#but yeah. just like....... know that this is an occupational hazard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allysunny · 4 months

Note

Hello! First of all, congrats for your 200 followers ❤️✨. Great job!

Second? I wanna request

8+ 19 in patching up wounds prompt with Nanami ❤️🤭

"Don't go to work today" + "I've got you" + Patching up wounds x Nanami Kento

Words: 3.4k words

Warnings: Some angst, established relationships, mentions of wounds, bruises and stitches, very soft Nanami. If I missed anything, let me know!

A/N: Aaaaaa thank you so much Tarja! It makes me super happy that you decided to request, you know I'm a huuuge fan of your stuff!

This was an entry for my 200 Follower Event, which is still ongoing, so you can request something, if you'd like!

I wrote this in practically one sitting because it was hurting my heart. I knew exactly what to do when I saw the prompts you picked (and I think your choice was quite deliberate as well hahaha!) and I wanted to deliver the best thing ever. It's a bit short, but I just knew if I were to extend myself, we'd end up with a whole novel and I'd get carried away.

Without much further ado, I hope you all enjoy this! I had a blast writing it - I want to hug this man and never let him go! <3

Nanami’s tired sigh signalled his arrival home.

Instinctively, you got up from your spot on the couch and made your way towards him. And the vision before you shocked you to hell and back.

There’s blood all over his clothes; his once white shirt was now tainted a dozen crimson shades, and he was holding onto his stomach as he walked.

You looked at him, at his calm and collected demeanour, at the way his lips pressed into a tight line and his eyes took you in. A sigh of relief left his lips and he all but collapsed on top of you, burying his face on your hair.

“Hey – hey, careful now,” you mumbled, holding onto him tightly but still making sure he wouldn’t fall. “You’re – you’re injured. Kento, what happened?” you asked, looking up and cupping his jaw, looking for any injuries in his face. Thankfully, you find none.

“Occupational hazards,” he muttered against your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo. It relaxed him. You relaxed him, kept him grounded and sane. As long as he got to come back home to you, he’d be fine – he was sure of it.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes. You need to be taken care of.” You dragged him upstairs, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, and preparing a nice bath for him. While he takes off his clothes (assuring you that he wasn’t a baby and that he could get undressed by himself), you go fetch your first aid kid, far too used to the job of patching him up after long, hard missions.

He got inside the bathtub, warm water relieving his sore muscles instantly. He hissed softly when the water reached his stomach, but he said nothing and just sat down, leaning back against the marble tiles, and closing his eyes. He wasn’t going to complain, not when he knew you were about to probably do the very same thing and reprimand him. He knew you loved him. You cared about him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, sitting by his side, and gently beginning to wash him.

“It was nothing,” he replied, eyes still closed.

“Yeah,” you scoffed in response, “Because a gash in your stomach is nothing. Why didn’t you ask Shoko to heal you up? I’m not a trained doctor, Kento.”

“It was late. Didn’t want to be out longer than necessary and possibly worry you even more about my location.” He opened his eyes, and you stared into those lovely amber pools that had never once failed to guide you. “Besides, I trust you to do it. You’ve patched me up before. Nothing you can’t do again. And I’ll heal up in no time.”

You sighed.

On one hand, it was sweet of him. Kento knew how much you worried about him, knew the restless nights you spent waiting for him to say something, text, call, just tell you that he was doing fine. It was considerate of him to get home right away.

On the other hand, it was so downright stupid. How could a man as smart as your husband think it was okay to switch the powers of a reverse curse user for your amateurish medical skills? Shoko had years of practice and experience. Your experience was based solely on fixing him up. They weren’t good, and he shouldn’t be relying on them as often as he did.

“I know that look,” he says softly, lifting his hand to caress your cheek. You could see the way he winced and tried to play it off as the water being too warm. Your husband never wanted to look weak in front of you. “I trust you. You’ve healed me up well in the past. This is nothing compared to what you’ve done before.”

You sighed and shook your head, continuing your process.

You cleaned the area around the wound, and once he was all clean, you helped him dry himself off with a towel. After that, you disinfected the wound and applied some healing ointments you knew had done the trick in the past. You covered his stomach with some bandage and gave it a soft kiss after you were done. It was sort of your magical touch – after the first time, Kento swore it was that simple thing that had managed to get him to heal up quickly and begs you to do it every time.

“There,” you said, caressing his jaw. “All done. But I’m not stitching you – last time I did it, it got all infected, and I’m not risking your health. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Shoko, and she’ll take care of this. Alright?”

“Yes Doctor Nanami,” Kento smiled dutifully and leaned over to connect his lips to yours. You could still feel some of the coppery taste of blood on his tongue, and tried to push those thoughts away as you kissed him back.

“And now, off to sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You helped him up and brought him to your bedroom, where he sat down on your bed with a small grunt. You shot him a worried expression, but he just raised his hands as to assure you everything was alright. With your help, he laid down completely, and you were quick to slot yourself in between his arms. He brought you close and kissed your temple.

“I love you. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” you said, yawning right after.

Nanami smiled and kissed your temple once again, muttering sweet words of adoration until you both fell asleep.

The next day, Kento stayed home.

The only time he left, was to go to Jujutsu High, to get checked on by Shoko. You went with him, not wanting him out of your sight – not when he was injured, and the world of curses never slept.

“Everything should be fine now, but you still have to disinfect the wound some more every time you shower,” she said, fetching for the pack of cigarettes on her pocket and lighting one up and turning to you. “You did a pretty good job patching him up. Why the lack of stiches?”

“I didn’t want them to get infected like last time. I figured he’d be better off like this.”

“You still did a good job.” She puffed out some smoke and shrugged. “You’d do a fine job here with me. How about you consider it? I could use an extra set of hands and – “

“With all due respect, Ieiri, I don’t want to get my wife involved in this world.” Nanami cut her off, placing a protective arm around your waist. “It’s bad enough she has to tend to me sometimes, I won’t let her see the gruesome sights I know you have to deal with on a daily basis.”

Shoko shrugged.

“My offer still stands.”

You both thanked her and made your way home, where Nanami offered to cook up your favourite dish as an apology for getting hurt last night. You sat by your kitchen table, happily watching him as he cut and mixed and did a wonderful job at recreating the food you loved so much.

While you two waited, he took you in his arms and spun you gently around the kitchen, swaying to the rhythm of jazz playing in the radio. He hummed in your ear and kissed you gently. It was soft and slow, and the day was yours to enjoy, so you let yourself melt into his touch. Your husband was safe and sound and nothing could reach you two.

It was good. It was great.

In fact, it felt far too good to be true.

And you feared something was coming up to disrupt your peace.

“I was thinking of staying in tonight,” you said against his chest, the soft beating of his heart almost enough to lull you to sleep. Staying in. Yes. Keeping him home. Safe and sound with you.

“And why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, it’s Halloween. I thought we could go out and celebrate it.”

“We don’t have costumes.” Nanami deadpanned.

“I’m sure we’d find something. But now I just want to stay in with you. Maybe order some takeout, watch a scary movie. What do you think?”

Nanami hummed and bent down to kiss you softly once again, swallowing the soft moan you rewarded him with.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

You spent the rest of the day lazing around, curled up on the couch, watching movies or catching up with old shows that had been long forgotten. At some point, you were sure your husband was taking a nap, and you could only smile, glad he was getting some rest.

“I’m going to shower,” you yawned, looking out of the window. Afternoon was turning into night, and you wanted to clean up the laziness off your body.

“I’ll join you.”

“Ha! No, mister, you’re not going anywhere. No funny business until you’re all healed.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t I shower with my wife anymore?” he faked a surprised expression, and you smiled, glad to see your husband allowed himself to be more laidback at home.

“You can, but you would have to keep your hands to yourself, and I know that’s not possible.”

“You offend me, darling. I am familiar with discipline.”

“The hell you are,” you chuckled, standing up and offering him your hand. “But come on. I need to disinfect your wound again.”

He did as you asked, and you found yourselves in the bathroom once again. You were sitting by his side as usual and were carefully tending to his wound when his phone rang.

“Just leave it – that’s Gojo’s ringtone.” He muttered with a sigh – a sigh that conveyed just how frustrated he was with his coworker.

You nodded and went back to working on his wound but were interrupted by the loud noise of his phone once again. You gave your husband a sympathetic look and he sighed once again, nodding. Standing up, you went to retrieve his phone, only to pick the call up while you returned to the bathroom.

“Hello?”

“[Y/N]? Is Nanami in there?” Gojo asked, urgency clear in his voice.

“Wow, hello to you too, Satoru. What do you want Kento for?”

“Just – please, give the phone to him.”

“Is everything okay?” Now you were getting worried. Gojo was never serious, and he sounded far too worried right now.

“Just put him on the phone!”

So, you did. You couldn’t make out just what the conversation was about. Just that Gojo was extremely worried, and he probably wanted Nanami’s help.

“Hm.” You heard your husband mutter. “I see. Shibuya. Mhm. Who else? Kusakabe? Hm.”

You tried to put the pieces together yourself.

There was something happening in Shibuya, and Gojo needed your husband’s help. Other people were going too, and by the list of names Nanami repeated, you could tell it was probably serious – a lot of people were going.

“I’ll be there in 10.” Having said this, he hung up.

“So?” you asked, looking at him.

“Something is happening in Shibuya Station. Gojo needs my help leading a team of sorcerers.”

Your stomach fell.

Of course. It was far too good to be true. The little peace you’d crafted for yourself and Nanami – it wasn’t real. And something did come to disturb it.

Grabbing the hydrogen peroxide and a cotton ball next to you, you dabbled it softly all over the wound, trying your best not to apply too much pressure. This whole thing gave you the creeps. You couldn’t tell what it was – wife’s intuition, a 5th sense. All you knew was that you did not your husband to leave the house.

You didn’t want your peace disrupted. You could feel something was about to happen.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t go, Kento.” You repeated, this time more firmly. “Don’t go to work please, just today” After you were done disinfecting the wound, he stood up and quickly grabbed his clothes. You knew the look in his eyes, the determined look that told you he was entering work mode, he was entering overtime.

He sighed and started walking towards the bedroom, picking the first suit he saw on his closet – the beige one, with the dark blue shirt. You liked that suit. It wasn’t very conventional, he could’ve picked a far more “normal” colour to wear like dark blue or even black – but the tan colour matched nicely with his brown eyes, and the dark blue of his shirt contrasted well with his fair skin.

“Gojo sounded worried. I think this is serious. I’ll be back in no time, you’ll see,” he told you, putting his shirt on and grabbing the holster his blunt sword.

“Please – Kento, you’re injured.” You told him, walking to his side. “You can’t go like this!”

“Shoko healed me up, didn’t she? And so did you. I’ll be fine, I promise.” His voice was as reassuring as always, but all you felt in your stomach was a pit that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Not tonight. I – I have a bad feeling about this, I really do,” you held onto his hand, and forced him to look at you, to see the fear and worry in your eyes. He did, and stopped in his tracks, cupping your face with both his hands.

“I promise you; I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured.

“You don’t get it – I have a terrible feeling about this mission. Please stay home,” tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you found it hard to speak, anxiety clogging in your throat and making it burn. “Just for tonight. You can’t go tonight.”

“Honey, they need me. They need my help – what if someone is in danger?”

“Surely they can get someone other than you!” you exclaimed, tears now rolling down your cheeks. It broke his heart to see you like this, crying before him. Nanami brushed your tears away and shook his head.

“They can’t. Gojo knows how much I hate overtime. I can tell he’s being serious right now.”

“They have other sorcerers! Gojo can send in other sorcerers! It can’t always be you! Shit – Please! Kento, don’t go tonight. I’m begging you, stay home.”

Nanami looked at you, furrowing his brows ever so slightly. He knew you. Better than he knew himself, he was sure. He knew you cared about him deeply, he knew you worried like crazy. But you’d never stopped him from going on missions. Sure, you’d try to beg for just five more minutes in bed with him, wanting to cherish every second you got to hold him in your arms, and you checked up on him several times a day just to make sure he was doing fine.

But you never stopped him from doing what he had to do.

You understood how much Jujutsu Sorcery meant to him. You understood why he did what he did, and never once got in his way. You knew it was his calling, and you couldn’t stop him. After all, you loved him. And no matter how much you wanted to protect him; you would always let him do what he felt like he had to.

Today was different.

“And you want me to stay home because you… you have a feeling?” he repeated your words back, shaking his head ever so slightly. “[Y/N], you know I can’t. A feeling is not enough. They need my help.”

“They can get someone else’s!” You were crying now. Actually crying and holding onto his hands as if they were your lifeline. To you, they were. “I, I can’t explain it Kento. I just know something terrible is about to happen. And you’re injured, you haven’t healed completely yet, I… I can’t lose you Kento! I can’t – I’m not ready to say goodbye to you. I don’t think I ever will!”

You embraced him tightly, burying your face on his chest and clutching his blue shirt in your fists as you sobbed.

“I just know… I know… I can feel it… I know something awful is going to happen… Please don’t leave me – don’t leave tonight… I love you Kento, I – I can’t lose you…”

Nanami hugged you back as you sobbed, running a gentle hand through your hand in an attempt to comfort you. He pondered his choices.

Gojo sounded desperate. Something big had clearly happened and he was needed. No other sorcerer could rival his technique alone – there was a good reason, after all, he was a Grade 1 Sorcerer. He could go out and help. They probably needed his help more than anything else. And his guidance.

But you… You just looked so frightened, so anxious. Scared that some force more powerful than him would take his soul, his life. He titled your head up with his other hand and took you all in. Your eyes were red from all the crying, your nose was runny, and your lips were puffy and open as you mumbled a string of pleas, all with the same intent. Don’t leave tonight.

He’d never seen you like this.

And he was positive he never wanted to do so ever again.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Your eyes were wide as saucers and your breath quickened.

“Really?”

Nanami hummed in response and kissed you sweetly. You, however, kissed him with all you were feeling. The anxiety and fear of losing him, the desperation to keep him by your side, the undying love you had for him. You poured all these emotions into your kiss, hoping they’d speak louder than the words you couldn’t come up with. You then looked at him and teared up again, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Bread, fireplace, and fresh new books. He smelled like home.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, still running his hand through your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You stood like that for a while, in his arms while he whispered soothing words in your ear.

After a while, he picked you up and took you to the living room, sitting on the couch and placing you on his lap. You snuggled into him, refusing to let him go. Your hands were all over him, and you tried to get closer to him, as if that were even possible. You were so tangled up; it was hard to tell where he ended, and you began.

Nanami silently took the TV remote and picked a movie you had mentioned wanting to watch for Halloween night. He held you close, covering both of your bodies with a blanket, his hand firmly on your thigh to remind you that he was here.

Gojo needed his help. That was true. And however dramatic he may be, he could be serious when he wanted, and forego his cocky, careless demeanour.

But you needed him. And Nanami had spent far too many nights out in missions, coming home battered black and blue, covered in blood and big purple bruises, worrying you to death. He’d seen how you looked at him earlier – like you truly believed he would be taken away from you. And it broke his heart.

Gojo could manage on his own. He’d done it before. Nanami had sacrificed far too many hours for Jujutsu Sorcery. Surely, he’d done enough to warrant a night off, to spend with the love of his life. Right?

“Thank you,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, trying not to cry again.

“I love you. And I don’t want to worry you.” Was his ushered reply as he placed soft kisses on the side of your head. He felt you smile into his skin, and the gesture was enough to make him melt in your embrace.

Yeah.

He’d surely done enough to earn a night with you.

Gojo could manage.

For now, all he wanted was to curl up with his wife on the couch, and comfort her until she no longer cried, watch a movie or two, chuckle when she got scared and hid in his chest.

Yeah.

He’d earned it.

Because nothing could ever matter more than you.

A/N: And that's it!!! I hope I managed to give all Nanami fans some solance - in my head, this is how it went down. Nanami stayed home with us, and later he retired and we moved to Malaysia. All is well.

I hope you all enjoyed it! I certainly did - I love writing for Nanami. He's such an interesting character!

