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citrinesparkles · 3 years

Text

welcome home.

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 2,086 words. notes: requested by an incredibly flattering anon as part of my hundred followers celebration! thank you again for the feedback, and for enabling me :) also was subconsciously influenced by this piece. warnings: arguing, discussion of danger, reader gets accidentally threatened, patching up wounds, lots more swearing than my usual (but it's all mild language). angst and comfort, i think. super dialogue heavy. this is so long and a little (lot) messy just. prepare yourself

"man," a robotic voice echoed dangerously through the dark living room, sending chills through you. "did you pick the wrong apartment."

luckily, the voice was familiar. "um, the one i live in?"

he choked out your name, startled, and you flicked on the light switch to find him frozen in place with a gun in his hand.

"right." you said tensely, glancing at it- which made him jerk his hand down, shoving the gun into its holster as though it burned him- and looking back up at the eyes of his helmet. "so, uh, i'll turn a light on next time."

"you shouldn't be home yet," he said stiffly.

"i texted you like, three hours ago to let you know i'd be home a day early."

he swore quietly. "my phone's in the river."

"how did it- you know what, at least that explains the radio silence. you didn't think to have someone else- anyone else- let me know?"

"uh." he paused, tensing almost imperceptibly for a moment. "no. i was, uh, i was busy. i'm sorry."

"busy, huh?" something felt very wrong, and not just the fact that he had nearly shot you. "okay, i'll bite, busy with what?"

"nothing important."

the sinking feeling in your stomach intensified and your eyes narrowed dangerously. "important enough that you forgot to tell me you weren't dead in an alley somewhere, when you knew i'd be texting to check in anyway. leaving me worrying in a hotel room in another city."

"nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to worry about." you were really getting sick of the sound of his modulator, but he continued before you could say anything. "go back to what you were doing, babe."

"yeah... uh, no." you stepped forwards and he flinched back defensively, making you freeze. "seriously, what is up with you tonight?"

"noth-"

"jason, i promise if you say nothing one more time, i'm going to lose my mind."

he shifted his foot back slightly, and you took a deep breath.

"okay," you conceded, raising your hands up in surrender and moving backwards yourself. "respecting your space now. that wasn't my best decis-"

your voice cut out when something under his jacket caught your eye.

something red.

"holy crap, jason, what the hell?"

he winced quietly. "you weren't supposed to be home yet, okay?"

"take that stupid helmet off already, would you?" you snapped, already moving to get the first aid kit.

"i would've gone somewhere else if i'd known, okay?" his voice, now clear and crisp without the filter, followed you down the hall.

"that does not make this better!"

"can you please not yell at me right now?"

you dashed back into the room, shooting a vicious glare at him. "jacket."

he slid it off gingerly, dropping it on the couch next to his helmet.

"can you get the armor, or do i need to help?"

even despite the domino mask he was wearing, you could tell he was rolling his eyes. "if i couldn't do it on my own, why would i have come here if i didn't think you'd be home?"

"hm," you took the piece he handed you and carefully set it on the couch, "maybe because you're a stubborn jackass?"

he grunted, sliding his undershirt off and passing it to you. "i don't wanna stain the couch with that."

"your priorities suck."

"it's the nicest piece of furniture we own!"

"it's still a couch!"

"it was expensive!"

"oh for crying out loud-" you threw your hands up again, this time in frustration. "fine! fine. i'll go put this in the tub and get a soak going. you-" you shoved the kit towards him pointedly- "start washing that off."

"how come you're calling the shots?" he snapped back petulantly.

"because my torso's in one piece."

"i have way more experience with this, i should be making the decisions here."

"oh, of course, my apologies!" your voice was absolutely dripping in sarcasm. "what, pray tell, would you have us do?"

he scowled at you for a moment before reaching for the first aid kit and flicking the lid open. "whatever."

you turned on your heel, stomping into the bathroom.

the shirt got thrown into the tub and the tap got tossed all the way on, and as the water crashed into the gray fabric, you took the opportunity to squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply.

you opened your eyes a minute later, finding the water dyed a rusty almost-red from blood.

his blood.

you turned off the tap- gently pushed the handle, this time, the fire in your chest now largely extinguished- and made your way back to the living room to find him running a rag over the space below his ribs.

"may i?" you asked softly, stopping a few feet away and holding a hand out to him.

his jaw clenched and relaxed three times in quick succession, but he finally sighed and dropped his shoulders before holding the rag out. "yeah, c'mere."

you worked in silence, being as gentle as possible. jerking your hand back and mumbling apologies when he hissed.

"s'okay, comes with the territory."

you pressed the alcohol-soaked towel back against him, and he sighed.

"that was stupid, huh."

a small laugh escaped you. "it so was."

"can we..."

"try that again?"

"yeah."

you pulled back, standing up straight to meet his eyes. "only if i can take the dumb mask off of you."

"i thought you liked the mask," he teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"jason."

he chuckled, wincing again when it jostled his wounds. "ouch. uh, yeah, mask. g'head."

you gently pulled it from his face, setting it neatly on his other gear before running your thumbs across the line of adhesive it left on his cheekbones. "hi there."

"hey." he leaned into your touch, vibrant eyes fluttering halfway shut. "so uh, welcome home."

"thanks. could've done without the gun, though."

a choking sound tore from his throat, his eyes flying back open. "holy shit, baby, i almost-" he jerked back from you, no regard for his side. "you almost- shit, shit, are you- i'm so sorry, i didn't-"

"okay, woah, hey-"

"i could have killed you."

it was a whisper, horrified and harsh, and while it was technically true, his tone teetered on the edge of a dark space you had seen before and really didn't want him falling back into.

"yeah."

you desperately searched for the right thing to say, rejecting variations of "but hey, you didn't actually", "maybe you should be more careful about waving a gun at people", and one particularly unhelpful "no shit, sherlock".

finally, you settled on a quiet, calm "but i'm still right here, okay?"

his hand flew up to cover his mouth, doing absolutely nothing to hide the near panic written on his features. "i could have killed you."

"okay, so, in the future, we'll... we'll uh, we'll come up with some kind of system for letting you know when i'm home, or something."

"oh, like a phone?" he asked harshly. "the one i was stupid and sloppy enough to dunk in the harbor?"

"that wasn't- i'm guessing that you had a lot on your plate." you waved the cold, bloody towel in your hand at his wounds. it made him curl in on himself slightly, stepping backwards again until his back hit the arm of the couch.

"no excuses. i could have killed you."

"i-"

"no, i almost shot without saying anything!" he exclaimed, brow furrowed and eyes stormy. "i thought someone had broken in, and i got so- i don't even know, damn territorial or some stupid shit- that i almost put a bullet between your eyes. i could have-"

"jason!"

he screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head, roughly tugging his fingers through his hair. "i almost-"

"but you didn't. okay?" every fiber of your being wanted to hold him, to tug him into you and put his hand against your ribs and show him you were okay and breathing, heart still pumping, but he looked enough like a cornered animal that you half expected him to bite you if you tried. "c'mon, jaybird. a life like yours, can you really afford almosts?"

"life like mine, i can't afford to let anyone close to me. apparently, if the goons and thugs don't kill you, i will."

"that's not-"

"what if i hadn't said something?" he snapped venomously. "what if i'd lost more blood and was loopy from it? what if i'd come home with a concussion- again- and didn't think past 'point and shoot'?"

"jason," you finally interjected. "you think i haven't thought about that?"

his eyes, grim and vicious and so full of emotion that you thought you could drown in them, dropped to the floor.

"because it's not a secret that your life is risky. you're risky. i know that. but you're worth every ounce of danger, okay? i'm choosing this, choosing you, knowing full well what i'm getting into, because you're worth all of it."

"i'm not worth any of it."

"that's not your call to make."

"it-"

"you think i need you to make my choices for me?"

"no, of course not."

"you think im stuck here?"

"do you feel like you are?"

"absolutely not." you inched forward again. "i'm here because i want to be."

"...i just... i don't..."

"don't want me to get hurt?"

he finally looked back up at you, eyes watery and jaw tense. "or worse."

"i know, baby. i know," you sighed. "but that's part of life, right? and if the hurt's inevitable, i want the rest of my time to be as nice as possible, and you make my life better. make me better."

"by putting you in danger?"

"it's gotham, handsome, i'm gonna be in danger either way. at least with you, i know i have someone looking out for me. right?"

"always," he said immediately.

"okay then." you took the last step between the two of you slowly, watching for any resistance. meeting none, you brushed your knuckles against his. "i can't think of anywhere i'd feel safer."

"you know that's crazy, right?"

you hummed quietly. "nah."

"i'm being serious."

"me too."

he studied your face silently. you smiled softly at him.

finally, a sigh escaped him and he scooted his hand forward, wrapping his index finger around your own and squeezing gently. "you're sure you want this? i can set you up with a place downtown for a bit. you'd never have to see me again, never have to worry about... all of this."

"i've never been more sure of anything." you said it firmly, confidently, letting the words hang in the air for a few moments before popping one eyebrow up playfully. "why, need to make room for a side piece?"

a startled choking sound escaped him. "excuse me?"

"i mean, when you were talking about being busy, it felt kinda suspicious."

"what is wrong with you?" he asked, exasperation and laughter coating his voice.

"listen, you were being evasive!" his head fell forwards, resting on your shoulder as he laughed.

"i didn't want you to know i was bleeding all over the place!"

"why, didn't want me to worry?"

"exactly!"

you reached your free hand up, gently resting it on the back of his head and playing with his hair. "then maybe, just maybe, you should have gotten someone to tell me your phone went for a swim."

"fair enough."

you stood quietly for a long time, running your fingers through his hair and enjoying the feeling of his breath against your collar.

"i..." he muttered, pulling back to look in your eyes. "i don't think- um. i don't think i'm..." he groaned, gaze darting to the ceiling. "i love you. but the minute you have enough of- of all of this-"

"i won't."

"but if you do, i'll... i'll understand, okay?"

you squeezed his finger gently. "okay." you inhaled deeply, dropping the bloody towel you were still clutching and slid your hand forward to hold his completely. "can we get a bandage on that and go to bed, now?"

"....yes please."

---

"wait!" you yelled, throwing the first aid kit haphazardly onto the bathroom counter and racing after him into the bedroom, where he whirled around with wide eyes. "i love you too! i never said it back- i love you too."

"don't yell like that- i thought something was wrong!"

"me not saying it back is urgently wrong, jason!"

#citrine writes #this was. this was a monster #i sure hope you enjoy because i'm unsure how quality it is #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #imagines #dc #dc imagines #dc imagine #blood cw #medical cw

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lostinanothersmemories · 2 years

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Thoughts on the shifter polycule + Darlin???

I personally think it’s pretty cool 👍

What do you get with four werewolves one stealth and two humans?

absolute chaos. also im sorry this became nsfw so quickly in my head. this is also very darlin centric so anyways

18+

Darlin was the last to join the polycule mostly because of their absence. It was Angel fault mostly dragging them to what was technically date night for the group. Movie nights, camping trips Angel was bringing their plus one the whole time.

Darlin isn’t stupid they realized they were seventh wheeling but the moment they tried to pull away and give them space Angel latched on like an octopus. It was impressive honestly the shifters had known them for a while yet they didn’t bend for anyone like they did for Angel. Giving in with a barely hidden smile to their whims.

Angel had brought it up before of course first to david who expressed slight worry that Angel didn’t really know what Darlin was like. To prove him wrong they managed to get Darlin talking near straight for about thirty minutes about themself which was absolutely unheard of. Stories that should alarm or worry people yet Angel listened. Darlin realized they were getting feelings for the human and tried to pull away again underestimating the stubborn mate.

It was very dramatic how they confessed basically attempting to run away again only for angel to emphasize how theres nothing but open arms and finally kissing them. David’s kiss was more of a “finally you idiot” Milo decided his kiss was the perfect time to introduce them to the fear of being dipped. Asher was mostly spur of the moment after Darlin got him a gift and in his excitement kissed them. Sweetheart absolutely torments them and kisses them right after scaring them. Babe grabs them suddenly by the collar just to get it out of the way.

It is a long day when they realize that Darlin isn’t exclusively a dom. They swear one whine and its like pin drop quiet in the entire house. David who was happy to have two of his mates making out half on his lap freezes commenting with a look. “I know what Angel’s whines sound like…” They immediately try to hide their face in embarrassment yet gets pulled into their alphas lap. With them already groaning out his name in annoyance. They had plenty time to get off or to even stop his hands from slipping between their legs underneath the borrowed pants they were wearing. The gasp pulls Angel to kiss them again.

David and Darlin is a pair that usually requires no walking for an hour at least because they lean into rougher sex. There was almost a moment where someone wanted to check on them after they thought the pair were done for the night. Darlin tied down spread eagle and as David was trying to untie them he happens to tickle their foot leading to “Hey watch the feet asshole!” David despite used to their mouth pulls their leg keeping it right where he wants it and asks “Or what?” Darlin is an idiot and tells him “Or I’ll bite your dick off now quit it” It leads to a whole nother round that requires david to go get them water halfway through as well as a whole cool down in between. Everyone watches in horror as he goes back in to tame the beast.

Milo and Babe all have a field day with the realization Sweetheart and Angel certainly enjoy it but Asher talked too much shit and ended up in trouble as well.

#redacted asmr #nsft #…shaw pack

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warmau · 3 years

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not knowing what to say isn't a foreign feeling to you, yet when you come face to face with ten outside his apartment on this summer morning, you are almost too petrified to even string a sentence together

he's really just........leaving

ten shines a big smile and from the open door you hear kun's exasperated voice asking why in the world ten is packing up his entire existence for a program that's going to last two months

"you look nervous"

ten jokes first, running a hand through his dark hair which he's spent the colder months growing out

"im the one going to a different country and yet you look like you might turn green"

his laughter tickles you and you force yourself out of the weird, frozen feeling, for his sake

"im not nervous - it's just this is our first summer apart since what, highschool?"

ten leans against the frame of his door and lets kun scuttle past him with a scowl

yangyang and hendery bounce after him with ten's insane amount of luggage

"yeah but it's two months, not two decades. plus....you know how much ive always wanted to do this."

right. and here you are being selfish.

"of course, i mean it's literally the birthplace of ballet."

"technically that's italy, but france is a close second."

