#alas now I am at my desk again
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The patient was lying on the operating table when the door slid open.
They didn’t have to be there - the room had more in it than it did a week ago, a comfortable enough chair, a plush little love seat to relax in, a desk to work at. Their wrists weren’t strapped down anymore, nothing new pumping into their veins. They were free to roam around the room and let the oncoming process take place. And yet still, they chose to lay on the table and stare at the ceiling blankly.
At least they glanced over when she entered, attention caught by the sound of her footsteps, not the door opening and closing. They had stopped trying to escape months ago. Thank fucking god for that.
“Unscheduled,” they told her. They had become more monosyllabic as the weeks had gone on. Sometimes, it was a struggle to know what they were trying to say.
This time is easy enough. “I don’t follow the schedule that strictly,” she said briskly. “I can visit whenever I want.”
Their eyebrows rose at the first comment, noting the blatant lie, but they let it pass, eyes drifting back to the ceiling again. Even their arms were spread out, wrists resting exactly where the leather straps would usually be. “Why?”
“I work here, sweetie. I thought you knew that by now.” It would be a concern if not. Some of the others had deteriorating memories at this point in the process, and she was so sick of failed tests.
A head shake. “Why here?” The second word seems to strain them. “Why me?”
Ah. At least their mind was still somewhat present. Brushing down the front of her off-white lab coat, she gave herself a moment to think. The facility had tried to keep each patient isolated, although a lot of them had figured out there were others on account of the screams. This patient was amongst them, having asked her a few months ago how many others there were. Fifty, she had told them, and they had nodded, taken her word as the truth and shut their eyes to listen, trance-like, to the screams down the hall.
The number was much, much lower than fifty now, having dropped lower still a few minutes ago. She was on the brink of failure, bankruptcy, months of agony and wasted resources for nothing. Maybe she was somewhat desperate to keep the final few functioning, progressing. Alive. More willing to spend time around them and their misery, pity, refusal to acknowledge the common good she was working towards.
She couldn’t tell them that, though. With how frail they looked, they may well die on the spot at the news, half from shock, half to spite her. “Figured you could use some company,” she said instead. “How are you feeling?“
They gave her a blank look, the kind that perfectly said, how the bloody hell do you think I’m doing? Then returned their attention to the ceiling. Silence lingered. The overhead lights hummed. Someone hurried past their room. “Tired,” they eventually murmured. “I’m tired.”
“That’s to be expected. You’ve been through a lot.” She gave them her best smile, her politicians smile, and smoothed a clump of brown hair off their forehead. It was something she had done to a lot of foreheads when hands had been strapped down, resistance impossible. Why was she doing it now? Because they were on the table, laid out as if expecting the chemicals to start flowing, the screams to start ripping their throat?
She withdrew before either of them could comprehend it, and their eyes watched her carefully for a uncharacteristically long ten seconds, before their attention drifted again. Their skin felt feverish, dry. It was not a good sign. Keep them lucid, keep them alert. “Is there anything I can get you?”
What may have once been a smile drifted across their face. “Out.”
It was a joke for both of them at this point, so she laughed, and their almost-smile nearly became a full smile, before the effort became too much to maintain. “I’ll ask the boss,” she promised, a joke for her to privately enjoy. “Anything else?”
“News,” they said vaguely.
“On what?”
“Kit.”
Always the same. Maybe that was why she liked them more than most. Their interactions were predictable, repetitive. If they did die, she might not even notice, repeating her half of the script to their unresponsive corpse. “Not much,” she said sombrely, as if she’d checked. “Rumour has it he’s got a new orange now.”
Their eyes shut, brows drawing together, mouth pressed thin. This wasn’t part of their routine. It took her a moment to recognise grief. What was the problem? What had she said? Why was news of another orange so significant?
Right. Of course. They had been an orange once, his orange, trusted sidekick and adoring supporter. This tidbit of nothing went a lot deeper than she expected, and she hesitated, unsure if she should keep digging. On one hand, she thought they had given up on their brother weeks ago, when their patience had run out, when they had accepted he wasn’t going to save them, when their magic and use to him had been stripped from their veins. It was annoying that there had still been a part of them clinging to hope, expecting something from Kit.
On the other hand, she could plainly see that part of them wither and die with this news. She gave them a moment, hands clasped behind her back, then continued. “He’s declared you dead,” she said, her voice soft, delicate. “Says he held you in his arms as you bled out.”
“Course,” they said. She was glad to hear bitterness in their voice, hoarse as it was.
“Rumour has it he’s one of the most powerful on the streets now,” she added, watching their face carefully. This was a lot more than she had planned to tell them, much more truthful than her reports usually were, but it was having some kind of effect, a reaction. Better than most other discussions she had with patients, weepy and aching affairs that left her heavy and frustrated. “He keeps targeting other turfs. He’s gained a lot of ground, I hear.”
It was easy to see how they interpreted the news by how their eyes screwed tighter, brows knitting closer together, going from grief to agitation. Petty in-fighting, domination of the city - it was a slap in the face for someone who had been waiting for rescue. Now they knew their master plan, the thing they had bet their life on, had half worked. Kit was stuffed with potential, a frighteningly powerful mage. He just hadn’t bothered coming back for them.
She expected tears, pleading, defeat. Their words were delightfully measured when they asked, “Orange?”
“Someone from out of town,” she reported. Jaque was the exact town, but they didn’t need to know that. They didn’t need to know a lot of things. “Goes by Clem. Most people say they’re just a source of the colour, that Kit does most of the controlling.”
They hummed an acknowledgement, opened their eyes again, stared at the ceiling. “Lots,” they eventually said.
Although it was as dull as usual, it sounded sarcastic to her ears, like they were mocking her. Nothing infuriated her more than being mocked. She hoped the flush across her cheeks wasn’t obvious. “I don’t know lots about them, no. They’re new to the scene. I have other things to do than gather news on your brother, you know.”
Eyes glanced across her face. “No,” they said. “News.”
“No news,” she echoed.
“Lots,” they insisted. “You.”
“You’re not making any sense, my darling.”
They almost snarled, nose wrinkled, a spark of anger in their eyes. Slowly, carefully, visually, they gathered energy, going pale with the effort, eventually managing to croak, “You have lots of news today.”
A full sentence was impressive at this stage. Hell, single words were impressive - a significant portion of participants had gone entirely mute a week ago. Maybe she was right to put more energy into her remaining patients. “A special treat.”
Another hum. They didn’t seem to care. Their eyes were still open, brown still fixed on the ceiling, but they had started to lose focus, drift from active attention to a freakish half-sleep. Clearly the full sentence had drained them of what little energy they were using to stay awake. She almost felt guilty for it.
More than the guilt was the alarm. The half-sleep that too many participants had adopted was too similar to the stiff clutches of death. Too often, she had held a hand, tried to coax someone into fighting a little longer, felt the exact second their fingers went limp and the odds of her failure went up. A few times, during her scheduled rounds, she had noticed still bodies curled up somewhere, glazed over and perfectly static, and struggled to tell if they were sleeping or dead. More and more often, it was the latter.
This participant was just like any other. Nothing special, beyond the circumstances around how they had arrived. She still didn’t want to watch them die. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Glazed eyes flicked to focus on her. This was not part of their script either. At this point, she’d wish them well, promise to be back later, and leave them be. Still, they considered the question. “Chair,” they finally said.
“You want to go to the chair?” At the tiny nod, she sucked at her teeth, considered the distance. “I’ll get some guards to -“
“No.”
“No? How do you expect to get to the chair?“
“Walk.”
She laughed at that. She couldn’t help herself. “Love, you’re not going to be able to walk to the chair. It’s five meters away. Be sensible, now.”
“Walk,” they insisted. “I can.”
“You think I’ll let you try? Have you killed, too?”
A pause. Consideration. Then, quietly, “Too?”
Shit. Their eyes were fixed on her, watching her reaction, reading the truth in the millisecond of hesitation. Where had that unfocused glaze gone? She licked her lips with the very tip of her tongue, careful to only gloss over her lipstick, arranged an excuse. “Only a few. It’s to be expected, this isn’t -“
“How many?”
It would have been so easy to lie. Maybe they were sharper than the average participant, but she still controlled the flow of information they received. She could make them believe anything if she put proper work into it, including the mortality rate of this trial.
Looking down at them, positioned as if ready to receive further torture, attention fixed on her and hungry for a tidbit of truth, she couldn’t find it in herself to deceive them. “There’s five left,” she said quietly. “Including you.”
They breathed out at that, an audible exhale. “Start?”
“We started with ninety.”
“Fifty?” She shrugged in way of explanation, and they nodded, as if they expected it, understood it. So practical, so uniform. God, she did like them. ��Me?”
Another hesitation. They noticed it. “We’re doing everything we can to keep you alive,” she eventually said, words careful and picked over. “All of you. So, with luck, you should have nothing to worry about.”
“Luck,” they sneered. She could understand their bitterness, given their situation. She also admired their bitterness. So many of the others simply became empty, exhausted. Their anger was a breath of fresh air sometimes.
Other times, it expressed itself in stubborn tendencies. “Chair.”
“I’m not going to let you kill yourself,” she said tiredly.
“Chair.”
“It’s not just your life you’d be wasting. I’m sure you’re used to that, but I can’t afford to allow -“
They barked a laugh, surprisingly loud.“Bitch,” they spat, with great amusement. “I want…”
The rest of their sentence trailed off as they panted for breath, exhausted, determined. She glared venom down at them. They glared venom right back, triumphant and proud. Did she even like them? It seemed to change day-by-day, word-by-word. “Go on, then,” she said, sickly sweet. “Walk to your crummy chair. See how that goes for you.”
To their credit, they hesitated. Maybe they’d buckle, realise she was right, do as she said. It wasn’t too late to forgive them, find the guards, get them to their chair like they wanted. If they apologised, perhaps. Grovelled, definitely. The relationship between them was entirely up to them to decide.
They decided, and strained to move, and she sighed inwardly and settled in to watch them die. The effort of sitting up would be enough to knock them out. Actually walking to the chair would absolutely kill them. If they were lucky, maybe their corpse would land on the plump cushion. The detached part of her that she listened to quite frequently these days was interested in how long it would take for them to give up.
Because they were laying on their back, the process was agonisingly slow. Lacking the immediate strength to simply pull themselves upright, they instead opted to use their arms to hoist up, inch by inch, leaning heavily on their elbows as they gasped for breath. Teeth gritted, limbs shaking, strain intense. She wondered if they’d burn the body today, or leave it for dissection. She wondered if she should send the remains to Kit.
She wondered how in any possible hell her patient had managed to actually get themselves upright.
Conscious and panting, they didn’t have the energy to act smug. They barely had the energy to stay sitting, skin bone white and fingers holding so tightly to the edge of the table that she could see the outline of every single one of their knuckles. As she watched, their head tilted down, chin almost touching their chest, as if the weight of holding it up was too much… before it jerked, jolting up too far, having to settle in place. A visual demonstration of their bodies demands verses their willpower.
It was fascinating to watch. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”
Their eyes latched onto her. Glassy, unfocused, dull. Their chest was heaving with the effort of breathing. Even single words would be near impossible now.
“You’re not going to make it to the chair,” she said, lecture-like. “I’m impressed you got this far, but you need to recognise your limits. You won’t be useful to me if you can’t.”
Something flickered in their eyes, a spark of life in an otherwise empty void. Their jaw tightened.
“I can have you carried to the chair still,” she offered, hands spread in front of her. “You only need to ask. I’ll even take a nod. Just let me know.”
Their head had dipped, exhaustion getting the best of them. She tried not to be disappointed.
“Let’s get you settled down again,” she said gently, moving closer. “Come on, now. You’re tired. Let’s just -“
They lurched suddenly, tipping forwards, and her words cut off as she darted forwards to catch them. At first, she assumed they had reached their limit, passed out. If they hit the floor, the hard tiles would easily shatter their fragile skull. God knows she couldn’t lose someone with the energy to sit up, the fight to resist her better judgement.
It was only when she was holding them up that she realised they were still awake. The lurch hadn’t been the body’s success - they had pushed themselves forwards, the intent to stand, to walk, spurring them onwards.
They seemed surprised to find her in front of them. Most of their weight pressed on her shoulders. They may have been frail, thinned down by the agonies they had endured, but she wasn’t very big herself, and she nearly crumpled under the burden. “Fucking hell,” she snarled. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Or just trying to piss me off?”
A hand rose, slow and gradual. There was no way they were still lucid after all this. She’d be lucky if they woke again after she finally settled them down. Given how feverish their skin felt, it was only a matter of time before this test failed too. Really, she’d wasted too much time in here.
“Maybe your brother was right to leave you,” she spat at them, as they focused their energy on raising their hand up, up, up. “Knew what sort of a fucking problem you are. Be glad I don’t have you put down, you useless piece of…”
Her words trailed off as their hand finally stopped, gently caressing her face. With careful deliberation, they traced a finger down her temple, down her cheek, down her jaw, letting their thumb rest against her chin, and tilting that up. Given how they had fallen, how they had been caught, the two of them were very close, nearly pressed together; their chest against her shoulders, her eyes level with their chin. Her eyes raised up to meet theirs.
They pressed their lips to hers. Slow and gentle, although not by choice, they kissed her, and she stood there, holding them upright. In the shock of the moment, she let the cold, mechanical part of her head take over, figure this out.
More than anything, it was wondering how she could use this. With five participants left, she had the room to be more personal with each of them, and if this was how they wanted to go about it, well. A quiet romance could be nice, and could keep them obedient, loyal. On the increasingly unlikely chance they survived this, maybe she could keep them around for a bit, if they chained their own heart for her. Until she got bored of them. Until they had ran out of use.
The kiss ended, and they drew back shyly; a school child pecking their crushes cheek for the first time. With as much desperation as they could muster, they searched her gaze, looking for permission or allowance or reciprocation. Apparently not finding it, they started to sag against the table, swallowed, parted their dry lips. “Sorry,” they whispered.
For a millisecond, she considered her options. Leave them to this obvious mistake and add the burden of embarrassment to their situation. Allow what had happened to be a one-off, let them both move past this and forget it had happened. Or reciprocate - give them a reason to fight on, to survive, a reason to stay at her side even after the matter.
They were speaking, for fucks sake. Standing on their own feet after forcing themselves upright and speaking in full sentences. If anyone was going to survive this, it was going to be Elan fucking Soot.
She threaded her fingers through their hair, pulled them closer and pressed her lips to theirs. Much faster. Much more forceful. By the time she was satisfied, they were breathing hard, and her lipstick was pressed over their mouth.
Without her saying anything, they went to wipe it off, dazed. Not the blank-eyed dazed expression she was so used to. Something bright, alive. Something that shouldn’t be in this facility.
A red stain transferred to the back of their hand, and they wrinkled their nose at it, an unimpressed grunt making its way up their throat. “Bright,” they said, irked. “Ugh.”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to kiss me,” she said, halfway between flirting and icy.
They smiled, let their arm swing to their side, tilted back, much more weight against their bed. “Thank you.”
“You owe me, lovie.” She let a finger trace along their jawline, let the mechanical voice consider it. There were definitely worse faces to kiss. This could end up being incredibly beneficial to her.
A softer part of her, the part that had made her heart flutter and her face flush, pointed out it could also be beneficial for them. That maybe they had their own mechanical voice, weighing up their options and choosing the best route. That maybe, just maybe, she should be a little bit careful.
Then, they swayed on their feet, let out a long sigh, and nodded. “Guards,” they suggested, a voice like a leafs skeleton. “Now.”
She complied, calling loudly and apparently a little frantically - the guards rushed in with their hands on their batons, ready for trouble, finding instead their employer with a participant collapsed on her shoulder. To their credit, they wasted very little time in sorting the situation out, easing her patient back onto the surgery table, limp limbs arranged as kindly as possible, and ushering her out of the room.
If the guards noticed her lipstick on their lips, neither of them mentioned it.
#colour wip#writing#my writing#original writing#spilled ink#writerblr#writblr#writingblr#fiction#short story#god I really don't know tags#uh hi! Hello! I'm back again! I was gone for about a month and a half. Offline. Trekking the globe seeing more of Europe and all that#alas now I am at my desk again#the allure of being online is Less. I'll probably come back. But for now. Enjoy this?#it's. A lil short story for a lil idea I have that I want to pursue at some point#who knows when#(it's in the running for nano this year)#these are! The two antagonists! They both have names now which is great because when I wrote this piece they didn't#the woman is Bernadette and the other fella is Elan. Elan is named. Good for them#They're perhaps the first instance of me making two characters and before even writing them going 'hey I think they should be romantic'#'but also like. REALLY fucked up romantics'#gestures at this#it's also! The first kiss I've written since I was like. 16! And the first one I've been !!!!! over writing so that's coo#l#ok that's all from me I'm gonna go. Hang out on my bed I think#thanks for reading love you!#trade-marked
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me and my cat are equal levels of traumatized at strangers being in our house tbh
#shes mad at me i can tell#i usually just take her home with me since half her stuff is still over there#but i was only gonna be gone for like 24 hours so i set up the automatic feeder and left her alone#only for. alas. trespassers!!#<- joke. it's fine she probably just hid under my bed. am kinda worried they might accidentally let her outside now.#idk if they even know i have a cat since shes an indoor cat and hasnt snuck out so far#anyway THEY USED MY BATHROOM... WHICH AGAIN... I AM OKAY WITH ITS JUST. A MESS#LIKE I LEFT MY HOODIE CRUMPLED UP ON THE COUNTER AND THE LITTERBOX IS SUBCLEAN...#and all my DISHES are out on the KITCHEN COUNTERS bc i cooked before leaving for the weekend and they had to DRY#and my BED was UNMADE and all my MEDICATIONS were laying around#and i left stuff on the TABLE and my DESK is covered in unorganized notes and i forgot to SWEEP before leaving#AUGH. THE HUMILIATION.
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— “hands off! i’m taken!”
for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption
A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).
it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)
he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.
and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?
“hands off! i’m taken!”
…or so he thought.
regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.
“pardon?”
“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”
were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.
(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)
alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent.
now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…
‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.
then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.
seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”
“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”
“actually, i am.”
you blink at him. “you’re what?”
“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.
(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)
after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”
there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—
quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”
is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?
against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.
“then… may i ask what i am?”
“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”
neuvillette feels as though he could cry.
(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.
despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.
yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)
mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.
if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33
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Riddle's Diary || Tom Riddle
Synopsis - A few days into your last year at Hogwarts, you wake up to find an unusual diary nestled between your class books. After uncovering its secret, the diary very quickly becomes the only thing you can think about.
Warnings - SFW.
Notes - All characters a 18+
Word Count - 4k.
[Caffeinate Me]
You weren’t exactly sure where the diary came from. You had woken up one morning to find it neatly nestled between your class books on your bedside table. You had asked around Hogwarts to see if anybody had put it there, alas nobody had owned up to placing it in your belongings.
The diary itself was plain black and made of leather. The unrecognised name of ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’ was written in gold on the bottom of the very back of the diary. As you studied the diary, your first instinct was to flick through the pages but when you did, you saw they were all empty. It was as if the diary was brand new. Unused. You shrugged and placed the diary neatly back where it had been and went about your day as usual, forgetting all about it until you returned back to your dorm room that evening.
When everybody had gone to bed and you were sure everybody was asleep, you grabbed the diary and made your way down to the common room where you sat at a desk facing a window, looking out at the clear night sky. You admired the diary for the second time today and sighed. “Where did you come from?” You muttered to the diary. You opened it to the middle page and inspected the lining of the book. You were looking for any evidence that there had been pages ripped out, but the lining of the diary remained intact suggesting that there hadn’t been. Just as you were about to close the book and head back to bed, words appeared on the page in front of you:
Hello.
You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut tightly before reopening them and looking at the page the words had appeared on. There was nothing there. “I must be going mad,” you whispered to yourself. You were about to close the diary once more before words appeared on the page again:
No, you’re not going mad.
Then, as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared without a trace. You picked up the diary and looked closely at the page.
My name’s Tom Marvolo Riddle. What’s yours?
You gasped loudly. What sort of magic was this? You watched as the words disappeared from the page before you looked at the ink pot that sat neatly on the corner of the desk you were sitting at. “Am I really going to do this?” You asked yourself before picking up the feathered quill pen and writing your name on the page of the diary. You waited for a few seconds, not sure what you were expecting to happen but just like the words you had seen, your name simply disappeared from the page. In its place was a response:
That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.
The words were gone and the page was yet again blank. Did a diary really just call you pretty? You shook your head once again and allowed the quill in your hand to glide across the page as you wrote your reply:
What is this book?
You waited a few seconds before a response came.
My diary.
“But why would somebody enchant a diary?” You asked aloud to yourself.
So I can live forever.
“Oh,” you frowned at the words on the page. Whatever it was, whoever it was, they could hear you speak? This was magic you had never encountered before, nor even knew was possible. You didn’t respond to the diary and instead looked out of the window as your mind whirled with possibilities. You still didn’t even know where this diary had come from and now you were up in the middle of the night talking to it? When you finally looked down at the page, you saw another sentence:
It’s late. You should go to bed beautiful.
You closed the diary without writing a goodbye. You were shaken and confused. “It is late,” you mumbled to yourself looking at the grandfather clock situated in the corner of the common room. This all had to be one weird dream. You would wake up in the morning to no diary that could hear you or write to you and you’d tell your best friends about it and you’d laugh about the weird dream. Yeah. That would happen. You grabbed the diary and stood up, making your way back to the girls dorm and climbing back into bed. You placed the diary back where it was when you found it and fell into a deep sleep.
You were the last to wake in the morning and the first thing you did was look for the diary. There it was, right where you left it. So it wasn’t a weird dream? You opened the diary and waited for words to appear, but none did. “Maybe I was just so sleep deprived I imagined the whole thing,” you whispered to yourself. You waited for a few more moments and still no words appeared. “What am I thinking?” You groaned and threw the diary onto the bed before getting ready for the day to come.
Your first class of the day was potions. It was probably your favourite class, but as you sat and listened to Professor Snape drawl on about various different potions you just couldn’t concentrate. No matter how hard you tried. Your mind kept lingering back to the diary and the night before. After potions class you had a free period. You tended to sit in the library and study, but yet again you couldn’t concentrate. You found yourself sneaking back to the common room and acquiring the diary, placing it in your bag before going to your second, and final, class of the day. You found yourself peering at the dairy in your bag throughout the lesson through the corner of your eyes, not paying attention to the Professor that was trying to teach you Defence Against The Dark Arts. The lesson was soon over and you evaded your friends to head back to the common room in an attempt to communicate with the diary once more. You sat at your bed, pen in hand, and began to scrawl onto the page in front of you.
Was I dreaming last night?
You waited a second and before you knew it, the words you wrote had disappeared leaving a response in its wake.
No.
Your eyes widened and your heart began to thump desperately in your chest. You shook your head and watched as the words left the page until it was blank once more. You were about to write back about how insane this was but the diary beat you to it.
You think this is crazy, don’t you?
You nodded and cried out, “yes!”
It’s not. It’s magic.
“Well duh,” you groaned loudly.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Your friend's voice came from the other side of the girls' dorm. You panicked and snapped the diary shut before throwing it under your pillow just in time for your friend to walk in.
“I’m fine,” you said, blinking rapidly at her.
“I heard you say ‘yes’ extremely loudly,” she looked around the room realising nobody else was in there but you. “Who were you talking to?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
You frowned and shrugged, making up a quick lie. “Just thought of the answer to some homework I have. Been thinking about it for days and it finally came to me.”
“That’s… good…” Your friend said slowly before backing out of the room leaving you alone yet again. When you were sure she was gone, you grabbed the diary back from under your pillow and opened it.
Ashamed of me?
The diary wrote. You raised an eyebrow and wrote back instantly.
You’re a diary.
That’s not a no.
You scoffed. You weren’t ashamed per say, just confused. It was a damn talking diary! You needed to find out more about the diary before you let people see you with the damn thing. You sat crossed-legged on the bed, pen in hand, and continued to talk to the diary.
So. Tell me about yourself.
The diary responded instantaneously with a counter question:
Why don’t you tell me about yourself, pretty girl?
You rolled your eyes. Out of all the magical things you thought would make a blush rise to your cheeks, a diary certainly wasn’t one of them.
Stop calling me “pretty girl”.
Why should I?
You bit your bottom lip as you wrote back furiously.
You don’t know what I look like.
Are you sure about that?
You paused and looked around the room. Surely your friends weren’t pulling a prank on you with this diary were they? When you didn’t answer, the diary continued to write to you.
Why don’t I show you who I am?
Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest and before you knew it, you were being sucked into the diary. You looked around the room and recognised it as your dorm room. The diary was nowhere to be found and so, not sure what had happened you smoothed down your uniform and began to walk out of the room. Things looked exactly the same and you made your way out of the common room to the grand staircase. There, you saw a man with curly hair and the most piercing brown eyes standing at the bottom of the staircase. He looked on as someone was taken away, covered by a sheet - someone had died? You didn’t recognise the man and his robes were slightly different to yours and it was then that you realised you were in a different time era. The cogs were turning in your head when suddenly you were interrupted by a voice you were familiar with. “Tom?” You looked to see Professor Dumbledore standing in front of the man, shielding his view as the body was wheeled away.
