#Though… I just realized that I didn’t take my medication this morning and that I didn’t take it yesterday morning either. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kestisvrse · 2 months

Text

you don’t know me

pairing ⋆ spidey!luke castellan x gn!reader au. fluff with a bit of angst. friends to lovers.

synopsis ⋆ spider-man appears at your window for help, and accidentally reveals his identity.

warnings ⋆ blood descriptions, stitching, swearing, stranger danger tbh, bit dramatic(?), kinda rushed i apologize | wc: 2.5k

a/n ⋆ i hate the ending of this so feel free to not read it😭😭

♫ - jackie and wilson by hozier

1:33am

it was hard trying to stay awake at this time, sound of the rain against your window and the soft snores of your roommates made it was easy to focus on closing your tired eyes instead of looking over all the notes scattered on your desk, it seemed nothing could stop you from drifting off to the peaceful place despite the thought of your sore neck in the morning from being slouched over your desk, but three taps against your window made your eyes shoot open.

he regretted it immediately, as he watched your head rise from the desk, but what else could he do? he gripped his side as he watched you mumble to yourself at the sight of spider-man on your fire escape, but you quickly opened the window.

“what the fuck?” you whisper at the sight, the heavy rain began to cover your window sill and floor but you didn’t even notice.

“hi, um i know this must seem very odd..” the superhero in front of you trailed off as you let him in, “shit, i’m bleeding on your carpet.”

“what- oh shit!” you gasp, noticing the giant gash he gripped on his torso, without a second thought you grabbed his hand and dragged him into your private bathroom, pushing him to sit on the toilet as you rummaged in your cupboards, as you pulled out a first-aid kit, you rummaged for supplies, “can i ask why the hell spider-man is bleeding in my bathroom right now?”

“i- i lost a lot of blood, i wouldn’t have been able to make it to my place in time.” he lied, “not to sound creepy but i saw your light on and.. and i needed help.”

“can you take the top half of your suit off?” you ask, washing your hands, as if you hadn’t even acknowledged what he had said. he nods, unzipping the back and removing his arms from the sleeves, letting the suit rest at his waist, his mask still hiding his identity, “this will hurt.” you warn, even though he had definitely experienced worse than a wound being wiped down.

but still he winced, clenching his jaw, as you realized it wasn’t just a cut, he had been stabbed.

“thank god you stumbled across a med-students dorm.” you mumble to yourself, trying to lighten the mood as you get ready to stitch his side together, as he went to laugh at your comment he was interrupted by a groan of pain emitting from his throat.

“i know it hurts, but try to be quiet. if you wake clarisse, my roommate up, she will not make this situation any better.” you say, luke holds back a laugh knowing it was definitely true, he bites down on his lower lip as you stitch him up. luckily it was a shallow cut,.

you worked in silence, occasionally broken up by strewn out swears and winces from the superhero, biting your lip in concentration. as you tied together the final stitch you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“okay, the hard part is done.” you informed him, wiping down any excess blood that stained his skin.

“thanks.” he mutters weakly, moving to adjust his posture but immediately freezing as pain shoots up his body.

“stay still.” you say, “i still have to bandage it.” pulling out medical tape and gauze out of your medical bag, he felt as your hands occasionally slipped off the white bandage and touched his stomach. the pain almost subsided as the feeling of your fingertips burned into him. wrapping the bandage around his torso and taping it down you lean back on your knees, letting out a sigh.

he focuses on you as you stand, washing blood off your hands in the sink before cleaning up your supplies, you glance at him catching him staring, as he pretends to admire your bathroom as if he hadn’t been in here before.

“um-“ he clears his throat, “sorry for bleeding on your floor.” he mentioned, guilt evident in his voice.

“s’okay, i didn't like that carpet much anyways.” you say, which was a lie. luke remembered vividly how happy you were to get what you called, ‘the best rug ever’ for your room, his brows furrow.

you lean back against the bathtub, letting out a sigh, he goes to move but you nudge him with your foot, “don’t go just yet, won’t be good to swing on new stitches.” you explained to him, as he leaned back against the back of the toilet.

his breathing was sharp and inconsistent as his stomach stung in pain, his eyes squeezed shut, “the only thing i have for pain is like advil and tylenol. i don’t know if that helps with stab wounds though.” you spoke up, he shakes his head in response.

“i’ll be fine, just- just need to catch my breath.” to which you nodded in response.

“can i get you water?” you suggest, quickly standing as a ‘please’ is heard from under the mask, him suddenly noticing the scratchy and dry feeling of his throat. you rush out the room, tiptoeing into the kitchen to grab water for the superhero, as you return and hand it to him, you spin around so he can remove his mask.

his face was red as he watched you carefully, slipping his mask above his nose to gulp down the glass. scared you’d spin around to discover it was your friend bleeding out in the bathroom.

but you didn’t, as he pulled the mask back down and placed the cup on the counter, is when you turned and returned to your spot on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest.

he begins to shuffle uncomfortably on the toilet, breathing harder as his back slouched and his body tensed. the bandages felt tight on him, as he resisted the urge to rip them off, he was quickly distracted as you kneeled in front of him, placing your hand on his exposed wrist.

tingles shot up his body at the feeling of your skin against his again, it felt so odd, knowing he had hugged and brushed past you so many times but this was different, every touch had him blushing as butterflies flew around his stomach, he didn’t know you felt the same way, but with luke, not spider-man.

“control your breathing, your pulse is out of control.” you breathe, your pointer and middle finger pressed against his wrist feeling his pulse.

he began to focus on your breathing, watching as your chest rose and fell while you seemingly seemed focused on the wall of the bathroom. he quickly matched his breathing with yours, sitting up straight as your hand pulled away from him.

“thank you, for helping me.” he stammered, suddenly self conscious of his voice, how hadn’t you recognized it?

“i mean, what else was i supposed to do? there was a superhero at my window sill.” you scoff in disbelief, “it’s fine, i mean, it’s the least i can do for you keeping me- uh new york, safe.” you clear your throat, staring at your hands that rest atop your knees. “can i ask you something?”

his throat dries, “yeah?”

“i mean- obviously don’t answer if it’s too personal or gives away your identity, but.” you tilt my head, “do you like… live a normal life during the day? or are you always spider-man?” you ask cautiously.

he pauses to think about his answer, narrowing his eyes at you, “oh yeah, i-i do have a normal life during the day.” he confesses, the hand that grasped his stomach moves to scratch the back of his neck.

“cool.” you reply, stopping yourself from question him farther.

“you aren’t asking any questions,” he stated quietly, almost in disbelief. as he spoke, he shifted his attention to your face. “i was expecting some like freaked out reactions. but you’re... you’re really chill about this.”

“you have a secret identity for a reason, i wouldn’t want to ruin that for you. you keep the city safe, and that’s all i need to know.” you shrug in response, staring at the white eyes of his mask.

“i mean it’s so crazy.” you say randomly, causing his head to tilt in confusion, “i’ve thought about it before you know, imagine one of my friends was a masked superhero.” he tenses, knowing that in fact it was true, “like my friend luke, he’s always disappearing at random moments.” his eyes widen but you don’t notice because of the mask, chuckling to yourself at the thought.

“yeah, imagine that.” he murmurs in response, suddenly very sweaty in stress.

“how’re you feeling?” you turn your attention back to him.

“still hurts a lot, but i should go now.” he explains, his hand on the counter to steady himself as he stands, “again, thank you so much.”

you walk to the window, opening it and helping him climb out onto the fire escape, “again” you repeat him, “it’s the least i could do.”

4:56pm

you yawn as you open the door revealing luke castellan, bag swung over his shoulder and hair messy from the wind, he gave you a lopsided smile, “ready to study?”

you shake your head as he enters your apartment, “i was studying all night, barely got sleep.” you respond, leading him to your room.

he just nods his head at you in response, cheeks growing hot, sure you were studying, before his alter ego stumbled through your window.

as he walked into your room, he immediately took notice of the spot of your carpet that had been rolled over, to cover the evidence of the blood stain. his stare lingered there, before quickly collecting himself to sit on your bed.

“i made these flashcards for you last night.” you break the silence, holding up pastel green cards, “ready to be tested, castellan?” you tease, plopping onto the bed and leaning against the headboard as he takes his jacket off.

“oh bless you for those.” he praised, comfortably laying down at the end of your feet.

“just admit i’m your favourite person.” you giggle, he rolls his eyes before encouraging you to begin.

thirty minutes past as you tested him, reaching the end before you would swap over, “alright” you clear your throat, “next- luke?” your gaze drifts up from the card.

“yeah?” he asked, waiting for you to continue.

“you’re bleeding.” you point at his shirt, he looks down to find his blue t-shirt slowly bleed red, dripping down his side. immediately, he reacted by pressing down as hard as he could against the wound, a small whimper escaping his lips in the process.

“what-“ you cut yourself off, to look up into his eyes, eyes widening in the process “no fucking way.”

he tore his attention away from his wound, blood seeping into your bed sheets, “i-“ in a flash you’re up from the bed, cards spilling onto the floor as you yank him up causing him to yelp. he sits down on the toilet as you rummage for the first aid kit, again.

“take off your shirt.” you demanded, and despite the surprise this brought him, he didn’t resist. he removed his shirt almost immediately, revealing the bloody coated bandages.

you stared at his chest, the fact that it was the exact same as spider-mans made you wanna scream, but you held back, removing the bandages and staying quiet to patch him up, too scared to speak.

luke stayed silent, staring at you with sad eyes, praying you would forgive him. he winced every so often at the sting of you restitching some stitches that came loose, and rewrapping his stomach with fresh gauze.

your lips pursed together as you washed your hands, refilling the same cup from last night with water and placing it beside him before walking off into your room. luke quickly tugs hair shirt back on, ignoring the blood stain and the pain that shot up his body at the sudden movement, before going to stand in front of you in your room, “i’m sorry.” he whispers.

“you could have died, and it would have been my fault.” you remarked, “can you imagine? spider-man dies in my bathroom and i take his mask off to reveal my best fucking friend.” you scoffed, tears covering your waterline.

his expression softened, as he nudged your foot with his, “but i didn’t.”

“but you could have!” you yell, shooting up to stand in front of him, “jesus luke, this is what you’ve been doing all year? this is why you disappear all the time?” he stares at his shoes as you rub your forehead.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, a sad expression covering his face, as he blinked rapidly, “i’m sorry for putting you through that. i didn’t mean to worry you.”

“you-you’re spider-man.” you gasp out, in disbelief. your hand clutches your chest as tears roll out onto your cheeks. his hand brushes your bicep as you flinch.

“yeah… yeah i am.” he sighs, guiding you to sit back down on your bed, “i wish i hadn’t come here last night but- i wouldn’t have been able to stitch that up myself.” he sighed as you sobbed into your hands.

“you could have died.” you choke out, repeating yourself before falling into his side, almost on instinct he wraps his arm around you, rubbing your back comfortingly. he knew you wouldn’t respond well if he had ever told you, but he hadn’t thought about how you would feel to him almost dying in your bathroom.

“i’m okay. i promise.” he breathed into your hair, but you just shook your head in response, unable to respond as you tried to catch your breath.

“i don’t care if i am fast asleep, if this ever happens again, you come to me luke, i stitch you up.” you begged, looking up to him teary eyed.

his gaze softens looking at you but nodded in response, “okay, i promise.” his hand hovers over you neck, “i didn’t want to put you in danger or worry you. i would have told you. i was also scared you wouldn’t… wouldn’t look at me the same” he whispered.

“you’re still luke castellan, i still will like you no matter what, you just… you scared the shit out of me.” you sputtered out, not thinking about what you were saying to the boy in front of you, his body tensed.

“like me?” he asks, brows furrowed to see if you meant as friends or.. as more. he got his answer as he watched your eyes widen slightly and you began to stutter, “you… you like me?”

“what- no i meant-“ you shake your head so hard he thought it might spin off, and so he took his chance. the hand that hovered over your neck held your face still as he connected his lips with yours.

you found yourself unable to kiss back in shock, he heats up in embarrassment as he began to pull away, which brought you to your senses as you pulled him back down to press a soft kiss against his lips.

he pulled away for air, leaning your foreheads against each other.

“i can’t believe i accused you of being a secret superhero, while infront of you last night.” you mumbled, as he just laughed in response and shook his head.

“i promise to be more safe, just for you.” he said, leaning in to peck your lips.

#sienna’s fics #luke castellan x you #luke castellan au #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo au #pjo x reader #spiderman #spiderman au #luke castellan as spider-man #percy jackson #percy jackson au #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Hi! I love your works! I saw your request are open, so I was wondering if I could ask how would Spencer react to the reader fainting into his arms?

I love this request so much. As a POTSie, this is really close to my heart - and idk if this was your intention or not, but I decided to make it that the reader has POTS.

Requests are OPEN

How would Spencer Reid react to you fainting around him?

Warnings: Reader's gender is not described - reader is gender neutral; the reader's looks are not really described either; the reader faints due to a pre-existing medical condition; the reader is mentioned to have POTS; this is Spencer during his Professor era; the reader is also a Professor at the University that Spencer teaches at; this fic uses Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); the reader loses consciousness completely and Spencer attends to them to make sure they are okay; some light fluff/romance; I think that's it? Not really proofread. This could be described as hurt/comfort (I found it very comforting to write) - even if you aren't chronically ill, I encourage you to read and enjoy!!!

...

Spencer didn’t really know you.

Since he had started teaching at the university, he had seen you around many times, and a face like yours - someone as gorgeous as you definitely stuck out in his mind. But he had never formally introduced himself. He could have used the excuse that he was busy preparing his lectures, and racing back and forth to the BAU between those lectures. But even if he hadn't spoken to you, he had been admiring you from afar for a long time.

That was why, when he found a notebook that belonged to you sitting on one of the benches on the quad, he didn’t hesitate to bring it to your office. It needed to be returned to its rightful owner, and that owner was someone he had been secretly admiring for some time now. It was the perfect excuse to introduce himself to you. He thought that sitting on the notebook when he went outside to take his morning coffee break could be considered fate. Especially when he flipped open the cover, looking for some sign of who it belonged to, and he saw your name written on it.

(Did he also flip through the rest of the pages, seeing the poems you had written, along with some beautiful sketches of birds and stills of flowers, and felt his stomach stir even more, realizing that he was falling for you before even talking to you? Maybe. He would have denied it, though.)

He knocked on your door late, on his way out for the day, hoping that you were still there, and he was surprised to find the hinge creaking open underneath his fist.

“Hello?” He called out. “Professor L/N?”

“Oh, come in!” You called back.

Spencer walked in and found the room to be a mess of papers - many open file boxes scattered about the room, with papers scattered everywhere in an utter hurricane of paper.

You were focused on the file box in front of you, a frown knit across your brows as you flipped through them one by one, clearly intently looking for something.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer apologized. “Is this a bad time?”

“Oh, uh-” You finally looked up from your searching, and when you locked eyes with Spencer, you were surprised to find a doe-eyed, curly-haired, incredibly attractive man standing in the middle of your messy office. “I’m sorry. I- you’re that FBI guy, right? Reid?”

You ignored his question in favor of being introduced to him properly - you had heard his name from the mouths of other people; gossip from your colleagues about how a real FBI profiler would be teaching a class about the psychology of serial killers and profiling.

“Yes.” Spencer nodded. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. But you can call me Spencer, if you prefer.”

“Spencer.” You repeated back, grinning at him. “I’m Professor L/N, as you said. But you can call me Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I just came to return this.” Spencer explained, reaching into his bag and pulling out your notebook.

Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight of it.

“Oh my gosh.” You gasped quietly. “Thank you so much.” You took it back, giving him a grateful smile. “I don’t even know where my head is today, I-”

Spencer gave a small grin as he followed your gaze around the mess you had created in your office.

“I know this looks chaotic, but…” You looked for an excuse. “A student asked me for a copy of an essay they wrote a few years ago as a reference for their thesis. And I thought I had everything well organized. But - apparently my head is just not on very straight.”

The forgetfulness, and your inability to go through the files in an efficient way - the lack of focus, it was only compounded by your pre-existing condition. Which was only made worse by the fact that you had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was well past dinner time now.

“Oh, that’s completely understandable.” Spencer chuckled. “I can help you look through some of these if you want?”

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the notebook and as Spencer became blurry in your vision - you thought about going to sit down in your office chair for a break after it was too late.

“Y/N?”

He became worried when you didn’t respond, when the expression on your face became more distant and he noticed your lips paling from a healthy color.

In the next moment, you were falling.

Spencer rushed to catch you, his instincts kicking in - everything in his body screaming that he needed to keep you from hitting the floor, that he needed to keep you safe. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and the other arm wrapped around the middle of your back - he was surprised by how heavy your body felt when you were purely dead weight, your body entirely limp as you went completely unconscious, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a scary way.

He knelt down slowly, taking you down to the floor in the most gentle way possible, not wanting to drop you accidentally and have you hit your head because of his incompetence. The more the seconds ticked on and your eyelids stayed limp, your lips almost purple and your mouth gaped - the more his own heart thumped in his chest with intense fear.

“Hey, hey, come on.” He continued to cradle your head with one hand, but now that you were mostly resting on the floor, he moved his other arm from your back to gently rub across your cheek - hoping to rouse you back to consciousness. “Come on, stay with me. Y/N. Wake up. Please?”

He gently tapped your cheek, no where close to slapping you - but hoping to stimulate your nervous system with touch in some way.

A huge breath of relief sucked through his chest when your eyelids started flickering and your eyes began moving around, clearly searching for something in the room as you regained consciousness. You let out a moan, trying to form words, and Spencer put a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just relax.” He told you, trying to keep his voice calm - trying not to betray any of the anxiety that he was truly feeling.

His first instinct was to call an ambulance - obviously you needed medical attention. What had happened to you? What if it was something serious?

And while he was patting down his pockets for his phone, you let out another moan and lifted one of your limp arms, drawing his attention to the jingle of a medical alert bracelet on your arm.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved to grab the pendant on the bracelet, reading it carefully.

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome

There was an emergency number listed, but it wasn’t 9-1-1 - Spencer had to guess that it was a family member of yours, or a doctor. So he had to guess that calling an ambulance wasn’t the thing to do. The condition sounded familiar to him - he read medical journals on occasion because he found them to be mentally engaging, and - because of occasions like this; if he could use the information to help someone.

He remembered that it was a condition in which the autonomic nervous system fails to regulate blood flow, resulting in fainting when too much blood pools in the legs. So elevating the legs can help a person with the condition regain consciousness easier.

Spencer hated to rest your head on the hardness of the floor, but he rushed to take off his blazer, and folded it up to put it underneath your head as a makeshift pillow, and then he looked around frantically - and the only good thing he could find were the file boxes. He stacked a few of them and brought them closer, and then situated your legs so they were elevated up on top of the boxes, above your prone body.

He took your hand and held it - again, simply out of instinct. Wanting you to know that he was there with you while you lingered on the edge of consciousness. But with his helpful first aid, it wasn’t long then - only a minute or two - before your eyes blinked open more confidently and you tried to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy.” Spencer implored, pushing you gently to lay back down. “Just rest for a few minutes, okay?”

Usually - you would have rushed to become upright again, even if it was against medical advice. But something about Spencer’s presence was gentle and soothing, and you found yourself actually listening to him.

“Sorry,” You muttered out, the word practically turning into a slur on your lips - your face tingling and numb as the blood slowly migrated back to your head. “I - I didn’t mean to s-scare you.”

“You did scare me a little bit.” Spencer chuckled. “Hopefully next time I see you, you don’t end up on the floor.”

“Well, my condition gets b-better when I eat s-salty foods.” You remarked, telling him the truth about the medical advice you had been given, feeling bold to let this roll into a flirty opportunity. “Maybe you could t-take me to dinner-r next time?”

Spencer grinned down at you, and let out a light laugh.

“Sounds like a date.”

...

A/N: I have to say that this was so comforting for me to write. The amount of times in my life that I have fainted and been terrified, or I have been berated by the people around me for ‘faking’ it when I was feeling incredibly ill and barely conscious. If I fainted and I woke up to Spencer holding my hand and treating me so well like this - I would feel so relaxed and comforted. This was so amazing for me to write, and did help to heal a small fraction in the huge lifetime of medical trauma that I have.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

Nother idea: Wayne & Eddie coming home from a long ass day, tired & stressed, both of them arriving at their trailer at the same time. Both of them taking a deep breath knowing that they'll have to clean up & prepare dinner but both are exhausted. But when they come in their trailer is sparkling clean. The floors swept & mopped, dirty clothes put into the wash, clean clothes folded neatly on the couch in piles for both Eddie and Wayne. Their trailer smells clean & fresh, they turn towards the kitchen & see Steve humming quietly to himself along with the radio on low as he pulls fresh made supper from the oven, on the counters are baked goods cooling. Wayne & Eddie realizing that Steve not only cleaned up their home but he prepared them easy to reheat meals, cleaned up their space bc he knew they'd be exhausted & both of them like the trailer to be clean, but neither had time. So he did it because they are his family & he loves them & wants them to feel safe and cared for in their new home.

MY LOVE! So I kinda ran with a somewhat different background plot, just because it kind of felt like I needed to show that Steve ain't slackin'. I also moved this one ahead of another request because I needed to write Wayne in a sappy way after chapter 2 of demon Steve. Steve was born to be a housewife with guidance counselor tendencies and I don't make the rules. ENJOY! - Mickala ❤️

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Eddie felt the exhaustion fully hit him as soon as he put his van in park.

He’d been working more overtime over the last month to save up for the down payment on the house he and Steve fell in love with.

The government money helped, but it mostly went to medical bills and a new van when his old one had become government property.

Wayne told him to keep as much of it saved as he could. “You never know what life will throw at ya,” he’d said.

Steve had been working a lot too, but was focusing on his classes at the community college, trying to set up a better future for both of them.

It meant that Eddie was pulling a lot of the financial weight right now, that Wayne was doing as much as he could for them so they could actually save up, but it would all be worth it.

Wayne knocked on his window and he blinked his eyes open again.

When had he even closed them?

Eddie opened the door and stepped out, groaning at the ache in his knee. It still wasn’t 100%, probably never would be as long as he was doing physical labor, and today had been particularly rough at the shop.

“Alright, bud?” Wayne asked him, hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Just tired,” Eddie replied.

“You and me both. Let’s go relax a bit.”

But relaxing wouldn’t be on the table until they fixed dinner and cleaned up a bit and Eddie knew the faucet had been leaking when he left this morning and they didn’t need a leak like that running up the water bill, so he should probably try to fix it before bed.

He let Wayne go in first, as always, knowing he’d take longer going up the porch steps.

He could handle walking just fine most of the time, but stairs were a bitch.

He nearly walked right into Wayne when he walked through the front door, the older man standing stock still right in the entrance.

“Wayne? You good?” Eddie asked, his mind suddenly filtering through any number of terrible reasons for his sudden frozen demeanor.

And then he could smell it.

Cookies.

Someone was baking cookies.

And then he saw it.

The living room was completely cleaned and organized, magazines stacked neatly on the table, no crumbs on the couch or carpet, the weird mud stain from Eddie’s boots no longer on the rug by the front door.

He heard the record player going, though the volume was low enough that he could also hear Steve singing in the kitchen.

“Looks like your boy’s been busy,” Wayne smirked over his shoulder at him.

“I don’t-“ Eddie started to say.

“Eds? Wayne? You guys home?” Steve called from the kitchen.

Before they answered, he walked around the corner with an apron on, his glasses perched on his nose, and a beaming smile on his face.

“I just put the lasagna back in the oven to heat up a bit for you. Had to wait for the cookies to come out,” Steve said as he walked towards them.

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and kissed him on the lips quickly, then pulled away to give Wayne a quick side hug.

“I made some lemonade that should be nice and cold by now. You want some?”

Eddie and Wayne blinked at him, surprise at what was happening rendering them speechless.

“Is everything okay?” Steve’s tone shifted to concern, the smile dropping from his face as he took in their stillness.

“You cleaned?” Wayne asked.

“And cooked?” Eddie asked.

“And baked?” Wayne added.

“My afternoon class was canceled and Keith said he wouldn’t approve overtime for me, so. I came home?” Steve still looked concerned, like he was waiting for one or both of them to start yelling at him.

“Where’s your car?” Wayne asked.

That was a great question. Eddie just realized it wasn’t in the yard, which was half the reason he’d been shocked to see Steve here at all.

“Oh! Max needed to go to therapy. I was already in the middle of baking so I told her she could just use it as long as she was back by eight.”