"i hate you"

ten pulls you into his arms before you register that this is your goodbye hug

"i'll miss you too."

kun drives everyone to the airport, he complains and cries the most.

sicheng gives you a knowing look when ten takes your wrist in his hand and tucks your arm between his.

you ignore the look, and focus on ten. on him. and then - when the switchboard pops up his flight info - he gives a bubbly and excited

"ive gotta go!"

and then summer starts, just as he's gone

"so when are you going to tell him you're in love with him."

sicheng brings the big gulp he stole from hendery up to his lips and you keep your eyes closed behind your sunglasses

"sorry, yukhei's not my type."

"you know im not talking about yukhei."

you dig your fingers into the sand beside your towel, the beach is already so noisy so you pretend you don't hear sicheng, but you still feel him looking.

you guess a part of it is true, you love ten. who doesn't?

is that the core of the issue then, that ten is so available and loveable and charming, that it makes him also unattainable?

or at least, unattainable to you.

you hear your phone buzz inside your bag and sicheng is being dragged into the water by the rowdy rest of your friend group

it could be a text from ten?

your mind excites, but you put out that fire

it's probably just spam.

ten does text and even video call the first two or so weeks while he's away

you get blurry photos of food at cafes and the eiffel tower, random fancy looking dogs being walked on the small, cramped streets

ten's connection is kind of bad - but he still gleams through the fuzzy facetime camera as he shows you around the room the dance academy has provided

pangs of his happiness and excitement seep into you

and then there's the first sign of worry comes knocking and twirling through his door

a group of other dancers, all beautiful and strong, asking ten - from the limited amount of french you catch - if he's done, they're waiting for him to go to a show with them

ten gives you a scattered, quick goodbye. he says he'll video call again.

all you get is an update text almost five days later that has no pictures attached just a;

im ok - by the way i totally miss eating hot chips with you at midnight. ive had like a banana smoothie and that's it.

sicheng and kun are the first to pick up on the shift, you are quietly withdrawing to yourself

nothing makes you laugh

ten doesn't reply to your question about what the paris metro looks like, actually he doesn't even read it

kun nearly tugs hendery's ear red when he shares a snap story of ten pressed cheek to cheek with his new dancer friends in front of the louvre when you're in the same room

the thing is you are not jealous of any of them.

you don't go around trying to find their facebooks, clicking on their instagram profiles, comparing you and them.

you are just sad to your bones that they will understand ten in such a way that no matter how long you two have been friends

you will never, truly know

"you're his best friend"

sicheng reasons on the phone as you stare up at the wall above your desk, littered in old pictures and clippings and your gaze catches on the ticket stub from ten's first-ever solo dance performance

it had been a talent show in highschool.

it had been the first time you saw ten perform outside the corner of his cramped bedroom or the glimpse you caught meeting up with him outside the dance academy

he's in paris, he's with people who love it so much more than i do - they love dancing like he loves dancing.

i cannot understand that.

"i think you were right sicheng."

"im always right."

i do love him. when am i going to tell him?

you hang up after sicheng has his i told you so moment and stare at your screen

a notification flashes across the screen and it's a text from ten

the trains here are blue. i miss you.

you want to reply right away, so you open the message and start typing

i miss you too. actually, i think i finally understand why people who are in love are so hurt when they're suddenly left without their other half and ten you are my o-

you delete the sentence and make a face

nice. i miss you too.

you don't send it - or at least you forget to because your fingers are shaking and you exit out of the messaging app before checking

abandoning your phone, you turn on your side and stretch your hand out to reach the edge of the bed

there's enough space between you and it for someone to fit, so you remember the countless times ten has laid there

smiling and laughing and tickling your face with his sleeping breath

you can't even recall a conversation because there have been hundreds

suddenly you feel a warmth creep up your skin

hundreds of opportunities to tell him - and each time i chose to be a coward.

"you should write him a letter."

"this isn't a movie, what - you think im going to write a letter and he'll jump on the first plane from france to come to my side?"

sicheng cocks an eyebrow as if to say it is a possibility

"no. im not writing a letter. i'll suck it up and confess when he comes back."

you somehow end up writing a letter.

maybe because you really do want to just send a long text spilling your mushy, soft, pink feelings

but you know that's just not what ten deserves

he deserves (and you do too, but you won't admit this) a face to face confession

so you start retelling the moments that flutter up in your heart whenever you think about him

how he makes the room brighter when he's in it, how he dances with every bone, joint, muscle in his body - how he approaches it with no inhibition and true devotion that paints its way across his face when he practices, how he fits perfectly into the hole that grows more massive every day you don't see him

standing there across the hall - coffee in hand, gym bag with his scuffed dance shoes

by the time you're finished - the letter is longer than you imagine. there are parts crossed and scribbled out, repetitive thoughts, and stupid little comments and metaphors that compare ten to flowers or clouds or anything else pretty in nature

you cringe at yourself, but you do feel better

it could be your outline for when the time to actually tell him comes.

you shove the papers into an envelope, write ten's name and the address of his parisian dance academy just for the irony

and then make the mistake of letting it sit on your desk

in a matter of days, it has been swallowed by a bunch of other papers and trinkets

and when you're rushing around your room trying to get ready for another adventure to the beach - sicheng clinks the lollipop against his teeth and fishes it out - curious at the stamp

"do you want me to mail this?"

he asks and you're trying to find those sunglasses you literally just bought and grumble that sure, whatever - you'll meet him out by kun's car.

halfway to the beach, you turn in horror from the passenger seat to look at sicheng in the back

your eyes like saucers and a tremor in a voice

"wait. what did you ask me back in my room?"

sicheng's big smile is red from the candy, "your letter to ten."

and there comes the second pang of dread and worry that takes the overwhelming shape of your summer

oh my god - oh my god - maybe the letter won't even make it. i mean it's a letter to france....it'll take at least a month to get there. wait - it probably didn't even have a stamp on it. oh god maybe the address was totally off and some poor stranger is about to be subjected to my very incoherent feelings.....

every day you look at your phone and there's no texts or emails or anything from ten

his social media has gone quiet too

you throw your dignity down a well and ask all your friends if they've heard from him and they all scratch their heads and say no, it's been maybe a week since they did

your stress then turns from your love letter to a possibility that ten is in trouble

he kind of thrives from attention so it is very weird that he's so off-grid

you decide finally, on the day that it's been exactly a month and one day since he was gone, to call

you hover over the facetime button - should i text him first?

with a yelp, you nearly drop and crack your screen when ten's name flashes across the screen

you settle your breathing and tell yourself he hasn't gotten the letter, there's no way - since when has snail mail been efficient?

you answer and are about to ask what's up when ten waves something into the camera

"i got your letter."

maybe you go into rigor. because ten's eyebrows knit and he asks if your connection is ok, you aren't saying anything

you don't know if it's just because you miss him so much that you're able to drag yourself back into consciousness or because you are curious, in the depths of your mind, what his reaction will be

"o-oh. right- i-"

ten frowns and you think it's coming. the rejection is coming.

"is that why you didn't answer my text? you sent the letter instead?"

"your text?"

"yeah, i said i missed you and you read it and never responded."

a peek of a smile stretches on his pretty, bare face

"i never thought you were so romantic to send a letter."

something burns on your skin but you just try to make sure your hand holding the phone doesn't shake

"im not - i just, it was dumb sicheng said i should write it because - i don't know. he's the romantic, blame him."

"you're the one that said i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter."

"oh god"

that smile turns into a grin

"and that my dancing manages to cast a spell on you."

you hide your expression by turning your face

"are you going to re-read the whole thing to me?"

"should i, you're so poetic."

"don't make fun of me."

your voice is serious this time, small and huddled, because you mean it

worse than being told he doesn't feel the same is to be ridiculed for holding him in your heart like this for so long

"im not making fun of you, the letter is beautiful."

you still can't look at him, it's so ten to be kind before he's cruel

"i could never write something like that - so i thought i would just call you and say it."

you don't need to love song yourself into telling me you just see me as a friend

"i love you."

your head whips back so fast your phone drops and you curse and ten can't help but laugh

"sorry, sorry -what did you say?"

he runs a hand through his dark hair, the lighting in his room is dim and illuminates him perfectly

a large white t-shirt engulfs his slender shoulders as he sits up against the wall

"i love you. i know it's corny to confess over facetime, but im guessing it's more forgivable than text?"

a bubble bursts in your stomach and it makes you feel lightheaded and inhumanely blissful all at once

"i love you too."

"more then friends right, because your letter had this part about kissing im very interested in."

you bite back your lip and nod, both embarrassed that he'd bring that part up too but also seeing ten - your close friend, your secret love - talk about kissing you

makes some of the neurons in your body go haywire

"good, i seriously was scared you might have been pranking me with thi-"

"i would never. im not hendery."

"oh how are they, ive been super busy with the practice for a review so i haven't talked to anyone."

another thing you love about him, he keeps everyone in. he leaves none of his friends behind. he pretends like he couldn't have a care in the world, but he cares more than anyone else.

"he's ok, he almost crashed kun's car yesterday."

ten shrugs, "expected."

and like that - everything is still somehow the same. there is no awkward phase after you've talked about your feelings for each other at all.

because your love doesn't come as a one hit punch because ten is beautiful, although he is to an unfair degree

it comes from the experience of being around him. having so much of him. maybe even getting a little addicted.

you do talk more on the phone, no more long pauses even though ten's practices get more grueling and you tell him to take his time to rest

but he's sweaty on the practice room floor - texting you - telling you everything is sore but the thought of seeing you soon makes it all better

it's three days before ten is scheduled to fly back that he has his review and you are biting your fingernails waiting for him to tell you about it

when you get a youtube link at like three in the morning - you click it and someone has recorded ten's performance

somehow, he looks more graceful than you've ever seen him

a new text comes in when it's almost done

'i think i did well - can i get a reward?'

'you'll get a really good one when you're home'

he sends a winking emoji and you can't fall asleep after because you wonder what he's expecting, you'd meant a kiss - had he meant more?

you wouldn't mind that at all.

xiaojun is being pulled away from the conveyer belt by kun and hendery is asking sicheng for a sip of his starbucks as you all wait for ten's plane to land in the airport lobby

you two have not told anyone - mostly because you know there will be endless questions you won't have answers too and sicheng might literally never let you live it down

so you wait for ten to be here so you can suffer together

you see the gates from his flight open and sicheng mutters that you look like you're going to pop like a goddamn balloon

for once in your life, you don't snide back at him, folding your hands in front of you and tippy-toeing to see over the crowd

and then, like seeing him for the first time all the years ago when you first met, ten comes out

hendery and xiaojun try to go for a running jump, but the older members hold them back because everyone can sense whats coming

you dash toward him and ten doesn't stay still either - you two collide so hard it almost hurts, but you don't care at all

ten's duffel bag falls over his shoulder and your hands are wrapped around his neck before he can even say your name

it's a first kiss that couldn't be more characteristically fit for you

sweet, big smiles tasted on lips, and interrupted by none other than your group of friends gasping in a symphony of shock

except for sicheng - he knew

ten tastes like you imagine he would taste, maybe because in smaller ways you've already had doses of the sunshine that radiates off him before

he keeps his hands wrapped around your waist as he looks down into your eyes

"mon amour"

"is that really all you learned in france?"

"ummm yeah, i don't know how to say let's get out of here and back to my place even though im pretty sure someone said that to me at some point."

you pout, "don't try to make me jealous."

"never!"

ten chuckles as you press your face into his neck and hug him close

the only way you get pulled apart is because someone (kun) reminds you all you're still at the PUBLIC airport

the drive back is a frenzy and everyone wants to know everything and not about just you two - because you're "two" now - but about france and traveling and ten's dancing

like you'd sensed - nothing has really changed

just this time, your fingers are locked in tens. and the warmth you longed for in silence is suddenly all out in the open.

funnily enough, you and ten don't ever write letters to each other again.

ten just doesn't like writing - it takes too much sitting down

and you are horrified everytime he fishes your love confession out of the memory box and dangles it above your head as leverage

it's how he convinced you into adopting the first cat. now you two have three.

so when you and him are deciding the best way to let all your friends know about your upcoming event you cross out mailed invitations

"we can make an email list."

your legs are thrown over his thighs on the sofa and he's resting the laptop on you them

"let's just make an instagram post: wedding in our backyard on thursday - you're invited."

ten pinches his nose

"we are not having a backyard wedding. we could not fit everyone in my dance company into it anyway."

you play with your engagement band and sigh

"fine, fine. what about.....we just call everyone and tell them. if we call kun right now he'll let all of the world know by the end of the week."

ten agrees with a hum, but then starts typing and you lean over to see

"bulk wedding invites? you're giving in?"

he closes the laptop and tosses it to the side, easily and gently pushing you down onto your back to hover over you with a small content sound

"i am. but we don't even have to write the letters - some company will do it for us."

his lips are inches from yours and all of a sudden you're young again - waiting to kiss him for the first time at that airport

"you know we'll still have to write vows right."

he is about to kiss you, he's so close and your eyes are closing

"i'll just read your letter outl-"

"TEN NO!"

he laughs, laughs until he finally does kiss you and then laughs again when he pulls back - the overflowing amount of love that exists in that moment is potent

you tell him to get over that old thing, but he shakes his head

"never, when again in all the lives i live is someone going to say i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter?"

#i know his bday was in february please im still working through them cries #ten au #ten imagines #ten scenarios #nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv scenarios #sfw #nostolgic!au #ten #member: ten #im sicheng through all this

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andromedasstarship · 3 years

Text

in the stars - chapter 3

photo credit - unknown

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, depictions of murder/violence, angst, verbal fighting, drinking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking (cigarettes)

summary - “If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought this was what ‘seeing red’ meant

a/n - hi besties! im so sorry this update took so long! i really wanted to make it perfect and was struggling with putting this together. to make it up this chapter is a whopping 5.9k words so uh enjoy lol!

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3

chapter 2 // chapter 4

-----

You had to physically stop yourself- gripping the desk chair beside you so hard your knuckles turned white- from following Aaron out the office door and demanding he make sense of the whole good cop- ha!- bad cop show he’d been putting on since the two of you had been horribly reunited outside of the police station.