Have a wonderful day (and weekend) ahead, everyone! <3

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yuecrown · 7 months

Text

I LOVE YOU — ron kamonohashi

pairings: ron kamonohashi x gn!reader. warnings: fluff. established relationship. 0.9k wc. notes: this is my first fic for rkdd but i had to write for ron bc hello ?! he's such a menace (affectionate) <3

when you wake up, the first thought on your mind is that you haven’t slept this well in ages. usually you’re a light sleeper, roused from sleep by even the smallest disturbances.

this morning however, your eyes don’t open until past 10 am— extremely late by your standards. maybe it’s because this is your first time sleeping over at your boyfriend ron’s place. it’s also the first time in a long while that you’ve felt so loved, so safe.

his bed is as comfy as you’d expect it to be, covered with soft blankets, tons of pillows and platypus plushies. it’s huge too, easily big enough to fit both ron and you— but he’s not here.

you blink sleepily and sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes. the space beside you is empty, but the sheets are messy, meaning that ron did sleep here, at least for a while.

you frown. did he find sharing his bed with another person uncomfortable? or did he just have to get up early because toto brought him a case to solve?

you’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of something shattering. it seems to be coming from the kitchen. you throw the covers back, about to go find the source of the sound, when ron appears in the doorway.

he looks messier than usual, and it’s cute. his long dark hair is damp, and obscuring his eyes, slightly more tousled than what you’re used to. a towel is slung around his shoulders, and he’s already dressed in his usual t-shirt, jacket and jeans.

“good morning, y/n.” his voice is warm and tinged with excitement as he beams proudly and holds out a tray. “i made you breakfast!”

“good morning,” you mumble back sleepily, stifling a yawn. “i heard something break, are you okay?”

he waves a hand dismissively. “it was just a plate. an occupational hazard.”

“of being a detective?”

“of being a prodigal chef,” he corrects, gesturing towards the tray.

there’s a cute mug with a cat face on it, filled with coffee, alongside a plate stacked with fluffy-looking pancakes.

you sip at the coffee, and almost spit it right out when you taste just how much brown sugar he’s put in it.

“i didn’t know how you took your coffee,” ron says apologetically.

you gingerly sip at the drink again and grimace. “so you decided to add ungodly amounts of brown sugar syrup to it?”

ron blinks. “you don’t like it?”

his head is tilted to one side and he’s watching you keenly, waiting for an answer. the embarrassing truth is that you’d do anything to see him smile, so you steel your nerves and say, “no, um, it’s great! really.”

you can’t tell if he buys the lie or not, but he seems happy enough either way. “good.”

he hugs you from behind, arms wrapping around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his warm breath tickles your neck. “you should sleep over more often.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. i… i liked it. you’re cute when you’re asleep.”

the unexpected comment has you flustered, but ron seems oblivious as he stabs a pancake with a fork and feeds it to you.

you take a bite and prepare yourself for the brown sugar taste to flood your senses, but instead it’s actually balanced out by the other ingredients. “wait, ron— this is really good!”

“i knew it.” his tone is smug as he eats the rest of the pancake you just took a bite out of. “and now we’ve shared an indirect kiss.”

you try not to laugh at how proud of himself he looks. “we can share a real one too if you want.”

the tips of his ears grown pink. he murmurs, “okay,” and leans in to kiss you, eyes closed.

he tugs you closer onto his lap, one hand resting against your back, keeping you steady. despite his inexperience, he’s a good kisser. it makes sense, you think to yourself— he’s an incredibly quick learner, and even more so when it’s something he enjoys— and the eagerness with which he presses his warm lips to yours proves that he definitely enjoys kissing you.

when you finally pull away, he grins. “if you stay over more often, we can do more of this.”

“you don’t have to try and convince me,” you reply. “i’d love to spend more nights with you.”

“you would?”

“of course, i love you.” the words slip out easier than you’d thought. truth be told, you hadn’t even meant to say them, but now that you had, you weren’t going to take them back.

there’s silence for a few seconds. ron’s eyes bore into you, and both of you hold your breath. then he drapes himself over you like a koala, clutching you tightly, and says, “i love you too.”

you try and fail to hide your giddy smile, burying your face into his neck. “oh.”

he pulls himself off you and observes your flustered expression, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “i’d assumed it was a given, but you seem to like it when i say the words out loud. hmm. cute. i love you, y/n.”

you hit him on the arm and huff, “you’re insufferable.”

“but you love me, right?”

you stick your tongue out at him. “actually, i love your cat more, so there.”

he sulkily replies, “well, i love brown sugar more, so there.”

“oh, okay.” you get up, pretending to leave. ron grabs your wrist and tugs you back into his embrace, murmuring, “i was kidding.”

you smile and take his hand. “i know.”

he links his fingers with yours tightly and says, “i’ll always love you most.”

#ron kamonohashi x reader #ron kamonohashi x gn reader #rkdd x reader #ron kamonohashi #rkdd #deranged detective #kamonohashi ron no kindan suiri #kamonohashi ron x reader #rom kamonohashi's forbidden deductions

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javarium · 1 year

Text

Occupational Hazard | Pedro Pascal.

Note(s): Comedian! Reader, Large but Legal Age Gap (MC is 30+), Female Reader, mentions of assault and injury, Pedro and MC are engaged 💍 (also, more often than not, when you ask for no salt on the fries at a fast food place (where I’m at anyway), the fries are always hot and fresh), wrote this in a span of, like, two days so it’s not proofread! enjoy!

Summary: Being a successful comedian, you’ve made all sorts of jokes, especially ones at your own expense. But not everyone has the same sense of humor, and Pedro finds out how dangerous some of these people who find your jokes “offensive” are.

****

Pedro hadn’t expected your text message so late. He had just gotten home an hour prior, tired and exhausted. But after his shower, he heard the ding of the two minute reminder on his phone. He plucks his phone from the charge and reads: Would you be available right now? To pick me up? Had an incident tonight.

He’s dressed and out the door not even five minutes later, wet hair slicked back away from his face so his glasses wouldn’t get wet.

It unfortunately takes him thirty minutes to get to the comedy club where you were scheduled to have an event, much much longer than he wanted. But when he arrives, he’s ushered in by the guards that already know him and the fact you and him are in a relationship.

A female guard in plain clothes is waiting for him the moment he steps through the doors, more than likely the one who informed the ones outside you had sent for him and to let Pedro through.

A couple of twists and turns down some hallways and he’s at the stage where you do your work.

He grimaces to himself, and his heart fills with worry and concern.

Not even five seconds upon entering the room did your eyes lock onto his form, his presence something you’ve always noticed immediately regardless of his quiet he was — always seemed to know when he walked into a room, your soul practically locked onto his own.

When the doctor pulls away, finishing her job, Pedro sees the damage done: a full black eye that would be shut for several days and a split lip, with a nose almost broken with a dot of dried blood at your nostril. You’d probably have to go to the hospital in a day or two to have that checked out to make sure it healed properly.

Everyone pulls away from you like opposing magnets, leaving the room to give you both some privacy. He’s glad. He also doesn’t want them to see him pissed off, because he was almost fucking livid.

He pulls a chair from where the crowd sits and places it in front of you. You give him a smile through the pain, and he wants to kiss you so bad but your lip is split damn it—

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey yourself,” he whispers back, trying to smile back and not be angry. One hand is laced between the fingers of your left hand that has that pretty diamond engagement ring on it, his other cupping your cheek on the side that doesn’t have a black eye and rubbing your skin fondly. “What happened, baby?”

You shrugged. “Not everyone has the same kind of humor.”

Pedro raises his brows. “Meaning?”

You inhale heavily, releasing an equally heavy exhale.

“A guy got pissed at a deadbeat dad joke I made,” you said. “I guess he fit the criteria, knew it, and got pissed. Felt called out, I guess.”

His eyes go wide with shock. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You run your thumb over the skin of his hand and continue, “I think I’m gonna cancel my next three shows.”

Pedro’s against it the second the words leave your mouth. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am.” You give him a face, one he recognizes easily: you’re not going to budge, and there’s no point in him arguing. “I think he universe might be telling me to take a break.”

He nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, you’ve been going as hard as me lately. I’m starting to think this line of work is more dangerous than what I do.”

You slap his shoulder in a light and childish manner. “Oh, shut up. You do a lot more taxing work than I do.”

“But you’ve done a lot more shows than you have in the last, what, year?” Pedro argues this time. “That’s a fucking lot. Not even I’m sure I could handle that much moving around the states so fast.”

You jab back, “That’s why I pack lightly, baby.”

He laughs. “Har har. Got me there…” Pedro leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. “I love you, mi princesa.”

You giggle, warmth flooding to your cheeks at Pedro’s affection and soft declaration of love for you.

You almost get to say it back, but he grins cheekily because he already knows and proceeds to ask, “Want some McDonald’s?”

You stand to your feet immediately. “I want two twenty piece McNuggers, two fries without salt, and a big-ass Sprite.”

“You eat too damn much.” Pedro snorts, smiling ear-to-ear. “And you and your no-salt on the fries, I swear.”

“It’s better that way!” you reply, mock offended. “And you get them fresh, too! That salt isn’t any good for high blood pressure anyway.”

“Whatever you say,” he remarks. “So, McDonald’s in the car, go home, shower, and cuddle with a movie on until we fall asleep?”

You love him — absolutely and positively love him. This man knows how to make your bad days better like the back of his hand.

“Sounds perfect.”

You’re so glad to have him. You’re the luckiest woman in the world, no doubt, to call such a perfect man yours.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #real person fiction #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal fluff #pedro rpf x reader #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller tlou #female reader

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wehaveimagineshere · 5 months

Text

Ghost w/ civilian!reader

Reader is afab tho not mentioned here

Part of the Little Bunny series

As you walk up to the locked doors to let yourself into the store to begin opening up for the day, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed that the mysterious masked man didn’t show up yesterday.

Realistically, you know that most people don’t come to a grocery store two days in a row. Most only come once a week. But you couldn’t help but hope he would show up again.

You sigh as you count the money in the register, making sure that everything is accounted for before starting the day.

“You’re not going to be on register today,” your supervisor walks up to you as she replaces the empty receipt cartridge.

“Can you stock shelves instead, please?” You nod your head as you head to the back of the store, grabbing a rack of items needing to be put away.

Ghost is one of the first people to enter the store. He wants to see you again, though he’s not quite sure the exact reason why. He doesn’t care for strangers. He avoids them as best he can unless it’s for his job. But there’s just something about your bright demeanor and the twinkle in your eye that seems to be drawing him in.

As soon as he enters the door he immediately looks towards the register, disappointment filling his veins when he sees another lady there. His shoulders slump a bit and turns his head back, heading to a random aisle.

He happens to see you in the corner of his eye. Backtracking a few steps to really make sure it’s you.

You’re crouched down, straightening out products and pushing them to the front to make them look neat. You haven’t noticed him yet, zoned into what you’re doing. He walks up to you silently.

You stand up, knees and ankles popping, and dust your hands onto your pants. Your turn around and nearly jump out of your skin.

“Oh Jesus!” Your hand immediately jumping to cover your heart. You look up and see it’s the masked man from the other day.

“Sorry,” you hear him chuckle. It’s quiet, like he didn’t even know he did it. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

You take a deep breath and smile up at him. “It’s alright. You sure are quiet on your feet aren’t you.”

He puts his hand up to scratch the back of his head, feeling a little bashful. His tattoos peaking out of his sleeve again. You can’t help yourself but stare at them. “Uh, yeah. Occupational hazard.”

You focus back on his face, still covered by a skull mask. Why does he wear it? You can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Quick Simon, think of an excuse. He didn’t this far ahead. He’s quiet for a moment and you tilt your head at him.

“I was wondering where your… salt was at.” Are you an idiot, what kind of fucking question is that. He can feel heat rise to his cheeks and he’s grateful for the mask. He feels so stupid.

You giggle and it sounds like music to his ears. He’s mesmerized by the sound of it. “It’s on aisle 3. I can show you if you’d like.” You turn your body before he responds.

“Yes, thank you.” He follows you like lost puppy. He knows exactly where the salt is at. He knows what shelf and what brand he likes to use. But he follows you nonetheless.

He asks you how long you’ve been working here, not entirely surprised to find out you started as soon as he left for deployment. If you were here before, he definitely would’ve noticed you sooner. Tried to get to know you sooner.

“Here’s the salt. I have to head back now but if you need help with anything else please let me know,” you turn around and almost jump again. He was close to you. So close you could smell the cologne he had on; it smelled intoxicating.

He thanks you, and as soon as you start to walk away he tells you to wait. You turn and look at him, tilting your head again in a way he can tell is going to be his favorite thing.

He feels his heart pick up at the question he wants to ask you. Just ask Simon. It’s a normal fuckin question. He swallows, his saliva feels thick.

“What’s your name?” You smile at him. You don’t know what you were expecting but it wasn’t that. You show him your badge and happily tell him your name.

He whispers it under his breath and smiles to himself as you walk away. He quickly grabs the salt and walks towards the register. He realizes he never told you his. But he’ll save that so he can see you again soon.

#admin frost #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #mw ghost #ghost x reader #ghost cod #little bunny series

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writing-blog-iguess · 7 months

Note

Omg i saw your post that your doing Ethan x reader or Aaron hotchner x reader! What if it’s combined? Reader (or oc whichever you prefer) is Ethan’s sister who got out of the IMF and now works for the bau and is dating hotch. One day Ethan shows up (as the dramatic person he is) and tells her he needs her help or both of them are gonna die. Idk something angsty and dramatic

Okay, I um kind of changed it a bit. I saw the words angsty and dramatic and an idea came to mind and I just rolled with it. I hope you don't mind. Also, very sorry for how long this took me, but I hope you like it.

Buckle up boys, it's a long one

---------

She left the IMF after a near death experience. Granted, that was an occupational hazard, and it wasn’t the first one she’s had. But something about this particular experience really rattled her.

Maybe it was disarming a nuclear bomb before it could go off, she wasn’t sure. She had thought her brother had the world ending missions, but she had her fair share of them too. Turned out it ran in the family.

After the debrief, she told Kittridge she was done. He tried to persuade her to become an instructor, even had Ethan try to convince her to stay with them. But the thought of teaching the next generation had her gut churning. So, she said no and left and hasn’t looked back since.

A few weeks after quitting, the director of the FBI tracked her down and offered her a job. Saying that her skill sets were perfect for the BAU. It started off rocky, as it usually does when starting a new job, and it didn’t help that the team had formed a family.

It was fine, they didn’t trust her much given that they knew next to nothing about her. Though there wasn’t a puzzle Garcia couldn’t solve, she seemed to be an exception. Whenever Garcia tried to find anything about her, nothing came up that pertained to her. Stating to the team that she was a ghost; she didn’t exist and what little she found was confidential.

Slowly, and one by one, she wormed her way into everyone’s hearts, and she stopped feeling like an outsider peering through the window.

She’s been with the BAU for five years, and dating the Unit Chief for three. It had been work cracking the hard shell of one Aaron Hotchner, but eventually she had. And along the way fell in love.

He doesn’t know much about her past before the FBI. Well, he knows more than the rest of the team, but not much. He knows she worked for the government, doing covert assignments. What, she never said and hoped to keep it that way. He knows she has a brother who still worked there, but has never met him.

She doesn’t know how long she can hide that part of her life, but she hopes to keep it away from her current life as far as possible. God knows, Aaron doesn’t need to be pushed into the fray of her past. But she’s a Hunt, and if there’s one thing, she knows that the past will come to collect when you least expect it.

---

“Do you think we’ll get the weekend off?” Emily asked offhandedly as the three of them waited for the elevator. She snorted and shook her head, bringing her coffee cup up and took a sip.

“Doubt it,” she said, “every time we talk about the weekend and what plans we have, we usually get called in.”

“Yeah. But what if we didn’t talk about our plans?” JJ asked. The elevator dinged and the three of them stepped in, laughing.

“Sure, then maybe we’ll get it off. But knowing our luck we still get…” she trailed off as she turned around to see a familiar face through the building doors. And it seemed like time had stopped as she stared at him. He didn’t smile or wave, he just stood there, staring at her as if they were in a staring contest like they had as children.

“Hunt?” Emily called, waving her hand in front of Y/N. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she asked, and she blinked and he was gone. Maybe she had.

“Uh, yeah. I just,” she started and shot her hand forward, stopping the elevator doors from closing. She needed to make sure it was just that, just a ghost. “I forgot something in my car,” she lied though they didn’t buy it. “I’ll meet you up there.” Stepping off, she made her way towards the door, ignoring their calls of worry.

Pushing the door open, she turned her head around and hoped to see Ethan. But he was nowhere to be seen, and she briefly entertained the thought that she was just seeing things. She has been thinking about Ethan a lot lately, it could be her mind playing tricks. But there was a small part of her that knew what she saw was real. That Ethan might be in D.C, and he came to see her.

Grumbling about how stupid brother were under her breath, she walked across the street and hoped that there was something there that told her Ethan was there.

