#people street racing down my street in the early morning/late night hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

englishstrawbie · 11 months

Note

“ maybe you could stay? just for tonight? it’s dark outside, and it’s raining. my arms are much safer. “ for marina please :)

Maya had learned early on that one of Carina’s love languages is acts of service. Since the day she had turned up at the station with a container of lasagne, a gesture to make a bad day better, she has continued to do little things that bring a smile to Maya’s face. A homemade tiramisu or cannoli from her favourite Italian deli when she is working, Carina insisting that the sweet treats will keep her energy up during her long, twenty-four hour shifts. There are massages when Maya’s body aches and she will wake up with a blanket over her legs when she falls asleep in the middle of a movie. One morning, Maya had raced out of the apartment, late for work, and when she had returned the following day, her messy kitchen was spotless.

So it doesn’t surprise her when Carina shows up on a stormy night after hearing about the fire under the bridge in the park. A group of homeless people had lit some fires to keep warm, only for those fires to quickly grow out of control; embers being picked up by the wind and landing on their tents and blankets. They had lost two lives today and the whole team are feeling it.

She hasn’t heard from Mason since she had gifted him paints and brushes; she knows he left the camp a few days later, but it doesn’t stop her body from turning rigid when she realises that the fire is under his bridge, her eyes watching the mural he left behind become scorched by the flames – her only connection to him erased.

She had looked for him, of course – just in case. There was no sign of him and Maya had felt both relieved and disappointed. She longs to see him again, desperate to know he is safe and happy.

Only Andy knew why this particular bridge was important to her, but the rest of the team had heard that the last time Maya had seen her brother he was living on the streets and they understood her reaction.

Carina knows a little about it too, from what Maya has been willing to share. She is still guarded at times, the walls coming down slowly. But as soon as she had heard about the fire, Carina’s instinct was to grab her coat and bag, and head over to the station.

She finds Maya behind her desk, staring mindlessly at her computer screen and looking sad. Maya doesn’t hear the soft knock on the door, only looking up when Carina is standing in front of her desk, a takeout bag in her hands.

“Hey you,” Maya says with as much cheer as she can muster, painting a smile on her face.

“Hi bella,” Carina says softly. She glances at the plate of food on the desk, dinner turned cold, and places the bag on the desk. “I stopped by The Pink Door, I thought you might want something decent to eat.”

Maya’s lips turn upwards into a small smile. Carina has never thought much of their cooking – unless it’s Travis’s turn.

“Thank you,” Maya says, although her glum mood masks any hunger she may be feeling. “Let me guess – you spoke to Bailey, who’d spoken to Ben?”

Carina nods.

“Did you see Mason there?”

Maya shakes her head, no. Carina steps around the desk and perches on the edge next to Maya’s chair, tucking her foot under the wheels and encouraging Maya closer.

“Are you okay?”

Maya merely shrugs. She spins her chair and drops her head, leaning her forehead against Carina’s stomach. Her hands rest on Carina’s hips, her fingers digging into her waist. She breathes deeply, letting out a contented sigh when she feels Carina’s fingers comb through her hair.

“What do you need, bella?”

Maya lifts her head to look up at her, her eyes sweeping over Carina’s face and hair, dropping to her chest and the small silver necklace she wears.

“Show me,” Carina says in barely a whisper.

Her hands tug at Maya’s hair and she stands up, pulling Carina into a kiss. Carina’s hands circle her back, holding her close. Maya yanks at the hem of Carina’s shirt, finding her way underneath, her fingers sinking into Carina’s skin. She moans happily, making easy work of the buttons to expose Carina’s abs, toned by all the yoga she does.

“Maya,” Carina mumbles in between kisses. “Not here.”

“Why not?” Maya says breathlessly.

It is not the first time they have got carried away in the captain’s office. Carina has become a frequent visitor to the station since they started dating and Maya figures it’s a privilege that comes with being captain – one that she is more than willing to exploit. Besides, no-one was going to know. The team are scattered around the fire house: some in the beanery, some in the break room, some hiding in their bunks.

“Maya! I mean, not here,” Carina says, giggling as she wriggles out of Maya’s grasp. She steps back, dragging Maya towards the Captain’s bunk.

An hour later and she is curled up against Maya’s body, her head resting on Maya’s chest and listening to her heart beating beneath her. She sighs happily, enjoying the feeling of peace that always comes when she is in Maya’s arms.

“Well, I feel better,” Maya says cheekily, her lips brushing against Carina’s forehead, her fingers playing with the ends of Carina’s hair.

Carina looks up and grins at her. The room lights up suddenly, soon followed by a crack of thunder, so loud it feels like the walls are shaking.

