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zepskies · 6 months

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Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.”

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care.

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

(Lovelies from my "Everything" tag list. If you want to be tagged on Priestly stuff specifically, check out the Tag List link in my bio.)

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

#Code Red #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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leam1983 · 1 year

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Fat Cat Envy

The shift's ended, and Sarah's still working through the Wizard Game, while Walt and I are shooting the shit and backseat-gaming.

"I just love the boardroom aesthetic, is all," justifies Walt. "I've never been slim, I'm not built for tank tops or open shirts or anything, and I'm not the type of Fat Gay Guy who lets it all hang out, y'know? I need to feel braced, and I need a vest to do that. None of that should suggest that I'm shilling for the Fat Cat aesthetic."

Sarah pauses. "Welp, you kind of are. The difference is, you're self-aware. You're not Patrick Bateman who's expecting all of this to define him as a human, you're trying to assert a sense of identity that's only really expensive if you're hung-up on designer brands. There's a baker's dozen worth of Italian brands that don't come with Milanese pedigree and that don't have the price tag to match."

Walt waffles for a few moments and then rolls his eyes in concession. "Yeah, sure, I guess. I just don't know what's wrong about knowing what the fuck you're supposed to do with gingham and having a couple pinky rings to cycle through."

I watch Sarah as she Avada Kedavra's a big wolf-dog, whose only crime consists of being a wolf-dog in this particular location. As per usual, she does it while poking fun at Ralph Fiennes' delivery of the incantation.

"Stalin wore suits like you, Walt," I tell him. "Malcom X and Martin Luther King wore the shit out of their suits, too. You're not just a guy in a suit selling cars, and you're not a jagoff going for his fourth yacht or his third Mercedes. You knowing male haberdashery like the back of your hand isn't some moral fault of yours, okay? It's a choice you've made and an interest of yours. Some people collect Pokémon cards well into their forties, some people have a little lacquered box with a bunch of select watches like you, and I bet some other people just like you have another little box for their tie clips and pins."

I grip his hand. "Only two persons alive get to call you a Fat Cat as a positive - that's Sarah and me."

He blinks. "So you don't mind the contradiction between my values and how I look?"

I sigh. "Hon, you're a consumerist with a conscience. There's tons of people out there like you, starting with me. We buy shit we don't always need while being aware of their impact, and we otherwise try and make responsible choices. Count yourself lucky you never fell in with PC gaming or car ricing, 'cause then you'd be financing underage labor and exploitation. Christ, Walt, the last tie pin you bought came from a local artisan. You gave money to a local. How is that Blind Fat Cat logic?!"

He follows mine. "And if you bought that Oculus Quest in a few paychecks, you'd be in a moral quandary."

To which I have to agree. "I would, actually. I don't need that VR headset, but having the option to go untethered sounds nicer than my current setup. Maybe I'd get more mileage out of the Quest than my Rift S, which I only bring out with the office's VR PC for showroom car demos."

The big guy seems surprised. "And you're fine with that?"

Sarah pauses her game again. "Sweetie, real life isn't a video game. There's no Good alignment and no Evil alignment. Either you do the best you can and likely die forgotten by everyone, or you're an ass in a few select aspects and get a shot at notoriety or infamy. Please don't go down the Self-Flagellating Penitent route; my last boyfriend had anxiety attacks over which brand of coffee we bought!"

An angel passes, followed by a thoughtful nod. "So you can either be nihilistic about it and join the douchebros spending their way to an early grave, or you can be realistic about it. What then?"

I hug my Sales Adjunct. "Pick your battles, you idiot. Book sales, fantasize about that Burberry coat for next Fall while being aware you'll probably go for a Chinese knockoff at a fraction of the price, dress to the nines all you like - but make a difference where you can.

He's silent for a while and just hugs me back. After a minute or two, Walt sharply exhales.

"I take it back, I'm actually super rich, if it's all a question of perspective."

Sarah sees it coming and gives Walt a smirk and a slow sideways glance.

"I'm super rich because I've got you two," he says, assuming a bit of that Alpha Douche posture he uses it blend in, with his shoulders squared off and his girth allowed to take up space.

Suddenly, reaching the endgame phase doesn't matter all that much to Sarah. We're both in Walt's arms, and he fakes a self-satisfied laugh. "This fat cat's got two kittens to groom," he suggests, adding a deliberately lusty Meow before locking lips with me.

#life post #capitalism #thoughts #bisexuality

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hahahahahangst · 7 months

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Saturday night (Be The Young 44)

TW: [suicidal thoughts, self h*rm, violence] Other tags: [sister fic, canon-level violence, angst] All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will occasionally break canon✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. One night, a fire erupts in her house. All that is left is a letter and a name: John Winchester.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

NOTE: if you’re just starting out reading this, I suggest you READ THIS FIC ON AO3, as I posted this on there in a REVISED, somewhat EXPANDED version, including journal entries and more accurate tags.

BTY MASTERLIST

GENERAL MASTERLIST

Saturday night

You know, I called not because of something important But just so you could give me A valid reason not to pull the trigger But that wouldn't change the fact I’m already dead.

Emily and Dean spent the following weeks only by themselves. Sam had left and they only heard from him once, when he told them he was Lucifer’s vessel.

She had not heard his voice since he had left and even though she was still pretty upset at what had happened, being alone with Dean was starting to not feel right anymore. There had not been any big fights.

Actually, to Emily’s surprise. There had not been any fights at all. She was on edge, walking on eggshells, as if one wrong step could destory the whole card castle they had built.

And even if she had been growing to hate her powers, she started to miss someone to share glimpses of emotions with. She could not help but look back to it.

That’s why when Dean suggested calling him back, she accepted.

They drove to the meeting point. Dean and Sam talked a bit, but Emily stood back, not really knowing what to say. She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her elbow. Later that night, Dean sent her and Sam to buy some beer to stock in the car as well as some food.

“You’ve been quiet.” Said Sam as they walked in the supermarket. “That’s not like you.”

“I really don’t know what to say.” She glared at Sam and then went back to analyzing different cereal brands. “Not that it matters, since you can probably hear half of what I think.”

"Well, how are you doing?”

Emily unexpectedly stopped in front of the condiment aisle and Sam needed a couple of steps to realize. "I've been worse- do you think Dean would appreciate some ranch on his sandwich?”

"Yeah, why not.” Said Sam, quickly taking the ranch bottle and throwing it in the basket. Emily raised her eyebrows at the sudden rush and kept walking. "By the way, I just realized- You and Dean have been doing weirdly fine lately.”

"True. It's nice to finally have someone that sides with me.” She said, distracted by the food on the shelves.

"Emily, I've always been on your side.”

Emily stopped and looked at the floor, avoiding Sam’s gaze. "Well, not always.” Sam also stopped walking. "Look, I understand- You want to start fresh, you want to make it right.” She sighed. “But we can’t pretend nothing happened.” Sam nodded, sad. “It’s good to have you back though.” Emily finally smiled at Sam. “I missed having your weird ass around.”

When they came back in the motel, they found Dean getting ready to leave. “Going somewhere?” Asked Emily, dropping her plastic bag on the table.

“Yes, Castiel found Crowley. Come on, let’s go- We’ll eat on the way. Ellen and Jo are also coming.”

“Oh-Alright, want to drive?” Emily handed the car keys to Dean and then looked at Sam, starting to slowly walk towards the door. Dean took the keys and then Emily pumped her eyebrows up twice to Sam before screaming “I call shotgun!” And starting to sprint towards the Impala.

“Hey, no- that’s my spot!” Sam tried to catch up to her, but she had too much advantage and even if Sam was way taller than her, he could not reach the car before her. Showing him her tongue, she entered the car and sat down next to Dean.

“You guys in a good mood?” Asked Dean, starting the car. Emily shrugged, enjoying her passenger seat privileges and selecting a tape to listen to. “Good,” Continued Dean. “I’m glad you’re not about to punch either of us for once.” Dean smirked. Sam took place in the backseat, uncomfortable for the lack of space. Emily looked at him and chuckled.

“You comfortable behind there, Samantha?” She raised her eyebrows. He showed her the finger.

“So…” Asked Dean a while later. “You and Jo a thing?” He briefly looked over at Emily.

“Not that my sex life is any of your business…” Scoffed Emily. “-but no. We decided it was better not to get involved. You know, given the fact it’s the literal apocalypse.” Dean shrugged and was about to answer, but Sam’s telepathic message covered his words.