Just as she walked past a payphone, it started ringing. She watched it for a moment, waiting to see what would happen. And when someone went to answer it, it stopped ringing. Okay weird. When the person shrugged and walked away, it started ringing again. It was too much of a coincidence of seeing Ethan and having the phone ring.

“Dammit Ethan. Why couldn’t you make an appointment or something?” she mumbled to herself as she went to pick up the phone. “Hello.”

“In an hour, meet me where the mummies rest,” was all he said before hanging up. She blinked, staring at the receiver in her hand. What?

“What?” she muttered in disbelief. Somehow not surprised with the message. She hung up and glanced at her watch. She wasn’t going into work today, that she was sure of. Sighing, she fished out her phone and dialed.

“Hotchner,” he answered after the third ring. She didn’t answer right away, still in thought of what exactly she was going to tell him. She must have been quiet for a bit too long. She heard rustling and imagined Aaron moving some papers around before checking to see if the call was still connected.

“Honey? Are you okay?” Aaron asked softly, as if he was afraid to spook her. It brought a smile to her face at how fast he can go from Work Hotch to Home Hotch. She sniffled and turned to look up at the building, eyes on the floor she thought his office was. “Sweetheart?”

“Sorry. I-I don’t think I’ll make it to work today,” she finally answered.

“You haven’t gotten sick, have you?” Aaron asked, and wrinkled his forehead in worry was clear in her mind. As if he was standing in front of her. “You were fine this morning.”

“No, not sick,” she confirmed. Scratching her cheek, she debated telling him the whole truth. She decided on half the truth then. “Do you remember my brother?” she waited for his hum of acknowledgement before continuing. “Well, he’s in town.” Okay, she wasn’t sure if he was or not, but it’s something he didn’t need to know.”

“Everything okay?” Aaron asked, she bit her lip, shrugging helplessly, forgetting he couldn’t see her.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen or talked to him in five years,” she sighed out, “it could be nothing but it could be-”

“Something,” Aaron finished the thought for her. And knowing her brother the way she does, it was something. But she wasn’t ready to tell him that, not yet at least. “Go. Take as much time as you need. I think you have saved up vacation days you still need to use.”

“Is this Aaron talking or Hotch?” she couldn’t help but tease. Aaron huffed out a laugh, bringing out a smile from her.

“A little bit of both I suppose,” he answered, “still, take a few days if it’s important. If it’s not, still take them and spend time with your brother. Family is important.” He means it, she knows. Especially after what he went through with Haley. And she takes his words to heart. “Tell me how it goes, okay?”

“I will, thanks Aaron,” she whispered, rubbing her nose. “But are you sure you can handle the workload without me?”

“We handled them before you, I’m sure we’ll manage,” he teased, lifting up her spirits a little. You heard a knock and some mumbling before Aaron came back on the phone. “I have to go; a new case just came up. Stay safe. I love you.”

“You stay safe too, and I love you too.” With that you hung up.

Where the mummies rest. Why’d he have to be so damn cryptic, she’ll never know. If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t know what he was talking about. But since it was her that picked up the phone, and with her love of puzzles and riddles, she knew the answer.

She had an hour to meet him, an hour to prepare for whatever storm Ethan brought with him. Instead of going home or to the car, she turned and started walking towards the Smithsonian. She had hoped the walk would help clear her mind.

But by the time she stood in front of the building, she was in a bundle of nerves. Which was ridiculous, Ethan’s her brother. A brother who you haven’t seen nor talked to since she left the agency.

Feeling a little silly, she shook her head and walked inside. She bypassed all the other exhibits and went straight to ancient Egypt. Once she walked into the room, she slowly made her way around it. Picking up a pamphlet, making it look like she was there for the exhibit and not waiting for someone.

Though she didn’t have to wait long before her older brother stood beside her. She paid him no mind, and kept her focus on the vase she was currently studying.

“You look good,” Ethan finally said after a few moments of silence. She hummed and stole a glance in his direction.

“Could say the same about you,” you shot back, eyes returning to the pamphlet in her hands. “How’d you even find me anyways. Not that I was hiding or anything,” she added as an afterthought.

“You’re my younger sister, of course I’m going to keep tabs on you,” he answered. Furrowing her eyebrows in thought. If that were true, he could have made contact sooner. Right?

“No, you had Benji track me down,” you countered and she didn’t miss the smile that came after. “He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked, looking around. When she couldn’t find the familiar blond, her next target was a security camera. Finding one, she narrowed her eyes as if he was there.

“He says hi, by the way,” Ethan said, finally turning to you.” And that they keep track of everyone who’s ever worked for them. Even after they leave.” Of course, they do. Why that surprised her, she had no idea.

Turning back to Ethan with a huff, her hands crumpled the pamphlet as her grip tightened around it. “Well tell Kittridge I’m not coming back. And getting you to ask me doesn’t change my answer. It’s not like we’ve talked recently,” she said quietly, hurt creeping into her voice.

“I know and I’m sorry,” he said, frowning. Shaking his head, he reached out and took her by the arm, guiding the two of them somewhere more private. “Now’s not the time to catch up. I’ve come to ask for help.”

“No,” she said, shaking off his hand. She turned around to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I said I was done and I mean it. Tell Kittridge to leave me alone.”

Frustration crossed his features and he took a deep breath before talking. “Kittridge doesn’t know I’m here, he didn’t send me. I’m the one who needs your help,” he said, “she’s back and she’s gunning for you.”

“I don’t-I don’t know who you're talking about Ethan,” she finally answered. Ethan groaned and she stepped back a little at the look he was giving her.

“One of your first missions was to stop a trafficking ring,” he reminded, hoping it’ll jog her memory. She hummed and let her eyes wander around the room as well as her mind.

As they do, her eyes settle on a person, and something not right clicks in her brain as she continues to stare. And it’s not the ‘it’s rude to stare’ her mom would tell her growing up. No, it’s something else that she can’t put a finger on.

The woman she’s staring at gives Y/N a familiar smile and wave when it clicks.

“No.”

“She’s coming for you and everything that you love.” She faintly heard Ethan say, but all her attention was on the woman across the room. She watched with mild horror as she wiggled a picture back and forth. She may be too far away to see the picture clearly, but she could faintly see the outline of the people in it and it made her heart drop to her stomach.

Pushing the pamphlet into Ethans chest and made her way towards the woman, ignoring her brother’s surprised grunt. The woman turned and made her way out of the room, dropping the picture as she went.

Y/N ignored the picture and kept walking, following the blond. “Sorry, excuse me, pardon me,” she went on as she gently pushed her way through the crowds. She quickened her pace as she kept going, ignoring everyone but the person she was following.

Once she entered the main lobby, she began to run until he pushed her way out the doors. Running down the steps, she looked around and cursed when she couldn’t find her.

“Y/N!” Ethan yelled just as her phone ran. Getting it out of her pocket, she answered.

“Hunt.”

“Long time no see,” the voice said, laughing. Y/n’s grip on her phone tightened at the sound of her voice. It may have been years since she put that person away, but she could never get rid of the voice from her nightmares.

“Whatever game you're playing Lily, it ends,” she hissed, turning around hoping she could find Lily.

“No game,” Lily said, voice suddenly serious, “you ruined my life, Y/N. It’s only fair I ruin yours.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know,” Lily answered, “I mean who gets to find the love of their life? I’m sure Aaron and I have lots to talk about.”

“You stay away from him. Your fight is with me, not him.”

“You brought him the day you met him,” she hissed. “Whatever happens to him will fall on your hands, not mine. See you soon, Y/N.”

She made a noise in frustration as the call disconnected. Ethan grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. He had questions, they were just going to have to wait until later.

“What’s going on?” Ethan asked, Y/N made a face and just as she went to answer, her phone rang. Looking down, Derek’s name flashed and she quickly answered.

“Hey, is Aaron with you?” she asked before he could say anything.

“No. That’s what I’m calling about,” Derek answered, and she could hear the worry in his voice. “We think he’s missing.”

There were a few things she could have said, she could tell him the truth that she knew who had him, or she could lie and act surprised. But there was someone she was thinking about at that moment. “What about Jack? Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Derek said and she sighed in relief that he was safe. “Rossi went to pick him up once we realized Hotch was gone. Wanna talk to him?”

“If he wants too,” she answered and waited as the phone moved and Jack’s voice filtered through. She smiled and turned slightly from Ethan at his curious look he sent her. “Hey, Jack. How’s it going?”

“Good! Uncle David came and got me and brought me to dad’s work. They said he was busy, as Spencer and Penelope are helping me with my homework,” he answered, “after Penelope said she had some games I could play.”

“That sounds fun,” she said, and couldn’t help the smile Jack brought her. “Make sure they feed you too. I don’t think I’ll come and get you today, sweetie.”

There was a moment of silence before Jack voiced the question she was hoping to avoid. “Dad’s missing, isn’t he?” Sighing, she rubbed her forehead as she thought of the best way to answer it. “Can you tell me? No one wants to tell me the truth, but I can take it. I know that they’ll find him and bring him back safely. I just want someone to tell me what’s happening.”

She took a moment to breathe before answering Jack. He was right, he deserved the truth no matter what was happening. “Yeah, your dad’s missing. We’re not sure who or what happened but we’re going to fight him.”

“I know,” he said and she felt the weight of trust Jack was giving her. And she made a promise to do whatever it took to find him. Even if it meant going against everyone. “Uncle Derek wants to talk to you. Be safe, okay?”

“I will. I love you,” she said before the phone shuffled back to Derek.

“It’s all hands-on deck, Hunt. We need you back here.”

“I know, but I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Derek asked, and she could tell he was getting frustrated with her and her non-answers.

“Trust me okay, I just can’t.” There was silence on both ends, and she could hear the fluttering of people running back and forth behind Derek. She wondered if he was in his office or out in the conference room.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” Derek questioned once he put the pieces together. You didn’t answer, but that was an answer of itself. “Oh man, you do. Then you need to come back to the office, if you know who has hotch. Fill us in.”

“I can’t Derek. Just trust me, okay? I have to go after her, just me. I won’t let you handle my mess.”

“Well, you should,” he grumbled, “we’re family and we help each other no matter what.”

“I know,” she whispered, taking a deep breath she let it out slowly. “But what I’m going to do, it goes against the FBI. Hell, it goes against everything we stand for. And I’m not going to risk your jobs over something I'm doing. You guys had your fair share of that, I’m not adding more to it.”

“You know we don’t care about that.”

“I know, but please Derek. Let me do this my way,” she begged and started counting. It helped with her nervousness, and she only hoped they would understand. Derek huffed and grumbled something before he answered.

“Okay, fine. Do it your way, but we’re not going to stop searching for him our way.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“But the minute you’re in trouble, call me. And we’ll be there to help.”

“Thanks Derek,” she said, smiling slightly. He grunted and wished her good luck before hanging up.

Tapping her phone against her fingers, she lets her eyes unfocus as she thought. There are many places Lily can go too, but it all depends on who she's still in contact with. She wouldn’t stay in the states long, preferring the warmth over the chilly air of Washington. She always did favour Dubai. Preferred being there and let her lackies do most of the heavy lifting. But she isn’t that stupid to go to places Y/N knows she might go. Maybe somewhere new? Maybe pull one over on her and stay Stateside, just somewhere now here. Maybe…

“You gonna explain what that’s all about?” Ethan asked, making her jump at the sudden sound that was in her ear. She blinked, forgetting that he was there and waiting for her to be done. “You got lost in your head again. Things never change.” He laughed as she turned to him and punched him in the arm.

“Like you’re one to talk,” she said and looked around. “Do you have a rendezvous point?” she asked, Ethan nodded and started walking. She quickly followed in silence, wanting to wait until they weren’t out in the open to talk.

As she walked, she turned off her phone, took out her SIM card and broke her phone. She didn’t want to, there were too many photos she cherished. But she was thankful she backed it up the night before, old habits die hard and she’s glad that was one of them she hasn’t broken.

“Why did you do that?” Ethan asked once they neared a shady looking motel. She raised an eyebrow at the state of it, but didn’t say anything about it.

“I have a friend I work with who’s really good with computers,” she answered, stepping through the door once he opened the door to the room he was staying in. “So much so, she could give Luther a run for his money.”

“Now I don’t know about that,” a deep voice called from somewhere in the room. She turned and looked towards-

“Luther!” she happily called, making her way towards him and gave him a hug. “Oh, it’s good to see you!”

“I just wish it was under better circumstances,” Luther said, patting her back as he pulled away.

“Me too,” she said, going and giving Benji a hug. “But we’re here now and we have to go forward.”

“Right. So now what?” Benji asked.

“Go through the museum’s security systems and comb through it until we find her,” she answered and frowned at the looks they were giving her. “What?”

“We did that and we seemed to have disappeared.”

“Okay,” she hummed, scratching her nose in thought. “So, we look through a different angle. Can you hack into the FBI security feeds?”

“Do ducks quack?” Luther asked as he went to work. In no time, they were watching the FBI offices. She instructed him what offices and the time she had in mind.

She watched as Aaron stepped out of his office with Garcia. They moved towards the conference room and stayed for a few minutes before everyone left the room. As Aaron made his way towards his office, he answered his phone. He paused on his walk, and she could see the worry lines wrinkling around his eyes.

She bit his lip and ignored her brother's stare as she continued watching. A second later, Aaron was rushing out of the office. “Luther?”

“Already on it,” he said, pressing a few buttons. She watched as Luther scanned through the security feeds until she spotted Aaron in the lobby. She watched as two men came up to him, whispering something to him before leaving the building.

“There,” she pointed out, stopping Luther.

“Who’s he with?” Benji asked, and all she could do was shrug.

“I don’t know, but whoever they are really got to him,” she mumbled, though she already knew the answer to that. She’s just thankful the team got to Jack before Lily could.

“Who is he?” Ethan asked, taking the picture from his pocket and holding it in front of her. “Who are they to you? And why did Lily go after him?”

“It’s like you said, Ethan. She’s coming after everyone that I love,” she answered, taking the photo from him. She stared at it with a soft smile. It was a picture she had taken on one of their days off. Jack had wanted to bake cookies with the two of them, and they couldn’t say no.

They had spent the day baking cookies, at one point Jack and Aaron had gotten into a flour fight. Along with the two of them, the kitchen was full of flour, and Y/N had snapped the photo of the two of them laughing.

“His name is Aaron Hotchner and the boy is Jack, his son. They’re my boys,” she continued when someone cleared their throat.

“Jack’s your son?” Benji asked, leaning over to see the picture. “Looks more like his dad than you.”

“No, he’s from a previous marriage. But I think of him as my own,” she answered, tracing the photo with her thumb. “And the only reason Aaron would be so frantic is if Jack’s in trouble. He’s safe,” she quickly added at the worried looks they were giving her. Afraid of bringing a child into this. “I don’t know who, but Lily found out about them.”

“So, you're married?”

“No, just dating. But we’ve been together for a couple of years,” she answered with a slight smile. “They’re my world and I would do anything to protect them.”

“Then let’s find them.”

With the photo safely tucked away in her pocket, they set to work.

Within a few hours the group of agents narrowed it down to four places she could be.

“Now what?”

“We split up,” she suggested, and Ethan immediately shook his head at the thought.

“No, no way am I letting you go off by yourself,” Ethan said, turning towards her. “She’s after you, Y/N. This is what she wants.”

“Maybe not,” she countered, crossing her arms, and giving her brother a challenging look. “No listen,” she continued, raising a hand up to stop him from saying something, “she has a one-track mind, and that’s to hurt me. And to her, she took the only one she thinks can hurt me. Granted, she was almost right, but I digress. With Aaron, she won’t come after me. Now she’s waiting.”

“For who?” Luther asked the question everyone was thinking.

“Me. She’s waiting for the fight to come to her. And I plan to bring it.”

“What if you're wrong? What if this is a ploy to get you alone?”

“Then I’m wrong,” she said with a shrug. “I’m willing to take the chance.” She stared at Ethan, ignoring the other two in the room as they continued their tense staring contest. “I can hold my own, you know that, Ethan. If I’m the first to find her, I’ll back off and call for backup.”

“You’ll wait until I get there?” Ethan asked, she nodded.

“Yes.”

Twenty hours later, Y/N found herself wandering around the city of Dubai. It had been a struggle to convince Ethan that she was fine taking Dubia, but she managed. She didn’t think Lily would be here anyway, it’d be the first place they would look, and Lily knew that.

After putting out feelers around the city, she made her way back to her hotel. She was tired from traveling and knew she needed to rest before she could continue her search.

