”
—--
You watched him, your eyes glued to his face as he laughed loudly enough to fill the space, his head thrown back from something Penny said, his teeth on full display, and blond hair shimmering in the midday sunlight that coated the inner walls of the bar.
He was so beautiful. He’d chuckle if you ever spoke it aloud, but it was nothing short of the truth. Every line and plane of his face seemed so carefully crafted. Like the work of an artist; a sculptor chipping away at a block marble to uncover the hidden beauty within. There was no poor angle; no slip of the chisel. He was undeniably perfect. And he was yours.
Ten years had passed since your wedding. Ten years of growing, of loving, of aging, and yet Jake looked just as good as he did when he stood across from you in front of that altar. Better, actually, when you gave it a thought. He had delicate little lines across his forehead, some at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but all a decade had really done was make him stronger, harder, wiser, firmer. He was a wall of a man. Somehow broader. Somehow thicker. But still devastatingly attractive. The same and yet different.
When you pulled out your wedding photo that morning—the one you’d chosen not to hang on your pale blue wall; the one that was partially blurry because you were both too giddy to stand still—you were amazed at how young you looked. Babies. Without any physical wear and tear. Both fresh and new and standing a little taller after the weight of your mother was off your shoulders. It was so far from yesterday, but you could still remember every second of that day and the days that followed. You could remember having the thought that your happiness in that bungalow wouldn’t carry through to the rest of your life; that surely it wasn’t possible. But Jake made it possible.
Your new reality was wrapped in happiness, and everything else—the business, the contract, your mother—became a dream. It all slipped away, losing power until you could finally say that you no longer acknowledged that life. You took the lessons you learned and stepped into a different world. A world with Jake.
He laughed again.
You had promised one another you’d do something special for the day—lunch at your favorite restaurant or maybe an afternoon at the beach. But as you stared at your husband, you knew you didn’t need anything else. He was all you wanted. So after Penny smiled and threw her arms around you and handed you the gift—a silver rattle with the words Baby Seresin etched into the rounded shape—you leaned over and whispered in your husband’s ear all the things you wanted him to do to you.
At that moment, any plans you'd considered for the day were canceled. He said a quick goodbye to Penny and grabbed your hand, dragging you out the door before you could finish your glass of water.
You ended up doing exactly as he’d teased—spent the rest of the day in bed, kissing and fucking and loving every second of your bodies giving and taking the pleasure between you. You surrendered to the heat of the room, the thick air dampening your skin and molding you together. Pregnant as you were, you were surprised you managed to last so long, but Jake did everything to keep you in safe positions, comfortable and cared for until you’d thoroughly exhausted one another.
You laid side by side, both staring at the ceiling, your chests rising and falling—admittedly, Jake’s a little more vigorously.
“Any chance you’re hungry after all of that?” he asked through heavy breaths.
“Starving.”
His fingers intertwined with yours and he sat up. “Come on, baby.”
As you walked through the door, you noticed for the first time that the sun's light had faded while you were holed up in your room. What felt like an hour, turned into many, and darkness sprouted stars in the sky.
Jake led you down the stairs, his hand not dropping from yours until he opened the fridge to grab a leftover cupcake from the original dozen Phoenix had whipped up for you. He pulled the shiny wrapper down and tore off a small piece of the cake before holding it up to your lips. You parted them for him and he slowly pushed the sweet sponge into your mouth.
Vanilla icing clung to the top of your lip as you chewed and with his index finger Jake swiped it off, sticking it in his mouth and sucking.
He smirked. "I can still taste you on my finger through the icing."
"Let me see." You snatched his hand and wrapped your lips around his extended finger, tracing and swirling the tip of your tongue over the digit.
Jake groaned.
"Baby, you can't do shit like this." His voice was rough, gravelly, deliciously drowning in lust while his eyes followed your mouth sliding up his finger before releasing it with a pop. "You know I'm just going to want to throw you onto that bed again."
"Maybe that's the whole poin—"
"Whatever dirty things you're doing to each other, stop now!" You jumped at the sound of Rooster’s voice coming from down the hall. Neither of you heard the door open, too distracted by one another. "An innocent child is about to enter the room."