“So you’ve been cleaning and baking and cooking all afternoon? For us?” Eddie asked, biting back as much emotion as he could.

He was tired and overwhelmed with love and he knew he would start crying if he didn’t contain some of it.

“I just wanted to take care of you guys and take care of our house. You worked all day and I had some free time to do it,” Steve shrugged.

Wayne collected himself first, moving toward Steve and squeezing his shoulder.

“Thanks, son. You don’t know how much I appreciate ya doin’ all this,” he said, voice slightly choked up.

“It’s no problem, Wayne,” Steve replied, face red.

“Mind if I go grab a shower first?” he asked Eddie.

“Fine with me,” Eddie responded.

Wayne nodded once, smiling at them both, and walked to his room to grab clothes for after his shower.

Steve looked up at Eddie shyly.

“Lasagna will be about 20 more minutes if you wanna grab a drink,” he said quietly.

Eddie smirked.

“Some of that lemonade sounds nice,” he played along, knowing exactly where this was going.

No matter how tired or sore he was, he wouldn’t turn down the chance to get his hands on Steve or have Steve’s hands on him.

Steve led him into the kitchen by his hand, tugging him along as he excitedly explained that he’d found the lemons at a farm stand on his way home from work yesterday and considered using them for a cheesecake, but decided this would be better.

Eddie smiled at him fondly, just happy that Steve is happy.

“I’ll get you a glass, just wait right there,” Steve said, pushing him against the counter gently.

But Eddie didn’t let him pull away yet, fisted his shirt and pulled him against his front.

“Eds!” Steve yelped as they made contact.

“I’m sure the lemonade is perfect, but I want a taste of you first, sugar,” Eddie mumbled, leaning down to press his lips against Steve’s.

Steve melted against him, letting Eddie’s tongue past his lips and letting out a low moan when Eddie’s hands squeezed his ass.

“What’re you doing?” he whispered against Eddie’s lips.

“Touching you,” Eddie answered before kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw.

“Wayne though.”

“He’s already in the shower. We got a few minutes.”

“We can’t do much in a few minutes,” Steve said, trying to stifle another moan as Eddie’s fingers untied his apron and slid to the front of his jeans to undo his button.

“You underestimate how hot it is to see you like a little housewife, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckled.

Steve slapped his arm.

“Not a housewife.”

“No? You sure seemed happy about cleaning up and cooking for me,” Eddie said as he slid his hands into the waistband of Steve’s boxers.

“Eds,” he gasped, but didn’t stop him as he wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock.

“Get me out, Stevie. Don’t have much time,” Eddie groaned.

Steve did as he was asked, but still seemed hesitant.

Eddie paused.

“You wanna call it?” he asked.

If Steve truly didn’t want to, he knew what to say to stop, and he knew Eddie would stop, no questions asked.

But he shook his head, biting his lip to contain a whimper as Eddie looked down at their cocks and spit.

“Gotta stay quiet, still. Don’t wanna be caught,” Eddie whispered as he leaned in to kiss him again, keep his mouth preoccupied so he didn’t give them away.

He knew Wayne would be at least another 10 minutes, but they both liked the idea of having to stay quiet and be quick.

And quick it was.

They both came in barely two minutes, Eddie riled up from Steve just being Steve, Steve being riled up at the fact they were doing this in the kitchen.

“I just cleaned this floor, you better not have gotten anything on it,” Steve smirked at Eddie as they buttoned themselves back up.

“Promise I’ll clean it up myself if I did.”

“You better. Gonna go shower next?” Steve tied the apron back up, walking over to the fridge to finally get the lemonade.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sore today. Hot water will help.”

Steve turned to him with a furrowed brow.

“You should’ve said, baby. You need some Motrin or something?”

“Nah, maybe after I eat. Got a dose of you to help,” he winked obnoxiously.

“Alright, keep it in your pants,” Steve said as he poured a glass for Eddie and a glass for Wayne.

“You’re the one who had it out a minute ago!”

Steve just gave him a dead-eyed stare before handing him his lemonade.

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Eddie saluted.

He took a few sips of the lemonade as he walked towards his bedroom to grab clothes.

It was delicious, as he expected.

Just like coming home to Steve every day.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #wayne munson #steve's housewife tendencies

653 notes · View notes

tmpestuous · 2 years

Text

One Step at a Time

summary: when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader

a/n: here’s another avenger!reader one shot from the long list of ideas i have… i’m thinking of making them all connected so it’s the same reader from six days (: i promise my next fic won’t be so depressing i apologize

Trying to fight off the hand currently clasped over your mouth, you were only repeatedly unsuccessful. Steve hadn’t seen you get dragged off, turning around and panicking immediately.

You could hear his calls for your voice become increasingly faint as the men dragged you to a secluded room you assumed Steve wouldn’t be able to access.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is, Steve?” Bucky sat, still in his disheveled state from being woken up abruptly by Sam for an emergency meeting.

“Buck, wake up man,” Sam said, clasping Bucky’s shoulder lightly and shaking him a bit.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, Bucky wondered what could possibly be so important this early in the morning. He never got much sleep when you went on your missions, feeling the bed to be a little too empty and thus, leaving him lonely with his thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it read 4:17AM.

Looking back at Sam, Bucky knew something wasn’t right. Sam’s usual, playful nature replaced with one that looked remorseful.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Y/n, Buck,” Sam responded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He looked nervous, almost as if it was his fault. “She’s missing. Steve wants to have a meeting with us.”

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Bucky said calmly, though he most certainly felt his heart drop from his chest.

Sam was just as distraught as Bucky in the meeting, bobbing his knee up and down in his seat. He had told you Steve was swapping with him for the mission, second guessing himself after taking it up in the first place. You were upset he wasn’t joining you, having been the only person you trusted enough to go on missions alone with besides Bucky since you recovered from the explosion. It made him feel guilty that it had resulted in your disappearance.

It had taken you a while to feel comfortable enough to start participating in any missions, and even when you did, you always made the effort to stay in the same room as someone else. You couldn’t bear to be alone again, more than just fearful to end up in another situation where you had no idea what to do with no immediate help.

Plunging the knife into the chest of the last man, you exhaled a few shaky breaths.

You had been fighting these men for what felt like hours. One of them had managed to stab you in the side while you weren’t looking, and to your eventual disadvantage, you pulled it out of your suit and used it to deal with about ten other men on your own.

Staring at the last man only pushed you to look at the vast amount of bodies around you, about twenty of them laying in pools of blood everywhere, most of which you barely recalled finishing off.

You had experienced your fair share of moments with blind rage before, most of which came from your time with Hydra. But you made the effort never to kill someone. A vow you made to yourself, which was now broken.

Choking on a sob you didn’t realize was coming, you stood up and placed pressure on your stab wound before searching through the room for medical supplies. It was clearly a doctor’s room, one that reminded you of the office you spent a lot of time in while captured by Hydra.

Finding a first aid kit, you did your best to stitch and patch the stab wound with so little supplies. Once you were finished, you put the jacket of your suit back on, knowing it was freezing outside and you had to find some sort of shelter.

If there were more men coming to the building, the last thing you wanted to do was try to fight more of them off in your current state. You had hoped Steve made it out, now doing everything you can to do the same for yourself.

Finding a nearby exit, you walked out into the cool air.

It was gonna be a long walk.

Steve was still in his suit, dirt covering his face though it did nothing to mask his solemn expression.

He wasn’t sure how the two of you got separated. He was keeping a close eye on you since the last time you were paired together, things went bad. Hell, you almost died. Steve was simply starting to think he gave you bad luck when you were around him.

“I– I’m not sure,” Steve choked out, and he wasn’t lying at all. “We had made it inside and were met with some resistance, but we didn’t split up. We got caught up fighting and when I had turned around, she was gone. I didn’t leave her, Buck, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bucky believed him, but he couldn’t help but overthink the fact that you’d been caught up in a bad place in the last two missions you’ve spent with Steve. It was his best friend and, of course, he knew he’d never have ill intentions with you.

He just hoped you were okay.

“It’s okay, Steve,” he reassured. “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

God, you had hoped they’d somehow find you.

You swore you’d been walking in circles for ten hours, searching for the safe house Tony had informed you and Steve was near where your mission was taking place.

You were so tired. You had barely managed to fight off all of the maniacs who had tried to hold you captive in the old Hydra base you and Steve were assigned to get rid of. You recognized a few of them from your days in the organization, but it took you a lot longer to fight them on your own after getting stabbed in the side and a few hits to the head.

You had never done any killing with Hydra, seeing as they never got you to commit to it, but something had triggered you to kill almost all of them. The only ones who didn’t reap such consequences were the ones who had ambushed you and Steve when you both had found an entrance into the building.

You felt sick to your stomach because of it, along with all the energy being drained from you slowly but surely with every step you took towards nowhere at this point. You had lost your transponder somewhere in that god-forsaken building, so on top of losing Steve, it wasn’t like anyone back at the compound could track your location either.

Steve.

You assumed he’d started to look for you after you lost each other, but you had no idea if he was still in this general location. He might’ve stayed or gone back to the compound to tell the others you were missing.

It genuinely wasn’t his fault you got separated, and you’d only hoped he knew that. Someone who might not know that, on the other hand, is Bucky. You then hoped he wouldn’t give Steve a hard time, not wanting them to have any more tension than the last time you suffered while paired up with his best friend.

“She still has to go to the debrief, Bucky,” Steve pushed. “It’s been long enough and we’ve pushed past protocol longer than we ever have.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk about it, Steve? We all went to debrief, why does she have to do it too?”

“She experienced what none of us did,” the blonde countered again. “No one knows what happened in that room but her. We need every detail.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gave in. But he regretted it the second things were rough in the meeting.

“You have to remember, Y/n,” Steve tried to encourage you, but it wasn’t really working.

“I told you I never found where it came from, I’m not making that up,” you defended.

“You said you didn’t remember if you found where it came from.”

“The last thing I remember was seeing one blink of a red light before the explosion. I don’t remember if it was actually the source or something else. I never found it, Steve,” you urged softly.

Bucky was getting irritated. You hadn’t talked much to him about what happened because you hated how you felt afterwards, and now you were sitting here getting interrogated by Steve who hadn’t been there every step of your recovery.

“Y/n–”

“I think that’s enough, Steve,” Bucky said before grabbing your hand and standing up. “We’re done here.”

Your recollection of the memory was short-lived when you felt your suit starting to feel a lot wetter than before, peeking down to see it staining with fresh blood which means your wound had reopened. Limping towards what looked like an empty house, seeming freshly abandoned, you winced at the pain in your side. Walking up to the front door, you quickly jammed it in, glad to feel warmth in contrast to the cold air from outside.

Looking around to see if anyone was inside, you found yourself alone. Settling on a first aid kit from the bathroom, you plopped yourself on the couch and ripped the jacket of your suit off, almost peeling it with the dried blood making it stick to your skin a bit.

You did your best to restitch and patch the stab wound, but you knew you’d certainly have to redo it in a few hours. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, likely from the loss of blood and lack of nourishment. Trying your best to stay awake didn’t work as well as you hoped, but you held on for as long as you could.

Back at the compound, Bucky was packing everything he possibly needed. He didn’t know how long it was gonna take to find you, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t stop searching until he did. He had told Steve it was best for him to stay for this one, knowing he was feeling the guilt of having you go lost in the first place.

Bucky heard a knock at his door, turning around to see Sam in his doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing Bucky zip his bags.

“Let’s find her.”

It had been less than five hours since Steve had broken the news that he lost you. First, he told Bucky and Sam, knowing it’d be of most importance to them. Then the rest of the team had joined in on the meeting, immediately making plans on how to find her.

Sam, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Thor had agreed to go with Bucky to help find you. Bucky had no problem going on his own, but Natasha assured that it’d be best for everyone to join in. They attributed your last known location to the last signal your transponder gave off, and thus decided to start there.

Steve waved them off as they left on the jet, but everyone was aware he’d be tracking from back at the compound.

Upon making it to the location of your mission and where they knew you had been at some point, they found your (now dead) transponder in the middle of a pool of blood. There were bodies everywhere, and Bucky had only grown anxious.

You had never enjoyed getting unnecessarily violent, and in that, you always reminded him of himself. He was aware Hydra hadn’t toyed with your head nearly to the extent they did with him, but it was enough to do some damage.

You’d confided in him with all of your stories, never going into extreme detail out of compassion for his own experiences and not wanting to trigger him into those thoughts. However, he knew that you’d never killed anyone. Beaten some people beyond a general healing point, definitely, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a life. Hydra had their fair share of punishments for you because of that but it hadn’t broken you to the point of reaching that point.

Seeing all the dead bodies scattered across the room, there had to be about twenty of them. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but it undoubtedly scared him. If you were in that much trouble to cause such damage, he was worried about what state he’d find you in.

Seeing everyone make their way out of the room, Bucky shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to distract himself from his priority: finding you, regardless of what state you’d be in.

“If she’s injured, she couldn’t have made it far,” Natasha stated, staring around at the outside of the building from an open window. “She might still be around here somewhere, maybe hid–”

Lights from a series of vehicles appeared outside. About four dozen Hydra men made their way towards the entrance of the building, murmuring about how they needed to find you before the Avengers did.

“We’ve got company, boys,” Natasha stated instead of finishing her previous thought.

Bucky made his way to the window, seeing that horrid insignia his memory would never let him forget. “Hydra. There’s more of them still around than I thought.”

“Cut a head off, two more take its place, huh?” Natasha recalled the organization’s motto. “We need to do this quickly, we don’t know how much time Y/n’s got and we still don’t know where she is–”

“Go,” Bucky said. “Go find her, I’ll handle them.”

“Buck, is that really the best ch–” Sam started.

“I said, go.”

“I’m sticking with you, everyone else can go.”

Bucky sighed before nodding in agreement. Natasha made her way out with Tony, Thor, and Clint, finding a back entrance. Bruce was still in the jet, tracking nearby buildings you could possibly be in. Thor, Natasha, and Clint decided to split up and search each one, Tony trying to find heat signatures that could somehow match yours.

Bucky and Sam made their way to the ground floor, watching all of the men surge in. Bucky loaded his rifle, Sam releasing Redwing to count how many men there were.

“There’s 40 of them,” Sam whispered loud enough for only Bucky to hear him.

“20 for each of us, huh?” Bucky adjusted his hold on his rifle from around the corner of the hallway. “If Y/n can do it, so can we.” Feeling a boost in confidence, Bucky started to make his move, knocking out a few men right away as Sam did the same.

He knew he couldn’t let anyone get to you before anyone from the team did, even if it meant letting the others go ahead of him. He felt a lot more calculated than he usually did, knowing your life (or death) was in the gamble of the entire operation.

You, on the other hand, were about to give up. Staying awake has never been this difficult, but with your pulse going faster by the second and the sudden chills you were feeling, you had a feeling this was it.

Your wound hadn’t opened at all in the last two hours, but you attributed it to pure luck at this point. The way you were feeling could only be coming from the gaping hole on the side of your torso, even covered.

You still tried your best to keep your eyes open, knowing you weren’t going to let yourself die cold and alone in the middle of nowhere. You felt awful, a few tears shedding from your eyes from how sick you were starting to feel. You wanted to sleep, but you were scared to go under and then not wake up.

Not to mention, you couldn’t sleep knowing the nightmares that were inevitably going to come. Feeling physically awful was one thing, but watching all those lifeless bodies fall to the floor after you killed them only made you feel worse. You couldn’t get the memory out of your head, only sobbing slightly to yourself thinking about it.

The thought that lingered even more in your head was how you were gonna tell Bucky. He knew you’d never resort to such drastic measures and you were afraid he’d look at you different once he found out.

If he even found you alive at this point.

The team had searched about 40 houses in the last two hours, eventually teaming up with Bucky and Sam who had dealt with all forty men in the span of half an hour. They even checked the safe house in case you had made it and passed out before communicating with them, but you weren’t there either.

“There’s only one house left on this entire street,” Bruce spoke through comms.

Bucky’s anxiety was only going sky high with every second they hadn’t found you yet. They had no idea what your condition was like and he was doing his best not to think of the worst possible scenario. He’d hoped the tricks he taught you while on missions with him had helped somewhat, like knowing how to stitch a wound or finding a safe place from danger.

Bucky’s racing mind was interrupted by Tony’s voice on comms; he had gone to check the house and determine if there was anyone inside.

“Heat signature matches Y/l/n’s, and it’s not looking too good,” he said as he landed back on the ground.

The team rushed over, Bucky running faster than he’d ever run before. Opening the door in a rush, he saw you laying on the couch, taking staggered breaths with your eyes closed. Everyone had walked in behind him, Natasha alerting Bruce that they had found you and telling him to prep the jet.

Bucky’s only focus was you. He placed his hands on your cheek, startling you enough to push him back before your eyes landed on him.

“Bucky?” you said, definitely not believing your eyes as you looked around and saw everyone else in the room.

Bucky approached you again slowly, not wanting to scare you further since you were probably in shock.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” he assured you as you stared him down frantically before you started to sob. “We came to take you home, alright? We’re going home.”

As the jet landed outside, Bucky picked you up in his arms. You instinctively curled up against him, hiding your cold face in the warmth of the crook of his neck. After everyone boarded, the jet made its way back to the compound.

Bucky had looked at your wound, replacing the dirty gauze for a clean one. You’d cried almost the entire ride, all of your emotions rushing in like a freight train.

It hurt Bucky to see you in such a state, knowing you were tired of all the losses in life. He knew exactly how it felt, but he’d also felt you deserved it much less than he did all those years. You didn’t kill anyone like he did, you didn’t ruin anyone’s life like he did, you didn’t make people scared of you. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head, knowing you’d scold him again for thinking so low of himself in comparison to you.

Running his hands through your hair, he stayed next to you the entire time, reassuring you that you were safe and soothing you as best as he could.

Once you all had arrived to the compound, it only got worse.

A gurney was waiting for you on the landing pad, which you didn’t want to be laid on, to begin with. Once they had strapped you down, your cries only got worse, screaming Bucky’s name out as they took you to the medical bay. Bucky wanted to follow, but Sam stopped him, saying it was best to do the debrief right away.

You refused to let anyone touch you unless Bucky was there, and the doctors in the medical bay were getting so frustrated, the only choice they had was to sedate you in the meantime. When they had finally patched up your wound properly, they left you to rest.

Rest was very much not in your cards, however, with your crying fits continuing and Bucky’s hearts breaking into about a million more pieces than before when he walked into your room to see you crying to yourself.

“Y/n…” he spoke softly, sliding into the bed with you carefully and pulling you into his arms, cautious enough not to hurt you further. Kissing the top of your head multiple times, he rubbed your arms up and down until your cries eventually stopped.

“Y-you’re gonna hate me, Bucky,” you said with a shaky voice. “I don’t want you to hate me when you find out what I did.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he looked down at you, but Bucky was well aware what you were thinking of. “I could never hate you. Ever. Not after everything we’ve been through together, okay? Don’t ever say something like that.”

Bucky heard you sniffle and saw a few tears fall down your cheeks, heart aching at the fact that you might start sobbing again. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face from him in his chest.

The following days were still rough. Bucky felt lucky enough that you’d have your meals with him, but you didn’t feel like leaving your room. Steve had checked in with you and said you wouldn’t have to update anyone on what happened after you got separated. Not until you were ready to talk about it.

Bucky stayed with you more often, even after you pleaded with him to not tear up his schedule for you. He skipped out on a mission just so he could stay with you, which he assured you was okay because it meant his next mission would be with you.

The only way you got him to go back to his routine was to offer to train with him. He had asked you a million times if you were sure, knowing what most likely occurred back on your mission’s complication. Eventually, he gave in as he always did, but he knew he wasn’t going to rush you into anything.

Picking up your normal tools for your usual, more-intense sparring sessions you always had with Bucky, your hands started to shake. Bucky noticed and rubbed your shoulders smoothly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded up at him, putting your tools down. You thought it’d help to move slow, but the second you knocked Bucky down, you kneeled down next to him, anxiously asking if he was okay with tears in your eyes.

Bucky looked up at you quizzically, knowing you knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you couldn’t hurt him detrimentally from a normal sparring session.

He wiped your tears away as you stared at him with fear in your eyes, only making him feel even worse about you experiencing what you had experienced alone.

“Baby, hey,” he said as you shut your eyes and cried. “Look at me.”

Blinking a few times, you sniffled and looked down at him, completely uncaring of your tears that had fallen on his shirt.

“You could never hurt me, my love,” he rubbed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, though it was the comfort you surely needed. “The only way you could hurt me is by breaking my heart and I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, right?”

You shook your head.

“Then don’t worry so much, baby,” he leaned up and kissed your lips softly. “I’m more than okay. You were just better than me. Let’s go shower and watch a movie.”

Standing up and lifting you up with a helping hand, you both walked back to Bucky’s room which was the closest. Stepping into the bathroom, Bucky let the water run from the showerhead so it could get warm. You stripped yourself of your clothes as he did the same, before getting into the shower.

After cleansing yourselves, Bucky rubbed your tense shoulders once again as you leaned into him.

“I killed them,” you muffled into his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky questioned, not quite hearing you over the running water and with your face down. Lifting your chin up to look at him, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you’d done all day. “You don’t have to talk about anything, Y/n. Okay? We can talk about it some other time.

Shaking your head, you sighed in faltered breaths. “I killed them, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at you with sorrow. He didn’t know how to tell you that he already knew, he didn’t even know if it was the right thing to tell you. All he did was brush your tears away and kiss your forehead, nose, then lips.

“You need to relax a bit, baby, okay?” he spoke in a soft tone. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Staring up at him in confusion, you shook your head again.

“You know already,” you confirmed to yourself, knowing Bucky too well to know he would usually ask if you wanted to talk further about something before putting it to bed. “You know I killed all those people.”

Bucky sighed, staring into your eyes before closing his and nodding slightly. “I do.”

“And you don’t look at me differently?” you asked, your voice a lot more calm and collected now. “I broke my promise, I didn’t even show them any mercy, Bucky—”

“Do you look at me differently knowing all the people I killed?” he interrupted, placing his flesh hand on your cheek and rubbing it slightly with his thumb. “You don’t, you never have. You knew who I was when you first got here and never looked at me differently. Why would I do that to you?”

“That’s different,” you countered. “You had no idea what you were doing, Bucky. I did.”

“You were defending yourself,” he retaliated, doing his best not to downplay your feelings. “If you hadn’t killed them, who knows what they would have done to you? It’s Hydra, they don’t care who they hurt or how they do it. If I were you, I would have done the same thing.”

He was right and you knew it. You laid your head back on his chest, scared to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” you admitted. “I don’t know who I was when all of that happened and I just— it felt like I was trying to escape them all over again and I’ve never experienced that before. I was scared.”

“And that’s okay,” Bucky reassured you the same way he always had, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby.”

You sniffled again before leaning into him more. “Can you just hold me for now?”

Bucky kissed your head again, squeezing his arms around you in all the warmth he could possibly transfer.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—

I promise this is the last of my desire to write angst with injuring the reader… thank you for reading!

tags: @jessybarnes

#bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader

3K notes · View notes

anilovie · 5 months

Text

Anakin taking care of you when you’re sick.

WC: 1.5k

TW: mentions of throwing up but very brief and no descriptions.

You distinctly remember thinking to yourself — “I better not catch whatever this is” — as soon as the third youngling came into the medbay puking all over the place.

You wore gloves, washed your hands, put on a mask, even knocked on wood— yet you still woke up in the early hours of the morning to an excruciating cramping in your stomach, making you curl into yourself and roll around your bed until your dinner worked its way up your system and out into the toilet (that you thankfully reached just in time).

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so lousy. Being a medic, you knew how to take care of yourself and rarely ever got sick. Much less with a bad GI bug, one that kept you in bed and away from your duties without letting anyone know.

It was very unlike you to go radio silent; which is why Ahoksa thought it was strange that you hadn’t met her in the great hall that morning to go on your daily caf run, like you always do before the day truly begins.

She sought you out in your room, where the lights were still off and it smelled of sickness, and you were bundled in your blankets in the midst of a fitful sleep.

Too weak to get up, you croaked that you didn’t think you could get caf with her today, to which she was completely understanding of. She let you be, cracking a window open on the way out to let fresh air in.

Then promptly went straight to Anakin.

You stirred to the sound of the door opening not even an hour later, lifting your head enough to catch sight of a tall, familiar silhouette equipped with leather tabards, thick utility belt, and lightsaber hanging off the left hip. Something twisted in your stomach, a ball of nervousness rising in you as you realized Anakin had come to see you… alone.