“Tom?” You asked loudly, but nobody turned to look at you. “Tom Marvolo Riddle?”
“What’s happened Professor?” Tom asked Professor Dumbledore who looked on sadly, placing his hand on the man’s shoulders.
As the pair talked, you walked next to Dumbledore and waved a hand in front of his face. When he didn’t acknowledge you, you began to realise what was happening. These were memories. Tom’s memories to be exact. The two began to fade away and suddenly you were left alone in the corridor before you were sucked back out of the diary and onto your bed. You blinked a few times and looked at the diary that lay on your bed. “What the hell was that?” You asked yourself, opening the diary to the first page.
That was a memory of mine, my dear. You see, I used to be a student at Hogwarts.
You raised an eyebrow before picking the pen back up and scribbling back.
Used to be?
Yes, used to be. A long time ago.
“That explains why I didn’t recognise you,” you said, knowing that the diary would respond to your mumbling.
Exactly. Who could forget a handsome face like mine?
The diary replied. You yet again rolled your eyes and scoffed. The diary wasn’t wrong though, he was extremely handsome.
What are you thinking about?
The diary asked. This made you think about what you were thinking about and instantly you shook your head as if trying to shake the thoughts from your brain.
Nothing.
Came your response. You continued to shake your head, not allowing the thoughts to re-enter your mind of Tom Riddle. You bid your goodbyes before closing the diary and placing it back under your pillow - not allowing the diary time to say goodbye.
An hour had passed since you last spoke to the diary and you were already itching to talk to it again… To talk to him again. Despite having your friends around you, sometimes you felt like an outcast. Somebody who didn’t belong. This diary was making you think… Was making you feel. “This is ridiculous,” you whispered to yourself as you walked down the hall to the Great Hall. You opened the large doors to the Great Hall and were met with crowds of people gathering around their house tables, eating away at the large feast that was spread out across the long tables.
“Y/N!” Your friend called, standing up and waving her arms to catch your attention. “Over here!” You smiled weakly at her and walked over to your house table, settling down next to your friend. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you all day!”
“I erm…” You whispered, looking down at your skirt. “I’ve not been feeling well. I’ve been in the girls dorm for most of the afternoon, just resting.”
“Are you feeling better?” Another one of your friends asked you, to which you just nodded a response. “Good.”
You began to eat the food on your plate silently as you continued to think back to Tom Riddle's memory. There was no denying that if that man was Tom Riddle, he was extremely handsome. Charmingly handsome. His brown eyes were inviting as he looked past Dumbledore at the gurney the covered body was laying on. They twinkled as if they were harbouring a deep secret, one you were sure you could get out of the diary if you asked.
“Y/N?” Your friend shouted, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you, grabbing your attention from your thoughts. “I said have you done the potions homework?”
You looked at your friend with a mouthful of food and shook your head. Gulping the food down, you began to speak. “When is it due? I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Like what Y/N?” Your friend hissed silently. “This is our last year for goodness sake! Get your head in the game or you’ll fail your exams!”
You straightened your body and nodded. “You’re right.”
“I know,” she smiled, brushing off her shoulder playfully. You turned back to your food and continued eating in silence as your friends around you chattered and laughed. Before you knew it, you were making your way back to the common room quickly, alone yet again. You walked up the moving staircases, being careful not to get trapped on the revolving stairs as you hurriedly made your way back to your dorm. You got into the girls dorm and slammed the door shut behind you. When you realised you were alone you walked over to your bed and picked up your pillow revealing the leather diary you had been thinking about non-stop for the last twenty-four hours. You could tell in your gut that this diary was going to become a problem for you. You picked it up and sat down on your bed opening the book.
Did you miss me?
Your eyes widened at the words on the page.
No.
You lied.
Liar.
No.
This continued for several minutes before you gave in.
I suppose I missed the company you seem to bring me.
You wrote. Your heart was yet again thumping in your chest as you scribbled the words on the empty, yellow parchment.
How cute.
Cute? You wouldn't exactly call it ‘cute’. It was more sad than anything. Talking to a diary, memories of somebody from the past as opposed to your kind, caring and loving friends. You gripped the diary tightly between your fingers, folding the book ever-so-slightly. Your leg was bouncing off the floor as you thought about what to say to Tom next. Alas you didn’t have to think before more words were scrawled on the page.
How was your day?
“My day?” You mumbled to yourself, grasping the pen tightly in your hand as you began to write back.
My day was okay. I haven’t been able to concentrate on my studies today.
And why is that?
“This damned diary,” you said loudly. You placed the diary, open, next to you gently on the bed and stood up. With your head in your hands, you grasped your hair and pulled ever-so-slightly whilst groaning in frustration.
What is it about my diary that is so distracting to you, my dear?
You looked down at the diary on your bed and sighed. You picked it up again and replied.
It’s like having a constant friend in my bag.
You didn’t have to wait long for Tom’s reply.
A friend?
“Yes, a friend,” you whispered in a hushed voice.
But, that’s a good thing isn’t it? To have a friend with you at all times, no matter where you are. No matter what you do.
You thought for a moment. You supposed it was a good thing, but again you knew this diary was going to become a problem for you if you kept it.
I have to give your diary away.
You wrote on the empty page after much deliberation.
NO!
Tom replied. There was an urgency in his writing. The capitalisation of the letters sent your heart into a frenzy. This diary, this Tom Riddle, had been in your life for roughly twenty-four hours now and you were already starting to feel attached.
Why do you have to give my diary away, pretty girl?
You bit your bottom lip as you ran the pads of your fingers across the parchment. The words dissolve off the page in the blink of an eye. The thought of that handsome boy in the memory calling you a pretty girl brought a blush to your face. You shook your head. You couldn’t be thinking like that. You didn’t know a thing about this Tom Riddle, about this diary.
We should meet.
The words flashed on the page.
“Meet? How could we possibly meet?” You asked the diary, confusion laced your voice.
Magic.
Came the reply. In an instant you were sucked into the diary yet again. You stood up off the bed and brushed yourself off, taking in the room around you: you were in another memory. There was movement in the corner of the room and your eyes shot to the darkness of the room's corner. A figure loomed in the shadows and your heart began to thump, your ears began to ring and your legs began to shake. Were you trembling out of fear? Out of anticipation? You weren’t quite sure.
“I’ve been very anxious to meet you,” a voice came from the shadows. Stepping into the light, the curly haired male from the first memory stood in front of you.
“T-Tom?” You asked, ears still ringing.
The man took a few steps towards you, a twisted smile graced his lips as he spoke confidently in response. “Yes. It’s me.”
“H-How is this even possible?” You asked. You were breathless as Tom continued to stalk towards you.
“It’s simple magic really,” Tom replied. He was now standing mere feet away from you and you could truly admire his features in the girls dorm light. “Have you been as anxious to meet me as I have to meet you?”
You shook your head as your throat ran dry. You gulped down a lump and spoke, trying your best to sound unaffected by him. “You’re just a memory.”
“I may be just a memory, but that doesn’t mean I’m not real,” he whispered, bringing his face closer to yours. He looked deeply into your eyes before his gaze dropped down to your lips and back up to your eyes again. “It doesn’t mean that what I don’t feel is real…”
“What do you mean?” You asked softly.
Tom brought a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath on the side of your face. It was warm, intoxicating almost. You felt your heart flutter as his hand dropped from your hair and to your hand that rested next to you. He held it up to his heart which you could feel beating in tandem with your own. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I feel Y/N.”
You shook your head a ‘no’ as he spoke to you, lips gracing your ear seductively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He pulled away from your face and stood up straight. Brown eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room, staring into your soul. “Liar,” he whispered, a chuckle escaping his lips.
“Tom…” You whispered breathlessly. You sucked in a breath and moved closer to him, touching his shoulders gently with shaky hands. “I can touch you?”
“Of course you can,” Tom smirked. “And I can touch you.” He responded with a hand ghosting your hip, pulling your body closer to his. Your heart was skipping beats at his touch and you looked up at him. “I can even kiss you, if you want me too.” Tom’s hands cupped your face as he brought it closer to his own, gaze flickering down to your lips seductively.
“Why would you kiss me?” You whispered to him, eyes burning into his own. You desperately wanted to look away out of embarrassment, but you kept strong.
“Because I’m in love with you,” he said so nonchalantly.
Your eyes widened and you stepped back at his words, visibly recoiling. “Excuse me?” You asked, raising your eyebrow.
“You heard me,” Tom replied as he dropped his hands from your cheeks and gripped onto your hip, earning a squeak from you. “I’m glad you found my diary.”
“I didn’t find it,” you whispered. “It was placed in my belongings and was there when I woke up the other morning.”
Tom hummed and with his free hand, stroked his chin. “Fate has brought us together then, my love. Together, we can do it.”
You pulled away from Tom’s grasp and looked at him with confusion on your face. “Do… What?”
“Open the Chamber Of Secrets, of course,” Tom replied. The Chamber Of Secrets? What on earth was the Chamber Of Secrets? Your face must have asked the question before you could vocalise it, and Tom chuckled. “You don’t know about the Chamber Of Secrets?” You shook your head. “What are they teaching you at this forsaken school,” Tom said whilst rolling his eyes.
“Magic,” you answered softly.
Tom continued to roll his eyes at your answer but he leaned in closer to you once more, his breath fanning across your face causing your entire body to shiver in anticipation. “Will you help me?” He asked. Without even thinking, you found yourself nodding a simple ‘yes’. Tom pulled away from your ear and smirked down at you. “Good. Good. We shall waste no time and get to work immediately.”
“Okay…” You nodded slowly. You looked into Tom’s eyes and felt your palms get sweaty almost instantly at the way he was looking at you. There was a hint of need there, possession maybe. Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite place it.
“About that kiss,” Tom whispered huskily, stepping one step closer to you so that he was now invading your personal space. “Would you like it?”
Before you even thought about it, your head was nodding a ‘yes’. Tom was grinning at you, licking his lips before he placed them on yours softly. You whimpered the second his lips touched yours but melted into the kiss almost immediately. You felt Tom’s hands rest on your hips, gripping tightly and pulling you flush against his chest protectively. Tom wasted no time in deepening the kiss, pushing you backwards until your back hit a wall behind you. You were suddenly trapped and wouldn’t be able to get away from him if you wanted to. Your cheeks were on fire as you felt Tom bite down on your bottom lip between his teeth before he pulled away and looked at you.
“How was that?” He asked breathlessly. His arms had fallen from your hips and were now resting on either side of your head as he leaned above you against the wall.
“Best fake kiss I’ve ever had,” you whispered, voice low and nervous.
“I think it’s time I return you to your time,” Tom said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I just wish I could keep you here with me… Forever.”
You blushed furiously at his words and before you knew it, you were being transported out of the diary and you were sitting back on your bed in the girls dorm. The diary was once again open and a few words were sprawled on the page for you to see:
Come visit me again soon sweetheart.
#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom marvolo riddle#tom marvolo riddle x reader#lord voldemort#lord voldemort x reader#voldemort#voldemort x reader#harry potter#harry potter imagines#harry potter x reader#harry potter imagine#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle imagines#tom riddle x you#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle fluff
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Bigender asian with pronoun fuckery
synopsis: you're a rising star at godu. just cracked the top ten but a budding relationship with jordan li may bring everything crumbling down
pairing: jordan li x fem!reader
words: 5.2k+
a/n - not sure how i feel about this but i am putting it out there. if this gets enough attention, I can work on another part that goes a little deeper?? I use all pronouns for Jordan but mainly they/them
WARNINGS - swearing and drug use
a groggy groan slips past your lips as you bury your face further into the gentle embrace of the pillow. it is early. too early. you have no clue what time it actually is but whatever the case may be, you weren't ready for the day to start just yet. it takes a moment to realise you're alone in this bed. you hadn't been when you fell asleep. it doesn't bother you too much though. they're probably just getting ready. that is until you hear a curse word muttered quietly; perhaps an attempt to not disturb you or maybe they just wanted to hide their frustration. "what are you doing?" your words half muttered into the pillow.
"rankings are out." that was it? rankings? you sometimes forget how competitive they can be. it's not like you're not interested. you've wanted that top spot since freshman year. alas, golden boy holds that spot and you'd never be a pretty blonde white boy if you tried. this semester you've been working extra hard. Everyone knows you're in the best chance of scoring a city contract if you can break the top ten but the seven? they want the best of the best. sure it's not impossible to be lower and also become part of the team, the deep managed it, but that was an anomaly. most supes just end up as walking advertisements for vought. and as much as you may enjoy the occasional acting class. you weren't here to end up on some CW show or a Netflix special. you were gonna make it into the seven. you were gonna prove to everyone that you are one of the best.
"who cares," you mumble, rolling onto your back and spreading your arms out wide.
"oh, so you don't care that you're now second."
"come back to bed." you urge. a silence seals the room until your brain catches up to what it just heard. did they say second? as in second place? as in one spot away from first? you didn't mishear that. sitting up, you eventually spy a feminine presenting Jordan sitting at her desk, illuminated by the blue glow of their tablet. their short bob falls to one side. a perfect backdrop for such a pretty face "Are you fucking with me?" they don't bother responding just shove the tablet out in your direction. grabbing it you see your school ID photo with a massive '#2' next to it. you blink a few times. scroll down a little. refresh the page. but again it's still there. it was real. "fuck"
"My thoughts exactly," Jordan reacts. you glimpse at them wondering what that comment means. it could merely be a jest or a reflection of their current mood. you take a moment to look at the rest of the list in search of their name. they were no longer top three. you found them sitting nicely at number five. double fuck. you had taken their spot. they're still top ten which most would be happy with but not Jordan. tossing the tablet aside, you drop back against the bed. letting your eyes fall closed. "we have class in like an hour."
"I don't need to go to class. I'm number two now," you press.
"not how that works," A dramatic groan falls past your lips, pulling the covers up over your head. bed sounded better than a morning lecture. you wish they would just join you or leave you be. "get out of my bed." Jordan huffs after a moment. "we're gonna be late." you don't move. you frankly don't care. "if you don't hurry up, no breakfast."
"fucks sake." you whine, emerging from beneath the darkness of the duvet. "fine. I'll let you buy me Jitterbean."
"thought so," they offer you a tight smile. you could never say no to a free treat before class. "chop-chop."
Drink in one hand, pastry in the other, you're feeling brighter as you stroll into class. Jordan trails behind you. they'd been usually quiet on the walk over. you put it down to all the attention you were attracting today. couldn't even walk across campus without people asking for pictures or saying hi. you weren't sure you liked it just yet but for right now it was fine. when you spot cate you offer a scrunched up smile which she quickly returns. you and cate had been friends since day one. something just clicked. "there she is," cate starts as you approach your usual spot in class. "the girl of the hour. you're literally all anyone can talk about."
"aren't i always," you tease.
"we're going out tonight"
"are you asking-" you begin as Dean Shetty strides into the room. guess brink was out today. "or telling me?"
"telling," cate's smile quirks up before she turns to focus on the class. guess that was the end of that conversation.
you linger by your desk as everyone else filters out of the room after class. Dean Shetty requested a word. you can't imagine what it's about. surely she isn't that bothered by your attempts at chatting through her lecture. you offer up an awkward little smile as you push off the desk you were leaning against; slowly making you way across the room. "so what have I done wrong?"
"you mean other than talking through the entire class," you internally cringe a little. maybe she was bothered by all the whispering. she watches you for a moment before continuing. "it is nothing like that. don't worry."
"then why am I here?"
"I just thought we should have a little chat." your brow furrows. what did you and the dean of an entire university have to discuss? was this about your ranking? was she about to tell you there had been a mistake? "I believe congratulations are in order- such an extensive jump in ranking, you must be proud."
this felt like a conversation that could have been an email. "sure. thanks." you shrug. you're not really sure what to say. of course, you're proud. you were the second highest ranked student in a school of exceptional kids. "is that all?"
"no," her head shakes a little. I wanted to make sure you understand the gravity of the position you're in." when you don't respond she decides to just continue. "being a superhero is about more than just your abilities. it's also about how you present yourself. people care about you. they wanna know what you're doing. who you're hanging out with. One minute you're taking a picture with a nice girl you met at a party the next you're fighting nazi allegations for hanging out with a white supremacist. do you get what I'm saying?"
you shrug. "don't hang out with nazis, got it."
"I'm saying you need to look at yourself more like a brand. Be careful about what you say and who you spend your time with. you're the sum of the people around you."
"I know. I took branding." everyone knew how this worked. being a good person only took you so far and if homelander was anything to go off, that doesn't even matter that much. it's all about how you market yourself. it's about how many followers you have. how much attention you can get. inevitably, how much money can you make for Vought? Dean Shetty smiles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"you do want to be number one, correct?" you nod a little. "I want to help you get to the top but only if you wanna help yourself."
"what about Luke?"
"he is far from my concern right now." what did that even mean? "so?"
you hesitate. you did want this but you weren't entirely sure what you were agreeing to here. If Dean Shetty can help you secure first place though, maybe it was worth the risk. she was an expert here. should you even bother questioning why the sudden interest in you? "I want this."
"Good," her smile seemed more genuine now. "I know you can go far, just keep in mind what I said."
"I will," you start edging towards the stuff you left on your desk. "thanks."
"also try listening during lectures. I'm sure you and Miss Dunlap can talk some other time."
"Sorry." with that you practically run out of the classroom before she can continue talking.
it's a particularly chilly night smushed in the back seat of an old car. bright lights zoom past the window and music blasts through the speakers. you're not really paying attention to the noise around you. it's a mess of meaningless conversation. Dean Shetty's words play over in your head. She certainly would not approve of this little venture out into the night past curfew; what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Jordan eventually pulls your attention; in his hand, he holds two small red pills. you don't really question it before popping one into your mouth. a second for later. tonight was gonna be fun or if nothing else you can abuse enough substances to pretend. the secret location is just a massive warehouse. on the outside, you'd think it any old thing. inside you find massive tanks of rainbow fish, long sweeping curtains, jester-themed masquerade masks and other eccentric decor. it is the most random selection and yet it works so well. creates the perfect balance of sexy and mysterious but inviting. you find yourself in a booth with your friends all around. "so how's being number two going for ya?" Andre asks. "feeling the pressure yet?"
"I don't know," you shrug. "people are weird."
"what do you mean?" Luke questions.
"Dean Shetty said some things to me after class."
"-I come bearing gifts." Jordan appears, now in their feminine form with a couple of drinks followed by Marie. "courtesy of the young gentleman at the bar."
"What did Dean Shetty say?"
"it doesn't matter." you shrug it off. "two will never be one right."
"has it not hit yet?" Jordan wonders.
"i know what it's like to suddenly have all this pressure on you but try not to think about it much," Luke reassures you. "just keep doing what you're doing. you've got this."
"my guy. you're supposed to be happy here," Andre leans forward slapping his hand against your leg. "we're out here celebrating you, dude. cheer up."
"I'm plenty happy," you grumble sinking further into your seat. you appreciate their attempt to cheer you up but it's honestly not needed. you're happy to be in second place even with all the newly founded pressure; just a little confused about what was expected of you. "ecstatic even. let's talk about something else."
your head feels fuzzy. nothing feels real anymore. but it's good. great even. you feel so fucking good. like you've rid yourself of every lingering thought that wrapped itself around your body. you're light. you're free. the shimmering blue of the giant fish tanks is so mesmerising; you almost want to climb in but instead, you watch. colours morphing and shifting before your eyes. back and forth. back and forth. you jump a little as something touches your shoulder. "here you are." their words seem distant; muffled even. "you good?" you nod a little continuing to stare at the fish. two hands slip around your waist and connect in front. you feel their body press into yours from behind. you know it's Jordan. you know they're masc. You know them well. their smokey cologne. the way their body feels around you. the subtle differences between both forms. taller. bigger. firm. you let out a content hum. it's a rarity for such open affection. "what are you doing?" whispered in your ear.
"Just watching the fish,"
"why?"
"do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a fish?" you wonder softly. "to just swim around all day without a care in the world… no complex family systems. no pressure to be the best. just… swimming and pretty colours." their chuckle is temperate. affectionate. it almost seems like they somehow get closer.
"you're fucked, huh?"
"I'm good. I'm great," you respond. they just chuckle again, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. your relationship with Jordan was hardly one of romance. you have slept together. a few times actually. and some kind of feelings are there; at least for you there are but you're not dating. you're just… having fun. maybe you want more. who knows? you don't. would they even want more? probably not. you'd like it. maybe. doesn't matter. they make you feel warm. safe even. and that's all that really matters.
"shall we get you a drink?" you nod a little. "yeah?"
"yeah," you repeat nodding more eagerly. a dopey smile settling on your lips as you let your head fall back; nuzzling against him. "something fruity, please."
"let's get you something fruity," arms vacate your waist replaced with a hand in yours.
"bye fishies," you throw a wave back. "say bye Jordan."
"Absolutely not." they interlock your fingers before leading the way back into the turbulent crowd of the club.
"you're no fun." you groan playfully. weaving through the mass of people back towards the bar, you come across cate. as you approach, Jordan let's go.
"you found her then," shouted over the heavy bass and mess of voices.
"she was alone staring at the fish tanks," they respond.
"the fish were really pretty," you contribute with a bright smile.
"you gotta stop running off, silly."
"but the fishies-"
"I know they're pretty but still," cate continues. "do you wanna come dance?"
"hmmm… yes." you respond brightly. "jordan's gonna get me a drink. jordan get cate one too."
"yeah Jordan, get cate one too." cate repeats playfully. her hand slides into yours and she pulls you towards the dance floor. it's a lot of blurred colours as you sway and move alongside the blonde. she wears a playful smile and smells so good. really sweet. like freshly baked cookies. "are you good?"
"mhmm,"
"you sure?" it's so loud out here. there are so many people around you. it's hard to pick up what is being said.
"I am so good, cate," you respond loudly. "I mean definitely fucked but yeah. are you good?"
"yeah," she nods. "I'm-" the rest of her sentence is impossible to comprehend.
"what?"
cate places her hands on your shoulders bringing you to a stop as she leans in extra close. "i said i'm proud of you."
"you're starting to sound like my mom," you joke. she playfully hits your arm. "but thank you."
"i think you could actually take luke's spot."
"i definitely can." you declare proudly. "dean shetty offered to help."
"really?" cate seems shocked by the idea. "why?"
you shrug. "i'm gonna be in the seven one day." you yell loudly. nobody cares. everyone is being loud. it'd drowned out by everything else. cate stares at you for a moment before letting her smile return.
"fuck yeah, you are," cate shouts. your smile brightens. fuck yeah, you are.
your head pounds with the weight of your bad decisions. maybe you went a little too hard. Nausea settles deep in the pit of your stomach. you think you're gonna throw up. you don't. you breathe deeply through it. a long groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back; stretching out your limbs as far as they go to very little relief. A pain radiates from your left leg. god only knows why. you're just a little achy. how did you even get here? the last thing you remember is dancing with Cate; having fun.
"she's alive," the voice catches you off guard. it sounds like… wait. your eyes finally focus on the person in the room who definitely wasn't your roommate. that black hair. that pretty face. the effortless expression of too cool to be here. jordan li is still in the exact same outfit as last night. why were they here? "how's our newest celebrity?"
there were many ways you could answer but your brain could only come up with. "shitty."
"I bet," they approach the end of your bed, holding out a glass of water. "here."
you slowly push yourself up into a seated position. trying desperately to ignore the intense pressure building in your head. "why are you here?" you ask, accepting the glass and taking a long, big gulp.
"Jordan stayed all night," your roommate, Beth, interjects. By her tone, she was not happy with your newfound company. "would have been nice to know."
"I'm allowed to have people in our room, Beth." you hand the glass back to Jordan before falling back down against the bed. rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger. "I wanna die."
"tell me next time." Beth continues to argue. "instead I wake up to a stranger in our room."
you groan loudly. this was too much talking for your poor delicate head to handle right now. "I'm right here, guys," Jordan insists. "I literally spoke to you last night."
"I'm making a point." your roommate argues. "I'd like a heads up."
"gooooood! okay- sorry," you groan. you really don't care this much
"Okay, well, I gotta go," Jordan hums. "wasn't supposed to stay this long just wanted to make sure you're cool."
"I'm fine. go," you wave a dismissive hand as your eyes flutter close. "thanks for getting me home."
"any time," their weight leaves the bed and you roll onto your side to face the wall. pulling the duvet closer around your body. "I'll text you- bye Beth."
"bye Jordan." you hear the door click and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. it's preferable to the loud conversation that just happened. it's a relief to your head. you just want to go back to sleep. "they must really like you."
urgh. you don't want to talk anymore. "yeah, jordans cool."
"no, I mean, they like you," Beth continues on. you bury yourself further into your cocoon of pillows and duvet. "stayed the whole night just to keep an eye on you. I said it was fine- you'd be fine but they insisted."
Jordan insisted? just how fucked up were you that Jordan li of all people would stay the night just to make sure you were okay? you guys were good friends but most of the time they were either bullying you or treating you like a child which is like a subset of bullying you. you remember them wrapping their arms around you as you watched the fish last night. you've seen Jordan's softer side obviously but yeah. "we're just friends, dude."