"We aren't doing anything," you called back.
“Anymore,” Jake mumbled as he kissed your temple.
Rooster cautiously peeked his head around the corner, a dark eyebrow raised and eyes scanning up and down your bodies to ensure you were fully clothed. "Oh, good. You never know with the two of you."
"You walked in on us one time, Rooster."
"And it scarred me for life."
The two-year-old child on Rooster's hip was giggling non-stop. So much so that his rounded cheeks had turned bright red. You grinned at the look on his little face—the joy he displayed as he laughed and wiggled in your friend’s arms.
"Mama!"
"Hi, bug!" you said. "Come here."
Rooster set your son on his feet and he dashed over to you, ramming into your legs and wrapping his tiny arms around them as best he could. You ran your fingers through his blond hair, straightening out the messy locks.
"Up!"
Jake chuckled and plucked his son off the floor. "Mama can't pick you up right now, little man. Do you remember why?"
"Sissy?"
"Mhmm. Mama is carrying your baby sister," he said, placing his palm against your rounded stomach. "Right in there."
You laid your hand atop his, returning the beaming smile Jake was shooting you before looking to Rooster.
"How was he?" You asked.
"Easy as always. We had a great time. Watch this—Hey Caleb, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
"I'm gonna be a pilot like Daddy and Uncle Roo and Auntie Nat and—
You sighed. "Oh, lord."
"Well would you look at that, sweetheart."
"And let me guess: all of you are going to teach him now that you're instructors?"
"Absolutely," Rooster chimed. "My godson will be taught by no one but the best."
Jake nodded, poking at his son's belly with his free hand until the beautiful song of his giggles rang through the room again. "We're gonna have to start practicing our saluting, aren't we, little man?"
"Yes, Daddy."
Jake kissed his cheek and put him down, giving a little pat to his back. "Alright, go say goodnight to Uncle Rooster."
Rooster crouched and spread his arms wide for a hug, and Caleb took off across the tiled floor, launching into him.
The two had a special bond. Rooster, like the rest of your friends, truly was family. And with your parents not in your son’s life and Jake’s still in Texas, you were thrilled Caleb had more people around to love him. You were able to give him what you never had, and every time you saw them together, it was one more reassurance that you were nothing like the woman who birthed you.
"Bye, bye, Uncle Roo."
"Bye, kiddo. Sleep well, ok?"
"Ok."
Caleb twisted in his spot and hopped back over to his father, gripping his outstretched hand with all ten fingers and swinging it back and forth. Jake let his arm fall limp, allowing Caleb to flail it about as he pleased.
"Thank you, Rooster," you said, hoping the sincerity was evident in your tone.
"I'm always here when you guys need a little break." He winked.
Then he left, likely to make his way to the Hard Deck to see the young fiery-haired bartender who had become your friend after you discovered your children were attached at the hip from daycare. She was sweet and loveable and you knew why he liked her. It was about time another one from your small group found someone.
“Alright,” Jake began, “Bedtime.”
—--
"Is he out?" You asked as Jake shuffled into your bedroom.
"Like a light."
He peeled his clothes off, a piece falling to the floor with each step toward your bed. Then the comforter was pulled back and he snuck under it, settling into the mattress and yanking your body against his.
You giggled, limbs uncontrollably writhing when his nose began to nuzzle your neck. "Jake, it tickles. Stop."
"No," he whined. “You smell too good."
You hummed contently as a kiss met your skin. "What do I smell like?"
"Just…” he sucked and nibbled, “like you."
A beat passed. Then suddenly your bottom lip moved on its own, the beginning of the quivers you were unsuccessful in tamping down. Carefully flipping onto your side to face him, you rose a hand to cup his cheek.
“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” he whispered. Your faces were so close, noses nearly touching, and his question was a warm puff of heat against your lips.
That question had a dozen answers. The tears welled from countless places, pulling from every feeling contained in each cell of your body. You cried because you loved him. You cried because of how good he could make you feel. You cried because of what you had, and what you'd made. You cried because of the letter he left you that morning before going to work; the one that sat beside the box holding the diamond necklace now around your neck.