Maybe he just wants to make sure he has free range

Emily let out a giggle.

“What?” Asked Dean. “Did you hear what I said?”

Emily looked back at Sam, who briefly looked at her and suggestively raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry, you- you were saying?”

“I said it’s better this way, Jo is family, you know.”

Yeah, that’s the reason Said Sam’s voice in the back of Emily’s head. She started laughing again.

“What?” Repeated Dean. “Oh- I see, you’re doing your miracle girls thing!” He rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about behind my back? Uh?”

“It’s a miracle girls thing.” smirked Emily. “You wouldn’t understand.” Sam kept smiling in the back of the car.

“Very funny.” Dean rolled his eyes again.

They arrived at Bobby’s house and started getting ready. The good mood spreaded to the rest of the group. As Emily saw Jo laugh and smile, almost like the apocalypse was not hanging over them, she almost regretted deciding to not be with her. The second the thought landed in her brain, Sam scowled at her through the room.

“Hey, Castiel and I are going to have a drinking contest, your brother said you go hard, wanna tag in?” Asked Ellen as Emily was folding some clean clothes in her room. She followed her and sat in front of Castiel and a row of shots.

“Alright, Cassie, are you ready to lose?” She asked. Castiel didn’t answer.

Ellen gave the signal and in turn, they all drank their shots. At the end, Emily squeezed her eyes, trying to get rid of the burn the alcohol gave her, and looked up at the angel in front of her. For a second, her eyes blurred and she could have sworn in front of her was Ramiel, but after clearing her vision, it was back to being Castiel. He looked perfectly okay. Emily, however, was already drunk.

“I’m starting to feel something.” The angel said, his eyes tightening as he focused. Emily stood up, admitting defeat, and realized her legs were starting to give up on her.

“Yup, I should not-” She stumbled. “Should not have played this.” Emily mumbled. She walked to the living room, where Jo was having a beer alone. “Nope-” Said Emily, turning around all of a sudden and almost falling to the floor.

“Are you drunk?” Smiled Jo.

“What makes you think that?” Emily leaned on the doorframe.

“Alright-” Jo stood up and walked towards Emily. “Maybe it’s better if you go get some rest, okay?” She started walking her towards the library, where Dean and Sam were.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me, you know?” Said Emily, stumbling through the hall. “I might decide to kiss you.”

Jo smiled. “God, you and Dean really are siblings, aren’t you?” She started walking Emily towards the library. “Can’t resist the temptation for three whole seconds.” As they arrived, Dean and Sam raised their heads from the books they were reading, confused.

“What’s going on?” Asked Sam, worried.

“She got drunk.” Jo raised her eyebrows and helped Emily sit on a couch. “Though I would return her to you before she did something she would regret.” She smiled and left.

It wasn’t long in the mission until the entire good mood was completely destroyed. One moment she was drunk on the couch, laughing at Dean who struck out with Jo, and the following moment she was trying to hold Jo’s interiors together with stationary.

Dean was in the room next to them, trying to contact Bobby. Emily looked at Jo’s eyelids slowly moving up and down. She knew exactly what was going on. She knew she was not going to survive it.

“Jo, I’m sorry, I-” She barely managed to seal the last bandage she had on hand. Her hands were shaking so hard it was difficult for her to hold anything. Jo’s cold hand landed on her wrist.

“It’s okay… you did everything you could.” Emily nodded and tried to keep it together.

Crying was only going to make it worse. “Yeah.” She whispered. She looked at Ellen. “I’ll be right back, okay?” She stood up and walked to Dean. He found him leaning on a wall, only his hand separating his head from the concrete. She touched his shoulder, making him turn. She fought all her tears back. “What did Bobby say?”

“He said it’s a ritual. Lucifer is trying to summon Death.” He stopped for a second, clearly trying to stop himself from saying something. “How’s Jo doing?” He finally asked.

“I did what I can, but-” She cut off, looking behind her brother. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes and heard Dean leave the room.

She heard Sam’s voice in the back of her head. Emily, keep it together. It’s our best shot if we want to survive. She looked behind her. There he was, standing in the doorframe.

I don’t know how long I can keep it together. Sam, she- she’s going to die.

As much as she tried to not think of the full phrase, she could not control where her mind went or what got through to Sam. He didn’t answer, but he did offer her a hug. She fell into his embrace and tried to use the comforting sensation to recollect herself. When Dean called them into the other room, Emily rubbed her eyes and then led the way, trying to convince herself that everything was going to be okay. It became soon apparent that it was not going to.

As Jo explained her suicidal plan, Emily’s vision became blurry as she felt her limbs starting to tingle and go numb at the same time. Soon, as she tried to help out building the bombs, she had to stop, her breath starting to get shorter and heavier.

“Oh come on-” She whispered, pleading to her body not to send a panic attack at that crucial moment. “Not now.” Dean briefly looked back at her, worried.

“Emily, are you-”

“No! Obviously not!” She answered, bitter. Dean put down the tools he was holding and also took those which she was holding.

“Go sit down.”

“No, it’s okay, I just need a moment-” Emily tried to stand back up, but the more weight she put on her legs, the less they held her up. Dean looked at her, increasingly worried.

“No, you need to sit down and pull it together, man, I’m gonna need you to run in less then ten minutes.” Emily rested her hands on her knees to hold herself up and looked at Dean. He pointed at the room where Jo was. “Come on.”

Emily slid on the dirty wall and sat in front of Jo.

“You look terrible.” Said her, having trouble keeping her eyes open, but a faint smile still clearly painted on her face.

“I wish I could say I still look better than you, but-” Emily tried to steady her breath. “...but even for a dying girl you still look fantastic.” Jo shook her head.

“They say beauty is pain, right?” Jo weakly painted at her bandages. Emily scoffed. She closed her eyes and tried to get control over her breathing and her shaky limbs. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to be together.” Continued Jo.

“In another universe we would have made a hot ass couple.”

“Yeah, and your brother would have tried to break us up every day.” Jo weakly laughed.

Emily smiled. “For sure.” She started feeling her legs again. “But you know… Hunters’ oldest rule, right? Can’t get attached.” She suddenly became serious.

“Yeah.” Whispered Jo.

“Yeah.”

“We’re ready.” Said Dean’s voice. Emily opened her eyes and stood up. She took one big breath. “You doing okay?”

“Not sure if this qualifies as good, but I can run, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Emily knew that Jo would have died bloody the day she met her. After all, it was every hunter’s faith. What she didn’t see coming, was that she was going to go that soon and like that. The sound of the explosion made her ears ring for a good day. The back of Emily’s mind was filled by the sound of the explosion repeating over and over again. At night, she covered her ears, trying to get rid of the sound, but of course- it didn’t work.

When she finally touched the couch at Bobby’s place, she didn’t cry. She just laid on it, occupying half of the space. She knew the other half was going to be occupied by Dean soon. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the ceiling.

As she had thought, Dean did the exact same thing on the other end of the couch. Just, he brought a bottle of whiskey.

That’s where they stayed for the following twenty four hours. Sam tried to talk to them, Bobby tired to talk to them, but the oly answer they got were: “Shut the fuck up” and scowls.

They didn’t speak much with each other, either. In the entire time they were there, they only exchanged one dialogue.

“You want to talk about it?” Had asked Emily, already quite drunk.

“No.” Dean grabbed the bottle and drank more.“Good.” She whispered. “Let’s never talk about it.”

#supernatural ff #angst #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #sisterfic supernatural #supernatural sisfic #oc #emily winchester #be the young #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic #heads up jd im a dead queue walking

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josefsen95true · 2 years

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replica burberry scarf 14

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norris82rivas · 2 years

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replica burberry scarf 14

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gracegrace45 · 2 years

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Get The Designer Look With The Gucci Belt Dupe

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

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Just This Once, Your Ears Only

AO3 link! this is for my anon that just found out about miss d and the pallboys and wanted a fic about it so here you go! I hope y'all enjoy this and apologies for any grammatical errors!

Tag List (form to join): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp,@rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians

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Alcina didn’t talk much about her past and that was fine. You always cherished the things that she had told you about her time before Mother Miranda and the cadou. You never pushed her to tell you more than she was comfortable, but when you found that old jazz album in a box your curiosity was piqued. How had she not told you that she used to be in a jazz band called Miss D & the Pallboys? Honestly, you were pretty shocked that Alcina hadn’t told you about this part of her life. So when you brought it to her, your find, she was a bit hostile about it.