"All I know is that Jordan li, as far as I've seen and heard, would not do that for just anyone. they're into you."
"sure. fine. whatever." you growl. you just wanted this conversation to end. Jordan was cool but if you think about this for too long your head is gonna explode. right now, sleep was what you needed. "Jordan Li is in love with me. I'm going back to sleep." it's hard not to think about what Beth suggested. that Jordan was into you as more than just a friend and occasionally fuck buddy. is that something you should talk about? What if Beth was wrong and you bring it up and it makes things super weird? you can't handle that. you have like a million classes together, you would never be able to escape them.
it was a bright sunny day in the quad of Godolkin University. you sit in the courtyard. a laptop, criminology textbooks and a water bottle spread across the table. you have an essay due in a few days. you had sat down to work on this essay multiple times with a beautiful blank document and many hours on TikTok to show for it. "hey," your TikTok time is interrupted by none other than Jordan Li. you had not seen them since that night or morning. you hadn't really spoken either. you weren't avoiding them by any means. you were just busy and they hadn't seemed too eager to talk so. "hey," they say after a moment. "how's the essay going?"
"so great," you flash a smile. "I've written so much."
"that good, huh," they joke awkwardly taking a sip of their coffee. you just hum in response. you need to get this done. no time to add Jordan to the list of distractions. after a few moments of silence, they speak up again. "I was hoping we could talk
"Can this wait? I really need to get this done."
"I guess…" Jordan trailed off. you look at him for a moment. he seems disheartened by your request.
"what's up?"
"it… doesn't matter. don't worry." a small smile settles on their lips. "I should go."
"you sure?"
Jordan pushes up from their seat. "I'll see you later."
that was weird. definitely something you need to come back to later when you're not working on a deadline. for now, you had an essay to, at the very least, start.
"Have you spoken to Jordan recently?" you ask Cate as you slide into a booth at the on-campus Vought - a - burger. the smell of deep-fried food hangs heavy in the air and you know damn well this table is probably gonna be sticky as hell. "I feel like they're ignoring me."
"What makes you think that?"
"the fact that they're quite literally ignoring me. I've text them a couple times and nothing. even in class, they can hardly look at me." you reach into the bag to pull out the food; placing it on napkins in front of you. cate hands you your drink in exchange for her order. "I feel bad. they tried to talk to me the other day but I wanted to get my essay done."
"they've seemed fine to me but I've been working on a project for my hero management class." Cate shrugs. "is this about what happened the other night?"
"what happened the other night?" you questioned, popping a fry into your mouth. it actually tasted fresh and salty; guess you came at the correct time. you hate it when they're all soggy.
"I don't know if it's my place to say- you were pretty high."
"did I do something… bad?" you didn't remember that night but you never imagined you would ever do something inappropriate.
"no. not bad." you can tell she regrets bringing this up; whatever this is. torn between wanting to help and not overstepping boundaries. She is about to continue when two girls approach the table. freshmen you presume. you've never seen them before.
"Can we get a selfie?" the taller of the two requests. you frown a little.
"we're actually trying to have a private con-"
"it'll just take a minute," they turn around and hold the camera out, snapping a picture before you have a chance to react. "thanks." they scurry off almost immediately. you'll probably find yourself tagged in a picture on Instagram later. it had been happening a lot recently; so much so that you had to turn notifications off.
"the fuck?" you share a confused look with Cate. "people are so rude."
"they're just excited. you're basically a celebrity to them," Cate chuckles.
"do you think Jordan hates me now?" you wonder bringing the conversation back to Li.
"it's probably just because of the rankings."
"you mean because I took their spot?"
"Jordan has always been pretty intense when it came to rankings. they've wanted that top spot for as long as I've known them." Cate explains, hiding her mouth as she shoves more food into her mouth. "must suck that you just jumped to two and have the dean in your corner no less." you never really considered how Jordan must be handling all this. you knew they'd be a little upset but this seemed extreme.
"I never really thought about that," you sigh softly. "should I apologise?"
"I don't know," Cate resumes, biting the head off some fries. "if you think it'd help."
"I don't know why they didn't just tell me that when we first found out," you frown a little. "they were a little distant but they seemed cool when we went out."
"maybe you should just try talking to them," Cate suggests, picking up her drink. She takes a swift sip before continuing. "if it's about rankings or the other night- I don't know. only Jordan does."
"what happened the other night?" you ask again.
"ask Jordan."
"I'm asking you, Cate."
"you were just a lot and said some things."
"Cate!" you huff, falling back. you know Cate well. you know when she's avoiding something. "I know you're being cryptic so I give up on it."
"it's just not my place. it's between you and Jordan. I don't wanna get in the middle." Cate presses sharply. "did you get your essay done?"
"no," you shake your head. "I ended up getting an extension- how am I supposed to speak to them when they're ignoring me?"
"i don't know- can we please talk about something else?" Cate pleads.
"Sure," you hum softly. taking another fry you dip it into some sauce. "let's talk about how I'm about to fail criminology."
you text Jordan that you're coming over. It wasn't a question but a statement. no option to refuse. you needed to sort this out and being direct was the best approach. did every inch of your body buzz with anxiety as you made your way towards their dorm room? yes. but it beat constantly thinking about every little interaction you had with Jordan in the past week trying to figure out exactly what you had done wrong. the only blank spot was that night and Cate had unintentionally convinced you that you had done something absolutely awful. maybe you told them you hate them or invalidated their identity in some way? fuck. you swallow hard staring at their closed door. you shake out the nerves before knocking. knock. knock. knock. and the door swings open to reveal Jordan. "hey," they hum before retreating into the safety of their dorm. shutting the door behind you, you step inside the all too familiar space; you had been here a great many times and yet today there was a weird vibe. it felt foreign. cold even. "so what did you wanna talk about?" for a split second you almost forgot why you were here. you turn to Jordan who is sitting on the couch, a laptop thrown off to the side now. your eyes fall to the homelander Vought-a-burger toy that has somehow become a staple of this room. leader of the seven. currently facing major allegations. "you good?"
"Are you mad at me?" you blurt out. "is it about the rankings? I know they mean a lot to you and I basically took your spot so I get it if you're mad. it's a little unfair because I've always wanted this too but like I get it." your rambling but you can't help yourself. you need to get this all out as quickly as possible before your brain catches on and you chicken out. "And I'm sorry about the other day, I just really needed to get my essay done. I ended up getting an extension because I was so stressed out about it, I just couldn't start." you can't bring yourself to look at them. "or if I did something shitty on that night out. I'm sorry. it was fucked-"
"whoa dude, chill out," Jordan ultimately interrupts. "you're talking a lot." you dare a glance at them. their face is pretty neutral so you have no clue what was going on in their head. "what are you even asking?"
"why are you avoiding me?" you ask. "I've clearly done something wrong."
a heavy sigh leaves their lips as they fall back against the plush fabric. "I'll admit I was a little annoyed with the rankings at first but I'm working on it. this is like a really big deal for you."
"so you're not mad at me?" you sound so pathetic. an even bigger sigh leaves their lips. you're not sure what that means but nobody sighs that heavily for good reason. they push to their feet, crossing the room towards you.
"I'm not mad at you," they say softly as they approach. for a second they hold your gaze as they linger close but then they flicker away. "I'm just… confused."
"About what?" they take a step closer. so close. too close. their hot breath pricks at your skin but you don't dare move away. you almost feel drawn to them.
"Is this okay?" they say quietly.
"Are you only doing this so we'll stop talking about it?" their head shakes just a little.
"no," their hand graces over your neck and up to the bottom of your jaw. Their thumb gently brushes your skin, sending a chill down your spine. there would always be something about Jordan Li that made you melt inside. when they're here and so close, you almost forget all your worries. the way they look at you. like you're the only person in the world. a feather-like embrace is enough to send you spinning. "I don't think I can just be your friend anymore," whispered against your lips. "I… like you too." they pull back.
"Jordan,"
"I need you to say it- I need you to say it sober so I don't feel like a fucking idiot," say it sober? when did you say it in the first place? maybe this was what Cate was talking about. the thing you couldn't remember. you admitted to having feelings for Jordan. fuck.
"I…" you trail off, the words are caught in your throat. this is gonna change everything?
"It's cool," they declare loudly, letting their hand fall as they away. "I get it."
"no Jordan-"
"no it's fine. you were fucked. it didn't mean anything- I shouldn't have said anything."
"Jordan," you say louder, reaching out for their hand. a deep regret fills your stomach. you liked Jordan. they meant a lot to you and you were throwing it all away because you were scared; terrified even. if this doesn't work out then you ruin everything. there's no coming back from this.
"don't," they yank their hand away. "please don't. I don't want your pity."
"It's not pity."
"I don't get you." they huff. "you're all over me and then you want nothing to do with me. you tell everyone you like me but then… nothing? it's… confusing-"
"Jordan just- stop please," you say loudly. "I… like you, okay?"
"don't say things you don't mean."
"I mean it," you say a tad more confidently. "I like you." you try to reach for them again. they let you take their hand. " i don't know what it means exactly but I do… like you… too." you squeeze their hand slightly. it's warm and fits so perfectly in yours. they turn back to you with a smile. a small genuine smile that fills you with butterflies. they really did mean so much to you.
"so… now what?" they ask.
"I don't know." you pursed your lips, shrugging your shoulders. "but I do have to go."
"Seriously?"
"I have a meeting with Dean Shetty." you express. "I'm sorry. She wants me at some dinner so."
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thank god for dr. spencer reid
a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))
summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?
pairing: spencerreid x reader
warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!
My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me.
I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck.
“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her.
“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”
My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.
“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-”
“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh.
“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.
“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman.
He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”
I just nod back, a small smile on my lips.
“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist.
“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious.
“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now.
“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles.
“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”
“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.”
“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes.
“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him.
“You are.”
“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.
“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid.
#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#bau imagine#bau team#criminal minds x you#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#fanfic#fanfiction#criminal minds imagine
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today's 'technology is in such a hell state now that I genuinely feel compelled to scream about it daily' moment was my trying to print and scan a document, with my printer/scanner (which, I must have you note, despite my pleading with the seller did not come with usb wire option available, and none of the others did).
Predictably, having been used on the day of purchase and not since, the printer did not work despite being less than 6 months old. Searching for why this could be led me down a rabbit hole that eventually resolved into how the print cartridges for this model just dry out and clog up if you don't use them every single week. you know. what a normal thing to happen. but don't worry! just soak the bottom in a shallow bath of warm water for 30 minutes dry it off and reinstall it that'll make it work
8)
you what.
Anyway, it did work. I print the test sheet, boom, what should have worked before at least worked now. And there was Much Rejoicing.
alas. alas. how shortly lived it was.
Now I naturally move on to print the document, sign it, and scan the newly signed document. The document from my pc. With this printer/scanner which is sitting on a desk directly NEXT TO my pc.
Which. will not. connect to my pc.
I plead. I bargain. I follow the wizard twice, thrice, but it is a cruel wizard, a tormenter from the nether world. "Type in the IP address!" He taunts me, cackling maniacally as I do, weeping over my staggering fingers attempting to puzzle the code out of the 1 inch touch screen, numbers and dots jazzing into nonsense in my field of vision as I loose all comprehension of what the symbols mean. The printer cannot be found. The printer does not Exist. The printer, at this moment, the sole focus of my gaze, decides it is bored and goes to sleep, therefore ending the whole attempt of communicating with it just as the 938678th loading bar had reached its zenith and I, ever the hapless Sisyphus, watch my dignity flatten into a pancake of wordless, stark-eyed bewilderment verging on hysteria as my boulder crashes back down the hill as the wizard begins to drag me back to the beginning of his never ending Labrynth, to be eaten by and become the ouroboros yet again but no! I will not enter back! I shall bite down, break my scales, and end this cycle of tyrannous misery!
anyway that's why I ended up taking a shitty photo with my phone's camera and I'm doctoring it in CSPaint to look like I scanned it with the SCANNER THAT I AM ABOUT TO THROW OUT OF A SECOND STORY WINDOW
#I thought you said keys!#why the fuck would I say keys?!#anyway#HELL WORLD.#technology#im gonna actually explode lads it's gonna happen#this is my Joker moment#I've had several before I know but listen
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gold star (Hotch x Teacher!Reader) -- one shot
Been working on this one for a hot minute oops. Just wanted to say thank y’all for being patient with me always (and we literally hit 5.7k followers even while I’ve been so inactive???? what????). Here’s a longgg dose of fluffy angst <33
Edit: I’m a dumbass and queued this for the wrong day
Summary: You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not. (Kinda enemies to lovers?)
Warnings: angst! talks of parent death, therapy, bad parenting/emotional neglect, y’know the works. Lots of fluff tho to make up for it. And a happy ending!
WC: ...5.7k-ish
I love my job. I love my job. If you say it enough, you’ll believe it. I love my job. You glance at the clock and see your next parent is late. I love my job.
You do love your job, you really do. What you hate are parent-teacher conferences that you’re required to do. Especially when the parent is late. After having to reschedule at the last minute. Twice.
If you didn’t have a genuine concern to discuss with Jack’s father, then you wouldn’t be here still. But alas, you care for Jack more than your annoyance at his father.
Jack Hotchner is a sweet kid. Genuinely wonderful. After his mom’s sudden death a few years ago, everyone worried about him. You’re friends with Julia, who was his kindergarten teacher just a few months after it occurred. Despite being a teacher for almost a decade that year, Julia had never encountered this situation, so she looked to you for help. You lost your mom when you were in first grade, so you were able to give her more helpful tips that actually work.
Now, you have the pleasure of having Jack in your second grade classroom and he truly is an amazing student. You only wish you could share this information with his father who seems to be on another plane of existence every goddamn--
A knock on your classroom door frame makes you jump.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron Hotchner rushes out, quickly dropping his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, standing up from your desk chair, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, and please, it’s Aaron,” he smiles sheepishly, walking over. He towers over the tiny desks as he maneuvers past them to yours. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. He has a firm grip, but his hands are soft. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I got caught up at work--”
“I figured,” you reply, sitting back down. You pull up your laptop and begin typing in your password. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make this quick. I should’ve left an hour ago.”
“Oh, sorry, am I that late?” he flicks his arm to look at his watch. He sighs. “I apologize.”
You hum. “Our conference was scheduled for 4:15.” You glance down at the clock on your screen. “It’s almost six.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Would it be better to reschedule?”
“Nope,” you shake your head. “You’re already here.” And if you reschedule, then this might happen again, so you’d rather do this now while you’ve got him here. “Fortunately, Jack is doing really well. He’s struggling a little with math, but he’s not the only one, and we’re working on it. He’s made a few friends, I know we discussed that last time. He’s breaking out of his shell, I think.”
“That’s good,” Aaron says, smiling a little. “That’s really good to hear.”
“Is he doing any extracurriculars?” you ask. Last time, when you voiced your concerns to Aaron about his son being a little too quiet and shy, you suggested asking if he’d like to do a sport, or play an instrument.
“He’s doing soccer,” Aaron says.
Your eyes widen. “Oh!”
“You look surprised,” he presses.
“I guess I didn’t expect Jack to…want to do a sport,” you shrug, checking your notes for the conference to stall.
What you really wanted to say is that you didn’t expect Aaron to listen to you. Given his track record, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d follow through and actually ask his son about trying a sport, let alone go through with signing him up for one.
“Do you have any questions for me?” you ask, closing your laptop lid. Aaron has been studying your face in this lull of silence, and it’s unnerving.
“I don’t think so,” he finally says.
“Okay,” you nod, not surprised. “I did have one more thing. I know I said Jack is breaking out of his shell, and he is, but he seems…down. Is something going on at home?”
Aaron sighs. “It’s getting closer to the anniversary of his mom’s death.”
That tugs on your heart. “Oh, I see. Alright.” You pause. “Uh-- If you don’t mind me asking, is he seeing a counselor or a therapist or anything?”
“He’s not, not currently,” Aaron says.
You blink. You shouldn’t really be surprised, but you are. “Has he at all since his mom’s death?”
“Briefly, right after she died.”
“Okay.” You clear your throat. You cannot yell at a parent. That’s unprofessional. “I know it’s not my place, but I’d highly suggest finding him someone. Especially right now as the anniversary is getting closer, and as Jack gets older. I would suggest our school counselor, but I think Jack would do better with someone better equipped for his situation.”
Aaron stares at you, nodding slowly. “Alright.”
You lean over and open a drawer, grabbing the handout specifically for times like these. Given the area the school is in, parents are typically able to pay for services like these, and are more willing. You know it’s because they don’t have the time to deal with their children’s emotions, so they pawn them off on someone else, and claim it as a good deed.
In a way, you’re grateful the children are able to receive help that you didn’t because your dad couldn’t afford it. You just wish the kids also received support from their family, not just from doctors.
“Here’s a list of great pediatric psychiatrists and therapists in the area.” You hand Aaron the packet and he takes it gently, his expression unreadable. Parents are always so weirdly defensive about this. “Many of our students see someone from that list, so I trust that one will be a good fit for Jack. If you want some help narrowing it down, I can help.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll look into this.”
I hope so, you want to say, but he doesn’t sound too sincere. “Okay,” you smile softly instead. “That’s all I have, unless you have any other questions?”
He shakes his head. “No, I think-- I think this is good.”
“Alright, well,” you pause, opening Jack’s folder. “I just need you to sign here, so the school knows we met.” You slide the form and a pen across the table.
Aaron signs swiftly, a signature born from frequent piles of paperwork. You know he does something in the government, you’re just not sure what. Nearly every parent here works in the government, though, so that’s not a remarkable conclusion to have made.
“Thank you,” you say, taking the signed form and sliding it back into Jack’s folder. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”
“You too,” Aaron says, standing up to shake your hand again. He’s so formal, you almost forget. He clutches the packet in his free hand, and you wonder if it’ll end up in the recycling bin at the end of the hall.
After shaking your hand, Aaron apologizes again for his tardiness, and then leaves your classroom. The clock on the wall says it’s just past six. A record for one of the latest nights you’ve been here.
Gathering your things, you do some last minute checks around the classroom before heading out, locking the door behind you.
As you reach the exit doors at the end of the hall, you peer into the trash and recycling bins. Both are empty, no signs of your pediatric psychiatrists packet.
At least that’s a win.
+++
A month or so later, you’re waking up early to go to a soccer game. If it weren’t for your kids asking you (loudly and enthusiastically) to come to their game, then you wouldn’t be awake right now on a Saturday.
Julia, at least, is coming with you, and so is Kate, a fellow second grade teacher whose classroom is across from yours. Julia is coming to see Jack, and Kate also has a few students who asked her to come.
The three of you stop for coffee before going to the park where the soccer games are held. Walking across the field, you find an empty space on the bleachers and sit down, looking around for your kiddos.
To your complete and utter surprise, you spot Aaron Hotchner -- of all parents.
You quickly avert your eyes, looking around some more. You haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron since the parent-teacher conference as Jack is usually picked up and dropped off by his Aunt Jessica. Jack has seemed a little more present and happy, but you have no idea if that means that Aaron actually sought help for his son.
Even more embarrassing, you’ve worried about your job since that conference. It’s always a gamble, offering parents advice. You never know what will cross a line and equal an angry phone call to the principal followed by a swift withdrawal of their child from your class. Not every parent has always been so keen on your attention to your students’ emotional wellbeing.
“Don’t look, but one of the dads cannot keep his eyes off of you,” Julia whispers.
“Which one?” Kate asks, then she spots him. “Oh, him-- He’s tall. Wait, is he…?”
You glance over and sure enough, the one in question is Aaron. He can’t tell that you’ve looked at him, though, thanks to your sunglasses. “That’s Jack’s dad,” you say, looking away again.
“I knew he looked familiar,” Julia murmurs. “I’m not used to him out of the suit. His hair is longer too, isn’t it?”
“Why would I know?” you counter, taking a sip of your coffee.
“Is he the one you mouthed off to?” Kate asks, nudging your arm.
You scoff defensively, “I didn’t mouth off--”
“She told him to put his son in therapy,” Julia explains with a prideful smirk. “Rightfully so, too. I would’ve done the same if I ever saw him.”
“Damn,” Kate chuckles. “Let’s hope that he took your advice.”
“And that he isn’t pissed at me for it,” you mutter. “I haven’t heard anything since.”
Kate and Julia share a look before Julia says, “He’s definitely not mad.”
Finally, you give yourself the chance to look over at him, and to let him see you looking.
You’ll admit, it is weird seeing him out of the suit, let alone in short sleeves. You’ve never seen his arms. They’re…nice. Muscular, more than you expected. Not that you’ve wondered about his arms, though. Or any part of him. Because he’s Jack’s dad, so you should not be thinking about him this way.
Still, you indulge, just for this moment. He keeps your eyes only for a minute before his attention is drawn elsewhere to the screaming kids practicing their warmups (if that’s what those can be called). He’s smiling from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen. The tiny smiles you managed out of him during conferences hardly ever looked genuine. This, though, this one is.
“You should talk to him,” Julia whispers, nearly scaring you shitless. You completely forgot where you were for a minute.
“No,” you shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “That’s practically asking for him to yell at me.”
“He won’t do that,” Julia chides.
“Well, I don’t know,” Kate grimaces. “Parents are finicky. I got yelled at last year by one who I thought was the sweetest ever. Until her kid didn’t pass a science test.”
“See?” you say, gesturing to Kate. “We have no idea what he’ll be like.”
“Besides that he’s looking at you again,” Julia says. “So he’s clearly interested in talking to you.”
“Then he can walk over here himself.”
Julia raises her eyebrows, shrugging. “Be careful what you wish for.”
You roll your eyes. Aaron is too busy with the kids and their game is about to start, so there’s no way he’ll walk over. Even if you speak after, Jack will be with him, so nothing will be said. It’s fine.
+++
Aaron’s mouth is dry. He feels like he forgot how to breathe properly.
He didn’t know you’d be here, and here you are. Beautiful. Except he shouldn’t think that, because you’re his son’s teacher. It’s inappropriate. But the way the sun hits your skin…beautiful. You’re beautiful.
He needs to focus. He’s supposed to be coaching the kids, not gawking at a teacher like some idiot.
To make matters worse, Rossi notices, and only silently raises his eyebrows.
Aaron told Rossi about your parent-teacher conference, and how he should’ve put Jack in therapy sooner -- along with himself. Rossi asked him if he thanked you for your advice, but Aaron never found the right time. He half-heartedly thanked you at the conference, but it wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been.
He meant to call you, or send an email, but he never did. Truthfully, he’s been terrified. He feels incredibly stupid to have not gotten Jack help sooner, and even more stupid that he finds you as attractive as he does. Can he be any worse of a person, seriously?
And now, you’re here. At Jack’s soccer game. Which, he guesses he should’ve realized sooner that a lot of Jack’s classmates are on this team, too. And others from different classes, but still in his grade. It was only a matter of time before one of the kids asked a teacher to come. It would only take one, and clearly it did, and he’s unprepared.
Wildly unprepared. And wishing he put on a better shirt.
+++
The soccer game is a disaster, but a wonderful one.
The kids are too young for points to be counted, so it’s just a game of fun chaos. Teams are blurred and never really followed. But they looked like they had a blast out there, so that’s all that mattered.
You, Julia, and Kate split up to see your kids and give out as many high-fives as you possibly can. You listen to their rambles and congratulate them on playing so well. The parents stand by with smiles, occasionally one piping up to thank you for coming.
Aaron is there, too, surprisingly. He’s still smiling bigger than ever.
There’s a man with him, too, who Jack calls Uncle Dave. Jack has mentioned him in class before, and he’s actually Aaron’s coworker. He’s smiling, too, just not as wide, and he keeps glancing between you and Aaron.
Just when you think you’re in the clear, Aaron tells Jack to go with Uncle Dave because he needs to talk to you about something.
You catch Julia and Kate’s eyes when Aaron is left alone with you, and your stomach turns. He doesn’t look angry, but then again, the parents never look angry at first.
“I just wanted to thank you,” Aaron begins, turning so the sun isn’t in his eyes as much. He’s still squinting, and it’s adorable. You wonder why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “I picked a therapist from the list you gave me for Jack, and it’s really been helping him. A lot, so, I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me.”
You blink, stunned. “You’re welcome,” you say slowly before you gain your composure. “I’m very glad that it’s been helping. And to see him playing soccer,” you gesture to the field with a smile. “He seems to really enjoy it.”
“Oh, he does,” Aaron chuckles. “He can’t get enough of it. He talks about it all the time.”
All the time. So maybe he’s spending more time with Jack, then. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”
You pause, waiting for him to say something else. The awkward silence lingers for a little too long, and you know what’s coming next.
“I was wondering,” he starts, and lowers his voice a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime.”
As much as you’d love to say yes, you can’t let yourself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, that would just be inappropriate.”
“No, no, not as a date,” he backtracks, confusing you. “Just to thank you for-- For helping me get Jack in to see a therapist.”
You raise an eyebrow. “To thank me…for telling you what you should’ve done in the first place?”
He sputters for a moment, clearly losing his bearings. “No, I mean--”
“Listen, Mr. Hotchner,” you smile sweetly, trying to contain yourself. “What would you like? A gold star? For getting your son a therapist after he went through an incredibly traumatic event?”
He doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes your anger and annoyance worse.