You blinked to clear the salty liquid that was blurring his face, squeezed-out tears falling and soaking into your pillow. “I’ve known you my whole life” you said, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb.
“And that makes you,” his brows twisted in confusion, “sad?”
“No, Jake. That makes me grateful.”
Dimples carved into his cheeks, then he closed the space, lips sealing, fingers tangling into your hair. It tasted sweet, a sugary hint still clinging to the walls of your mouths from the icing you’d both sucked on.
Your body sank further into the mattress and your only thought was: Stay. Stay where you are, in the arms of the man who saved you and loved you, who you, too, saved and loved. Stay where you’re content and warm from the weight of his body beside you. Stay in this moment where your child sleeps soundly down the hall and the one inside you continues to healthily grow. Such a perfect time to freeze your life, and bottle it up for safe keeping.
But you couldn’t stay. You would have to continue on, as people do. Though, you weren’t afraid anymore. It had been ten years since the thought of your future terrified you. You couldn’t fear the next chapters of your life if you tried. There was too much good. Too much hope.
Jake took a breath. Smiled. Kissed your forehead. “Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart,” he said.
And you replied, “Happy Anniversary, Jake.”
—--
Sweetheart,
I’m sorry I couldn’t wake up with you. I got called into work this morning, but I’ll come back to you soon. Maybe the necklace will make up for it?
I want you to know something. Hopefully you already know it, though. Hopefully I’ve proven it time and time again. If not, then I’ll have to spend the next ten years doubling down on the effort, because you deserve nothing less. You deserve everything, baby.
I want you to know how much I love you. I know you know that I do love you, but the depths of it, Sweetheart…it's hard to find the words to fully explain. But I’m going to try anyway:
You are the love of my life. You’re the love of any life I might’ve had. Of any direction my life might have taken or any universe we might have lived in, it would always be you. Had we not been friends as children, had we not been neighbors or gone to the same school or had parents that forced us together, it still wouldn’t have mattered. I believe we would’ve found each other, somehow. I believe you were made for me, and I for you, and anything else would not have been enough.
You and I faced the biggest challenge we possibly could have and we made it out. We fought our way out, baby. And we built something perfect. We’ve given each other so much. Love and support and care. We gave each other Caleb and our baby girl, and I couldn’t ask for more. There isn’t anything else I want or need. I have our children. I have you. I have it all.
I love you, sweetheart. Always. Happy Anniversary.
x Jake
THE END…kind of
---
A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who read and supported this story. It’s really meant a lot to me :) Hopefully this was a satisfying ending in some way. There will be future fics stemming from this so if you liked Signed Away, look out for those. Also, requests are open if anyone has any ideas for future things they’d like to see.
To @xoxabs88xox, that thing we talked about happening is being moved to a future fic.
Join my taglist
@nobody7102 @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @teacupsandtopgun @himbos-on-ice @happypopcornprincess @violyn20 @jordanturpen @buckymcu12 @jerseybagel @nagygreta @rintheemolion @coldmuffinbanditshoe @avengersgirllorianna @oliviah-25 @talkfastromance4 @ysl-bby @chibijusstuff @kmsryles343 @sky1004 @sometimesicryintheshower @cookielovesbook-akie @yanna-banana @taylahk109 @buxkybarnez @elijahmikaelsonbitch @ravenhood2792 @potato-girl99981 @eccentricnos @kembry107 @pono-pura-vida @topguncultleader @v0id-chaos @scrappybear89 @stiles-banshees @audri-janis @jake-seresins-girl @caidi-paris @princessphilly @castle-bookworms-world @blackwidownat2814 @acupnoodle @callmemana @asteria33 @the-mouse27 @111angelnumbers111 @shanimallina87 @creativitybeware @roosterscock @love2write2626 @adaydreamaway08 @tcfanmania @dinosaurous @abaker74 @chassy21 @beaner-life-23 @iblogtopassthetime @indynerdgirl @tsnelf7 @cappot @itsmytimetoodream @capswife @lilylilyyyyyy @zbeez-outlet @misshoneypaper @ateliefloresdaprimavera @djs8891 @havlindzk @et-homephone
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin fic#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin x female!reader#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun fic#top gun maverick hangman#tgm#tgm fic#hangman x reader#glen powell#jake hangman seresin x you
481 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hide & seek
141 + könig x gen z member
A/N: Readers goes by the code name Widow in my writing. Along with she/her pronounces. I am biased with König and Ghost but for this story, König and her are the main pair. The reader is Latina, I'll use Spanish more in the next story. I know 0% about the military, I'll do my research and try my best. Am not good at writing at all just saying.