Taking out her burner with the intention of calling Derek to check in, but changed her mind. She didn’t have the energy to explain why she was in Dubai nor the story of her past. Instead, she called Benji.

“Nothing to report here,” he answered when she asked for an update. “My contacts haven’t heard anything. And what Luther said, he hasn’t had any luck either.”

“What about Ethan?” she asked, trying not to sound frustrated. Judging by Benji’s voice, she wasn’t successful.

“Don’t know, haven’t heard anything from him yet. I’m meeting up with Luther and from there we’ll meet Ethan. How about you?”

“I spread the word now I’m just waiting,” she sighed out, throwing a smile to the hotel concierge as she walked past them to the elevator. “I’ll let you know if I’ve found anything.”

“Alright. Good luck.”

Dropping the phone on the bed, she soon followed and closed her eyes. Waiting had never been her strong suit, but for Aaron, she’s willing to try. Besides, finding Lily here was a long shot, so the chances of her here were slim.

A few hours later, Y/N wore up with a start. Groaning when it registered that her phone woke her up, she rolled over and reached for it.

“Hello?” she answered groggily.

“She’s here,” the person on the phone said. Y/N shot up, fully awake.

“Where?”

“In the desert. Apparently, while she was away, she had it built. Don’t know why or how she got the funds for it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving away the questions. It wasn’t her biggest worry anyway. “What kind of building?”

“A factor type, I think,” he answered, “though there hasn’t been much work coming out of it. As far as I can tell, it was abandoned once they finished building. I sent the blueprints and everything to ya.”

“You’re the best, Lance. I owe you one.”

Lance snorted at that. “I think you owe me more than one, Hunt. Good luck, kid.”

She stared at the phone in thought. She could go now and take Lily down, save Aaron. But that was a big risk she wasn’t sure she wanted to take. Sighing, she dialed Ethan’s number.

“Found her,” she said as soon as he picked up.

“You wait, you hear me,” Ethan warned. She rolled her eyes as she leaned over to grab her laptop.

“That’s what I’m doing,” she said, going through the email Lance sent her.

“Good. We’ll be there in four hours. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“How can I? You do all the stupid things first.”

By the time they arrived, she was prepared. “Looks like you're ready for war,” Benji noted when he entered her hotel room. She sent him a flat look.

“I had nothing to do but prepare for four hours. Of course, I’m ready.”

“You know where she is?” Luther asked, setting his bags down. Y/N turned her computer around so they had a better view.

“Know where she is, I know the layout of the building and I can guess where she’s keeping him.”

“And you didn’t go there by yourself?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow as a challenge. She crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Scouts honour,” she said, raising her right hand. “But I do have a van and everything ready once you’re all caught up.”

“Surprised you're not rushing us out the door.”

“I won’t risk Aaron’s life because I’m impatient.”

They spent an hour or two planning and memorizing the layout of the building. The plan was that Benji and Luther would stay in the van, directing them as needed. While Ethan and Y/N went inside to look for Aaron and Lily.

When they were all set, they left.

“Alright, looks like she set up security cameras around the building,” Luther noted as he parked in front of the building.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Benji voiced.

“It was never on our side,” Y/N said, checking her gun.

“Is that really necessary?”

“I’m an FBI agent, Benji. I won't go anywhere without it.”

“Noted.”

She ran through the building with Ethan, following Benji’s instructions. She turned when he said to turn, sometimes having to double back when there was no way around it. And eventually, she found the room where Lily was holding Aaron.

“Aaron!” she shouted, skidding into the room just in time to see Lily slip through the room. “Go, I have Aaron,” she said to Ethan, paying attention to him, assessing him.

“Are you sure?” Ethan asked, she nodded and Ethan left the two of them alone.

Y/N slowly approached Aaron, noticing that he was unconscious. She looked him over and sighed in relief when she couldn’t see any physical wounds on him.

She turned to the bomb that was snug around his neck. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over to study it better.

“Okay,” she whispered to no one in particular, “okay I can do this.”

Y/n’s earpiece crackled to life and she heard Benji ask, “Do what?” She debated whether to tell him or not. “Do what, Y/N?” He asked again.

“There’s a bomb,” she said, wincing when Benji yelled in her ear. “I can’t exactly move him. It looks like it’ll go off if he moves.”

“Pressure activation?” Luthor asked. She hummed, and leaned closer to get a better look.

“It looks like a twitch could set this thing off,” she confirmed, “damn she’s gotten better at this. Gotta hand it to her.”

“How about we don’t,” Benji mumbled, “how’s your boyfriend?”

“Sleeping for now. But I don’t know how long he’ll be out,” she said, leaning closer. “It also looks like it's radio controlled. And from what I can see around the room, it’s not here.”

“What about the bomb itself?”

She laid on her stomach to get a better look. “No timer, that’s good. And it looks like she made sure she was the only one who controls whether it goes off or not.”

“Oh, that’s good then?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “Like I said, if he moves it goes off.”

“So, then it’s just a really bad game of Russian Roulette,” Benji voiced what she was thinking.

“Looks like it,” she said. And just then, Aaron stirred from his sleep. She cupped his cheeks, and helped him move slowly. “Hey, I know you’re a little groggy but I need you to stay still.”

“Y/N?” Aaron asked, blinking slowly. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked instead of answering.

“Um,” he started, furrowing his brows in thought. “I got a call about Jack…Jack,” he said and started to shift. “Jack’s in trouble. We gotta...we have to…”

“Hey, hey Aaron. Jack’s safe,” she soothed, smoothing his cheeks with her thumbs. “Jack’s safe and is waiting for you to come home. But before we can do that, you need to listen to me. Can you do that?”

He studied her before he answered, and she could see the shift in his eyes as he focused on her. “Okay. What do we have?”

“Okay, okay. Currently, you're tied up in a chair with a bomb strapped around your neck,” she answered, ignoring Benji saying that Ethan caught up to Lily.

“And you can’t disarm it?”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t. If I try, it’ll go off. It also goes off if you move as well. So, you need to stay still, okay? It's radio controlled, so we’re waiting for my brother to handle that.”

“You never mentioned that!” Benji shouted in her ear. “Next time say something about it going off if you tried taking it off. Spending all this time searching for a way to disarm it, when there’s nothing we can do.”

“Benji, shut up,” Y/N hissed, “how’s it going Ethan?”

“Working on it,” he grunted and you figured he was in a fight.

“You’re not alone?” Aaron asked, though it sounded more of a statement.

“No. I’m with people I used to work with. Your team is still in DC looking for you.”

“We’re not in Washington.”

“We’re not Stateside anymore,” she answered and elaborated when he stared at her in confusion. “Dubai. A day or so ago, after your phone call they knocked you out and brought you here.”

“And who are they?”

“Someone from my past,” she said, “I’ll tell you about it once we’re safe. Promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he said and before either of them could say another word, they heard a clicking sound coming from the collar.

“Ethan.”

“Working on it.”

“Work faster.”

“You need to leave,” Aaron said, drawing her attention back to him. Her grip tightened slightly on his face, and she shook her head.

“I will do no such thing, Aaron. I’m staying here with you.”

“I’m ordering you to go,” he said in the voice he uses when they’re out on a case, and he’s barking orders at everyone.

Normally you would listen to him and go, but this isn’t a normal situation. “Respectfully, I’m going to have to disobey.”

“I love you,” he whispered, not wanting to fight with you anymore.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, leaning her forehead against his, and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long before they heard a hissing sound. Y/N held her breath, trying not to be too hopeful.

“You’re in the clear, take it off,” Ethan said after a moment.

“Thank fuck,” she whispered, shoulders sagging as she went to remove it. Once it was off, she gently tossed it to the sighed and hugged Aaron.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Aaron whispered in her hair, hugging her just as tight.

“And I will,” she replied. “What about Lily?” she spoke into her ear piece.

“She won’t be a problem anymore,” Ethan replied, and she could hear footsteps coming towards them. “Come on, let's go.”

After leaving the building, and they were at a safe distance, Ethan detonated the bomb. Once they reached the city, they called it in and went to get Aaron checked out.

While he was busy with doctors, Y/N stepped out and arranged a ride home. “Ready to go home?” she asked once Aaron was in the clear.

“Ready.”

The plane was silent after she told Aaron everything about her past, after answering all of his questions. There were snores to be heard from behind her, and if she really listened, she could hear Aaron breath as he processed everything.

But her attention was looking out the window, waiting. For what? She didn’t know, but she hoped Aaron wouldn’t dismiss her.

“Jack?” Aaron asked, breaking the silence.

“Morgan had said Rossi took him out of school when they found out you were missing,” she answered without turning towards him. “I’m assuming he’s still with him now.”

“You don’t know?” Aaron asked, surprised. She shook her head and sighed.

“I cut off communications with them when I found out who was involved,” she said, “it was my mess and I didn’t want them to get in trouble.”

“They wouldn’t have minded,” he said softly. She blew out a breath and slowly nodded.

Silence fell again, and she fought the urge to shake her friends awake at the noise they’re making.

“I need time to process everything,” Aaron broke the silence again. She turned towards him, searching his face to see if there was an underlying message. There wasn’t, but she knew he could always change his meaning.

“Okay,” she agreed, slumping into her chair, “but I’m taking some vacation days for the next week or so.”

“You don’t have-”

“I do,” she interrupted him. “It’ll be easier for the both of us. Please, let me do this.”

Aaron nodded and leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes he let himself relax. “Okay. Okay,” he whispered.

She studied him as she thought. This was one of the possibilities of Aaron finding out. Would she have preferred him accepting her and continuing their lives as normal? Yes. But just having a conversation without the yelling and fighting was more than she could have asked for.

And on some level, Aaron had accepted her for who she is and was as a person. He just didn’t want that person to be in Jack’s life, which is fair. Being an IMF agent might be a bit different then being FBI. It wasn’t a huge difference, but still. Jack can’t lose another parent and Aaron was only protecting his son.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and ignored everyone for the rest of the flight.

Once the plane landed, Y/N watched Aaron get in a taxi and drove off. She felt Ethan move to stand beside her, arm wrapped around her shoulders in a hug.

“Need a place to stay?” Ethan asked and she side eyed him, confused.

“Don’t you live in LA?” she asked, he shrugged as he sent her a smile.

“So? You’re on vacation and I have a spare bedroom with your name on it,” he answered. She turned to study him for a minute before sighing.

“Yeah, what the hell,” she said after a minute. “Might be good for me.”

She hoped it would, hope that this isn’t the end with her and Aaron. But only time will tell.

#aaron hotchner x hunt!reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds imagine #mission impossible imagine #ethan hunt x sister!reader #aaron hotchner x reader

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cakesandfail · 1 year

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A short list of things that happen in a single scene in Guards Guards:

One and a half pages exclusively describing Vetinari, including an entire paragraph about how he looks like he's into some freaky shit but is actually just a boring nerd*

"But he was popular, in a way" hmm yeah can't think why!!! yes I know it's immediately explained why but honestly Terence you can't say these things so close together I'm going to need a lie down

Learn The Words

Vetinari brooding in the rain. Peak Goth.

Vimes and Vetinari having their first shared brain cell moment over the dragon, even though Vetinari is blatantly lying about it like "this is fine :)"

Carrot almost arresting Vetinari for a minor traffic offence and Vimes shitting his pants about it. Oh, Mister Vimes, if only you knew what's in your own future

Anyway I'm going to go insane :) this was supposed to be about all of them but no! nope!!! I'm having a 'goth dad brain rot' relapse and I have zero regrets

*this is an occupational hazard of being a boring goth. ask me how I know.**

**please do Not ask me how I know.

#gem rereads the watch #patricianblogging #i would tag this Properly but i think i've already embarrassed myself enough lmao #i haven't quite reached 'practicing your new signature in your diary' levels like cosmo lavish though #at least there's that

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iavenjqasdf · 4 months

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👷‍♀️occupational hazards🐜

WorkerAnt, the world's app-first construction contracting platform, revolutionized the building-building industry. All you gotta do is just scroll through a couple of boring legal things on your phone and check some boxes and voila; you have everything you need to try and build a living with your own two hands! Who needs a fancy degree, or the hassle of going to a trade school? I certainly didn't!

They didn't even make me do a drug test, or ask why my name and sex didn't match what it still says on my license, so honestly it's like a win/win for everyone involved.

I did my paid training in like 20 minutes; I just needed to watch a few videos telling me where to go and what I’ll get fired for, plus one on how to use pronouns respectfully.

I already knew most of the stuff they were telling me, so I pretty much just got paid to relearn what the right things to call myself are for liability purposes. I usually do that for free!

Every day, all I gotta do is show up at the check-in location, get handed all my tools, and then I take my mandatory 30 minute lunch break in the app right as I wait in line for the elevator up to the job site, so I can focus on nothing but work for the next 12 hours. I don’t need to worry about food anyways, because they sometimes throw pizza parties for us, and there might be a few slices left when I come back down.

Most of the time work’s pretty boring; I'm just hammering some boards together or whatever. The whole building looks like it's basically already all built, so I'm not sure what all the things we're attaching and connecting to each other are supposed to do, and I don’t get paid enough to care.

But I can’t complain. It’s an honest job; I have tasks to accomplish and all the tools I need to accomplish them, as long as I don't fuck something up.

I'm very happy with this arrangement and it's all worked out really great for me so far.

It does get a bit lonely up there sometimes though.

There is my one coworker, Lana; I think she might also be trans, though it's kinda hard to tell under the hard hat goggles and respirator I always see her wearing. But she's always polite at me and doesn’t give me any trouble, and the bits of her voice I’ve heard that aren’t drowned over by power tools sound really nice.

Sometimes I think about it even when she's not around, which now that I think about it is kinda like stealing from the job site, and that’s a firable offense, so maybe I shouldn't be doing it.

She tends to work late like me, too. It takes us both longer than everyone else to finish all our tasks, but at least they pay us almost as much!

Tonight, it's New Year's Eve, and we're the only ones still up there; hammering stuff together, unable to look out at the empty city below, lit up and then abandoned for the season, because I'm being paid the minimum tipped wage to cut a 2x4 with a dinky little dollar store dremel, and we have to finish up before the sun sets, cause the cost of running the lights gets taken outta your pay.

BZZSCHLKK!

And now my finger hurts too.

I look down, staring at the little squiggly meat piece of guy lying on the workbench, and after a minute I realize that oh shit, that used to be part of my right pinky.

So might the scarlet mist that now covers most of the walls and floor. I’m gonna have to get THAT painted over before the end of my shift, too.

First things first, though.

"Um, hey Lana?"

The whirring echoing from the other side of the room powers down. Lana pulls her plastic goggles over the rim of her hard hat, both now spritzed ever-so-gently with my crimson phalangemarrow. She looks only mildly concerned as she swims upstream along the spatter pattern.

One of the stickers on her hat catches the sunlight, holographic prism reflections dazzling my vision before my pattern recognition software kicks in-

Y-yeah, I know what that logo is. I’m too afraid to ask her if she does, too though. They make s*x t*ys, after all, and I think those are by definition Not Safe For Work.

Without saying a word she grabs my wrist, yanking my hand up to her face to examine it. Even under the visor, her eyes are red; bloodshot, and they scare me a little, so I try speaking up.

"Um, Lana, I think I need to go to the, uh. Hospital, place,"

"Why?"

I stare at her, dumbfounded for a second, before a pulse of pain reminds me of the severance’s urgency.

"W-well, to get it, like, reattached, y'know?"

She looks at the little meat squiggum lying sadly on the bench, letting go of my hand.

"Not really anything left to reattach."

Her voice is muffled by the respirator, but her expression is one of almost boredom. I feel bad for offending her, even though I’m not sure how I did it.

I try flexing a bit. OUCH! Bad idea. I pinch hard just below the cut, to try to keep more things from coming out of me. "W-well, we have to at least try…"

She eyes her own workstation impatiently, dying orange skyfire burning in the reflections of her eyes. A little spurt of blood squirts out of my pinky stump.

"Look, if you keep wasting time worrying about stupid little things like that, you’re not gonna last long here.”

What the fuck is she talking about?! I’m very badly hurt, and I need to go get it checked out right away. Tears well up in my eyes as I keep staring at where my finger now ends, just above the second knuckle.

I'll never get to pinky promise silly things to my little sister again; I’d only have a reminder of this loss, something permanently removed I could never get back.

I inhale a sniffle. "P-please, we gotta go. I don't wanna go around rounding up the number of fingers I have for the rest of my life."

She rolls her eyes, reshielding them with her goggles. "Would a round number make you feel better?"

"What?"