You let your head fall back to the pillows, closing your eyes at the uncomfortable aching in your stomach. You felt the bed dip by your feet as Anakin perched on the edge, metal hand coming up to rest on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Not feeling so good, huh?” He spoke in a hushed voice, rasping in the low register. Despite the pain in your tummy, you preened at his proximity and innocent touch. You’d had the biggest crush on Anakin for quite some time now, but he didn’t know that.

You let out a disgruntled “Mmm” and curled in on yourself further, overtaken by a wave of nausea. Thankfully, you’d forced yourself into a shower after your third round of puking, which was somewhere between midnight and dawn. You were clean, but you’d also slept on wet hair, so you looked all messy.

“Ahsoka said you’ve been getting sick?” He tried to get some words out of you, thumb rubbing soothingly across your arm.

“‘Think I picked something up from the younglings,” you mumbled, face still half buried in your blankets. “You might not want to get too close.”

“How many times have you been sick?” He completely ignored your request.

You thought for a moment. “Three or four times. Haven’t had to in a couple hours though, so I think I’m getting better…”

“Show me where it hurts.”

He wasn’t asking, but his tone was so soft you couldn’t deny him. Plus, he’d come here for you.

You shifted around in bed, rolling onto your back so that you were now looking up at him, surrounded in a cocoon of blankets. You pushed them down to reveal your tummy, clad in your softest and warmest sweater.

“Just my stomach,” you refused to meet his eyes. “But it’s not so bad anymore. Just feel… icky.”

“Hm,” he hummed, eyes flicking up to your face before landing on the hands covering your stomach. You never forgot how handsome he was, but it still shocked you like a slap in the face whenever you were met with him head-on like this. Paired with that soft, raspy voice, the obvious concern in his eyes, and the fact that he’d come just for you— you wanted to melt into a puddle.

“Can I try something?” He spoke, and you lifted your gaze to his face warily. You trusted him, so you nodded your head.

He brought his hand — the flesh one this time— across your body and let it rest on your tummy gently. Just the one hand almost spanned your whole abdomen. You immediately squirmed your hips back, not expecting him to have touched you so brazenly. You and Anakin were friends… but you had yet to cross a line like this before.

You let his hand rest there, hoping he didn’t notice how squishy and bloated you were right now, and if he did, that he didn’t mind. Your hands were curled into fists, tucked under your chin as you peered down at his gentle touch on your tummy curiously, wondering what he was doing.

“Just like this,” he assured you when he saw your alarmed face. “How’s this feel?”

You focused on your stomach again, expecting to be met with that gross nauseous feeling that had been plaguing you for hours. It was still there, but now it was… dull. Muted, like he’d snuffed out the discomfort with a blanket.

Unable to help yourself, you brought your hands down to his, one hand closing over his wrist and the other fitting atop his outstretched hand, keeping him just where he was. “Feels better, Ani,” you sniffed, eyes fluttering closed as warmth from his touch seeped into your aching tummy, soothing it all away.

The corner of his lips pulled up slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just kept the gentle pressure over your stomach with a little look of concentration on his face. Realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, you let yourself fully relax back into your blankets.

He thought you looked so cute — and slightly pathetic — at the way you melted back into the bed. Cheeks flushed with sickness, hair all messy, oversized sweater falling off your shoulder and over the hands grabbing at his own… he’d stay with you all day if he could. But alas, he had duties to attend to.

“This should last for about half an hour,” he spoke gently after a while. You groggily opened your eyes and frowned as he pulled his hand away, shivering at the loss of warmth and contact.

“Mkay,” you couldn’t keep the whine out of your voice, though you were too proud to complain. “Thanks, Anakin. Doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

“Good,” he cooed, this time with a full smile. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, eyes probing into your face as he scanned you over. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down.”

“What about something bland… like toast?”

“Mmm,” you crinkled your nose up at the thought, gloriously subdued nausea making it easier to relent. “Alright. But only with a little bit of butter, not a lot.”

“Got it,” that strand of hair seemed to capture his attention, because he kept running it through his fingers, his touch tickling your cheek. “And some tea?”

“Sure,” you squeezed out a grateful, sheepish smile. “With honey, please. Thank you.”

“‘Course,” Anakin leaned over, planting a quick kiss to your forehead. Your skin tingled where his soft lips made contact, eyes blown wide at the sweet action. “Coming right up.”

He left like he’d done nothing at all. Meanwhile, you were lifting your hand to trace your fingertips over the spot he’d just kissed, the phantom touch of his lips still lingering.

You huffed lightly, flustered, and turned onto your side to curl back into a ball. You buried your lovesick smile into your pillows, clutching your favorite stuffie to your chest as you listened to the distant sounds of Anakin clinking around in your kitchen.

It didn’t take long, but you’d still fallen half-asleep again by the time he returned. With the pain in your stomach temporarily dulled and the exhaustion weighing on you from your sleepless night, it was easy to pass out again. Anakin woke you with another gentle touch to your shoulder.

“I’ll leave it here for you when you’re ready to eat something,” his tone dropped to a whisper, not wanting to disturb you anymore. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be back to check on you tonight.”

Your whole body filled with warmth at his words, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You nodded and blinked open your eyes, blearily regarding him from your blanket cocoon.

“Thank you, Ani,” you slurred sleepily, shivering as he let his flesh hand cup your cheek in an affectionate touch. He was just taking care of you. It didn’t mean what you wanted it to… but it was nice to pretend. “Have a good day. Be safe.”

He just huffed out a silent laugh and withdrew his hand. You were still smiling when you heard his bootsteps recede and your door close. You allowed yourself to fall back into a blissful slumber, head fuzzy with the remnants of his simple touches, clinging to the fact that he would be back later to see you.

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seungmoonandstars · 1 month

Text

𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹

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Kim Seungmin/noona reader

wc: 6.8k

rating: fluff/explicit/18+ ಇ (idiots to lovers)

contains: light angst, weight mention, medication mention, virgin!Minnie, unprotected sex

songs to listen to while reading: violents - awake and pretty much sober / orion sun - water

part one / part two // masterlist ☽

Every story I write is a work of love, and I enjoy spending my free time doing it, regardless of the attention is receives, but your reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! If you enjoy anything I write, please reblog! ❣️

────────────────♡───✦

There should be tension, but there isn’t. It’s dark—every light is off, and the curtains are closed to the city outside. All either of you can see is what your eyes allow in the pitch black.

Seungmin keeps to his side, respecting the empty space between you.

He’s tight under the covers, but his eyes are wide open and taking in as much as possible. You, however, are beginning to doze off. You’re exhausted, and he’s smiling as your eyes get heavier—they close longer each time you force yourself awake to look at him.

“Sleep”

It may be the start of a dream, but you think you hear him speak to you.

“Sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning”

The curtains are pulled back when your eyes open again, and it’s so bright in the room, you have no choice but to pull the blanket over your head. Seungmin isn’t where you can see him. The spot where he should have been is neat and doesn’t look slept in. Your heart sinks. Did your head bring him back after he left? You fell asleep thinking he was with you, speaking softly as you drifted off to sleep.

“Good morning”

You turn, and there he is, leaning against the doorway. He changed his clothes, probably into whatever he kept in his overnight bag, but his hair is evidence of how hard he slept.

“You’re here”

“I’m here. I made some coffee, if you’re ready to get up. But sleep more if you need to.”

“No, I’m good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.

Seungmin did stay. Or, you didn’t kick him out, at least. Last night is hazy, and drinking was a stupid mistake, so the only thing you can remember is that you acted like a fool. And only he knows just how much of a fool. You feel okay, though. You’re not as hungover as you should be, but you do feel the ghost of a headache pushing at the back of your eyes.

When you finally come out, he watches you from the same spot he sat in last night, on the far side of the coffee table. There’s a mug already poured for you, right next to his.

“Are you hungry? Some haejangguk might be good for both of us.”

Calm and sweet and soft as always. You know his other side, the brat…the comedian—the one who always has a sarcastic comment to give out. You love both of them. But you know there’s so much more.

He seems to realize you drank well beyond your limit, he just hasn’t said it yet.

You look at him over the rim of your mug as you sip. He’s staring hard at his coffee.

“We drank too much last night, I think”

“I drank too much, not you…you don’t have to go easy on me. I acted like an idiot.”

“What happened? Did you mean what you said last night?”

“More than an idiot”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You were so upset, it was scary. Tell me you’re okay.”

“It’s so late, you must be busy today”

“I told the guys to call me in sick. I don’t have to be anywhere. Do you feel okay?” He cautiously inches his hand towards you, “do you feel like yourself?”

Sometimes you forget how much of yourself you’ve given to him over the months, and it seems like he knows you were out of it last night, literally…mentally. Not just drunk. But it’s been a while, and your tolerance has obviously diminished. Whatever adjustments you’ve had in your medication recently, it certainly doesn’t want any alcohol on top of it.

“Yeah, I think so. I can’t remember much of what happened. I thought I only dreamt that you stayed with me last night.”

“I was here,” his hand goes for your cheek, and runs his thumb across it. “And you slept soundly all morning.”

“Thank you for staying”

“Thank you for letting me”

“…but I understand if you don’t want to anymore”

Seungmin smiles and shakes his head, “how long have we known each other now?”

You do the math in your head as soon as you remember what day it is. “A year and…” when you look up at him again, he looks like he’s thinking along with you, “two months, three weeks...five days.”

“No hours?”

“Almost two hours, I think it was around noon when we met”

“You remember that?” His eyes light up when you nod at him, “well, in all that time, I have never not enjoyed your company, or wanted to cut our time short. I will stay for as long you’ll have me.”

“Seungmin, how long have you felt…like this? How I feel?”

“Let me think…” he sips his coffee, but his eyes don’t move from yours. And you can see the grin behind his mug. “Uhm, it was the day before Seotdal Geumeum, and you had just come back from a trip.”

The story already sounds familiar. You weren’t even sure he’d remember a certain day or conversation between the two of you, but knowing he kept this memory in his head—you suddenly need to get closer to him. Your eyes fall to the empty space on his crossed legs, and a memory from last night jumps up, but you shake it off and go back to his eyes.

“I saw you walking toward the cafeteria, and you stopped to say hi to me. I wasn’t sure you actually remembered who I was. Or if you knew my name. But you looked right at me, smiled and said, ‘good morning Seungmin, did you have breakfast already?’ And I thought for a moment that you were asking me to get breakfast, but…how silly, why would you want to get breakfast with me?”

The story is familiar. You remember this exact moment with him, and you laugh, but keep quiet until he finishes.

“I told you I did. You said ‘maybe next time’, and walked away. I watched you until you were gone. And every time I went down to eat, I hoped I would see you, so you could ask me again.”

“But you asked me”

Seungmin laughs and gets to his feet, “I’ll get us more coffee.”

“I was so upset that first time, when you told me you’d already eaten. It took so long to finally work up the courage to talk to you while you were alone. But I did that much, at least.”

More memories of him come to you as you watch him make your coffee; the first time you did eat with him, but not in the cafe at work. Seungmin asked if you’d go to the park and get hotteok with him because he was craving something sweet, and nobody else wanted to go. It was the first time he caught you alone, just as you were leaving. And of course you went—you cherished every moment of those two hours together because you weren’t sure if it would happen again.

Thinking back to that night makes you wonder how it took this long to get here.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to look at me over Chan or Minho hyung…any of them, really. Especially wasn’t expecting it to be you.” Seungmin sits back down and looks at you, and he stares quietly for much longer than necessary. He blinks slowly, and you can tell something is going on behind his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I remember Chan hyung talking about you before that, before we started spending time together. I feel like he was interested in you, but never did anything. I’m sure he still is. Anyway…I think I was kind of in love from that moment on.”

The air catches in your throat, and your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest. When you look at him, he sips his coffee like he didn’t just say what he said, but the pink of his cheeks makes you think otherwise.

“You were?” Sounding casual is impossible. You barely get the words out in a whisper.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. That was—“

“I don’t wanna disappoint you,” you stop and look toward the kitchen, toward the bedroom, then back at Seungmin. “Shit, I’m starting to remember last night.”

Bits and pieces pop up to the surface; the very moment your self conscious brain took over, when he lifted your shirt over your head, how concerned he was, how tight he held you. You remember him turning off the light to try to make you more comfortable, but nothing was going to fix what was already in motion.

“Too much? I can take that back, and save it for another time.”

And then he silently refused to leave. If you had ended up having your way, and if Seungmin had failed to see through you, you’d be having a very different morning.

“No, I’ll take it now.”

─ ⋅⋅ ─

A week goes by before you have a chance to see him again, but it feels like a month. As the days pass, and you lay in bed at night trying to sleep, the things you did and said to him that night slowly resurface. And you hate yourself for it. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt aren’t new, but you can’t believe you unleashed it on him. Seungmin didn’t deserve that.

The worst part of all of it, is that he remembers even more than you. Seungmin remembers every word and look you gave him. But he still left that night and texted you to check up, and he kept texting you…

I’ll see you tonight! If that’s still the plan. It’s been a long week, so I’m looking forward to it. I don’t want you to feel bad if you aren’t up to it, though.

Just let me know. If so, maybe I can just call you. I hope you have a good day.

You don’t want to mess things up again, and you won’t. The two of you will have dinner, watch a movie, nothing crazy…and hopefully afterward, you can pick up where you left off before things went downhill. But if not, you’re just happy to have him here with you again.

─ ⋅⋅ ─

He arrives right on time. When you open the door to greet him, his hands are stuffed in his pockets, his backpack is slung over one shoulder. The smile on his face is a little reserved.

Last week, when he left, things weren’t tense or awkward, so you’re not worried about that. What you don’t know is that Seungmin has been busy dwelling on his own words—his accidental confession…telling you he’s been in love with you. Not just harboring a secret crush, a physical attraction, a desire for sex—actually in love with you. He feels stupid for saying it. He feels silly and vulnerable for feeling it.

“Get in here,” you grab one of the straps and pull him in enough to close the door, “it’s good to see your face again.”

“Is it? I haven’t slept much the last few nights. I feel so tired and puffy.” He rubs his hands down his face and groans.

“Why haven’t you slept?” As much as you want to yank him down and kiss him, you don’t. You need to be careful, because even without the alcohol messing things up, you’re nervous. You reach out for him, “I don’t mind if you fall asleep on the couch.”

He leans onto your hand as it cups his chin. “I want to make sure I didn’t make things weird last time.”

“You? Make things weird?”

“Yes, because I kinda…said…the “L” word”

“No Minnie, you didn’t say anything wrong. I’m more afraid of you not feeling that way.”

You don’t have to worry about kissing him—he goes for it first. His hands wrap softly around the sides of your neck as he works on your mouth, and he’s so good at it. Or maybe he’s not, and you just think he is. Maybe you’re both a little awkward. It doesn’t matter—his tongue sliding against yours, and his hands squeezing your neck is heaven.

Seungmin is desperately pulling you closer to his height. His arm grabs around your waist and lifts, and your stomach drops at the thought of him trying to pick you up and failing. You’re too heavy for this. He doesn’t try, though—just brings you closer to his mouth, touches all over your back. Then bites down hard on your lip.

You ouch and laugh into the kiss as he slowly lets go, and he brings some blood back with him.

“I…oh you’re bleeding,” he licks it from his lips and wipes at yours with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m okay! It’s no big deal, it’s just a little scratch.”

He watches it for a moment to see if it starts again, and it does. “Let’s go put something on it.”

You won’t tell him, but your bottom lip is throbbing. Seungmin already feels bad enough, and you watch his worried face as he wets a washcloth, rings it out, and puts it on you. And the cold feels so nice.

“See, it did hurt,” he peeks at it again to see if he got anymore blood. “That feels good, yeah?”

“It does”

“I didn’t know my teeth were so sharp,” he says it mostly to himself, “maybe it was my braces.”

His tongue slides across his top teeth to check. Then his bottom teeth. And then he does the same thing with his thumb and index finger.

“It’s okay, Minnie. It’s not gonna discourage me from kissing you.”

“Mm, but it might hurt if we do that right now,” he frowns and runs his thumb over the mark he made, across your lips, then leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I can be patient”

Seungmin stays there for a while, lips pressed firmly against you. Your mouth still throbs a little, but you push it out of your mind and go straight for his neck. So, not very patient. You can only reach him when he’s bent down like this, so he lets you go after him until you bite down.

“Oh, you’re just getting back at me!”

“That wasn’t the plan, but I took the opportunity”

“Do it again,” he grabs you and lifts until you can nuzzle against his neck.

“Okay, just one more”

You kiss the same spot and suck, sink your teeth in a little, just until you hear him sigh. Seungmin likes getting bit, and maybe doesn’t mind you leaving marks. You move down a little near his collar bone, and suck again.

“That’s two,” he laughs and groans when you bite down.

“Stop me if you want”

The mm mm in your ear tickles and tingles down your spine, and you’re lifted again, but this time your feet leave the floor and you have no choice but to grab him around the neck, “Seungmin!”

“Yeah?” He holds you securely around your hips, and he’s smiling, very satisfied with himself. “What?” He smiles even wider, “you don’t like being held?”

“No, I just wasn’t sure you could lift me”

“I wasn’t worried,” he squeezes even tighter and licks his lips. “Besides, I’m stronger than I look.”

“I see that…” the pain in your lip still hasn’t quit, thanks to your biting, so you go for another soft kiss on his lips, “strong legs.”

“Strong core.” Seungmin returns the kiss, just as softly.

The thought of him and his core sends your stomach swirling, and it dips down slowly and makes your thighs shake. Seungmin feels you tighten around him, and his fingers dig into your back.

“Are you gonna take me somewhere?”

“Hm? Oh…yes, but this is also nice,” he takes a few steps out of the kitchen, toward the couch, gaze stuck on yours.

It’s a smooth walk, and you’re still a little surprised at how easy it seems to be for him—but you think too soon, because it feels like you’re going to fall, but you don’t, because Seungmin catches himself before you both end up the floor. He still holds tight and looks at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, uh…”

“Coffee table”

“Yeah, forgot about the coffee table. You good?”

Just as you nod, he bends down and very carefully sets you on the couch. But he doesn’t sit with you, or climb over you like you want him to. Seungmin stands and looms, pushes his hair back and away from his eyes. He just looks at you for a moment, then his stare very obviously moves down your body, then back up.

“Be right back”

He turns and walks off before you can protest. Off toward the bathroom, you think, or you assume. Where else could he possibly be going? You lie there for a while and wonder if the room is too quiet, too awkward, considering what might be about to happen. Dinner is still in the oven staying warm, and as much as you want to get up and check on it, you don’t want him to come back out and see you some where he didn’t put you.

What you can do is reach for your phone on the coffee table, connect to your speakers, and get rid of the silence. You do, and you fight with yourself for far too long about what to put on, about what would even be appropriate for right now.

Then you look down at yourself—the outfit you threw on is a little short of date night, but you knew you were staying in, and you wanted to be comfortable. Seungmin always is…he came in his usual sweatpants and t-shirt tonight. You loosen the string on your shorts and tie it in a bow just as he comes back out.

“Are you comfy?” He bends down and kisses your forehead again, then looks around. “I like the mood music.”

“Yeah, you okay? You were gone for a while.”

“I’m okay,” his voice softens as he looks at your hand hanging from his pocket. “I’m good.”

Seungmin doesn’t stop you when you slide it closer and touch him. He’s still soft, but not completely—he’s growing, and he twitches against your fingertips. It feels like last time, though, and you don’t want to recreate that, even if you are okay tonight. But Seungmin whines when you pull your hand away.

“I can turn some lights down,” he whispers, “gimme a second.”

He starts with the lamp right above you, then heads toward one of the windows and clicks off another one as he pulls the blinds shut. Now the only light is what’s spilling in from the kitchen. It’s much better.

Seungmin stands over you again, mostly a silhouette, and the light lays softly on one side of him, ��is that better?”

His voice is warm, and he looks warm—he is warm, you know that—and your need for him is pulsing through every vein and muscle and limb . It feels like your heart could explode, and keeping your breathing steady is much more work than it should be. You sit up a little and reach for him again, his waistband this time, and tuck your fingers into it. Your knuckles run across his sharp hip, you pull, and Seungmin pulls on his other side.

There’s no teasing this time. You pull down, he follows, and you take his cock in your hand once he’s free. Still not fully hard, but considering his size, you’re not surprised.

“Seungmin?” When you look up at his face, mostly hidden by the dark, you can see his lust drunk eyes getting heavy.

“Mm?”

He falls to one knee on the couch and puts all of his weight on it, and grabs for you. The feeling of your strokes has him a little dizzy, so when you use your mouth, it feels like he might collapse into you. He stays up, though. One hand grips the back of your neck, the other uses the couch for balance. Watching you is making him delirious.

You slow down, but your lips don’t leave him. They graze lightly over his length, and your tongue comes out to lap up the pre-cum. When you look up at him, you wonder if he realizes how out of it he looks. You’re surprised his legs haven’t given out on him. “Sit.”

He listens and pulls at his sweats on his way down. It’s a relief to be relaxing, melting into the couch as you swallow him again. Now his hands can touch you more, slide across your neck and back, move down until his fingers slip under your shorts and squeeze. Seungmin has been quiet, but he finally moans, and it sends you over the edge.

As soon as you stop, he whines again—just a barely audible no as his hips writhe beneath the loose grip of your hand.

“Minnie,” you start again, and your strokes are slow and careful, and just enough to keep him where he’s at. A change of position wakes him up a little. “Look at me.”

“I’m looking,” he smiles and grabs your hip. “I’m here.”

“You sure?”

He’s as here as he’s going to be. Soon, he’ll be even more lost, but Seungmin nods seriously as he watches you.

“Min…hey can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are too busy following the up and down of your hand on his cock. The sound, the way you squeeze so gently and move your thumb across his head.

“Minnie?” This time you stop completely, and it breaks the trance he’s in. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

A quick, dazed nod, then he patiently waits as you put his dick away and fix his sweatpants. Now he holds you tight. He’s not sure how well he’ll stand with his legs so unstable, and with this painfully hard erection sucking the blood from his limbs, but he’s going to try.

“Hold onto me,” he scoots up and plants his feet firmly on the floor, and then he’s up with nothing but a tiny grunt. Seungmin sighs as he gets his bearings, and starts to move.

“I could’ve walked,” but you like this…you like the smile on his face when he hitches you up and holds you securely against him. This view almost makes you forget all of the things you remembered from before—the thoughts, and doubts that still float into your mind when you have too much time to think. Looking at him makes them less powerful each time.

“Bedroooom,” he sings it, and it empties your head and gives you butterflies. “I won’t trip this time.”

The only thing on your mind is him.

“What were you gonna ask me?”

What were you going to ask? It’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, it’s not important.

“I’ll let you know when I remember.”

The trip to the far side of the bed is long. Seungmin takes his time, walking slowly, watching you but peeking over your shoulder to make sure he isn’t running into anything. He pulls you close before setting you down, kisses your shoulder and neck.

“You are a surprise…”

He tilts his head, “why am I a surprise?”

The head tilt, the soft biting on his bottom lip…there’s something so strangely confident about him as he stands over you. Now you remember what you wanted to ask him.

“You’re a little romantic”

Seungmin pulls his shirt off and shakes his hair flat again, “I am? Is that not what you expected?”

“No, I guess it isn’t.”

He’s on you before you can finish your thought, first just hovering, looking at you. He waits for you to touch him, because as soon as your hands slide up his sides, he comes down and kisses again. Ear, neck, all along your shoulder.

“Why not?”

Because you’ve only ever, until very recently, seen his unserious side. Sweet, yes…and always there when you need him. But never, even in your countless daydreams and musings, did you think him one to carry you to your bed, and kiss you so lovingly wherever he could find a spot. At least not so quickly. He’s still doing it right now. Seungmin’s lips are tracing a line down your arm, of all places, and he keeps going until he gets to your fingers.

“Maybe I don’t know you as well I think I do. We’re both bad with our feelings, right?”

“Mm, but not right now”

No, not right now. Seungmin seems to have no trouble showing you his feelings right at this moment. His mouth moves to your hip, and you can feel his fingers tug at the string on your shorts. Your heart pounds, and you’re afraid of him noticing how fucked up your breathing is. It’s taking a lot of effort to keep calm. You want this, you want him. You absolutely want him. So why can’t you let yourself have him?

“It’s alright,” he looks up at you from your hip and smiles. “Take a nice big breath.”