Minors do not interact!
CWs: Dark Humor, Age gaps, simping, crude Humor, cursing, might forget some but if I do lmk. I can't spell right for the life of me, my bad. This is a long read sorry.
" This is going to be fun" ghost turns to his side where the giggling voice said. Looking at the shorter girl to his right. " what did ya do?" He asked in a serious matter-of-fact tone.
"Huh I didn't do anything..yet," you said pouting, the last part coming out as a whisper. Hoping he wouldn't hear, but he heard you.
Ghost frowned and said in a more worried full tone " Widow, you didn' burn some shit up again'. Right?"
You looked up and gasped offended by his comment. You almost burn down the entire kitchen ONCE!, while trying to cook. One time was enough to get you banned from touching the stove, and you now need a babysitter to make sure you don't do somethin' stupid😒.
Soap walked up behind you and said " His right, you know lass." Scaring the living shit out of you. Turning around whit a pale face and slightly shaking. You hit soap on his arm saying " don' ever do that to ME."
Soap laughed loudly amused at your terrified look. Ghost sighed and shook his head, telling soap to stop scaring you half to death.
Captain price's voice came booming into the room. He walked along with Gaz, Gaz waved to you and you did the same.
"all right now that everyone is here, I have two announcements. First, we have a new team member. He will be arriving in 10. And lastly, it was widows turn to choose a training exercise."
Widow smiled widely, ghost stared a hole at her head, as he looked down at her. Soap looked pale and as for gaz, he was trying to hold his laugh.
Ghost finally spoke, breaking the long dead silent " Kid..What.did.You.do?" His deep timber voice said in a commanding tone.
Slowly backing away from the tall masked man and talking slowly" I might have asked...to play hide and seek. An' captain agreed😅" as you said the last part as you ran to hide behind Gaz.
Soap was trying to hold ghost back from giving you a verbal beatdown. " big bro, hide me" you told gaz giggling. Everyone on squad 141 was your family, and gaz and soap always hit you like the big brother type.
Ghost broke free and soap put his hands up when you looked at him. " sorry, did all I could" he stated while smiling. Running away from the tall man you yelled at soap " YOU LYING BASTARD, YOU LET GO." Ghost closed in on you as you stared at the older men, looking side by side for an escape.
To everyone, this was a normal occurrence. The scene was like a parent scolding their child for their Wrongdoings. Funny but for the receiving party it was like looking into deaths door. I mean you had the ghost, death was the next right option.
Before ghost could scold Widow a *HUMVEE pulled up. The only thing on everyone's mind was ' Widow got lucky this time'.
Squad 141 all stood in a line waiting for the new addition to the team. Altho it just looked like gaz, soap, and Ghost were the only ones in the line. Widow looked so small compared to all of them that they practically hide her by accident.
Price looked straight ahead as a very tall figure came out of the HUMVEE (High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle.). He had to duck down as to not hit his head, once he was fully out it was like looking at a big, but like a Big bear.
Price extended his hand to shake them with the tall man, after some small talk price turned around to face the group. " Alright everyone, this is könig. He will be with us from now on." The captain said.
Everyone started to introduce themselves " your' pretty tall ain't ya. Am soap, let's get along" soap stated. " nice to meet you." Gaz said shaking könig's hand.
König walked to the next person in line which should have been Widow, but he couldn't see her and so he walked to ghost.
Price notice it and walked a little closer, after a little while he finally realized what happened. " Gaz, Ghost please step aside your hiding Widow," he said shaking his head while taking a cigar out.
Ghost and Gaz looked to their side and realized that they in fact hide the small woman from view. " sorry Widow." Gaz said "sorry, kid," ghost said. As they finally move aside. " hello, am Widow. It's nice to meet you könig." Widow said almost shyly.