“Listen. The fact of the matter is that you should’ve kept your son in therapy since he lost his mother. And continue to keep him in therapy until he’s old enough to decide if he wants to continue seeing one or not. Because when my mom died, I didn’t get to have a therapist. We couldn’t afford it, and my dad was too out of his mind to even care. It nearly killed me, and my siblings. So don’t tell me that you want to thank me for something that I never should’ve had to do in the first place. You should’ve paid more attention to your son’s needs. Especially since you can afford services to genuinely help him.”
Your voice stayed quiet, thankfully, because you didn’t need everyone to hear you mouthing off to Aaron once again. You realize only halfway through that maybe you shouldn’t be saying these things in a setting such as this, but you’re too into it to stop.
Julia and Kate heard all of it, though. You can see their jaws open, eyes wide. Did you go too far? You don’t know and part of you doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and it hits far too close to home for you to say nothing at all.
Still, to cover your bases, you add one last thing. “I apologize if that was harsh, but it needed to be said. I want what’s best for my kids. And sometimes, that means getting their parents to see that they need to do better.”
You pause, and he nods, and says another quiet “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you murmur. And to keep things from stinging any more, you walk away.
Julia and Kate catch up with you on the way back to your car, both too stunned to say a word until you’re inside.
“Damn,” Julia whispers. “Damn.”
“Holy shit,” Kate says with a small laugh. “Tell ‘em.”
“Yeah,” you exhale loudly. “Let’s just hope I still have a job by Monday.”
+++
You do still have a job come Monday, with surprisingly no meeting with the principal, either. Or a phone call.
You’re suspicious, but trying not to be. Maybe it’s all fine.
You convince yourself that it’s completely fine until it really is. Until you start seeing Aaron occasionally, picking Jack up from school. You aren’t sure how often he’s been doing it, because the only reason you saw him is that you were forced into car rider duty. You’ve always been on the bus lane, but they needed another teacher out front, and that’s where you saw him first.
It caught you off guard the first time, honestly. It had been three weeks since the soccer game, since you told him off in front of everyone. And what did he do this time when he saw you?
He waved. He smiled. And then he scooped Jack up into his arms.
She won’t own up to it, but you’re positive Julia saw the interaction because you haven’t worked the bus lane since. Because Julia suddenly volunteered for it, taking your place.
Now, it’s a bit of a routine. Aaron picks Jack up almost every day, although sometimes there are a few stretches of three to four days where he isn’t present. Those days, you see Jessica, and she smiles at you as well, but it’s different. You got so used to seeing Aaron those days, that when you see Jessica, it feels strange. It begins to feel the way it used to feel when you saw Aaron picking Jack up.
It makes you smile. You’re glad to see Aaron taking the time to see Jack, to put in the time — finally — knowing he has the means to be able to do this.
+++
For the rest of the school year, this is how you see Aaron Hotchner.
Neither of you say a word to each other, except for the final parent-teacher conference — which he arrives early for. The conference is entirely professional, and he doesn’t mention the past. Neither do you.
The final week of school fast approaches, and you’re looking for decorations to put up in the classroom. You try to make the last week special because you know they’re just as ready for summer break as you are.
Part of your “decorations” consists of candy that you’ll put on their desk every morning, which means you’re in the grocery store, in desperate need of candy to entertain your kids. Five different kinds. Something extra special on the last day, though. They’ll get out two hours earlier, but they don’t know that yet (the parents do).
Right as you turn down the candy aisle, you stop dead in your tracks, your cart nearly smacking into someone else’s. When you look up, you realize who it is.
“Mr. Hotchner!” you blurt.
He smiles that soft smile. “Please, call me Aaron.”
You’re not used to calling parents by their first name. You know he’s tried to get you to call him Aaron a few times, but you can’t ever bring yourself to. Instead, you change subjects, peering into his cart.
“Grocery shopping? For…” You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t even have a good joke. Why do you have so many marshmallows?” He has like…six big bags. Of varying sizes, too.
“Long story,” he says, sheepish. “Jack wants to build something out of marshmallows.”
“Does he want to build a whole country?” you chuckle.
“Sort of, yeah,” Aaron laughs. “He said he wants to build a whole city, then eat it. His words.”
“Wonderful,” you grin. “Sounds like a blast.” And a good idea. You might steal that for next year.
“What are you here for?” Aaron asks, nodding toward your empty cart.
“Candy, for the kids,” you reply. “I want to give them a different kind every day for the last week, just to make it more fun.”
Aaron smiles wider this time. “They’ll love that.”
“Thanks,” you say, mirroring his smile.
You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Or him, quite frankly. Building marshmallow sculptures with Jack? Unheard of. But you leave it alone, just glad he’s spending more time with his son.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping,” Aaron says, gesturing down the aisle. “See you on Monday.”
Baffled, you blink, then nod. “Yeah. See you Monday.”
You see Aaron every day of next week to pick Jack up, and you get to see Jack’s smile grow every day.
On Friday, you head back inside to your classroom, ready to pack things up. Thankfully, you’re returning to this room next year, so you don’t need to pack everything up.
As a tradition, you, Julia, and Kate go out to celebrate the end of the year, so you have to go home and get ready for the night ahead.
+++
Aaron doesn’t know why he let Rossi convince him to come out tonight. Jack’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house, so Aaron has nothing to do — theoretically. Until Rossi decided to drag him out.
Now, he’s sitting in a booth at a bar with a jazz band playing, and he’s wondering how many people Rossi can possibly know. Four people have already stopped to say hi, and they’ve barely been here for half an hour.
As Rossi talks with another friend, Aaron lets his eyes wander around the place, spotting the door when it opens. And you walk in.
He quickly averts his eyes, shifting in his seat. It’s enough to catch Rossi’s attention, and he gives Aaron a strange look, until he sees you at the bar with your two friends from Jack’s soccer game.
Aaron keeps his eyes trained on his whiskey, nodding absently when Rossi says he’s heading to the restroom.
What Rossi is actually doing is heading to the bar to intercept you and your friends, putting all three of your drinks on his tab.
“Thanks,” you chuckle, never one to argue with a free drink.
“You look familiar,” Julia blurts out.
“Dave,” Rossi introduces himself. “I’m a friend of Aaron Hotchner’s. I went with him to a few of Jack’s soccer games last season.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you,” you say.
Dave smiles. His back is turned to Aaron, so he can’t see Aaron glaring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing up there talking to you.
“Aaron’s here with me, actually,” Dave says casually. “He’s at the booth just behind us if you’d like to see him.”
Kate nudges your arm harshly. “She would.”
“Actually, I don’t know if that’s—”
“Go,” Julia urges. “Why not?”
You give them both a look. “Fine,” you cave. “I’ll be right back.”
Kicking yourself for caving so easily (because you really would like to see him), you walk over to the booth where Aaron sits. Thankfully, his back is toward you, so he doesn’t see you coming.
He beams a smile when he sees you though, standing up to greet you. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”
“Kate and Julia drug me out,” you confess, idling for a moment as you both try to decide if you should shake hands, hug, or just stand here. “You?”
“Dave,” Aaron nods, chuckling. Just standing here it is. “Did he send you?”
“They all did,” you nod toward the bar, where they’re all watching like hawks, no doubt. “Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all,” he gestures to the empty space. “How are you?”
“Good, we’re out celebrating the end of the year,” you reply, walking around the table and sitting down on the plush booth cushion. This place is fancier than you would’ve chosen, but Julia heard good things about it from a friend, so you ended up here anyway. “How are you doing?”
“Good, although Dave drug me out for drinks because apparently,” he lifts his drink, “I don’t get out enough.”
“Y’know, that’s funny, my friends tell me the exact same thing,” you laugh. “Dave bought our drinks.”
“I knew he was doing something suspicious,” Aaron jokes, glancing back toward the bar. Dave and your friends have taken over three stools, clearly set on giving you and Aaron some time alone. “Sorry again if he forced you over here.”
“No, he definitely didn’t. My friends did,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I have to ask, how did Jack’s marshmallow city building go?”
Immediately, Aaron digs his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lot of pictures, I’ll just show you.” He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll, already smiling at the thought of them. “He had a blast. We went through so many toothpicks. We both had stomachaches by the end of it from eating so many marshmallows.”
He turns his phone to show you the pictures, and without thinking, you scoot closer to him. To get a better look at the pictures, you tell yourself, but you know that isn’t the full truth.
“Oh my god,” you laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “This so huge!”
“It covered our entire kitchen!” Aaron laughs with you, a sweet sound you wish you heard more often. “I didn’t tell Jessica about it, so she had a heart attack when she came over the next day.”
“I bet,” you nod seriously, swiping on his phone as he holds it toward you. “Goodness.” You look up at Aaron. “Did you guys eat all of them?”
“We’ve had a lot of hot chocolate.”
“It’s May.”
“I know,” he deadpans, feigning annoyance, but then he breaks into a smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been snacking on them maybe a little more than I should every time I go into the kitchen.”
“I would do the same,” you chuckle. “No judgment here.”
He smiles at you and tucks his phone away back in his pocket, and neither of you move from how close you’ve gotten.
“How are you planning to spend your summer break?” he asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. You try not to stare at him too much.
“Lots of getting ready for next year,” you reply, rotating your glass in your hand, focusing on it instead. “Mostly reading for fun, I don’t get to do that a lot during the school year when I’m reading for my kids and grading and such. I plan to do a lot of nothing, basically,” you laugh. “What about you?”
“The same, hopefully,” he says, which surprises you. And he can tell, because he elaborates. “I took a lot of time off from work. I work from home now, essentially. If I absolutely need to go in, then I do, but so far, Dave’s been able to handle it.”
You knew a big change had been made, especially since he’s been picking Jack up from school everyday. But hearing the confirmation makes your heart warm. “I’m really glad to hear that.”
“Me too,” he says. “I know we’ve been over this, but I wanted to thank you for what you said, at Jack’s game—”
Mortified, you interrupt him. “Oh god, I hoped you had forgotten about that.”
“I didn’t forget—”
“I was rude.”
“What you said needed to be said and I’m glad you did,” he protests sincerely. “You shouldn’t have had to say anything, but you did, and I appreciate that.”
His sincerity stuns you. You blink, no words able to come out.
“We can move on from it now,” he says, noticing your hesitation. “I just wanted to be clear that I’m not angry with you for what you said, I’ve actually been the complete opposite.”
“Well,” you chuckle, trying to make light of this. “You didn’t call the school demanding I be suspended, so I knew you couldn’t be that upset with me.”
He stares at you, eyes widening. “Do parents do that?”
“Some, yeah,” you nod. “They don’t exactly like being told by a single teacher with no kids of her own that their parenting skills are shit.”
He laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey. You watch him raise the glass to his lips, but look away before he can catch you. You smile down at your own drink. This is embarrassing.
You thought this little crush -- or whatever it is -- had gone away since you hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game. Sure, you started to look specifically for him in the pickup area, but that was for Jack. That wasn’t for you. Or, at least, that’s the story you spun for yourself.
“What’s on your list to read this summer?” Aaron asks, bringing your eyes back to his. He’s smiling. “I’ve been meaning to read more -- outside of the books Jack and I read.”
You remember Jack telling you about The Magic Treehouse series that Uncle Dave got him for Christmas, and how his dad was reading them with him.
“What, The Magic Treehouse isn’t enough for you?” you tease Aaron, and he laughs, that sweet sound you can’t get enough of.
You tell him about the books on your shelf at home, the ones you got years ago and have yet to read, and the others that you got this year because you couldn’t resist. He listens to each one, never once taking his eyes off of you.
“I am not going to remember all of these names,” he chuckles.
“I can text them to you,” you offer, a grin creeping up your cheeks.
He mirrors your expression. “You stole my line.”
“Oh, that was your line?” you ask, laughing as you pull out your phone. “Fine, fine, you can have it back.”
“No, you said it first,” he says, still grinning. He hands you his phone as you give him yours. “I’m bad at this anyway.”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, typing in your contact information before handing his phone back. “I’ve had a pretty good time.”
He waits a moment, just basking in your smile, the feel of your fingertips brushing against his when he returns your phone. “Me too.”
The night doesn’t end there, as the two of you continue talking. Another round of drinks is sent to your table by Dave and your friends who wave enthusiastically when you and Aaron look over at them.
“Free drinks, at least,” you shrug. “How much money does Dave have?”
“Don’t ask,” Aaron shakes his head. “He’ll never tell.”
As you both finish your first drink and head into the second, you scoot even closer. You bring your legs underneath you on the booth, getting comfortable as you and Aaron start to talk about your favorite movies. He tries to be sneaky and put his arm around you, but you notice and can’t help the giggle that escapes you.
“I told you I’m bad at this.”
“No, it’s sweet!” you protest, leaning into his chest. “It’s very nice, I don’t mind.”
He moves his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulders then, his hand resting on your arm. “This okay?”
“It’s perfect,” you smile softly, turning your head to look up at him. “What movie were we on?”
He stares so intently, searching your face. You watch as his eyes gaze over every inch, dropping to your lips, then back to your pupils. “I have no idea.”
“Me either,” you murmur, silently hoping for a kiss. Silently hoping that he’s hoping, too.
And he is. “I know our friends are watching us,” he whispers. “But can I kiss you right now?”
“Yeah,” you grin. “I was about to ask.”
“Well now we’re even,” he says, leaning closer as he smiles. You tilt your head, meeting his lips halfway, not wanting to wait any longer. You’ve quieted these feelings for far too long.
He kisses you long and sweet, his free hand coming to cup your face as yours search for stability in his shoulders. He knocks the breath out of your lungs, literally, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Aaron pulls back for just a moment, just far enough to say, “Was that worth a gold star?”
You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. “Yeah, Aaron,” you say, looking up at him. “It was.”
#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x teacher!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner x you#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner fluff#hotch angst#hotch fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner one shot
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Yeowooya
Tags: Smut, creampie, facial, handjob, teasing, subby joy, doggy, riding, fluff(?)
Word count: 6k++
The clacking of your keyboard filled the empty office. Your eyes throbbed in their sockets, begging you for some sort of rest from your computer screen. The minute hand of the clock was slowly approaching the 12 mark on the clock, it would be 1 am soon. Regardless, you were determined to put in those extra hours and finish this damn proposal. With a sip of some extra strong coffee, you let the caffeine take over your senses. You mindlessly typed away, words appearing on the document faster than your mind could process.
Your teammates had gone out drinking again. Unlike them, you had a sense of responsibility in you, so you were the one who stayed to finish the last leg of the proposal. While your so-called “teammates” were busy celebrating god knows what, you were slaving away in your space, fingers achy and joints sore.
“Wow… Hard working as ever…”
You looked up. A familiar face smiled back at you over the cubicle.
“Not now Soo-young,” You huffed, looking back at your screen. From your peripheral vision, you saw the woman pout.
“Aw… Why so grumpy?” She teased you. You glared at her.
“I said: Not now,” You repeated yourself. Joy rolled her eyes.
“Fine…” She sighed. Her head disappeared behind the wall of your prison, re-appearing from the entrance to your cubicle.
“Is it me? Or does this place get messier and messier each time I visit?” She mused.
“Keep your hands off my shit,” You warned her, eyes not leaving the screen.
“I’ll do what I please, thank you.”
You heard her rummaging through some papers on your desk. You wanted to whip around and just let her have it right there, but you were so close to completing your task. Forcing yourself to stay laser focused, you pushed yourself a little more. Your fingers moved faster, the frequency of the clacking increasing. At some point, you felt Soo-young looking over your shoulder, watching silently as words appeared on screen. Then she went back to poke her nose into the papers on your desk.
“Damn… This paper was dated 2 years ago!” You heard her mutter. “He really needs to sort his shit out…”
More rustling came from behind you. You were on the final stretch now, just a few more sentences left. You could feel your heart beating faster in excitement as you made your way towards the light at the end of the tunnel.
Alas, you typed out the final word. A rather loud yell of victory left your mouth as you saved your work. You crashed back in your chair, feeling more relieved than you’d ever had before.
“Oh my god… Never again…” You grimaced, massaging your tired eyes.
“This all seems like a you problem not gonna lie,” Joy chimed in. You opened your eyes.
“Joy… Please shut the fuck up,” You requested. In response, she dragged your chair out and spun you in a circle. You yelped, quickly planting your feet down in the ground to stop yourself. God forbid those 4 cups of coffee came out of you.
“You’re done with your work! Stop being a grumpy old fart!” Soo-young reminded you. You sighed.
“Stop nagging. You remind me of my Eomma,” You told her. She scoffed.
“Maybe you should take better care of yourself. That way I can stop taking care of you like you’re a little kid,” Joy retorted. You wanted to argue against her statement, but she had a fair point.
“Fair enough,” You relented.
“That’s what I thought bitch boy,” She sneered playfully. You chuckled.
You weren’t sure how to describe your relationship with Soo-young. You started off as complete strangers to each other, strangers that worked 2 desks away and always seemed to go to the same spot for lunch everyday. One fine day, she sat down next to you in the middle of a meeting—she was half an hour late—and introduced herself to you. You spent the long hours of the meeting entertaining yourselves in hushed, clandestine conversations, stopping only when your boss turned back to face the zombie crowd. At the end, you made yourself a new friend and exchanged numbers with her.
Months passed. You got closer to Soo-young, close enough to call her what all her friends called her.
“They call me Joy,” She told you one morning over some doughnuts and coffee.
“Joy?” You mused. She shrugged.
“Yea… I never really understood why, but the name stuck.”
You would come to understand why with time. She truly lived up to her namesake, her bright, contagious smile and her amusing personality making her a true Joy to be around. You liked her company, it made the office feel like less of a slave plantation.
Your relationship with her was simple up til Christmas day. She invited you back to her place for a couple of drinks after an office party, and you gladly obliged. A few jokes, some snacks and quite a few glasses of wine later, your clothes were discarded together with Joy’s and you were taking her against the window of her apartment. After your fling with her that night, you two made a mutual agreement: What happened would be a one time thing. You were friends, simple as that.
However, neither of you really kept to the first part of the agreement. It was broken just a few weeks after when Joy pulled you into a storage room and sucked your cock.The she proceeded to take your cock up her pussy, your hand clasped around her mouth to prevent anyone from hearing her moans. You broke the agreement two months later, guiding her away from the poolside party at a friends house, ripping her bikini off her and fucking her senseless in the guest bathroom. Since then, sex with Joy happened almost on a weekly basis—sometimes a monthly basis if you two were really busy. No real feelings had manifested for Joy, and Joy certainly didn't seem interested to enter a relationship with you of all people. Hence, the two of you declared yourselves friends with benefits.
“Why are you still in the office?” You asked Joy, powering off your monitor. Soo-young sighed.
“Had to file my team’s paperwork again…” She lamented. “I really hate these slackers.”
“Same here,” You chuckled bitterly. “I just keep saving their asses over and over again while they go out drinking every other night… Ridiculous if you ask me.”
Joy laughed, clearly sharing a common sentiment.
“Should’ve just shredded all the papers… Let those fucks rot for all I care,” Joy mused.
“We’re on the last leg of the proposal submissions… Presentations are tomorrow,” You reminded her. Joy nodded.
“Yep… Which is exactly why I plan on calling in sick tomorrow,” She said. You raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
Joy scoffed.
“We’re the same. We both stay for long hours in the office saving our team’s asses, but we get zero recognition at the end of it all cause it’s a ‘group effort’,” Joy lamented. “I’ve been doing all the work. I want to see how they pitch the proposal without me tomorrow.”
You smirked.
“You’re more cunning than I thought,” You mused. She winked.
“I’ve got lots of ideas up here,” She said, tapping her head. “You know, maybe you should call in sick tomorrow too…”
You shook your head.
“As much as I want to let my team burn to the ground, I don’t see myself doing that,” You told her honestly. Joy groaned.
“Oh my god! You and your morals!” She sighed. “Have a little fun! You certainly seem to be able to put aside your little moral compass when we fuck.”
“But that’s because… Because… Uh…” You struggled to argue.
“Because what huh?” Joy pressed. “Because you like using my tight little body and ravishing my ass? Is that it?”
She wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t want to let her win just like that.
“And what if that is the reason? What are you gonna do, Joy?” You challenged her. Joy stared at you for a moment. Her brows furrowed, visibly deep in thought.
“Alright then,” She finally said after some time. “If that really is the reason… I pitch you an offer.”
You crossed your arms over your chest.
“Let’s hear it.”
Joy leaned against your desk.
“If you call in sick with me tomorrow, I’ll let you fuck me tonight.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“I’m guessing there’s a catch?” You prompted. She grinned.
“But of course,” She replied. “If you fuck me tonight. You have to come to the beach with me tomorrow.”
“That sounds like more of a win for me,” You told her bluntly.
“It’s a win-win for the two of us,” She explained. “You get to fuck me and go to the beach—I get to screw over both our teams, get railed and go to the beach. Simple.”
You nodded your head thoughtfully, pretending to think it over. In truth, you had your answer ready for quite some time.
“So?” Joy urged.
“I accept your offer,” You answered. Joy grinned.
“Perfect,” She said. “Now get your shit and let’s go. All this talk about sex has me aching for your cock.”
As she turned to leave, you grabbed her by the wrist.
“Who said anything about leaving?” You asked. Joy raised an eyebrow.
“My my… Getting mischievous aren’t you?” She teased.
“Well… Like you said: I can set aside my moral compass when it comes to fucking you.”
Joy smiled that lustful smile.
“So are you just gonna keep talking? Or are you gonna kiss me?”
In a flash, you were up on your feet, her tight frame in your arms and her lips on yours. Her hands touched your chest, your own hands on her ass.
“I know the pin to my boss’s office…” Joy whispered. “She has a couch in there.”
A sly grin made its way up your face.
“Then what are we waiting for?” You asked. Joy giggled. She grabbed your hand, hurriedly pulling you towards the direction of her boss’s office.
Looks like your night was far from over.
You ran to that office with Joy like it was an emergency. Once there, Joy hurriedly punched in the numbers. A series of beeps, a green flash and Joy threw open the door, pulling you in with her.
“Any cameras in here?” You asked her.
“Nope,” She replied confidently. “Funnily enough, the CEO turns off all the cameras at night to save money on electricity. That’s why we have so many security guards.”
“That sounds oddly convenient,” You mused.
You found a light switch and flipped it on. The room filled with warm light, revealing the spacious office that was at your disposal.
“Christ. Just shut up and undress me already,” Joy huffed. She moved to unbutton your shirt, and you did the same. The lacy fabric of her bra slowly became more and more visible with each button that came undone, heightening your excitement and making your cock twitch wildly in your pants.
Joy tugged at your pants.
“Get this off,” She whispered. You gladly undid your belt and unbuckled your trousers. They fell with a ‘thump’, pooling around your ankles and exposing the very apparent bulge in your underwear. Joy got her skirt off, making quick work of the article of clothing and tossing it to a side.
“Come here,” She said. She captured your lips, hands hooking the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You jolted a little when you felt the coolness of her palm against your shaft, but quickly adjusted, relishing the small sparks of pleasure when she stroked your length slowly. Your lips parted with hers, your eyes drinking in Joy’s curvaceous body.
“The usual?” She asked, toying with the tip of your cock.
“You pick,” You told her. There was a gleam in Joy’s eyes as she placed a finger on her lips, deep in thought.
“I wanna ride you,” She decided. You grinned.
“Sure thing, but I want to eat you out first.”
Joy let go of your cock.
“Then fucking eat me.”
She guided you over to her boss’s desk. She propped herself up on it, spreading her luscious thighs apart and exposing a wet patch on her still-clothed pussy. It would only be a matter of time before her underwear would be discarded as well.
You didn’t need to be invited over. You were on your knees in a flash, hands pushing Joy’s spreading Joy’s legs a little further. Your index finger pressed against the damp spot on her panties, making her gasp when you started tracing the outline of her pussy with your fingertip.
“D-Don’t tease me like that…” She whispered.
“I like to play with my food a little,” You smirked. She whined, her voice full of need and desire. She squirmed atop the desk, eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back. She made no further attempts to cease your teasing.
When you eventually decided you had Joy riled up, you pulled the thin fabric of her panties off. Her pink folds glistened under the light. You licked your lips, mouth watering at the sight.
You planted a kiss on her left thigh, then her right. Joy’s legs trembled in anticipation.
“Look at me Joy,” You ordered. She bit down on her lower lip, eyes locking onto you. Maintaining eye-contact, you leaned forward and placed your mouth on her soaking pussy.
You’d never forget her reaction when your tongue darted out, sweeping across her slick with the tip of your tongue. Her head whipped back, jet black hair sent flying behind her as she let a sharp sigh escape her lips. You quickly responded with another lick, your tongue tracing a path from the bottom of her slit to the top of her opening. Her juices accumulated on your tongue, her taste lingering in your mouth.
Joy’s hand found your head. She gripped a fistfull of your hair, your name spilling out from her half-parted lips. Her thighs clamped around your head, the flesh drowning out the whir of the air conditioning — a warm, pillowy heaven. Her moans resonated through her body, her thighs vibrating slightly with each gasp or sigh. Your tongue attacked her folds, the flat side of your tongue brushing up Joy’s womanhood in slow, long strokes. The tip of your tongue flicked the swollen nub at the top of her pussy, playing with her clit to your heart's content as you made Joy writhe with pleasure. Nails dug into the back of your skull. Her Thighs clamped down harder around your ears. Her juices leaked out of her cunt, pooling in your mouth as Joy pushed your head into her, forcing your tongue as deep as it could go.