He can tell—he knows. Just like last time, only last time you told him you were nervous when you were actually terrified. Now it’s just nerves, and you can get yourself through it. You do what he says, and you take a deep breath. Exhale slowly.

“Maybe if you tell me. Why am I making you nervous? And don’t tell me I’m perfect.”

“I’m just…out of practice." It's kind of a lie, but you stick with it. You can't give him the same stupid answers again.

“Me too, maybe we’re a little even”

He moves slowly, lifting your shirt just enough to find more skin to kiss.

“You are? So you’re not…you have had sex?”

His eyes seem to grow twice as big as he looks at you, “no…no I guess I said that wrong. This is my first time.”

“Good to know”

“I’m sorry”

“I’m not”

You feel his fingers hook beneath your shorts, but he doesn’t pull yet, “is this okay?”

They’re off as soon as you lift your hips for him—your heart somehow beats even faster, and the dark of the room presses so hard against your eyes, you feel like you’re blind. But you feel him, so close, not the least bit shy as he moves his lips across more new skin. So close that you think he might close his mouth around your cunt. You want him to because you readied yourself for anything the night might bring, and you’re aching for his touch. Any part of him.

His lips press softly against your clit, and he opens up just enough to lick before continuing upward. You hear his faint giggle when you can’t hold back a moan, and when you peek again, he’s getting out of his sweats and back between your legs. Dick in hand, slow, lazy strokes as he stares down, and his free hand pushes your thighs further apart.

Everything from this point on happens so fast.

Seungmin is there again, kissing, eyes open and watching you, maybe for some sort of protest or hesitation. He’s used to getting stopped now, but you’re not doing that again. You’re well past that point. It’s the furthest thing from your mind.

The heat of his cock is on you, sliding down, and then up across your clit. Seungmin still watches, but lowers himself until his forehead touches yours. And then the pressure of him pushing in sends you further up into the pillow.

“Sorry…sorry” he pulls back and lifts himself up. “I’ll slow down.”

“You’re okay, Min. We might need some extra help.” You’re wet, you can feel it, and you can feel yourself continue to get more and more hungry for him. “Try it from up there.”

He nods and pulls you down by your hips until your thighs lay over his, “do you like this position? On your back?”

“Yeah, it’s a good start…considering”

Seungmin’s sigh is a little dramatic, very cute, and manages to relax you a little. He’s looking down at himself, but his hand is exploring you. His finger slides over your clit and moves down, slowly, feeling how wet you are.

“What’s that sigh for?” You catch his eyes as your legs squeeze him a little, and it seems to get him back in the moment. He’s pressing into you again, and this time, he slides in a little.

“I was afraid…” he stops and waits a few seconds before pushing in further, “we’d have trouble.”

“We’ll be okay”

“Aah…yeah,” his breath hitches as he goes, and he slides in with such ease he has to stop himself.

“Fuck…Minnie”

“Too much?”

“No no it’s good.” Your breathing steadies, and you savor the feeling of him finally inside of you—the stretch, almost too much, but not. The pain dulls a little as he pulls out, and all of the slick arousal clinging to him helps him slide back in so smoothly. It’s so much softer, and more mind numbingly good than you thought it would be. “Didn’t need extra help”

Seungmin’s face relaxes, but his eyes look down at you like they’ve never looked at you before.

“Is it good, Minnie?”

No, he has looked at you like this before—when you pulled away from your first kiss. It feels the same. Warm and comfortable. In, then out, and in so slowly you know it has to be driving him crazy. Still, he’s quiet.

“Tell me”

He nods and comes down on his palms. Finally, his face gives you an answer, and you can reach up to touch his cheek.

“Mm, yes yes,” he nods again, moans, and moves his face against your palm, “you’re so…“ another moan escapes mid-thought, and he’s lost again, but still careful as he pumps in and out of you. Careful for you, or careful for himself, you’re not sure, but it’s good—his speed and depth aren’t hurting you, not yet.

“More,” you take his hips in your hands and guide him in deeper, “faster…a little faster.”

He follows your touch and slowly speeds up, but taking all of him hurts, so you push your palms against his stomach to hold him back.

“Good?” His eyes move along your lips and neck, and he comes down to kiss the skin on your chest he can get to.

The shallow, shaky breaths hitting you as he moves back up makes you think he might be getting close.

“Slow”

“Slow,” he whispers and kisses your ear.

The smooth, delicate roll of his hips as he finds his new pace; the tickle of his lips on your ear; his low, relaxed groan. Everything is perfect. And it’s him—it’s Minnie. Tonight is not a forgettable date you won’t talk to again. It’s not a shitty one night stand you put up with because you needed to come, and you needed to scream his name in your head while you did it. You finally have him in your arms.

“Hey, look at me”

He’s busy kissing along your jaw, but eventually, he listens. “Hi, hi…I’m looking.”

“That’s better”

The pace picks up, just enough. This closeness is all that matters for you, and the feeling of him gives you plenty of pleasure—this is all for him, though.

There’s a heady look in his eyes, he licks his lips, his breath stutters. His fingers clench the sheets and his elbow hits the bed as he tries to keep himself steady.

“Good…come for me Minnie.”

Seungmin isn’t being too shy about making noises, thank god. He’s not loud, but you can hear how good he feels, and that’s all you need. But when he comes, you know it. His eyes get glassy and big, his mouth hangs open. The moan trickling out of him rises until it turns into a satisfied cry. His orgasm is intense, and you can feel his cock twitch and pulse as he empties himself inside of you, bites his lip and smiles, and somehow, manages to keep his eyes on yours the entire time.

Then it's quiet. Just out of sync, shakey breaths—yours and his, and the ghostly sound of the music sneaking in from the living room.

“Oh…oh,” he can’t hold back his giddy, post-orgasm giggle.

“Yeah?” you pull him down for a kiss, and hope he does that every time.

“That was fast, I’m sorry”

You have to grab his face to keep his eyes from wandering now, “but how was it?”

Very gently, he brings himself down on top of you. “…you feel so good, so warm and,” tucks his arms around you and holds tight, “perfect.”

The satisfaction in his voice, and the sweet, dizzy way he says it warms you all over, gives you butterflies. It makes you feel stupid and in love. Right now you think you might be able to deal with whatever gets in the way of you and Minnie, including yourself. Especially yourself. You're high on him again, and you don't think you could go without anymore.

“That’s all that matters right now, then.”

─ ⋅⋅ ─

The steady sounds of his breathing make you believe he’s asleep, and he should be. Seungmin said he hasn’t been sleeping very well lately, and now he’s worked hard getting you through this first time, for both of you. You’re still a little taken back by his gentle nature and patience, but that’s probably because most of the men you sleep with are nothing like that—not even close.

Seungmin didn’t like the idea of you not coming, but you eventually got him to relax, and now you’re here. And he’s fast asleep. And everything feels okay for the moment.

You lie down and face him; admire him again. This is the first time you’ve been able to really look at his face with no interruption—no food being stuffed in his mouth, no talking a mile an hour. This time you’re completely sober, and wide awake. His hair is still a little damp from sweat and clinging to his brow, lips are soft and pouty, cheeks are so round, and you long to run a finger across them, but you don’t want to wake him.

And very slowly, his eyes flutter open. He stares at you for a long moment while his lips turn up into a smile. “Hi.”

You suspect he wasn’t sleeping at all.

“Go back to sleep.” Now you take the opportunity to run your thumb across his cheek, then his chin, and you can feel the faintest scratch of stubble.

“I felt you staring at me”

“Sorry”

In place of a reply, you get a kiss.

“It’s hard not to look at you”

Seungmin shakes his head and wrinkles his nose, “no, I’m a sweaty mess right now.”

“I like your little afterglow.”

“I have an afterglow?”

Yes, ruddy cheeks and a smile that he can’t put down, eyes bigger and darker than usual, “you do.” And there’s the shape of his naked body underneath your sheet. The stretch of his shoulder blades, the delicate dip of his lower back rises just slightly over a tiny curve of ass. Not much, but enough to grab. He notices your eyes taking in every inch of him, and when you clench the sheet to pull, Seungmin suddenly gets very shy.

"Heeey," he giggles, but rolls until it wraps around him. Now he's trapped in there. "It feels different when you're not blinded by the...horniness." Seungmin sets his head back down on the pillow and looks at you.

"I understand. You were probably running off half of your blood supply with that erection."

"I’m not that big!" His face is shoved into the pillow, so it's just a mumble, but you understand what he says. "I mean, you were okay, right?" One eye peeks out.

You nod at him, because you're not going to tell him right now that he's going to take some getting used to.

"That's why I ran off to the bathroom earlier."

"Checking your size?"

"No!" He pushes himself up on his elbows, and his stupid grin and narrowed eyes are so animated and distinctly him. His laugh is enough to recharge you. "I was nervous. I just went in there to calm myself, and see what was going on...down there, I guess. It doesn't always cooperate when I want it to."

"I see. I'm glad everything worked tonight. I'm pretty sure it's worked everytime you've come over, though."

"Oh, you noticed?"

"Yeah yeah, it was really hard to stop at your thigh the first night you came over. But you can't hide that."

“That doesn’t usually happen, but, ya know…”

“Was I really your first?”

He nods, but thinks for a few moments. There’s nothing he needs to explain to you—it doesn’t matter that much—but you are interested in anything he has to tell you about himself.

“Going that far? Yes. I’ve had a few other encounters that didn’t go anywhere, or if they did they were kind of awkward. But this was not like that.”

“Good”

His eyes very obviously look you up and down, and he stops right at your core. “So can we keep going?”

“What would you like to do, Minnie?”

“I just wanna touch you, make you feel good.” Seungmin doesn’t wait for an answer before he moves close and wraps an arm around you. “Can I do that?”

The soft squeeze of his hand on your hip gets you going again—a warm throb in your stomach, your clit. “Yes, please.” Between your legs is still the mess the two of you made. You can feel his come dripping out of you, and when his finger slides down and gently pushes into your entrance, you feel yourself gush even more. Seungmin groans and sucks at the skin of your neck, then his thumb pushes up and slides right over your clit.

“Did I get it?” he asks when you whine in his ear, laughs. He does it again; rubs in soft little circles; pushes in and out, finding a good spot with his nimble fingers. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like—”

Seungmin looks at you so sharply. He needs to know exactly what you want, and he doesn’t need much direction, but you still slide your hand down and place it over his.

“I like you touching me”

He pulls out and slides two wet fingers between your folds, so slowly until he gets to your clit again. Your hips jump, and he smiles.

“You like this, right here…” he moves his fingers carefully, watching your face and listening to every little sound you make. “Nice and slow and light,” he sings. Seungmin isn’t asking, he’s just figuring it out as he goes.

It’s cute and it’s sexy; the way he is, and the way he talks to you. The combination is so deadly, and it’s one of the reason why he makes you feel the way he does.

Before everything, even the very first time you met him, you could tell he was special—not just the most beautiful face in a room full of beautiful faces. The way he looked at you, and the way he listened when you spoke. When you’d talk on the phone, go out for lunch, he always found a way to put you first and make you feel like the only person in the world.

“Yeah,” it comes out on your breath, “right there.”

You grip his forearm, but he doesn’t change a thing. Same speed, same pressure. And he adjusts as your hips roll into his hand. You’re going to come fast, too, just like he did. It’s already rising as you look at him, and looking at him is making it so much more. You’re not using a picture on your phone, or the photos pinned to the wall, and you're not listening to the cute voice messages he's left for you in the past—he’s right here, warm breath moving across your face, the sweet, sharp smell of his sweat, and just as you feel like you’re going to explode, his lips are on yours and your moan fills him up.

Your grip moves from his arm to his shoulder, then to his neck as he deepens the kiss. At the same time, a perfect, intense orgasm shakes you. His fingers move until you relax and let your hips fall back on the bed. Only then does he slow down, then stop.

“Seungmin”

You’re out of breath, and he’s still kissing.

“Minnie…Minnie, I need to catch my breath.”

He pulls back, looks at you, “sorry,” then kisses everywhere except your mouth. “How’s your lip?”

The pain in your lip eventually faded, and you forgot about it. It’s back now, throbbing away. “It’s okay…how does it look?”

“It’s a little swollen. More ice should help, I can get you some.”

“No, stay here with me”

“How about a bath, to clean up?” He looks down at the space between your legs. “We made a mess.”

“Only if you join me”

“Okay, I like my baths very hot, though”

“Yeah, me too”

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bouncybongfairy · 6 months

Note

Literally love you, hope you're taking requests! Could you do the bayverse boys with a goth stoner?

Smoke Sesh

TMNT x Fem Goth Stoner Reader

Summary: After ditching class for a smoke break, you're approached by two men with bad intentions. The TMNTs help you escape the alleyway you're cornered in, you guys have a smoke sesh in their van.

Word Count: 1.0k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was second period and the monotone voice of your English teacher was putting everyone to sleep. Even the teacher wasn’t into it, just reading aloud from the book while sitting at her desk. Not even bothering to look up as she did so. You picked up your bag before quietly walking out of the classroom. As long as you were quiet, the teacher didn’t care or notice if anyone left. There were a couple of security guards that you had to pass, you would feed them an excuse about going to the nurse’s office and usually, they bought it. As you walk past the front gates of your school, you pull your black cardigan closer to your body. You didn’t realize it was so cold outside, your nose was becoming sensitive and runny. Stopping in a narrow alleyway between two apartment buildings, you rummage through your bag.

Your older sister woke up late for work this morning and was only able to take a couple of puffs out of the blunt she rolled before leaving. You took advantage of this and hastily threw it in your bag before leaving. Luckily it wasn’t bent or damaged to the point of being unsmokeable. After you finally find the lighter you put it into your blunt and take the first drag. It was like you could feel the weed pushing the anxiety out of your body. The rain was getting heavy but it didn’t bother you one bit. Not only were you being kept dry from a fire escape above you, on colder days, but your make-up also lasted much longer because it wasn’t exposed to extreme heat. You were wearing a long black maxi skirt and a thin long-sleeve, both in black; along with black riot boots. Not being able to resist, you take a couple of pictures.

“I bet those pictures came real nice,” a voice growled from the left of you. You jumped and whipped your body to see who spoke. Feeling your heart drop into your stomach, you slowly start to back up; trying to gain as much space between each other.

“Oh, my dad is actually about to pick me up, I have to go,” you lied as you began to walk away, you were walking backward because you were scared to turn your back to him.

“So soon, I’m sure you can be a little late,” the creep said, starting to charge you. As he did so you turned but were stopped by a truck that broke directly in front of you.

“Get in,” one of the passengers said as the sliding door rolled open. You didn’t even look at who was in the vehicle, you were so desperate to get out of the current situation that you didn’t think twice. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down but it was hard considering the severity of what could have happened. After a few moments and tears, you looked up and realized who was in your company. When you saw the turtles you passed out momentarily. When you came to, one of them was fanning you. You immediately sat up but Donnie asked you to calm down.

“Woah woah, don’t sit up too fast. You had a vasovagal response which means you lost consciousness due to a lack of blood flow to the brain. You are totally okay though and your vitals are normal. Did anything happen in the alleyway that might cause you to need medical attention?” Donnie said, lifting his goggles up so you could see his eyes.

“No, I’m just shaken up a bit,” you said, sitting up on a seat in the back of the van.

“I’m sure, glad everything turned out okay,” Donnie said.

“Yeah because you’re way too hot to die,” Mikey said, plopping down next to you.

“Mike! Sorry, he has impulse control issues,” Raph said as he drove.

“Dude! Don’t say that in front of my new hot, spooky, witch girlfriend,” he whispered, blocking your view of his mouth in an attempt to stop you from seeing what he said.

“Is it okay if I smoke in here,” you asked? The van got quiet, the boys looking around at each other without saying anything.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Leo said.

“I don’t know, she just went through a traumatic thing. If she’s used to smoking then maybe she needs it to help her calm down, you know?” Mikey said.

“What about contact high?” Raph asked.

“Technically the effects would not be significant unless she was blowing the smoke directly in your face or the car filled with a dense enough smoke,” Donnie explained.

“So is that a yes?” you asked, putting the blunt into your mouth and waiting for a response before lighting it.

After nobody disagreed you lit it again and took a drag, you laughed when you noticed that they were all looking at you. They looked away for a second but it didn’t take long before all their eyes were on you again. At this point Raph parked the van and opened the windows. You were making subtle conversation, asking them if they ever smoked before. As expected, they all haven’t and were surprised when you offered them the blunt. Mikey went to grab it without hesitation and Leo stopped him. After a little persuasion, Mikey grabbed it and took a drag. The blunt in your hand was still pretty big but in his hand it looked like a tiny little twig. He immediately started coughing which made his brothers look around in a worried way. The effects were immediate and he started laughing and joking more than usual if that’s possible. This hummored his brothers, lightening the mood of the situation.

“I just want to thank you guys again for saving me from that situation,” you said again, putting out the roach.

“No worries girl, I'd always be there for my goth girlfriend,” Mikey said, wrapping his arm around you.

“I appreciated that,” you joked back, giving him a kiss on his cheek; leaving a black lipstick mark.

#fanfic request #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt x reader #tmnt request #short fanfic #bayverse tmnt

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saltymongoose · 1 year

Note

Hi coming in with another silly idea Imagine that the Player is in early Nevada, and around the time Nexus is supposed to fall they fall into a type of coma. Jeb goes through with his plan (painfully without the player by his side), Hofnarr turns into Tricky with his last thoughts begging for the Player to come back. Phobos' fight being much more easy due to the fact he thinks his god abandoned him. Then the Player comes back like "hey sorry about that" and Jeb starts wailing while Tricky goes YIPPEE and runs around them like an excited dog.

Why is everything you draw so cute omg 😭, everyone is so adorable here. It's honestly a little weird to see the Employers look so huggable, I love it.

To actually get into the scenario though, my thoughts on this are far too long to make it into a normal ask response, so you're getting some sort of unofficial hcs instead lol. Enjoy!

<The Player Falls into a Coma before the Fall> ft. Jebus, Hofnarr/Tricky, the Employers & Phobos

(TW: Yandere)

There was no warning for your sudden coma whatsoever. At most, you felt a tad more exhausted than usual at the end of the day, but this can be attributed to many different things, so of course you wouldn't worry about it. Neither would anyone else either, for that matter.

You had absolutely no idea that when you slowly fell asleep that night, you wouldn't be waking up again for a very long time.

It certainly wouldn’t take long for those you know to find out about your condition either. For one, Hofnarr and Jeb would want to recap their plan with you before going through with it, so naturally they stopped by for that. However, they find you unconscious and completely unresponsive to their every attempt to wake you. To make matters worse, there isn't a sign that you'd been awake at all in the past few days; the buildup of dust on your furniture and the letters in your mailbox shows as much.

Despite their worry, they’d eventually have to leave your side, if only to get more medical supplies and other things to help you. This opens up a window for the others in your life to finally take action, those being the Employers.

The shadowy figures had been keeping tabs on you all the time, so when you just didn't wake up, they would probably be the first to know - even if their actions came second to the Nexus Scientist's.

(You didn’t send the Deliberator a “good morning” text and he started panicking. What could possibly be so bad that you didn't speak to him? A cursory call to the worried AAHW agents the Auditor had sent to tail you was proof enough that you'd deviated from your usual schedule, and you weren't the type to ever be late.)

They were quick to take you from your home and to a more secret place, so that they could keep close observation over you.

Honestly, despite how much the Employers might brag about knowing you better than anyone else (a privilege they gained from being the first to realize your existence), they truly know little about your anatomy. However, they can tell that sleeping for full days isn't normal at all, judging by your previous behavior.

They're also far too stubborn to ask any other mortals for help as well, so they simply resigned to try to help you themselves while keeping you safe with them. They couldn't do much else, so hopefully you'd understand that once you awoke in a strange place.

Nevada rots without your guidance and the grunts you were close to were left reeling by this (unintentional) abandonment you committed.

Phobos loses much of his drive due to his own emotional frailty as he grappled with his uncharacteristic self-doubt and questioning. As it happens, this also makes him more zealous as well. In his last moments, he has a second wind, believing that if he just fights hard enough, you might decide to come back and help him in his battle against Christoff. (But you don't. You couldn't.)

Jebus' feelings are surprisingly parallel to the Director's in terms of worship and near zealotry. Except, he believes it might be his fault that you left, which only increases the fervor he has to complete his plans. It will be painful without you there, but this agony is his repentance for the sins which he has wronged you with. It is only through this that he believes you might show your presence once more, even if it’s not now.

Unfortunately, Hofnarr's transformation into Tricky was just as painful as it would be otherwise, and the pain of abandonment just makes it worse. Funny, how the pictures taken of you with him and Christoff were miraculously unscathed within Hofnarr's lab even after Tricky came to be. The zombified clown must have found some value in them, even if he couldn’t remember the complete reason why he felt so warm when he looked at them.

Of course, you did actually awaken eventually. You had no idea how much time had passed when you woke up, so seeing the Employers look so uncharacteristically worried when you woke up was really odd. You honestly think they’d be weepy if they had the ability to cry.

You really didn’t know how to react to the news that you’d essentially been in a coma for thirty years. Your first course of action is to find Jeb and Tricky to find out what actually happened since you feared your early appearance might’ve had an impact on the timeline regarding Nevada’s fall. This leads to very different reactions.

Jeb isn't one to typically show much vulnerability, but seeing you again completely shatters those walls he's kept up for so long. At first, he thinks you're just a hallucination; the culmination of all the longing he has for you finally taking its toll on his broken mind as almost a cruel joke.

The first words he speaks to you after thirty years is a short, "You're not real", said as more of an insistence to himself than anything. But when he comes closer and you don’t disappear, and he reaches out a trembling hand to rest lightly on your shoulder, and you stay, he just breaks. The warmth of your form washes over him like it used to, and suddenly he feels an uncomfortable tightness well up in his throat as tears gather in his eyes.

You reach up to hold his taller form closer to you, sinking to the ground with him as he buries his face into your neck and sobs. His hold on you is soft, and his hands are still shaky; he's holding you like he's scared of shattering you, and he only gets weaker when you whisper soothing words and apologies to him.

Compared to Jebus, your meeting with Tricky was a lot more upbeat. It’s probably because he was spared much of the reflection and sorrow that Jeb went through due to his rather unstable mental state, but that didn’t stop him from somehow recognizing you. It’s almost like a switch flipped in his mind, and he went from violently slamming his sign into some poor grunt's face to freezing at the sight of your face.

He then tosses the sign away and almost launches himself at you to envelop you in a tight bear hug, screaming excitedly while you grin back rather tiredly. (You hope your eardrums will be okay after this.) But in the next second, he's whirling away from you, flailing his hands as he continues to talk.

It’s like being greeted by your dog after being away for months; he never stops moving or asking hurried questions about where you’ve been, intermittent with little words about how much he’s missed you.

Both Jeb and Tricky are very clingy after this. Even if they don't get along now, they're not willing to let you leave their sides after this, especially not when you go to sleep. (What if you fall into a coma again? Someone has to be there to take care of you.)

Deep down, they also have a striking suspicion that someone was behind your coma. They didn't know who exactly, but there was no other explanation to them than this. How else would you, Nevada's most powerful being, fall into such a state?

(In the near future, when you come across Hank and the others, let's just say that your scientists won't be deterred from leaving your side quite so easily. You'd been gone for thirty years, so you should only expect their companionship to remain more permanent for the coming years.)

#the Player looks very tired which is a vibe #idk what this answer is exactly but I hope it's satisfactory lol #ask #distressedwalnut #mutuals ✨#other's art #fav #it's about gd time #tw: yandere #madness combat x reader

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storiesofsvu · 9 months

Text

Solace In Solitude Ch 4

Warnings: language, medical talk, mentions of trauma/Lauren episode. Medical injury, panic attacks/generalized anxiety. Very likely inaccurate information about DWB and medical procedures. I'm literally making things up as I go along. don't come for me. Also note that this is one of those chapters where it's little events over the passage of time so the ** means that it's a new day/few more days later kinda thing. Apologies for taking so much time between chapters on this and posting in general, being out of town really threw my entire week and vibe off and I hate it. Hopefully this will kick start me back to where I want to be lol

Emily was honestly surprised when she didn’t see you at all over the next two days, she heard your name a couple of times but nothing about you being in the hospital. She found that without you around she felt a little more obligated to actually do what you’d asked, as if she was a school kid doing extra credit on spring break, that if she had done it by the time you’d gotten back she’d get a gold star. When it felt like you were breathing over her shoulder it just made her less motivated, as if she was about to do it and then you’d ask about it and she’d immediately shut down and wasn’t going to do it any longer. She was doing it for herself, not for you.