Widow extended her hand and Shook his hand. König and Widow had off the bat one thing in common nervousness and social anxiety around new people.
But after some small talk, widow would warm up to you, after getting to know you of course. Lastly, it was ghost's turn. Ghost shook his hand and said, " welcome to the unit".
After some time price spoke up " alright everyone get in the HUMVEE, will be going to the training site." Berugently everyone got into the viechle, price explained to könig what was going on. To which the tall man asked " hide &seek?" he asked confusedly. Hearing his voice for the first time gave you chills, not scared chills but a thrilled chill that just set a fire in you.
Gaz said it was widows idea and to be prepared for hell. " When it comes to this Exercise, widow doesn't hold back" price stated. After a comfortable silence, they finally made it to the training site.
" Widow can you explain how we play hide and seek" price said still smoking his cigar. "Okey. The way we play hide and seek is like a manhunt. Everyone has 10 mins to get a paintball gun and find a spot. After the 10 mins are up, I will get into possession. You have an hour and a half to find me before I snipe you all down. The last still standing or the first to kill me wins."
You said happily this is in fact your favorite training exercise. Ghost hates it because it hurts like a motherfucker, soap doesn't like it cuz it's hard to get the paint off. And as for gaz he quite enjoys the exercise. Except when he gets hit on the back of the head.
" alright get your weapons boys, " captain price said. He asked könig if he wanted to participate to which the man nodded, in response.
After everyone was set in their positions, captain price said that they had an extra 5 minutes. Widow was still looking for just the right gun, and she found it. A 468 PTR BLACK KING BOLT ACTION DMR SNIPER PAINTBALL GUN.
After the 5 minutes, Widow was ready for the hunt. " you ready kid." Asked price. You gave him a smile with a thumbs up 👍🏼. " yeah, it's demon time finna hut some bitches".
Being small had its ups and downs, but in this situation, it was your biggest advantage. So many hiding places, after surveying your surroundings you found the best place to hide.
A big tree had fallen and since it was surrounded by bushes the roots were well-covered. After making sure that no one was there you gave the word. The hunt was on and the boys now had an hour and a half to hunt you down.
After what felt like forever ( ten minutes or so 🙄) you spotted your right prey. Soap was surveying the area with his gun and reporting back. He was doing a good job, every sound had him looking around and making sure that it wasn't you.
Staying still as humanly possible you Held your breath, the closer he got the more your trigger finger inched. The need to pull the trigger was strong, like an addiction. You needed to wait for the right moment, 20 feet, 15 feet, 10 feet, 5 feet. Perfect -BANG- the sound of hitting your target dead center in the chest.
It was heavenly, Almost euphoric. Hearing cuz in his native language was all the better. " Sleekit, Bastart." ( sneaky bastard) the Scots man said. Then he yelled hit.
Now that your spot was given out you had to move, slowly walking deeper into the forest where the vines grow long and in numbers.
After stopping and crouching at the smallest sounds in fear of getting killed you come to a stop. Right in front of you was quite a beautiful site, a willow tree with low-hanging branches.
Perfect for climbing and most of all hiding, an Eagles eye view. After making sure the boys hadn't been there or around it you climb the tree.
From your communication earpiece, price spoke " first kill soap, 3 remain." Looking Throw your scope, checking to see your, next victim. You spotted Gaz and Ghost doing a swipe, könig nowhere to be seen.
Gaz was the clearest target after he moved from his hiding place from behind a tree. " just a lil closer, come on" you said under your breath. Gaz moved slightly to the right and at that moment you pulled the trigger.
"Well look who's getting sniped at the back of the head." You chuckled, watching as the said man got hit. You wanted to stand up and scream " I like your cut g" so badly but couldn't.
"Damn it" Gaz said angrily throwing his hands up and yelling hit. As you went to find the masked skull man, you found that he was living up to his name. Man's become a real ghost and ghosted you as fast as you pulled the trigger.
Now könig and Ghost were the last men standing. After what felt like forever searching for the tall guys you heard a Crunch from under you. You Stiffened, Your heart was beating fast and loud in your chest and ears. Ghost was under you looking around trying to find you.