This had been the second instance of him implying or accusing you of somehow worsening the case. And he hadn’t even been in LA for over 24hrs. It wasn’t fair, you thought, angrily grumbling to yourself about all the different ways you’d love to give him a piece of your mind. If he’d been a regular man, that you’d never met before, you probably wouldn’t consider his current behavior to be so- out of pocket? disgraceful? insulting?- offensive. You knew he had a reputation for being...,a hardass on the job, but that didn’t mean he had to go overboard in his treatment towards you. Maybe he wasn’t going overboard, maybe this was just how he treated every- you weren’t sure exactly how to define yourself in the case- witness? Maybe this is just what his team expected in terms of his behavior towards people he didn’t know.

But he did know you, he knew you quite well. He knew you well enough to know you’d never purposely attempt to slow the case down. Even without his fancy profiler skills, you were certain Aaron Hotchner knew every little thing about you. Or at least he used to.

And while Aaron may know everything there was to know about you, you were beginning to doubt if you actually knew anything about him. As expected, over the past two months the case had been taking an extreme toll on you; constantly looking over your shoulder and worrying that someone was lurking behind every corner. What made it worse, was that it was yet another situation that required you to keep a secret. You ‘had’ the officers at the station and your agent, but besides them you were dealing with this completely on your own. Making the situation about yourself felt wrong, but you couldn’t even begin to explain how hurt you felt at Aaron's accusations that you were somehow more part of the problem than you were a victim. Yes, you hadn’t gone up to him and explicitly told him how badly you were hurting, but it’s not like it took a genius- or a profiler- to reach that conclusion themselves.

It hurt, to have someone whose validation you had once- still did- crave so much, suddenly act as if you were a ‘bad guy’. Maybe you were being dramatic, you thought. Maybe you were overreacting and reading far too deep into such short interactions. On the other hand, you reasoned that it was perfectly acceptable to have feelings. Before you could delve deeper into that mental tirade, a sharp knock on the doorframe grabbed your attention. Looking up, you saw JJ leaning halfway into the room.

“Sorry,” you said, awkwardly letting go of the chair, “I uh, got caught up with uh, just you know, thoughts about the case!” Smooth. You tried to put a cheery tone in your voice. You tried to subtly study her reaction as you walked over to her and it was clear she wasn’t exactly buying into your sudden happy attitude. She didn’t press you though, something you were grateful for. Instead she just moved out of the doorframe, letting you join her in the hallway.

“The rest of the team has split up already, would you like to start in the basement?” JJ asked. You had only spoken to her a couple times, briefly at that, but you already found great comfort in her presence; you could see why she held the position, her ability to comfort and connect with others was unbeatable. Definitely need to send JJ a case of wine as a gift.

You nodded dumbly, joining her in the hallway and taking her down towards your basement. Internally, you guessed the little ‘tour’ would only take an hour tops, considering all the little spiels you’d have to give about each room.

You felt a bit like when you went through airport security or when a police car was on a road you were driving on. That sinking feeling that somehow you were going to get in trouble even though you knew you didn’t have anything to hide. Damn Aaron. His apparent lowly opinion of you was definitely messing with your head. Oh well.

As you lead JJ towards the basement, you could vaguely hear the other agents throughout the house. A door opening here or the sound of papers rustling over there. You hadn’t exactly asked how they would be able to tell if something was missing or out of place. But honestly? You didn’t really care what the team did in your house, as long as they figured out how the unsub had gotten in there.

You’d already come to terms with the fact that the unsub had managed to steal your clothes and jewelry, but you just couldn’t shake the fact that he had gotten into your house. Part of you secretly wished he had pick-pocketed you on a busy street or was stealing stuff off a film set instead. It would’ve been equally as bad and creepy and horrifying, but it would’ve been worth still feeling safe in your own house.

Smacking the lightswitch on the wall behind you, the entire basement became illuminated. “So,” you started, really drawing out the word, “this is the basement. It’s technically one big open floor, but well,” you gestured lazily with your hand, “you can see it’s kinda still split up. There’s a movie room behind those doors right there.”

JJ stepped ahead of you, walking towards the high windows in the basement. You watched as she ran her fingers along the window edges, carefully going over each one. “Do these open?” She asked, turning back to look at you.

You quickly shook your head. “They’re mostly just for, like, decoration purposes.” You responded, giving a slight shrug. “I um, I’m not down here much unless I’m having people over. And those stairs we came down are the only way to get in here.” You added, thinking that’d probably be helpful.

JJ gave you that nice smile again and started towards the movie room. “I’m just gonna look in here real quick and then we can go back upstairs, okay?”

You stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, rolling back and forth from your heels to your tippy toes, awkwardly playing with your hands in front of yourself. You knew her movie room scan wouldn’t take wrong, there were zero windows in there and no other point of entry besides the door she had walked through.

Just as you expected, JJ came back out no longer than five minutes later. Once she got closer to you, you turned slowly on your heel and started back up the stairs. “We can start upstairs and then meet the rest of your team on the main level?” You offered.

“Lead the way.”

“There’s um, two ways to get upstairs. There’s that main staircase you saw in the foyer and also there’s a ‘servants stair’ in the back,” you said, making air quotes with your fingers at the ‘servants stair’ part, “I have people that work in the house sometimes, but it’s not an actual designated staircase for anyone.” You explained, unsure of why you were feeling so anxious.

“Why don’t we go up using the second set of stairs? Since I’ve already seen the main set.” JJ said.

You nodded dumbly again, and walked in the direction of the back stairs. Once upstairs, you gave the same room spiel to JJ about six times. This is ‘x’ room, yep those windows can open, nope no one regularly comes into this room, yes the balcony doors do lock from the inside.

Just as you thought earlier, the little tour took just a couple minutes under an hour. You and JJ were standing in your kitchen, both of you leaning against opposite countertops. According to JJ the whole team had agreed to meet up in your kitchen once they were done with their scans, so it seemed that you two were the first to finish. Also expected.

You were lucky you hadn’t run into Aaron the entire time. At times you could vaguely hear his voice coming from another room and all that did was pull on your heartstrings and remind you of when the two of you were together. Aside from the sadness factor, you still weren’t sure you could trust yourself to not yell at him as soon as you saw him again.

“That’s funny.” JJ said amusedly-more to herself than to you-, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What is?” You asked. She had moved from her spot by the countertops, to standing in front of your liquor wall, staring up at a bottle you couldn’t quite recognize from your position.

“Oh, just Agent Hotchner? Out there,” she said, gesturing broadly out to where the rest of the team might be, “he loves this brand of scotch. We joke sometimes that he’d pick it over us if he was given the choice. But apparently it’s super difficult to get. He started getting lucky a few years ago and found a way to buy it, but recently I guess that luck ran out and he hasn’t been able to find it anymore.”

Your eyes went wide at that. Yes. That scotch was super difficult to get and it was ridiculously expensive. And yes, Aaron loved the stuff. The two of you used to constantly argue over money. He hated that you were always the one paying for everything and had created a ‘rule’ that you weren’t allowed to buy him any gifts. Of course, you managed to find a way around that rule and found that this specific scotch was his gift achilles heel. So, you used to send him a steady supply while also keeping a bottle at your place for the rare occasions he was over.

“Oh?” You squeaked.

“Yeah, it’s super rare or something. They only make so many batches a year don’t they?” JJ asked, turning back to look at you.

You quickly pulled your emotions in when she turned towards you, just giving her your third dumb nod of the day. “Yep, super hard to get. Super super hard. I uh, got as a gift once, I don’t even like the stuff.”

“You should tell Hotch. I bet he’d pay pretty well for it.” She said with a laugh, shaking her head. Definitely will not be doing that.

----

Upstairs, Rossi and Hotch were looking through your upstairs office. While your downstairs office was more work based- you stored scripts and had meetings down there, etc.-, your upstairs office was used for your more ‘personal’ work tasks.

“If the unsub is taking her clothes, we might have better success scoping out her closet. See the potential entry and exit points from her room that the unsub must be taking.” Rossi proposed.

Hotch nodded at that, putting down the stack of fan mail he’d been flipping through, trying to find any repeats or ‘creepy’ letters. He made a mental note to have Reid come and read through the piles of other mail you had neatly stacked around the room.

Your attention to fanmail had been one of the things that had quickened the process of him falling in love with you. He had had his doubts in the beginning of you relationship- he had stereotyped you for sure-, your age and status giving him somewhat valid concerns that you’d be insanely disconnected from the normal world. You’d proved him wrong in many ways since the beginning, but one of those ways had been the many days you’d call him from this room, reading through every single letter you were sent and always making sure to send a small note back.

“Good idea, let’s go.” Hotch said. He walked out of office and didn’t think twice, his body automatically walking towards the room a few doors down from your bedroom. You didn’t keep your closet in your bedroom, you had actually put a little couch and sitting room in your bedroom closet space. Instead you’d taken an entire guest room and converted it into a full dressing room/closet that was a better fit for your needs.

As Hotch went straight into the room, he missed the narrow look Rossi was giving him from the doorframe. It only took a couple minutes, but eventually Hotch looked up, cocking an eyebrow at Rossi. “Are you going to come in?” He questioned.

“You knew her closet wasn’t in her room.” Rossi noted, amusement clear in his voice.

Hotch’s face paled, before he steeled his emotions back over. “I saw the clothes while walking past earlier and made the deduction.”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she Aaron?” Rossi teased, clearly finding a lot of enjoyment in this conversation.

“Dave,” Hotch groaned, running a hand over his face, “just, not now okay?” He asked, the desperation clear in his voice.

Rossi certainly didn’t have the entire story figured out, but he wasn’t dumb either, he could piece things together. As much as he’d love to keep busting Hotch over this, there was something about how gentle he had been with you in the conference room and his current clear discomfort that persuaded Rossi otherwise. Rossi grinned at Hotch and raised his hands in mock surrender.

“So, we know the unsub doesn’t have to necessarily be quiet, her room is at least what, 3-”

“Four and across the hall.” Hotch huffed out, not looking up to meet Rossi’s eyes.

“Four and across the hall away. So he doesn’t need to sneak past her if he’s coming in at night...”

----

Back in the kitchen, you turned your head at the sound of the back patio doors opening, showing Morgan and Spencer. Guess they’d be the second pair done with their house tour.

Just as you were about to open your mouth and offer the two of them something to drink, you noticed the rather grim expressions on both their faces. Upon better inspection, you saw Spencer was tightly gripping on to a dirty journal.

“What’s that?” You asked curiously, trying to get a better look at it.

“I found this uh, journal out by the edge of your property line. I think it may belong to the unsub.” Reid responded, giving you a tight lipped look.

It was terribly cliche, but you couldn’t help but gasp at that. Your eyes going wide and your mouth hanging open.

“I flipped through it, there’s nothing that clearly identifies him, but it seems like he was keeping track of your comings and goings. As well as keeping a list of the things he took from your house, we can cross check that list with-”

“Can I look at it?” You interjected, a morbid curiosity consuming your mind.

Reid gave an unsure glance at the two other agents in the room. “I think it’d be better for the rest of the team and I to look through the journal first, and make sure there’s nothing uh...upsetting in it.”

----

With the new revelations that the unsub had managed to break into your home multiple times, the team decided it would be best for at least one of them to be with you at the house at all times; during the day they would assign a plainclothes officer to discreetly sit watch. It was comical, the way they decided on the watch and then promptly assigned Aaron the first shift of the night.

You wondered why he agreed to it, knowing he could’ve easily pulled a seniority boss card and taken himself out of any and all future watch shifts as well. He probably didn’t want you to get closer with any of his agents, should you accidentally say something a bit too personal. He also probably assumed that with the late hour of the night, you’d immediately be going to bed or at least locking yourself away in your room for the rest of the night.

The team had stayed hours after their first walkthroughs of the house, the new list and notes from the unsub giving you all a better idea of what to look for. You had gone through the list of clothes and jewelry in front of the team, giving them a base description of what you assumed the unsub had meant, whether or not you had considered it missing and where you thought you’d last seen it in the house.

Unfortunately, whatever Aaron had been banking on wouldn’t be happening. You hadn’t been able to shake the sinking feeling that your house was no longer a home anymore. It was painfully cheesy, but you knew that trying to sleep would be futile. Nor did you really feel like being ‘alone’ in your room. That didn’t mean you were going to strike up a conversation with Aaron or ask him to play a board game or something, but you wouldn’t be shutting away from the rest of the night.

After the team left, you had gone upstairs and changed into a more comfortable outfit for the evening; just your trusty sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You were now walking back down the stairs and towards your kitchen; you grasped a lighter and your emergency cigarette pack in one hand. As you made your way into the kitchen, you could feel Aarons eyes on you from wherever he was seated in the living room. You pointedly ignored him, instead setting the pack and lighter down, freeing your hands so you could mix yourself your favorite drink.

Once your drink was prepped, you balanced all your things in your hands and made your way back through the living room and out the grand French doors that lead to your backyard. You walked over to one of your lounge chairs that overlooked the pool and had a beautiful view of the sky and bright lights of the city. You turned on one of your favorite playlists and made yourself comfy in the chair, lighting up one of the cigarettes.

With the first inhale, you felt your body relax. It was a horrible habit- you knew that-, but if there was ever a time to stress smoke, you reasoned it was probably now. Over the sound of your music, you faintly heard one of the doors open again, but you didn’t bother turning around.

“I thought you quit.” Aaron said, quite literally coming out of the shadows. Even though you didn’t turn to look at him, you could perfectly imagine him in your mind; probably leaning up against one of the legs of the cabana, arms tightly crossed and a deep scowl on his face.

“I did.” You replied plainly, blowing a steady stream of smoke out of your mouth. Using your free hand you picked your glass back off the chair side table, twirling it slowly. As you took a long sip, you could hear Aaron walk closer, not quite coming into view yet.

“Drinking and abusing substances in response to a traumatic situation is widely frowned upon.

“Thank you Surgeon General,” you said, rolling your eyes before adding, “no offense Agent, but right now, I don’t really think it matters.” You didn’t even bother attempting to argue that you were on your first drink and first smoke.

“It matters, when my team will be counting on you tomorrow. The expectation is that you’ll be a useful and legitimate resource.” Aaron said, voice tight.

“Do you really think I’m dumb enough to actually believe, that you believe that a single drink is going to render me useless?” You asked, finally turning your head so you could give him a pointed look. When he didn’t answer you rolled your eyes again, turning back away from him. “It doesn’t matter, Agent, I’m unavailable to be a resource tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, unavailable?” Aaron asked. He finally walked into view, sitting down on the chair next to you. He positioned his legs over the edge facing you, resting his elbows off his knees.