My dremel's motor whines to life as she turns back to face me.

"For symmetry, y'know?"

Her tone concerns me.

She grabs my good hand, forcing it flat against the workbench. I try to pull free, but my knees are still a bit wobbly from the pain, and I don’t want to risk any sudden moves around the little spinning amputation death motor, so I can't try too hard.

“L-listen, I’m sorry for involving you. J-just let me go and I-I’ll just clock myself out, and get to the hospital on my own…” My hand grasps at her, trying to push her away, but all I succeed in doing is knocking her respirator loose, and I gasp as all the gouges and scars and other missing bits of her face come into focus at last.

I see her teeth click as her jaw clenches, bone trembling with the purest expression of rage. Her knuckles are white around the dremel.

"Long term, working here is gonna take a lot more of you than I’m gonna.”

BZZZZZZSZCHLRRKKRRRRRK--

“Oh, hold on, it got stuck.”

My vision doubles and quadruples, the room swimming around me as I try to keep myself from passing out. This is obviously a dream, and hey, I haven’t had one of these in a while, let’s just try to keep it going right hahahaha-

WHRRRGGZZCCHLLTLTTTTTT!

The spinny deathblade plants another gentle kiss against my fingerbone, tingling my entire skeleton with electromechanical sparks. I stare at a bead of sweat tracing down Lana's cheek as the blade grinds through at last with a spray of calcium white.

The whine fades as the disposable plastic motor inside the tool gets gummed up with mutilated chunks of gore. My mouth hangs open making a noise and I'm afraid it's probably kind of a pathetic one. The bottoms of my goggles are filling up with tears, but that means I’m doing a good job of keeping the crying contained inside, so there's a chance Lana might still think I'm cool.

“There you go. Eight plus two halves equals nine. Almost as many as before.”

“ohgodohgodohgodohgod-” I wish I had something more interesting to say.

“What? I thought you wanted a round number.”

“Ijustwantedmyhandstobenormalagain-”

She pauses for a moment, then wanders off into the neighboring room, leaving me standing there, trembling alone in the dark.

I think about trying to find my own way back to the elevator, but I’m afraid of tripping over a lead pipe or something on the ground and having to use my damaged limbs to break my fall and mangling them further, and I don’t wanna get my phone all bloody to use the flashlight either, so I stay put.

Fireworks burst off in the distance, prematurely celebrating the dawn of a big new thing. I try not to look down at my mutilated handflesh, instead insisting my gaze on the sunset bathing over the city.

It's a really nice view, and I don't know if I'll get to be up here to enjoy it ever again.

“Okay, here, I can fix everything.”

She's returned, and I can’t get away from her because I don’t want to say no, so I let her take my bleeding broken hands and lead me to the workbench again.

Behind her gore-spattered goggles, I can see her eyes are swimming with tears now too, like she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing either, but I don't even hate her for it, I don't think.

"Here, just hold onto me. I'll fix you."

She presses up close, close enough that I can feel a bit of her heat even through her jacket. She takes my unrecognizably mutilated hand in her own and strokes it softly.

The lead in my stomach sinks deeper when I see that she's holding a staple gun in her other.

I tighten my grip, spilling blood onto her palm.

THUNK.

----------------------------------------

She sweeps the remains of my amputated digits off the ledge with her boot, sending little chunks of meat tumbling into the glimmering city grid. Thankfully, the night is cold enough now that I can't feel much of my hands at all.

Staple gun didn't work out too good.

She fiddles with something on the side of her hard hat, and a light comes on. It's kind of dim, but it's better than nothing.

We walk past piles of unsawed boards, boxes of nails and wrenches and other tool things. Neither of us say anything to each other. Even more fireworks are whistling and exploding above the city in the distance but I'm not getting paid to care.

She stands beside me in the dusk-filled elevator. We descend slow, neither of us averting our gaze from the doors sealed tight in front of us.

“Um, Lana?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I'm coming in to work tomorrow.”

“You’re not,” she states plainly. “Any injury sustained on the clock is grounds for termination, remember?”

“Oh, right…”

We’re quiet for a while. I don’t like the silence, the emptiness, so I try to fill it as always. “Um, I’m sorry for getting you involved…”

“It’s fine,” she lets out a quivering little sigh and turns to face me at last. “I don’t think they were gonna keep me on much longer, either way. I waste a lot of staples…”

I pick at a little crooked piece of metal worming its way through the layers of fat and muscle that once made up our entwined fingers, wondering how much more might need to be amputated by the time we get to a hospital, then a laugh catches in my throat, when I remember we no longer have health insurance.

ao3

#📝#guro #ero guro #original fiction #toxic yuri #worker ants

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biancadjarin · 1 year

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modern!toxic!fuckboy!eddie has completely taken over my brain thanks to @newlips and @carolmunson they’re both so amazing plz go read their stuff first!!

this has been on my mind for a few days so… here we are 🫡 ⌚️

18+ warnings: mentions of drugs, sexual situations, shoplifting, cursing. Reader is needy and delusional. Eddie is manipulative.

You sit on Eddie’s lap as he focuses on rolling a blunt, your thighs straddling either side of his. He sprinkles the sticky green buds so haphazardly you watch as probably a gram’s worth spills out of the cigar paper and onto the couch beneath the two of you. “Occupational hazard.” he mumbles with a shrug as your hands come up to cradle beneath his to prevent more wasted weed. While his eyes focus on finishing up the blunt, he juts his chin up at you, signaling to you wordlessly what he wants you to do. You glance at his long pale neck, the fading pink and purple traces of an old hickey you didn’t give him staring back at you. You know Eddie sees other girls, he never hid that. But you can’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach when you think of another girl’s lips on his skin. Eddie has a way of making you feel wanted, special, singular. And even though the little voice in your head is yelling at you to get a grip, he’s not worth the games he puts you through! You keep coming back for more.

You lean into him and begin to nibble at the warm skin of his neck, leaving lipgloss kisses and kitten licks that you softly blow cold air onto to watch the goosebumps erupt on his skin. A small moan plays deep in his throat, almost too quiet to hear, like he’s holding it in. Not wanting to make it obvious how easily you can make him fall apart. When your acrylic tipped fingers rake down his chest over his faded Corroded Coffin shirt and land on his pecs, you feel his heart thumping faster than it was a few minutes ago. If I could just prove to him how much he wants me, needs me, loves me then maybe it could always be like this. Just us. You think to yourself.

“Do you like that baby?” You ask him sweetly, fingers playing with the chain around his neck. “Uhh yeah.” He mumbles flatly. “Feels so good.” His placating should annoy you but it does the opposite. It just makes you more eager to please him. His fingers bring the blunt to his mouth to lick a stripe and he seals it, holding it between his lips as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. You continue making out with his neck, his unruly hair tickling your cheek. He lets out a snort as he reads his texts, the hand not holding his phone rubbing your back absentmindedly. Your brain tells you not to peek over your shoulder at his phone but your eyes wander to the lit up screen, his thumb typing quickly to reply to a message. The name at the top reads Daisy Hideout and the little circle image looks like lips wrapped around the head of Eddie’s- you look away with a shudder before you can examine the picture too closely. As Eddie answers a few more texts you roll your eyes and bite down a little too hard on the vein you’ve been sucking at, earning a fuck and hissed breath from him. “So are we gonna smoke now or what?” you ask, rolling your hips forward and pressing your crotch into his lap. He drops his phone to the side and smirks watching the way you press into him.

“Remember what I told you about being patient?” He teases you as his hands come up to grab your waist, pulling your torso into his face. “I don’t like being patient. Or sharing.” You reply. He shakes his head, sighing as he nuzzles his nose into the fabric of your shirt. Your hardened nipples poke through and he runs his lips over them, letting his nose bump into them as he switches back and forth. “We’ve gone over this y/n.” He begins, “Don’t start acting like I’m your boyfriend because I’m not.” You let out a soft whine and snatch the blunt from his lips. He rests a hand on your hip while he leans over to grab his lighter and ashtray. You inhale as he flicks the lighter to the end of the blunt, tip burning and sizzling a cherry red. He watches the smoke drift out of your nose while his hands continue to roam your body. His right hand bumps into something bulky in your backpocket. His eyebrows pull together as he looks at you questioningly.

“Well then if you’re not my boyfriend, maybe I shouldn’t give you your gift.” You say swatting his hand away. He narrows his eyes at you, “What gift?” He asks as he takes the blunt and inhales. “The thing you showed me at the pawn shop last week…” His eyes go wide as he readjusts you on his lap, sitting up straighter and reaching for your pocket again. His hand slips in and pulls out the shiny silver watch. Your hearts racing with nerves and excitement just like it was the day you stole it. You’d never admit it but you kind of like stealing things. Especially for Eddie. And especially from greasy pawn shop owners who are so easy to distract with a little cleavage and hair twirling. Fuck it, it was probably a stolen Rolex to begin with.

“Holy shit holy shit.” He says as he drops the blunt into the ashtray. “You actually fucking stole this?” You nod with a small shrug, “You said you really wanted it.. d’ya like it?” “It’s a fucking Daytona Rolex of course I like it. And it has the platinum dials too shit.” Your cheeks warm as you watch him examine it closely. “Put it on.” you tell him as you take his hand in yours and help him latch it closed, perfectly fitting around his tattooed wrist. He turns his wrist in the light, little sparkles and rainbow bursts flickering across the two of your bodies. His impossibly warm brown eyes shimmer more than usual, the reflection of the diamonds in the watch making his irises look like a galaxy full of stars. “You.. you stole this.. for me?” he asks you quietly, voice filled with apprehension. You nod, “Of course. I wanted to show you how loyal I am. I hope this proves that.” you say, fingertips gently scratching underneath his chin, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “I’d do anything for you Eddie.”

Eddie looked at the beautiful girl sitting in his lap, her eyes filled with love and mind clouded with infatuation. He wasn’t thinking about this happening when he mentioned to her the Rolex sitting in the Hawkins Pawn Shop was at the top of his to buy list. But he’s happy at this turn of events. “Anything huh?” He has you exactly where he wants you.

masterlist here

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #fboy!eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut

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milkymoon2483 · 1 year

Text

Tension | episode 3 - Occupational hazard

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Francisco Morales x female reader

WC: ~6300

Summary: Frankie doesn’t call or text, until he has a back issue again that is. You're a little mad, and he finds a way to apologize.

Disclaimer: Same as the last time basically; I’m not a massage therapist. The thoughts and actions described in this one are, as the title says, unprofessional. I do not mean to sexualize the job massage therapists do. I only mean to oil Frankie up in order to eventually serve you all with some deep-fried filthy smut, like you deserve. *There are edible massage oils. Google says so. *Assume they had the whole ‘are you clean? Are you on the pill?’ convo off-screen.

Rating: E. MINORS DNI. 18+

Warnings: SMUT with all capitals. This is porn ma'am. Unprotected P in V, Oral (F receiving), fingering, and a bunch of other goodies.

Occupational hazard

Text her pendejo, just pick up your fucking phone and text. You’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Just be done with it. What’s the worst that can happen? She thinks you're a creep and she will politely ignore you or tell you to find someone else. Just stop torturing yourself and text the girl.

Frankie repeated the conversation he has been having with himself a few times a day for the past week. A sharp pang hit his gut every time you crossed his mind, he began feeling almost guilty, but then again, maybe you weren’t expecting him to text at all. The bouts of self doubt came and went, where he’d be feeling confident and sure of himself one day, he would somehow manage to convince himself that he had no basis for that feeling the very next.

Why would a sweet, funny, pretty girl like you would actually want him? What business did you have getting involved with someone this damaged? He didn’t want to seem like an over- eager old creep. The thought paralyzed him, made him disregard any notion of you reciprocating his feelings.

When Joel called asking to borrow Frankie’s truck to move his notoriously heavy couch, he found himself insisting on helping him with the move. The nine foot brown leather monstrosity was being shipped off to the junkyard, to the great delight of Joel’s wife, Melissa. She was ecstatic at the thought of finally replacing it, after thirteen years.

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to regret them. “Joel stop being an ass and let me help you, your back is fucked up and Mel will kill you if you try to do it by yourself”

Frankie was making a good enough point for Joel to reluctantly agree, with the promise of feeding him some lunch when they were done. Melissa was more than happy to cook for whomever got “Jabba the couch” out of her house.

The drizzle intensified as Frankie was driving, he hated the rain with a passion and it filled him with a sense of unease, like it was somehow attacking him personally. He knew however that this had to be done, and it had to be done today, since the new couch was arriving later that afternoon.

Suddenly the thought of you crossed his mind, the inviting treatment room, dimly-lit and smelling of fresh laundry and essential oils. Your warm deft hands on him, the sweetness of your voice and your smile. It filled him with comforting warmth, maybe texting you wasn’t such a far fetched idea after all. He didn’t let his mind wander further to the swell of your ass and the way that your top seemed to cling to your perfect breasts, otherwise he would be arriving at Joel's with a raging boner.

45 minutes after they started, the men were finally able to get the couch out of the front door. Both were already panting and sweaty and they still had a long way to go. Thankfully the rain subsided and they were able to load it onto the truck faster than anticipated.

“So… how do you like your new massage therapist?” Joel asked with a knowing smile.

“She’s, yeah…she’s great, really helped me” Frankie replied, hanging onto some last modicum of discretion.

“She did now, didn’t she?” Joel cocked his eyebrows.

“Fuck off man, she gave me a massage. Yeah it was really good” Frankie scoffed. He’d say you’re also funny and charming and hot. But he already saw the shit eating grin spread on Joel’s face.

When the truck backed into the junk yard Frankie already noticed the dire state of the muddy ground, that was sure to make their job harder.

The rain picked up again, soaking into their clothes as they attempted to unload the brown behemoth. They pushed it slowly out of the back of the truck, attempting to support its weight as much as possible. The couch was hanging by a thread, half of it still on the truck and the other half held by both men. That was when Joel’s boot slipped. He laid his weight on the couch in an attempt to brace himself, causing it to topple over the edge. Frankie’s instinct to try and stop it from falling over was clearly misguided as he felt a muscle in his back pull, before he leaped backwards, landing flat on his ass in the mud.

The hysterical laughter that ensued was inevitable, and ensured Frankie and Joel that they both were fine.

An hour and a half after they departed both men strolled into Melissa’s aptly named mud-room, soaking and filthy. Frankie can sure pull this look off. She thought to herself as she took their sight in, immediately bursting into laughter herself.

“My heroes! Looks like Jabba put up a fight. Let’s get you cleaned and fed” she chimed.

*******

Another day passed without any messages from Frankie, you were past feeling disappointed, veering into the indifferent zone. You were still mad at yourself though, waiting for him to throw you a bone like some kind of hookup that never bothered texting after the fact. How pathetic.

You understood that there were some things that were not supposed to come into fruition. You didn’t really know him, there could have been a thousand different reasons for him not to reach out. The sting of unfulfilled potential was bound to wear off eventually.

You were sprawled on the couch after a particularly long day, watching Brooklyn nine-nine for the umpteenth time, still in your work clothes, minus the bra.

The soft *ping* of your phone went unnoticed.

It was three AM when you woke up, delirious and confused, you were greeted with the “are you still watching?” Netflix message. It took a while to register exactly where you are and how you fell asleep. You threw yourself on the bed, vowing to shower in the morning, when your hand landed on your phone that laid discarded on your comforter.

You picked it up to check the time, but your eyes went straight to the notification instead. You blinked twice just to make sure you were not imagining this.

Hey there. How are you?I wanted to ask if you have any appointments available soon, I think I pulled a muscle.ThanksFrancisco.

Really??!

“Hi there”..?! “I pulled a muscle”?!You repeated his message out loud with the most mocking tone you could muster.

You put your phone down, realizing quickly that a three AM response would probably be ill-advised. You could fume about this for a few hours and respond when you were calmer, and in a more reasonable hour.

I’m ok, thank you. Thursday 18:00.

It took you four hours to come up with this.

You hit the send button and quickly tossed your phone aside, with every intention of ignoring it for at least four hours more.

********

Great, see you then.

He replied back nervously. Is she pissed?

Frankie was talented and accomplished in many fields, texting however, wasn't his forte. He debated whether or not to ask anyone about this, opting to share with Melissa.

After a brief retelling of what happened between you, she concluded with confidence;

"Oh, she's definitely pissed."

"But Mel, What the hell did I do?" He was confused. He had a general feeling, that maybe the flirtation was a bit too much and it creeped you out, maybe you were only treating him because he's friends with Joel, and that you want to keep it professional moving forward.

Melissa however had an entirely different explanation.