“Ali, come on. This is really cool.” You said. “I know you don’t often talk about your past, but I really want to know more about this.”

Alcina sighed, rubbing her temples to ebb away the oncoming headache. “Dear, I’ve already said that I don’t wish to revisit such a trivial time in my life.” Alcina replied.

“But I’ve never heard you sing.” You counter. “I’ve heard you hum, I’ve heard you play the piano, but I’ve never once heard you sing.”

“And I’m afraid you’ll never get the opportunity to. My singing days are long behind me and I’d like to keep it that way.” Alcina replied.

You frowned, but ultimately accepted your defeat. “Alright, Ali, I’m sorry. You win.” For now, at least. Time for Plan B. “Can I visit Karl this week?” You asked.

Alcina groaned. “I am not sure how you became friends with that annoying little imp, but I do need you out of the Castle tomorrow so I suppose you may go and visit him then.” Alcina responded. “However, when you leave, have him escort you home. As much as I despise that man-child, there have been lycans spotted around the village and forest more so than usual in the evening, so you’ll be safe with that little idiot by your side.”

You gave her a smile and nod as you did an internal happy dance. “I will call him now to let him know. I’ll even throw in a little threat so he knows you’re serious, Ali.” You teased. Alcina snorted at that. “Alcina?” She hummed in acknowledgment. “Have you ever tried to say something nice about Karl or even tried to be a little bit nicer to him?” You asked.

Alcina looked up at you. “When that insufferable idiot is nicer to me then I shall repay him in kind. Until then, if he keeps calling me lady super sized bitch, I will continue to refer to him as a child. Although, he really is a child regardless of what affectionate nicknames he has for our so called family.” Alcina replied. “But Heisenberg being nice to me will never happen in a million years.”

"Are you willing to bet on that?" You asked. Alcina whirled her eyebrow at you. "If Karl does something nice for you then you have to sing one of your jazz songs for me."

"And if he doesn't?" Alcina asked.

"Then you get whatever you want from me." You replied.

Alcina hummed. "And if I want you chained to my bed all day to do with as I please, I can have that?" You nodded your head. "Then I believe we have a bet on our hands, dear."

You gave her a nervous smile before excusing yourself from her study. After you left, you made your way to your own study. The thought of it made you smile. Alcina had realised that you didn’t have a room in the castle to call your own, so she allowed you to remake one of them into your own, so to speak. It was still decorated the way Alcina had, but now it had more of your things in it to keep you occupied if Alcina went out for a meeting or if you just needed a quiet space to be in.

The first thing you did upon entering your study was call Karl. You let him know that you’d be over early and you even mentioned the bet you had going on with Alcina. “Lady Super Sized Bitch is going down.” were his exact words and they made you laugh. After you said goodbye to him, you called Donna and asked her if she could sew some costumes up for you, the girls, and Karl. You were glad that she had agreed and accepted your invitation to Jazz Friday as opposed to Opera Wednesday. This week’s meeting had been moved from Friday to Wednesday so Opera Night had been moved to Friday. You really hoped that Alcina wouldn’t mind you hijacking her night with your plan and with only five days to get it all planned, you really didn’t have time to work yourself into a tizzy with worrying.

You spent the next day with Karl, telling him what instruments you’d need him to produce for the show. With that taken care of, you could talk to the girls about the surprise and the parts that they’d play for Jazz Night. You made sure all of the Lords had an invitation for Friday. You would’ve invited Mother Miranda, but she was out of the village on business. You were nervous when Friday finally came, making sure everything was perfect.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. Alci’s gonna love it.” Karl said as he fussed over his tuxedo.

You let out a deep breath and smiled at him. “Of course. Or at least I hope she does.” You replied. You held the microphone in your hand when you heard Alcina’s voice.

“Donna, Moreau, it’s a pleasure to have you two with us tonight. I see Heisenberg has failed to join us for another evening.” That made Karl scowl. “Nevertheless, the show must go on. My wonderful daughters and my lovely partner, Y/N, have prepared something special for us tonight. So please sit back and enjoy the show.” Alcina said, finishing off her speech before sitting in her seat.

A couple of maids opened the curtain and you could hear the small gasp Alcina let out, your face starting to heat up. You’d had Karl make a saxophone for Bela, a piano for Cassandra that she could comfortably sit at, a cello for Daniela, and a trumpet for himself. Whilst Donna made tuxedos for all of you. The girls and Karl wore black tuxedos with white dress shirts, the only difference being that the girls had their gemstones on the collar of their shirts and Karl’s didn’t. Your tuxedo was white and you had a hat on with a feather like the one Alcina wore on the cover of the Miss D & the Pallboys album. You managed to not let your nerves get to you as you sang a Nat King Cole classic, Unforgettable. When the performance was over the five of you bowed before the curtain closed.

“Y/N, that was amazing!” Bela said. “I think I saw Mother tearing up out there so I’d say that she loved the performance!”

You scratched at the back of your head, laughing nervously. “Really? I just wish we could’ve sung a Miss D & the Pallboys original for her too, but you can’t go wrong with a classic like Unforgettable.” You replied. “Now you three go get changed, you still have to do that Italian opera piece your mother picked out for you.”

Daniela gave you a hug. “Thank you for putting this together.” Daniela said into your ear.

Cassandra gave you a smile. “And we completely understand if you want to skip the rest of the show. Putting together something like this sounds very tiring.” You nodded your head before wishing them good luck.

The rest of the night was purely opera, but you didn’t have it in yourself to join the others back out in the audience while the girls did their performance. So you had made your way back to the room that you shared with Alcina, putting on your pyjamas and curling up into bed with a book. And that’s how Alcina found you, except you were almost half asleep with the book lying across your stomach.

“Darling?” Alcina called out softly, rousing you from your sleep. You hummed in acknowledgment to let her know you were still with her. Alcina took that opportunity to put on her nightgown before slipping into the bed next to you, pulling you into her side. “Did you put together that whole thing just for me?” Alcina asked.

You nodded. “I did. Not alone though. Karl and Donna really helped out. And Moreau was the one that recommended the song I sang, Mother Miranda bless him for the suggestion.” You mumbled out slightly before yawning.

Alcina pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, My Love. Now, I do believe I lost a bet so I’ll give you your reward, yes?” You sleepily nodded your head against her side. “Alright, little one, but just this once and for your ears only. And only because you got that idiot oaf to do something nice for me.” Alcina said.

“Be nice, Ali.” You mumbled again, smiling at the grumbling noises that Alcina made at your words but you could faintly make out her saying “Fine,” before you let out a hum of approval.

After a few seconds of silence, you heard Alcina start to sing the words to a song you didn’t know. You could only assume that it was one of the songs she sang with her band and you smiled. Alcina really did have a beautiful singing voice.

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barnesbabee · 3 years

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ- ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

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avenging-criminal-bones · 3 years

Text

After All This Time || Chapter One

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1206

Summary: You being a new recruit pissed SSA Aaron Hotchner off. You being smart enough to give Spencer a run for his money pissed him off even more. Really, he just despised your presence. Hated your every move…

Until one day, he didn’t.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, Hotch yells (but we like that here)

A/N: Stuff starts to get set up in this chapter :)

Tag List: @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @scootankle @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67

* * * * *

Chapter One

You walk through the bullpen, with your hair in a tight ponytail on top of your head. The black flats you wore sliding across the carpet with ease as you walk in with confidence.

There's a whistle to your left and you stop, brows furrowing as you walk towards the- admittedly attractive man- and cross your arms.

"Can I help you?" You speak with an air of authority over the man and wait for his response. The playfulness in his eyes is immediately hardened as he stands and towers over you by a good three inches.

"Agent Derek Morgan of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Are you Y/N L/N?" He looks amused as you shrink down slightly, losing some of that confidence from just a second earlier.

"Um, yes sir. I'm sorry about that. The men at the LA branch were-"

"It's alright, babygirl. You'll just have to get used to me." He doesn't say it in a suggestive manner, just states it as a fact. You can tell that he has a flirty attitude, but the gleam in his eyes just shows that he is like that with everyone. Especially when a very eccentric, blonde woman walks into the room and he whistles again speaking about her being his 'Baby Mama'.

"Just a heads up, we try not to profile each other here. It's like an unspoken rule, so to speak." You turn to where the voice came from and see a very kind, motherly looking woman holding her hand out to introduce herself. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, but the team calls me JJ."

"Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet you," you pause for a moment, watching Derek's interaction on the other side of the room, "Is he always like that?"