“What do you mean unavailable?” You said mockingly- the alcohol in your system and stress of the day emboldening your behavior. You paused for a moment to take another drag from your cigarette; Aaron didn’t miss the way you turned your head further from him during your exhale. “You have your job Agent, I have mine.”

“There is a dangerous free man out there with a special interest in you. He’s not only managed to break into your house but is also murdering surrogate women in place of you,” he said, voice growing louder as he went, “and you think you should go to a film set? How immature and irresponsible are-”

“Stop doing that!” You cut him off, snapping your head to face him. For a brief moment, you were taken aback by how close he’d been sitting. “Stop painting me to be some dumb self centered girl. This is the fourth time today.” You said, staring him hard in the face, neither of your breaking eye contact. He always looked so good with a beard- stop that.

“I’m trying to do my job and protect you,” he paused, eyes scanning your face, “I couldn’t handle anything happening to you.” In that moment, his voice was so painfully honest and it almost made you want to agree to do whatever dumb rules he had for you.

Almost.

Instead, you swung your legs to the side of the chair opposite to him, standing up in a quick blur of motion. “Stop doing that too!” You exclaimed, running your free hand over your face. You took a long drag from your cigarette, placing one hand on your hip. Aaron was giving you a genuinely confused look and you just wanted to wipe it off in one big swipe. “Stop doing some weird little bait and switch between acting like I’m a diva and then trying to end it with some vaguely little sweet comment.”

“You actually think I don’t care about your safety?” Aaron asked, the faintest bit of hurt in his voice. He stood up as well before continuing. “You think this isn’t a difficult case for me?”

“You do not get to do that!” You said angrily, pointing a free finger out at him. “You are not allowed to try and make yourself a victim in this story while you simultaneously make me part of the problem. How the hell can you see yourself as even remotely ‘good’ when you left the way you did?” There it was. Maybe it was immature, dragging the breakup into the argument, but the days’ tension- not to mention the months of bottled up emotions- was finally snapping inside of you.

“If you’re upset over how I ended our relationship, that is completely separate from the dealings of the case and I expect you to be able to conduct yourself appropriately.” Aaron said and you thought that this must be what ‘seeing red’ meant.

“Do you treat all your witnesses like this?” You were full on yelling now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Is this your version of appropriate conduct, Agent Hotchner? You’ve proven to be nothing but incompetent! You can’t even see two inches past your own fucking face to consider this from my perspective!”

Your words had their intended effect. Aaron’s face fell for the briefs of moments before years of bottling his own emotions took back over. You had to give him some credit for keeping it, outwardly, more together than you were. “I won't fight with you over something as trivial as this. You’ll report to the station in the morning with the rest of the team.” He ordered, voice dangerously low.

“I have to work!” You exclaimed, putting heavy emphasis on each word.

“Going to work isn’t safe. Do you understand that? Your stalker is well acquainted with your schedule, you need to step away from what’s expected of you. It’s dangerous-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, shaking your head, “are you even listening to yourself? Your job is dangerous every single day, hell you didn’t even step away when the job was dangerous specifically to you! How am I supposed to take advice you can’t even follow?” At the end of your sentence, you angrily stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray, leaving the butt in the tray.

“This isn’t about me.” Aaron snapped, voice loudest it’d been all night. “I’m trying to keep you safe. What part of that don’t you understand?” He asked, giving you a tough look. You found yourself at a loss for words and he took your silence as an opening to continue. “I can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“Are you finally understanding how exhausting it was to love you!” You blurted out, the words catching even you by surprise. You forcibly blinked back the tears forming your eyes. “That this, is how I felt each time you were called away on a case?”

Aaron was equally as shocked, his mouth opening in vain a few times as he searched for the proper response. “I made sure you were properly aware of the risks and demands of my job before we started our relationship.” Bad answer.

“And I never complained,” you replied, a defeated tone creeping into your voice, “not once, did I?”

“If you’re going to accuse me of hypocrisy, you should recognize it in yourself. You were equally if not more in demand than I was.”

“I thought you liked that I was so ‘in demand’!” You said, the frustration growing again. “What was it you always said? You liked not having to worry about me alone at home, waiting up for you.”

“You’re coming to the station tomorrow Y/N. Final order.” Aaron repeated, completely ignoring your last statement.

“You know what,” you said, the fight in your voice gone, “I don’t have to put up with this and your lame attempts at trying to be a good guy. I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You quickly leaned over to swipe your cigarette pack and glass of the little table.

“Are you actually going to run away from this?” He asked, almost as if he was trying to bait you back into the argument.

You scoffed loudly, staring him dead in the eyes. “You did.”

You angrily walked around him, nearly stomping the entire way to the door. As you were halfway into the house you paused for a moment, not even slightly turning your head back towards him. “Blankets are still in the same spot in the living room.” You said, slamming the door behind you as soon the sentence left your lips.

-----

The next morning, promptly at 8am, an email from your agent was sent to Aaron. It was incredibly petty and inherently personal, but to an outsider it was nothing out of the ordinary for someone of your status. Aaron was near furious, as expected, but even in his stubbornness he could see you had the high ground. Long story short, the email plainly stated vaguely threatened that if your work schedule were to become an issue for the team, you could easily send a ‘spokesperson’ from your team to deal with any and all future communications. Y/N 2, Aaron Hotchner 0.

Back at your house, you were having a lovely morning. The victory tasted sweet in your mouth as you got yourself ready for the long day. Sometime around 4:00AM Reid had switched out with Aaron and the two of you were currently in your kitchen; Reid sitting at one of your countertop stools while you stood over the stove. After being angrily informed by Aaron that you wouldn’t be required to come into the station with Reid, you decided to make a simple breakfast for the two of you. Reid had wanted to leave sooner, but he was also under orders to not leave you alone until you were safely in your own car and on your way.

You weren’t sure how he felt, but you thought you and Reid got along quite well. He was the closest in age to you and even though he didn’t really seem to understand any of the little jokes or references you made, there was still some level of mutual understanding there. It didn’t hurt that he was quite easy on the eyes as well, of course he wasn’t Aaron by any means- stop that!

Over breakfast, you spent the entire time answering Reid’s many questions about various actors and actresses he was a fan of. Lucky boy, you thought; as all the people he mentioned were quite nice even when the camera was off. What was it that people said about never meeting your hero?

He graciously offered to do all the clean up, as you had cooked, which gave you a bit of extra time to make sure you were ready to go. When you both were ready and Reid had confirmed the plainclothes officer was positioned on your street, he helped you to your car.

With one hand on the top of your car, just as you were about to sit down, you stopped and turned to Reid. “I enjoyed breakfast, would you please tell Agent Hotchner how sorry I am that my schedule’s gotten in the way?” You asked, giving him your sweetest smile. It was another petty move and Aaron was sure to see right through it; the team had amazing skills at reading people, you knew that, but you were an equally talented actress. “I’ll make sure to let you guys know when I’ll be back at home tonight.” You added, before sliding into your car. Reid closed the door gently behind you, waving from the outside of your garage as you pulled out and drove off.

-----

Case wise, the next two days were quiet. You had won the ‘going to work battle’ by a longshot and happily went about your scheduled days. Aaron hadn’t taken another watch shift since the argument, something you were grateful for. It wasn’t until the fourth day, that the case started to pick up again.

“Agent Hotchner?” A young officer stepped into the conference room, holding out a thick manila envelope. “This was just dropped off at the front desk, addressed to you.” That certainly captured the entire team’s attention; every head turning, as if off on a swivel, to face the officer.

“Who dropped it off?” Hotch demanded. ‘Who dropped it off?” He repeated, an added aggression in his voice.

“Some kid! Some kid dropped it at the front and left before anyone could get a word out!” The officer said hurriedly, raising one of his hands up in a meek surrender.

Hotch stepped up to the officer, easily snatching the envelope out of his hands. “Assure that my technical analyst has access to your entire security feed. Now.” He ordered, not giving the officer as a second glance. “Morgan, call Garcia and make sure she accesses those tapes and identifies the kid immediately.”

Hotch went back to standing in front of the long table in the middle of the room, setting the envelope down in front of him. “Gloves, I need-” A pair were placed in his outstretched hand by Reid before he could finish. “I don’t want anyone touching anything that comes out of here without gloves, understood?” He said, not looking at anyone in particular. His focus, completely drawn to the angry penmanship that spelled out his name. After quickly pulling his gloves all the way on, Hotch grabbed the envelope again, internally shoving down his emotions before ripping off the top edge in one clean pull. Nothing could have prepared him for the way the envelope was overflowing with hundreds of photos of you. He tilted the envelope and they all came falling out, covering the table in front of him. Reid mentally estimated there were over five hundred photos of you- some seemed to be cut, some looked to have writing and designs on them- and there were even a few slips of paper thrown in the mix.

“Hotch, Garcia managed to grab the plate from what the kid drove off in. She's running it-” Morgan said, his sentence running off as he took in the table full of photos. “Holy shit.” He said quietly, making his way closer to the table as well.

Hotch reached down, picking up the closest photo to him. There you were, standing on a boardwalk with your hand blocking the sun from your eyes. You looked beautiful- stop that. As Hotch further studied the photo, he picked up a second one, taking another good look. It struck Hotch and the team then, the majority of the photos were grossly intimate; as if the unsub had taken them by himself. Hotch’s stomach twisted when his eyes fell on a photo that looked like you were posing for it, throwing a big smile and peace sign up at the camera.

“Did Garcia get any hits on any scorned lovers?” Emily asked, holding up a photo of you and a man. The face and body of the man had been aggressively scratched over and cut up, but Aaron had a sinking feeling it was of him.

“Yea, I got another potential ex photo right here.” Reid said, holding up another picture. In this one you had clearly been looking up at someone, but the photo had been crudely cut up to exclude whoever it was.

Morgan held up one of the slips of papers, giving it a confused look. “You lost Aaron?” He said, reading off the paper. “What’s the reasoning for singling out Hotch rather than someone closer to her age like Reid” He questioned, not expecting anyone to answer.

“I got one of Hotch’s face scribbled over. He must’ve gotten the photo online.” Emily added, holding up a professional headshot of Hotch. “Is anyone seeing photos of the rest of us? The unsub could see all of us as interfering with his connection to Y/N.”

Hotch’s stomach was twisted in all different directions. He knew the moment of truth was coming and was internally cursing himself for not coming clean sooner. But that paled in comparison to the sickness he felt over the unsub clearly being someone who had such personal access to you. He was certain that some of these photos dates back years. The idea that whoever was doing this had been so close to you, for so long, could’ve brought him to his knees.

“Hotch…” JJ said, her voice accusatory. She looked up at him, face a mix of confusion and a hint of betrayal. She held up another photo and the entire team went quiet. This photo was clearly taken at a distance, but there you were looking lovingly up at a man who was certainly Hotch.

Hotch had one hand clenched tightly on the edge of the table, taking a deep breath before he looked up at his agents staring expectantly at him.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you all,” Hotch started, running his free hand over his face, “I met Y/N five years ago and we were together for three, until I ended things.” He was sure someone had audibly gasped at that. “I know you all may have various concerns over my proximity to the case and are valid in any anger you may feel towards me. But right now, I need to go call Y/N and make sure she’s safe.”

Hotch didn’t give anyone a chance to reply, instead whipping out his phone and near running out the door. Leaving a team of confused and shocked agents in his wake.

-----

a/n - of course, thank you all for reading. it means the world to me! also just the quickest of shoutouts to @kylorendrip and @ssahoodrathotchner who both constantly put up with my writing complaints and all the random ideas i bounce around their dms on the daily.

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @alexrodriguez1269

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #hotch #aaron hotchner/you #aaron hotcher/reader #'stori writes #in the stars #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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zaptap · 3 years

Photo

ive made a few of these bingo sheets and theyre fun so i decided to make one not just for e3 but also JUST for splatoon 3 (not just for e3 but for like the whole lifetime of the game). also heres my updated list of characters id like to see in smash, ordered generally by which id like more and/or think are the most realistic

since min min got in i took out helix, and since i couldnt decide whether to add in waluigi or madeline i added another row (realistically i dont think any indies are getting in but i threw some in anyway). also i was like “oh yeah maybe theyd put in a gen viii pokemon” so i threw in hatterene since thats one of my favorites.