Her thighs shifted down slightly, gripping your cheeks in their grasps instead.
“Fuck… Keep going… Keep eating me…” She pleaded, face twisting in pleasure. There was really no need for that request. You never intended on stopping till she came.
It didn’t take long for you to get close to accomplishing your mission. When her thighs tensed around you, you increased the intensity of your assault. Joy’s breaths became shallower, the intervals between her moans decreasing with each one that left her mouth.
“Oh god… I’m cumming… I’m fucking—”
She never finished her sentence. Her throat strained visibly, her vocal chords tensing as the pleasure struck her like a bolt of thunder. In a sweaty, beautiful disarray, Joy orgasmed. Her lips formed a round “o”, her nails threatening to puncture your scalp. You lapped up the juices that gushed out from her entrance, drinking in as much of her as you could. You fell some of her sweet fluids dribbling down your chin, but you’d handle that later.
You held her body down by her thighs as she shook and quivered on the table. Eventually she settled down enough. She brought her left hand—which had been digging into your scalp—-down to your cheek. She lifted up your head softly.
“Couch… Let me fuck myself on your cock.”
You smiled.
“With pleasure Joy.”
You stood up. Grasping her hand, you helped her off the table and onto the couch. Your cock throbbed violently in her hand as she gripped it firmly, guiding the tip of your shaft to her entrance. Without a word of warning, she dropped down, sheathing you inside of her tight little cunt. Your eyes bulged, a strained sigh leaving your throat. Your hands found her full ass, gripping it tightly.
“Fuck… I always forget how big you are…” She breathed, slowly grinding against you to adjust to your size.
“But you never forget how much you love bouncing on my cock, do you Joy?” You asked.
“Of course…” She replied, eyes glazed with pleasure. “I will never forget how good it feels to be filled with your cock.”
Her hips stopped moving. She shifted on top of you, her hands resting on your shoulders. She kissed you tenderly, tasting herself on your lips.
“I’m gonna fuck myself so hard on this big cock,” She whispered.
“Go ahead Joy,” You said. “Show me how you ride this cock.”
When she began bouncing on you, the sensation of her walls gripping and sliding up and down your shaft almost made you black out. You grounded yourself in reality with the aid of the tender flesh of Joy’s butt, your teeth clenching as she impaled herself on you relentlessly. Her pussy pulsed around your shaft, each beat matching her pace.
“So… Fucking… Big…” She gasped. “I’m… Addicted… To your big cock.”
Her voice was raspy, filled with desire. She wanted this. She needed this.
You smirk, eyes glued to her breasts that were bouncing with each impact she made against you. She caught you looking, taking the hint and leaning forward to give you better access to her assets.
“Thank you,” You smirked through the overwhelming pleasure. You dived in, licking up the sweat between her breasts before shifting slightly to take one of her tits into your mouth. Joy’s walls seemed to clench down tighter around you, responding to the attention you gave her breasts. She moaned louder, riding you faster as your tongue swirled around her taut nipple.
“Fuck yes, suck my tits. Suck my fucking tits!” She screamed. Her cheeks were flushed, her body glistening with sweat as she rode you fiercely. She wasn’t letting up on her pace, fucking herself harshly on your cock just as she promised. She seemed to be sucking you deeper and deeper between her folds. Each bottom of her strokes squeezed you deliciously, partially forcing you out of her pussy when she rose. The motion repeated, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
You could feel the cushion of the couch compressing under your combined weight, Joy’s frantic bounces onto you making it feel like you were on a trampoline. She moaned right into your ear, making your hair stand as her scent filled your nose. Joy overwhelmed your senses. You were going insane.
She continued riding you, thighs clamped around your waist and her arms wrapped around your neck. You released her tit from your mouth, mounds of flesh glistening in a mixture of sweat and saliva. Joy’s eyes, half-lidded in pleasure, stared into yours. The intimacy was sublime.
As much as you would have enjoyed letting Joy bounce on your cock forever, you had your limits.
“Joy…” You grunted. She understood.
She stopped riding you, quickly dismounting you and sitting down next to you. Her hand gripped your shaft, slick with her juices, jerking you off frantically.
“Quick, choose a place to cum,” She urged you.
It takes effort. But through your gritted teeth, you manage a reply.
“Y-Your face. Let me cover your face.”
Joy was on her knees in an instant. Her hand never left your shaft, pumping away with gusto as she closed her eyes. Her free hand fondled your balls, gently massaging your cum up your shaft as your toes curled into the carpet. With a grunt, you let loose.
Rope after rope of your hot seed shoots out of your cock. Joy’s face is covered almost instantly, your load painting her features white in your semen. She squeezed your cock, forcing every last drop of cum out of you. Your body went rigid in overwhelming bliss, your senses numbed by the force of your tidal wave of an orgasm.
Joy waited patiently for the last drop of your cum to ooze out of your twitching shaft. Her tongue emerged from her cum stained lips, licking up your seed that was around her mouth before cleaning you up thoroughly. You mustered the strength to rest a hand on her head, gently stroking her sweat-matted hair as she worked on your cock, helping you to gently ease down from your high.
“That… Was better than I imagined,” You mused.
“Ever since when has sex with me been a disappointment?” Joy grinned, gathering bits of your load off her face with her fingers.
“That’s true…” You mused. Joy giggled, slapping your cock against her face.
Joy waited for you to regain some strength, content with sucking your cock in the meantime.
When you could finally stand, you assisted Joy in cleaning up the mess you made on her face. When all was said and done, you and Joy made sure that there were no odd stains left anywhere in her boss’s office. Once you were both sure that your deed would not be discovered, you hastily put your clothes back on. You turned off the lights and slipped out of the office.
“That was fun,” Joy giggled, hugging your arm. “Now… I expect you to hold up your end of our deal.”
You chuckled.
“It would be rude of me not to after what we did,” You mused. Joy smiled.
“Good… Then it looks like we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow.”
~~~~~~
The sun shined intensely on your face. Joy’s car cruised down the road, the wind catching her flowy black hair and making her sundress flap a little in the wind.
“Quit staring at my tits will you?” She remarked.
“You can’t blame me,” You defended yourself. She rolled her eyes.
“Right. I just look too good in this don’t I?”
You chuckled, your eyes turning back to the road. The sand and the blue waters were visible now, you were close.
“Take the exit just up ahead,” You instructed her.
“I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to backseat drive,” She scoffed.
“All right… You’re the boss…”
Joy smirked, pushing up her sunglasses a little. When the exit came, you were amused when Joy’s car sped right past it.
“I thought you said you knew what you were doing?” You questioned.
“I do,” She answered confidently.
“Then why the fuck did you miss the exit?”
“Cause we’re going somewhere else.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you said we were going to the beach?”
Joy smiled innocently.
“We are, just a different part,” She answered. You gave her a look.
“What?” She asked. “Why are you giving me that side eye?”
You folded your arms.
“Why are you suddenly changing our destination?” You interrogated. Joy’s lips formed a thin line.
“Relax. I’m not kidnapping you or anything,” She reasoned with you. “Just calm your ass down. We’re almost there.”
You were a little sceptical, but you knew better than to doubt Soo-young. But you still had the urge to have a final say.
“Always breaking agreements,” You muttered.
“I heard that,” She told you.
“You were supposed to,” You replied. Joy clicked her tongue in annoyance, but you recognised that familiar cheeky glint in those eyes. She was having fun, so were you.
Joy drove for another 10 minutes or so. A roof of a structure slowly emerged, a stand alone seaside chalet revealing itself.
“We’ll get the beach to ourselves here,” Joy grinned. You chuckled.
“You’re full of surprises,” You remarked.
“And you’re full of shit,” She shot back.
Joy’s car pulled up to the gate of the chalet. She rustled through her tote bag for a bit before retrieving a remote. With a click of a button, the gate rolled open. Joy drove in, parking the car just outside the entrance to the small house.
“We came here on a team retreat a year ago, I figured out how to book it,” She told you.
“I didn’t ask,” You said.
“But you’re bound to ask at some point,” She fired back.
She wasn’t wrong.
You helped Joy to unload the things in her trunk, amused to find that she had brought beverages and meat to grill. You quickly deduced that this would be an overnight stay, realising why she asked you to pack an extra set of clothes.
You entered the chalet with Joy. While Joy put your things in the room, you busied yourself with storing the meat and drinks in the fridge. It was quick work for the both of you.
“Look around for a bit, I need to change,” Joy told you.
“Can I watch?” You asked. She slapped your arm.
“Fucking pervert.”
You chuckled. Joy giggled a little before retreating back to the room and shutting the door behind her. You did as suggested, exploring the place a little while you waited for Joy to emerge out of the room. It was a cosy little spot, complete with an outdoor dining area that offered a breathtaking view of the sea. The view was great, but something told you that the view of Joy’s naked body would’ve been better.
“All right. Let’s head to the water.”
You turned. Your mouth dried up.
Joy sauntered towards you, towel in hand. Her wide hips swaying in those skimpy shorts that cut off perfectly around the fullness of those thighs, perky breasts bulging out behind that tight neon-yellow top on her body, bending the words “Life Is Sweet” around her ample tits. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail, a cap sitting on her head to block out the harsh sun.
“What?” She prompted, giving you a look.
“N-Nothing,” You quickly replied, shaking off the dirty thoughts in your head. “Let’s go…”
You slid the door open and walked out into the deck. You could hear Joy’s pattering footsteps behind you, and you had to resist the urge to look back and get another good look at her. You’d seen her in all sorts of clothing. Suits, dresses, mini skirts, you’d seen it all. Hell you’d even seen her naked countless times.
But this? This felt so different for some odd reason.
Your feet hit the sand, the grains crushing under your feet as you moved towards the water.
“Wait,” Joy called out from behind. You turned—a little too enthusiastically—and saw her holding out a bottle.
“Put on some sunscreen,” She told you, walking up to you and uncapping the bottle. You held out a palm, and Joy pumped a generous dollop into your hand. You thanked her with a smile before applying the lotion onto your body. Joy busied herself with her own body, the Sunscreen making her skin gleam slightly before she rubbed the lotion into her skin completely.
“Could you help me with my back?” She requested, turning her back to you. You quickly took a moment to soak in the shape of her ass in those shorts before walking over and taking the sunscreen from her. You pushed down, pumping some of the lotion onto your hand before applying it on Joy’s back. Your hands cheekily slipped under the bits of her top that clung to her back, earning a playful gaze from the woman. You took your time to rub the lotion into her smooth skin, savouring the curves of her body from behind.
When you decided that you were satisfied, you stepped away.
“All done,” You smiled innocently.
“You sure took your time. Had a good look?” She teased, catching you red handed. You smirked.
“Definitely,” You replied. She smiled and pinched your cheek.
“What a cheeky boy…”
Joy laid down a mat under the shade of a tree, far enough from the tide but close enough for you to quickly access the water. You walked towards the azure blue sea with Joy, wet sand squishing under your feet as you went deeper and deeper. The two of you didn’t go in too deep, stopping when the water hit your knees. A wind had picked up, and Joy stretched out her arms.
“Ah… This is nice…” She sighed.
“Mhm,” You hummed in agreement. A smile made its way onto the girl’s face.
“I wonder how our teams are fairing…” She giggled.
“Not too well probably,” You answered truthfully.
“Ah well… We all get what we deserve…” She sighed. “And we deserve this nice bit of relaxation…”
You nodded, silently agreeing with her. There was a moment of silence between you two as you both stood there, letting the water sweep around your knees. The sea water left a pleasant tingle on your skin, giving you some sort of a respite to the heat of the summer.
Joy moved closer to you.
“You know what’s nice about this?” She whispered.
“What?” You asked. She stretched out her arm towards the shore.
“We have this segment of the beach to ourselves.”
She moved in a little more, your bare arms touching each other. You caught her gaze. She smiled.
“Say…” She began, gingerly reaching for your hand. “I wanted to ask you a question.”
“What is it?” You asked. Joy didn’t reply, opting to silently guide your hand onto her toned tummy. Your knuckles slipped past the waistband of her shorts, your fingers coming into contact with something warm and wet. Experience allowed you to deduce what exactly was against your fingertips.
“Ever thought about fucking on the beach?”Joy grinned.
“Nope… But I’m down to try,” You replied.
As quickly as you had entered the water with her, you found yourselves back up on shore, tongues in mouths and hands on each other. Joy’s mat served as a barrier between you and the sand, providing a perfect place for you to lay Soo-young down and slip your digits into her slick folds. A moan escaped her lips, her front teeth becoming visible as she bit down on her fingernail. You pumped your hand, working your fingers deeper into her slick cunt, your lips peppering her neck with kisses and light nibbles. A stream of moans and whines flowed from Joy’s mouth.
“Oh yes… Right there baby… R-Right fucking there,” She hissed, hips jerking when your fingers curled up and made contact with the soft flesh on the roof of her walls.
“You’re so wet Joy,” You muttered.
“I’m always wet for you…” She replied.
You smiled.
“You're always such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” You whispered into her ear. She nodded.
“O-Oh… Y-Yes… I’m your little slut…”
Your fingers worked faster, pumping harder and deeper into her warmth. She gasped sharply, her back arching deliciously. You bent her to your will, a dark part of you finding pleasure in making her yours.
“Oh shit… Don’t stop… Please don’t stop,” She whined, her left hand kneading her left breast while her right clung to your shirt sleeve for dear life. She let her sighs and gasps tumble out of her mouth, not bothering to control her volume as her hips start grinding against your hand. Her eyes filled with need, her tight body quivering and thrashing against your hand as she moaned your name into your ear. With each entrance of your fingers, a delightfully erotic squelch filled your ears, mixing with Joy’s filthy exclamations of pleasure. Your lips found Joy’s, muffling her cries with your mouth. Her thighs clamped down tightly around your hand, keeping you deep inside of her while you drove her wild.
Your left hand found one of her taut nipples, and you gave the nub a pinch. Joy moaned into your mouth, her right hand shifting up and gripping your forearm. You released her lips, allowing you to hear those cute mewls and gasps clearly. Her moaning increased in volume, her eyes widening.
“Fuck… I-I’m gonna cum,” She said, nails digging into your arm. “Keep fucking me with your fingers! I’m fucking… Oh!”
Joy came, tight frame shaking violently. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, pupils dilating further as her thighs quivered around your hand. Her back arched further, her breasts proudly protruding on her quivering chest. Your hand slowed, gradually halting to give Joy a breather through her high. Her body crashes down on the mat mere minutes later, heaving with each breath Joy took as the bliss faded. Sweat beaded on her brow, her skin glistening deliciously under the light.
Her weak left hand tilted your chin towards her. She finds your lips once more, holding you in a sweet kiss for a little before releasing you.
“Fuck me however you want… Just promise that you’ll cum in me this time.”
You smiled.
“Of course Joy…” You affirmed her. “Let’s get you undressed.”
Her soaking wet shorts were off in a flash, her skin-tight top following closely behind. Joy undid the strings of your shorts, pulling them down to let your hard cock spring out. Her hand gripped your shaft, slender fingers squeezing your member gently as she stroked you lazily.
“The usual?” She asked. You nodded, feeling a little bit of Deja vu. Joy’s hand left your cock, planting itself behind her. She flipped herself belly down, her big juicy ass raised and presented for you. You pulled your shorts down past your knees before positioning yourself behind Joy. She looked back at you, that devilish smile on her face as you slapped your cock against her ass.
“Put it in…” She whispered.
“Patience, Joy… You’re always in such a hurry,” You told her, taking your time to line yourself up with her slit. While you were aching to enter her, a dark part in you took pleasure in making the girl beg.
“Please… Please just put in already…” She implored, a wanton expression wiping the smile off her face. You finally relented.
You pushed your tip in, parting her flushed, pink lips as the rest of your cock slid into Joy’s cunt with ease. You groaned, hands gripping the full cheeks of her ass as you hilted yourself in her tight walls. It was pure bliss.
“God… You’re always so fucking tight Joy,” You hissed, spanking her with an open palm. She yelped in delight, ass rippling under the impact.
“Fuck me…” She gasped. She was so full of need and lust.
You did as she requested. Your hips popped back, your shaft redrawing from her slick momentarily before spearheading right back into the depths of her cunt. You gave her no time to adjust, quickly establishing a rough, frantic, carnal pace and taking her pussy. Joy was gasping, crying, screaming in delight, her ass rippling hypnotically with each deep stroke you made. Her little body rocked, the warmth of her ass cushioning your crotch with each entrance. Her hands dug into the sand, fingers buried deep in the grains to hold her steady as you pounded her tight little pussy mercilessly. Her walls sucked you in, pulling you deeper and deeper into her till you could feel the warmth of her core on the tip of your cock. Jolts of pleasure shot up your spine and through your nervous system.
Joy lowered her upper body to the ground, deepening the angle of your frantic thrusts into her. You reached down, hands quickly locating her swaying breasts and cupping them. You played with her soft ample mounds, relishing Joy’s curves in your palms.
“Oh fuck Joy… You take my cock so well,” You grunted.
“My body… Was made to take your cock,” She hissed back. “This pussy is yours. Take my slutty little pussy like it’s yours.”
She made eye contact with you for the nth time. The look in her eyes made something snap inside of you.
Your palm left her tits, pushing down on the small of Joy’s back. Her face dug into the mat, her thighs spreading even further to take you deeper into her folds. She screams your name, begging you for more.
You doubled down on Joy, your slick shaft emerging and disappearing between her slick pussy lips. Her hand reached between your bodies, rubbing frantically at her clit.
“Oh fuck fuck fuck! Fuck me fuck me fuck me!” She cried, sounding breathless. She was enjoying every last second of her treatment. The waves crashed against the shore, doing little to mask the screams of pleasure escaping from Joy’s lips.
You fucked Joy into the sand, taking control of her body as you bent over her to keep her pinned between you and the mat.
“How does it feel Joy?” You growled into her ear. “How does it feel being fucked like a dirty little slut?”
Joy struggled to answer.
“It feels… So… Fucking good…”
The pure filth coming from her mouth spurred you, making you fuck her faster, harder… You wanted to fuck her senseless like you always did. Joy loved taking your cock till her mind went blank. Be it in the office, in between her own sheets or even in a car, she relished the feel of your cock stretching her out and fucking her till her brain rattled in her skull. There was no such thing as “Slow” when you were with Joy.
Your hand gripped her ponytail, yanking back hard till her head was looking straight ahead.
“I’m gonna fucking cum Joy,” You hissed. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside your tight little cunt.”
“Yes yes yes… Do it! Fill me! I need it so fucking bad!” She grunted. Your hand leaves her hair, both hands gripping her wide hips roughly as you give Joy all you had.
Your orgasm almost made you black out. You buried yourself as deep as you could inside Joy’s body, struggling to keep your upper body upright. Your cock spasmed and pulsated, your body quivering and shaking — absolutely overwhelmed by pleasure. Joy’s sighs drowned out the noises around you, a dull ring in your ears as you pumped your load into her awaiting cunt. It takes an eternity for you to recover. When you do, Joy was quick to request for more.
“I want it in my ass next…” She told you. Through your sweat-matted hair, you managed a grin.
“Coming right up.”
You wouldn’t be going back into the water for quite some time.
~~~~
A cool evening breeze ruffled your hair, rustling the leaves of trees behind you as you sat on the deck with Joy. Her head rested on your shoulder, mouth busy chewing on the piece of meat in her mouth. There was a pleasant silence between the two of you, both of you silently listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
“Feed me another piece,” Joy requested. You gladly obliged, poking a slice of grilled meat with your fork and bringing it to her mouth. She bit it off your fork, chewing happily.
“You know… I think we should do this more often,” She told you between bites.
“There’s a limit on the number of times we can call in sick Joy,” You reminded her.
“Ah who fucking cares,” She said. “We can probably find other loopholes in the system.”
You chuckled.
“I guess so,” You mused. She tapped your hand. You fed her another piece of meat.
A deep sigh left her mouth. You risked a glance down, noting the look of content on her face as she stared out into the sea. The sun was setting just past the horizon, an orangish-golden glow illuminating the surface of the water. The sunlight blended with the deep blue water of the sea, the sun reflected on the surface of the water. It was… Oddly romantic.
“Thanks for coming out with me today,” Joy said. “I really appreciate it.”
You smiled.
“No problem Soo-young,” You replied. “I needed this break either way.”
Joy giggled.
“I know. So did I.”
“So was I always meant to be invited?” You questioned.
“Hm… Maybe.”
You feigned offence. Joy laughed and smacked your arm playfully.
“Well… Intended or not, I’m glad you asked me to come,” You told her sincerely. Her expression softened.
“That’s great… Would’ve been a waste if you didn’t,” She replied.
Your eyes met hers. For once, past the cheekiness, past the lust and past the mischief, you saw a faint glimmer of… something behind her gaze. Something stirred in you.
You looked back out towards the sea, feeling an odd sensation on your chest. You didn’t know what it was, but it made you hold Joy a little closer.
Maybe… Just maybe… You felt like the two of you were more than just friends with benefits.
-------------------
Hello. Hope you enjoyed this one. I had a little bit of a Joy overdose so...
Anyways, thanks for stopping by and reading! Have a great day!
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Falling For the Devil [Part ninety: "The Ring"]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k
Summary: Matt takes Foggy with him to finally buy an engagement ring for you.
Or
You continually almost stumble onto Matt's hiding places for the ring in the apartment.
[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]
Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence
a/n: One of the updates y'all have been waiting for! It's mostly in Matt's POV but that alternates near the end. Also, this installment means the proposal is now fair game to appear at ANY TIME. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, how am I at NINETY of these now??
Tag List: @ninacottee @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @mascamp02 @1988-fiend @linmarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment
Monday
“Alright, Matt,” Foggy said with a sigh.
Matt heard the way Foggy stepped inside his office and leant up against the doorframe before loosening his tie. The sound of fabric fibers rubbing against each other was sharp and loud as it met Matt’s ears. His head rose up from his work, his fingers pausing on the braille before him as he focused on Foggy in the doorway, sending him a tight smile.
“What is this super secret thing you wanted to do with me after work today that absolutely could not wait for another day?” Foggy asked.
Matt's brows drew together as he reached over, his fingers pushing up the sleeve of his shirtt as he felt for the time on his watch. “It’s already five?” he asked, double-checking for himself.
“Yup, buddy,” Foggy answered, running a hand through his hair. “The day dragged on, but alas, it is finally over. Or, at least, the work day is. Though my day is not, since, you know, you practically begged me to assist you this evening with something that you would tell me nothing about."
Internally Matt disagreed with the sentiment about the day dragging on as he began to gather up the papers scattered along his desk. For him, it felt like the day had flown by. He'd been trying to focus on his work all day today, but truthfully all he could think about was finding the perfect engagement ring later once he'd finished at the office. He had absolutely no clue what the first thing was when it came to picking an engagement ring.
And if Matt was being honest, this was the first time in a long time that he found himself feeling self-conscious about being blind. Because it wasn't like he could see all the different styles and options of rings to find the one he wanted–the perfect one that you'd hopefully wear on your finger for years to come. The one that felt like it fit you . The one you'd say yes to. Admittedly it pained him to ask for help with something so personal and intimate, even if Foggy was like a brother to him. He desperately wished this was something he could do on his own.
"So are you going to tell me what we're doing?" Foggy questioned again. "Is it something to do with Daredevil? Because I'll be honest, buddy, I'm not so sure I want to get involved in anything illegal. I'd like to retain my ability to practice law after all the hard work I put into getting that degree."
Matt laughed lightly, sliding his chair back from his desk. "It's nothing illegal. And it's nothing to do with…that aspect of my life."
"Okay, so then why the cloak and dagger?" Foggy pressed. "If it's not about Daredevil then I don't get what's with–"
Matt's head tilted to the side, his dark brows pinching together the moment he heard Foggy suck in a sharp breath. He abruptly crossed the room, planting both of his hands firmly on Matt's desk.
"Matthew Michael Murdock are you doing what I think you're doing?" Foggy asked, his question hushed and fast.
"I suppose that depends on what you think I'm doing," Matt countered slowly, rising to his feet.
"Are you–" Foggy leaned in closer to him, "– proposing ?"
A grin drew itself onto Matt’s face, one that he couldn’t possibly fight back. Not as the memory of you calling him family from the other day flashed through his mind.
"Well, I need a ring first," he answered.
Foggy’s right hand curled into a fist before he pumped it up and into the air so abruptly that it took Matt by surprise. The loud whoop he emitted next had managed to last a duration of two seconds before Matt had thrown his hand forward, waving it frantically at Foggy and quickly trying to calm him down as panic shot through him.
"Fog, relax," Matt said in a hushed tone, already hearing the clicking of Karen's heels heading towards his office. "I'd like to keep this between us for now so it can remain a surprise."
"Sorry, you just don't know how excited I am right now," Foggy replied in an excited rush. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment, man. I just–"
"What're you so excited about that you're shouting in here without me?" Karen asked, cutting Foggy off. “What moment have you been waiting for?”