A black haired woman answers then, "Yes. Every day, with everybody. You get used to it." She tips her head to you, "Emily Prentiss."

"Agent L/N. My office, please. Now."

You spin at hearing your name and look up to see who you can only assume is Aaron Hotchner. He doesn't wait to send you a smile or a wave, instead opting to spin on his heel and walk into the room that you guess is his office.

Turning back to the two girls who had made you feel welcome, you nodded slightly and said, "It was nice meeting you, but I guess that's my cue."

The women nod, but you don't see them because you're already walking into the head SSA's office.

You knock gently on the door before walking, despite him being the one who asked you to see him.

"Agent Hotchner. It's nice to meet you, I'm-"

"Sit down, L/N."

You obey, and sit a bit straighter than you had been to meet the others. The calming, welcoming nature of the girls was not shared by Hotchner.

Scanning the room, you notice a few things. You aren't aware that you hadn't heeded JJ's advice, and you look for details that will tell you who your new boss really is.

The first thing that you see is the absence of a wedding ring. It draws your attention that a man of his age and position of power isn't married. Subconsciously narrowing your eyes, you see that there is a fading tan line on the same finger.

So he was married.

Tilting your head to the side, you see two drawing that are seemingly by a child. By the looks of it and the minimal errors with staying in the lines, you decide it is a child near the age of six. Probably the same boy in those pictures on his shelf.

His son and his wife? His ex-wife. You correct yourself as your gaze flies back to his bare ring finger.

He doesn't look up from the papers on his desk until you've been quietly observing him for about two minutes.

"Something you'll do well to learn, L/N," his voice, stern and final, pulls you out of your observations, "Is that we don't profile each other here. So I suggest that you stop trying to pick me apart and instead listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you."

Shocked by the aggressive tone, you can only nod your head.

“Those men and women that you met on your way in? I trust them with my life. You on the other hand? I wouldn’t trust you to make me a coffee if you had the instructions right in front of you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes. I-”

“Yes, what?” He interrupts, glaring down at you from his place behind his desk.

You want to roll your eyes, but as it seems that you already started in his bad side you don’t.

“Yes, sir. I understand. I c an only hope that my performance with whatever case we come across next, that I can change that opinion.” Keeping your pin straight back, you add a pleasant smile to your demeanor in hopes to look less scared.

He looks back down as his paperwork and says, “You are dismissed, L/N.”

Nodding slightly to yourself you stand and try to regain your dignity before stepping out of his office. You take notice that the blinds had been wide open and the crack under the door suggests that anyone in the bullpen would have been able to tell what was said.

Once you get back to the group of your coworkers, you are introduced to Spencer: a young man who seems just as smart as you were told, and Rossi: an older Italian man with a little too much knowledge of cooking.

“JJ, he didn’t tell me where my desk is. Is it the empty one closer to the entrance?” You gesture slightly with your bag.

Slowly she nods and you brush past her with a soft ‘thank you’.

You were warned by Strauss that you would need to be prepared to leave to anywhere in the country at anytime. She mentioned that most of the team has a “go-bag” that they bring with clothing and spare toiletries. So you had brought yours in with you to stash in your desk.

Hoping that no one would say anything to you about what Hotchner had said, you set to work trying to make your desk more your own.

Shuffling through the drawers, you find an old desk tag and pull it out. Derek walks over to you; he had been watching you the whole time.

“Who is ‘Elle Greenaway’? Is she the previous agent that I’m filling in for?” You ask with curiosity.

“Um. Yes. She was. She was shot and killed three months ago.” His voice was solemn and instantly you regretted asking.

“Derek, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know. It’s okay. That’s probably why Hotch was acting so uptight about you being here in his office.” He patted you on the shoulder and wandered over to the coffee machine that no doubt made shitty coffee.

Something in your gut told you that was not why, but you appreciated the sentiment so you didn’t say anything as he left.

Letting out a long breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, you steel yourself and get to signing on the preliminary paperwork.

#angst #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #Spencer Reid #Derek Morgan #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #Penelope Garcia #x reader

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lovenhlboys · 3 years

Text

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Tag list form

A/n: hello peoples!! I’m so excited to FINALLY post the first chapter of this fic!!! I’ve been working on it for a long time, and after a few unpleasant delays, it’s finally happening 😁. While this isn’t my first fic, this is my first NHL fic, and the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr, so I’m a little nervous. This first chapter is mostly the set up to the main story, this is reader’s side of things with a flashback story. Chapter two will be mostly from Elias’s point of view. The rest of the chapters will switch back and fourth between the two.

CREDIT: Finally, before we get started I have to shout out my proofreaders. Y’all put up with me and my insanity: @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @immmbabyyygraceee @💕💕And specifically @imagines-r-s ASH!!! Babes, you have been the best and most supportive friend I could’ve asked for during this. You boosted my confidence about this fic and I have no idea what I’d do without you 😁😁

Without further ado, let’s get started shall we!! (Sorry for the long A/N, it’ll only be for this first chapter)

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of cursing, friends with benefits but like...just cuddling???, references to iCarly, mentions of One Tree Hill.

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: (i suggest having these ready before you read)

Y/C/N/N= your cute nick name, only Markstrom calls you it (you’ll see why) this can be either a pet name you like, or a nick name you already have.

Y/N/N= your nick name, Brock, Quinn, and a few others call you this, it’s more of a playful name. Again, this can be a nickname you already have (if you don’t have one I suggest something stupid (sounds like something Stech or Brock would come up with)

Y/N= this is your first name, only Elias calls you this unless it’s a serious situation, or you’re in trouble, or Brock is being an ass. (If it wasn’t clear before...your last name is Boeser)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you have a hardcore crush on your brothers best friend, who also happens to barely speak to you...it’s a slight predicament.

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

(This is set in the 2021 season, however, because of my denial, Marky and Stech are still in Vancouver and were never traded... also no Covid. however the season was still delayed just to make it easier to follow.)

Present (Feb. 2021)

You’ve always been best friends with your older brother, you never had any real issues when you were younger and you were inseparable. So much so in fact, that once you graduated early a little less than two years ago (June 2019), he asked you to move to Vancouver and live with him. He was always so protective of you and you appreciated everything he has done in your life. One of the best parts about Brock being your older brother was the people he introduced to you. You aren’t very social and god knows how much of a people person your brother is. Once you had moved in, Brock quickly introduced you to the team. And with your double major in Statistics: Data Sciences and Sports Management, you were able to secure a job with the team. Quickly, you found yourself with a second family, one with many members.

Quinn Hughes is your best friend. when you met him about a year and a half ago, you hit it off immediately. With both of you being the same age and not very social, there was an obvious connection there. When Brock and The boys go out, it is you and Quinn who stay in and watch shows on the couch (your favorite being New Girl). Huggy Bear is so sweet and you tell him EVERYTHING, even things you’d never tell your brother. You are still thanking the draft lottery every day that the Canucks received the 7th overall pick that gave you your bestie.

Thatcher Demko AKA Dems AKA Thatch AKA baby goalie is the sweetest and most hilarious guy you know. He is always looking after you just like Brock, but he is also one of the most annoying guys you know. When you’d first met you had the biggest crush on him. You told Quinn as much and he gave you so much shit for it. That crush was short-lived though, once you found out how obnoxious he could be. You still love him, just as a friend. Though Quinn never forgets to remind you of the crush that once was.

Bo Horvat is like another big brother to you. Sure you have Brock, but he’s your best friend. Bo, however, is the person you go to when you needed advice. Holly is one of the only WAGs you’ve become close with. She and you consistently have wine and gossip nights, of which Quinn is sometimes in attendance. Plus, you and Quinn are an amazing babysitting team for Gunnar if you have anything to say about it.

Troy Stecher is the annoying older brother you never had. He always makes fun of you, calls you names, and bullies you in the loving way brothers do. And he never hesitates to come to you if he ever needs girl advice, which seems to happen a lot.

JT was just like Bo, except he is waaay more protective of you, maybe even a bit more than brock. He doesn’t have a sister and when you met, he made it his job to never see you get hurt. Seriously, one day a guy was bugging you at the bar, and both Brock and Bo were struggling to hold him back when he saw him slap you on the ass as you walked away.