She was whisked away one afternoon for a quick procedure, another doctor redoing the irritated stitches on her back and she was reminded once again to start being a little more active. Somehow she took that advice a little closer to heart, making it to the nurses station and back twice during the rest of the afternoon. Now that she was moving around a bit more her appetite was increased, each meal finished almost in its entirety and the nurses praised her level of hydration. She still didn’t like her required walks, she found there were too many people around, too many doctors watching out of the corner of their eyes, nurses badgering her if she needed anything or wanted to check out PT, families there to visit others who just stared. After one of her first walks she retreated back to her room and refused to get out of the bed the rest of the day.

It was later that night that she found just how empty the hospital got after dark. Hallways basically cleared, the rooms quiet, lights dimmed, windows that she could actually see the stars through. Emily actually started to enjoy those walks, something about them was calming, knowing that this time was hers only, that the city was asleep, she felt safe. She didn’t feel ashamed about how slow she was moving, how many breaks she had to take or something trivial like how bad her hair looked when she walked at night with no one to witness. Going to PT could still eat a bag of dicks though.

She was honestly starting to think that the little outburst between the two of you had been enough to make you throw in the towel, and she didn’t blame you either. She’d been incredibly stubborn, she always was and her realizing this wasn’t about to make her stop, she just wouldn’t judge you for giving up on her. She was used to it by now, it wasn’t like you were the only one who had done so.

She’d spent a good chunk of the night wandering through the hospital, taking breaks whenever she needed, she found a particularly nice windowsill up on the fourth floor and made a mental note to bring a book with her the next night. She just felt more alive at night, the darkness hid everything, hid her past, her secrets, her shame and guilt about everything that had happened. It was only when the building began to come alive that she let out a huff, returning to her room, surprising herself when she fell asleep instantly.

By the time Emily woke up it was nearing noon, sun streaming in through the open blinds, warming the room from the cool spring morning. She shifted slightly in the bed, stretching out a couple of tense muscles as she blinked her eyes open, glancing around the room. It was no surprise that her breakfast was left on the rolling table, ready and waiting for whenever she was awake, this had been a daily occurrence. It was just more often than not that she woke up when they did morning rounds, she was assuming her night crawling of the hospital had her conked out heavier than normal. She rolled her head to the other direction to look out the window when her brows furrowed at the sight of you on the small couch in the corner. You had what looked like a textbook in your lap, a pile of charts on one side and a notebook on the other, pen in your hand, highlighter in the top pocket of your scrubs. At first she was surprised you hadn’t jumped to attention the moment she moved and then she noticed your earphones. She pushed herself up to sitting but even that movement didn’t catch your eye, so she picked up an empty paper cup from the side table, crumpling it up and hucking it in your direction. You jumped, glancing up as you pulled out one earphone and then the other.

“Seriously? We’re resorting to throwing things at one another now?”

“Why are you in my room?”

“It’s quieter than the nurses station.” You shrugged, going back to the book, “I was in here a lot while you were still comatose. It’s easier to focus when you can actually hear your brain.” You mumbled, letting out a little sigh, flipping a page.

Emily didn’t say anything in return, not that you were expecting much. Instead she studied you, the profiler gears in her brain beginning to turn once again. You looked about as tired as she felt, but it wasn’t slow blinks or bags under your eyes, it was the dejection wafting off you, the way your shoulders hunched forward and you were curled around yourself like you were admitting defeat, like you were trying to comfort yourself. She could tell that your eyes were scanning the text but you weren’t absorbing anything, maybe it was because now she was awake and you were aware of her watching you but she was pretty sure that wasn’t it. There was something eating at you, something that was pulling you away from swiping traumas and surgeries from down in the ER for a more isolated day in the one place where no one would want to come looking for you.

“What’s with you today?” She suddenly asked, almost kicking herself instantly at the way she worded the question. Sure, she didn’t really care but she could’ve been a little more civil, if she pissed you off you did have the authority to prod at her with needles.

“Hmm?” You hadn’t even glanced up from the book.

“You seem…off.”

This time you let out another tired sigh, flipping the book shut and tossing it off to the side, “it’s my younger sister’s thirtieth today. We always do a girl’s trip for her birthday and considering it’s a milestone year we were supposed to be doing a big one.”

“What’s stopping you?” She asked, her brow scrunching as she reached out to her breakfast and you vaguely gestured around the room. “You use up all your vacation days already?”

“No.” You practically snorted, “but I can’t exactly take enough time off.”

“Then have her fly out here?” Emily suggested and your eyes narrowed in her direction, wondering why she was technically trying to help you out right now.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy you know.” You pulled her chart from the pile beside you, “besides, my family thinks I’m in Haiti.” Your eyes were skimming through the updates in her chart as she studied you for a moment longer.

“Why?”

“It was where I did my longest posting for Doctors Without Borders, I liked it the best and it was the one I was the busiest and most unreachable. It was the most believable cover so any friends and family wouldn’t wonder why I seemed to disappear off the face of the earth.”

“Oh…” She paused for a moment, picking apart the pastry in front of her, slowly chewing on a couple of pieces, “I didn’t realize Borders had a program here.”

“They don’t.” You replied dryly, not looking up, “at least not in the city. There’s a couple of programs out in the suburbs, lots of work helping refugees.”

“Is that where you were the last couple of days?” She asked and the pen in your hand stalled and you finally looked up at her.

“What?”

“You haven’t been around for a bit,” she shrugged, popping another bite of food into her mouth.

“I’m not with Borders right now. The US government is paying my salary, when I said I was from Boston I meant that’s where I live, it’s where I had a very comfortable job that I loved and had just started doing research for a clinical trial so I could get a grant for it. Then I essentially signed a verbal NDA saying I wouldn’t tell anyone where I was or what I was doing for your safety and I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” You flipped the chart closed, standing from the couch, “so how about you cooperate for once and lean forward so I can check those new stitches.”

Emily felt a twinge of guilt creep through her at your admission, dropping the pastry back onto her plate so she could shift upwards and you could do what you needed to. She’d been so wrapped up in her own situation she’d just figured you’d either volunteered or were on a separate contract or something. She was slowly realizing that maybe you’d been thrown into this new life as much as she had.

You pulled on a pair of gloves, lifting up her shirt so you could examine the newly done work, gently touching a couple of them, “looks good. Plastics knows what they’re doing.” You let out a sigh, dropping her shirt back down, “I’m glad your appetite’s back, and clearly you’ve been moving around a bit more.”

“Guess you could say I got a little antsy staying in bed all the time.”

“Good.” Crossing back to the couch you started to pick up all your things, “now get your ass down to PT, I’m booking it for you on Wednesday.”

“Oh come on!” Emily groaned, slipping right back into the dynamic of her being insanely frustrated with this place, you, herself, “I was up walking the entire floor the last couple of days, isn’t that enough?”

“No.” You stated blankly, turning back to her from the door, “you’ve got muscles in your abdomen that need restrengthening. Not to mention your mobility, you’ll go to do something you’ve always been able to do and find that you can’t do it now or it’s gonna hurt like hell. You need to be cleared for at home PT before you get discharged.” You pulled the door open, “and for the sake of both of us, you want to get discharged. Go to PT.”

Emily grumbled, dropping back down onto the bed as you swung the door shut behind you.

This was bullshit.

She was a trained FBI agent who passed all her physical and fitness tests with flying colours, she didn’t need PT. She was fine.

This loop around the hospital got Emily down to the cafeteria, happily picking up a side of fries to take back to her room, a little treat, a reward considering she got herself up and moving today. She was eating them while flipping through a magazine when you slipped into the room and she noticed the way you spotted the smuggled in food, a frown taking over her face.

“Take the fries away and I’ll be on my worst behaviour.” She warned, actually earning a chuckle from you.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You replied, moving through the room to check on her vitals, “plus that means you made it all the way down to the caf, that’s a decent walk.”

“Hmph.” As usual, she shut down as soon as you managed to weasel your way a quarter inch through the door. You let out a soft sigh, scribbling down a couple of updates into her chart.

“Do you not want to get out of here or something?” You asked and it was Emily’s turn to sigh, chewing on her lip for a moment while she thought before looking up at you with a trace of worry etched into her features.

“What exactly happens when I do get out of here?”

“There’s an apartment set up.” You replied, “I’ll take you there, make sure you’re settling in. I’ve got other paperwork for you, passport, ID’s, bank account to keep you comfortable. They left me with a burner phone, said they’d call if there was ever a major update.” Emily let out a low breath, her eyes flitting between you, the window and then the door as a tightness wound its way into her chest. Your brow furrowed, perching on the edge of the bed, your hand gently squeezing at her leg through the blanket, “hey… what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She shook it off, avoiding your gaze, “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You can lie to me all you want but the monitors you’re hooked up to can’t. So when your heart rate spikes like that, as your doctor, it’s my job to worry.”

Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest, sinking back into the bed as she tried to retrain her body to not show the signs of stress no matter how much she was feeling it. However this time things were different, she really was vulnerable, she didn’t have her gun, her team, the strength to pull herself out of another hole. She took a heavy breath, her eyes closing for a moment before she finally dropped the mask. It had been long enough now, her mind was clear of all the fogginess that had came with the coma, with the higher level of pain meds, she’d been able to piece things together over the past couple of weeks and she knew the truth before she even asked, her voice wavering when she finally spoke.

“They didn’t catch him, did they? I mean… that’s why we’re here isn’t it?”

“I… don’t know.” You shrugged, “I’m sorry. But considering all the secretiveness, the hiding, I’d assume that whoever did that to you is still out there.” Pausing for a moment you watched the way she appeared to shrink even further into the bed, “was… what happened… a work related thing, or personal? Like are we talking about a jealous ex or a sadistic serial killer?”

Your words almost made Emily laugh at the irony of your question and she wasn’t even sure she could explain the situation to herself right now. Instead she slipped the mask back on, rolling onto her side to face the window, her mumble barely heard, “it’s a long story.”

The stars had been so bright through the hospital windows Emily felt incredibly drawn to them, the temptation of breathing fresh air for the first time in months too strong for her to resist. Head tilted up to the night sky, eyes shut as the breeze whipped around her she finally felt like she was free. You were nowhere to be found, the beeping and whirring of machines no longer attacking her senses, she couldn’t feel nurses hands constantly prodding at her body, she was the one in control. The city was strangely quiet, or maybe it was just that she was used to DC, that she’d forgotten what the European streets sounded like after dark, maybe she really could get used to this. She could smell rain in the air, heavy clouds hanging in the sky before a droplet hit her cheek. A smile split her lips as her eyes opened, fingers raising to wipe away the drop though her head tilted in confusion when they came away from her cheek coated in crimson. Another drop came barreling down from the sky and landed in front of her feet, when it hit the pavement it exploded into a pool of blood, trickling its way into the cracks of the sidewalk, sputtering in time with the beating of her heart.

“Hello Emily.” She could hear his voice clear as day, feel his breath on the back of her neck, his hands closing in around her waist, squeezing a little too tight on the side of her injury, his fingers digging into the stitches and she winced. “Or what is it that they’re calling you nowadays? Did you decide to stick with Lauren? I always thought it suited you so beautifully.”

She tried to shove away from him but when she turned around he was nowhere to be seen, only his dark laugh echoing through the air. The air seemed to be turning darker, stars vanishing from the sky, the rain had picked up, coating the streets in maroon and her vision began to tunnel. She whipped around again at Ian’s laugh, eyes darting around the buildings, her breath catching in her throat when she couldn’t see the hospital anymore.

“I found you once, you know I’ll be able to find you again.” Ian jeered, and she let out a groan as his fingers scratched across the brand on her chest, “I marked you. You’ll always belong to me. But you knew that, didn’t you? You’re just waiting for me to come get you, take back what’s rightfully mine.”

Emily gasped at the feeling of cold metal at the back of her neck, digging into her skin as he pressed the gun hard against the base of her skull. She could feel the heat of his body right up against hers,

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to make any mistakes this time. I’m not going to leave you for dead. I’m not walking away until I see your brains splattered on the ground.”

Her eyes squeezed tightly shut in an attempt to hold back her tears as he cocked the gun and the jolt that shocked through her made her gasp out loud, she struggled to breathe for only a moment before her eyes flew open.

Emily was shaking, covered in a sheen of sweat as she bolted upright in her bed, her hand slamming out to turn on the light in her hospital room. Panicked eyes darted around every corner and crevice of the room as her heart hammered in her chest. Gaining the courage to move she checked under the bed, making sure the bathroom was empty before she returned to her bed. She could still hear Ian’s voice running through her brain, her arms breaking out in goosebumps as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, her brain alert yet also foggy, almost dizzy as his words found their way back into her head. He was right, the longer she stayed here, the more of a sitting duck she was.

She had to get out of here.

Now.

She hopped off the bed, thankful that she was still in a set of the comfortable clothes you’d brought in for her. Rushing around the room she yanked her phone charger out from the wall, tossing it into the duffel bag while she quickly gathered anything else she might need. It was a flurried frenzy while she debated between slipping out the door or climbing out the window before she remembered she was on the third floor. Taking a deep breath, she unclipped the monitor on her finger, ripped the stickers off her chest and with a heavy wince tugged out her IV, holding a cotton ball to it until she was certain it wasn’t bleeding and wrapping a band aid over it.

She was so wrapped up in her own panic, in the fact that she felt like she was suffocating from the inside out, she tried to shake out of it, she just needed to get out of the four walls of her room and she would feel better, she knew it. They were closing in on her, darkness taking over in the exact same way the city streets had trapped her with Ian. Her eyes were blurring and she didn’t even realize it was because they were filling with tears, her hand clawed at her chest, tugging down the neckline of her shirt so it wasn’t constricting around her neck so much. She jumped, a quiet yelp escaping her lips when there was a flash of lightning outside the window and she was certain for a moment that Ian was in the room with her. She bent over, zipping the duffel bag up and wrenched it onto her shoulder and this yelp was much louder than the last. There was a searing pain in her side and she could feel something wet on her stomach, she couldn’t even get the bag off the ground and she was stumbling backwards before she even knew it.

“Whoa!” A voice called out and she jerked away from the set of hands that were gently wrapping around her waist, certain that they were Ian’s.

“Get off!” She managed out, her voice raw as she pushed away a little too hard, teetering back into the bed.

“Hey, hey…” your voice was calmer this time, “Valerie, it’s me, alright. It’s Doctor Carter, I’m not gonna hurt you, but I do need you to get back in bed. Valerie? Valerie, look at me.” Your hands gently closed around her wrists, pulling them away from her face and you realized just how wild her eyes were, that whatever kind of nightmare she’d been having she was still partially trapped in, “Valerie…”

“It’s Lauren!” She snapped and suddenly her body stilled as she gasped out a breath, muscles relaxing when she came back to earth and realized what she’d said. Her hand flew to her mouth and she tried to hold back the cries that were fighting their way out.

“Hey… you’re okay.” You assured her, squeezing softly at her hands, “but it looks like you blew a stitch or two. How about you lie back and we get that taken care of, okay?”

She nodded softly, shifting backwards onto the bed with a wince as you turned around to grab a suture kit and pull on a pair of gloves.

Sun was peeking in through the semi shut blinds when Emily let out a groan, blinking open her eyes before she swallowed, her mouth incredibly dry.

“I feel like I just woke up from the dead.” She muttered.

“A nice drug cocktail will do that.” You returned with a yawn and she nearly jumped, her eyes flying to the couch in the corner where you were curled up with a book, finishing the page before you looked up at her, “you feeling better than last night?”

“I.. guess?”

“What happened in the nightmare?” You asked and she scoffed.

“There was no nightmare.”

“Yeah, right. It was the middle of the night and you were trying to make a run for it in the midst of a panic attack.” You closed the book on your lap, a concerned expression on your face, “listen. I know that you don’t like me and that is completely acceptable, but you do need to get whatever’s on your mind out. I may not be a shrink but you’ve made a very good point that you can’t talk to one, so talk to me. The more I know, the more I can do to help you, including getting you on the proper combination of meds to make sure you’re not having anymore nightmares like that.”

Emily hated that you were right, letting out a frustrated sigh as she slowly sat up to pour herself a glass of water, taking a few sips to counteract the dry mouth from whatever you’d given her last night to calm her down. She felt the fear creeping its way through her veins, letting out a little shiver and tugging JJ’s sweater tighter around her body.

“He’s still out there.” She started, her voice barely above a whisper, “and he wants me dead.”

“As far as he’s concerned… you are dead.” You assured gently, “that’s why we’re here, remember? To keep you safe. I know it sucks, and who knows how long we’ll be here but it’s keeping you alive, okay?”

“I just…” she huffed, struggling to find the words as tears blurred into her eyes and she dropped her hands down to her lap with a defeated sniffle, “I can’t lift my arm above my head. If he tracks me down how am I supposed to put up a fight if I can’t even pick up a fucking duffle bag? I know it was stupid to try and run off like that, I was freaked out and wasn’t thinking straight. It just feels like the longer I’m trapped here….”

“That you’re actually trapped.” You finished for her and she glanced toward you, nodding gently.

“Yeah.” She replied, trying to wipe away a tear before you’d noticed it rolling over her cheek. You sunk back into the couch, honestly shocked to see her this vulnerable with her guard down this far. You weren’t sure if she finally trusted you or if she was just too tired to put up with it anymore but you figured now was the time to push your luck.

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure.” She reached out for her water, staring into the cup as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Who’s Lauren?”

“An old undercover alter ego.” She admitted, “the one that he fell in love with. The one who ultimately ended up betraying him and sending him to prison. He escaped, wanted revenge and was willing to take out my entire team along the way. So I took the fight to him instead.”

“Ballsy.”

“Stupid.” She scoffed, risking a look up at you as her fingers came to the swell of her chest, gingerly scratching through the fabric, “doesn’t matter if he never finds me I’m marked as his now.” Your head tilted and your brows furrowed as you looked at her, “what?”

“I knew the mark was new, I didn’t realize it wasn’t consensual.” You replied and she scoffed again, this time accompanied with an eye roll.

“Tattoos are more my style.”

“I know brands can’t really fully be removed, but it’s not my specialty, I can send plastics up for a consult?” You offered, finally shifting from the couch, stretching out your stiff body, “the scar tissue doesn’t look that bad, might have to do another skin graft but I’m sure there’s something they can figure out.”

“Uh… yeah, sure. Thanks.” A tight smile flashed briefly across her lips and you returned one to her as you approached the bed, “god you look like shit.”

“There she is.” You muttered with a sigh, “I didn’t want to go home and leave you on your own after that.” You checked how long ago you’d administered the meds, eyes flicking to the monitors to add a couple of notes in her chart. “I want to get you started on some daily anti anxiety meds and probably some sleeping pills too, if you’re having nightmares like that sometimes it’s better not to dream at all.”

“Yeah.” She ducked her gaze, her water cup suddenly very interesting as you replaced her chart and began to move to the door, “Dr. Carter?” She suddenly called out and you spun back to her with a brow raised, surprised she even remembered your name, much less used it.

“Yeah?”

“I need… to be able to take care of myself.” She felt heat creeping into her cheeks as she risked a glance up at you, “I can’t do that if I can’t lift a bag.” A small grin spread across your lips as she spoke, “is there an opening for PT today?”

“I’ll call down to find out.” You replied, pulling the door open, “make sure you get on the list asap.”

“Thanks.”

_____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @swimmingstudentchaos891

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #solace in solitude #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic

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atlasxspeaks · 10 months

Text

“Do you hate me or something!” Spider has never been for frustrated in his life than right now, staring up the worst foster sibling he had ever know. Ao’nung wasn’t just a jerk who barged into his room at random hours or who hogged the bathroom for so long in the morning only to joke that they could share the shower when Spider bangs on the door. He’s a jerk who can’t stand to see Spider happy.

“You decked Lo’ak for no goddamn reason!” Spider is too angry to realize that shoving Ao’nung, whose a fuller foot taller than him, will do nothing. The boy takes the hit, though, before grabbing him by his wrists.

“He’s my only fucking friend and now he barley want to hang out because of you. Why do you always do this!” In a ten months Spider had been in Awa’ulta, he’d made a few close friends, all of which ran away or distance themselves once Ao’nung got a glimpse of them. Roxto and Tsireya were the only people he can even hang out with without Ao’nung poking fun at them and causing a fight.

The Sully kids were new and needed friends just like him, and they were kinda weird just like him. He likes Kiri, Lo’ak, and Neteyam. Even Tuk was fun to be around. And they didn’t care about his oxygen tank or the fact that he never wears short sleeves regardless of how hot it gets. And now Ao’nung had gone and fucked it by picking on Lo’ak for his vitiligo.

“Say something! Do you hate me?”

“Not at all. I’m actually quite in love with you, really.”

Of all the fucking things he could have said, that was not one of them. Spider blinks for a second, stunned into silence. That is before stomping down hard on the other boy’s foot.

“ARGH!” Ao’nung is now on the ground, holding his foot and Spider can’t bring himself to be sympathetic.

“What the fuck Spider!!”

“If you fucking love me, leave my friends alone and act like a normal person. I’m not your property! I can have friend and still be whatever it is you want me to be to you.”

Spider isn’t 100% certain Ao’nung actually likes him romantically, but there have been moments between them that make him question it. Like the night he’d had woken Spider as an Eywa-less hour to see a meteor shower, something Spider had wanted to see after years old living in smog-filled cities. They’d stayed on the roof for hours after just talking, and there was a moment when their faces were so close that he noticed the green flakes in Ao’nung’s blue eyes. Regardless, if Ao’nung wanted him, he’d have to learn to get over himself.

“I think you broke my foot man,” Ao’nung groans.

“Be glad I’m not wearing my boots. Now, you’re gonna apologize to Lo’ak, and you’re going to mean it,” Spider kneels down on the ground next to Ao’nung and prods at his foot. Living with Ronal and Tsireya had increased his medical knowledge tenfold so he could already tell while bruised, Ao’nung’s foot was definitely not broken. Spider wasn’t that strong.

“Urgh do I have to?” Spider just pinches his calf in reply and the boy caves. “Argh ok ok!” Ao’nung bats his hand away and then grabs it, interlacing their fingers.

“For you, I’ll apologize and mean it. Lo’ak’s a pretty good guy, I just don’t like how close you both are.”

Spider rolls his eyes skyward and prays to Eywa for strength.

“If you took you head out your ass you’d see that I’m not the person you should be worried about with Lo’ak,” Spider doesn't hold back his smirk at Ao’nung’s startled look.

“Who!?”

“Apologize and I’ll tell you,” Spider teases pulling away from the boy to help him up. Ao’nung, even an opportunist, puts his arm around Spider’s shoulders to lean on while hopping, completely milking his injury. Spider rolls his eyes and lets him have it.

——

Inspired by @nashichiyo All x Miles "Spider" Socorro (Prompt) on AO3.

#spider socorro #ao’nung #avatar way of water

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corazondebeskar-reads · 2 months

Text

live to rise - chapter seven

live to rise series

seven: not worth my soul

series masterlist | prev chapter | final chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: An escape attempt is made.

chapter warnings: CREATOR CHOSE NOT TO USE WARNINGS. This chapter contains many very dark themes. I have omitted them as they are all spoilers. Please see end notes for chapter-specific warnings and/or feel free to DM me.

Sorry this is late; life found a way to get in the way. This is the penultimate chapter and thank you all so much for coming along on this journey. I hope you bear with me through this.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You’re not cut out for this. This isn’t a surprise. You’ve never had the stomach for danger.

Having to stand still and calm and like nothing at all is making your heart race, nothing is brewing a storm in your stomach, nothing is wrong? Like you aren’t facing near-certain death in a matter of hours?

Your feet are stuck on the metal floor of the sponsor box and it’s not from the sun melting them there. You can’t even bring yourself to face Shand, stuck solidly in place staring out over the arena like you’ll fall apart if you move.

And there are still two hours until he fights, let alone what comes later tonight.

You’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, thankful again for the light linen blouse and skirts. The circulators billow them with cold air for the sponsor’s comfort but you can’t seem to keep your brow dry.

You’re the weak link and Shand knows it. Luckily, Gideon didn’t seem to register that at your report this morning.

Probably because you had thrown up on his floor before you could say anything and he sent you away, thank the stars.

When it comes time for Din to fight, the dizziness is creeping in. The normal nerves of a battle are incompatible with this newer, stronger terror. You’re practically shaking.