also as for waluigi (and shovel knight for that matter) i think it would be nice to see an assist trophy get in just to break that rule. also i remember being super surprised he wasnt in brawl (back then i thought he and wario were equally important) and even though that was based on a wrong impression ive still felt like he should be in there ever since

notes about the bingos under the cut

really is about time for those n64 games, especially now that mario is dead so theyre free to release sm64 on it. game boy games would be nice sometime too

would also make sense to include banjo-kazooie in that, nintendos had a good relationship with microsoft lately and the total absence of anything banjo-kazooie on the switch is odd since it’s a dlc character (every other one has a game on switch they can use for cross-marketing, even if joker’s took a while) and i think the best explanation for that would be that theyre holding off for the nso n64 app (this is easiest from a technical standpoint because all they have to do is make a deal to use the roms)

when are they putting octolings in mk8d

xenoblade chronicles x is one of the only wii u games left that they could port (aside from ones that wouldnt make much sense like splatoon and ssb4) so i guess that might as well happen sometime. also monolith soft might be doing something else besides helping with splatoon 3

im not ready for metroid prime 4 (im over halfway through mp2 and therefore the trilogy as a whole) but it’s been a while, they might show it and it could even come out this year

hal apparently recently hinted at a new kirby game or something

the upgraded switch is obviously going to be called the Nintendo Switch ͥ since they already did the ds lite so theyre clearly naming everything in the family after the ds family, theres absolutely no flaw in this logic. idk if theyre showing it, but unlike 2019 they didnt say they werent showing new hardware (just that they were showing software, which could be taken as denying rumors, but they sometimes specify when certain things arent being shown)

metroid prime trilogy also might come this year. would make sense to release it before mp4 since not everyone is going to buy a wii u to get it (and at this point that doesnt get nintendo any money since they stopped making them)

where is detective pikachu 2. i hope it has the blue pikachu from that first tease they gave us in like 2014 (2013? that was a loooong time ago idk)

they said this was MOSTLY 2021 so i am absolutely getting my hopes up for splatoon 2

the two sinnoh games could likely be there

would be super cool if oddity came to switch. and almost as ironic as megalovania getting into smash

we havent seen the botw sequel for a couple years so we’re kind of due for an update on that

it’s ace attorney’s 20th anniversary this year so maybe theyre doing something. theyre already porting those games though so idk. maybe he’s getting in smash

whats with that watermelon mario render

i held off on watching a playthrough for ndrv3 on the off chance it came to switch and i could play a dangan ronpa game for real for once but it’s now been 4 years and we just passed the 10th anniversary of the series (albeit during a pandemic when i wouldnt expect them to have done anything) so it would be cool to see the series come to switch. i think if it still doesnt after this though i’ll just watch the playthrough, 4 years is long enough. amazed ive avoided spoilers this long, i still know next to nothing about the game

im about done with acnh but im still waiting on those splatoon items. and i ran out of storage in february so i need more of that too

nintendo did stuff for zelda’s 30th anniversary so i doubt theyre forgetting the 35th. maybe wwhd/tphd ports, idk

been a couple years since fire emblem, intelligent systems is probably up to something besides planning yet another paper mario spinoff

miyamoto forgot pikmin 4 in the oven 6 years ago and it got burnt to a crisp and thats why it hasnt come out yet because he had to start over

and splatoon

the inklings scared daft punk into quitting so now that theres no competition in the robot musician scene they should have a daft punk style group

i waited and waited and neither of my top two splatoon stages (flounder and d’alfonsino) came back in splatoon 2 so i hope just because splatoon 3 isnt in inkopolis doesnt mean they still wont return

would be sick as hell if there was a real hide and seek mode instead of just sticking to your own rules in private battles. havent played that since 2015 but it was super fun

show us the effects of the chaos world

i wanted mc craig to have a song in octo expansion and they didnt deliver. heres another chance

splatnet 3 baby

cant wait for nogami to do a funny 3 pose

abxy came back for splatoon 2.... am i gonna be that lucky again...?

salmon run doesnt make sense if youre friends with a smallfry but they could either change the story context (you just fight “evil” salmonids?) or replace it with an equally fun co-op mode

amiibo!!! i think i said this before but they should label them by weapons if these cephalopods dont have genders, would make more sense (the gendered ones had different weapons anyway)

returning characters!!!! would like to see everyone have a role of some kind

maybe #GearForAll wasnt successful in getting the emperor/spy/mecha gear, but perhaps theyll at least consider not making that stuff exclusive this time around

squid girl gear should be back. and they should call it a dress instead of a tunic because its a dress. and theres no gender now anyway

as ive said before... TRIPLIES!! you hold one in each hand and another in your mouth. and you can spin around like the tasmanian devil

remove splatfest tee annoyances: you should have a prompt at the end of a splatfest to pay to scrub your tee (to make sure you get the chunks) also it should be on a neutral brand so you dont end up with an overabundance of ink resistance up (or whatever else)

better online and cloud saves would certainly justify having a second splatoon game on the same console, as much as im loving that it exists

hopefully theres a global testfire again

sooner or later the workers will rise up and kill mr grizz

remember in splatoon 1 where if you had squid beatz (via the amiibo) you could “play” it in the lobby and change the music? then you were stuck listening to only bubble bath in splatoon 2? why did they take that option away they should bring it back

looking at those apartment buildings in the trailer i think it would be cool if you had your own room and could decorate it

an octavio redemption arc would be fun to see. in the manga he stole the zapfish because the octarians had an energy crisis, and in the end they worked out a deal to share the electricity

#nintendo direct #e3 #e3 2021 #splatoon 3 #splatoon #ssbu

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mintmatcha · 3 years

Text

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

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thetransguard-archive · 4 years

Note

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck.

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all.

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that.

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.”

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

#the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #lykon #kaysanova #joe x nicky #usercacau #usershan #userlyde #userkayla #tuseradriana #anonymous #ask #reply #OOF what did i just write........... i dont know <3 #maybe i have backstory for all of them. maybe. what about it #my writing #mine #the ghost au

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

Sneaking Around | Chapter Seven

The next week was torture for Aelin. Unable to get her hands on Rowan, she had to settle for passing glances in the hallways and lingering touches in the elevator. Lunchtimes she ignored him as she usually did. It was only at the end of the workday on Friday that Rowan entered her office.

“Did you need something, Mr. Whitethorn?” asked Aelin coolly.

He grinned. “I needed to know if you’re busy.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Come to my place when you’re finished.” Then he walked - no, strutted - out the door.

Aelin could hardly complete her work quickly enough. After she did, she texted Ansel. im not coming home tonight

why am i not surprised? Ansel answered quickly.

shut up Aelin then gathered her belongings and headed to her car.

She pulled up at the now-familiar building and walked up the stairs to Rowan’s door. It was unlocked. Rowan was sitting at the table eating a plate of spaghetti.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Aelin pouted.

He grinned. “I was hungry.”

Rolling her eyes, Aelin served herself a plate and sat. She liked the familiarity she felt when she was here, when she sat down with Rowan.

She’d barely taken a bite when a phone rang. Rowan’s.

“It’s Fenrys,” he said when he looked at it. “Hello?”

A voice sounded on the other side, to which Rowan responded, “Why?” And then, “That’s really weird, man.” And finally, “Maybe some other time. I’m finishing up on paperwork right now.” He looked close to laughter.

Aelin’s brow was raised. “What was that about?”

A smirk. “I was invited over to figure out who your secret boyfriend is.”

Aelin blinked. “You’re joking, right?” When he didn’t say anything, Aelin shouted, “I’m going to kill them! I’m going to fucking kill them all!” Rowan chuckled. “Do you seriously find this amusing?” she yelled.

“Calm down. And don’t kill them, they’ll want to know how you found out.”

“Call him back.”

Rowan frowned. “Why?”

“Tell them you finished your paperwork and you want to join.”

“Again, why?”

“I want to know who they think I’m screwing. You’re my man on the inside.”

Rowan just looked at her. “Um, no.”

“Why not?”

“That’s ridiculous.” When she just glowered at him, he added, “Also, I’m eating.”

“Good thing you’re almost done then.”

“I’m not going to go join their ludicracy when I could be doing other things. Preferably things involving you naked.” When Aelin crossed her arms and frowned at him, Rowan sighed. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope.”

He reluctantly picked up his phone. “Turns out I had less paperwork than I thought and I have nothing better to do. Yeah. Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

Rowan scowled at Aelin. “You owe me. And what exactly are you going to be doing while I’m gone?”

She smiled. “Do you have Netflix?”

Halfway through Dirty Dancing, Aelin’s phone rung. It was Lysandra. Was she involved too? Most certainly; in fact, she had probably started this whole let’s-stalk-Aelin idea.

“What?” Aelin made her voice as breathy as possible.

“Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering what you’re up to.” Checking her alibi. Thorough. She had to give them credit for that.

“I’m very busy. What do you want?” Aelin snapped in her most impatient, I-need-to-get-back-to-sex voice.

“Oh, nothing. I’ll let you get back to it.” There was a laugh in the background and someone shushed them. How inconspicuous.

“Whatever.” Aelin hung up. Then she pressed play on the TV, a smirk on her face.

An hour later, Rowan came back. He found Aelin, asleep on his couch, with a bowl of popcorn next to her.

He moved the popcorn, switched off the TV, and sat next to her. Aelin woke up to Rowan stroking her hair. Not a bad way to start the day. Then she realized it was late evening. Aelin yawned, stretching onto his lap.

“Don’t you want to hear the juicy details?” asked Rowan.

This woke her up. “What did they say about me?”

He laughed. “Oh gods, Lysandra should work in the FBI. There were lists and-”

“Lists?”

“Of every employee of the office. It was narrowed down to male employees, then only those at the party.”

Aelin scowled. “When I get my hands on her... Who else was there?”

“Aedion, Gavriel, and Elide weren’t notified for fear of ratting us out. Ansel was working. Vaughan had to be at the office for the new security update. Lorcan and Manon both declined with similar statements about how bat-shit crazy we are. It was just Connall, Fenrys, Lys, and me. We were all told not to tell you, but I didn’t promise anything.”

“And I’m assuming it was Lysandra’s idea?” Aelin was furious at this point.

“Yes. It was kind of fun, though.”

“I know you did not just say that.”

Rowan chuckled. “Oh, please, you would have initiated the thing if it was anyone else.”

“It wasn’t, though, and I need revenge.”

“I can only pray I’m not there when that happens. And she crossed us men off the list since we were all there while you got your alibi checked.”

Aelin laughed. “Yes, I was brilliant, wasn’t I?”

“Mmhm, you sounded like you were called in the middle of screwing somebody.”

Aelin beamed. “That’s what I was going for. Now that you’re here, though, I’ve been waiting all week for you to fuck me.” she blatantly declared.

Rowan’s breath hitched. Aelin sat up, then moved on top of him, straddling him. His hands settled on her hips.

“Thank you for being my man on the inside,” Aelin whispered, then dragged her tongue up his neck. Rowan groaned.

“Maybe I should do you favors more often,” Rowan got out as she pulled her own shirt off. His hands drifted up to massage Aelin’s breasts through her lace bra.

Aelin spent the rest of the night thoroughly thanking Rowan. Oh, how she loved the weekends.

Aelin slept in the next morning. She awoke to find herself alone in Rowan’s bed.

Not bothering to put on clothes, not even another one of Rowan’s shirts, Aelin walked into the kitchen. Rowan was making pancakes.

He turned, taking in Aelin’s naked appearance. Rowan’s eyes darkened with lust. Totally ignoring his roving gaze, Aelin walked to the counter and leaned against it. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she said.

Unable to tear his eyes away from her body, Rowan kept staring as he answered, “I’d hardly call making pancakes cooking.”

“It’s more than I can do,” Aelin replied. Smirking, she added, “Careful, they seem to be burning.”

Rowan finally turned back to the food, stacking them on a plate. The muscles of his back were tense. Quite possibly he was restraining himself from spinning back around and touching her. Aelin loved the effect she had on him.

Finally he managed, “Tell me you’re not going to eat like that.”

Aelin said, “Why shouldn’t I?” She was enjoying this, especially when he turned back around to reveal a slight bulge in his pants.

“Fuck, Aelin, you can’t... I’m not going to make it through breakfast with you looking like that.”

Laughing evily, Aelin complied, running back to get a shirt out of his dresser. She then walked back to the table, which had two plates on it.

Every time she was here, Aelin felt happy and carefree. Before she knew what she was doing, Aelin blurted, “I like you.”

Rowan looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Aelin blushed furiously. “I mean, I didn’t quite intend to say that, but I do. Like you, I mean. Just saying.” Wow. Very smooth.

Rowan was grinning now. “I like you too.” Aelin had expected some mocking comment, but despite the teasing look, his voice was sincere. Her blush deepened.

Rowan had the nerve not to seem embarrassed. Bastard. He said, “What are your plans for Christmas? Still attending the Single Losers Christmas party?”

Ah yes, Christmas. They were at the beginning of December, nearing a holiday from work. And the Single Losers party was a tradition started long ago, when Fenrys had no one to celebrate with and demanded Aedion, Gavriel, and Lorcan throw a party in his honor. They had the nicest place; everything happened there. It had now evolved into a small get-together with the friends and their dates (so most of them weren’t even single, but whatever). It had been quite a few Christmases since Aelin had had a boyfriend serious enough to spend the holiday with, so she was a regular. About half of them went to their parents’ houses for the holidays, but the others didn’t.

“Yes, I am. You?” Rowan usually went to the party as well.

“I’m going.” He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but hesitated.

“What?” Aelin asked.

Rowan quickly said, “Nothing. More syrup?” She knew she wasn’t getting anything out of the damned bastard. Yet, at least.

The rest of the morning passed, and of course ended up in his bedroom. Aelin didn’t know how, but the sex just kept getting better and better. She left in the afternoon, having plans at her own apartment with Ansel and Lysandra.

Aelin left Rowan with a searing kiss, her insides burning. She would never get used to the heat she felt around him, nor did she ever want to. Aelin lived for it, craved it like she craved his tongue in her mouth.

Eventually she detached herself and drove home. Lysandra was already there - early to see Aelin come home at three in the afternoon. After the possible boyfriend lists that she wasn’t supposed to know about, it was hard enough not to strangle her friend. Lysandra was on thin ice.

“Have a nice night?” she purred. Ansel laughed.

Glaring, Aelin said, “Very. How was your night?” Yes, what were you doing, Lys? Not stalking your friend, I hope.

“I got together with the twins and Rowan.” Technically true. Bitch.

Aelin made sure to inquire about Lysandra and Aedion’s flirtations or Ansel and Fenrys’ budding romance every time they got too nosy and that seemed to do the trick. The conversation mostly revolved around Elide and Lorcan, a new movie on Hulu, and a new Kung Fu move Ansel had learned.

Lysandra left a while later. Aelin set her phone on the counter along with her purse and keys.

She went to the bathroom. Washing her hands, Aelin heard her phone beep. Ansel called, “I’ll check it for you!” Nosy. Probably hoping it was from her lover. Wait a minute; if it was from Rowan...

Aelin dried her hands quickly and bolted out of the bathroom. To find Ansel gaping at Aelin’s phone. Shit.

#rowaelin #tog #sneaking around #my writing

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

Rekindled

Summary: After a hard night of drinking with Lenny, Arthur finds himself in an odd but familiar spot. He also meets someone he hadn’t seen in months: you.

Warnings: It’s angsty smut hours here, folks.

A/N: So this is technically an older piece, since I started it last October and have been working on it little by little since. I did post a preview of it last year if anyone remembers!

A path of light crossed over Arthur’s closed eyes, rousing him from a deep sleep. He blinked them open, bleary and heavy, greeted with the unfamiliar ceiling of a cabin.

The sun shone through the light curtains of a window next to him, and he quickly realized he’d been laying in a bed. The leftover tiredness vanished as he jerked up in surprise, only to be cursed with a splitting headache. The room spun, an uncomfortable dizziness that caused his stomach to lurch.

Expelling a small groan, he gingerly rubbed his palm over his face, resting it on his forehead. How much did he drink last night?