"Francisco, sweetie, that's not it. It's what you didn't do. God how do you men even function, when every non-technical detail needs to be explained to you?!"

"Huh?" Was his only response.

"You have a degree in aviation and can do advanced math in your head, but this is beyond your comprehension?"

The face she made was truly bewildered.

"You flirted her face off, gave her a kiss on the cheek, made it purposefully 'hot' as you admitted yourself, and then, you did nothing. Not a call or a text. Just silence"

"Oh" it seemed so painfully obvious when she explained it that way.

"And then, after more than a week passed, you asked to schedule what is essentially a work appointment for her"

"Oh..fuck" Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face in embarrassment.

"Yeah, fuck indeed, no wonder she's pissed. Shit men are dumb."

Frankie nodded. Yeah we are.

*******

17:23 the clock glowed. Your five pm canceled, causing the time to crawl even slower, each second stretched like a piece of old gum, now that you had nothing better to do than sit and wait for him.

You plucked your eyebrows and picked at your nails and even watered your lone plant, the one that managed to survive. You named it Harry, the fern who lived.

17:34 You proceeded to eat a banana, then a cookie, then brushed your teeth because said cookie left a strange taste in your mouth. A part of you wished he'd cancel too. The affect of him has worn off, but you knew that the moment he walks in it will undoubtedly return with a vengeance, punching you harder, hitting you faster.

17:48 You checked yourself in the mirror, for the eleventh time. You were mad, but you were not about to let him catch you looking like crap. Push up bra was back on. And perhaps a tiny bit of tinted lip balm, and maybe some strategically placed perfume.

17:57 *Ding Dong*

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the doorbell. You stopped yourself for a moment, closing your eyes and repeating your mantra. He’s just a client.

The motherfucker was wearing a sweater. How dare he.

The thin-knit forest green material hugged him perfectly, extenuating the broadness of his shoulders and the soft definition of his pecks. The white t-shirt peeking from the collar was the final straw, pulling your eyes onto his long neck, bringing out the sun-kissed hue of his skin.

“Hey” He smiled softly, turning his eyes to the floor as he walked in.

“Hi” you replied simply, dryly. Stretching a polite fake smile on your face, trying to ignore how goddamn infuriatingly good he looked. Sweaters were your personal kryptonite.

He’s just a client.

The air was tense when you walked into the treatment room. Frankie’s gut was in knots as you kept quiet, not letting any pleasantries slip past your lips. He understood now that the ball was in his court, Mel made that perfectly clear.

“Can we talk for a moment?” He asked hesitantly.

”Is it treatment-related?” you replied, as calmly as possible.

“Well..I don’t think it is” He took a deep breath before he continued.

“See, I meant to text you but I didn’t want you to think..”

“Frankie, I think it’s best if we talk after.” You stopped him mid sentence. You assumed you knew what this was about, but letting him stew for a bit seemed like a good idea. Maybe your hands on him would help jog his memory as to why he needed to apologize in the first place.

Truth be told, you were afraid that no matter what he said you would not be able to continue after that, so you asked him to wait, not to change anything between the two of you just yet.

“Yeah, we can do that” he replied. Unsure of himself.

“Now, can you tell me which muscle you think you pulled?” This was your attempt to pull on the “therapist” mask, to resume your role as the clinical professional.

“It’s right around here” he pointed to his mid-lower back. You assumed it’s around the T12 vertebrae.

“What happened?” You asked, genuinely curious as to the reason he finally contacted you.

“I helped Joel move a couch to the junkyard and landed on my ass in the mud”

“Ouch” You chuckled at his response. Serves you right.It was damn near impossible to stay mad at him.

Your hands slipped under his sweater as you prodded him through the soft cotton of his tee. It felt so intimate, so incredibly personal, even more than when your oiled palms glided all over his skin. He could feel the ghost of your breath at the back of his neck as you leaned a little closer and it made his skin prickle, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

You could smell him, inhaling deeply the soft clean scent of his soap. You bit your tongue, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him, to cling to his warmth. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

As he was getting ready, you stared at the door of the treatment room. You couldn't help but imagine him pulling off his sweater and tee with one swift motion, revealing his bare chest, the muscles of his back rippling under his skin, the long arms pulling the fabric, the way his hair would bounce. Every single detail you could think of seemed to spur you on, causing the heat to pull between your thighs.

He’s just a client.

Gone was the indulgent want for you to touch him, it was replaced with a desperate need. A low huff left his lips as soon as your hands were on him. Finally However he might have wronged you, your touch felt like forgiveness, a soothing balm on his nerves.

Why did he wait so fucking long? What the hell was stopping him? Was it wrong for him to want this for himself? Was he truly so far beyond redemption that he didn’t even deserve this? The thoughts that swirled in his mind began to quiet one by one, brushed off by the slide of your hands, melted by the drizzle of hot oil.

“I’m going to warm you up before we take care of that knot” you stated, granting him another delicious slide up his back. You relished every centimeter of skin at your fingertips.

“Mhmmm” he purred back. God I missed that sound.

He shuddered with excitement as he felt the bed dip beneath you. You climbed on and settled on his left. You began pressing into his muscle but the angle wasn’t right, you needed to change the position.

The gentle tap on his thigh encouraged him to spread his legs as you rolled the sheet back off his left leg. He was confused but followed along, he would comply with anything you’d ask of him. He swallowed thickly as he felt your knee between his thighs.

Now your thumbs rolled into his aching muscle again and again, the knot was easy to find and each swipe of your hands hit it accurately. You could see his face contorted with pain, and you knew it would hurt, he tensed up and grunted as the pads of your fingers dug deeper into him, unwavering ,circling the painful spot over and over again.

“I know it’s painful” you said quietly, attempting to assure him that it will not be long now.

“No good deed goes unpunished” he replied with a slight chuckle that made you smile.

The truth was, he was thankful for the pain, the only thing distracting him from the heavenly heat emanating from your core. He could feel it on his leg and it took everything in his power not to imagine you riding his thigh. The heat crept up his groin slowly, clawing towards his cock, unstoppable and unrelenting. He was afraid that a moment would arrive when the pain was not enough.

If he only knew.. if he had any idea… You counted his vertebrae and listed the latin names of his back muscles one by one. Trapezius, Deltoid, Teres Major, Latissimus Dorsi…Desperate attempts to think about anything other than the warmth radiating off him, the graze of his thigh against yours.

The knot was almost gone now and you slid the heels of your palms on both sides of his spine one last time.

"Ow!" he yelped. “I think…when you slide your hands like that, I think some pain is radiating..lower?” He didn’t quite know how to explain the sharp pang in his right butt cheek.

“That’s quite possible actually, that you have some other knot we missed and it can definitely radiate onto your glutes. Can I check?”

“Is that your professional way to ask me for permission to touch my butt?”

“Guilty as charged. It also happens to be the largest muscle in the body… so I have a perfectly good excuse”

“Well, I’m at your mercy, as usual” He turned his head backwards as much as possible and smiled his soft signature smile, banishing any traces of anger or annoyance you might have been holding on to.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” You smiled back now. His heart felt lighter at the sound of your voice.

“I’ll repeat the motion and you tell me exactly where you feel the pain”

You slid your hands again and watched his face scrunch up. He pointed his hand on his right buttock.

“I’m going to have to tuck those a bit higher” you pulled at his boxers gently.

“Mhm” he nodded and swallowed thickly. This might be a problem. Shit.

Gently but efficiently you rolled his boxers up, exposing a soft little butt cheek. Tiny pale stretch marks ran across its side. You tried not to stare, but looking at it was a part of the job.

Such a sweet little ass. Was all you could think of as you ran oiled up fingers up his thigh and onto the tight muscle.

Frankie took deeper breaths now. Doing everything in his power not to clench at your touch.

For a moment he felt a relief as you now focused on his butt cheek and dug your fingers deeper into the painful spot, but then you added oil onto your hands. And then you began sliding down his hip in a smooth inward motion. Tips of your fingers brushing so closely to his inner thigh. Again. And again. And again. Blood rushed towards his cock with every swipe. So close, your hand was so fucking close.

Shit. SHIT. No no no…shit please not now. He knew this could happen, at some point it was bound to happen, but this was really fucking bad timing.

He was gone now, no force in nature could stop the tightening in his abdomen and the painful hardness of his cock, which was now pressed fully into the mattress.

It twitched with every swipe of your hands, as the tension in his lower stomach grew, as he attempted to fight the consuming urge to rut his erection against the bed and find some relief. Waves of shame and arousal crashed into him one after the other, as his mind desperately scrambled for a way to explain or excuse himself.

You progressed down Frankie’s leg, and you felt him tense up, his breaths shorter and quicker. You could say you were oblivious to the situation, but something inside you knew, or at least suspected, that he might be having that kind of a reaction. Because something inside you knew that your touch was too purposeful to begin with. You couldn’t say which little demon encouraged your fingers to softly brush against the most sensitive parts they could reach, but the mere thought of him growing harder from your touch made you feral.

What felt like history’s longest fucking foreplay, had you both on the very last edge.

“Turn around please” You used the calmest tone you could pull from your mouth.

Too distracted by the dirtiest thoughts on one hand, and the attempts to calm himself down on the other, Frankie was startled by your request.

FUCK.

“ummm…I…ummmm…” He did not know how to approach this.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, noticing his apprehension.

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just..umm..fuck” Frankie leaned on his forearms and gave you the most apologetic look, before glancing downwards, pointing to the source of the issue as discreetly as possible.

“Oh..” the message sank in as you gave him an understanding nod.

“Yeah… I’m sorry” That’s it, she’s gonna kick me out, fuck.

“Frankie, it’s ok, really, it’s totally fine, it’s natural, nothing to apologize for” You attempted to reassure him.

“I just, I really don’t want you to think that I’m a creep. You’re just so good..your hands are so amazing..I really didn’t mean for this to happen, do you…do you want me to go? I can go..” He rambled as his face turned bright red.

“I don’t want you to go, and I don’t think you're a creep Frankie. Quite the opposite. I thought that was obvious” Guess we are doing this now. Oh well.

“Really…What’s the opposite of creep?” He smirked, amused all of a sudden.

“Well…tall, sexy, and a little smug, apparently.” Your heart pounded in your throat as you smirked right back at him.

He chuckled, too pleased with your response to have a quick comeback.

“Turn around Frankie.” Your voice was calmer, more commanding now. “Ok” Frankie swallowed thickly and turned to lay on his back, still leaning on his forearms. The sheet covering him pulled to the side, revealing the unmistakable tent in his boxers.

You tore your eyes away after only a split second, but it was just enough time to see it. Well happy birthday and Merry Christmas to me. The sheer size of him was blatantly visible even through the thin dark material.

Looking in his eyes was far more challenging, you moved closer to him as he pulled himself up to sit on the bed and face you. You felt your blood drain from your face, pulled towards your stomach, laced with equal parts anxiety and arousal.

You stood closer now, almost between his legs, and you laid a careful hand on his chest.

“Do you..do you want to stop?” you asked, averting your eyes from his.

“Fuck no.” he responded, smiling softly “Thought that was obvious”

You smiled back, lifting your eyes at him, meeting his warm gaze.

Keeping his eyes on you, he took both of your hands in his, laying soft gentle kisses on your palms, brushing your fingers against his lips, reverently worshiping the hands that brought him so much pleasure and relief. You could not look away now, as he laid a tender kiss on each knuckle. It was the hottest, most sensual thing you have ever witnessed. His kisses flowed gently up your arm, pulling you closer towards him, until your faces were inches apart. You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, as he cradled your face in his large palm.

"C'mere" he whispered, leaning in and finally pressing his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, warm, pliant and sweet. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, swiping his warm tongue into your mouth. His kiss was deep but unhurried, allowing him to taste you properly. Frankie saw no need to rush this, he wanted to enjoy every second and every inch of your body.

You carded your fingers through the soft waves on the nape of his neck and pulled even closer, flushed against his bare chest.

His arms brushed your sides, fingers reaching under the soft fabric of your tee, hot against your skin, asking for permission. You nodded, not breaking the kiss, as he slowly rolled it up and pulled it off.

Large arms engulfed you fully, pressing you against him, running along your back, to the swell of your ass, and back up towards your neck, like he could not touch you enough.

Frankie pulled the bra straps off your shoulders one by one, relishing the opportunity to undress you slowly, leisurely. He unclasped the back with one deft hand.

“Impressive” you teased

“Beginners luck” he chuckled back, resuming the open mouthed kisses on your neck, cupping your right breast in his hand, enjoying the softness, the weight of it.

When you climbed on the bed, he laid you on your back. You weren't used to this position, could not remember an instance when you were the one laying down.

“Are we really…doing this? I mean, is this ok with you?” Laying on top of you might have not been the best timing for the question, but he needed to make sure.

“Eh…it’s an occupational hazard” You shrugged, before bursting into a giggle.

"What is?" His brows furrowed for a moment, and he looked too adorable not to kiss.

"That thing you've got there…" you cocked your brows, lowering your gaze.

"I'll take that as a compliment" he chuckled. He'd take his cock over a six pack any day.

"You should"

"I will"

"Good"

“Yes, Frankie, this is very ok with me” you said softly, tucking loose waves away from his forehead before pulling his mouth back to yours.

Frankies lips traveled down, he took one pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around , a perfect mixture of hot and cold, soft and hard.

"This is so fucking ok with me” you mumbled, grinding your clothed pussy on his thigh. You could feel him painfully hard, pressed against you, as you cupped him through his boxers. It felt even bigger than before, and the thought of him opening you up and stretching you out sent a sweet wave of anticipation straight to your core.

"I wanna take care of you, please?" He asked softly.

"Please", you said, practically begging him to touch you.

"Can I…use the oil?" he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your side, pressing soft kisses to your neck and down the slope of your shoulder.

"Sure…it's almond oil” you nodded, pleased beyond belief that this man took all of 5 minutes to figure you out.

It was so intimate, perhaps too intimate, but you trusted Frankie, something about him put you at ease. You knew his body and now it seemed fitting for him to get to know yours in the same way.

He lifted himself up, caging your legs between his knees and gently pulled on the elastic of your pants, as you lifted your pelvis to allow him to slide them down your legs. He reached for the oil on the stand next to the bed. The hot liquid pooled in his hands and he rubbed them together. He laid his large warm palms on your thighs, sliding them downwards, rubbing the soft flesh and spreading the oil, then moving back upwards from your knees to your hips. Frankie was mesmerized by the glow of the slick on your skin. He repeated the motion, more confident now, earning himself a sweet purr from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” he asked hesitantly, requiring a little more encouragement.

“mhm…Yes…” You answered, breathless.

His hands slid back up, tips of his fingers reaching under the hem of your panties, as you flooded with arousal and anticipation. He repeated the motion again, this time brushing his thumbs closer to your inner thighs. A soft little moan left your lips, making him smirk. He continued sliding his hands down and back up, getting closer and closer to your core. Your thighs clenched together and hips bucked slightly, begging for his touch where you needed him most. But Frankie was enjoying himself far too much, at last he was the one doing the teasing and you were the one writhing at his touch.

He ran a careful thumb on your clothed pussy, testing the waters. He kept his eyes on your face, making sure you were comfortable. The slacked jaw, heavy panting and white knuckles from grabbing at the sheet beneath you told him everything he needed to know.

He kept circling your clit above your panties, watching them get progressively more and more soaked. “This is where you want me?..hmmm?” he teased while his fingers ran along your slit, making you impossibly wetter and needier.

“Fuck, Frankie!” you whined.

He chuckled at your impatience.

His hands ran up your inner thighs again, taunting you with every inch of progress towards your throbbing cunt, he brushed the tips of his fingers under the band of your panties “Can I take these off?”

You lifted your hips and allowed him to slide the soaked fabric down your legs.

You laid exposed before him. "Fuck your'e beautiful" he whispered.

He added more oil, before sliding his palms from your breasts, down your belly and onto your thighs again. His hands traveled back up, unable to stop himself from relishing in the addictively soft texture of your body at his fingertips. He spread the oil further, circling your nipples, then brushing along your ribs, down the dip of your belly button, and back up to your clavicles. He marveled at your smooth skin, shiny and golden under the dim lights.

"Spread your legs for me baby” he rasped, you obliged immediately

“Good girl"

With the gentlest touch, he ran two thumbs on the sensitive lips of your cunt, spreading your glistening folds. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

He oiled his hands again, letting it drip from the tips of his fingers onto your pussy. You shuddered at the sensation of each drop. He gently spread the oil between your folds, mixing it with your arousal. His index prodded your entrance before sliding inside, slowly pumping in and out of your tight wet heat.