“I should go,” Carina says ruefully. She doesn’t usually stay overnight when Maya is working, knowing that she can only get away with distracting her for a short time before she returns to her usual ‘eyes forward’ mentality. Plus, she wants to be home before the storm gets any worse.

She tries to pull away, but Maya only holds her tighter.

“Maybe you could stay?” she says, a hopefulness in her voice. “Just for tonight? It’s dark outside and it’s raining. My arms are much safer.”

Her chest heaves, nervous for Carina’s answer. Sure, Carina has slept over at Maya’s apartment a lot but Maya has never asked her to stay. It is a vulnerability that Maya doesn’t usually show, an intimacy they haven’t shared yet.

She doesn’t need to be nervous. Carina’s eyes shine up at her, a smile spreading across her face.

“Si… yes, I’ll stay.”

She lifts herself up so she can embrace Maya in a gentle kiss, then snuggles back into her arms.

It is only then that Maya’s stomach rumbles, demanding food.

“You think that takeout is still edible?”

“Hmm maybe,” Carina says. “You’ll need to heat it up though.”

Maya huffs. “That would involve putting clothes on.” Instead, she makes herself more comfortable, wrapping her arms around Carina and resting her cheek against the top of her hair.

“Will you tell me about your day?”

“Which part?” Carina asks.

“Any part,” Maya says. “I just want to listen to your voice for a while.”

Romantic moment prompts

Thank you for the prompt @mayasdeluca - sorry for the delay, but I hope you like it!

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #romantic moment prompts #mayasdeluca

39 notes · View notes

wordsofrowan · 9 months

Text

The Shadow Court

Chapter 8 - Beneath the Shadow's Veil

Marinette found herself once again running late to school. She cursed herself for staying up all night talking to Chloe, Felix, and him. The excitement of their newfound friendship had kept her engrossed in conversation until the early hours of the morning. As she hurriedly put on her shoes, she couldn't help but feel a mix of happiness and exhaustion. On one hand, she was thrilled to have made new friends, but on the other, she knew she needed to be more responsible with her time.

Grabbing her backpack, Marinette rushed out of the house and dashed down the street. Her heart raced with every step, her mind replaying the moments shared with her three closest people. They had been so welcoming and understanding, making her feel like she truly belonged. It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time, and it filled her with joy.

However, as she neared the school, she couldn't ignore the nagging worry about being late again. Determined to make it to class on time this time, she picked up her pace, her heart racing with each step.

But just as she was about to enter the classroom, she felt a strong grip on her wrist. Startled, she turned around and found herself being pulled into an empty room. Her eyes widened when she saw Adrien standing before her, looking serious and concerned.

"What do you want, Adrien?" Marinette asked, her heart still pounding with fear from the unexpected encounter, as she relaxed her body from a fighting stance.

Adrien's serious expression softened as he saw her apprehension. "I'm sorry for scaring you," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Marinette took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. "Uh huh sure," she replied, though her voice still held a hint of unease. "But why did you pull me into an empty room like this?"

Adrien hesitated for a moment before speaking, "Who was that guy last night?"

Marinette's eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden change of topic. "Who? Oh do you mean J-" she started to say, but then clamped her mouth shut, realizing she had almost revealed too much. "Why does it matter?" she asked, trying to deflect the question.

Adrien's concern was evident as he gently reached out to touch her arm. "Marinette, I care about you," he said softly. "I just want to make sure you're safe and to be honest I don't think he's good for you."

“He nor I are any of your business, Adrien,” Marinette hissed, “You lost every right to care about me.” As tension lingered in the air, Marinette was reminded of why she decided to cut herself off from Adrien, the way he neglected to care about her or even help her against Lila but then seemed to act as if he had any semblance of control over her life, like he had some moral superiority over her.

"Why are you acting like this, Marinette?" Adrien's voice held a hint of annoyance as he confronted her. "You've changed. You were such a good friend, heck I would argue you were my best friend, and now you're avoiding me." Adrien said, his voice shaking with a mix of frustration and hurt. "The Marinette I knew wouldn't shut out her friends, wouldn't keep secrets that tear us apart. Can't you see the pain you're causing? Who's been picking you up? Tell me, damn it!"

A bitter laugh escaped Marinette's lips, carrying with it a wave of bitter resentment. The sound reverberated in the room, an echo of shattered trust and broken bonds. Her words cut through the air, each one infused with a biting sting that pierced Adrien's heart.

"I find it funny that you, of all people, are saying that," she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Like I owe you anything. Let me make this clear: You haven't been a friend to me for a while. Neither has most of the class for that matter. All I'm asking is for you to leave me alone."