Movement caught his eye, the door on the far side of the room opening. He tensed up, soon forgetting about his moment of weakness to grab for his gun – only to realize his belt had been removed.

A figure stepped in, covered in a jacket and a long skirt billowing around their legs. Beautiful hair that flowed elegantly around their face. Hands laden with a bucket. As they turned toward him, Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Y/N?!”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” you spoke, your voice light in a chime. “’Bout time too, it’s early afternoon.”

Arthur seemed to be flabbergasted by your appearance, mouth hung open slightly as he continued to stare. It’d been months since you’d last seen each other.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, causing him to wince and double over.

“There’s another bucket next to you.” You’d said nonchalantly, turning away to heave the bucket onto the table. Liquid sloshed loudly within it.

Without looking Arthur grabbed the other bucket, having done just in time as he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into it. He retched and heaved uncomfortably, the pain overcoming him until the spasms of his body calmed down. The rancid taste lingered in his mouth, a tinge of alcohol still remaining. He spat into the bucket and placed it back on the ground.

“Where are we?” he rasped, wiping his mouth.

“Cumberland Forest,” you responded without turning to face him. “Little cabin tucked away in the trees.”

“You…you live here?” he asked, pushing the blankets away in an attempt to stand.

“For the time being,” you answered, swiveling around with a tin cup in your hands. “Here.” You walked over to him, pushing on his shoulder.

Arthur towered over you, yet he fell back onto the bed to your gentle pressure. You held the cup out which he took, warily peering into it. Clear water that was cool to the touch filled it halfway. Arthur brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip, swishing it to remove some of the taste on his tongue. He spat it into the bucket once more. “Thanks,” he sighed, placing the cup down. “How’d I…did ya find me or somethin’?”

“Passed out on the side of the road, reeking with alcohol,” you confirmed with a snicker. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

Arthur ducked his head in shame, sighing out a response. “Yeah…” he shook his head at himself, albeit lightly to not agitate the pounding that refused to leave his head. It’d fallen silent for a long moment, thoughts moving through his mind as he tried to find his next words.

He hadn’t seen you in months; you having up and left the gang without so much as a note of farewell. He woke up one day to find you and your belongings gone and no trace of you at all. It left the others bewildered, some even trying to track you, including Arthur himself. The search lasted for days, however the effort proved to be fruitless as the trail had gone cold.

“Listen, I have to run into Valentine for a bit,” you said, moving away from him to grab a satchel that hung on the wall. “Stay if you want, just don’t think about robbing me. You know damn well I can track you if you do.”

Arthur blinked at your abruptness, watching quietly as you opened the door again, stepping out into the greenery that surrounded the cabin. After a few seconds, the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance.

Once the door closed, he was surrounded by silence again. He stood up carefully, hit by another wave of dizziness. He leaned on the wall, clutching at his head as a second bout of nausea overcame him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to dry heave.

As the feeling passed, he opened his eyes again. He was in just a simple one room building. He realized with a jolt this was Six Point Cabin, the area that held the O’Driscoll camp which Kieran had helped ambush just days earlier. He didn’t recognize it at first; there had been some cleaning done, a little bit of redecorating here and there. He moved toward a window, peering toward the field that the small massacre occurred. The tents and supplies were all still there, though some items have been moved around. He assumed you were probably looking through the tents and crates for anything useful or valuable.

He couldn’t fathom why you chose this place to stay in, wondering if you’d ever run into any other O’Driscoll goons. So many questions he wanted to ask, and he was tempted to follow you into Valentine. Though after the previous night, it didn’t seem like the best idea. He wondered how Lenny fared after last night, if he’d managed to get back to camp. The last thing Arthur remembered was stumbling away from the law.

In reality, he should try and head back to camp. However, unanswered questions that cycled in his mind rooted him in place. Your departure had caused him more pain than he realized, keeping him up for many nights in lost wonder on where you went and hoping you’d return. Easily one of the most productive members in the gang, you had proven to be a great thief and a formidable fighter. Additionally there was a softness to you, a kind heart that reached out for those in need. He always had to admire you from afar.

He sighed and reached for the water cup, lifting it to his parched lips and taking a swallow. Guess he’ll wait around for your return.

---

An hour passed, and Arthur’s patience didn’t wear. He kept himself busy, letting his strength slowly regain. Some personal items of yours were strewn about, little reminders of your presence that he missed. He’d found his satchel underneath the bed, having some stringy meat once he knew the nausea wouldn’t return. His gun belt, he’d realized, was resting against the bed post. His hat was on top of it.

Upon the fireplace, he’d noticed a framed photo. It was the entire gang, all posing in front of a large carriage. Upon taking the photo, he had been standing close to you, close enough to touch. He remembered that day fondly.

A few more memories stirred up, the feeling of nostalgia touching him in both a pleasant and unpleasant way.

A little more time had passed until the thundering of hooves caught his attention. He tensed, hand automatically hovering over his revolver. A moment later, the door opened to reveal you once again.

He relaxed in an instant, letting out the breath he was holding. As you closed the door, you met his gaze and smiled. “Haven’t left yet huh?”

“Don’t got a horse at the moment.” Arthur answered instantly, which was only partially true to his degree.

“Never stopped you before,” you said with a raised eyebrow. “I know you can easily steal one.”

“You’re right,” Arthur nodded. “But I ain’t leavin’, not til you answer some questions.”

Your smile turned rueful. “Figured as much,” you sighed, placing your satchel on the table. Pulling out a can of beans and some already cooked meat slabs, you continued. “Wanna have some dinner, then?”

Arthur looked at you for a moment, and then shrugged, sitting at the table. The stringy meat hadn’t exactly provided him with much. He waited silently as you prepared two plates, placing one in front of him and the other at your own spot. As you settled into your seat, Arthur’s eyes were on you.

“Alright, ask.”

“Why did ya leave?” he immediately spoke. “’Specially when you didn’t say goodbye to anyone.”

You sighed, casting your gaze down to your plate. You toyed with the beans briefly before spooning some into your mouth, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “Somethin’ didn’t seem right.”

Arthur tilted his head. “What do ya mean by that?”

“I dunno, I kept getting this…feeling,” you explained, your free hand resting over your heart. “A feeling that something bad was gonna happen. I didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was.”

“So you just up n’ left?” Arthur concluded. “Why didn’t ya say anything to anyone?”

“Would any of y’all have believed me?” you countered. When Arthur hesitated, you added, “Didn’t think so.”

“Coulda at least told me,” he mumbled. “At least told me goodbye. I…we tried trackin’ ya for a little while.”

“I thought you would try, so I had to make sure I covered my tracks well,” You explained. “Kept myself moving.”

Arthur solemnly nodded once, momentarily falling silent to eat some of his meal. He wasn’t sure what to say next, trying to process the information that was given. You’d left on a bad feeling. He understood gut feelings, knowing them all too well in a lifestyle such as this. “What caused it?” he finally asked.

“Can’t say for sure,” you replied with a small shake of your head. “But when Micah joined… it just felt like something was different.”

Micah, of course. That headstrong fool causing more problems than not these past few months. “So Micah caused you to leave.”

“Eh, part of it. Racist asshole.” you murmured.

A chuckle passed his lips. “He’s in jail over in Strawberry right now. I’m supposed to go get ‘im, and I’d rather wrestle a damn pack ‘o wolves.”

“Not surprised,” venom dripped from your voice. “But it was…more than just him. I started having nightmares. Bloodshed and bodies, mangled faces of those I cared about…” you swallowed hard, stopping to eat some more. A moment of silence followed as you chewed on the meat. “I came to the conclusion that I didn’t wanna be a part of that, so I left.”

Nightmares. Arthur shook his head in disbelief, leaning back against the chair, folding his arms. “Seems a little silly to run ‘cause of nightmares.”

“I thought so too, until I heard the mess you guys caused in Blackwater.” You pointed out as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know about that?” he said incredulously.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Who hasn’t? I got into town not too long after you fled. Pinkertons everywhere, interrogating people on the streets. I had to keep myself hidden, managed to sneak out. When I learned what happened, I realized I was right. Something went wrong.”

Arthur sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was hesitant to compare your dream to the awful reality. He reluctantly spoke, “Weren’t just Blackwater neither. We got chased up into the Grizzlies, lost some folk on the way. We managed to get in a better spot, but it ain’t easy gettin’ back on our feet.”

“Only further proving my point,” You added. “I couldn’t bring myself to be a part of that.”

“We’re outlaws, life is always dangerous for us. You knew that when ya joined up.” Arthur argued, stabbing the meat with unnecessary force to cut it.

“Of course I knew that, Arthur,” you retorted with a slight scowl, though melting to a look of sadness. “I wouldn’t have been with Dutch for years if I hadn’t. But honestly…my gut was telling me to get out, and I did.”

He fell silent again, a flame in his chest wanting him to argue more yet nothing but empty words filled his mind. Bickering was something you and him were good at, usually about silly things that resolved on its own within a few minutes. It was only on rare occasions did you two disagree on a bigger matter, resulting in neither of you speaking for a day, and would only speak if he approached you first. You were more stubborn than he was.

Remembering those days brought a bout of woeful sentiments, reminding him all too clearly how much he’d missed you when you left. “I jus’...” he trailed off, rubbing his face before continuing. “Everyone misses you. They still wonder why ya left.”

You pursed your lips, dropping your gaze down to your plate. “I wanted to say something, I truly did. But I know it would have made things worse.”

Your last words set anger in him, bubbling up to the surface. “You leavin’ without a word was worse!” Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hand outward. “You had us all worried, wonderin’ where you were!” his fist fell heavily on the table, shaking the contents on top of it. “Search parties, days of trackin’ worthless! Losin’ sleep thinkin’ I’d never see you again.”

At first you’d seemed unphased by his outburst. However as he finished, your face began to falter. He waited for you to speak, expecting another flimsy reason or excuse to justify your actions.

With a sigh, you said, “I’m sorry, Arthur. I really am. I…” you sniffed, rubbing your eyes briefly. “I really miss you guys too. It…it took me a lot of convincing to even go through with it, and I had to constantly fight myself not to return. You guys are my family and I could never change that. It hurt me much more than you’d think.”

Arthur listened to you, his lips set in a hard line as he studied you. The raw emotion that touched your voice softened his otherwise angered heart. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to settle his thoughts right. There was no need to be frustrated; what was done was done. “Maybe you shoulda said somethin’. Maybe Dutch woulda listened. Wouldn’t have lost the people we did.”

“I could have and should have done many things, Arthur,” you said quietly. “But some things are meant to happen regardless. We can’t change what’s intended.”

Those words hit him with more force than he’d thought. Bowing his head, staring at the half-finished food before him. He’d lost his appetite, his heart sinking uncomfortably deep into his guts. He’d wanted answers and now he nearly regretted asking. Maybe he should have left while you were out. He wasn’t sure what answer he’d expected, though his wandering thoughts kept him awake at night those first few weeks of your absence.

There was no doubt you two had been close; both taken under Dutch’s wing at a young age. Years together of running, robbing and riding, those minor arguments and drunken nights around the campfire. Hours of speaking to one another about some nonsense, secrets whispered and kept. Some of the others would joke that you two acted like a married couple, bickering and making up right after, moving in sync and often going on missions together. Arthur would scoff and you would laugh, sometimes making the joke yourself and even going as far as to suggest to do it for real.

Arthur could never tell if you were joking or not, and would brush it off with a half-hearted chuckle. It was an absurd suggestion, wondering who could ever marry him. Yet with your departure, it were as if a piece of him had been taken with you.

He often perceived it as something he’d done wrong, though couldn’t fathom as to why it would be his own fault. You knew about Mary, about Eliza. His luck with women was something left to be desired. Yet you weren’t involved romantically, never gave an inkling of being sweet on one another. His own lack of self-confidence had automatically convinced him he wasn’t one to have any sort of close relation with the opposite sex. Perhaps it was silly to assume he was owed something from you.

He stood up immediately, aggressively pushing himself from the table as he got to his feet. As he turned to grab his things, he heard your voice.

“Arthur?”

“Gotta get goin’,” he responded without looking at you. “Got some things to take care of.”

He heard you sigh, the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor as you stood up. “At least let me walk you to the door.”

Arthur didn’t answer, grabbing his hat and satchel. As he crossed the cabin, you were right behind him, quickly walking ahead to grab the door. You opened it for him, stepping out into the late afternoon light. He could just march out and not look back, but somehow your presence there distracted him. He stopped at the threshold, looking down at you.

Rays of light beamed through the vegetation, touching your face in such a way that your skin glowed. Eyes reflected brightly, highlighting the beauty that graced your finer features. A hint of disappointment hung on your lips as a small frown, and your eyes never left his.

Silent words passed between you two like a bolt of electricity, his nerves tingling as if he were struck himself. You were the epitome of gorgeous; your features having stayed the same regardless of the hardships. More than once your face appeared in his dreams, treading through his mind in the quiet hours of the night. Those suggested ideas of marriage tugged at him on occasion, daring to venture where that would lead.

Sure, he never did believe you, partly due to his previous relationships. He was a cursed man, damned to never be truly satisfied with his life as the powers above teasingly dangled his desires in front of him. Cruel was fate for pulling you away too. Perhaps you were right about how some things were meant to happen.

“Stay with me.” You said. It wasn’t a question nor a suggestion.

Arthur felt his breath hitch.

“Don’t go back, please.” Your voice was low, swimming with raw emotion.

You never pleaded, the slightest hints of it in your tone caught Arthur off guard. He stared at you with contemplation, your words pulling at his heartstrings with more force than intended.

“I…can’t…” he forced himself to say, wringing out the words as if his throat were dry.

Your lips pursed, your steady gaze not breaking from his. “You’re not invincible, ya know. One day…things will change.”

He inhaled, opening his mouth as if to argue, yet no words formed on his lips. A strong mix of emotions raged within him still, a battle of uncertainty that could not be quelled. “Things always change.” He managed to say quietly.

“Not for the better, you know that.” You emphasized.

Of course he knew that, hell, he probably knew that better than anyone. Pain, death, and sadness took the forefront of his life more often than he’d like, yet cutting ties as you did would be much more difficult. He had a family, close bonds that would take effort to break.

Seeing you standing before him, the desperation bright and glassy in your eyes, had him consider it for a brief moment.