Mesmerized, Frankie lowered himself to lay between your legs, and licked a thick stripe up your slit. "Pretty pretty pussy" he murmured, circling your clit with his tongue, then dipping it into your hole, drinking you up.

You couldn't tell exactly what Frankie was doing, but the limited amount of times men have gone down on you, it never felt like this, not even close. Arousal and heat bloomed between your thighs, spreading along your belly, crawling up your limbs and down the tips of your toes. He seemed to be speaking directly to your core, whispering soft nothings, making the filthiest promises and coaxing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your hands laced into his hair, fingers gently tugging at the roots while he ate you out like you were his last meal. There was a generosity to his movements, like he could happily spend a day between your legs. Your hips bucked at him, asking for more. "You need another finger baby? To get you ready to take my cock?" All you could do is moan louder. The filth this man spoke so freely drove you insane.

Frankie added his middle finger, sliding it in with ease as you were dripping on his knuckles. The coil in your belly tightened, with each swipe of his tongue on your clit, Frankie could feel you drawing close. He purred, alternating between licking and sucking gently at the perfect spot just under your clit, pushing you over the edge of a cliff into a pool of pleasure. Your body convulsed as you squeezed him tightly between your thighs, he could feel the flutter of your walls on his fingers, and the wave of slick that poured out of you into his awaiting mouth. "Yes baby, yes, give it to me, taste so fucking good" he muttred, drinking everything you could give him.

After you came down from your high Frankie kissed his way up to your lips, the lust drunk look in your eyes told him what you could not.

“Wow” when you finally spoke, that was all you could manage.

“Are you ok? Do you wanna stop?” He asked, softly brushing away loose strands that stuck to your forehead.

You tsked, shaking your head slowly, and proceeded to whisper in his ear “I want you to fuck me Frankie" peppering kisses on his earlobe and behind his ear. Goosebumps erupted across his skin and ran down his back. His cock twitched at the sensation.

“Fuck baby, your’e gonna kill me”

"Since you've already killed me, it only seems fair"

"Well, how can I argue with a pretty girl asking to be fucked so sweetly?

"You better don't"

"Wouldn't dream of it"

You pulled him closer again, kissing him lazily through your post orgasm haze, sneaking a curious finger through the hemline of his boxers. Frankie's breath hitched as he felt you swipe his sensitive tip, leaking with precum and screaming for relief. You tugged on the band, encouraging him to take the fabric off.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Heavy and thick and perfectly veiny. It was your turn to reach for the oil, bringing your loaded palm to his throbbing length. You stroked lazily at first, as Frankie mumbled curses and prayers, not taking his eyes off your hand wrapped around him, spreading the warm oil all over his shaft, gently running your thumb on the tip. The smooth delicious glide of your oiled hand felt better than he could imagine, drawing him impossibly closer to his release with every stroke.

"Fuck..as much as I thought about this, if you dont stop, I'm gonna cum"

"Really? You thought about this..?"

"Mhm…I also thought about other things"

"Such as?" You asked teasingly, pulling him to lay in between your legs.

"Such as this.." he rasped, notching himself at your entrance.

You canted your hips at the sensation. He sank into your heat with a groan, slowly pushing himself to the hilt. The delicious stretch made your walls flutter. "shit Frankie, move, please" you begged, whimpering with need.

Your legs locked on his back as he began to slowly buck his hips, gently opening you up on his girth. For all his mass and strength he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed the column of your neck, nibbling at your chin, before your mouths latched onto each other, breathing each other's air. Frankie’s pace picked up slightly. “Uh…uh…fuck!” you moaned with each thrust, the coil in your belly tightening. You could hear the obscene squelch of your slick each time he pounded into you. Frankie lifted himself up slightly, eyes entranced and black with lust as he watched his glistening cock slide in between your puffy folds, spurring him to go harder and deeper still.

He hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you up with surprising ease. You straddled his hips, leaning back on one arm to balance yourself, gripping into his shoulder with the other.

He began fucking into you faster, and your hips moved to meet his with every stroke, the angle making his length hit impossibly deep within you. Your bodies moved in sync, shiny with sweat and oil. "Good girl, use my cock, take what you need" He muttered as he felt you approaching your release. You climbed higher and higher, your cunt gripping onto his cock like a vice, until one final stroke pushed you off, made you soar. Pleasure searing through every cell, pouring into every crevice, exploding in thousands of tiny bursts.

Frankie felt your release pulsating on his cock, he fucked into you as deep as he could, gripping your hips with bruising strength, roaring as he flooded your core with ropes of his hot spend.

Frankie collapsed on top of you with a groan, chest heaving, mind blown. Both of you too fucked out and spent to speak, breathing heavily in a synchronized pace.

He nuzzled into your cheek, kissing across your face, until he reached your nose and placed a peck on the tip, before reaching your lips again.

You exchanged lazy kisses, nibbling and licking into each other’s mouths, slowly coming down from your respective highs.

“Holy fuck” you rasped

“Yeah, holy fuck indeed” Frankie replied with a coarse voice.

“No, I mean, holy fuck this bed is sturdy. I never tested it like that before” You teased. “Also, you blew my brains out, can I make you some tea as a show of my appreciation?”

“Only if you give me one of your sex mugs to drink it from” Frankie chuckled back.

“Sure, I’ll even throw in some cookies to sweeten the deal”

*******

You stood in the kitchen, the dim glow of the pendant light above the counter illuminating your bodies, nude and barefoot, still emanating heat from your previous activities. Frankie snuck an arm around your waist as you poured the boiling water into the mug.

It felt strangely familiar, his warmth engulfing your senses, you could get used to this.

You welcomed the gesture, brushing away the notion that it felt too intimate, too good to be true. You’d never let him know, with your quick wit and your casual demeanor, how nervous you truly were, because this was something special.

Just enjoy it, this, him.

As if he sensed your post-coital nervousness, Frankie asked sheepishly. “So..I've been meaning to ask you, before the…um…crazy sex. Can I maybe take you out to dinner?”

“I’ll think about it” You chuckled with relief, setting the freshly made cup of tea in front of him.

Frankie looked at it slightly confused, it had a picture of an Excel spreadsheet with the green logo on it. After a few seconds he began to laugh, “Freak in the sheets” was written in black across the bottom.

“I’ll take it as a compliment” he smiled at you, that sweet soft smile with the creases around his eyes and the dimple you could not resist.

“You should” you giggled back.

“I will”

“Good”

FIN.

Thank you so much, I also tagged anyone who reblogged part#2, hope it’s ok with you. You will not be automatically tagged in future fics unless you ask me to.

@romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @astroboots @welcometostayingawake @damnyoupedro @kirsteng42 @boysddontcry @miraclesabound @jump-over-my-fence @wildemaven

#massage #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales/reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #smut fic

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mylittleredgirl · 6 months

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20 questions for fic writers

thanks @annerbhp for the tag! i really enjoyed reading her answers too!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

215

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

646,705 (average of 3k per fic, which sounds about right)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

stargate atlantis most often, followed by sg-1, various star treks, and the x-files (with other miscellaneous fandoms on demand for exchanges and gifts).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

No Sooner Met (voyager, janeway/chakotay)

Career Day (sg-1, mini!otp)

Next Chapter (the good place, chidi/eleanor)

First Date (voyager, janeway/chakotay) editor's note: man my title game was weak in my voyager era

Occupational Hazards (the good place, chidi/eleanor)

it's so funny to spend my online time in small or inactive fandoms and look at statistics because i'm like yeah... i'm kind of a big deal... people know me... i have many leather-bound volumes... and not a single one of my fics crack 300 kudos (& very few over 100). the person i reblogged from topped out over 9,000! what's it like to write long fics for popular fandoms? is it cool?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do now! and it's awesome! for a long time i was intimidated by praise and had a hard time responding, but my brain works now and i really enjoy exchanging comments that turn into long threads of headcanon back-and-forth and sometimes new friends.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh god PLEASE let me unburden my soul about Twilight (sga, john/elizabeth). it's so uncharacteristically hopeless for me -- far future fic, complicated family dynamics, elizabeth has dementia and john is estranged from their son... really no one is having a good time. i think it's interesting and a cool departure from my usual writing style, but it's also a big sad mess.

i still feel sooooo guilty about these two thousand words of misery that i REGULARLY think about writing a sequel where john and his son fix it with time travel and mend fences. like i lie awake at night worrying about these characters because one time in 2007 i didn't give them a happy ending and suggested john might not break the bad father generational cycle. normal fic writer behavior.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Weaving Loose Ends (sg-1, sam/jack)! i love happy and hopeful endings but i think of all of them, this one is the most resolved and least complicated.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

nope. oh!!!! there was the one time when i caused Big Drama in a corner of the Dancing With The Stars fandom by turning people's headcanons into rpf, which everyone liked until one included porn. people got so heated with each other over this one smut fic (doxing! splinter factions! a fandom schism!) but somehow no one was ever actually mean to me. i didn't even get blocked or banned for my rpf transgressions, i was just standing there at the eye of the storm. so... i guess the answer is still no??

9. Do you write smut?

yes! i should probably write more, though. it has been all slow and gauzy the past few years, somebody should really get railed pretty soon.

10. Do you write crossovers?

nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so. happily toiling in obscurity.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

back in the x-files days i think someone translated some of my doggett/reyes fics for a spanish archive, so those might still be out there.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no i haven't!! i am really not doing well collecting my fic writer girl scout badges here!!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

john sheppard/elizabeth weir my beloved.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

i have 10k of an sg-1 episode-by-episode soulmate fic that started really strong and i would love to share someday, but i lack staying power so it will surely just go to seed in my dropbox forever!!

16. What are your writing strengths?

hopefully character complexity and dialogue. dialogue is interesting in fanfic, because the dialogue on many TV shows is really different than how real humans speak (it's scripted to be clearer, more concise and direct, uninterrupted, etc), so it's a fun challenge to balance that and get something that sounds both in-character and realistic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

long fics!

the big related weakness is that i find it incredibly difficult to keep writing on a fic after i show it to anyone (as a sneak peek, or because i want feedback / encouragement / brainstorming help). i lose steam on my own, but posting or inviting other people into the process is like pouring sugar in the gas tank. why is that!! how do i fix this!!!

and i don't know if this is a "writing weakness" or an "egregious personal character flaw" but i sure did finish an exchange fic this year literally forty seconds before reveals, so that's... pretty bad.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

SO SCARY aughhhh my fear of Being Wrong really nukes me here. it doesn't even have to be a real language. it's like the ghost of JRR Tolkein himself is standing over my shoulder telling me that if i don't backwards engineer an entire proto-latinate space language instead of just chucking words into google translate and calling it Ancient i'm committing unpardonable sins.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

star trek! first internet-published fics were x-files, but first limited-print-edition fics were xeroxed hand-bound voyager stories my sister and i would give as "gifts" to family friends (and then stand there staring at them while they read the first few pages and told us how clever and creative we were and promised to "read the rest later").

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

new answer! i have always answered this before with ain't no sunshine (sga, john/elizabeth) or career day (sg-1, mini!otp), but i think i really stuck the landing this year on pieces (sga, john/elizabeth). which, incidentally, is the one i finished forty seconds before reveals so i'm definitely not going to learn anything from that narrow escape.

tagging @ussjellyfish if you haven't already done this one, @coraclavia, @havocthecat, @lonesomehighways, and anyone else who made it through this long post and would like to do it!

#fic writer asks #mai fic #long post #love that we're not waiting for asks and are just dropping the entire ask game worth of answers on everyone #read my navel-gazing thoughts boy

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thirteen-cats-in-a-trenchcoat · 5 months

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This random au I can't stop thinking about is where John, Ian and Yassen come back to life, and they have to live with Alex and Jack (we're gonna ignore the lack of rooms in the house to fit so many people). It'd be so chaotic and tom would come often cuz yeah, and everyone would make sure Blunt goes on a one-way trip to hell, and alex would adapt to this new normal and yeah I guess?

I can imagine the interactions between everyone, like, Yassen would come to the understanding that at the end of the day, John was only human, and didn't have all the answers. But John might not be able to forgive himself for what he though he 'caused', and takes longer to get that it's not his fault yassen became a contract killer, at least not wholly.

Yassen would at one point, share his journal with everyone, when he feels completely safe. He would also escape Scorpia. People may know he's alive, including Mi6, but they also know he's too good to be caught, or they think he's dead.

Alex would be a happy with his escape from Mi6. Ian would quit. John would see his son grow up to be a good man.

Yassen sorta saw alex as John when he was rescuing him from Sayle, but at some point, that morphed into him seeing alex as Yasha. Yassen protecting alex would almost be like closure to him, like getting peace, knowing his past self would be proud. Proud that he's not Cossack anymore.

Ian and Yassen reconsile, after all, they both care about alex, and understand death is an occupational hazard.

Jack is helping everyone through like, everything, and also becomes a lawyer, in England.

This is basically a fix-it au, but the thing is, this will never come to be.

Because there are no time machines

Because actions (the ones taken *and* the ones not taken) have consequences

Because really, John got blown up by his best friend

Ian got shot in the head while trying to go back to his nephew

Yassen got betrayed by everyone, and fell into a downward spiral since 14, and died in his 30s,though he wasnt truly living for over a decade

Jack got blown up, trying to get free, and she was never meant to be part of any espionage in the first place, she just wanted alex to be happy and safe.

And alex is always left behind, and he's on borrowed time, and it's running out, while every single good thing was snatched from him in one brutal year.

#why did i make this #Why is it so sad at the end #alex rider #yassen gregorovich

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shyvioletcat · 1 year

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A/N: I don’t think you’ll like me much after this one. I’m also dealing with a sinus infection so editing might not be the greatest near the end.

~ All This Time Masterlist ~

~~~~~

A bright morning greeted Rowan as he exited through the hospital’s main entrance. He’d spent another night shift commanding the pit of the ER. For another two weeks he had pulled every shift he legally could to make sure he was in there. If Rowan wasn’t he left instructions to be contacted if anyone meeting Aelin’s description came in. It was probably on the unethical side, might even come off a bit stalkerish, but Rowan had to know. He needed one more chance.

Since the minute that Aelin had left the hospital he had gone over every detail he had witnessed since she was admitted. There were so many things that set off alarm bells and he had done nothing. He had just watched her walk out, possibly into more danger.

Aelin had been hurt and told him and the other staff that she had fallen. Occupational hazard she’d stated. As if that didn’t sound suspicious. Then there had been the man with her, with the way he had treated and acted around Aelin made Rowan’s skin crawl. Rowan had seen his fair amount of deadbeats and assholes walk through his ER, and Arobynn definitely fit into those categories. Then there was the question of who the father of Aelin’s child was. Was it Arobynn? He certainly seemed possessive enough and why else would he be there acting like that? The man looked old enough to be her father. Arobynn obviously wasn’t her father, Rowan knew Aelin’s father, he was good and kind and his world had revolved around his daughter. Which just led to the question of what her parents knew about her current circumstances.

Did they even know where she was?

There were all these questions and no answers, it nearly made him sick with worry. Rowan told himself not to worry, but that went against his nature. Going into a medical profession wasn’t about the money or prestige—he wanted to help people when they were in trouble, medical or otherwise. The nature of his job allowed him access to programs and organisations who could help those who needed it. And Aelin was in trouble, there was no doubt about it. Rowan just didn’t know the extent or cause, or how he was supposed to help her. He was compelled to do it, regardless of the more complicated feelings related to the woman who was perpetually vanishing from his life. Which was why he found himself reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone and dialling a number he didn’t use as often as he should. Rowan wasn’t proud of himself for being that friend who only called when he needed something, but he was running out of options in these circumstances.

“Are you aware of what time it is, Doctor Whitethorn?” Fenrys’ voice was groggy and irritated.

“Sorry I just got off work,” Rowan said.

“Weird time to be asking for a drink,” Fenrys yawned through his reply, because that’s what Rowan usually asked for when he called. It was a lame opener.

“I was hoping for coffee, not liquor.”

Still apparently drowsy, Fenrys yawned again. “I just got off a week's worth of night shifts and this is my day off to sleep.”

“I would call unless—“

“Unless you needed something, yeah, yeah.” There was a groan as the man on the other end of the phone finally sat up. “What time and where.”

~~~~~

About half an hour after making the phone call Rowan was sitting at a little cafe not too far from the hospital, coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. It would have been politer to wait, but coming off a night shift himself Rowan was too hungry and too impatient to wait for his friend. Getting a forkful of grilled mushrooms, bacon and scrambled eggs, he checked his phone for any messages. There were none.