Jacob Markstrom, AKA Marky, AKA Giraffe (pronounced like it is in one of your favorite vines), AKA your cuddle buddy for the past few seasons. Both being single, you felt lonely sometimes and Quinn wasn’t much of a hugger (despite what the nickname might have you believe). Thatcher had offered but Marky, though just as social, is much more laid back. It also helps that he is 6’6 putting him over a foot taller than you. So during movie nights, or late nights at the bar, he is the side you lean on. Of course, you made it abundantly clear to most of the boys and yourselves that you were just friends. As sweet as he was and as great of a boyfriend as he would’ve been, he wasn’t quite your type and your personalities clashed.

Then there was Elias Pettersson, the tall, skinny, Swedish guy you knew as Petey. The guy who looked at you often and barely spoke a word directed towards you. He was Brock's best friend and he came over all the time, you didn’t have an issue with him, and you couldn’t deny he was funny, and from what you’ve heard he is a very kind person. So naturally, he was exactly your type. You’ve had a massive crush on him for a while now, somehow despite the lack of conversation. And the few times he has talked to you, he’s seemed so perfect, but there are only a few times you can remember.

Right now, as you're on your way to the Canuck’s break room your brother texted you to meet him in, you try to recall those few times, specifically the one where your crush on him truly developed.

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

FLASHBACK (some time in January, 2020)

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

You, Quinn, and Jacob were laying on the L-shaped couch in ‘The Boeser apartment’, you were cuddled under the blanket with Jacob, laying on the section perpendicular to the TV, your heads at the corner. Quinn was on the other side of the couch, his head right next to yours. it was about 7 o’clock and the episode of One Tree Hill you were watching had just ended and you three had not eaten dinner yet. As the countdown for the next episode started, your stomach growled and you got a look from Quinn and a giggle from Jacob.

“You hungry Y/C/N/N?” Jacob asked.

You looked up at him and giggled, “maybe just a little bit.”

“Y/N/N, you know what sounds amazing?” Quinn asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to each other and you both smirked knowing you were thinking the same thing.

“Spaghetti tacos!!” You both said.

Ever since you were about 10 and you watched iCarly on TV, you had always wanted to try them. It had become an inside joke between you and Quinn for quite some time as he had the same desire as you to see how good they actually were.

“We should totally try them tonight!!” Quinn was quite excited.

“I’m so confused right now,” Jacob chimed in.

“They’re from a show! They take spaghetti and put it in taco shells,” you explained.

“Ahh, hence the name.” he nodded.

“Exactly,” Quinn said.

You jumped up from the couch excitedly and ran straight to your kitchen.

“Ok, we have spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, ground beef, taco shells, aaaand..... by chance do either of you know how to make good meatballs?”

“You’re asking the Swedish guy if he knows how to make meatballs?” Jacob replied.

“Not Swedish meatballs, Italian, stupid Giraffe,” you retorted.

“Gross,” he said with a disgusted look.

“Ooo my mom made the best Italian meatballs, let me call her to see if she can send me the recipe!” Quinn said with a big smile.

Quinn exited the kitchen and ran to your room to call his mom.

“You know, I’ve never seen him so excited about anything,” Marky said with a laugh.

“Quinn loves his food,” you replied.

“Are Brock and Thatch having dinner with us ?”

“I’ll ask.”

You started boiling the water for the pasta, and you cooked part of the ground beef for the meat sauce. Then you texted Brock:

Y/N/N: hey, you want me to make you dinner

Brock: Yeah, who all is there?

Y/N/N: the usual

Brock: Huggy and Marky?

Y/N/N: yep, so do you want some?

Brock: Yeah, and make enough for another person too

Y/N/N: ok

You figured it was Dems since that’s who he went to hang out with when he left 5 hours ago.

You continued to cook when Quinn came in and grabbed a bunch of stuff from the pantry and cabinets. “Did your mom tell you how to make them?” you questioned your frantic best friend.

“Yes she did and she sent me the recipe too.”

“Coolio,” you reply.

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

You were almost done cooking, the pasta was done, Quinn had put his meatballs in the oven and there were only 5 minutes left on the timer. And the sauce had about 2 minutes to simmer.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot what to do when they're almost done, she does this thing, I have to call her,” Quinn said with a panicked look on his face. He ran back to your room.

The front door to your apartment opened quickly, both boys laughing, “ahh, shit, my brother’s calling me,” Brock said as he ran back to his room.

“Why does everyone feel the need to exit the room for phone calls?” you asked Jacob.

He shrugged with a giggle, “I don't know, maybe they don’t trust us,” he said in a sarcastically dramatic tone grasping his chest.

The door closed slowly and you glanced at the doorway where you thought you’d see the ever adorable goalie, Thatcher Demko, instead, you saw the adorable, slender, tall blonde you’d seen all the time, but never had a one on one interaction with... except the first time you met, when he told you that you looked pretty.

“Hi, Petey!” Jacob said as he slipped behind you to watch you mix the sauce, he stood over you looking at the sauce and put his hand on your waist.

“Hi,” he replied, his smile from before had faded.

“Looks so good Y/C/N/N,” Jacob said with a kiss on your cheek, a regular action.

“Thanks, Giraffe, can you grab the taco shells?”

He grabbed them easily from the top shelf (tall ass bitch -_-), and moved behind you, placing his hands on your waist yet again, to move you to the side. “I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back”

“Ok, you have fun with that,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly, was only you and Elias in the room, and the silence was deafening.

“So what are we eating?” he said, pulling your attention to his bright blue eyes.

“Um, spaghetti tacos, they're from a tv sho-”

“Like from iCarly?” he interrupted.

“...Uh yeah? How'd you know?” you couldnt pull your attention away from his eyes, ‘they are just so beautiful,’ you thought somehow you hadnt noticed this within the on and a half years you’d known him.

“We also get Nickelodeon, you know,” he said while throwing you a smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you replied, feeling just a little embarrassed.

“iCarly was my favorite, actually.”

“Yeah, it was mine too,” you said, smiling back, looking at the way he just lit up your kitchen with his presence.

You both stood there for a second just looking at the other, “So how long have-,” he started.

“OKAY,” Quinn unknowingly interrupted, “so she told me what to do, turns out I have to put sauce over them for the last 2 minutes, so Y/N/N can you just put a tablespoon of sauce on each ball then put them back in for two minutes?”

“Yeah of course. Elias, you were saying?” you looked back at the Swede.

“Oh it's nothing,” he looked down at his shoes.

“Ok, Y/N/N you need to call mom and tell her we’re fine and that she doesn't need to worry about us please, Paul says she’s stressing,” Brock said as he entered the room.

“When is she not stressing about us? I’ll call her after dinner, how's dad?”

“Doin’ good, nothing has changed or progressed or whatever since we were home last,” Brock moved and sat on the couch letting out a big sigh.

“That’s good,” you let out a sigh.

“Petey, come here, we’re watching Gossip Girl” Brock shouted at the Swede.

“Ooo what episode are you guys on?” you asked. Brock had mentioned how he was making him watch the show you two had watched about 5 times together.

“Just after Chuck gets Dan kidnapped at Yale.”

“Oh so you still hate Chuck?” you asked Elias.

“Ew, yeah...wait is that gonna change?” Petey said with a scoff.

“Uh....,” you stalled.

“Y/N shut up, don't spoil it,” Brock interrupted before you could make it worse.

“Ok well, dinner is ready so just start the show after and we can all watch it together.”

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

“Oh my god, these are actually amazing,” Quinn said with his mouth full.

“I know, I did not think this was gonna taste good,” Jacob added.

“Hey!” you said, offended.

“Y/C/N/N, you know I love your cooking, it was the idea of the meal that I doubted,” Jacob said leaning into your side and putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmmhmm, suuure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Hallå Marky, ni två är söta (hey Marky, you two are cute),” Petey said, confusing you, Quinn and Brock with the sudden change in language.

Jacob, being oblivious to what Petey was implying, just said, “tack broder (thanks, bro).”

Little did you know what was going on in Elias’s head.

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

PRESENT

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

Before that night, you never really thought of Elias in a romantic way. You'd been around him quite a lot, seeing as how, seemingly, is in your apartment more than his own. Sure, you knew he was cute and very sweet from what you'd seen, but up until that point, you'd never had a one-on-one interaction with him. That interaction, however small, was the beginning of an obsessive crush. Quinn was the first to point it out, you started listening closely any time he talked, attempting to converse with him, and thinking about him on a daily basis even when you didn't see him. And due to your stubbornness, no matter how unrequited your crush seemed, it never faltered. You had always thought he hated you, or maybe he just tolerated you because you were Brock’s sister, and you were always around.

However, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

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

Tag list: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan

#from a distance: series #pls let me know what you think!!#hockey #nhl #elias pettersson #vancover canucks #elias pettersson fic #brock boeser #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson imagines #elias pettersson imagine #vancouver canucks imagines #vancouver canucks fic #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Sound Conclusions

Rating:Explicit

Words: 3975

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Tagging @today-in-fic

Find it on AO3

*********************

2000

She hadn’t expected that her desire for him would only increase after she’d had him once. That first night, emboldened by loneliness and a little red wine, she’d found the courage to reach for him, to lean in to his desirous gaze, to walk them slowly to her bedroom between fervent kisses. It was an itch to be scratched, something that you could anticipate fading away once sated, but it hadn’t. Perhaps that was because it had exceeded even her most graphic fantasies about how it might be, the slip of his fingers inside her igniting nerve endings that her vibrator had never located when she had imagined his touch. The grip of his palms on her hips as she writhed, gasping, in his lap a detail she had never known to conjure. The depth of the growl in his throat when she told him she was going to come vibrating through her bones was a memory she couldn’t shake. The smell of his cum in her panties hours after he’d left her apartment had her breathless, wanting him again already, somehow more than she ever had before she knew the taste of his saliva and the scratch of his stubble against her nipples.

They’d arrived to work the following day and acted as though nothing had happened, pretending not to feel things being one of her specialties. She worked hard to mask the new way her pulse quickened when he touched her back, the visceral response she had to the smell of his breath when he leaned in to whisper a snarky comment during their weekly division briefing. She found herself getting lost staring at his hands while he took notes, remembering the way they stroked her insides, and then blushed when he asked her if she was okay. She knew, without a doubt, that she wanted him again. If he at any point had offered to take her right there on his desk, she wouldn’t have been able to say no. And yet, she was so careful to avoid giving him any indication of this, feeling embarrassed and guilty for such wanton desires, for objectifying her partner like this. The Catholic guilt a wet blanket on her newfound lust, suppressing her into the polished, poised, sexless FBI agent she had spent so much time working to be. Weeks passed, her need for him coursing through her veins like a drug, intoxicating her to the point she often forgot terms and concepts that she normally recalled easily, again prompting him to inquire as to whether she was feeling alright, noting that she didn’t seem like herself.

She wasn’t herself. She was a woman obsessed and fixated, aroused by the casual brush of a hand or the timbre of a laugh. She was sitting on the edge of a precipice, teetering between control and absolute abandon. Normally so securely in the driver’s seat of her own body, she was unnerved by the feeling that she barely had a grip on the wheel, that at any point she might let go and crash into him, revealing the truth that she needed human contact and sexual release just as much as anyone did. The vulnerability in that need made her feel unhinged.

She found herself trying to entice him, concurrently hating herself for stooping so low. She left an extra button on her blouse undone, put a switch in her hips when she walked ahead of him, brushed her own fingers across the skin of her neck in a way that would be unnoticeable in anyone else, but she caught him noticing from the corner of her eye. When she anticipated that he’d come by her apartment, she wore shorts or a low v neck shirt, forgetting a bra or sitting cross legged to reveal the milky insides of her thighs, inviting him, wordlessly, to taste them. Sometimes she thought she saw a flash of desire in his eyes, but he always composed himself quickly, sometimes making an excuse to leave. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he hadn’t tried again, that even when she did something as overt as leave her bedroom door open when she changed, he chivalrously averted his eyes. She realized it was unfair to expect him to understand, to know, what she wanted. Even if he did pick up on her painfully subtle, and occasionally obvious, signals, that didn’t mean he returned her feelings. Perhaps that night had been a mistake in his eyes, a slip up never to be repeated. The possibility that he would reject her if she risked reaching out to him again was enough to hold her back from doing so. Though he had enthusiastically participated the last time, that did not preclude him from having regretted it once it was over.

Now she stood before his closed apartment door on a Friday night, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Not because she was nervous, but because she was on fire. Her pelvis twitched and her spine arched at the idea of being near him in a private space, where the possibilities that ran through her mind all day seemed more plausible. He’d invited her over for dinner and a review of some possible cases they might take on, so they could plan how to spend their time the following week. Since he’d made the proposal that morning, she’d convinced and then talked herself out of his ulterior motives countless times. She knew that working herself up into thinking that something would happen made it even harder, and she heard her grad school professor’s voice in her head saying “expectations are premeditated resentments, Dana.” Gathering her composure, she took a moment to hike her breasts up in her push up bra and tug her jeans up over her hips so that they were snug against her ass. She’d finally settled on jeans and a green T shirt, which felt appropriately casual, but she’d selected a shirt that was a little too snug and a little too low cut, jeans that were half a size too small and slung low on her hips. If she were to bend over the flesh of her back would be exposed, which gave her a tiny thrill. Any stranger on the street would never give her outfit a second glance; it was painfully basic and unremarkable. But for buttoned-up, proper Dana Scully, it was reckless and suggestive. She may as well have been wearing lingerie for how sexy it made her feel.

Putting on her game face, she knocked. From inside the apartment he called “it’s open” and she let herself in, setting her purse on his cluttered dining room table and scanning the adjacent rooms to locate him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the living room, and she found herself standing in the doorway of his bedroom, eyes roving over his naked chest and belly, a towel slung low on his hips and his hair spiked and wet from the shower. She smirked a little, wondering if this were intentional. Given her recent antics it seemed entirely possible, so she took a risk and didn’t look away, allowing him to see her rake her eyes over him appreciatively, finally reaching his face where a knowing smile played at the corner of his lips. Those lips. She sighed and smiled back at him, and he glanced down her body and back up before saying “hey.”

“Hi” she returned, suddenly feeling shy. She averted her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be out in a minute, this isn’t what I was planning to wear.”

“That‘s too bad” she said in her head. “Okay” is what came out of her mouth before she turned and went to sit on the couch, tortured by the knowledge that he was naked on the other side of the wall. Was she supposed to take that as an invitation? Was he trying to send her signals just as much as she was him? She suddenly remembered why she didn’t bother with dating; all the guesswork was exhausting.

He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later in a black T shirt and jeans, his feet bare. He looked freshly shaved. “I ordered Italian” he said, sitting down beside her, only a sliver of space between the sides of their thighs. “Should be here in about an hour, they were really busy.” He smelled like soap and his old spice deodorant, mint on his breath. She figured he had played basketball after work and that explained the shower, but did he normally shave and brush his teeth before dinner? Her expectations were weaseling their way into her thoughts again. Stop, she told herself.

“Do you want a beer?” He asked, and she said yes a little too quickly. He opened a beer for each of them and she sipped it steadily, welcoming the way it would smooth the edges of her thoughts but not wanting to appear as though she were planning to get drunk. Mulder was a gentleman beyond gentlemen and wouldn’t dream of touching her if he thought she were incapacitated in any respect. This was a fact she appreciated generally, and resented presently.

They dug into a thin stack of case files, each leaning forward with their elbows braced on their knees. She watched out of her periphery to see if he was looking down her shirt, and bit her cheek to keep from smiling when she saw that he was at regular intervals. Within about 20 minutes they narrowed it down to three cases they’d dig into on Monday, revealing the fact that an entire evening together wasn’t necessary for such a task, but they were both grateful to set the case files aside and just exist outside of suit jackets and basement offices. Scully was sitting sideways, cross legged, with her back against the arm rest, her toes grazing Mulder’s leg as he sat beside her, his torso twisted slightly to face her. She held her nearly empty beer bottle in her hands, picking at the corner of the label with her fingernail.

“So” he said. She felt the prick of anticipation and the hairs on her arms stood at attention, on guard for whatever might come next.

“So” she responded, because what else was she to say?

He studied her intently, his hazel eyes traversing the terrain of her face, darting from eyebrow to lip to nose, searching her for something. Finally the unbroken attention made her so uncomfortable that she was willing to speak.

“What?” She asked him, keeping her tone neither accusatory nor annoyed, simply curious. “What are you thinking about?” it conveyed, without saying as much.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully. “Was it a mistake, what happened? Do you think of it that way?”

His speaking of the unspeakable caught her off guard and she felt her face flush immediately. “No” she said, but she couldn’t meet his eye. “No, I don’t think of it that way.”

“What was it then? One time thing? Random fluke?”