No one notices, though. Not when all eyes are on the Mandalorian as his opponent’s ax settles in the meat of his shoulder.

You think maybe your body betrayed you, that maybe you made a sound. The dryness of your throat was the only saving grace.

Despite the way that everything in you has gone cold, hot tears burn in the corners of your eyes. You squeeze them shut. After all, you had promised. He had pushed and pushed until you promised not to watch.

If there’s any mercy in the universe, you think, this won’t be the end. It can’t be.

It isn’t.

Shand’s hand smacks against your arm and you realize she’s been speaking. You’re hurt that she hit you for only a moment.

“It’s over. He won. Go,” she snaps once she has your attention.

You run.

He doesn’t come back for a long time. You pace the cell, wringing your hands. He doesn’t usually stay in medical, shouldn’t need to, so this was… bad. You can’t hear with the way your heart is beating overtime, the blood rushing in your ears, the tunnel closing in until most of the room is just static.

Until the doors open.

The guards are gone as soon as it closes behind him, not caring for how pallid he seems or the way his eyes aren’t focusing. They’ve healed him, mostly, though you know the damage must be far worse than their bacta shots can fix. You’re at his side in a second, though your strength isn’t enough to hold him up.

Between the both of you, he stumbles to the bed and you ease him down to sit. He tries to pull you down beside him with his good arm but you’re faster, right now, dodging his grip to move, forcing a canteen in his hand instead of your body.

You’re out of the room before he can take a drink, though you know you shouldn’t. It’s almost too risky but far riskier not to.

So you sneak into the kitchens. You’ve only ever used the passcode before to take the little containers of oil and fat left for you by Jyoti. She trusted you immensely and you were going to break that, now. Going to use her code to enter and take real, actual food.

The guilt only lasts for a moment.

The stars align in your favor—or rather, you think, in Din’s, and you make it back to the cell with your contraband unnoticed. He’s dozing off, slumped against the wall, and your heart stops for just a moment before you see the rise and fall of his chest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he scolds predictably when you rouse him.

“You lost too much blood,” you snap. Doesn’t he understand? Doesn’t he get it yet? Everything is on the line and he’s worried about theft? The list of your crimes is already insurmountable. A handful of Bantha meat and bread and cheese were hardly going to register.

“I’m fine,” he says, slow and placating.

“Don’t start,” you say with a huff.

He puts down the sandwich and pulls you to him by the back of your neck, cupping gently until your foreheads meet.

“I’m okay, kar’talyc. I’ll be okay.”

“You better,” you try to say, but you choke on it. Here, in his arms, both free from immediate danger, you fall into the breakdown that’s been building all day.

“We’re okay,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Nothing’s wrong that can’t be fixed.”

And you have to believe him.

When it happens, it happens so fast.

It has to.

You’re in the lounge. There’s a private room reserved, but for now, the three of you are in the crowd. Shand keeps the both of you close, making sickening conversation with other sponsors and encouraging them to ask Din questions about his armor.

It’s, of course, still mounted on display in the center of the room. There’s no barrier, no shield between it and the true scum of the galaxy that populates the room.

Thank the stars for Gideon’s ego.

He’s not in the lounge tonight. Not yet, anyway. It’s a small mercy.

There’s no signal when it begins. No precise timing, no secret comms. Those were not luxuries afforded tonight.

It just happens.

Shand looks at Din and he moves at once, twisting fluidly to shield you with his body. His chest pressed to your back. His to the explosion.

There’s no chance for the dust to settle. Smoke and ash fill the room in hazy orange.

Din’s hand is on your arm until it isn’t.

Shand is by his side until she isn’t.

You’re frozen on the spot until you aren’t.

You finally move, the invisibility granted by your status letting you slip through the screaming socialites.

Blaster fire pings behind you.

In front, a green Mandalorian reaches Din. He doesn’t reach his armor, so you lunge for it. For the helmet.

It flies from your grasp when the trooper grabs you.

Shand snaps it from the air with a grappling cable, whipping it to Din. There’s another Mando, you think, moving through the smoke. A blue one, going for the armor.

Whoever’s in the green kit is strong enough to wrangle Din, yelling something unintelligible as they make for the new exit carved by detonators. There’ll be speeders there, at the former windows of the private room, and they’ll get him to the ship.

You have to believe that’s true.

It’s too late for you, though.

You don’t even fight it when they drag you away.

There’s no chance against two of Gideon’s dark armored troopers.

You think you hear Din yelling and fighting to get to you, and you pray they have the sense to get him out.

The troopers are not any gentler when you go limp in their arms, the ache of their grasp promising to bruise. You hang there, feet dragging, and find yourself blessedly numb.

What awaits you will be worse than death, you expect. They’re going to extract every bit of information from you before they let you die. But it’s okay.

He’s free. He has his helmet and his people.

His son is alive.

You’ve always been willing to martyr yourself for your residents. At least this last time will make a difference. A man walks free; a child gets to keep his father.

Maybe in another life, you could have loved one another wholly.

Dying for him will have to be enough.

When they lock you in the tiny cell, they toss your body to the ground, and your head cracks against the metal bench. The last thing you remember before you lose consciousness is that maybe you understand Vrar’s choice a little better.

Death is the only freedom you’ll get.

When they come for you again, you’re still unconscious. They remedy that with an acrid-smelling capsule cracked under your nose that yanks you back to the real world.

Once you’re in binders, they drag you through the halls back to the sponsor lounge.

Gideon always did have a knack for the dramatics.

In the wreckage, there’s a slanted platform facing what still remains of Din’s armor. You’re dismayed that they only seem to have retrieved the chest plate and helmet, but even that is better than nothing.

The troopers strap you in and leave you there. You suppose they’re hoping you’ll get upset at the sight.

When Gideon swoops in, cape fluttering, he’s accompanied by an interrogation droid. You’d expected that, at least. Not that you aren’t terrified by the sight.

You don’t intend to fight, though. You know next to nothing—he was always careful not to tell you anything he didn’t want tortured out of you.

They won’t believe you, and they’ll torture you anyway. You know this.

Gideon looks you over silently and then turns sideways so he can see both you and the armor.

“Do you know what this is?” He gestures to a pauldron.

“Beskar armor.” You keep your voice as flat as possible.

“Technically correct, I suppose. I meant this specifically.” He taps two fingers against the mudhorn.

“It’s a shoulder pauldron.”

He backhands you. A gasp escapes you, and tears spring to your eyes.

“The symbol, you stupid girl.”

“Yes,” you give in. “It’s a mudhorn.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“It’s the symbol of his clan.”

“Did he tell you why the symbol of his clan is a mudhorn?”

“No.”

He searches your face but finds no lie. “I’ll tell you a little story, then, about this man you think is so high and mighty.

Once upon a time, he stole something very precious from me. A baby, you see, that was under my protection.”

You almost scoff, and he seems to be waiting for it. When you keep control, he carries on.

“But when he tried to escape with the baby, he couldn’t get past a single measly mudhorn. All that bravado, and he had to rely on a little magic baby for help to defeat a single creature.”

When you fail to react again, he steps closer. Too close, really.

“Some champion. You know he was only the Mand’alor by chance? The saber is mine by rights.”

“He won it from you.” He’s goading you, and you know it, but it works all the same.

His palm connects with your face, and you cry out.

“It’s such a shame. You were so well-behaved, so close to freedom. Yet you risked it all for… for what? For him to leave you behind to pay the price?”

“Wasn’t about me.”

“No? He didn’t, say, kiss you and make sweet promises for a future together? Did you really fall for the oldest trick in the book? A weak-willed, heartsick little girl sacrificing herself for a man incapable of love?”

Wretchedly, his words do tug on something deep in your gut. But it’s okay, you remind yourself. It doesn’t matter.

You don’t, either.

You just wish you had been able to send one more comm to your parents. Oh, stars. You can’t think about your parents. Nausea bubbles up in your throat.

“You know, I admired them once, too. Of course, I was just a foolish little boy, jealous of the armor and the power. Until I learned of their savagery, brute nature, and primitive way of life. And then we had the trooper’s suits, but without the beskar…” His eyes are bright and wild. “Well, I solved that little issue, didn’t I? As the leader of Mandalore, I can do whatever I like with the beskar.”

You still don't respond. You’re trying to tune him out. He thinks this will… what, convince you to share information you don’t have? Endure you to him? No, he just likes the sound of his own voice. Wants to boast and brag since his peers are tired of the same stories.

You’re a captive audience.

Unfortunately, this little performance requires your participation. But when he gets to that portion, his sudden question throws you entirely off.

“Who is the rebel spy?” he asks calmly.

“The rebellion was eliminated,” you say automatically. This was the line coached into your brains, the truth the Empire wanted plastering the beaten down remains of hope.

He scoffs. “Don’t play stupid with me, girl. Who was your contact? Who led this little ‘operation’?” His smooth voice was dripping with condensation.

“I don’t know. I was only here as his attendant,” you recite.

“I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to stay here all day. Luckily, I don’t have to.” His grin is practiced power, a crafted cruelty. “That’s the nice thing about IT-Os, you know? They’ll just keep going, even when you break.”

He steps closer. “Or, you can report to me as is your duty. It can tell me if you’re telling the truth.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“So be it.”

And with a swirl of his cape, he leaves. He actually leaves. Your breath picks up, hitching a little.

The droid whirs as it nears you, the buzz reinforcing the mistake you’ve made.

It shows no mercy.

The IT-O may not have let you faint, but the troopers don’t care. Everything goes dark almost as soon as they have you in arms and you wake up in your cell.

The first thing you notice is that you’re about to vomit.

Unfortunately, you do.

The second thing you notice is the full body agony. As if your muscles have all been stretched beyond limits and you’re left to drown in the ache.

The third thing you notice is the ash.

It covers the ground, some soaking into a pool of your sick, some scattered. Whatever it was is curled into dark fragments, thin and brittle with blackened edges.

You lay limp on the bench, arm dangling over the side. You try not to look at it, at how some of your fingers don’t sit quite right. Looking at them makes your head pound and your vision blur.

Instead, you force your eyes to focus on the charred flimsy. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

The colors don’t make a recognizable shape, too torn and burnt, but the way the colors flow over the paper is…

No.

You can’t move. You can’t see anything else. The thick layer of ash and scraps tells you everything you need to know.

The cell is blanketed in what little is left of all of the fighters’ portraits.

Gideon isn’t there when the troopers bring you back. Just the droid. You can’t even control it, you start struggling, pathetic as it must seem, as they strap you onto the table. You’re hyperventilating as your chest feels like it caves in. You can’t take another day of this.

You can’t.

But you do.

Gideon wanders in around dusk, the setting suns visible through the wreckage. The IT-O stands down from its tortures but stays at your side, monitoring vitals and keeping you awake. The drone of its motor is enough to have you shaking.

“So how many souls did you betray for one man?” Gideon says, brows furrowed as if he actually cares.

You don’t say anything, can’t really.

“I know that’s what your little books were for. I am a man of culture, after all. When I visit planets, I like to learn a little about its people.”

So he had gone. Personally.

He answers your thoughts before you think them. “Don’t worry, your parents are fine. You still have a chance to spare them.”

The IT-O whirs and it’s over. You can’t. You know it. Gideon knows it.

He smiles. “Who was your contact?”

“The sponsor. Shand.”

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“That’s all I know.”

“Confirmed,” says the IT-O.

You nearly faint when it talks. You didn’t know it could. It has a horrible, horrible voice and you know if you live past this day, you’ll hear it in your sleep for the rest of your life.

By now, you’re hoping it won’t be for long.

“By the way,” Gideon says casually. “Those little pictures? One might consider those treason. Those are enemies of the Empire. You really should be thanking me for destroying the evidence. If you give me the name of the Rebel spy, I might even be convinced to forget about them.”

“I don’t know anything about a spy,” you say, voice cracking.

“False,” says the droid and you scream.

“I don’t, I don’t,” you cry, but it’s useless. You knew that Gideon and Din suspected there was a spy. It was enough to condemn you.

“So be it,” is all he says before the troopers take you away.

When they come for you again, it’s not the lounge they bring you to.

It’s the arena.

When you realize where you’re headed, having walked these halls enough that it’s ingrained in your core, you almost cry. It’ll be quick this way, you’re sure of it. Whoever you face will be desperate to win, and you, well.

You won’t be.

If only you could have been so lucky. You should have known Gideon wasn’t going to grant you the mercy.

It’s an all-hands assembly. Every Imperial, every servant, every prisoner. The troopers drag you up the steps and secure you facedown on the slanted platform. The restraints are excessive, rendering you essentially immobile.

It doesn’t bode well for a quick death. You had still been clutching the fluttery hope that he’d just decapitate you.

“Last chance to tell me who the spy is,” Gideon murmurs.

“It’s me,” you say.

He laughs. “Oh, stupid girl. If it were, you’d be dead already. You see, even the filthy Rebels don’t leave their own to suffer torture. But you didn’t get even a lullaby, did you?”

You close your eyes. Your crooked fingers twitch of their own accord, a staccato beat on repeat. You hope he’s not watching, but just in case.

Ni ceta. I’m sorry.

“You’re certainly going to wish you did,” he promises.

You don’t listen to his little speech. You try very hard to be anywhere but here, even as your body trembles beyond your control.

When he ignites the darksaber, that tiny hope flutters back to life.

It, and everything else inside you, turns to ash the moment the tip of the blade touches your skin.

He takes his time. You’re sure you scream, but you can’t hear it. Can’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Death lingers on the edges of your vision but won’t take your hand, won’t save you.

When he stops abruptly, you don’t register it right away. The pain remains, though the blade is swinging in an arc somewhere behind you.

Someone else screams.

“Don’t let him bite it,” Gideon is saying to a trooper. The words don’t make sense. You think maybe you faint. When you come to, Gideon has his gloved fist around your neck, and you can see the blurry form of someone behind, restrained by troopers.

“I was right,” Gideon sneers. “You knew the whole time.”

“She didn’t know!” Eli says. “She didn’t know. We didn’t tell her.”

“Shut up, or I’ll take the other one,” Gideon snaps.

Your vision clears enough to figure out what he means. Eli’s right leg has been sliced diagonally above the knee, the limb somewhere out of your field of vision. His saving grace, for better or worse, was that the wound was cauterized instantly.

Much like your back.

When Gideon reignites the saber, Eli struggles. You wish you had the strength to tell him not to.

You’re beginning to suspect neither of you will be dying any time soon.

When he finishes, Gideon is almost gleeful when he grabs a holopad to show you what the cameras are showing everyone. The Imperial Crest burned into your back, almost exactly where Din’s Mythosaur is.

When you black out this time, he doesn’t bother to wake you.

You wake in the cage. It’s dark and the arena is empty, but you’re not alone.

Eli has dragged himself to lean against the back wall, looking a sickly pale blue. You aren’t sure how he’s still conscious. Or how you are.

He’s coaching himself through breathing and your own pain begins to fade in, your brain no longer able to ignore the new wounds any more than it can ignore the work of the droid.

“Why did you draw attention to yourself?” you ask him with a hoarse, shattered voice. “ I feel like that should be spy 101 or something.” You crawl closer, desperate not to die alone.

He gives you a wry smile. “You know, I didn’t come here to make friends. Allies, sure. But not friends.”

“Oh, you absolute fool,” you sigh. Your head rests on his good thigh, allowing you to more easily lay on your side and keep dirt off your back. “I wasn’t worth it.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But maybe the Rebels left me here for six years, and I wasn’t allowed to save a single person. And then you came and cared so much.”

You sigh.

"You saved someone. Not for the cause, but just because you could. And you would have done the same for me," he says. “I don’t blame you."

But you wish he would.

Silence settles with the stars. For the first time since you’ve been on the surface, you’re able to enjoy them.

“What?” Eli says as you stare upward.

“The sky is so pretty,” you say, huffing a breath. “The sky is so pretty, and we’re going to die.”

“Technically, those things are always true,” Eli says.

His truth is, at least, a comfort.

next chapter

writing this made me physically ill even though it was planned from the start so if you want to cry/yell with me please do :(

title from "Towards the Sun" by Rihanna.

WARNINGS/SPOILERS BELOW -- -- -- -- -- --

Chapter Specific Warnings: graphic injuries, graphic descriptions of injuries, torture, graphic description of torture, mutilation, dismemberment, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideations, hopelessness, trauma, mental torture, anguish, angst, hurt NO comfort

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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mariaofdoranelle · 5 months

Text

Look at Us Now - ch. 20

Fic masterlist

I think this is my time to shine with an unhinged A/N! I went to Rio to see Taylor Swift, she postponed my show when I was already inside the stadium enduring so much heat several people were passing out or got 2nd degree burns just to touch metal. Then I had to run from not one, but TWO mass muggings (if there’s even a translation for ‘arrastão’ in english). But now I’m home, on a very long break!! And with every intention to bring back LAUN Thursdays.

I’m also using two prompts! This anon one and this from @autumnbabylon

Warnings: language, light NSFW, a small home explosion

Words: 3,8k

If watching Maisie leave because of their custody arrangement was a painful part of Rowan’s weekly routine, he wasn’t ready for the ache he felt in his chest today, when he watched Aelin go with their little girl as well, after everything that happened in the past hours.

Turns out she was meeting Dorian today to discuss a patient she was seeing tomorrow morning. Even if they worked at different places, they often sought each other out when dealing with a difficult or uncommon case.

It was a bittersweet feeling, being alone after one of the best moments of his life. It all came back in flashes while he tried to clean Maisie’s room and the mess of toys she leaves scattered after her stay. He could barely remember where each toy went because his mind only had space for Aelin’s kisses and hips and soft sighs and the lavender smell that still lingered on his arms.

Rowan felt this joyful heat inside him, as golden as Aelin’s hair, making his hands tingle and giving him a sense of weightlessness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Aelin barged into his house and demanded things he was preparing himself to beg her. Aelin pressed on his bed, squirming under his touch. Aelin having a lazy Sunday morning while he cooked his girls breakfast. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin.

His mind sounded like a terribly cliché broken record today.

A few knocks on his front door snapped him out of his thoughts. Did Aelin forget something?

A resigned sigh left Rowan’s lips when he realized it was not the blonde he was hoping for.

“Rowie Bowie.” Fenrys’ smirk was too big for his face. “I know something you don’t know I know.”

Before he could forget, Rowan picked the speeding ticket that was sent to his place and handed it to his friend. “You should really update your home address.” A pause. “And drive carefully.”

Fenrys moved out before Maisie could even speak. His bedroom even became a guest room, but the man has yet to change his address in any official records. Rowan didn’t mind as much as he protested, though; at least his friend’s Amazon packages were going to the right place.

“I should’ve gone to Aelin’s with Dor.” Fenrys folded his ticket and shoved it down his pocket as if it were an old napkin, then threw himself on the couch. “I swear to God, Rowan, you tell me every gossip in that base at lightning speed, but when you and Aelin finally—“

“You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Well, Aelin is telling right now. Over Adarlanian candy.”

Rowan chuckled and grabbed two beers in his fridge, then tossed one to Fenrys. ‘Kiss and tell’ sounded like such a diminishing way to put what happened last night, but the message was still the same. He didn’t mind how Aelin processed what happened and if she talked about him to her friends, it just wasn’t his style.

“Dorian was in Rifthold this week?” Rowan changed the subject, finally catching on the ‘Adarlanian candy’ comment.

Being a self-employed doctor gave the man a flexible work schedule, something that Fenrys could only dream of, working in the military. Dorian always waited for Fen’s breaks to go on trips, but Rowan saw how his friend looked like a lost puppy whenever his boyfriend left for medical conferences or to visit his family in Rifthold without taking him.

“Yeah. When he came back, he suggested we take the next step in our relationship.” Fenrys had a silly smile on his face, eyes trained on the beer bottle he clutched. “I’m very excited about it.”

Rowan sat back, surprised. “You’re getting married?”

“Not yet. We’re not ready,” said the man who’s been living with his boyfriend for about five years. Rowan wouldn’t mention it, though.

“You’re becoming exclusive?”

“Nope. Would you let me finish?”

Rowan raised his brows, a silent request to proceed, and watched his friend’s expression slowly melt.

Fen continued, “We’re adopting.”

Wow. Rowan’s mouth fell open, and he couldn’t quite find the words. Fatherhood is no joke, so this was the last thing he expected to hear from his most unserious friend, but he was so incredibly thrilled for Fenrys. He would absolutely nail it, just like he did everything he set his mind to.

“That’s amazing, Fen.” Rowan sipped his beer. “So Maisie gets a playmate, huh?”

“You bet she does,” he chirped, beaming. “We don’t have a lot figured out yet, and Dor’s still picking the breed, but I’m so excited.”

“The… breed?” Rowan trailed.

“Dor’s really into this dog breed stuff, so I’m letting him call the shots. I don’t care about that, I’m just happy to have a puppy.”

Oh. They’re adopting a dog, not a human. Now that Rowan thought about it, it made more sense.

They chatted a little more in his living room, and it was in the middle of a heated discussion about a colonel’s love life—more specifically, his excess of mistresses inside base—that Rowan’s phone chimed.

It was Aelin, and he was confused to hear Maisie’s screeching while her mother tried to talk to him. “What happened?”

“She wants to—“

“WANNA SEE THE PUPPIES,” Maisie interrupted.

Aelin sighed. “She just learned what an adoption fair is, and—“

It was hard to hear her over their daughter’s screams, especially because Aelin liked to look collected when Maisie threw a tantrum, which meant no shouting over her. However, Rowan understood her saying something along the lines of “It’s on your weekend with her.”

So that was the issue. Rowan was still a little confused, but it sounded like Aelin couldn’t give Maisie permission to go right away because it would be during his parenting time, and the little girl lost it.

“Hey, um—“ he cleared his throat. “Can you hand the phone to Maisie? I’ll put it on FaceTime.”

In the meantime, he cast a glance at Fenrys, grimacing. “I think Maisie wants to go to the adoption fair with you.”

His friend didn’t look up from his phone, smiling. There was a chance Dorian was texting him that right now. “Good. I bet she’s better at finding cute dogs than Dor.”

Over the phone, after hearing the story again from his daughter’s lips, Rowan looked deep into Maisie’s puffy eyes, using his serious dad voice to ask, “Did Uncle Dorian invite you to see the puppies, or you invited yourself?”

The last thing he wanted was to intrude in the couple’s plans, and he knew Maisie wasn’t beyond that to see puppies.

Yet, she shook her head. “He asked me. I promise.”

“Okay, then.” Rowan’s warning stare didn’t relieve Maisie yet. “But…”

His last word hung in the air, filling his daughter’s hopeful, wide eyes. Everyone joked about how every Whitethorn had the exact same set of pine-green eyes, yet Maisie’s were his favorite. He would do anything to never see them tainted with red, absolutely hated when his little girl cried, but he still needed to set boundaries.

“We’re not adopting any dog, okay? You can play with them, you can help your uncles pick theirs, but we’re not bringing a puppy home.”

Maisie agreed to his terms without protest, though he didn’t know for how long. Rowan sloped back on his couch when the phone call ended, waiting for Fenrys to finish raiding his fridge.

“Dor got you real good, man,” he said on his way back, holding two beers and a plate of Aelin’s chocolate cake. “Munchkin will call herself Ryder and make your life hell until you adopt an entire Paw Patrol for her.”

Rowan snorted, knowing his friend was absolutely right. But that’s okay, he also had faith in his own parenting skills. Being a five-year-old’s dad meant he had some pretty good bribes up his sleeve.

˜˜

Rowan should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands away from Aelin for long.

His restlessness restarted after Dorian picked Fenrys up in his house to leave, and it was almost embarrassing how little he contained himself before speed walking the way that led to Aelin’s house.

Now she sat on her office’s desk, legs wrapped around him, right beside the medical books and magazines she should be reading now.

“We’ll have more time later if I just—oh, fuck.”

Rowan swallowed her whimper with a kiss, both hands on her ribcage while his thumbs teased her nipples under her shirt, through her lacy bra. Aelin pressed herself against him as if they could get any closer, and the weight of his length on her made her chase more friction in that area, biting his lip as she did.

“Did you lock the door?”

“Yes.” Rowan kissed the spot between her neck and her shoulder, careful not to leave a mark. It meant more trouble than it’s worth in their line of work. “But you still need to keep quiet.”

She chuckled, her breath fanned against his neck and made him want to do unspeakable—

“Don’t you think she’s too quiet?”

Her sentence sliced through his lustful haze. This was a dangerous sign, some of his most traumatizing moments as a parent started when Maisie was quiet for too long. He did some parent math in his head. Aelin’s clothes were still on, so they weren't gone too long. But he had a feeling it was longer than he should leave his kid unattended.