Matt could hear the hard swallow from Foggy, noticing the way his friend’s palms had begun to sweat. He was nervous. Which meant Matt probably needed to come up with a fast lie to get Karen off this topic as quick as possible, especially because he was certain that subtle shift in the air was from her gaze curiously dancing back and forth between the pair of them.
“For that new bakery opening up near his apartment,” Matt said, straightening his tie. “He’s been talking about it all week.”
Karen’s eyes narrowed, her head tilting to the side. “He has?” she asked.
Foggy let out a nervous laugh, the sound of which had Matt struggling not to wince. If he kept it up, she’d figure out what was going on in no time. Karen was far too smart and perceptive.
“Suppose it was only to me then,” Matt replied, cutting Fog off before he could speak. “Consider yourself lucky. If I have to hear about bear claws again I might stuff tissues in my ears.”
“Mmm,” Karen hummed out. “Well, I suppose I’m heading home for the night. Unless either of you need anything?”
“No, Karen, we’re just about to head out, too,” Matt said quickly, shooting her a wide smile. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”
“Right,” she replied slowly, dragging the word out.
There was a brief pause before she said goodbye, and then both Matt and Foggy remained absolutely silent until they’d heard the main office door shut and her heels clicking down the hallway. Foggy exhaled an audible breath, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
“Sorry, Matt,” he apologized. “I forgot she was even here for a moment. It's just–you're going to ask your girl to marry you! This is fantastic news!"
“It’s alright,” Matt assured him with a grin. “But can we just keep this between the pair of us? I’m not sure exactly when I’m proposing, but I’d like it to be a surprise for her. So I’d prefer Karen and Marci not finding out ahead of time–especially Marci. We both know she can’t keep a secret.”
Foggy laughed lightly, shaking his head. “No, that she absolutely cannot do,” he agreed. “So do you know where you want to go to look, or–”
“I know exactly where I want to go,” Matt replied, cutting Foggy off as he made his way around his desk. “I just don’t know exactly what to get.”
“Well you’re in luck, buddy,” Foggy told him. “Because I’ve done this before and it resulted in a positive outcome, so I’d like to think that makes me an expert when it comes to engagement ring shopping.”
Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m counting on it, Foggy.”
Matt’s fingers ran over the ring in his hand, his lips pursed as he tried to focus on the feel of it. Bringing Foggy with shopping for an engagement ring had proved helpful, he had to admit, but the final decision ultimately came down to him. And picking out a ring hadn’t been easy so far, either.
Currently he had narrowed his choices down to two, but he was torn between them. One was a yellow gold ring with a solitaire pear-shaped diamond, and the other was a white gold ring with a round solitaire diamond surrounded by a series of smaller ones–apparently called a ‘halo.’ He’d eventually concluded that the ring styles with multitudes of diamonds just didn’t suit you. Because you were not flashy and loud, but rather delicate and understated yourself. He figured he wanted a ring that reflected that, one you’d feel comfortable wearing.
But he was also torn between something he thought you’d like–because the woman helping him had assured Matt that solitaire pear-shaped diamond engagement rings were definitely in right now–or something he thought reflected the relationship you both had. The round solitaire with the halo of diamonds was the one he’d been leaning towards; as tacky as it sounded, the circular shape of the diamond did signify that there was no beginning or end to his love for you, plus it was classic and timeless. And the idea of a halo suited you, after all.
His thumb ran over the pear-shaped diamond again, the tip of it pricking the pad of his finger each time. A frown settled on Matt’s lips.
“What is it?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning in towards him. “You look deep in thought.”
“This one just doesn’t feel right,” Matt murmured, the tip of the diamond sharply catching on his finger again. “In more way than one.”
“Then it’s not the one,” Foggy said simply, plucking it out of Matt’s fingers. "What about the other one? What's that one making you feel?"
Foggy placed the round cut ring into Matt's upturned palm. He could feel the weight of the woman's eyes on him from behind the counter, clearly hoping for a sale. He tried to ignore it as he ran his fingers over the shape of it. Nothing caught his skin uncomfortably as he did, not like the other ring.
For a moment he stood there, feeling the ring in his hand. He imagined it on your finger as he held your hand–the pair of you out at dinner, sitting on the couch together, or after he'd come home from his night out as Daredevil. He imagined running his thumb along it as he called you his fiancé, hearing the way the muscles would shift in your face as you smiled. Gradually a small smile slid onto his lips at the thought, his thumb running over the diamonds again as he imagined feeling it on your finger with a second band, finally being able to call you his wife.
"It feels like it's for her," he whispered to Foggy. "This is the one. This is her ring."
"Yes!" Foggy exclaimed, clapping Matt excitedly on the back. "I think I'm shaking in excitement over here, man! I can't believe this is finally happening!"
Matt's smiling face focused back down on the ring in his hand. "I can," he told him. "Because it was always going to be her for me. Knew it from the moment she first stumbled into Josie's."
"Now you just need to propose," Foggy told him, patting him on the back again.
Nerves swirled in Matt’s stomach at the thought of finally asking you that life altering question. He'd had an idea planned for that moment for quite a long time now and he only hoped you liked it when he did finally ask.
"I just hope she says yes," Matt whispered.
"Of course she will," Foggy said, nudging him with his elbow. "Don't overthink it. She’s crazy in love with you, too. Anyone can see it just by looking at her face, Matt."
Tuesday
You awkwardly unlocked the apartment door while trying not to spill the contents of the takeout bag in your hands. Tonight had been a late night at the office for you, having been busy working on meeting a deadline for Ellison before you left. You'd called Matt at his office earlier, telling him that you'd be the one running late tonight and that you'd grab dinner from the Thai restaurant around the corner before you came home so that he didn’t have to worry about cooking.
Opening the door and stepping inside, you were surprised to be met with silence. Confusion washing over you, you wondered if maybe something had happened in Hell’s Kitchen and Matt had gone out early. As you took your shoes off, placing them under the bench and out of the way so no one would trip on them, you noticed the doors to the closet where Matt kept the trunk of his father's things and his Daredevil suit was partially ajar.
Brows knitting together, you made your way down the entryway hall towards it. If Matt had gone out, he'd have fully shut the doors after getting dressed. It seemed odd he'd have been in that much of a hurry to forget that.
Though when you neared the closet, you spotted one of his red gloves lying on the floor just behind one of the chairs. Frowning, you stepped over towards it and bent down to pick it up–which was when you finally found Matt.
Dressed in a black-tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his large body was curled up on the leather couch under the plush blanket you'd replaced his plaid one with. He was fast asleep, looking absolutely peaceful, but your heart nearly melted when you spotted Mittens' dark gray body curled into a tight ball against Matt’s chest. Nestled in between Matt's muscular arms, the cat looked even smaller than usual.
A smile gradually made its way onto your lips as you watched the pair of them for a moment. They both looked comfortable and content sleeping as they cuddled up together. Despite Matt’s attempts to tell you he wasn't a cat person–or a pet person of any sort–you'd noticed how often he was usually talking to or playing with the cat. Often when he passed by Mittens laying in his cat tree that you’d recently gotten him, Matt would always stop to pet him. It was such a common occurrence that even Mittens expected it, usually raising his head and softly mewing at Matt whenever he neared.
Glancing down at the glove in your hand, you figured Mittens must have gotten into Matt’s trunk while he was asleep. You knew some nights Matt came home exhausted and didn't fully shut and lock the trunk after himself. Mittens must have opened the closet with his little paws and somehow pushed the lid open. Though how the cat had somehow managed to pull his glove out from under that false bottom was an absolute mystery to you.
Quietly you crossed the living room, making your way over towards the kitchen table to set down the bag of takeout. When you turned, intending to put away Matt's glove, you spotted him groggily sitting up awake on the couch.
"Hey, Matty," you said, making your way back across the living room. "I just got home. I grabbed dinner–it's on the table. I'm just picking up quick if you want to get started on dinner."
"Picking up?" he asked drowsily. “Picking up what?”
His head was tracking your movements across the apartment, his expression switching from drowsy to alert suddenly.
"Yeah, it looks like Mittens got into your trunk again," you told him. "Pulled out a glove. I was just going to–"
"I got it," he said in a rush.
You hadn't even had a chance to open your mouth to respond before Matt was at your side, removing the glove from your hand. He sent you a tense smile before he gestured his head towards the kitchen.
"You had a long day," he continued. "Why don't you go start on dinner? I can put this away."
You stood there confused, blinking at him and his odd behavior for a moment. After a few seconds, when he urged you a second time to go get some food, you finally nodded and turned. Heading back towards the kitchen to get everything plated for dinner, you briefly wondered what that had been about.
Wednesday
"Uncle Matt! Uncle Matt!"
The sound of his name ringing out so enthusiastically in the apartment by your now almost four year old nephew easily put the biggest smile onto Matt’s face. He'd barely managed to exit the entryway hall after taking his shoes off before he heard Hudson racing across the apartment. The boy nearly knocked him over when he threw his arms around Matt’s leg, clinging to him in an excited hug.
"Hey, Huds," Matt said with a warm chuckle. "Your aunt told me you might still be here when I got home and I was hoping she was right. I missed you, buddy."
Matt reached his hand down, affectionately ruffling the boy's hair. Hudson giggled, releasing Matt’s leg only long enough to grab onto his hand instead. Matt could hear the way your smile grew from your place on the couch in the living room, watching as Hudson began to drag him into the room further. His heart swelled–he loved you and your family, even if he could still feel Amber occasionally giving him the side-eye when she was around.
“Huds, why don’t we let Matt have a minute to relax?” you suggested. “He just got in the door from work, bud. He might want to get changed.”
Hudson didn’t remotely let up his hold at your suggestion, continuing to drag Matt around the couch. His little hand had a surprisingly strong grip for a toddler.
Matt shook his head at you, the smile still spread wide over his face. “That’s alright, sweetheart,” he assured you. “I don’t mind at all.”
“I finally got to meet Mittens, Uncle Matt!” Hudson exclaimed, finally dragging Matt to a stop beside the coffee table–though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Matt’s hand. “Hes so soft and cute! And he really liked my dinosaurs!”
“He did?” Matt asked curiously, head tilting to the side.
“Yeah!” Hudson replied. “Momma got me some new ones. Mittens was running around playing with them. It was silly, wasn’t it, auntie?”
Matt heard the way you pushed yourself up from the couch, his attention curiously shifting towards you.
“Yeah, he definitely was having a blast with them,” you agreed, lowering down to your knees before the couch. “And I think he might’ve knocked a couple under here, actually. Ahh, yeah, here they are.”
“There was another one over there,” Hudson said.
Matt’s heart sped up in his chest when he noticed Hudson was pointing near the other side of the apartment. A sharp spike of adrenaline shot through him because he’d moved your engagement ring from the trunk with his suit to behind the radiator after you almost found it last night when he’d been napping on the couch.
“Where’d it go again?” you asked. “Behind the radiator?”
Matt heard the way the air shifted as Hudson nodded his head. The moment he heard you making your way over there he panicked. If you looked back there you’d surely see the ring box he’d tried to hide and he didn’t want to propose to you right here and now, not like this. He had something more planned for that.
“You know what?” Matt said quickly, shooting you a nervous smile as he began walking swiftly towards the radiator. “I can grab it. Don’t worry about it.”
He heard the way you paused, one of your brows raising onto your forehead. He could practically hear you thinking about how weird he was being right now.
“You’ve had a tough week at the office,” Matt continued, turning and heading over towards the radiator while you were still hesitating. “Just enjoy the time with Hudson.”
“I mean it’s…not that hard to grab something from behind there, Matt,” you said slowly.
His mouth went dry when he heard the strange tone to your voice. Like you thought he was acting off.
Because admittedly he was.
“Exactly!” he exclaimed.
He shot you a smile over his shoulder as he bent down, sticking his hand behind the radiator. Your eyes were watching him so carefully that he could feel your stare as his fingers brushed over the velvet box. Still smiling at you, he deftly managed to grab both the box and the little dinosaur, pocketing the box discreetly into his suit pocket as he held up the dinosaur in his other hand.
“Found it!” he called out, palms sweating.
Thursday
Stacking your clean bras in the top drawer of the dresser, you overheard the apartment door opening and closing. You smiled to yourself as you made your way back to the bed, grabbing a stack of your clean socks next. You’d loved living with Matt, adjusting a little faster than you’d anticipated despite some of the small mishaps the pair of you had had over the past couple weeks.
Glancing up as you headed back to your dresser drawer, you caught sight of Mittens. He’d followed you into the bedroom a bit ago when you’d brought in the load of clean laundry and began to sort through it. He’d long since fallen asleep in his little hammock by the window when you’d started folding the laundry, but the sound of Matt shuffling through the living room had caused him to stir awake. His green eyes were blinking tired and slow, focused on the bedroom door as if he expected Matt to step through.
And sure enough, as you were closing the drawer of the dresser, you felt a pair of hands slip around your waist. The smile on your mouth only grew wider when he leaned over your shoulder, planting a kiss to your cheek.
“Missed you today, sweetheart,” Matt murmured.
“I missed you, too,” you said, turning in his arms. “But we did talk on the phone through part of lunch today, if you remember.”
He hummed in response, nodding his head. “Ahh yes, how could I forget? Katy had some very detailed things to tell you about her date the other night even though she knew you were on the phone with me.”
“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “She has no shame, that one.”
“Mmm, no, but I’m glad she’s fixated on someone else’s cake for now,” Matt said.
“Ahh yes,” you replied, making your way back towards the bed when Matt released you from his hold. “I’ve heard her talk about that a little too much today, actually. Though she did still say yours is superior, so do not fret, Matt.”
You giggled at the sound of Matt’s groan as you picked up his stack of boxers. Turning, you made your way back towards the dresser, though you noticed the way Matt tensed. Before you could even reach out and open the drawer, Matt had tossed an arm out in front of you, blocking you from the dresser. Taken by surprise, you stopped abruptly and pulled a face.
“What’re you doing?” you asked him.
“I should ask you that as well,” Matt quickly shot back.
You glanced down at the stack of freshly laundered black boxers in your hands. Slowly your attention shifted back up to Matt. One of your brows rose up onto your forehead, your eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.
“Putting away your clean laundry,” you replied. “Obviously.”
Matt’s hands flew forward, taking you yet again by surprise when he grabbed the stack from your hands. The smile on his face looked forced, which only had your eyes narrowing further.
“How about I finish putting away my laundry and you can start the oven?” he asked. “I’ll finish taking care of dinner once I get changed.”
Your eyes gradually slid down towards the dresser, noticing how Matt was now blocking it more fully with his body. Which was…odd.
“Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?” you asked him curiously. “Because I–”
“No!” Matt replied quickly, his smile growing even wider as he shook his head. “No, not at all,” he added, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I just want you to–”
“Relax?” you cut in. “Yeah, you’ve been saying that all week. It’s getting kind of weird, actually.”
“Well you’ve just been so stressed at the Bulletin and dealing with me home most of the week,” Matt told you. “I figured since I’m here I can try to give you some breaks, right? So why don’t you start the oven and relax your pretty little self on the couch with one of your shows, sweetheart. Let me finish this.”
For a moment you stood there, eyeing Matt suspiciously. He was up to something, that much was obvious. But what remained a mystery to you.
Figuring it had something to do with Daredevil, you sighed and nodded before heading out of the bedroom.
Sunday
Matt could hear the tension in Foggy’s muscles as he slid the living room window open. From his place on the fire escape, Matt could still hear Marci in their bathroom presumably washing the makeup off of her face.
"What the hell are you doing here, Matt?" Foggy hissed through the opening. "You know you can stop by dressed in normal clothes using the front door, right? Not popping up on the fire escape dressed like that ."
Foggy dramatically waved his hand, gesturing at Matt’s Daredevil suit. Matt sighed before holding up the box in his hand, hearing the way Foggy gasped the moment he noticed it.
"Wait, are you proposing to her?" Foggy asked in shock. "Oh buddy, please tell me you're not doing it in the suit. Because as much as I'm sure you think she might enjoy it, I don't think she'd actually want you–"
"Fog, stop," Matt said, waving his hand at him. "Of course I'm not proposing to her in the suit. I'm not proposing tonight, I just came to ask you a huge favor."
He heard the way Foggy’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting curiously to the side. In the other room, Marci was still thankfully washing her face.
"What sort of favor are we talking about?" he asked slowly.
"Can you keep this here?" Matt practically begged, holding the box with the ring in it higher. "Preferably somewhere Marci can't find it and spoil the surprise? Because I have been going insane this week, Fog. Every time I hide it somewhere I think she'd never go–the radiator, next to my suit in the trunk, my damn shoes–she keeps almost finding it. And Fog, buddy, I can't take the anxiety anymore. I swear she must already think something is going on."
"Okay, yeah, sure," Foggy replied, accepting the box Matt practically shoved at him. "I can keep it safe here until you need it."
"Oh thank God," Matt said with a relieved sigh. "You have no idea how grateful I am. I owe you one."
"Think you owe me more than one, Matt," Foggy countered.
Matt sent Foggy a sheepish smile. He was about to respond when he heard the faucet turn off in the bathroom.
"Marci is about done, I got to go," Matt said in a rush. "Hide that somewhere good, please. But…don't forget where, either."
As Matt turned and hopped over the fire escape railing, he caught Foggy’s promise to safeguard his ring, considering it his first duty as Best Man. The comment had Matt grinning as he continued to make his way down the side of the building.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock series#matt murdock#daredevil
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✦˚₊ NE DOUTE PAS
Pairing : e42 Miles x FemHaitian!reader
Synopsis : You teach Miles how to kompa.
Sierra speaks : I was thinking of requesting this to another writer, but i was like nah, ima do my own thing ima right it myself 😋 I love Kompa so much (im not Haitian but im Congolese its close enough) it was so hard trying to explain how to kompa but alas.. enjoy pookiewookies !
Warnings ❕: Intimate dancing, kissing, slightly (? suggestive, cuss words, a sprinkle of spanish (im not spanish do correct me 🥲 using what i learnt last year), also not that proof read i skimmed through it. tell me if i missed out anything !
Listen too’s :
youtube
You sat in your swivel chair, decorated with pink faux fur and a curved lumbar support to rest your back on. The chair swung gently back and forth while you talked to Miles on the phone.
The face-time call had reached about 30 minutes, it was now 1:30pm in the afternoon and you did not really have any plans for the day so you stay stuck with the fact that you two would be conversing all day.
“What are your plans for today mami?”
“I don’t know baby, I was just gonna stay on the phone to you all day I honestly ain got nothing else to do soo.” you shrugged, almost choking on your words trying to get it all out in one breath.
“lentamente mami you boutta drown in your own words.”
“Ughhh im sooo bored.” you pushed your chair away from your chair gliding backwards and stood up stretching your arms.
“So im boring now?” he questioned sarcastically.
“Nooo Milo, you know what i meant.” You pouted jokingly while going to play some music on your tv.
Miles watched intently while you typed the name of the song into your tv, finally searching it up and clicking on the first video that popped up.
“Whatchu playin on yo tv?”
“Just a song, i feel like dancing.” you said swaying your hips as you walked backwards.
“i could watch you do this allll dayyy.” Miles said with a grin on his face, you laughed at him.
You began to whine to the song, turning around. Your waistline moving in circles like water. The stringed beads that laid on your hips followed the pattern of your movements as you slowly lowered down the the floor with your arms either side of you.
Your boyfriend’s glued onto your waist, you span around quickly catching him staring at you so intensely.
“Miles stop staring at me nd-“
“What am i not allowed to stare at you now too?” He smirked, cutting you off.
“I was gonna say come over so you dont have to stay staring through a screen, but now you can stay your ass at home.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.
“Nah im on my way baby, then I can watch you dance f’me.”
“really? what if I teach you to Kompa instead.”
“Say no more . I wanna see you do that dance again though, when i get there.”
Miles wasted no time slipping his shoes on and kissing his mom goodbye on the cheek before speed walking through 2 blocks to your house.
He texted your phone stating he was a few steps away from your front porch and you ran to your front door with a huge smile plastered on your face while you opened it.
“Miloooooo!!” You screamed, spreading your arms out so he could come and pick you up. You loved when he picked up, especially in his puffer jacket.
“Heyy baby.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips before picking you up. You swung your legs around his waist, bear-hugging him.
He closed the door behind the both of you and took off his shoes leading you to your bedroom and dropping you onto your bed.
“Where yo moms at?”
“Why cause you came here for her or for me?” you rolled your eyes flopping back into your bed.
“Don’t be like that ma, you aint tell me you were here on your own. I woulda been here earlier if I knew.”
“She just went grocery shopping Milo, she’ll be back.”
“Aight. You finna dance f’me then?” He laid back in your chair manspread. His elbows laid on your desk behind him.
“Oh right! watch the hips, you’ll needa learn this bit..” You restarted to music and threw the remote on your bed.
Miles licked his lips squinting at you with hooded eyes.
“Watch the hips…” You began whine again. This time you started off with a ‘tik tok’ motion, slowly moving into a slow circular motion with your hips. Your waist-beads moving along with you which made it all more intriguing for Miles.
You brought your hands to your hips caressing your shape up until you reached the sides of your stomach and came to a stop.
Miles was visibly in love with the way your hips moves so swiftly and like water. His eyes stayed stuck to your waist even after you stopped.
“Damn ma, youn tell me you could do all that.”
“Well now you know, and im finna teach you.. now get up i wanna show you how to kompa with me.”
You pulled Miles by his arm taking his puffer jacket off and throwing it onto your bed.
“Right first gimme your hands” You held your hands out to Miles as he placed both of his in yours. You lowered them down to sit on your waist.
“mmmm i like this already.”
“Shutup Miles.” You grinned at him
“Then.. i place my arms around your neck… like so.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and held your other arm with your hand since he basically towered over you.
“Now you look at me.”
“This is easy, I could look at you all day.”
“Miles stop, you can compliment me later.”
You brought his head down to lean against yours, he stared right into your eyes making your knees almost buckle. You tried to divert your gaze elsewhere so you could regain focus.
“Your meant to look at me back. Right? Eyes on me mami.” He lifted his hand up from your waist to tour chin, averting your gaze from the floor to his eyes. You felt as if you were going to collapse with the way he started so deeply into your soul.
“You lucky im holding onto you, you look like you abour to collapse.”
“Miles.”
“Right, sorry baby.” he stiffled a laugh
For the next hour you continued to teach Miles as you guided his hands and hip movements with your waist.
“And thenn… turn.”
You slowly spun around both still holding onto eachother, swaying your hips to the music.
“Yeahhh.” You slid your arms down to his shoulders grinning at him, ecstatic that he was learning so fast.
“Now here comes the hard part.” You returned to the same position, this time swaying your hips into his instead of side to side.
“Oh shitt.” Miles lost all composure staring down at your hips grinding into his at a rhythmic pace. Your cheeks begin to heat up as you smile a little at what he said.
“You can do that right? same time.”
“Shit, of course I can.”
Miles spun you around, then closing the gap between the two of you. Your body pressing gently against his, fit like a jigsaw piece.
Your hips both meeting in the middle while you swayed them into eachother, both looking into each-others eyes as Miles held onto either side of your waist guiding it into his.
[ visual : https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJ4eeBRc/ ]
You were both absorbed im each-others gaze not even realising the music had finished, and you continued for the next half an hour. Dancing in each others embrace.
After a while had passed you pulled away from miles.
“Fuck, ian know you were so good at kompa Milo? I woulda taught you ages ago.”
“Not better than you baby, lost all composure when your hips collided with mine.”
He made it to your waist before pulling you in for a kiss, bringing you as close to him as he could while deepening the kiss as you giggled. While his breath mingled with yours, your tongues danced over one another. When he intentionally nipped your lower lip, you let out a gentle whine pulling away.
“Fuck I love you so much.”
Extra :
— reader calls miles ‘milo’ because it works well with her Haitian accent
— Miles is actually a really good dancer
— Your mom came back from the supermarket ages ago, she watched you both dance in your room with a smile on her face.
— you had Miles dancing kompa with his pillow when he got home
“Miles? the fuck are you doing…” Uncle Aaron walked in on Miles waist dancing with his pillow.
“Yoo wtf, youn never heard of knocking?” Miles threw the pillow as far away as he could, dusting himself off.
“Ian even gonna ask mane.” Uncle Aaron shook his head with a laugh, closing the door in reverse.
© All rights reserved to @444morales on tumblr.
Please do not repost, translate or copy any of my work !
#🖋️ sierra writes#Spotify#miles morales#prowler x reader#e42 miles#spider man: across the spider verse#miles morales prowler#miles x reader#miles x y/n#miles morales x reader#across the spider verse fanart#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles fluff#earth 42 miles morales x black!reader
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Speak - Chapter 5
Word Count: 3.2K
Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf.
Chapter: 5/?
A/N: The long-awaited update is here!!!!!
This chapter is dedicated to @madcatlady for the hilarious ask.
It honestly made me laugh 😂😂 I really wanted to make this more of an enemies to lovers (I still can) but soft Paul makes me too happy. Also, the ending for this was gonna be different but I made it into the next chapter
If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories. You can request at any time any story or one-shot you desire. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.
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Chapter 5
(Y/N) had gone to bed with anger flowing through her veins. It made her burn up with rage, slowly bubbling up to the surface.