He spoke your name, his words trailing off as he watched you step closer, just inches away from him.

“We could be…good…together, Arthur,” you whispered, tilting your head up, your breath wafting gently across his face. “You and I…no more outlaw days, no more running, no more worrying…just…us.”

His heart pounded like a drum against his ribs. Having you this close rendered his head devoid of all thought. Your words echoed in his mind, the very brief consideration driven by something deeper within him.

His mouth opened slightly, though whatever he was going to say was quickly subdued by your lips.

Shock overcame him, stiffening in surprise. You pulled back instantaneously, staring into his eyes with an expectant look.

He stared at you in bewilderment, stirring up a myriad of feelings. Silent questions arose, none of which formed in his mouth. His hands twitched forward without thought, raising one to graze his fingers against your cheek. Cupping it gently, he leaned forward and kissed you properly.

Your lips were soft against his, warm and plump, easily melding against his mouth. His other hand hovered along your lower back, hesitant, yet you stepped forward to welcome his embrace. Bodies touching, his arm rested against you, holding you to him.

It’d been so long since he kissed anyone; he nearly forgot what it felt like. A sweet rush of bliss washed over him, soon forgetting the unease that held the both of you. His hands slinked into your hair, holding you close as his lips moved silently against yours.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, his nerves tingling pleasantly from your touch. It was as if you had fire in your skin, every part of his body responding to the heat that radiated from you. He pulled back for air, breathing heavily as if he’d run a race. Blood rushed, thumping in his ears.

You kept hold of him, a small smile painted on your face. You’d reached up and pulled his hat off. A thousand unspoken words were exchanged through your gazes alone, all of which told one message that he understood.

Stay.

Your hands ran slowly across his shoulders, fingers trickling lightly across the fabric of his shirt. You outlined the muscles of his biceps, trailing along his forearms and finally to his hands. His hands gently entwined with yours, warm and soft against his rough and calloused skin.

You silently pulled him back into the cabin, his feet light as he followed you without protest. Your lips found his again, eliciting such passion behind it that it nearly caught him off guard. His arms took hold of you, pulling you in a tight embrace. Your closeness, the warmth that radiated through your clothes against him, it was all so surreal.

God, has he been holding back for this long? Was this just a dream?

Arthur pulled back an inch, resting his forehead against yours. You felt so real in his arms, against his chest. He uttered your name, barely a whisper that held his vulnerability. The way he longed for you was unlike any other. You were more than just a fellow outlaw to him, more than just family.

Now he knew why you suggested marriage.

And he’d been so afraid of another relationship, he refused to see it for what it was himself.

You sighed his name, your voice like a soft song in his ears.

It hurts to be without you.

He dipped his head down, resting it carefully on your shoulder. Your hands threaded through his hair with soothing strokes. Your scent overwhelmed him, a lovely aroma which fogged his senses. He breathed in slowly, locking you into his memory.

His lips ghosted across the soft skin of your neck, placing a baby kiss along your pulse point. A short, uneven breath rattled from your throat. Lifting his head, he peered at your face. Your eyes were half-lidded, staring at him with an expression he recognized, yet he was in disbelief.

Why me?

Your palms rested on his chest, holding his gaze as your fingers inched toward his exposed skin. You traced his collar bones, your touch light. Moving across the midline of his pectorals, you stopped over his racing heart that leapt from the lightest of grazes.

His skin felt like fire, a trail prickling after your touch. After years of only bath ladies having come in contact with his naked skin, this effect was foreign and familiar simultaneously. He watched as your fingers deftly worked the topmost closed button of his shirt.

He stiffened automatically, unable to hide the wariness of judgment that crept to the forefront of his mind. You must have recognized his apprehension, moving one hand to cup his cheek. Your face was gentle, offering a look of safety.

You can trust me.

A shuddering breath pushed past his lips. Such intimacy was lost to him long ago, only to be visited in his dreams. He missed it so and was afraid to attempt with another woman. He did trust you, trusted you with his life even. Perhaps it was time to strengthen it even more.

He ducked his head slightly, giving a small nod to allow you to continue. A soft kiss was placed on his cheek. You continued further, easing your way down his buttons, keeping your eyes level with his.

He was nervous, his heart refusing to cease its hammering. His mind incessantly whispered unkind comments, battling actively with his better senses. With each button released, exposing more of his torso, he waited for your reaction of disgust or disinterest. With the last undone, his shirt fell open to reveal his union suit. You hadn’t hesitated to repeat the process, exposing more and more of his torso to you until he was bare from the waist up.

He watched you with held breath as you smoothed your palm against his abdomen, the tips of your fingers trailing gently along the ridges of his muscles. A look of interest appeared across your face, tracing patterns along his skin. To his surprise, you hadn’t offered him any notion of repulsion.

You reached up, taking hold of his shirt and suspenders to peel them from his shoulders. The cool air nipped his skin, though it didn't quell the warmth that slowly spread through him. He closed his eyes from your softness, aware of the way your hands explored him. Just this alone brought a brighter light in the darkness of his inner thoughts, slowly diminishing the skepticism that plagued him.

Your fingers rested on the back of his neck, applying gentle pressure to bring him to you. As your lips met you grasped his hand, placing it gently upon your own shirt.

Hesitant as he was, fingers twitching across the buttons, he longed for more.

Without a pause you guided him with ease, directing him along the line as they parted. The silky fabric of your chemise grazed against his knuckles. He opened his eyes, pulling back to view. Your shirt fell from your shoulders, pooling on the ground around your feet.

Your skirt was soon to follow, the billowing waves of fabric landing elegantly upon the worn wooden floor. Down to nothing but your unmentionables, you placed Arthur’s hands onto your waist. Heat radiated through the thin fabric like a furnace. You inched closer, pressing your body against his. You were so delicate compared to him, even though you presented yourself otherwise.

He wanted to touch you more, to feel your bare skin in his palms. His reluctance fueled by the remaining dregs of apprehension stopped him. He idly tested the fabric between his fingers, unsure whether or not to move forward. Your eyes reflected patience, silently awaiting his decision.

I trust you too.

Releasing a shuddering exhale, Arthur tugged the straps down from your shoulders. Your breasts, perfect and round, were revealed to him as he peeled it away. You aided him further, sliding the entire piece down your waist, falling past your legs to join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You were completely nude now, standing before him with shameless confidence. He gazed at you up and down while drinking in the lovely sight with careful precision. Lord, you were gorgeous. A Goddess next to such a plain man such as himself. He almost felt shameful to even stand in your presence.

You stepped closer, pressing your body to his as you wrapped your arms around his neck once more. Your breasts rested against his chest which left him breathless. Desire began to pool within him, stirring heat in his very core. He bit his lip with an inability to hinder the ever growing arousal. He held you again, resting his hands just above the curve of your rear. Trailing his fingertips up and down your spine, reveling how good you felt to him.

He soon found the courage to venture further, falling to the lust that took hold of him. Your butt felt heavenly to him, kneading your flesh which produced a quiet moan from you. Standing on your toes, you placed your lips upon his neck, trailing quick kisses along his pulse point and his stubbled chin, leaving no part of his skin untouched.

Your fingers ghosted across his arousal, too prominent to ignore it. You’d make quick work with the buttons, releasing him of his confinements. He felt the last of his clothes fall from him, exposing him in his entirety. He didn’t have time to react nor comprehend, as you’d taken his length in your hand without hesitation. A soft groan elicited from him as you smoothed your hand up and down. He could only stand there, allowing your control to flood him completely.

You quickened your pace, his groans only becoming louder. He could absolutely melt from your touch at this point, having gone so long without the company of anyone but his own. His grip on you tightened in need for more. His knees trembled from your thumb running across the head, and he released a shuddering breath.

And then, you stopped. A protest built in his throat as you stepped back, only to beckon him towards the bed. He followed without question, allowing you to push him to sit on the edge. You straddled him to sit daintily on his lap as you pulled him into a deep, heated kiss. Your hand found his length again, languidly stroking him with a light touch. He moaned into your mouth, tongues batting against one another at a slow pace. He could feel your heat on his legs, accompanied by the slight moisture. Daringly reaching down, he found your center without hesitation.

His fingertip encircled your bud. You shuddered on top of him, eliciting a soft moan of your own that sent a rush of fire through his stomach. His strokes hastened, vainly seeking for more of your pleasure. He tantalizingly stroked you with intent to prolong it. He enjoyed listening to you, knowing that he was eliciting such delectation. You ground into his grasp, pressing your torso to his once again. Your touch had become more feverish against him, ripping your lips from his to express yourself with a high mewl. You’d responded with dragging your thumb underneath his pink head, teasing the sensitive skin. He bucked up into your grip with a deep groan.

His fingers idled at your entrance, marveling at your slick. He slid one finger in as he explored your inner walls, stroking against your heat with slow precision. He’d lost count of the years past that he’d touched someone in such a way, although his memory of them was still as clear as day.

You uttered a gasp, a product of him discovering your spot. He curled his finger teasingly within you, adding another for enhanced effect. Soon you were reduced to a writhing mess on his lap, you gripped his shoulder with your free hand until he felt the sting of your nails.

A soft hiss slid across his tongue. The pain was not bothersome, only adding to the growing flames that resided within him. Though with each passing second, his yearning for you only increased. He wanted you, needed you. Years of missed opportunity leading to this moment.

He stared at your face. Cheeks flushed with a beautiful rosy glow, your lips parted and your eyes unable to focus. Because of him. He brought your attention back, one hand resting upon your cheek as your eyes met. He could get lost in how gorgeous yours were.

You seemed to understand him. Unspoken messages passed across an unseen bridge. Clarity formed on your face as you released him, then wrapped your arms around his neck.

Take me.

He held your hips, waiting patiently as you maneuvered yourself over him. As you sunk down, his eyes kept to yours as you began to seat yourself comfortably, a breathless gasp sliding from his mouth. Your inner walls were so hot, so wet…his grip tightened slightly at the sensation, holding himself not to thrust up into you.

Engulfed to the hilt, your hips canted as you began to rhythmically move against him. The ripples that accompanied it were breathtaking, a deep groan emitting from his chest. He couldn’t help but to move along with you, keeping in sync as you danced atop his lap. Your sweet sounds of pleasure were almost musical, filling his mind abuzz.

Your sight lost focus as you threw your head back, calling out his name in such a melody it made him blush. He was doing this to you. Him and only him. He could get lost in your essence just listening to your voice. His lips attached to your heated skin, beginning to slowly leave his marks on you, along your neck and across your collarbones. Your fingers stroked through his hair. You sighed into his ear, every praise and encouragement laced in your voice that seemed foreign to him but encouraging all the same.

Your fingers had brushed across his jaw, offering slight pressure to pull his head up. He met your lidded gaze, face flushed and mouth slightly parted. He understood your notion, his hands slinking up your back to knot into your hair as he drew you in for another kiss. Mixed sounds drowned out against your tongues with your increased pace. A deep groan vibrated in his chest while he hastened to keep up with you.

His lips parted from yours to catch his breath, taking short huffs before his mouth returned to your body. One hand slid around your torso to your breast. He kneaded it gently in his palm, reveling how soft and warm it felt. His mouth occupied your puckered nipple while his teeth grazed over it. You uttered a whine in response, your entire body trembling on top of him. He gave attention to the rest of your body with his other hand, memorizing every curve and swell. Everything about you felt wonderful. He eventually found his way to your core again, running his fingers along your nub to enhance your pleasure. Your moans only grew from there, your nails leaving their own marks on his shoulders.

You gripped him hard, your voice raising an octave. He knew what it meant as he locked gazes with you and he rubbed you faster, coaxing out your climax. It only took a half a moment before every muscle trembled around him, your walls clenching his length as your release overtook you. His name graced your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, dragging your fingers down his back. He shuddered from your touch, your climax almost sending him over the edge.

You panted out the last waves of your peak as your grip loosened from him. You straightened up to stare at him, appearing absolutely drunk with ecstasy and adoration for him. His heart leapt from the sight. He grabbed your waist and lifted you from him, turning to lay on the bed in one smooth motion.

He towered over you, keeping his gaze even with yours. You smiled up at him, a warm and inviting smile as your legs spread for him. He smiled as well, running his hands down your sides to stop at your hips. He carefully lined himself with your folds and pushed forward. A soft groan emanated as he sheathed himself within you once again. A brief moment of pause to relish the feeling of joining together again, Arthur caressed your face, keeping his gaze steady. Your hand covered his, and he began to thrust.

Watching your face contort to your pleasure underneath him was the best thing he’d ever seen.

His hips rolled in an undulating rhythm against you. Your hands found their way to his hair. Unblinking stares settled deep in his soul, afraid to look away as if he’d lose sight of your beauty permanently.

Time was lost to him from how deeply buried he was. His surroundings vanished, only focused on you and you alone. His own name filling his ears soon became his favorite song, wrapped in a melody of your moans and mewls. He watched as a second orgasm took hold of you, visibly waving through your body to expel from your mouth.

It was the most gorgeous form he’d ever seen you in. He felt his own pleasure heighten from just watching you writhe and arch beneath him. The way your walls squeezed him again, it wouldn’t be much longer until he would release himself. But he didn’t want to end it so soon.

Your legs wrapped around him, trapping him to you. It was as if you understood what was coming next. Arthur inhaled sharply, driving himself as far as he could. The fire was growing too quickly, too powerful for him to prolong –

I want you.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the release took hold of his entire body. Every muscle clenched while his climax washed over him, emptying what felt like his soul deep in your core. He groaned loudly, his hips snapping weakly against yours until it ebbed away, opening his eyes to see you again.

Your lips were parted and your cheeks were still flushed with a rosy tint. Your lustful eyes glinted beautifully in the light of the late afternoon. He brought himself down to crush his mouth to yours, eliciting a deep kiss despite the both of you gasping for air.

Hell, he didn’t even care. Your gentle fingers raked through his hair over and over, moaning sweetly and breathlessly against his tongue. His tired arms trembled beneath his weight, and he parted his lips from yours. Fatigue struck him like a bolt, and he dropped his head to rest within the valley of your breasts. He intended to roll off to your side, except you didn’t seem to mind. He felt your lips press against the crown of his head and caress his cheek, bringing a soft smile to his face.