Rowan took a step back. “I should go check on her.”

Her bittersweet smile said she agreed, but Aelin was quick to tug him closer again, though it lacked the heat from when she did it minutes ago. “But it’s really rude to leave me hot and bothered like this.”

His reply was a noncommittal huh, too distracted by the smirk on her lips to think of a smart retort.

“Uh-huh. And I’ll only forgive you if you stay the night.”

Rowan smirked. “I guess I have no choice. I can’t leave unforgiven after such a great offense.”

She gave him one last kiss, though it was a bit hard amongst all the grinning, and sat back on the chair behind her books. He took the room in while giving himself time to cool down after their make-out session. Their houses had the exact same layout, but she used as an office the room Rowan used as a guest room, formerly Fenrys’ old room. The thought made him snort, calling her attention. He could trust Aelin to turn one of the biggest rooms in the house into a library.

She squinted her eyes at him. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Did you know that Maisie’s been telling her friends that her mother’s office doesn’t have walls, just books?”

“Yeah, I got that email too.” Aelin’s voice was amused.

Rowan stepped around the room, reading the books’ spines. Her office was nothing more than four walls of shelves, a couch by the window and a big desk with her computer in the middle. And a smell that kept Aedion and his allergies away from here.

The most frequent genre was medical books, but they weren’t even a third of them all. She just had everything there. Modern and classics. Fantasy and non-fiction. Horror and romance. At the latter section, Rowan’s eyes went up, away from what Maisie’s prying eyes could reach, and finally found what he was looking for.

“What’re you looking for?” Aelin asked, her voice as grave as a crime scene tape. Do not cross.

But it was too late for her, because he already found what he wanted. The Wrong Mr. Right. The Darkest Temptation. Doctor Daddy. Forbidden Single Dad. He tugged at a random one, wondering if he’d find a shirtless man in the cover.

“Put it back!”

The smirk Rowan concealed with a mocking pout was near transparent. “But I want to see if the pages are sticky.”

“Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin got up from her chair. “You. Are. Ridiculous.” She pointed at the locked door. “Now go! You have a daughter to feed.”

In the living room, he found Maisie lying on her stomach on her play mat. Rowan’s chest warmed at the sight of his little angel. He kept his steps light, ready to sneak up on her. She was just playing on his phone, and to think he thought she’d—

What he saw on the screen was enough to sour his mood.

“Maisie.” Rowan used his stern dad voice, making the little girl stiffen. “What did we talk about games with guns?”

“Daddy.” Maisie’s voice was just as serious, maybe too stern for her height. “You’re a good man, but I can’t accept that.”

He didn’t argue, just outstretched his hand, waiting for her to give the phone back.

She complied with a frown. “Uncle Fen says you work with guns.”

Phones and Fenrys. Two of the long list of things he couldn’t leave Maisie with unsupervised. It wasn’t his favorite class to teach, but Rowan occasionally taught Gun Safety, mostly when there was a shortage of instructors or when Lorcan got mad at Fenrys for letting the new recruits cosplay James Bond with the guns. Not the kind of knowledge he wanted his five-year-old to have, though.

“Sometimes, I teach young people how to be responsible when they’re carrying a gun. It’s very different from those games you want to play.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Very. Now let’s make your mom some tea.”

Rowan set Maisie with a coloring book in the dining table while he looked for a snack to give Aelin while she studied in the office. When he found the tea bags and cookies, Rowan struggled to start the stove. In fact, after further inspection, half the knobs weren’t working.

“Mais, did your mom tell you anything about the stove?”

“She says we need a new one,” his daughter said without taking her eyes off her art piece.

Sounds like Aelin. Of course she’d try to buy a new one without even trying to fix this one. Stoves weren’t his area of expertise, but anyone could fix anything in the Youtube Era.

Which led him back to an issue he was currently dealing with, Rowan mused as he searched for Aelin’s limited toolbox. He failed Aelin when she needed him the most. She pushed him away and hid major stuff of her life from him because she found him unreliable and untrustworthy. Yes, they were together now, but Rowan knew damn well that having sex wouldn’t rebuild her trust in him.

Aelin told him she loved him, and he believed her. But lack of love wasn’t the reason his family broke apart years ago. Now she was giving him one more chance, and Rowan would be damned if he wasted it.

To his luck, Maisie was being a good sport while he tried to fix the stove. Apart from taking a look at the insides of it when he took off the knobs and the cover of the control panel, she kept to her coloring book. Not having to wrangle her gave him space to think.

His session with Yrene was nice, but it wouldn’t happen again. At the end, she recommended other therapists for Rowan and suggested they stay just with family therapy. He had a suspicion it was because he—very subtly—kept trying to pry out of Yrene Aelin’s opinions on everything he talked about.

But it was better than he anticipated. She helped him organize his thoughts and come up with own advice to himself. She’s great, or at least better at this than Fenrys. Rowan even scheduled another appointment with one of her recommendations, mostly because he still had some things to consider regarding Aelin.

Spiraling in his own self-loathing wouldn’t fix anything, but that didn’t mean his feelings had changed. Rowan was just moving forward and trying to fix things at the same time he dealt with his fucked-up conscience.

He had no idea how to gain Aelin’s trust again. But, today, he’d fix her stove. Rowan inspected the knobs for dirt. Cleaned the contacts. Checked for loose wires. Managed to keep the kid alive while she read medical journals. When Aelin left her office today, would she see herself relying on him like this in the long term, and not just this Sunday?

“I think we’re done here, Mais,” he said after reassembling everything.

“Finally!” His daughter jumped off the chair. “Daddy, this was sooo…” Maisie dragged the adverb for as long as her breath allowed. “boring.”

He lightly tugged on one of her pigtails. “But if I got it right, I’ll be able to cook whatever you want. How about that?”

The girl’s eyes lit up at that, and there was nothing else for Rowan to do than test. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned the stove on.

Every single knob was working on full power.

Rowan let out a borderline arrogant laugh, his chest radiating with warmth as he picked Maisie up. “Are you seeing that?”

She threw both arms up. “We did it!”

He smacked a kiss at her cheek. He was smug, yes, but not enough to tell Maisie she didn’t do anything. His daughter could take all the credit she wanted.

After putting her back on the floor, he picked his phone to record this, since he didn’t want to interrupt Aelin’s study session.

“Hey, Aelin,” he said with the camera pointed at the working stove. “I cleaned it on the inside and fixed some loose wires. All six knobs are working now, as you can see. Now I’m gonna close one by one…”

As soon as the fire dimmed in the first knob he closed, it resurged a lot higher with a loud bang. Maisie’s loud scream was what unfroze him, making him disconnect the power source while loud footsteps came from the hallway.

“What was that?” Aelin asked, eyes wide from the kitchen door.

“Um—“

“DADDY KILLED THE STOVE.”

The little traitor. Hadn’t they fixed it together?

He made sure Maisie was alright, then explained everything to Aelin, even showed her the video. While he did it, Rowan expected everything. Anger, annoyance, frustration.

He just didn’t expect Aelin to throw her head back and cackle.

“You silly Buzzard.” She caressed his cheek with her thumb. “You didn’t have to do all this. I already bought a cooktop way cooler than this old thing.”

His face fell. “You did what?”

She wiggled her eyebrows at Maisie. “Now that there’s no stove, I guess we’ll have to eat pizza for dinner.”

The little girl cheered, bringing a smile to his face. He squeezed Aelin’s hand. “I’ll order one when you’re finished.”

It’s the least he could do, after completely butchering her half-working stove.

“Nah.” Aelin sneaked a peck when Maisie had her back to them. “Enough studying for today.”

˜˜

After putting Maisie to sleep, Aelin was telling him about the little parts of her day that he didn’t experience firsthand.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” She offered the candy Dorian brought from Adarlan. Apparently, it was one of his most important obligations as her best friend whenever he visited his family. She had her favorites, but he often added some new ones for her to try.

“I’ll pass, but thanks.”

At first, it was really hard to understand the nature of Aelin’s relationship with Dorian. The fact that they’re thick as thieves despite being exes, were together and with other people at the same time with no jealousy… it’s a lot to grasp. Rowan didn’t think he ever would, but he did understand that whatever she had with Dorian didn’t impact her romantic feelings towards him, and that’s all he needed to know.

Besides, it was transparent how in love he was with Fenrys, in their own modern, slutty way. Rowan only had to thank the man for taking care of two of his favorite people.

“There’s this other thing…” Aelin trailed, biting her lip. The change in her expression was enough to pique his interest, especially when he saw the bag she retrieved from under her bed.

“Jizz and Bone?” He read out loud the name on the bag with a questioning tone, eyes widening at the suggestive logo.

“Yes.” Aelin’s face wasn’t half as serious as she was trying to make it look. “This is from Fen’s and Dorian’s favorite gay sex shop, but it’s just chocolate—“

“Are you telling me he bought you gay chocolate? Is that a thing?”

“Yes.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “And it’s not even the gayest thing I’m putting in my mouth tonight.”

Rowan pinched her side, making the little smart-ass squeal. He could always count on Aelin to keep the most embarrassing moments of his life alive. “You’re gonna explain the chocolate or not?”

“Yes!” She gave herself a moment to die down from laughing. “He bought it for himself, but gave me a bar when I told him we got together. It’s aphrodisiac chocolate.”

“Lovely.” Rowan made a show of pretending to look at it before giving it back to her. “But I don’t like chocolate.”

“But you love steamy sex.”

Rowan sighed. That he did. “Aelin…” he flipped her so he could cage her in the bed, hovering over her. He nipped her pulse point before whispering in her ear, “Take a quick look in the mirror, and you’ll see why I don’t need chocolate to turn me on.”

She shivered, but still grabbed his hair and made their eyes meet to say, “I want to try it. If you’re not a willing participant, I can try alone tomorrow with my vibra—“

Rowan groaned in protest, but rolled off of her to put the recommended dose of aphrodisiac chocolate in his mouth. He winced at the sweet taste, mixed with velvety flavors and exotic spices, but at least it was better than he expected. Aelin did the same, though she looked a lot more pleased with the taste.

They set a timer for thirty minutes as they were oriented to in the box, since Aelin wanted to do a precise evaluation, in her own words, and she continued to talk about her day. As much as she tried to make it sound simple, it took only a few minutes for Rowan to accept that he’d never understand her doctor talk, so he just nodded along and reacted according to her facial expressions. She could be talking absolute nonsense with an angry face just to get an equally angry reaction from him, he’d never know.

Aelin frowned when the timer went off. “I don’t feel anything. Did the chocolate work with you?”

“I never hoped it would.”

“Shame.” Aelin sighed. “Wanna fuck anyway?”

It was record-breaking, the speed in which Rowan pulled her to his lap.

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emberfrostlovesloki · 6 months

Text

A for Effort [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (Google) (Center (@hotch-girl) Right (@archaic-stranger)

Prompt: A meet-cute of how Aaron met the non-BAU reader at Penelope’s theater improv group show. And how Aaron accompanies the reader to host her Halloween extra-credit horror movie watch and discussion for her students.

Pairing: Hotch x fem presenting reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns.

Category: Angst/fluff/comfort

Word Count: 8.2K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (unsub drugs and beats teenagers, Hotch takes a beating, awkwardness, mention of being cheated on (reader’s boyfriend cheats on her with a best friend), mention of separation, light drinking, unwanted touch (a guy is handsy with the reader), vomit is mentioned (in the context of the film The Exorcist), religious themes, mention of intimacy (sexual touch over the clothes) If I missed any, please let me know.

A/N: This one is just me having fun. I did give my students extra credit where we watched a horror movie and discussed the elements of the film. I couldn’t help but picture Aaron there with me, so I wrote this. I teach English but I’ve made this story that there could be a plethora of subjects. I really like the meet-cute element of this story. It was fun to write. If you like this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Below I have included some cultural definitions for my international readers. If you’re from the States, especially the South and you know what dance halls and cotilion are, then feel free to skip this. I just want to make sure my readers feel included. Please know I am not good at line dancing or swing dancing - I do ballet to this is not my personal dance style. Lastly, before I sign off, you can vote for the next Aaron story you want from me at this post (linked). I hope you have a great night - Love Levi

Definitions

Dance Hall: An enclosed space with a dance floor, a stage for live music, and a bar (normally). The space is pretty age-inclusive and most music is country. Couples and singles come and often mix and match partners. Some people go to show off their skills here. The dances are normally line dances or swing dancing which relies a lot on improv. The lighting is normally dimmed, though not as much as at a nightclub.

Cotillion: Essentially manners class. These can be after school or on the weekends. It’s associated with the debutant circle and court.

List with all stories

_y/n_ = your name

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/l/g/s_ = your local grocery store

_y/e/c_ = your eye color.

_y/f/a(s)/s_ = your favorite art (or science) subject - aka English, film, art, psychology, etc.

_y/u_ = your university

_y/s’s/d’s/b_ = your subject’s department’s building

Aaron sat down in the second to last folding chair with a very small grunt. The sound was so quiet that Spencer, who was on his right side, didn’t even notice that he had made it. The last case had seen Hotch tracking down a stalker who was preying on teenage girls, drugging and beating them severely before dumping their bodies on the steps of their parent's houses to be found the next morning. Aaron had experienced the strength of the forty-seven-year-old unsub as they had sprinted down an alleyway. The team had gotten to the fifth victim just in time. With Rossi, Spencer, and Emily taking care of the teen, Aaron and Morgan gave chase on foot. When both met a crossroads, each took a path. Aaron took the sidewalk to the left. Using all of his strength, Hotch had been able to catch up to the unsub. When they reached a dead end, the power balance changed. The unsub, Kevin Leery, realized his only means of escape was fighting his way out. The man quickly turned before Aaron, who was now pretty winded from all the running, could pull his sidearm. Hotch had been victorious, though, by the state of his aching body, he might not say so. Rossi had called the paramedics for him. The medics assured Rossi and the team, more than himself, that he would be fine in a few days. That there were no broken bones, just some bruised ribs, and a pretty battered left hand. Aaron’s attention shifted as there seemed to be movement behind the small curtain that was waiting to be raised. Hotch was glad for this distraction. He needed his mind on other things than his body. When Garcia had taken up improv as a hobby, the whole team was on board. Especially Morgan. Derek, at least twice a week would say, “Now Babygirl, when do we get to see a performance?” Penelope would blush and say, “When we’re ready. You can’t rush talent, and the whole troupe is still getting everyone else's vibe.” Aaron would give a small smile that he tried to hide when he overheard these conversations. Improv felt like the perfect art for his technical analyst. When the first performance was announced, Garcia printed fliers and invited the whole team to come and watch the show and then grab dinner afterward. Everyone had joyfully agreed. Aaron had marked the date on his personal calendar over a month out. He ensured that Jack could be at Hailey’s that day. The anticipation grew as the one-night performance loomed. Garcia had said a few things about breaking the fourth wall and audience participation. Hotch was sure that whoever was picked wouldn’t be him. Garcia knew him too well to let that happen. Part of him wanted whoever was making that choice pick to Derek. He thought it would be fun to see his friend on stage attempting to play an act. And Aaron knew that Morgan was easy-going enough to play along with whatever the group had him do.

Aaron’s thoughts were pulled from the curtain and any movement that may or may not be going on behind it as someone tapped his shoulder and asked, “Sorry is this seat taken?” Hotch’s eyes snapped to the woman who was standing in the small aisle of the tiny theater the improv group had rented out for the evening. Aaron’s gaze looked into the inquisitive face of the stranger, and he said, “Yes, I mean no, No it’s not. Feel free to sit here. Sorry.” Hotch wasn’t sure why he was being stuttery all of a sudden. Most of it was probably because the woman who was now settling into the chair very close to his was incredibly beautiful. However, what Hotch told himself was that this mystery woman was holding flowers and he wasn’t. Hotch stopped himself from face-palming. He had forgotten to bring flowers for Penelope. He would profusely apologize after and then pay whatever amount he needed to get a florist to drop off an arraignment when he got back home. The woman next to him with some trepidation given his recent slip. She made one final shift, as she set her purse and the flowers on the ground in front of her and pulled out the program for the two-act play. While doing this, she inadvertently brushed her thigh up against his. Aaron felt a rush through his body at the contact. Very quietly the woman said, “Sorry.” Hotch looked over, and she was looking at him as if she was making sure he was alright for the unintended contact. Hotch gave a small nod and said, “Don’t worry about it.” After the contact, the person sitting next to him seemed to be the only thing he could focus on. She had pulled her legs and body tight into the chair, to not touch him again. The light scent of her perfume washed over him with her body heat. They were just an inch or two apart, and Hotch couldn’t help but observe her as she flipped through the program with an interest. To not seem weird or be caught staring, Aaron looked to his right at the team. If Spencer had noticed his odd behavior, the boy-wonder wasn’t letting on. But when Hotch’s eyes moved one chair over, Rossi looked at him with eyebrows raised. This time Aaron couldn't stifle the sigh that he let out at seeing Dave’s expression. His best friend on the team was always on to him about lighting up. About living a little. Aaron always rebuffed these comments. He thought he lived plenty -- and nearly died in the field more than that. All of these conversations, stated or unstated, had started a respectful time after Hailey had left him. Hotch was sure Rossi, and the whole team had seen that his marriage had been crumbling as much as he did. Maybe they saw it before he did. If they had, they didn’t say anything about it apart from Dave, and one very kind comment from Emily. Prentiss had asked him one day late in the office, “Are you alright, Aaron?” It was a hypothetical question, and he replied, “I think I am. Thank you for asking, Em.” They had left it at that. Aaron still thought about that comment sometimes. There was a small movement from the companion to his left like they had heard his sigh and stilled their movements because of it. Aaron willed himself to not look back at the woman. Thankfully the lights dimmed and the curtain raised.

The play was about a man who worked at an office and was slowly losing his mind. The program said the idea was loosely based on the short story, “Bartleby the Scrivener” by Melville. Garcia played the perky secretary who was always badgering the lead about this private life. The play was funny. The dynamic between the actors was natural as they riffed off each other and the confines of the small narrative being built between them. As the first act ramped to conflict with the lead, a youthful-looking man with a mustache broke the fourth wall and said, “But Maddison," which was Penelope’s character’s name, "there’s something I haven’t told you. I have a fiance! And they’re in the room with us” The small crowd in the room all took an intake of breath at the revelation. Suddenly everyone in the small assembled crowd looked at each other. Penelope said, “Well get her up here this instant! I’ve got to meet her. She must be mental if she’s in love with you.” There was a second that with bated horror, that Aaron thought the lead was going to point at him. But the man’s pointer finger pointed at the woman sitting next to him. All eyes turned to her. Aaron could see her deflate a tiny bit. As the man on stage said, “Come up here, beloved. Come and meet the source of my madness.” The woman got up and as she moved toward the stage, he guessed that the protagonist hadn’t informed her beforehand that this would be happening. In the back of his mind, Aaron thought, “What a dick move.” The man helped the woman up onto the stage. She was wearing a skirt, and she was more careful that she didn’t flash anyone as she was hoisted up on the stage than the man helping her upward. At seeing this, something small in Aaron twitched up comfortably. When the woman was on stage, Penelope rushed forward and hugged the woman. Aaron could see that Pen had also seen what he had. Hotch could see in Garcia’s embrace both an act and a real gesture of comfort. Garcia pulled back and asked, “So, you’re cooped up with this old bat all hours of the day and night? How are you coping with that?” There was a tense silence while the audience waited for the woman to respond. The lead moved toward the woman, and his right hand found purchase on her lower back. The woman seemed to lean into the touch. Aaron immediately assumed that the two were a couple. It would make sense if the mustache man had picked her. The silence persisted. It lay heavy over the crowd. It became awkward as the woman looked at the man and the audience. Her eyes shone with anxiety. Finally, the man said, “Have nothing to say about me, darling?” At this, finally, the woman said, looking directly, intently at the man, “Oh sweetness, I could go on and on, and on about you. I just don’t think your friend would like what I have to say.” As soon as that line was uttered, the curtain fell, signaling the short intermission.

The crowd cheered and applauded as the cast and the woman were veiled. Aaron could hear Emily and JJ, and Derek and Rossi’s conversations about the show so far. They sounded so happy. As Hotch offered a comment to Spencer about the intricacies of Melville’s writing and how it related to the performance, he couldn’t help but think how the woman, when giving her one line had been acting as well. But some small part of her tone had indicated that it wasn’t all an act. That fact gnawed at Aaron like a dog on a bone. The intermission was short, only about fifteen minutes long. As the minutes ticked by, Hotch waited for the woman to return to her seat. After what felt like an eternally long ten minutes, she reappeared and moved down the row to her seat. Hotch offered her a hand as she steeped with high heels around her purse, program, and flowers to take her seat. Aaron looked at her closely as she sat. It was clear to Aaron that she was less joyful than she had been before the show had started. The woman’s makeup was smudged a bit, and he wondered if she had been crying during the brief break. When she was seated, Hotch removed his hand and the woman, very quietly said, ‘Thank you.” Aaron nodded and replied, “Of course.” The man had mentioned engagement on stage, and he couldn’t help himself from looking for a ring on her left hand. He found none. His wedding ring sat heavy in a box on his bedside table, reminding him of his personal shortcomings. For one tiny moment, his heart ached for his woman. Whatever it was she was going through. Aaron rarely allowed himself to have these extraneous emotions, but in the here and now, he couldn’t seem to stop them. The repetition of the lights dimming and the curtain raising once more stopped any further thoughts on the matter. The second half of the play was as funny as the first as the lead slowly lost his sanity and refused to leave the office, even under the direct order of his boss. Subliminally, Aaron felt called out at that element of the storyline. When the play ended there was thunderous applause and a standing ovation was given to the cast. Everyone slowly filtered out of the room and Hotch noticed as the woman moved to the front of the stage and kissed the lead on the mouth, handing her flowers over to him. Aaron turned his head away at the moment of intimacy between the couple. Something about what had happened during the play didn’t sit right with him, but who was he to comment on relationships?

At the dinner after the show, Pen was showered with the praise she deserved. When things had quieted down, Aaron had over-apologized about not bringing flowers, and Garcia had wholly forgiven him. He asked in a more subdued voice, “So the lead, Richard, he chose who in the audience got called up on stage?” Hotch tried to sound nonchalant but wasn’t sure if he was being convincing. Garcia didn’t seem to notice, and replied, “Yeah. He called his girlfriend, obviously. I’ve had a few conversations with _y/n_ before and after rehearsals. She’s really sweet, and too good for Rich if I’m being honest. I don’t think she appreciated being called out like that.” Aaron nodded as a few more pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. The night wound down, and Hotch managed to get some flowers to Penelope around midnight. It might have cost him $83.75, but it was worth it to get Pen’s text, with a picture attached of the bouquet thanking him profusely. Pen included every flower emoji available in the message. As Aaron got ready to sleep, his thoughts shifted to the woman. He thought back to Garcia’s comments and remembered her name: _y/n_. As he drifted into sleep, he hoped that she was alright. She was happy.