"Marinette, the way you've been acting lately, it's not like you," he pleaded, his voice laden with a mix of confusion and concern. "The Marinette I know wouldn't be rude to her friends or keep such significant secrets from the class. Can you at least start by telling us who's been picking you up every day? Let's begin there."

Marinette's eyes narrowed, and her tone grew sharper, cutting through the tension in the room. "You really think you deserve to know? After everything that's happened? You think I owe you an explanation?"

Adrien's heart sank further, the weight of her words pushing him deeper into a pit of despair. He had hoped for understanding, for a chance to bridge the divide that had formed between them. But her anger seemed impenetrable.

"I don't expect you to owe me anything," Adrien replied, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "But we used to be friends, Marinette. We were there for each other, supporting one another through thick and thin. Something changed, and I want to understand. I want to help if I can. Please, just talk to me."

Marinette's gaze softened momentarily, but her guarded expression quickly returned. She hesitated as if debating whether to trust him with her burden. After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.

"You're right. We were friends once. But things have changed, Adrien. Ever since... ever since that day, it's like everything fell apart. I can't be the person I used to be anymore. I can't trust easily anymore. And I can't let myself get hurt over others anymore," Marinette's voice quivered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Adrien's brow furrowed in confusion, his concern deepening. "What happened? What's causing all of this?" he asked, desperate for answers.

Finally, the straw that broke the camel's back landed, and Marinette snapped, closing her hands into fist at her side as she stared down Adrien. "You! You happened Adrien, you're the reason for all of this misery!" Marinette's voice trembled with anguish, her words laced with bitterness. "Ever since Lila slithered her way into our lives, you selfishly chose her over me, over everything we had, you selfishly decided that her peace and wellbeing were more important to you than I was, that the pain and hurt and isolation I was feeling meant nothing to you. Our friendship shattered, and none of you were ever true friends, to begin with! But you know what? I've finally found people who genuinely care about me, who mend the shattered pieces of my broken heart. So I no longer need any of you in my life."

Adrien staggered back, the accusation hitting him like a devastating blow to the chest. He felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of confusion, hurt, and disbelief. "What? No, Marinette, that's not true!" he protested, his voice trembling. "I never chose Lila over you. I thought we were friends, but you pushed me away! You pushed all of us away and chose to antagonize Lila over and over again. How could you blame me for something I never did?"

Marinette's tear-filled eyes met Adrien's gaze, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and pain. "Adrien, you're such a liar. While I've been facing relentless abuse and harassment all by myself from our so-called friends, you stood there and watched, pretending like it didn't affect you. You haven't lost anything, but I've lost my peace of mind, my confidence, and my trust in people."

Adrien's face contorted in shock and guilt, his words stumbling out in an attempt to defend himself. "Marinette, I... I didn't realize the extent of what you were going through. I thought you were strong enough to handle it on your own. I didn't know how deeply it was affecting you."

Marinette's voice grew colder, her gaze hardening. "Oh, so it was my job to be strong while you just stood by and watched? That's not what friendship is, Adrien. True friends don't abandon each other in times of need. But you were too busy being oblivious to my struggles, too wrapped up in your own privileged world to care."

"I didn't know, Marinette," he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "I didn't realize the extent of what was happening. Please, give me a chance to make it right. We can fix this, rebuild our friendship."

Marinette's expression hardened, her gaze cold and unforgiving. "Fix this? You want to try and fix this? Well, It's too late, Adrien. The damage has been done. You and the others turned your backs on me when I needed you most. I found real friends, people who support me without hesitation. I don't need fair-weather friends like you."

Adrien felt a searing pain in his chest, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the right words. "Marinette, please. I made a mistake, but I still care about you. We were supposed to be there for each other, through thick and thin. Don't let our friendship be destroyed by this. Give me a chance to prove myself."

Marinette's eyes flashed with defiance, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Prove yourself? All you proved to me Adrien is what a spineless coward you are. You had your chance, and you blew it. I won't let myself be hurt by you or anyone else again."

Adrien's shoulders slumped, his voice barely a whisper as he fought back tears. "I never wanted to hurt you, Marinette. I never wanted any of this to happen. I just want things to go back to the way they were when we were friends."

A bitter smile curled on Marinette's lips, devoid of warmth or compassion. Her voice, laced with a pang of deep sadness, cut through the silence like a knife. "Well, Adrien, things change. People change. And some friendships... they wither away and crumble, leaving nothing but shards of what used to be. You can't turn back time or undo the pain you've caused."

The weight of her words pressed upon him, threatening to suffocate his hopes of reconciliation. Adrien's voice wavered with a mix of defeat and sorrow, his words barely audible above the ache in his chest. "I... I understand, Marinette. If that's what you want if that's what you truly believe... I'll respect your decision. But know that I'll always be here... if you change your mind."