You always wondered how such a tall man could move so fast without making the slightest noises. You felt like you were being hunted by a vicious beast, hoping he wouldn't look up you slowly pulled out your gun. Stopping every time he moved, you aligned your gun at him, put your finger on the trigger.
Just as you were about to pull the trigger he looked up, dead eyes looking straight at you. Your heart stopped and you thought that for a second you soul left your body.
He moved to bring his gun up at you, that snaped you out of your dice. Pulling the trigger and hitting him on the shoulder, your breathing was heavy. You felt so out of breath that you might get dizzy.
Ghost stared at you for a moment. Looking at the terrified look you had, he shoke his head and called out hit. " sorry for Scaring ya doll" he said to you.
Captain price called out again " 20 minutes left, last man standing is könig." He said.
You were still thinking that if this was a real battle Ghost would have slattered you without a second thought. You where so in your thoughts that you didn't notice könig under you.
You where sitting with your back the tree. Looking straigh ahead, only snaping out of it when you felt something on your leg.
Wide-eyed you looked straight into königs hooded eyes, before you could even grab your snipe. You were heading straight to the ground, landing back first. That shit hurt like a bitch.
König stood over you pulling his gun out, quickly getting on your feet. Slightly whining from the pain in your right foot.
You ran with your hand gun in hand, looking for a place to hide. But sadly the hope was short lived.
You looked behind you to see königs arm streched out a second later you where caught and on the ground.
The mountain of man Sat on top of you, Pining your arms above your head with his big hand. You tried to wiggle out but the more you struggle the tighter his while became.
He pulled his gun out and shot you in the stomach. You whined, the sound almost coming off erotic. Getting shot by a paintball close-range hurt like a motherfuckering bitch.
König let go of your hands and got off of you. With teary eyes and shaking hand, you pressed your earpiece " Am hit" you Stated.
Everyone back at the entrance was expecting you to loudly yell " I win ya old bitches. Kiss my ass " like you usually would. But instead, you called to admit your defeat.
You sounded out of breath and in pain. They waited for you and könig to come out.
König extended his hand out to you, you took it with a shaky smile. You stood up and König let go of your hand. The warmth of his hand on yours was immediately missed. König turned around to walk off, you took a step forward and began to fall. König turned around just in time to stop your face and the ground from having a meeting.
" Are you okay, Maus" (mouse) he asked. His voice was low and worried, it sounded like honey. You were starting to get addicted to his voice, only after meeting him hours ago.
You shook your head negatively, " I think I Sprain my ankle" you told him. "sorry" könig said. You told him that it was okay and that you had fun. You really did.
He said sorry again and He picked you up, carried you bridle-style. Your face was 50 shades of red, you felt like you could explode at any moment.
As he carried you, you sank deeper into his arms feeling his warm embrace comforting. Tho it was making you sleepy. As you came to the entrance ghost was the first to speak. "Widow, you okay?" Ghost asked looking at you in the tall man's arms.
You smiled and told him " yup, am Gucci. Just fucked up my ankle while running." You told the older man, while he stared daggers into poor könig. To which König nodded his head in agreement.
Ghost looked at you again and asked " ya sleepy?". Almost Immediately you responded with a yes. Everyone chuckled it was so like you to get sleepy when you finished a mission or any work. " yup totally Widow" was going around everyone's mind.
It was lights out immediately, "am gonna take a lil nap, night every...one " and just like that you fell asleep in königs arms.
Ghost looked at könig and told him "sorry mate, ya gonna have to carry her until we get to the base. She would kill ya if ya wake her up. In her word, she turns into an angry Grimling." Ghost walked off to the HUMVEE.
Soap patted the tall Man's back giving him a thumbs up " good luck" and off he was. Gaz only shook his head and told könig "come on, I'll get the door for ya".
König sat in the HUMVEE with an asleep Widow in his arms, she was holding him like a koala. As König looked down at her, he thought to himself " This isn't so bad." The tall man smiled under his hood, it was like heaven having her in his arms. And 141 was a nice addition to the whole deal.
"Sweet dreams, my little maus" könig whispered to the sleeping woman. Squad 141 was about to get interesting. A hyper Widow and the silent man könig, wonder how it all will turn out.