How he was able to speak so directly about such fraught topics was always a marvel to her. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, but closed it again each time. What she wanted to say was that she didn’t know what it was supposed to be when she initiated it, but the second it was over she wanted it to be part of her daily routine, like brushing her hair. Finally she gave him a tiny shrug and an “I don’t know.” She hated herself for making it seem like she didn’t care, but she didn’t know how to be honest without sounding like a teenager with a crush.

He studied her face again, and she self consciously fussed with her hair, looking at anything but him. She could feel him thinking, strategizing. She could only hope his strategy ended with her naked in his lap, but she also realized that if that were to happen, she would have to make more of an effort outside of simply not getting up and leaving.

“Do you want it to happen again?” He asked, and she laughed out of surprise, biting her lip but not answering. She lifted her eyes to meet his and her stomach clenched when she saw the stoic expression on his face, his eyes full of self-doubt. She was an asshole for making him think for a second that she didn’t want him. They lingered there, locked in an impromptu staring contest, until Mulder reached out and took the empty beer bottle from her hands and set it on the coffee table. He then lightly grasped her wrist in one hand and pressed the middle and forefinger of his other hand to her pulse point. She knew what he was doing. Her heart, which was already racing, sped up to something resembling the beat of hummingbird wings. After a moment, he removed his fingers and brought his lips to kiss the spot they had just vacated.

“I realize things like this are hard for you to talk about, and I know you well enough to know that if the answer were no, you would have told me as much and high-tailed it out of here. So I’m going to take the fact that you’re still sitting here, as well as the fact that your heart is working triple time, to mean that it would be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she said in a near whisper, every cell in her body reaching out for him like he was magnetized. They were still locked in eye contact, though with this new understanding it had shifted from awkward to intimate.

They both jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. “Marinos!” Someone called out from the other side, and Mulder stood and went to grab his wallet. While he was gone, Scully let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she got here, and stood to use the bathroom. She studied her face in the mirror, sniff-checked her armpits, freshened up to be sure there were no errant toilet paper shreds clinging to her anatomy. When she opened the door, she found Mulder standing on the other side, waiting. She gave him a confused but also amused look.

“Hi” she said around a shy smile.

“Welcome back” he replied with a cool bravado, then stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her in to a sweet kiss. She sighed into his mouth, the relief after weeks of tension pooling at her feet. She brought her hands to his neck and used his weight as leverage as she leaned her body against his, wanting him closer. In return, he stooped to grab the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. It was still light out, and without the cover of darkness or the clumsiness of a first time, she felt more powerful and in control. She knew he wanted her, and she knew what she wanted from him. He stepped the few feet towards his bed and gently lay her down, moving to plant kisses along her neck. Pushing the bottom hem of her shirt up to expose her belly, he asked “is this okay?” And she replied “you don’t have to ask, you can do whatever you want.”

“Fuck” he breathed. It was an expression of excitement, and nervousness, and amazement that she trusted him so perfectly, and wanted him so completely.

She sat up and he pulled her shirt off over her head, deftly un-hooking her bra before she slipped it down her arms and threw it over the side of the bed. He sucked a nipple between his teeth and she gasped, her hips bucking into him, her head falling back. He repeated it on the other breast and she whimpered, to which he pushed the bulge in his jeans against her thigh, seeking relief. She pulled at his shirt, signaling him to take it off, and he did in a split-second maneuver, not wanting to stray from his task for a moment longer than he had to. Kissing down her belly, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them forcefully off her hips and down her legs. His actions were desperate and hungry; he couldn’t wait to get at her, and she could not wait to be gotten. When he went to pull her panties off they ripped under his urgency and he tore them away, hooking his arms under her knees and pressing his face into her vulva as he drug her to the end of the bed.

“Jesus Christ” she called out, her hands threading into his hair as he lapped at her hungrily. She could not believe the speed with which she approached orgasm. She would never have described herself as someone who was easy to please in bed, and yet he seemed to locate every pleasure point on her body with admirable ease, slipping a finger inside her to massage her G spot as he sucked on her clit. She felt herself falling over the edge and she hung there deliciously long, the point of release laying across her like a blanket until it crashed against her like a wave.

“Oh, I’m gonna come” she pleaded, the sound more breath than words, as if he didn’t already know from his position on the seat of her orgasm that it was happening. She came for an eternity, unaware of her own sounds or movements, existing only within her body and beneath her pleasure. He stayed with her, teasing out every throb she had to give, running his rough hands over as much skin as he could reach, until she was sated, and lie still and quiet. He rested his head on the inside of her thigh and waited for a signal that she was ready to return to Earth. After a couple minutes, she spoke.

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, and crawled up to lie next to her, tucking his nose into her neck and placing tiny kisses all over her chest.

“I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I am completely naked” she said, a mix of self-consciousness and humor in her voice.

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down and then back up the length of her body. “You most certainly are” he said matter-of-factly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest in mock-modesty.

“You tore my underwear” she accused him, and he shrugged.

“Do you want to tear my underwear as payback?” He thrust his hips against her gently, and she was reminded that he had yet to be touched.

“Perhaps” she said against his lips, biting the lower one gently, signaling that they were not yet done. As she kissed him, she reached for the button of his jeans and flicked it open before easing down the zipper. He shifted up a bit to give her better access and breathed a low moan when she slipped her hand into his pants and grasped his erection.

“Mulder, I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing underwear”

“Maybe if you’d had the same idea I wouldn’t have needed to rip them off” he teased breathlessly.

She pushed his jeans down and he stood to remove them before rejoining her, curling his naked body against her side as she resumed stroking him. “Come here” she directed, moving her leg aside to make space for his body. He hovered over her, their tongues dancing between their mouths as he thrust against her belly. She lifted her knees towards her chest and reached down to grasp him, brushing the head of his cock against her slick lips. He hummed and mumbled words she couldn’t understand, until she guided him inside her and he said “fuck.”

“Watch your language, Mulder” she chastised playfully, and he thrust into her suddenly, eliciting a gasp.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt? He stilled, searching her face.

She shook her head with a sly smile. “Even if it did, that’s not always a bad thing.”

His eyebrows went up in surprise “I’m learning so much about you today” he mused, resuming his thrusts slowly.

“Likewise” she replied, but her breathing was growing ragged, their playful banter becoming unsustainable.

He quickened his pace, kissing her neck and lips, burying his face in her hair when it became too intense for kissing. Suddenly he stopped and withdrew from her, and she looked at him incredulously. “Where are you going?” A question she’d asked him hundreds of times in an entirely new context.

“I’m interested in seeing you in every position imaginable, however I’ve been thinking so much about last time and I’d really like you to be on top again, if you don’t object to that.”

“No objections here” she replied, moving so that he could sit at the head of the bed against the wall. The sun was setting and she felt a little less exposed in the fading light of the bedroom. She climbed into his lap and kissed him for a couple minutes as she teased him at her opening, shifting her hips so he’d slide by, but not enter her. When she finally sunk down onto him, he dropped his head back and moaned in delicious agony. She started rising and falling slowly, planting kisses on his neck and nipping at his earlobes. As his breathing quickened she changed her rhythm, keeping her body close against his and sliding back and forth. His eyes shot open and his head lifted to watch what she was doing, gripping her hips though he made no attempt to control her movements. He reached down between them to touch her clit and she pushed his hand away. “Too much” she panted. “This part is just for you.” He returned his hand to her hip and trained his eyes on the place where their bodies met, slack jawed and wide eyed as she flexed her pelvis forward and back. When she could tell he was close, she increased her pace until he closed his eyes, he tightened his grip on her and cried out. As he crested over the most intense point, he opened his eyes again and looked at her face, locking eyes with her in the dim light of his bedroom as he filled her with his hot cum, desire giving way to the deep affection they held for each other. She collapsed against him and they sat like that for a while until she felt his fading erection slip out of her and a rush of fluid followed.

“Shit!” She said, sitting up with a worried expression. “I forgot about that part.”

He made a face that set her off giggling, which caused even more to drip out of her and into his lap. “Gah, don’t laugh, Scully, that makes it worse!” His protests only made her laugh harder and he smiled at her jiggling breasts as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“How about a shower, then dinner?” He proposed, and she nodded, still regaining composure.

After a hot shower and a borrowed pair of boxer shorts, they sat on his couch eating reheated lasagna and smiling at each other. After Mulder cleared their plates, he sat back down beside her.

“So” he said.

“So” she returned. What else could she say?