Bella had always been unconsciously selfish in her sister’s opinion. At least, she hoped it was unconscious. To (Y/N), her sister always found a way to make every situation about herself, and everyone allowed it. Her heartbreak had taken over her father’s life, threatened to take over their mother’s, and was slowly snaking its hands around hers. But Bella would not become the center of her life, she could not.
But the next morning, (Y/N)’s anger had seemingly dissipated. Even if Bella believed the world revolved around her, (Y/N) would not let hers do so. At the end of the day, it was Christmas – a day of happiness and forgiveness. She would enjoy it with or without her sister.
The smell of slightly burnt coffee filled her nostrils before she had opened her eyes and she knew her father was already up. Her excitement for the day was again replenished and she readied herself for a long afternoon. It was her first holiday back in the city of Forks, and the first Christmas she’d have in the town. Nothing would stand in the way of a good day.
“Morning, dad,” (Y/N) smiled at the flustered man. He had taken a sip of the scalding coffee. Not only did he burn his tongue, but he had to taste the awful batch. “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, merry Christmas, honey. I really am a menace in the kitchen.”
“Thankfully not on the grill,” she chuckled. “Why don’t you sit while I make a new batch and a light breakfast?”
“I guess I’m still not used to having you girls here,” he sighed. “Normally I’d just go down to the diner and get some food there. And now that Bella’s like… like that, I’ve had to take care of the food again.”
“Well, I’m here now. So don’t worry about that,” (Y/N) smiled. “We’ll just take it one day at a time and hope for the best. It’s the only thing we can do.”
“Then we should get ready soon to go over to Billy’s house,” Charlie responded, resigned. “Were you able to at least convince Bella to come?”
“No. She’s as stubborn as ever.”
“I really hoped she’d want to come. You both always enjoyed Christmas time.”
(Y/N) shrugged from the stove, the pan she shook scraping slightly the iron grates. She had hoped that, at least for this holiday, Bella would put her family first. Alas, her teenage angst took over and she was once more glued onto the swivel desk chair, overlooking the backyard. All she wanted was for her family to be together during such a special holiday – especially one that promoted togetherness. But all Bella could do or think of was the idiotic boy that had broken her heart.
"Whatever," (Y/N) spoke abruptly. “She’s the one that’s missing out. If she wants to stay at home and wallow in self-pity, so be it. We cannot let her consume every part of our lives.”
“(Y/N), she’s your sister,” Charlie said. “She’s sad and we can’t just leave her behind.”
“It’s not even for a whole day, dad. She’ll survive a couple of hours of staring out of that window,” she whined. “It’s your day off. It’s Christmas. We’re not gonna spend today trapped in the house because Bella has a bad case of the blues.”
“(Y/N)…”
“Dad,” (Y/N) said sternly. “We are gonna go to Uncle Billy’s house. We are going to celebrate Christmas. Then, we will come back home and find Bella in the same spot. But we deserve — you deserve — to put her in the back of our minds for a couple of hours and enjoy ourselves. And that’s an order, sheriff.”
“Alright, you win, (Y/N),” Charlie chuckled slightly. “And thanks again for breakfast. I promise one day I’ll get the hang of it.”
“There won’t be any need whilst I’m here, dad.”
After a small round of chitchat and the background noise of cutlery hitting the ceramic plates, the two of them left for their respective rooms to get ready for the day. Before going back downstairs, (Y/N) popped into Bella’s room where she was not surprised to see her sister sat staring out her window.
Her sister looked pitiful. Chair bound and frail. Heartbreak in the simplest definition. There was not a single trace of the girl she had grown up with. There was a Bella before Edward and the one that was left barely counted as a person.
(Y/N) entered the room, a wrapped present in her hands. She sauntered towed her sister, unsure of what Bella’s reaction — or lack thereof— would be.
“Hey, Bells,” she spoke softly, unsure of where they stood after the conversation they had the night before. “I got you this cause, after all, it is Christmas. I know you don’t want to come with us, but I still wanted to get you something. You can open it, or not. It’s really up to you. But, merry Christmas, sis.”
Silence seemed to be the prevailing answer.
“So, is she finally gonna come?” Charlie asked as (Y/N) exited Bella’s room. “Did she have a change of heart?”
“Nope,” she answered – she wasn’t a miracle worker. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna have a good time. Now, let’s go.”
As they drove down the streets to the reservation, Charlie and (Y/N) sang along badly to Christmas tunes. A white scenery blurred past them as they headed through the snow-covered streets of Forks, putting the older Swan daughter to the back of their mind. The air felt lighter, a weight lifted off their shoulders. They both felt like they could breathe, even if just for a little bit.
The red barn-like house came into view before they had realized that Forks was far behind them. As the truck rolled to a stop, Billy and Jake exited the house to greet their guests. A playful smile played on Jacob’s face when he saw his new girlfriend. A smile that Charlie Swan did not like.
“Now, (Y/N), I know that you two are now sort of together. But I don’t wanna see all that lovey-dovey stuff between you.”
“Dad,” she chuckled.
“No, seriously, (Y/N). I don’t wanna see it.”
“So, it’s okay as long as you don’t see it? Got it.”
“Don’t push it, kid.”
“Alright, dad. I’ll keep it low-key for you.”
With another giggle, (Y/N) stepped out of the cruiser, her hands packed with a bag filled with presents and a six-pack of beer. And from the back of the car, Charlie pulled the trays of food they had prepared.
“Here, let me help,” Jake told Charlie, grabbing hold of two of the four trays he was carrying.
Charlie tried his best to hide his feelings of slight anger toward the boy. He’d known him since he was a baby but seeing him get so close to his daughter unnerved him. Still, he answered, “Yeah, thanks, Jake.”
“Hey, Jake,” (Y/N) smiled, kissing Jake’s cheek.
“Hey, (Y/N).”
“Alright you two, keep it moving,” Charlie grumbled. “And, again, I don’t wanna see any funny stuff between you.”
He walked in front of them, saying hi to Billy as he walked into the house to put the trays down. Everyone could notice the annoyance on his face. As much as he loved Jake, it was one thing for him to be his best friend’s son; it was another for him to date his youngest daughter.
“How’ve you been, Billy?” (Y/N) asked as she made her way into the house and the man rolled inside.
“Very good, (Y/N),” he smiled. “So, Jake and you, when did that happen?”
She chuckled in response. “It started at the bonfire, but it’s been a long time coming. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Well, between you and me, you’ve always been my favorite of Charlie’s youngest daughters.”
“It’d be weird if I wasn’t.”
“I truly hope this union is of benefit to the both of you,” Billy said, placing a comforting hand on her forearm. “If it is meant to be, I’m sure your father will come around sooner or later.”
“Waiting for sooner rather than later,” she sighed. “It’s kind of hard to see where this is going when dad is breathing down our necks every time we’re in the same room.”
“He means well,” he chuckled. “Charlie’s very new to this whole parenting teenagers thing. It’s hard to see your kids grow up so quickly. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll keep him by the barbecue as much as I can so you two can have some alone time.”
“Thanks, uncle Billy.”
In her happiness, (Y/N) missed Billy’s knowing gaze. He knew something neither of them did. Deep down, he knew the pair would not last long – there were other forces in play. But if this is what they wanted, for now, he would never interfere. Young love was hard to come by if that’s what this was.
They entered the kitchen and laughed as they witnessed Jacob’s pleading face. Charlie had not let down his menacing stare as he prepped the meat they would cook. Though his hands worked on the food, his eyes glared at the boy relentlessly.
“Hey, Charlie, got the grill up and running already,” Billy announced. “Why don’t we put this thing to cook already?”
“But I’m not done yet.”
“I think you are,” he chuckled. “Come on, let’s go.”
Charlie grumbled as he left through the backdoor with Billy and back into the snow, leaving the two teenagers on their own. With a smile of mischief, Jake and (Y/N) crossed the small kitchen and were finally able to engage in a hello kiss.
“Hey,” she whispered as they parted from each other.
“Hey, back,” Jacob chuckled. “Your dad was close to shooting me there.”
“Well, you did kiss his youngest daughter in front of him,” (Y/N) teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And you’re the first boyfriend I’ve introduced to him. Look how well that turned out for Bella.”
“But you’re not Bella,” he said. “And I’m not Edward.”
“That is very correct,” she laughed before pecking his lips. “You’re way better.”
“You could say that again,” Jake grinned. “Also, how many boyfriends didn’t make the cut?”
“Why? Are you jealous, Jake?”
“Just want to know what I’m up against.”
“Believe me, none of them match up to you.”
Suddenly, the sound of a screen door startled them apart. Charlie walked in, the angry scowl still on his face. He muttered under his breath as he opened the drawers in the kitchen, finally finding tongs. And as he left once more, he shot them another glare.
The pair couldn’t help but burst out in laughter as they watched Charlie’s figure disappear through the door. They understood where the father was coming from. Opening himself to having another daughter get her heart broken was too much for a technically “new” father.
But as much as they understood him, it didn’t mean they would try too hard to make him comfortable. They were young, a little reckless, and very excited to be in a relationship – at least (Y/N) was.
As the adults chatted outside, cooking the meat and drinking beers, Jake and (Y/N) gravitated toward the couch, cuddling on the seat. The fireplace was on and the radio was set on a jazz station, playing a song neither of them knew.
“So,” (Y/N) spoke up, looking at Jacob from his chest. “I know we said we wouldn’t do gifts, but I got you something.”
“(Y/N), you promised,” he chuckled. “Although, I will admit I also got you a little something as well. You go first.”
(Y/N) stood up and went to get the wrapped gift she had placed behind the tree. She was excited. It was their first Christmas together ever, and more importantly, their first as a couple. She had dreamed of this moment since they were kids.
Jake followed behind, grabbing the bag he had packed his gift into. He was sure they had both gotten each other small things. They hadn’t been together for that long and there wasn’t anything riding in the presents.
“So, I know you’ve been saying for a while that you needed these for a while, and they were very hard to get.”
Jacob’s eyes were wide in surprise as he unwrapped the box in his hands. (Y/N) had gotten him a pair of Timberland boots with a steel toe. He had dropped one too many tools onto his foot whilst working on cars and he was in desperate need of these shoes.
“Wow, (Y/N)! This must have put a dent in your wallet.”
“It’s worth it,” she smiled into the hug he gave her.
“Well, here’s yours,” he tried to pull a smile, but he knew it wouldn’t even compare. “It’s not as good, but I didn’t have much time.”
“That’s okay,” (Y/N) responded. She knew whatever he had gotten her would be meaningful and caring, a testament to who he was. And she was very confident in it until she finally saw it. “A… candle.”
“It’s got a nice smell,” Jacob chuckled awkwardly. “I thought you’d like the smell… I know. It sucks.”
“No. It’s, um, it’s nice.” (Y/N) was trying to hide her disappointment. She’d seen this type of candle. They sold them at the gas stations in the area as passersby souvenirs. “I’ll put it by my bed and I’ll think about you every time I light it. I love it. Thanks.”
“And I will basically live in these boots,” he boasted. “I love them.”
“I’m glad.”
It was hard for (Y/N) to keep her dismay at bay. She smiled, talked, and laughed through dinner, but it was hard. Jacob could have gotten the candle that morning – zero thought and preparation had gone into the gift. She would have preferred he stuck to nothing. Even that would have been better since he would have kept the promise.
Instead, she was left with a gas station candle that smelled like apples that had been stuffed into a red bag. She was allergic to apples. They made her throat itch and her eyes swell, it had been years since she had even smelled one. Though thankfully, this one was laced with a fake fruit smell, she couldn’t wait to store it in the deepest corners of her closet.
Whilst they were enjoying the pumpkin pie she had made, a knock resounded through the door. The four people in attendance stared at each other.
“Are you expecting anyone else?” Charlie asked, wiping off the whipped cream that had accumulated on his mustache. “Though it’d be just us tonight.”
“We aren’t,” Billy responded. “It’s a bit late for that.”
“I’ll check who it is,” (Y/N) offered, quickly standing. “It’s probably a tourist that got lost. You guys carry on.”
As the men went on with their conversation, (Y/N) went to see who was at the door. It was Christmas night, whilst it was snowing. If it was a tourist, they were crazy to be out at that time.
But when she opened the door, she was surprised that not only was it not a tourist, but it was Paul Lahote standing there in shorts and a tank top. His hair was dusted with white snowflake specs, the ones on his skin melting away right after contact.
(Y/N) was quick to close the door behind her. If there was anything she didn’t want it was for Jake and Paul to get into an altercation with her father and Billy around.
“Paul,” she chuckled as she pulled her jacket closer to her body. “What’re you doing here?”
“I was actually hoping to run into you here,” he responded. “This may sound weird, but I, uh I got you something.”
He handed her a rectangular box beautifully wrapped in red metallic paper with a white bow for decoration. She could tell he had taken his time to wrap the present – or had asked someone skilled to do it for him. By the cover alone she knew he had put care into the present.
“Can I open it now?”
“Please,” he smiled. “Go ahead.”
Carefully, she undid the paper, not wanting to even rip it, and she pulled a long box from inside. When she lifted the lid, she gasped. Inside a gorgeously crafted dreamcatcher, with cream feathers and colorful beads rested. Attached to the rim, a wooden wolf totem was attached. It was simple, it was thoughtful, it was beautiful.
“Oh, Paul, it’s stunning,” she said. “But you didn’t have to. I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I just saw it at a local shop, and it reminded me of you. The wolf totem, it’s for protection. The wolf is supposed to help you manifestmore protection, better instincts, and stronger relationships in your life.”
“Seriously, Paul, it’s beautiful.”
Without knowing it, she was beaming. The surge of happiness that grew inside her was unfathomable, and she found herself wrapping him in a hug. This stranger had gotten her a more thoughtful gift than her boyfriend and friend.
Paul stiffened at first, surprised at the sudden show of affection. But instantly melted into her embrace, wrapping his own arms around her.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he smiled to himself. But the moment was cut short. From far inside the woods, a wolf called out to his pack, saying it was time to change shifts. “Uh, that was all. I just wanted to give you this. I should be heading back home now.”
“Oh.” Was she disappointed? “Then, I promise one day I’ll repay the favor.”
“There’s really no need.”
“I insist,” she said with a bright smile. “Seriously, Paul. This actually means a lot. Thank you.”
“Sure thing,” Paul smiled, running his hand through the back of his neck. “I’ll see you around. And, Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”
Before she could answer him, Paul seemed to vanish. (Y/N) couldn’t see his body anywhere close. So, she spoke to the air, “Merry Christmas, Paul.”
(Y/N) was quick to hide the gift in the car, under her seat. If she went back into the house with it, she was sure it would only cause discord with Jacob and her father. It was better if neither of them knew about one of the best gifts anyone had ever gotten her.
“Who was it?” Charlie called out when he saw his daughter walking back into the house. “You were out there for some time.”
“Oh, just a couple of tourists that got lost leaving the rez.”
“Tourists?” Jacob questioned. “Today of all days?”
“It was a newlywed couple, on a honeymoon road trip.”
“Mmm, young love,” Billy smiled toward (Y/N). It made her question if he had seen who she was actually speaking to. “What a great gift it is.”
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#paul lahote#paul lahote imagine#paul lahote x y/n#paul lahote x reader#twilight#twilight fanfiction#the twilight saga#twilight saga#twlight#twilight fan fiction#twilight imagine#paul lahote smut#paul lahote series#speak#fan fic#fan fiction#fanfiction#fanfic#jacob black#jacob black imagine#billy black#charlie swan#edward cullen#isabella swan#bella swan#alice cullen#jasper hale#emmett cullen#rosalie hale#esme cullen
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I Am Perfectly Normal About Step by Step Episode 7
Sighs.
Dear readers, I do not have time for this. I have trainings to make, I have shows to catch up on, I have practice to go to. But alas
Here I am
Once again
Overanalyzing the fuck out of the body language in my silly little gay Thai shows.
Because the BODY LANGUAGE in this episode??????????? HELLO?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!
GOD! Jeng and Pat’s interactions are putting worms in my brain. ALRIGHT, LET’S BEGIN
First off:
Jeng
When Jaab calls Jeng to accuse him of secretly dating Pat, Jeng immediately starts closing himself off, because he may not currently be secretly dating Pat, but Jeng is head over heels obsessed with Pat already and is trying to hide his feelings, from his brother and from himself by placing his arm across his chest and slouching to hide himself a little better. But of course, he is incapable of truly hiding his feelings for Pat because his whole apartment is BLUE which is Pat’s color.
And Jeng is nervous, like he knows that he has feelings for Pat, and now he knows that his feelings are obvious enough to his baby brother who is friends with his crush and if his brother knows, then who else knows? Jeng is constantly moving in this scene, he is folding and then unfolding his arms, he is turning forward and then backward, he is pacing!!
When Jeng gets the news from Jaab that Pat is dating someone, his back is turned to the camera. He is facing Pat’s color, but he is in the final stages of trying to hide his feelings by giving the audience nothing but the nervous scratching of his neck to read.
Until he sinks under the weight of the news that Pat is taken, at which point he sits down on his desk and then his nervous energy is transferred to his fingers, which are fidgeting as he considers whether or not to ask Jaab “Who is Pat seeing?”
Edit: peace, love, and my firstborn to @respectthepetty who has granted me a gif of Mr. Fidget
But he freezes, only shifting the grip he has on his phone while he waits for Jaab’s answer. After Jaab replies Jeng is constantly moving some part of his body: his arm, and then his torso as he takes a deep breath, and then his head as he looks down.
Jeng, Pat, Put Round One:
It does not take long for Jeng to figure out who the secret boyfriend is, because Jeng is totally platonically interested in Pat’s life, Jeng is in fact ~completely normal~ about this man. Jeng certainly would never see Put’s wallet, after already having one subtle “he’d not interested in you anymore” at the aquarium with Put, and immediately put the pieces together.
gif from @earthpirapat
Nor would he spend his work hours sulking because he sees Put and Pat flirting with each other...
gif from @earthpirapat
And he 100% most definitely would not need to be physically pulled away from Pat by his brother, because seeing Pat and Put together has made Jeng forget all workplace decorum, and Jeng, who has been unaware of how far over the line he has actually crossed with Pat over the last few episode, is now no longer capable of hiding his intentions while in a workplace setting.
Especially not when he is wearing a light blue button up shirt, because he’s trying to be neutral but his feelings for Pat are still seeping through.
This is less a body language note, and more a body placement note, but Pat is positionally closer to Jeng than he is to Put in this scene.
Put and Pat
With the flirting we get between Put and Pat during the interview, we can see how they might work together as a couple. There is some illusion at least of playfulness and familiarity, they are feeling strongly enough towards each other that they aren’t capable of being 100% professional during that shoot (and neither is Jeng) because he’s too busy looking like a kicked puppy.
But when we return to Pat’s home, where he and Put are sharing a meal, suddenly the vibe is very different.
The lighting is dark and white and cold, with a hint of warmth from the lamp in the corner behind Pat, Pat who spends the first part of the meal smiley and trying to engage Put in conversation. But Put is too busy on his phone to pay much attention. In fact, for the entire time that Put and Pat are eating together they do not make eye contact. Only after Pat says that he is full and tries to leave the table, does Put meet his eye.
This is starkly different than when Pat and Jeng are in the kitchen together:
gif from @smittenskitten
Here the lighting is bright and warm, golden and more natural in feeling, and Jeng and Pat dedicate too much time to eye contact. Drawn to one another, rather than trying to pick up a connection that was lost years ago.
The incompatibility continues when Pat has his breakdown on the commercial set. We saw in the earlier dinner scene that Pat is sensitive and that Put, like Jeng, is capable of hurting Pat’s feelings. However, Put only comforts Pat when he himself has made an inappropriate/slightly mean comment about the noodles Pat made, knowing that he fucked up. When the going gets tough, and Pat succumbs to intentional external aggression from Chris’ mom, only Chot reaches out to comfort Pat.
Put won’t even look Pat in the eye.
Pat runs off to have a #hotgirlmeltdown behind a trailer and Jeng shows up. And this is where I start to go feral, because the HANDS the BODY LANGUAGE the way Jeng is constantly trying to keep himself in check. The way he starts to reach out to take Pat’s wrist, and then immediately pulls his arm back, because he knows that is not an appropriate touch between a boss and an employee. Between Yutaka’s split second reach for Minoru’s hand and Jeng’s split second reach for Pat’s hand I am being personally victimized by the gay yearning of fictional Asian men.
gif by @pharawee
Jeng looks at Pat approximately a thousand times, trying to figure out what to do, his body making all these little movements like he keeps considering whether or not he should touch Pat, if he can comfort Pat, how he can comfort Pat.
And Pat leaves him no choice, Pat and Jeng are hidden behind a trailer away from the eyes of the rest of the office, and Pat is too distraught to be thinking about appropriate workplace decorum, and instead seeks comfort from a person who he has feelings for, who has made him feel valued, and supported, and listened to in a way that no one else really has.
gif from @pharawee
And again, the body language, especially from Man is exquisite here. Jeng is stiff, he doesn’t initially relax into the hug, again his brain catches up to his heart, and he starts to reach out to complete the hug, to touch Pat’s shoulder or arm, and again he stops himself. Jeng’s initial response to this hug is handled in such a way that someone walking by would not read the encounter as romantic. The first few moments of this hug are truly just Pat needing comfort, and his boss being the only person around.
But as Pat continues to cry, Jeng gives in. He finally touches Pat and the second that he completes the hug, the second that his hand makes contact with Pat’s arm, it’s over. There is no more plausible deniability. This is an extremely unprofessional hug, this is a “oh no the boy I like is sad and I must comfort him” hug. Because Jeng makes contact with Pat’s arm and then leans his head down to rest his chin on Pat’s head.
gif from @pharawee
And it does not leave until Pat finally calms down and breaks the hug.
So, here’s the thing, it’s not entirely Put’s fault. Like, when Put is being attentive to Pat it seems to go well (the tickling scene from earlier) but his priority is work, and his priority has always been work. Put can’t be seen getting too comfortable with people, on set Put can’t really engage in the behaviors a boyfriend would, Put is still at the will of his manager. But Put left Pat last time in part to pursue a career, and those same things that pulled them apart last time have not gone away.
Whether Pat realizes it at the moment (and I don’t think he does) getting back together with Put is a last ditch, desperate attempt to try to channel his feelings for Jeng somewhere else. At one point he used to love Put, at one point he and Put seemed to really work together, he can have fun with Put, he and Put know each other, Put is more comfortable with his sexuality now. It could be easy, it could be easy to forget his feelings for Jeng, it could be easy to find the feelings he once had for Put.
But…
And to Put’s credit, he is extremely forgiving and patient, he says they can take it slow. The whole time they were interspersing teasing with kissing with talking Put and Pat are constantly touching each other, stroking their thumb along a shoulder, running their fingers through each other’s hair. They are comforting touches, they are familiar touches. They are touches that Pat can’t get from Jeng.
But it doesn’t feel the same, and they both know it, and where Put seems willing to give it time, I think there is a part of him that knows this is not going to work out. Pat is too in love with Jeng. I want to shout out the post by @chicademartinica because it analyzes the use of barriers as a way of showing that Put is trapped outside of Pat’s world.
So Pat goes to the party, and he drinks and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks because it is easier to get drunk and forget that he can’t ignore his feelings for Jeng, and so that he could, as @shortpplfedup so aptly identified in conversation, have some deniability.
Pat goes to the party and before long he is sitting next to Jeng. Because Pat is also not able to control himself as much as he should. To my mind, Pat is his usual amount of light hearted tease with Jeng, making digs at his breakdown, trying to rope Jeng in to singing karaoke with him, etc. but Jeng, who is at least a glass of wine in, if not more, is uh…much much much more obvious then he usually is.
Listen, I know what you are all going to say when you read the next sentence, but you know what I mean. Man is a physicality beast. He is an expert in knowing where and how to place macro and micro expressions. He knows when Jeng is supposed to read awkward and stiff, he knows when Jeng is supposed to read comfortable and relaxed. I am struck, watching this couch scene, by how many times Jeng looks out the corner of his eye in Pat’s direction without ever turning his head to face him, when Pat leans in to suggest they sing karaoke together.
When he turns to face Pat, he is only able to keep his eyes on him for a second at a time, he keeps turning his head almost 180* in the opposite direction every few seconds, changing his body position, smiling, Jeng literally cannot help himself. He’s already had to rein himself in once, almost making a comment about Pat that would not have been work appropriate.
Pat gets drunker, Pat in fact gets obviously drunker, but we aren’t really certain where Jeng lies in his inebriation levels. Which is fun because that means we get to decide if he is looking at Pat and saying “I will still be there” SO SINCERELY because he is also buzzed/tipsy/drunk and therefore no longer fast enough to stop his mouth. Or if he is deciding to be bold because he knows that Pat and Put are together and he wants to show Pat he is interested. Or if he thinks that Pat will have a repeat of last time, and blackout and not remember everything that Jeng has said.
It is harder to tell on Jeng than on Pat, but I am pretty sure that Jeng’s cheeks are at least a little flushed, and let’s be real
gif from @junghaesin
This man is under the influence. Of what? Alcohol? Love? Doesn’t matter, Jeng has gone full Heart Eyes, Motherfucker at the work function. Rest in peace to everyone, and especially Chot who is going to have to deal with their stupid, sorry, gay asses.