After a few minutes of silence, the reality of what happened soon caught up with him. It didn’t occur to him how much he missed you until this very moment, and how stupid he was to ignore his own pining. He should have tried harder to find you, hell, he should have taken you to be his own ages ago if he weren’t such a coward. How much time he wasted ignoring the obvious.

Gone for months, only to appear once again under his nose.

His fingers lazily trailed up your side. You were real, right here with him. His hand searched for yours and you obliged, entwining your fingers with his. He never wanted to let you go ever again.

---

Arthur awoke with the soft song of crickets just outside the window. As he blinked his bleary eyes, he didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep. The full moon shone through the window, brightening the little cabin with its silver glow. He was still on you, his head was still resting upon your chest, and your deep breathing and slow heartbeat indicated you too were out cold. He shifted himself slightly to look at you, observing your features. His own heart raced just seeing you like that, how beautiful you were even in such a vulnerable state.

His gaze shifted around the cabin. Right at that moment he wanted nothing more than to stay in this cabin with you, to live and sleep and wake up every day to see your lovely face. He wanted it all.

His eyes landed on his gun belt. His Cattleman revolver gleamed brightly and the weight of a harsh reality crashed upon him. As much as he wanted it, he had too much of a responsibility to his gang, his family. It wouldn’t be fair to abandon them now, especially since they were all just getting back on their feet.

He released a silent sigh. Placing a kiss upon your skin, he moved to stand. He hadn’t pulled out prior, and the slightly pleasurable sensation overtaking him nearly made him stop. You shifted as he stood, groaning quietly as his movement aroused you.

“Arthur?” you rasped, your voice heavy with sleep.

His heart sank. He turned slowly to face you and spoke, “I have to go.” Every word felt heavy.

You’d fallen silent. He could see the disappointment and sadness shadowed across your face. You sat up and swung your legs over the side to stand before him. Every curve of you accentuated in the moonlight, illuminating you with an ethereal glow. His hands flexed at his sides, forcing himself to keep from grabbing you.

However, you’d reached forward, taking his hands in your own. He didn’t stop you. “I know you do,” You said quietly, pressing your lips to his hands. “I won’t stop you, as much as I want to.”

His breath caught, thinking back to the argument from earlier. How adamant you were about wanting him to stay. “What changed?” he asked.

You released his hands and stepped back. “You’re an outlaw. No one can tell you what to do.” You answered, a ghost of a smile flitting across your lips.

He’d nearly stepped in sync with you. He however was rooted in the spot, actively arguing with his own conscience. He knew it was the right choice, but damn did it have to hurt this bad?

He turned and silently dressed, collecting his things while he felt your eyes on from the opposite side of the cabin. All the while his mind was yelling at him. Screaming. Demanding he’d stay. Desperately hoping you’d make another attempt. He fought it with gritted teeth as he slung his satchel around his neck and strode over to the door. He rested his hand on the knob and hesitated for a split second.

I love you.

It was such a tiny whisper that he thought he might’ve imagined it. He glanced over his shoulder at you, spotting your silhouette in the darkest corner of the cabin.

His heart plummeted and he opened the door, stepping out into the nocturnal wilderness. As he closed the door behind him, he let out a choked sigh.

I love you too.

---

I’m honestly considering on making this one a trilogy. But before I write anything new, I’m going to work on more of My Little Secret as well as And I’ll Succumb To You. I’ve put off that one especially for a little too long.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #Arthur Morgan

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percyinpanties · 3 years

Note

hey I'm the pipeyna anon and that's ok!!! can u do pipeyna with piper pining after hot jock Reyna which hopefully ends happy (smutty)

just a quick warm-up, i say, i won’t spend too much time on this. i really had to resist just going on and on and on with this. i miss writing this ship, damn.

anyway - this fits really well with an enemy to lovers prompt i have for jercy, so thats what im hinting at too here.

Read on Ao3

for context : i always write college aus from a UK uni perspective bc that’s all i know and i don’t care to adapt to how it might or might not work in the u.s. (sorry)

rating: teen+ (no smut in this one, but let me tell you, this TEMPTED me)

words: 2.2k

___

“An actual goddess” Piper says wistfully from where she’s leaning against the wall next to Percy, taking back the cigarette she’d just bummed of him. Her eyes are glued on the field, and more precisely on Reyna, smile on her face and water bottle in her hand as she jogs over to Jason standing at the side of the field. They greet each other with a hug, even as Reyna wrinkles her face, seemingly complaining about her own sweatiness.

It’s coincidence that the end of Reyna’s soccer practice collides conveniently with Piper’s and Percy’s late seminar on Mondays. It isn’t coincidence that Percy and her have taken to sharing a cigarette on the side of the building that looks out toward the field during their break, however.

Percy makes a non-committal noise and his eyes follow Piper’s gaze while she takes a drag of the cigarette and wrinkles her nose. She needs to quit smoking for good, she thinks, and flicks the ash to the ground. There was a brief moment in first year when Piper thought that Percy might be interested in Reyna, or she in him, but luckily, nothing ever came of that.

“You think they’re dating?” Percy asks, arms crossed over his chest now, making no move to take the cigarette back again. He’s not even pretending not to be staring, his eyes intense where they flit between Reyna and Jason. Piper on the other hand has the common decency to at least cast her eyes away every now and again before she’s caught looking for a little too long.

At the edge of the field, Reyna and Jason are standing close together now, chatting about god knows what, smiling and laughing. They’re certainly comfortable with each other, but Piper can’t say that’s much of an indication given how she’s around Percy.

“I hope not.” Piper mutters and Percy laughs at that, even though she knows he agrees. Percy wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but Piper would bet real money that he has a thing for Jason, too, as much as he claims to hate the guy. She’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice the tension between them.

It would make sense, though, in a way. Jason is captain of the men’s rugby team, Reyna of the women’s soccer team. Some of their practices collide and the two clubs do most of their weekly socials together, and Piper’s seen the two of them hanging out aside from that plenty as well. Reyna and her haven’t talked much about Jason, maybe because Piper hasn’t actually exchanged more than five words with him and never had much of an urge to change that, but she knows that Reyna and Jason have known each other before university.

Around Jason, Reyna seems to let her guard down, something Piper has only managed to achieve a handful of times since they met during their first year.

Jason laughs at something Reyna says, eyes bright and head thrown back and Piper can’t deny that he’s handsome, at the very least. He’s fairly decent, too, as far as guys go, and really, Piper knows she shouldn’t be hoping that there is nothing between Reyna and him if that is what would make Reyna happy.

“Invite her to the party.” Percy suggests then, drawing Piper’s attention back from the tangent her brain was so insistent to start on. When Piper turns her face to look at him, he’s already looking back at her, one eyebrow arched. “I was going to, anyway, but it’s different coming from you yourself.”

He’s not teasing her, it’s an honest suggestion, and technically not even a bad one. It’s Percy’s birthday this weekend, and if nothing else, it would be a good excuse to hang out again. Percy knows a ton of people, but he usually doesn’t invite too many to his party, so with any luck, it won’t be too crowded to actually spend some time with Reyna.

More than that, though, it’s another opportunity for Piper to finally get a move on. Percy, Piper knows, thinks that Piper’s pining had reached a point where it’s almost comical halfway through last year, but even so, Piper has yet to manage to actually act on her feelings.

A party is casual enough that she can always play it off as nothing serious when it ends up blowing up in her face. Piper might finally get over herself and just ask Reyna out already – although she’s tried that a few times before only to find herself tongue tied and staring at Reyna like she hung the moon in the sky. She’s been head over heels for Reyna since maybe three weeks after they met in first year, and now that they’re starting their third and final year, Piper needs to get a move on or it’ll simply be too late. Granted, she’s scared shitless at the prospect of being turned down, but at this point, even that would be better than pining forever and never finding out if she’d even stand a chance.

“Yeah… maybe.” Piper says finally, and manages a small smile towards Percy who bumps his shoulder against hers playfully. They should be heading back inside, so Piper sneaks a last glance toward Reyna and this time, finds her looking back.

They don’t share any classes this year, and Piper doesn’t usually run into Reyna on campus, so on Wednesday morning, she ends up texting Reyna on her way to class. She fumbles with her phone, almost tripping over her own two feet trying to type the words out as fast as possible, and ends up having to sidestep off the path to actually send the texts.

Hey you.

we’re having a party on Saturday, it’s Percy’s birthday.

Piper wants to add more, but instead, she bites her lip and stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. It’s almost an open invitation like this already anyway, and Piper wants to gauge Reyna’s first reaction before deciding exactly how she’s going about asking. Technically, it would be so easy to just as Reyna to go with her, specifically, to the party, but the intention might be lost over text and anyway, wouldn’t it be simpler to just invite her generally?

Piper frets throughout the entirety of her first lecture, and most of the second one, for nothing. Reyna doesn’t answer, even though the messenger app shows Piper that she’s read both texts already, and Piper tries not to be disappointed about it. She doesn’t know what Reyna’s schedule is like today, the girl might just be busy and planned on replying later. It makes sense, much more than Piper’s second thought that Reyna is not answering because Piper is annoying and Reyna doesn’t actually want to spend any time with her. She knows that thought is stupid, knowing that however does nothing to ease the anxious knot in Piper’s stomach.

Piper finds herself checking her phone more often than not. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous, and if the lecturer wasn’t so clearly catching on that Piper isn’t paying as much attention to the class as she is to her phone. She texts Percy as well, but she knows he’s in that seminar he shares with Jason, so chances are that she won’t be getting a reply on that end anytime soon either. In the end, she has to force herself to put her phone away and actually focus on the lecture up front, even though by that point, she is already lost as to what they’re even talking about in the first place. It’s no good, and Piper can’t deny being relieved when the lecturer eventually dismisses the class.

She doesn’t allow herself to check her messages until she’s across campus in the coffee shop, queuing for some much needed caffeine and fishing out her phone so she doesn’t have to make small talk with anyone while she waits in line. Reyna still hasn’t replied, but at least Percy has messaged her after his seminar.

I’m gonna strangle him, Piper. You’ll have to bust me out of prison because they are going to arrest me for goddamn murder.

All she’d asked was if his classes were as boring as hers today, and while she had expected Percy to go off about Jason in reply, this isn’t exactly what she’d thought to be reading today. She smiles at her phone, types out a quick reply and moves up in the queue.

That bad? What’s he done now?

The way Percy talks about Jason makes Piper think of a Cartoon Network villain, always plotting, provoking and scheming. The few times she’s spoken to Jason, the guy wasn’t half bad, and if Piper is honest, she doesn’t quite get the vendetta these two have with each other. She suspects though that it has something to do with how ‘infuriatingly attractive, like fucking superman or something’ Percy described Jason after their first class together.

It’s like he thinks I’m stupid or something. Got a dumb fucking project to do together and he honestly told me that he ‘needs to pass this class so iif I’m not planning to put in the work, we might as well ask for new partners right away’

Like, excuse me, bitch? My grades are better than yours, for one thing

And for another, it’s not like good-old Dodds is gonna let us switch anyway

Piper huffs audibly while she reads the texts. It’s clear Percy’s actually upset by this, and she figures it will only get worse if they actually have to do the work together in the coming weeks. Before she can shoot Percy a reply though, she’s next in line.

Piper orders her coffee, steps aside to wait once she’s paid, and rereads Percy’s texts before she types her reply to Percy.

Sounds like a dick move.

Piper’s almost inclined to defend Jason for a moment, since Percy mostly doesn’t pay much attention in class, especially in Mrs. Dodds seminars – so how is Jason meant to know how much effort Percy puts in outside of it? On the other hand, though, Piper knows how Percy is, and how personally he’s clearly taken Jason’s comment already, so trying to convince him otherwise would simply be fruitless.

Once Piper’s coffee is done, she heads back outside, finding an empty bench to enjoy the break before her next class. If nothing else, at least Percy’s ranting is distracting her from Reyna, and the party, and asking the other girl out – and in between the rapid texts Percy and her are sending back and forth Piper almost forgets about it entirely. Until she has to head back to her last class, that is, and sees that Reyna has, so far, still left her on read.

Piper hesitates for a moment, clicking on the text field without typing anything just yet. Is she going to come off as desperate if she texts again, or should she just clarify now before it gets too late and Reyna already makes different plans for the weekend?

Piper types out a few words, deletes them again and pockets her phone only to get it back out a few seconds later to try again. She shouldn’t be walking and texting, especially given that she should be going faster to actually make it to her lecture in time, but Piper knows that if she doesn’t send this text now, she’ll spend another lecture agonising over what to say.

So yeah, I wanted to invite you too ofc :)

Piper cringes at her wording, but figuring it won’t get much better, she sends the text anyway and finally tucks her phone back into her pocket to actually hurry to class.

By the time Reyna replies, it’s late and Piper is sitting on the beat-up couch in her shared flat’s living room, watching something trashy on TV without really paying much attention at all. Percy is clanking around in the kitchen, making something that smells good enough to remind Piper that she should probably be getting herself some food, too. She’s about to get up and rummage through her fridge compartment in search of something edible when her lock screen lights up with a message from Reyna, and that derails any thoughts of food immediately. Piper isn’t subtle in the way she practically lunges for her phone, but luckily, Percy can’t see and judge her from his position in the kitchen.

Sorry, long day, reads the first text, following a few seconds later by another one.

Promised Jason to hang out but I’d love to :(

Piper bites her lip, knowing before typing out the words that Percy won’t like what she’s doing in the slightest.

You could bring him? Percy won’t mind.

Except that Percy most certainly will mind, Piper thinks, and grimaces. If she hadn’t come off as desperate before, she most certainly does now – texting back within less than a minute after having been left on read all day, only to offer that Reyna can bring her friend (boyfriend?) along as well if that means she’ll be there.

There’ll be other opportunities, Piper tells herself, and scrubs a hand over her face. She needs to chill, and maybe she needs to grab a cigarette and step outside and calm down before she embarrasses herself even further.

Piper stares at the screen. How on earth is she meant to interpret this? At this rate, she won’t make it until Saturday, dying of one crisis or another before then.

if you’re sure? I’ll ask him.

haven’t seen you in a while, would be nice to hang out again ;)

I’m sure.

#will i continue this? maybe #i do kinda wanna write the party part and have it ending ~spicy~#pipeyna #piper mclean #reyna ramirez avila arellano #my stuff #my fic #prompts #teen+#pjo #Anonymous #jercy #in the bg

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