Neither _y/n_or Aaron expected to see the other ever again. But they did a month later. Hotch was doing his weekly grocery shopping at _y/l/g/s_. The person in front of him in line for the check-out had a scant four items on the conveyor belt. The items were a bottle of wine, some strawberries, a bar of 75% dark chocolate, and a dozen pink roses. Hotch sighed softly and thought, ‘At least someone’s having a good time tonight.’ As the woman who looked oddly familiar to him got to the cashier, they rifled through her purse to find their credit card. She softly said, “Shit.” The cashier told her her total of $25.47. The woman said, “I’m sorry I forgot my wallet in my office. Please just put everything back. Sorry for the inconvenience.” At hearing the woman speak, Aaron recognized the voice of the woman who had sat next to him at Penelope’s performance. The woman seemed to be ready to leave, but Aaron stopped her and said, “I’ve got it.” The woman looked over at him and recognized him immediately. _y/n_, “Oh, No. You don’t have to do that.” Hotch gave her a reassuring smile and replied, “Really, it’s no problem.” He added, “You did very good while onstage by the way. You handled it with grace.” The woman flushed. She said a soft, “Thanks.” After a second, she extended her hand and said, “y/n_, _l/n_.” Aaron took her hand and replied, “Aaron, Hotchner.” _y/n_’s palm was warm in his hand. Lost in the moment, and the woman’s eyes. Hotch asked, “Date night?” At hearing this, _y/n_ seemed to cringe a little bit, and he wondered what he had said wrong. From the small assortment of things _y/n_ was attempting to buy, date night seemed to check out. Date night with Rich, as Pen had said last month. Hotch stopped from sighing at the idea. The woman replied a beat later, “It’s a pity party, actually.” Hearing this, Aaron’s eyes furrowed. _y/n_ quickly clarified, “Let me reframe that in a more positive light. I am taking myself on a date.” There was an awkward silence after that statement and a more awkward cough from the cashier. Aaron stepped up and pulled his card from his wallet in the back left pocket of his jeans. Once he had paid for _y/n_’s groceries, the cashier started scanning his items. The young employee had started to put his groceries in the same bag as _y/n_’s items. Aaron thought about saying something, but he stopped himself. The young man working the till seemed flustered, and he didn’t want to add to the man’s distress. It would be okay if he paid for both groceries and their groceries, and then he could separate _y/n_’s items from his own. _y/n_ stood nearby, tentatively. Once Aaron had paid for his things he grabbed another plastic bag. He shifted through his own items to find _y/n_’s. As he put the four products into the new bag, he had to ask, “‘Pity party?’” Hotch missed the large flush and look of shame on _y/n_’s face as she said candidly, “My boyfriend, ex-boyfriend.. Rich. He kinda cheated on me with my best friend. It’s a whole thing.” Hotch couldn’t help himself from cringing at her honesty. At how painful that must have been for _y/n_. All that Aaron’s brain could supply was a soft, “I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.” _y/n_ shrugged her shoulders and said, “I mean, all of my friends and colleagues know. I don’t know why it would be much worse with you in the loop too. Plus you bought me my stuff and I appreciate that.” Aaron flushed again saying, “It’s really nothing given the circumstances.” He held his tongue after that. He had already said too much. Hotch couldn’t figure out where his brain went when he was near _y/n_, but it wasn’t his normal calm and composed self, that’s for sure.

Aaron let _y/n_ go to her car to not hold her up from her ‘date night.’ The recesses of Hotch’s brain wished he could get in the car with _y/n_ and join her in whatever activities she had planned for herself that evening. Hotch reprimanded himself for the thought. _y/n_ had just experienced a real pain, a hurt to the soul, and here he was longing after her like a puppy looking for some attention. For a pat on the back. Using more effort than he wished he had to, Aaron let the moment, the feelings for _y/n_ go. He had to for his well-being. He was certain that it was just fate that he and _y/n_ had bumped into each other twice. As Aaron drove back to his place and unloaded his groceries into his fridge, he found the receipt from the store. The four items from _y/n_ stood out at the top of the waxy paper. Again, he let all of those emotions, which he refused to address, go. Aaron fiddled with the buttons on his shirt and then took off his pants, as he moved into his bedroom. He decided to take a shower to clear his thoughts. Maybe to get another kind of relief that he had been missing since Hailey’s departure. Under the cascade of warm water, Aaron let go with his body and, as he began to dry his form with a warm towel, he cleansed his mind of impure thoughts. He wanted to sleep with an empty mind. One that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As he drifted off, Hotch hoped _y/n_ had also found some kind of release that night.

Another month and a half passed before they had their third meeting. It had been the worst team bonding training of all time. The presenter had cheery slides and made high-school-level references to trust and honesty between team members and cohorts. JJ, Rossi, and Morgan had all looked at him with clear disbelief at what they were being subjected to in the hour-long training. When the presenter mentioned something about a trust fall, Aaron almost lost his cool. He could deal with many things, the long hours, the gore he saw weekly, the stress of leading the team, and his eyestrain, but he drew the line at being forced to endure this. He looked over his team with eyebrows drawn taught. When he looked at Garcia she was laughing unabashedly. The presenter was looking at Penelope unsure of himself. Aaron shot Garcia a look that said, “Please, stop now,” even though he wanted to join in on the hilarity of the situation. Once the team had been released from the presenter’s lecture, Hotch gathered the team and said, “Well I promise you all, that…” He gesticulated with his hands, demonstrating, that training, “will never happen again. If you want some real team bonding let's go to that dance hall Emily keeps trying to get us to go to tonight.” Hearing this Prentiss flushed, but she had been saying that it was a really good time and it was. Emily had had a few great evenings at the new dance hall. After a moment of silence, Rossi said, “Here, here. I for one need a stiff drink after whatever that was.” The whole team seemed to relax after this. At eight-thirty, the team arrived at the venue. The space was large and the lot was full for a Tuesday evening. Everyone had changed except Aaron, who had come straight from the office. He had ditched his jacket in the trunk of his car. His suggestion had been an attempt to take Rossi’s advice to lighten up. As soon as he entered the crowded space, he realized that he had miscalculated. Everyone on the floor, those seated at the benches and tables on the sidelines, and those getting drinks at the bar were dressed very casually. His slacks and loafers didn’t belong here. As a way to deflect from making him the odd man out, Aaron offered to get the first round of drinks. As he got the orders from the team, he moved to the bar, and some of the BAU members, Emily, JJ, and Morgan, found partners and moved to the wooden dance floor. With a slew of drinks in tow. Hotch moved back to his friends and colleagues. Rossi, Penelope, and Spencer took a few sips, as they watched the dancers move to the country music. Aaron knew that this was mostly a Southern culture thing, but he understood that dancing was a universal pleasure, even if he wasn’t particularly good at it. His mother had signed him up for cotillion classes in high school and he reluctantly went every week for a month. His mom had wanted him to grow up the perfect gentleman, and even though he maybe hadn’t picked up all the dance moves, he thought he succeeded pretty well at the rest of it.

As the songs changed there seemed to be some excitement at the center of the floor. A couple was dancing with skill and the other dancers gave them room to improvise their steps and tricks. It was showing off for showing off’s sake. As Aaron looked over the pair on the floor he recognized the woman as _y/n_ from the play and the store. His eyes widened and Hotch looked at Penelope who was also watching _y/n_ with rapt wonder. Aaron turned his eyes back to the floor and the woman was pushed, pulled, dipped, and raised in a multitude of ways and speeds. As _y/n_ was raised in the air, supported by strong arms on her hips, a few cheers came from the crowd and fellow dancers. The woman even waved her hand in acknowledgment of the praise. Uplifted and in the spinning lights, she looked so happy, like she didn’t have a care in the world. Unlike her time on stage, she looked like she belonged up there, floating on air. Hotch felt himself flush all over and he looked away for a second. Rossi watched Aaron’s reaction with more than a little interest. After the song was over there was a small bit of applause at the skill put on display for the crowd. The talented man that had been dancing with _y/n_ kissed her on the cheek chastely. From what Aaron could see, the two were just friends or maybe dance partners, but not much more. Of course, he couldn’t hear what _y/n_ said to him, but as she turned toward Hotch’s group, there were no signs of arousal in her face or body, just unabated joy. Aaron hadn’t seen her this happy before, and he flushed again. Aaron internally told himself to ‘get a grip.' _y/n_ walked toward their table, not noticing them yet.

As she got closer Penelope called out for her saying, “Hey _y/n_, what a surprise to see you here!” The woman looked up and spotted Garcia and beamed. _y/n_ quickly moved over to the huddle of FBI agents and said, “Heya, Pen. What are you doing here?” _y/n_ looked over Rossi, Spencer, and then at Hotch. Her eyes grew a bit wider at seeing him and she said, “And you…” It took her a moment to remember Aaron’s name. When it came to her, she continued, “Aaron.” _y/n_ looked between Garcia and Hotch and asked, “Y’all know each other?” Penelope, ever the enthusiastic conversationalist said, “We all work together. This is my team.” Garica pointed to each of them saying their names. Spencer smiled at _y/n_ when his name was mentioned and Rossi shook her hand warmly. As Aaron’s name came up, _y/n_ gave a soft smile and she said, “It’s nice to see you again, Aaron.” He swallowed and said, “It’s nice to see you too.” And it was nice. To see her so radiant made him feel good. _y/n_, Garcia, and Rossi talked a bit about her dancing abilities and she seemed to shy away from her talent. Garcia couldn’t help herself and asked, “Did you ever take Richard here?” Hotch froze for a moment, unsure if Garcia was aware of the breakup. _y/n_’s soft snort made him feel better as she said, “Are you kidding me? He refused to come because I was better than him at dancing and other people wanted to interact with me. All four pairs of eyes were on her as _y/n_ shared some of her personal life with them. For a team of highly skilled profilers, having someone be so open was a bit strange. Penelope helped cut the feeling and said, “Of course he wouldn’t. The man really needs to get over his own ego. He complained about you and whined for a mouth at least during practice. He still talks about it. Honestly, he’s pathetic.” Garcia saying this had _y/n_ laughing and replied, “Tell me about it. I wished I’d seen it sooner, but c’est la vie I guess.” Penelope nodded along, and after a moment _y/n_ said, “Well I’m going to grab a drink at the bar, but I’ll swing by later if you’re still around. It was nice to see some of you again, and to meet you, Dr. Reid and Dave.” The team all said some form of “see you later,” as she moved away from them. As she passed Hotch, he gave her one of his rare smiles, or more like she had drawn the smile from him. Again Rossi noticed.

Three songs later _y/n_ was back on the dance floor with a much less skilled dancer. The man had his hands all over _y/n_ after the first minute of music and _y/n_ was constantly moving his hands up, or stopping them from moving lower. She had said twice and to “cut it out” but the man was not listening to her. Hotch and Rossi watched as it happened. Both men felt uncomfortable with what was happening. After another minute, _y/n_ pulled back and away from the man, telling him off. Her face was set in a more sour look as she moved to the sidelines and away from her temporary partner. The man sought to follow her, but Hotch was out of his seat as he watched the situation unfold before him. Rossi breathed a sigh of relief as his friend did this because he was about to do the same and he felt that _y/n_ might be a bit more comfortable with Aaron than himself. Hotch cut the man off from moving any closer to _y/n_ and said with a clear, firm, and determined voice, “Out. Now.” The man didn’t argue and Aaron wasn’t sure if it was his fancy dress or the look on his face, but either way, the man left. Hotch followed him with a searing glare until he left the establishment. Once the guy was gone, he turned to _y/n_ she looked at him with half awe half admiration. He couldn’t pinpoint the second emotion, but it wasn’t negative and that’s what mattered to him. He took two steps closer, getting close to her. He leaned down a bit and asked, “_y/n_, are you alright?” When he looked at her this closely he could see a warmth in her _y/e/c_ eyes. She nodded and said, “I’ll be fine. Unfortunately, that kind of behavior can be par for the course here. Asking total strangers for a dance means not all of them are fantastic people.” Hotch nodded, saying, “Well it still doesn’t make it right.” _y/n_ felt her breath hitch a bit as he said this. He said it with sincerity like he really meant it. _y/n_ had seen plenty of guys try to defend her honor or other cliches like that just to go and disrespect her themselves. She didn’t sense that at all in the tall man standing in front of her. _y/n_ was also impressed with his commanding presence. It had only taken two words to make the man flee the scene. Two. Words. She wondered what else he could do with his voice alone. _y/n_ flushed and looked to the floor for a second. The fact didn’t pass Aaron by. After a second, _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “Can I pay you back for your help with a drink or a dance? I haven’t seen you out on the floor yet. I’d be happy to partner with you if you like?” Hotch shifted a little, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He didn’t feel like another drink. He normally stuck to one or two, and he’d already had a second beer. He wanted to dance with _y/n_ but his two left feet didn’t seem too convinced that he could cut it with someone as skilled as _y/n_. _y/n_ could see his hesitation and said, “I can lead if you like. We can do just real easy steps.” Aaron looked at her and saw that she wouldn’t be embarrassed with him. She genuinely wanted to be with him like that. Hotch flushed again, more lightly this time, and he said, “Alright, I’ll do my best to not trip over my own feet.” _y/n_ chuckled as they took his hand and led him to a quieter part of the floor. A bit away from the team, which Hotch was grateful for; though he was sure the team was probably watching him. He didn’t blame them, he’d watch too if he could.

The dance went well. _y/n_ turned out to be a skilled instructor for him. He did try very hard to follow the steps and let _y/n_ improv off his lacking moves. At one point _y/n_ even let him do a little spin, which was very awkward given how much taller he was than her. He had to let go of her hand to make the 360-degree rotation. They had both laughed good-naturedly at how silly it was. When he was being treated like this, Aaron didn’t mind not having control. After another song, the music took a sudden change from country and swing to slow sensual music. _y/n_ let his hands go and took a step back. Aaron looked around, not sure why there had been such a dramatic change. People were slow dancing now and he looked to _y/n_ for clarity. _y/n_ gave him a gentle smile and said, “The last hour is always slow music so those who don’t like swing dancing or line dancing get a turn. I think it’s nice. Inclusive in a way. Aaron nodded and said, “Oh.” He stood still for a moment. He looked to the ground for an instant wondering how he was going to ask if she wanted to continue to dance. Because he did want to keep dancing with her. When he looked up, she was looking at him. _y/n_ was biting down lightly on the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t see that her pupils were blown wide with desire. Her fingers were tapping against her leg lightly. _y/n_ wanted Aaron’s hands back in hers. Or behind her back while her arms rested on his shoulders. She wanted to be inexplicably close to him at that moment. Hotch didn’t say anything, didn’t need to say anything as he bridged the gap between them. His hands found purchase on her hips and _y/n_’s hand moved up to his shoulders. His hands glided over his chest softly. Aaron closed his eyes, and they both moved on instinct. With what was comfortable for them. _y/n_ melted into his touch, and his large hands gently landed on her body. They were warm and held her firmly like he was afraid that she might slip away if he let go. _y/n_ would be happy to reassure him that she would likely follow him to the ends of the earth even though she had only met him three times before. Aaron’s cologne smelled of rye and spruce, but it wasn’t the overpowering stuff teens and insecure men used with a heavy hand. This was refined. Elevated. It took a lot of what she had in her to not rest her head on his chest and take a deep breath. After two more songs, Aaron looked down at her and she seemed so at peace with him holding her close. And for the first time in a very long time, he leaped before he looked, as he leaned down further. He was slow, giving _y/n_ time to stop him, but she didn’t. Instead, she tipped her head up to meet his lips. The kiss was soft, respectful of how new and potentially strange this was, but neither could deny that the feeling was blissful. Hotch didn’t even care that JJ, Garcia, and Emily all had their mouths open in pure shock at his actions.

_y/n_ and Aaron’s relationship moved at a normal pace. As much as they had both been drawn to each other the night they had first kissed, both parties wanted to give the other space. To make sure things were comfortable and natural. _y/n_ wasn’t the type to commit to anything without fulling thinking and feeling it out. Aaron was the same for obvious reasons. But they had found a love and care between them, along with a passion that _y/n_ and Hotch had pretty much expected given the events the night at the dance hall. They both learned about each other, their jobs, and the intricacies of their lives. And after all that _y/n_ still wanted him, and Aaron was amazed at how nice it was to have someone steady to lean on. To care for while he wasn’t working. Someone had loved him back as intensely. As it turned out _y/n_ lectured _y/f/a(s)/s_ at _y/u_. And because of this, he was driving toward the university campus in _y/n_’s car with her in the passenger seat. They were chatting about his day in the office. Aaron was recounting some stories of Reid’s and _y/n_ listened with rapt attention. Hotch was being careful with his driving as it was near the college, which meant freshman with cars they hardly needed, and those partying a little too hard on Halloween night. They got onto campus proper and _y/n_ directed him to the parking lot. He had asked her if she wanted to take his car and she had reminded him that she had the faculty sticker on her windshield and he didn’t. She teased, “I don’t even think your FBI ID would persuade parking services. They are relentless in their mission.” Hotch had laughed at this and she warmed at hearing it. Aaron’s laugh sounded like a river running over smooth stones to her. It was gentle and mellow. Once they had parked, the pair moved to the _y/s’s/d’s/b_. The doors were still open given that some grad classes were still being held.

Three weeks ago Aaron had asked her if she was doing anything on Halloween and if she wanted to spend the evening with him. As _y/n_ listened to his question, she sighed and said, “I’m holding an extra credit opportunity for my students. We’re watching The Exorcist and then discussing it, but being with you sounds so nice. You could sit with me while we watch it and then hang out at my place after? That is if you don’t have Jack of course. Let’s not terrorize him so early on.” Hotch let out a breathy laugh and said, “Jack’s going to be with Hailey at some school trunk or treat event and he’s staying at her place to sleep off the sugar high. You’d let me sit in with you? In front of your students?” _y/n_ let out a little breath. She hadn’t expected him to say yes. She replied quickly, happily, “Of course I would! I mean most of my students know I have a partner, they might as well see you. And you can tell off students trying to canoodle while Regan gets possessed as have my eyes tightly shut.” Hotch chuckled and said, “Well I’ll leave the disciplining up to you, but I’m happy to be moral support and to calm your fear.” So they made the plans now they were walking the mostly empty hallways and up to the third floor. _y/n_ beeped into the faculty work room to print out the sign-in sheet and a guide for the most scary parts of the film for those who were like her; a scardey cat. As she moved into the small space and logged in to the computer, Aaron leaned against the door frame, filling the space. As the copies printed, she looked up at him and said, “I wish you’d follow me around all the time when I work. You could be a ghost haunting me.” Aaron smiled and said, “If I followed you around you’d soon learn that I’d fail your class. And we can’t have that, now can we?” The copies finished and _y/n_ grabbed them saying, “I’ve seen your writing, Aaron you are more than competent.” Hotch moved out of the way and his hand found hers as they moved to the lecture hall. _y/n_ had reserved the space because she expected a good turnout, the screen was large, and the audio system was reliable. _y/n_ asked Hotch to prop open the door with a chair. While he did this, she moved to the technology at the front of the room to the left of the lectern. _y/n_ signed into her Amazon and pulled up the film, checking the audio levels and turning on the closed captions for those who might need them. Aaron moved to _y/n_ and offered to take her purse for her. She smiled and nodded and he moved to the back of the room. He sat down near the center of the row. He called out across the space, “This good?” _y/n_ nodded and said back in a clear voice that carried in the space, “Perfect sweetheart.”

_y/n_ continued to stand at the front of the room and after another minute or so some students started to ramble in. _y/n_ instructed them to sign in on the sheet near the door. Many of the students had brought friends, roommates, boyfriends, or girlfriends along for moral support, or to laugh at the scary bits. _y/n_ had some casual conversations with some of the students and Aaron watched on with admiration. It was clear to him that _y/n_ had a connection with these young adults trying to figure life out for the first time. A few of the students noticed Aaron sitting at the back of the room, but none of them said anything to him or sat near him. It finally hit 7:30 p.m., and _y/n_ said, “Alright everyone, thanks for coming out. Let’s get going with the movie so you can all go out to the square or you’re older friends’s parties I’m not going to hear about on Thursday. Remember we’re paying attention so we can answer questions after.” Hearing this, the kids let out some laughs and chuckles. _y/n_ nearly forgot about the guides and said quickly, “Does anyone want a sheet with timestamps for the scares? Any other wimps out there like me?” There was silence and _y/n_ laughed at herself and said, “Alright guys, but don’t blame me when you have bad dreams tonight.” With that, _y/n_ started the film and moved to the door. She removed the chair and switched off the lights so the only light remaining was the two glowing exit signs on either side of the room. _y/n_ moved back to him and took a seat on his left side. It was dark and they were in the back, so she slipped her hand into his He gave it a gentle squeeze. True to her word, _y/n_ did close her eyes during some of the more difficult points of the movie. Now and then there would be some quiet chatter from the students. Some got up and opened the door to use the restroom. One student made it back to them to say they wanted to leave early to “go to their dorm.” _y/n_ smiled at the girl and said, “Okay, just make sure you’re signed in.” The teen nodded and said, “Thanks. See you Thursday.” At the end of the film, as Father Karras passes away, Hotch looks over _y/n_’s face. Her eyes were a bit misty. She had warned him that she got emotional at the end. She had looped him in because she didn’t want him to worry that she was so scared that she was crying, or crying for some other unknown reasons. As the credit started rolling, _y/n_ wiped her eyes and she moved to the front of the room.

She paused the movie and said, “Alright everyone, shield your eyes, the lights are coming back on.” Once the lights were on and everyone could see again, _y/n_ moved to the side of the lectern and leaned against it. She started by saying, “I’m going to make this quick because I’m sure there are places you want to be that aren’t here, and because I’m tired.” Hotch half knew that she wanted to be with him too, and it made him smile. _y/n_ asked, “So, what’s the tone of the film?” There was a brief silence, but then a young man said, “It’s camp.” That got a laugh from everyone and then opened the door for the class to bounce some ideas off each other. They spoke about theme and religion, and whether Regan or Chris acted as the final girl. They talked about Father Karra’s characterization and story arc. _y/n_ helped lead the conversation, but let her students talk and express their views. She asked, “So we’ve read the novel and seen the film and talked about the religious symbolism and overtones. So tell me what in the film is transubstantiated?” At this, there was a lingering silence. One girl offered, “Regan’s vomit?” _y/n_ chuckled and said, “Close, anyone else?” Aaron couldn’t help himself, because he also wanted to know the answer, so he said, “Is it Regan herself?” His comment reverberated to the front and twenty-one pairs of eyes turned to him. Hotch felt called out, but _y/n_ pulled the the student’s attention back to her by saying, “Yes very good. Now I can’t claim anything about authorial intent, but in my opinion, Regan is transubstantiation a literal transformation of her body and blood.”

_y/n_ quickly wrapped up the extra credit after that. A few minutes later Hotch and _y/n_ were back outside and headed to her car. They had stopped her her office for her to pick up a stack of papers that needed to be graded. Aaron smiled when he saw a picture of him and Jack pinned to the wall next to her degree. He leaned down and kissed her gently. As they pulled back, he said, “I love you, _y/n_.” _y/n_ hummed happily back at him. In the cold night, they moved across the campus grounds. It was dark and Aaron wrapped an arm around _y/n_’s waist, pulling her close to him. They passed by one of the emergency stations which looked to be broken. He looked down to _y/n_ and asked, “You keep a taser on you when you’re here at night, right?” _y/n_ looked up at him and said, “I carry pepper spray. I haven’t gotten a taser yet, but I will.” Hotch nodded as they walked into the parking garage. Aaron had done loads of research about the safety of the university once _y/n_ had told him where they worked. He had seen too many cases on college campuses to not be concerned for _y/n_’s safety. When they got back to the car, Aaron opened the door for _y/n_. She settled in and he moved to his seat. He turned on the heater and they cruised out onto the street. They talked a bit about the film, and Aaron asked why she cried at the end. What it meant to her. _y/n_ did her best to explain the real love and sacrifice Karras made to save Regan. How seeing Pazuzu restored his faith. _y/n_ made sure to clarify, “Even if a person doesn’t have faith, or that type of faith, I think pretty much anyone can see that he was finally at peace at the end.” Aaron nodded along, listening to her intently. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hotch asked, “So, how did I do Prof? Was my answer to your question actually right?” _y/n_ chuckled and said “I think you were right. Regan’s transformation was literal and it was the answer I was hoping for.” She looked over Aaron, his face lit by the streetlamps and dashboard. He was so beautiful to her and she added, “I give you an A for effort.” Hotch smiled at her comments, saying, “I’m happy to help. And hey, an A. You’ll make a good student of me yet.”

When they got to her place, they moved to the front door and _y/n_ pulled her keys from her purse and let them in. The bowl she had left out that had been filled with candy was now running low, and even though it was late, there weren’t going to be many more kids. _y/n_ moved to the counter and dumped more candy into the container. With that done, she locked the door behind her. Aaron and _y/n_ moved to her room and kicked off their shoes and socks. They changed into comfy clothes before crawling into bed. Three months into their relationship, they both kept a few pairs of clothes in the other’s space. In the bed, they were next to each other, the back of _y/n_’s head resting on his chest, her body positioned between his opened legs. Hotch’s hands moved over her chest and torso before moving lower slowly. He watched _y/n_ in the soft light of her lamps. Seeing her like this, seeing her care for her students, and for him made him nuzzle his face in her hair. It smelled of vanilla. As Aaron’s hand moved to a more intimate place, _y/n_’s intake of breath told him that she enjoyed what he was doing. She had told him many, many times that he was skilled in that area. The thought of her praise had him excited in his pants. Hotch asked in a low voice, full of desire, “Do you think I can get something more for my insightful comments than a hypothetic A?” _y/n_ squirmed a bit with pleasure before moving out between his legs. She moved to face him and kneeled in front of him. As her hand started moving over him and he let out a groan, she said, “For you Aaron, I’d do anything.”

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