Ight am going back to hibernating until I wake up again. Peace out everyone 🫥✌🏽
#könig cod#könig x reader#cod x reader#gen z shit#ghost call of duty#soap mctavish#gaz cod#cod price#long post#Widow🕷
403 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you ever think about water 7 and remember how many fans (way too many fans...) completely misunderstand Usopp's character and feelings towards Merry and reduce it to "he was only attached because Kaya gave them the ship" and forget that we are explicitly told that he sees himself in Merry and also later on we found out he heard Merry say she wanted to take them further, so we KNOW just how much Usopp saw her as another nakama (I know they all did, but he SAW and heard her first) and no wonder he didnt want to just get rid of her, do you ever remember that and want to cry?
Also I get that Usopp said hurtful things, and went against the captain, but if he hadnt Merry wouldnt have been able to save them... I always feel like Zoro was too rough on Usopp but I don't know, maybe I'm misremebering because Usopp haters always use Zoro's speech to say that Usopp was in the wrong or whatever (and it drives me INSANE ooh 😤 makes my blood boil)
I should rewatch Water 7...
Also unrelated but what are Merry's official pronouns?
Oh boy do I ever think about Water 7. I’ve posted about this before but Usopp’s reasons are numerous and just build on top of each other. Not only is it because of Kaya and seeing the Merry as a crew member and seeing himself in the Merry but it also is because of his own trauma and insecurities and abandonment issues. There’s a lot there and it all exploded out in a messy argument and is just…so sad and emotional and I don’t think anyone in universe (including Usopp himself) have still even know parsed out all of that complexity yet.
I think a lot of fan reaction here is victim to the point of view of the narrative. Luffy is our protagonist and the rest of the main characters are his crew, and that means certain expectations of loyalty. He’s the boss, which means they have to follow his rules. Which, you know, is fair enough: if you want to stay, you follow the rules that the boss sets. However, I think a lot of what actually goes on here is accepted at face value and not considered further critically. While Usopp’s actions here were wrong from the perspective of the hierarchy established on the crew, as well as from a personal standpoint because of some of the things that were said, they were also right from another point of view. Usopp’s argument here was that the Merry was a crew member, as alive as any of the rest of them. And, canonically, he’s fully correct. Luffy’s argument is that the Merry can’t take them further, which is also correct. They were both right, but the communication breakdown also means they were both wrong. And Usopp got most of the blowback because of narrative perspective, and because of the fact that he is not the captain and therefore is not going to receive the same loyalty in decisions that Luffy does.
Zoro is a character that is very much a vehicle for this narrative perspective: he is a strong believer in the ship hierarchy and believes that following it to the letter is not only the morally right thing to do, but also is the only way they will survive the journey to come. Is he right? The narrative certainly seems to direct us to that. But at the end of the day it’s just a certain perspective on how things work. Usopp here went against the loyalty that Zoro holds so dearly (and to Luffy in particular) and therefore Zoro felt it was his duty to set them (and him especially) straight. But again, this is very much from the perspective I mentioned above.
I think examining it further, like I said, shows that both Usopp and Luffy were right, but went wrong in how they communicated how each felt. Luffy may be the boss, and his word may be law in the ship, but I think as the boss he has the added responsibility to deescalate and manage his crew, and communicate to them his expectations clearly. Usopp failed here to control his insecurities and succumbed to them. Luffy here failed in his capacity as a leader in communication and deescalation, especially since he most certainly does not want to be an iron fist type leader. However, I don’t think that element of Luffy’s failure is discussed enough in and out of universe, which is also why I always say that I wish the crew challenged him and his decisions more.
With regards to Merry’s pronouns, I think she/her? I’m unsure though, if anyone can confirm that.
#that all goes to the way loyalty is portrayed in one piece#but that’s a whole other conversation#one piece#op#usopp#speaks#asks#water 7#monkey d luffy#roronoa zoro
61 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
helenasugar
✨Artsy raccoon✨
supergeekgirl05
So Many Fandoms, So Little Time
corrinamack
Corri's Bake Sale
eprepexam
Untitled
rhig1x6nr
Untitled