“I’m going to take the fact that you’re still here and that you’re wearing my underwear as an indication that this wasn’t a two-time only thing. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she replied with a smile.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #txf #sculder #gillovny

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Text

Asthma

A/N: This is a Sonny Carisi x reader fic and as the title may suggest, it’s about asthma! I have asthma, and something like this happened to me (thank god for friends who know how to use inhalers). Please be aware that not all asthma works like this, and it’s highly specific to myself and how my asthma is. anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

P.S. I have a headcanon that Sonny switches to Italian when stressed/upset/scared because it calms him down

Tags: asthma attacks/lack of oxygen, near-death experiences

Words: 1722

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

Translations: Merda = shit

Fanculo = fuck

Stai bene? = are you ok?

come funziona di nuovo? = How does this work again?

Non farlo di nuovo! = Don’t do that again!

~~~~~~~~~~

You had been running around all day in the New York City heat and humidity, your lungs burning as you finally made it home. You’d think after living here for so long, you’d be used to the oppressive air by now, but you still had breathing issues. Which is why you had two albuterol inhalers for your asthma—one in your purse and one on the counter in the kitchen. Your kitchen was in the middle of your apartment and made the most sense logistically as to where to keep it—it was the perfect distance whether you were coming from the bedroom or the living room.

You had only really had a bad asthma attack once before, and you knew that you had a good 5-10 seconds before you’d lose consciousness. But that was also dependent on how much you panicked; if your brain went into overdrive, then you’d start breathing harder and you’d run out of air faster. It was all about mind over matter, but sometimes, even with mild attacks, it was hard to not panic. It was the natural response to not being able to breathe.

Collapsing onto the couch, you turned your laptop on, hoping to just relax with some funny videos on youtube for the night until your boyfriend, Sonny, came home. Since becoming an ADA, he was coming home earlier than when he was a detective. Though he usually brought cases home with him, working on the coffee table until late in the evening. You didn’t mind; at least you could sit with him, keep each other company, even talk when he wasn’t super invested. Plus, you loved when he’d stand in front of you, running you through his closing arguments or his cross as if you were a witness.

***********************

You lost track of time as you laughed heartily at a video, your laughter erupting out of you. You clutched your stomach in pain, tears in your eyes as you laughed. Then, you went to suck in a lungful of air. But nothing happened. You tried again and got a weird rasping sound in your throat. Your eyes went wide as you realized what had happened; you had laughed so hard, you were having an asthma attack. Panic swept through you and you sprung to your feet. But it had been a while now—seconds, though they stretched on—without air, and you were suddenly light-headed. Your lungs burned and it was like a sledgehammer was being pressed upon your chest. You gasped for breath but got nothing in return. Glancing through your fading vision at the kitchen, you took one step, then another, your senses slowly turning off before darkness overtook you.

***

Sonny walked down the hallway to the apartment he shared with you, whistling a tune. Today had gone surprisingly well, and he was off much earlier than he expected, with the weekend stretched before him. He even left all his case files at work, not bothering to work anymore once he left the office for the night.

Digging his key out of his pocket, he went to unlock the door. There was a loud thud from inside the apartment, and Sonny froze.

“Doll?” he called out. He pressed his ear to the door, his hand fumbling for the keyhole. There was no response, and it made his panic rise like bile in his throat. His hand was shaking so badly, he had to steady it with his other hand to get the key in. But in his hurry, he turned it too hard, snapping the key in the keyhole.

Sonny took a step back, braced himself, then kicked the door open, the wood splintering. He rushed in, glancing around until he found you, laying on your side, unmoving.

“Merda! Stai bene?” he asked, making his way over to you. Sonny knelt down, rolling you onto your back. Your chest was barely moving, and you were rasping with every breath. He knew about your asthma, but he had never seen you like this and had not expected it.

Sonny hurried to the kitchen, snatching your inhaler off the counter. He rushed back to you, your breathing much more shallow now, even after a few seconds.

“Fanculo, fanculo…come funziona di nuovo?” he muttered to himself, shaking the inhaler in his hand. He’d never needed to use it before, and you showed him how so long ago…. He ripped the cap off, placing it gently in your mouth. Feeling like he was hurting rather than helping, he plugged your nose as he pressed the cylinder with the medicine down, hearing the spray go into your mouth.

He waited, counting in his head to ten, all the while mumbling, “merda, merda, merda,” over and over again like a mantra. Once he hit ten, he released your nose and took the inhaler from your mouth. Slowly, you started taking deeper and deeper breaths, and your eyelids fluttered before opening.

***

Your chest was on fire and your throat burned as you came to, groggy and disoriented. Though, your mind was rushing, in the way that only your asthma medication did to you—it was a breathable steroid/adrenaline. When your eyes focused, you saw Sonny leaning over you, looking worried to death. But when he saw your eyes opened, a wide grin of relief spread across his face.

“Fanculo! Non farlo di nuovo!” he said, helping you to sit up.

You winced at the motion, giving him a look. “W-what? You’re speaking Italian, Dom.”

“I-I know…I do that when I’m scared. It calms me.”

You chuckled lightly, but grimace as pain broke through your chest. “That’s not helpful when I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Never mind; can you get up? I need to take you to the hospital—”

“No,” you replied. “I’m fine—I’ll be fine. Just…help me to the couch.”

Sonny gave you a hard look before he helped you stand, guiding you to the couch. “You should still go to the hospital; who knows how long you were on the ground without air?”

“Was I still breathing when you used the inhaler?” you asked. You held out your hand for it, and Sonny passed you the little piece of plastic that had just saved your life.

“Y-yeah, but barely—”

“Then I’m fine.” You glanced at Sonny, who was gearing up for an argument, and you sighed. “If I were to go to the hospital right now, they’ll either do nothing or just give me another dose of albuterol, Dom. Honestly, I’m fine, okay?” He still looked willing to argue, so you added, “I know it must’ve been…bad, seeing me on the ground like that. But I promise you I’m okay.”

Sonny let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with both hands. “Okay. I trust your judgement with your own medical issues.” He sat down on the couch next to you. “But run me through how to use the inhaler again—I wanna make sure I did it right. And please explain to me what the hell happened.”

You chuckled, raising the inhaler—you were going to take a second dose, anyway, to get rid of the pain in your chest. Sonny watched intently, happy to find that even in his panic, he had, in fact, done it correctly. As you held your breath, letting the medication work its way into your lungs, your eyes travelled to the front door, still ajar, the frame in pieces.

“Sonny, what the fuck?” you coughed out.

His eyes followed yours and he swallowed. “I, uh, I forgot I did that,” he replied, smiling sheepishly.

“Well now what do we do? We can’t leave our place open like this,” you glanced at the time; it was late, and no hardware store would be open for new doors. And you were pretty sure your landlord was going to be pissed.

“It’s fine; I can make it so it looks closed. If you don’t feel safe, we can go to a hotel until I fix it tomorrow,” Sonny said, standing. You nodded and he was off, packing an overnight bag for you both.

*******************

By the time you were at the hotel, you were exhausted. The effects of the medication had run its course, and you just wanted to sleep. Sonny, of course, didn’t allow you carry anything as he led you to your room. He swiped the keycard, letting you in first, and you all but collapsed onto the bed.

“You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Your voice was muffled as you replied, and he asked again. Turning your head to the side, you mumbled, “fine, just tired.”

“It’s late; let’s get in bed.” Sonny stripped quickly, then helped you stand, gently pulling your shirt up and off. Once in just your panties, you crawled under the covers, curling onto your side. Sonny got in behind you, wrapping himself around you. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, too, Dom,” you whispered back. Mercifully, you fell asleep almost instantly, the long day wearing you out.

But Sonny hardly slept, afraid that he’d wake up to you no longer breathing. Instead, he laid there, cradling you in his arms, listening to your soft breaths, the sound music to his ears. He dozed off and on, but mostly, he just held you, trying not to tear up as he thought about what might’ve happened if he had worked his normal hours, staying late in the office. He also thought about the other thing he packed in the overnight bag, hidden deep underneath everything else, for fear of it being stolen from your apartment as well as the fear of your finding it.

Inside a sock, rolled up and shoved underneath everything else, was a little box. And in that box was the most perfect engagement ring that Sonny knew you’d love. He’d been planning to propose around your birthday, but now, with that near-death scare, he was thinking that he should just do it now. He was off the next two days, and you were already planning to do dinner tomorrow night. Would it be weird timing now? But at the same time, life was short; today proved that. As the sun came up, streaming through the drawn curtains, Sonny made up his mind.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

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