Pat continues to drink, and then, OOP:
gif from @smittenskitten
Jeng has an excuse to take Pat’s wrist, plausible deniability “I was trying to stop him from drinking more” but honey, that hand stays on the wrist for way longer than #justcoworkers should touch.
And then Pat chugs the rest of it, and Jeng tries to stop him, and he freezes and for just a second, Pat’s wrist once again passes across Jeng’s fingertips. This time, just brushing together as Pat moves his glass back to the table.
gif from @smittenskitten
Moving on to my absolute favorite part of the entire episode. THE SHIRT SCENE. Yes, I know this scene is probably more accurately referred to as The Grass Jelly scene or the Drunken Hallway Conversation scene but I DO NOT CARE. I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE ACCURATE, I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE APPROPRIATE, ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THIS:
gif from @earthpirapat
“Mr. Jeng can make grass jelly” Pat says, drunkenly, as he tugs at Jeng’s shirt with enough unsteady force to knock them both back into the wall. You can see the top of this man’s boxers. Does Jeng seem bothered by it? No. Does Jeng seem angry about it? No. Does Jeng try to switch drunken men to support when Pat starts being overly familiar with his tank top? No.
What does he do?
HE. LOOKS. DOWN.
He does not protest. Pat’s faculties are gone and all that is left is Pat’s affection for Jeng. He wants to eat grass jelly because that is a food he associates with Jeng. (Let’s be real here, Pat doesn’t want to eat grass jelly, Pat wants to eat Jeng). Pat plays with Jeng’s shirt because he can’t help but touch Jeng.
To be completely honest with you, whatever the implications of the grass jelly are, whatever the implications of Jeng just watching this happen, dead fucking silent, I don’t care. I care about how comfortable and familiar it is, and they aren’t even together yet. I don’t care how much sexual tension is acting as an undercurrent to that interaction, I simply think this is so goddamn fucking cute!
As for the rest of the drunk man shuffle, the benefit of having a Certified Tol Boi like Man, is that Jeng can hold Pat’s hand and cup his chest without it inherently coming off as inappropriate to outsiders, because he is so tall that only Pat’s wrist is really the only thing that can sit somewhere on Jeng’s shoulder that Jeng can grab. Jeng simply must hold Pat’s wrist and/or hand, and he’s slipping more towards Pat’s hand. Convenient.
This is less a body language analysis and more a “in case you didn’t notice because I did not notice at first and @shortpplfedup had to tell me” JENG TAKES OFF PAT’S SHOES.
Between this and the t-shirt grab, my brain just wants to spin and spin and spin towards all the domesticity they could have if they were allowed to be a couple right now.
And now, dear readers, I am coming to a close. If you have gotten this far, again I marvel because, holy shit this is literally so long, and for what?
So I will end with this, Jeng is a goner, and we’re heading towards the break in the dam. Jeng and Pat have tried to keep their feelings for each other at bay. Jeng has tried to be professional about this, Pat has explicitly made an effort Not To Date His Boss. They have failed. Pat failed the moment he stopped kissing Put, and he failed again the moment he grabbed Jeng’s shirt. (and also a bunch more times, see: eating together before he knew who Jeng was, see: furniture shopping, see: putting on the chef’s hat, see: watching fireworks together). Jeng has been failing the entire goddamn time. God he tried so hard in the beginning, when he learned Pat was going to be his employee, he pulled back initially, he gave critiques, he did not play favorites, but it did not take long for Jeng to come up with more and more excuses for why something was work appropriate. “Oh you won’t have time to go home before the gala, just shower at my place”, “Oh, I’m only available on Sunday for a meeting, just come to my place”, “Oh, I didn’t know where you lived so I let you sleep at my place,”, “Oh, the rooms weren’t booked properly, why don’t you share my place?”
But where are we at the end of Episode 7?
Jeng is, in the light of day, with his employees milling about the room, looking Pat in the face and saying that the video of him drunk is, and I quote “pretty cute.” which means, by extension, Jeng is calling drunk!Pat “pretty cute”, which means that, by extension, Jeng is calling Pat “pretty cute”. Narak indeed, Jeng, narak indeed. So, all caution has been thrown to the wind, Jeng is over trying to be professional, it’s time to officially enter Jeng’s “I Lost Focus and Had A Consensual Workplace Relationship” Era.
#step by step#step by step the series#patjeng#jengpat#pat x jeng#jeng x pat#dee hup house#thai bl#man trisanu#ben bunyapol#up poompat#bruce sirikorn#people better read this post it took me four hours to write#there was a w-k-a before the shirt tug and there was a w-k-a after the shirt tug#and they are not the same person
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This idea, based on the Blood of My Blood AU, got stuck in my head and I had to write it! (Sorry @animate-mush, the cylinders didn't make it into this scene because I was trying to keep it from being like 10,000 words long, alas.) Featuring Jack with his prosthetic hand and destroyed vocal cords, and Vampire Quincey Harker trying to make sense of what he is.
Big TW for suicidal ideation.
~~~
Jack was up late, as usual; he'd just heard the clock strike midnight, but he was scribbling corrections on the latest draft of his paper about therapeutic treatments for epilepsy, due the day after tomorrow to a scientific journal. He paused to push up his glasses and scrub at his eyes. Even though he'd been keeping a nocturnal existence for years, he felt exhausted.
He heard a soft knock on his door.
He looked up in surprise; Lu was usually fast asleep by now, and Arthur would not have knocked. But why would one of the servants be disturbing him at this hour? He turned his pen over and tapped it against his desk three times, which signaled to come in. However, the door didn't open, and then the knock came again. Ah. He knew exactly who it was, now.
He walked quickly to the door and opened it. Quincey Harker stood in the pitch-black hallway, his pupils contracting as light from Jack's study flooded in on him. He was even paler than usual, and trembling slightly.
It was remarkable how much he managed to look like both Jonathan and Mina: he carried himself like his father, that same grave politeness, but had the quick, clever look about him that Mina had always had. "Dr. Seward," he said, his voice sounding empty. "I need to talk to you."
Whatever he was here for, it couldn't be good. Jack nodded to him, ushering him inside, and gesturing him over to his desk. He cleared the papers and set up a one-handed typewriter (they had one in every room of the house, in case Jack needed to mention some technical language that they didn't have a sign for yet). He bade Quincey pull up a chair so they could sit next to each other, and he put in a fresh sheet of paper. He wished Quincey knew his sign language, but this would have to do for now.
Jack gestured to him, raising both eyebrows to invite him to speak.
Quincey hesitated a long time, clenching and unclenching his hands on his knees. At last, he spoke with a dead serious voice. "Dr. Seward, I need you to kill me."
For an instant, he couldn't breathe.
He heard Mina's voice in her son's: the vow he had taken, the vow he had failed.
But he also heard his own words, typed out on a typewriter very much like this one, letter by letter since he wasn't fluent yet, as Arthur stood there with tears in his eyes.
>>Let me die<< Jack had typed, all those years ago.
And Arthur had said, "No."
(That day, Jack had grabbed the typewriter with his remaining hand and hurled it through the window.)
(And then he had kept living.)
He shook his head, trying to rattle himself back into the present moment, to this child— this vampire child, this child who should not be able to exist— trembling in the chair before him. Quincey was staring at his hands now, his breath stuttering as if trying to hold back tears, and Jack had to reach over to touch his shoulder to get him to look up at him.
Quincey raised his head; his eyes were brimming with what appeared to be blood, which sent a stab of alarm through Jack before he wondered if this was how vampires cried. Focus, he told himself. He reached out to the typewriter and typed one word on the blank page:
>>Why?<<
Quincey gritted his teeth, and held his chin up almost defiantly. God, he looked just like Jonathan right then. "Because I am a monster."
Jack stared at him: the blood welling up as tears, the pallor of his skin, the fangs protruding from his mouth. All the elements that had once raised only fear and terror and disgust in himself.
Without looking away from him, Jack placed his hand on the typewriter and typed out the words: >>Who told you that?<<
Quincey stared at him as if the answer should be obvious, and Jack raised his eyebrows again, keeping his face calm.
"I read the journals that Lord Godalming gave me," Quincey said, staring at him as if challenging him.
Jack gave out a small, pained sound, and slumped back in his chair. Of course Arthur would do something like that. Of course Arthur would want to share the documents, to not keep secrets. And yet, Arthur had so little to lose by doing so: he had barely any words of his own in the collection of documents. But Jack's words… all those things he had said and done, the record of his wrongs and mistakes, seemed to rise from the past and choke him.
"I read Papa's words," Quincey continued, still staring him down with those crimson eyes, "the stories of the way he met Father. Everything I've known— everything I am— is horrifying to him." His gaze was steady, but his fangs bared. "And to all of you." The blood-tears slipped from one of his eyes and dripped down his face. "I need you to kill me."
Jack reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. Then he decisively shook his head, and mouthed the word, No.
"You have to!" Quincey burst out, shaking off Jack's hand and jumping to his feet. "You know what I am! I've learned what I am through your words. I thought you of all people would understand!" He whirled to face him again, and the snarl on his face sent all the hair on Jack's neck rising in instinctive fear. "What about Lu's namesake? You were disgusted by her. You loathed her. You said yourself that you would kill her with pleasure when she became like— like me!" He was shaking so hard he looked like he might fall apart.
Jack fought to keep his expression calm; every word hit him like a knife, as if Jonathan's son was slashing into his throat as surely as Jonathan had. (Any moment he would wake up drowning in his own blood…) But these were old wounds, and though they bled anew, the pain was familiar.
Once again, Quincey seemed to have forgotten that Jack could only talk when Quincey was looking at him, and he had to put a hand on his shoulder again. Quincey pulled away, but he had his attention now. Jack motioned to the chairs, and Quincey sank down, blood-tears now trickling down his face.
Jack hesitated a long moment, unsure how to sum up everything he wanted to say. No, it was impossible. So he typed three words:
>>I was wrong.<<
Jack gulped, staring at the inadequate words he'd typed. He looked at Quincey with all the remorse he felt, wishing desperately that Quincey understood sign language. It was like being back to the beginning of his great silence, when all he could do was scrawl illegible words on paper, or pick at the typewriter to learn to type for the first time. He pointed at the words again, and with his prosthetic hand he beat his breast in a sign of penitence.
Quincey just stared at him, at a loss. Jack made a nervous hum, then started to type, trying to get his typed words to keep pace with his thoughts.
>>You don't have the whole story. When your mum began to turn, your papa loved her just as much. He never stopped loving her.<< He paused, making the only rumbling sound that his throat would make, frustrated at how hard it was to put his thoughts into words this way. >>In the end, he defended her from us. I paid the price for trying to harm her.<<
Quincey's eyes grew wide. He had stopped crying, and the blood was drying on his face now.
Jack held up his prosthetic hand meaningfully, and touched the scar that snaked along his neck. And how could he convey the enormity of the other losses— of Quincey and Van Helsing bleeding out in the snow? He would never forgive the Harkers for that. But he did not need to. >>I did what I thought I must do. So did he.<<
He might not have forgiven them, but he did not blame them.
Quincey slumped in his chair, his shoulders dropping. When he looked up, there was something incredibly young and vulnerable in his face. "…Doesn't that make you hate me even more?"
The old Jack would have hated him, perhaps. But he was not his old self. He was not a 29-year-old who felt invincible in his pride and intelligence. He was not a man who drew hard lines and separated everything he experienced into those two sides. He was fifty now, silent for 21 years, and had learned to live with the complexity of gray, of nuance, of the ache of not knowing.
If Quincey could understand, he could have signed all this. But Quincey could not, so Jack just typed, >>You are proof that love can survive in all places.<< He paused, then added, >>You are a good man.<<
He didn't expect Quincey to burst into tears again, but he did, hunching over in his chair and sobbing. Once, Jack had not known what to do when someone broke down, but now he did not hesitate, leaning over and wrapping both arms around the boy. Quincey leaned into his hug, still sobbing messily. "I'm not, I'm not!" Quincey wailed. "I'm not…"
Jack wished that he could speak the words aloud, could repeat over and over, You are a good man.
Instead he just hugged him, holding him as he rode the wave of emotions, trying to help him learn, as Jack himself had once learned, that the answer to Please let me die would always be No.
At last Quincey cried himself out, and his breaths grew longer and slower. Jack pulled away and offered him a handkerchief, trying his best not to be unnerved by the amount of blood-tears that had marked his jacket (Arthur was going to have another nervous breakdown when he saw the stains, he thought with a sigh).
When he had Quincey's attention again, he pulled out the sheet of paper, and tore off the last line, pressing it into his hand. >>You are a good man.<< Jack smiled at him as best he could, willing him to believe it.
Quincey gulped. And then slowly, he nodded, crinkling the paper in his hand. With a little sob, he slumped over again, resting his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack pulled him back into a tight embrace.
He doubted that Quincey believed him, at least not at the moment. But he didn't need to. Jack and Lu and hopefully even Arthur would believe it for him. And someday, he hoped that Quincey would believe it for himself, too.
~~~
#my writing#blood of my blood#quincey harker#jack seward#dracula (novel)#suicidal thoughts tw#now i'm second-guessing some of it but y'know what i'm posting it anyway
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pyromaniac dean au always on my damn mind bc i saw this post by @autisticandroids and my brain went hmmm what if Lisa and Ben were in the pyromaniac au. and like yes okay technically i thought we were doing like a s1 thing but also this is an au so who cares no rules.
anyway. what if in between John dying and Jess murder there was like this small period of time when dean did kind of stop setting people and things on fire, but like it didn't stick and also Lisa and Ben were involved probably possibly. like v close to canon parallel. i am still thinking about why he would stop the arson, even temporarily. but I think he should. I think cas should also have started stalking him at this point!!! this is p much fully reassembling the fic events but also MMM IT'S GETTING MORE FUN I THINK!
thinking out loud again. and like with Ben it was a) dean going insane about protecting ben from hunting to the point that he is john-like with him for the opposite reasons — normal parental overcorrection in people I think tbh w you. and b) he did inadvertently cause whatever harm befell those two and then he had to, like, functionally murder them and then he just kept going like that.
w my arsonist dean, it really is just all about control and trying to ground yourself in some version of reality when you're coming unmoored. he has an obsession with fire from a young age and sets controlled fires bc he's fucked up about fire and what not having control over it can do. he becomes a firefighter bc in his head that is also a way to control it. he starts committing crimes when his father dies bc that is a trauma that kind of sends him reeling ala empty spaces dean and like doing this thing where he's orchestrating the lives of these people is doing sth to him I think. he's projecting on everyone and he's saving himself but it's like never enough.
so the only reason he would have to stop arson would be if he was able to, like, exercise that control over his life in some way. a stable relationship dynamic is good, a ritual is good, a kind of mindless droning on of life where everything is exactly as he expects it to be is good, it's grounding. I think ultimately it doesn't work bc it's not good for the other people in the situation. like!!! obviously!!! also it's just not sustainable. it's impossible to truly control every aspect of your life and dean cannot handle the slightest bit of deviation from his Plan™. like so I think the break can be slow bc he starts freaking out over small things like someone not turning off a light or not locking a door or something like that. but it's all a v mild reaction all things considered and within the realm of acceptable. but also I think Lisa is On Edge bc she's not an idiot.
thinking about what would push dean over the edge when he's in this domestic farce of a situation. like I thought about maybe ben getting into his office or something — places, things, he's designated as Personal and like Don't Fucking Touch It. and it's like bc he's in such a precarious state of mind, he's like twigs and duct tape yk? so perhaps he blows up at the kid. and it's like literally nothing. it could just be a really cool looking zeppo or whatever that's on his desk and Ben takes it bc he just wants to show off to his friends or sneak out and smoke a cigarette like a normal 12 y/o. anyway he blows up at the kid and maybe Lisa is like nope. get out. that's it. line crossed.
or maybe he does have a come to Jesus moment almost immediately and they Talk About It as a family and he's like trying to make amends or whatever. either way. glass is cracked now.
idk how but I think it would be fun if there was another fire now in this house (lolololol IM SORRY i just think everything dean touches should be on fire bc of him I think the universe can affirm that to him over and over let him hurt everyone he loves and then go crazy like!!!) and like smoke inhalation CAN cause a coma!! (well like it's cyanide and/or CO poisoning technically but yk.) so maybe ben does go into a coma. maybe dean and lisa look at each other and Lisa like lowkey knows he's doing fucked up shit but she's also like I am not killing myself and my son over this get out like i don't wanna see you I don't wanna hear from you go get your head on straight somewhere and if you think you can handle being normal then maybe we can talk but no get out.
and dean leaves bc he also senses that she senses that sth is v wrong with him and about him, and he realises that he's really just gotta find some way to fix his fucking life and he tries to change so he tries to go find sam and then he kills Jess (still not sure if the fire is on purpose or an accident!) and becomes full crazy i think.
ps: just like as a random possible addition to this already convoluted au, cas being the one to somehow laterally be involved in causing the fire and also the rescue w lisa ben (for canon parallels also bc i just think he's so funny in this fic like why isnhe doing this??? no reason he's just a freak and he's obsessed.)
pps: honestly in the state that he is!!! jess' fire can fully not be his fault, but he still is around and Fails To Save Her and sam could just end up putting the pieces together for other stuff and he connects the right dots but like his main dot is not connected to all that!! but bc he's also obsessive and crazy he's like IM GONNA KILL YOUUU
anyway. ANYWAYY.
#pyromaniac dean au#random additions#lisa & ben things#spn posting#b you are so smart you are always making my brain go brrr but like i don't know where it goes lmao so sorry if this is nonsense#ALSO GENERALLY. DON'T @ ME I KNOW THIS AU IS GETTING NUTS#but realistically im never gonna write it so it's just gonna get weird additions that spiral from now on!
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Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 22)
Part 23
Tw: Monty being a creepy lil shit, mans can't take no for an answer, short chaprer
Tell me what y'all think of the series so far i loce reading the comments and anon asks plpplsplps thanks
"(name)-" Yves's eyes were blank when you hung up. He slowly puts his phone down on his desk. He starts disassembling it, pulling the battery out and carelessly tossing it to the side of his laptop. You're not going to call him again.
He drummed his perfectly manicured fingers onto the table. Yves sighed heavily as he massaged his forehead. He extended his hand to grab a luxury bottle out from a metal pail of frosty ice.
He uncorked it and poured his champagne flute full of alcohol. It was filled to the brim, but Yves is skilled enough to pick it up without spilling a drop.
He walked up to the massive, crystal-clear window that allowed him to see the skyline and the city from a bird's eye view. The sky is dark but devoid of clouds. It's picturesque, but its beauty means nothing to Yves now. You aren't here to appreciate it with him and neither will you appreciate it from the pictures he sent.
He stared past his reflection as he sipped on his drink.
In his vast, lavish hotel room, he is the only occupant within it. Yves doesn't see the need to switch all the lights on. Just enough to see, but it made his room rather dim and ominous.
He continued staring out into the distance wordlessly and unblinkingly as he drank from the special glassware.
Silence envelopes him like the deep ocean. He wished that it also engulfed his mind. But alas, a man can only pray to receive such mercy.
__
The three of you laughed at a joke Evangeline said. She seems to be quite the comedian, her brain spins fast to think of witty sayings and comparisons.
The rain somehow worsened since, stuck in traffic and with nothing to do, you, Evangeline and her father resorted to singing along to songs, albeit off key with cracking voices.
Perhaps Mr. Jones was having a bit too much fun. So much so that he didn't pay attention to the road ahead of him.
You and Evangeline were forcefully jerked forward upon impact of the front to the bumper of someone's car.
Mr. Jones gloved hands were gripping tightly on the steering wheel and his hat is not on his greying head.
He turned to check on his daughter and his client.
"Is everyone okay?" He asked. Evangeline nodded and you did so too. You felt a bit sore where the seatbelt wrapped around your body, but otherwise, you're unharmed.
"Oh no... I hit someone..." Whined Mr. Jones. "I hope they're alright." His voice has much more guilt than fear or annoyance. He quickly pressed the emergency button with the triangles to signal the surrounding cars to move around him.
Among the downpour, you heard a car door slam shut. Followed by incessant knocking on the window at the driver's seat.
Mr. Jones gulped as he rolled down his window.
"Hey, what the fuck!? You just hit me!
"I am so sorry, Sir--"
"It'll cost me an arm and a leg to repair it, my paycheck isn't going to be ready until next week! I can't drive around without my bumper- look! The entire thing is gone!" The stranger with a sickeningly familiar voice but unfamiliar accent ranted at the older male.
"I-I'll give you my details. My deepest apologies sir, I will cover all the damage incurred. I am so sorry for this." Stammered Mr. Jones. He rushed to pull out a pen and a notepad.
"Yeah, you better! Today cannot get any worse." He grumbled to himself. He's standing under the rain, getting more and more drenched by the minute.
The man stuck his head into the car to avoid the pouring rain. But immediately snapped his neck to the back seat.
You and Evangeline had blood drained out of your faces. Montgomery's eyes lit up so bright that you thought he was actually illuminating the car.
"Hi Darlin'! Fancy meetin' you here!" His southern accent returned. You gave him an awkward wave.
"And yer friend too! Hello! Thanks for givin' my sweetheart their lunch." You looked to your friend, she has the most natural and confident smile on her face.
"Glad I could help, Sir."
"What are ya doin' in a fancy car like this?" Montgomery turned to you. "And where are y'all goin'?"
You struggled to answer. You don't know what to do.
It's times like these you wish Yves is here.
"We are going to my house for a little playdate." Evangeline answered for you.
You let out a discrete sigh of relief. But then you considered the possibility of him tailing you three. Your muscles started to tense up again.
"Well, ain't that fun. I'm goin' to the mechanic to get my car fixed 'cause of him!" Montgomery replied with a snark. Mr. Jones apologized once again as he handed Montgomery a piece of paper with his details on it.
"I'm sorry, Sir Montgomery. It was our fault, we were distracting dad and caused him to hit you." You appreciate that she is keeping his attention off you.
"Your daddy, eh?" He looked around the well-kept interior of the car. "Must be nice to be this rich." He narrowed his eyes at her.
"I wouldn't say we are rich. We definitely are comfortable though. I'm grateful to have such privileges and stabilities!" She beamed, you don't know if she's ignoring Montgomery's obvious spite towards her financial status or she's oblivious to it.
Montgomery visibly rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. "(Name), baby!" He addressed you in a sing-song voice.
"Why haven't ya' called? And, I missed ya' to death. Where were ya'? I hope you ain't skippin' school." You stammered and stuttered, you squirm under discomfort. You don't want to be around him any longer.
"Sir Montgomery, I suggest heading to the mechanic soon if you want to make it before it closes." Mr. Jones scribbled on something. "Here. Please accept this." He handed Montgomery a cheque. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Thank you." He stored the cheque somewhere that it wouldn't get too wet.
"As for ya, my sweetheart. What time will ya' be going home? I'll give ya' a lift back." He now stared at you, not caring that droplets of rain dripped down from his eyelashes and into the car.
Evangeline hooked her arms around yours. "They will be staying over. Isn't that right, (name)?"
His facial expression darkened. Montgomery did not like how she was touchy with his partner.
You meekly agreed.
"Well damn. Gimme your number then, sweetheart, I'll call ya."
Since you have two witnesses and you are in a car, you straight up told him no. You said that you're not comfortable with him contacting you and you never agreed to be in a relationship with him.
You thought that would be enough to either send him to a fit of rage or quit.
But instead, he rolled his eyes and huffed. Pretending that this is just a trivial matter.
"Can you cut the hard-to-get act just this once? It's rainin' cats and dogs out here, I wouldn't chase you any less if ya' handed me your phone number. In fact, I'd pursue ya even more!"
Horrified, you looked to Evangeline.
"Sir. (Name) is serious. They're not comfortable with you, they're not in a relationship with you. Please stop, you're being a creep!" She defended you.
"Shut yer' trap! You don't know squat about our love!"
"Don't speak to my daughter like that!" Mr. Jones finally came to her aid.
"What the- You should smack some sense into her! Talking to people like that--"
You interrupted the argument telling him that you are not giving him your phone number or any other information about yourself.
He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation and gave up for the time being.
"Fine. You ain't wanna give it to me? I'll find out my damn self, I'll prove how devoted I am to ya'." He grinned and winked at you. Which made you want to vomit.
Evangeline is baffled how Montgomery isn't taking anything except his car bumper seriously. He's barely angry that you humiliatingly rejected him in front of two people, but instead sees it as a couple's game. Just mildly annoyed that you're making him work for your basic information, but otherwise determined and playful about it.
"Mark my words, I will win this challenge and take my prize!" He declared to you. "Have fun at your tea party with goldilocks over there. I'll see you tomorrow, honey."
Montgomery waved and then returned back to his car. The brake lights lit up before he sped off to the nearest mechanic.
You began hyperventilating, which led Mr. Jones to hand you a brown paper bag. Evangeline tried to console you by putting your hair and squeezing your hand.
Why do these things always happen to you?
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere concept#tw yandere#yandere x you#yandere oc x reader#oc yves#male yandere oc x reader#oc Montgomery#oc Evangeline
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