Fenrys wandered in a moment later, looking remarkably put together. His dark eyes were bright as they scanned the seating with his curly blonde hair tied in a messy bun. How he got that hair style past the mandates of the police force, Rowan didn’t know. Although Fenrys could charm his way through whatever life presented him with.

Rowan was about to throw up an awkward wave when his friend spotted him. He weaved through the tables with a wry smile that stayed on his face until he sat down. Irreverent as always, he picked up the fork Rowan had momentarily set down and speared himself a good chunk of egg.

“If you’re going to keep me from sleeping you could at least buy me breakfast,” he said through his mouthful.

“Order what you want, I’ll pay,” Rowan replied, snatching his fork back. He looked at it for a second and then dropped it on the table. “And bring me another fork. That’s how people get sick.”

Fenrys face disappeared behind a menu. “You and your fancy doctor salary.”

Rowan sipped his drink while Fenrys decided on what to eat and then went to the counter to order. He set down a wooden block with a bright red number 12 on it and looked at Rowan expectantly as he passed him a clean fork.

“Well?”

Rowan had had enough time to plan out his words, so he just came out with it. “If I needed—wanted—to find someone, could you help me?”

Surprise and then confusion played out across Fenrys’ face. “Are they a missing person?”

“No,” Rowan said then he reconsidered. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”

If she was using a false name, there was every possibility that Aelin was missing. And then there was the question of to what extent did Celeana exist. How far did that identity go?

“If they’re not a missing person may I ask why you want to find them?” Fenrys asked.

“It’s complicated,” Rowan said. That was putting it lightly. “I just…”

The wait staff arrived with Fenrys’ breakfast burger. He looked delighted and gave an extra charming smile to the woman who had brought his food. She blushed a deep pink and stumbled over a chair that hadn’t been tucked in properly, just deepening the embarrassment. It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, Fenrys was a handsome man and shameless flirt.

“You were saying?” Fenrys asked before he took a bite of his breakfast burger.

“This person… I think they’re in trouble,” Rowan admitted.

His friend across the table was immediately concerned and lowered his breakfast. “What kind of trouble?”

Rowan let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t exactly know. Could be domestic violence, could be some other kind of bad situation. I have almost nothing to go on except a gut feeling that something isn’t right.”

“Given your track record, I’d trust your gut,” Fenrys said, then he paused for a moment. “Look, I can try. Just give me a name, whatever you have. I can look through reports and see what I can find.”

Rowan went to give over both of the names he had, but then he remembers the fear on Aelin’s face, the way she pleaded with him not to say a word about the baby. What if uncovering who she was put Aelin and her child in more danger.

“You know what, nevermind,” Rowan said.

Fenrys looked sceptical but he let it drop. “If you change your mind, let me know. You’ve got me all concerned now.”

Like Rowan, Fenrys had gone into policing so that he could help people. When they had started pursuing their different professions they had drifted. Just a natural thing that happened when people physically drifted apart. That had never stopped Fenrys being there when any of his friends needed him, Rowan included. That was all proved by the way he’d turned up to breakfast this morning, ready and willing to help with so little information.

Rowan picked up his fork and went back to her breakfast. “If I change my mind I’ll let you know,”

~~~~~

Three days later and Rowan was still stewing over Fenrys’ offer. Not for the first, nor the last, time he told himself he needed to put Aelin behind him and just move on with life. He’d managed that once already, he could do it again. To help matters he’d given himself a break from the ER, instead opting in to do some scheduled surgeries. As was the nature of hospitals, tonight Rowan soon found himself in a non-scheduled surgery of a young woman with a burst appendix. It had finished much later than expected. Tired and worn out, he didn’t really see the point in driving home so he decided to get some fresh air before finding an oncall room to crash in.

It was just past midnight and the world was quiet, the air cool as stars shone in the cloudless sky. Moments like this always helped ground Rowan after the intense adrenaline of surgery. It made sleeping a whole lot easier too. Just a few long moments to decompress on his own help his brain shift gears.

Then a feminine voice broke into his solitude. “Hey.”

“Hey, Lyria,” Rowan said, turning to see her walking towards him in her scrubs. Unlike him she was still covering the night shifts in the ER.

“I went to find you to see how the surgery went and thought I might find you out here when I couldn’t find you in there,” she threw her thumb over her shoulder.

Lyria had been the one to admit the patient with the burst appendix. It was commendable that she was so concerned with the patients welfare.

“It all went well,” Rowan told her

Lyria nodded along. “That’s good.”

A slightly awkward silence started up between them that Rowan was eager to break. “How’s the ER?”

Rowan knew exactly why he was asking. So did Lyria, if the lingering look she gave him was anything to go by.

“Quiet,” she said. “A burst appendix was the biggest excitement.”

He nodded, suddenly feeling so very tired.

“I’m going to find an unoccupied bed to sleep in,” Rowan explained, but it seemed that Lyria wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

“Rowan, wait. There’s something, I—ah, wanted to ask you.”

Nervousness was written all over Lyria’s face and Rowan knew what was coming. He’d expected it for a while.

“I thought maybe we could get lunch sometime, or even dinner?” She rambled off. “Or both, maybe both?”

A pretty blush appeared on her cheeks and she smiled shyly. Lyria was a confident doctor and could deal with even the most stubborn and wilful of patients. It seems her pitfall was asking a man out on a date. Rowan’s immediate response was to refuse her, to politely decline and cite maintaining their professional relationship as the reason. But then why shouldn’t he? Maybe this would help him. Another step in moving on in the right direction.

“You know what? Don’t worry,” Lyria floundered, accepting his silence as a refusal and backing away.

“Hey, wait,” Rowan said, his hand touching her forearm to stop her. “Yeah, why don’t we—“

The sound of a car aggressively approaching stopped Rowan in his tracks. It was initially hard to spot, the dark colour blending into the night, the tyres of the sleek sedan screeching and breaking the stillness of the night entirely. Rowan and Lyria had been standing near the public access to the ER and the car pulled to a stop right in front of them. A man got out of the car, his features frantic in the hazy exterior lights.

“I need help,” he said.

“Sir, are you injured?” Rowan said, snapping into action.

“No, it’s not me,” the man said, running around the front of his car.

Rowan shot a look at Lyria before they both followed, jogging over the car. While they were on their way the man dipped out of sight near the passenger door, supposedly attending to the person who was in need of help.

“She needs help,” the driver said, voice strained as he stood with a woman in his arms.

Rowan stopped, his heart faltering in his chest. The stranger stepped onto the curb, the street light illuminating who he carried.

“Down, get her down,” Rowan demanded, watching as Aelin was lowered to the ground.

He needed to assess her injustices and he was by her side a moment later. The man who had brought her lowered her down and stepped back. Rowan swooped in, checking her pulse and turning her face into the light. His stomach dropped as Aelin’s profile came into relief under the light. Immediately the cut on her cheek and forehead easily identified, and what he suspected to be bruising and other scrapes. Her pulse was strong but her breathing was a little ragged, so Rowan continued his assessment down her body.

What took him aback was what she was wearing. A diamond bedazzled corset top, and shorts that short enough to be classed as underwear. Those questions he’d successfully been ignoring for the passed few days surged to the surface again.

“Sir, can you tell me—“ Rowan wasn’t going to get his answers because in the distraction of seeing to Aelin the man who had driven her in had left.

“Shit,” Rowan said, his hands hovering as his brain took a second to catch up. “Get inside, get a gurney.”

The orders were barked at Lyria, but under these circumstances she was used to it. She was on her feet and ready to run. Just then Aelin groaned, the arm she had injured hovering over her stomach.

“And page Salvaterre in OB!”

Lyria was running, he could hear her footsteps on the concrete. That left Rowan and Aelin alone in the night that had returned to its quiet state, but it brought none of the solace it had before. Without knowing the extent of Aelin’s injuries Rowan didn’t want to risk hurting her further, so all he could do was keep his fingers on her pulse. Waiting for moments that seemed to stretch on forever.

Aelin gasped, her hand gripping onto the sleeve of his doctor’s coat.

“Hey, hey,” Rowan said, his voice calmer than the turmoil inside him. “Aelin, can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, landing on him and then she smiled. It was full of pain and fell away almost instantly. “Rowan? You’re here.”

Rowan nodded, even though her eyes were already closed and covered the hand that still held him with his own. “Yes, Aelin. And I’ll keep you safe.”

He meant what he’d said. Now that Aelin was in his care he would keep her safe, Rowan would tend to her injuries the best he could. And he’d damned if he let her out of her sight again.

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807

#rowaelin fanfiction

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 11 months

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Somewhere Beyond the Ashes

TW: Blood, injury, attempts at murder, heart break mention, knives, gun, death threats, torture mentions (very discreet and no graphic description), violence

Yeah, I didn't die. Had a math test, which is close enough anyway. Word count: 1.7 k

“Are you alright?”

The words, like everything else Villain said, seemed to be the very representation of what if velvet was a sound; impossibly smooth and rich, like they were practised time and time again.

They very much were, and Hero knew that much.

Hero had known from the first day he’d stared into those entrancing blue eyes, when his gaze had fallen onto the picture-perfect smile that played across the criminal’s lips. No wonder her civilian identity was that of a movie star, she really did look the part.

But the villain had managed to make him forget it, discard it like another stray, meaningless thought. Like it had never been. She’d seduced the hero so fast, it was beyond humiliating, the shame weighing down on his shoulders like a cinder block.

He hadn’t even realised when it happened, when everything had started slipping through his fingers, he’d only seemed to have woken up from his rose-coloured stupor when it was too late, when he’d completely lost control.

The agency hadn’t prepared him for this. Hero had been taught to handle pain like it was second nature to him, to not crumble under the most gruelling psychological manipulation, to remain unbreakable, stiffer than solid rock as he persevered through the inhumane horrors he was subjected to. Occupational hazards. But even through all this, they hadn’t prepared him for the villain’s gentle concern, for her soft spoken nature, for the heavenly feeling of her fingers carding through his hair or for how pet names felt like honey dripping off her tongue.

They didn’t prepare him for receiving every indulgence he was deprived of his whole life, his cruellest punishment yet.

He’d become immune to the dark seduction that would come from a villain who chose to wear the “charming” mask. To words of affection and purred compliments with ulterior motives. But not to gentle care, not to something so torturously close to being genuine that it drove the crime-stopper insane how intricate the villain’s fabrication of it was. A wonderful actress indeed.

“You lied to me,” the hero stated, turning the full intensity of his gaze onto his nemesis.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate?” the villain deadpanned, staring at her perfectly manicured nails. She was wearing the hero’s shirt, and although it hung loosely off her frame, and she was sporting her morning hair, she still looked impossibly perfect.

“I’d hate to spoil your fun, but it’s empty,” Villain said smoothly as the hero reached for the gun in his waistband, hidden by his clothes.

He checked, “firing” at the clock on the wall. Safety off and everything. The villain hadn’t been joking.

“Don’t bother yourself with looking for these either, love.” She twirled the crime-fighter’s twin throwing knives elegantly, one in each hand.

Hero wanted to slap himself for the soft gasp he let out, met with a wolfish grin dancing across the criminal’s features.

“W-why didn’t you just kill me from the start?” he breathed out. His life may have been at stake, but he would lose whatever pathetic fragments that remained of his decaying sanity if he didn’t know.

“I like to play with my food before I eat it. Like to twist the knife before I push it all the way in. Guilty pleasure,” she continued evenly, as though they were conversing about something as trivial as coffee orders. She sauntered towards him like she had all the time in the world, a lazy smile on her face.

The hero tried to run, but the villain knew exactly where he was headed. “The kitchen, where all the knives are. That would be incredibly clever if I didn’t know you like the back of my hand.”

He registered the words, fully understood the weight of them, but he still ran like hell.

And the villain simply appeared again, lounging on the dining table with one leg over the other, spinning one of the crime-stopper’s knives in one hand and clutching her gun, ironically the same, exact model of the hero’s. The bastard had teleportation powers at her disposal. It didn’t matter that the hero, in a fit of hysterical strength, had flipped the table with the villain on it, or that he’d hurled a chair at her with enough force to fracture her skull. She still managed to evade it. Hero swore, the filthiest words he knew, calling his enemy every vulgar moniker he was aware existed.

She showed up right behind him, wrapping her strong arms around him in a delicate embrace, the blade of the knife pressed into his neck, the gun to his stomach.

“You told me you liked it so much when I hugged you from behind. So I thought I’d give you a little parting gift, my love. Any last words?”

A shudder escaped the hero’s treacherous lips as he felt the criminal’s warm breath against his neck. “You’re still lying,” he choked out, grinning like a madman.

“You really keep insisting on being pathetic,” the villain bit out, and it would’ve reached the desired effect if her voice hadn’t trembled ever so slightly. “You think this is a game?” she hissed, pressing the knife just a little deeper into the crime-fighter’s skin, letting a thin line of crimson snake down his neck, like ink meant to mar a perfect painting, serving only to enhance its beauty.

She could desecrate the hero all she wanted, but nothing she did could ever truly ruin him. The foolish words inked into a poster that hung uselessly in the villain’s room, the whole lie about denying the existence of a never-ending night, of eternal darkness couldn’t be closer to the truth right now. Hero was the living proof, existing to torment and mock the villain. And for that, she wished to destroy him so horrifically that he was rendered less than a shadow of the bright star he once was.

Hero had other ideas. He despised himself for managing to notice how the villain’s sadistic grin hadn’t gone all the way up to her eyes, how even when she was threatening to lay waste to him trapping him in her hold, she’d avoided the bruise near his ribs. He should’ve been seeing red, trying to rip his damningly beautiful nemesis limb from limb. But as his mother had once told him, the mind’s master is desire, you see what you wish to believe. It made him feel all the more pitiable.

“You don’t want to kill me,” the hero said, breaking out of her hold, trying and failing horribly to stop the tears from streaming down his face, to stop his voice from breaking.

“Oh believe me, I do. More than anything. But I’ll make it quick because you cried so pretty for me.” The irony was impossibly cruel as tear tracks marred the villain’s face, as her lip quivered and her breathing hitched. She trained her gun on the hero’s face, expression stone-hard, death grip on her weapon.

Hero just smiled at her, the blood now staining the collar of his white shirt a deep maroon.

“DON’T YOU GET IT?” she screamed, pushing the hero till he was flush against the wall. He could escape very easily, could pry the gun out of her fingers and exact his revenge. But he didn’t.

He didn’t.

“It was a lie at first. I was manipulating you. I tried to kill you so many times. Poison in your coffee. When you were sick, I was going to break that thermometer in your mouth, let the mercury go down your throat. That date at the restaurant, when you came to pick me up with that stupid way you did your tie. I was going to choke you with it when I offered to fix it for you. But I never did. I convinced myself I was playing the long game, stringing you along, so that your pain reached its maximum when I killed you. So that you’d suffer the worst torture imaginable!”

“But?” he asked, searching for something she didn’t know in her eyes.

“I couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take the way you looked at me, how you went out of your way to make me happy. I lived my whole life believing love was a lie. Building up my walls. Not letting the scars of my past heartbreak define me! And you think you can just waltz in here and prove it was all smoke and mirrors?” she seethed, gritting her teeth.

He never answered, just leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss, pulling away and staring deep into her eyes, brilliant emerald green seeing through her soul.

“You bastard!” Her grip tightened on the trigger, but her gaze softened, and she threw the gun down, throwing herself against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I don’t want to ruin you.”

“You don’t even know the full extent of the things I’ve done. Of the choices I had to make. The lesser of two evils is still an evil.”

“The agency?”

He pulled away and tilted her chin up, “Being a puppet is exhausting. I’m only a hero because they called me that. I’m a man, not an angel, but I have enough good left in me to realise some of my work was no more than crimes committed in the name of their twisted idea of the ‘greater good’. So yeah, I guess I won’t stop saving people, but before that, I have a few loose ends to tie. So what do you say?” He wrapped her arms around his neck and slung his around her waist.

“Let’s get those bastards.” She pressed a passionate kiss to his jawline and walked out with her hand intertwined in his.

It only took a month, and the agency had collapsed.

Fire brings destruction, each one trailing after the other like crazed lovers, hell-bent on setting the world ablaze if only just to feel the intensity of each other. But hidden in the wreckage like a diamond in the rough, underneath the soot and debris, is a chance for a new beginning, something akin to how a phoenix rises from the ashes, reborn brighter than before fueled by the flames that set a lover’s heart on fire.

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