As he turned to leave, every step felt like an anchor dragging him deeper into a sea of desolation. The echoes of their shattered friendship reverberated through the room, a haunting reminder of the irreparable damage that had been inflicted. Marinette watched him go, her heart heavy with the weight of lost memories and broken trust. The silence engulfed them both, casting a shadow of what once was, now forever lost in the depths of their shattered connection.

XoXo Rowan

#writing #spilled ink #miraculous au #miraculous fandom #marinette deserves better #akuma class salt #adrien salt

10 notes · View notes

tessatales · 1 year

Text

The Ressurection of Love: Chapter Two (Spencer Reid x Original Female Character)

Pairing: Dr Spencer Reid x Original Female Character

Theme: Brief mention of a kidnapping case at the end of chapter. Apart from that none.

A/N: Hey! what did you think of the first chapter? I really hope you enjoyed it! I won't bore you too much with a long note but i will mention that I'll be creating a upload schedule ASAP when I've got several chapters ready! anyway, Enjoy

Chapter one, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

- - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Spencer found himself up and ready much earlier than usual. As his mornings at home usually consisted of waking up late and racing through the street half dressed in a manic attempt to meet either Emily and/or Derek at the coffee shop, being up and ready nearly an hour early was a foreign concept to the young genius.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Spencer fiddled with the contents of one of his shelving units before giving in and calling Derek.

“Kid is that you? Or has your phone been stolen?” Derek said as he answered the phone on the second ring, his voice breathy but cheerful.

“No theft today, just unusually early. When will you finish at the gym?” Spencer replied, hearing the steady thumping of Derek’s feet on the treadmill.

“I've got 5 minutes left, so I can see you in fifteen minutes if you want?” Derek suggested.

Spencer nodded as he spoke.

“Sure, see you in fifteen”

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

“How did you not ask her second name? Or her division? Or anything even remotely helpful?” Derek asked between sips of his coffee. The smirk on his face growing bigger the longer his list became.

Spencer glared into his coffee cup.

He’d regretted mentioning his chance meeting with Alyssa to Derek the second he’d noticed the mischievous glint appear in his eye. Since that moment, Morgan had been grilling him for even the smallest detail.

“It was nearly midnight! I wasn’t exactly geared up to meet people in the first place” Spencer grumbled as the pair exited the elevator on their floor.

The Behavioural Analysis Units floor was nothing to marvel at when it came to looks, just a large expanse of space taken up by mini cubicles for staff to work in and offices lining the walls for the higher ranking agents. It was the work they did on that floor that won awards, created college courses and most importantly, took down some of the most deprived monsters and put them behind bars.

“What are you guys talking about? Ooo is that my coffee?” Emily said, falling into step on the other side of Spencer.

“One black coffee and Pretty boy here met a girl last night.” Derek replied, handing her the steaming coffee with a grin. Emily’s eyes grew wide.

“How? You only went home right?” She said in astonishment as she blew on her drink.

“She’s my new neighbour. And you don’t have to sound so surprised that I can meet people outside of this office” Spencer said in a huff. Emily laughed.

“I know, it’s just so rare for you!” Emily explained, bumping Spencer lightly on the shoulder with her own.

“You’ve not heard the best part”

“The best part of what? What did I miss?” Penelope said as she appeared beside Derek, her own coffee already in hand. Spencer groaned as he fell into his cubicle seat.

“Spencer has a new neighbour” Derek said, leaning against Spencer’s desk.

“Oooo, so what’s the best part?” Penelope said with a smile. Spencer gritted his teeth as he spoke.

“Her name is Alyssa. She’s a new FBI transfer to this building but I didn’t ask her for her second name or her department.” he responded quietly, watching as Emily and Penelope’s faces went through the same emotions as Derek’s did when he’d told him.

“Oh my little genius you can be so stupid sometimes” Penelope cooed as she pinched Spencer's chin. Spencer batted her hand away jokingly, feeling his embarrassment already colouring his cheeks. He was about to protest when movement in one of the offices caught his eye. From where he sat Spencer could see JJ in Hotchner's office, with a third person he couldn’t make out from where he sat. Ignoring the friends surrounding him as they talked around him but not to him, Spencer took a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee, watching as the figures moved around Hotch's office in a silent exchange. He was still fixated on them when the office door opened and Spencer had to abruptly stand in order to avoid spilling his coffee on his lap.

“What’s up kid?” Derek said, Turing to look in the direction of the approaching figures.

“You’re joking right?” Derek breathed, watching as JJ headed in the direction of her office while Hotchner made his way down towards where they gathered with this mysterious third person.

“What what what?” Penelope said in a whisper as she and Emily turned their attention back to the boys.

“Good morning team,” Hotchner said as he approached, stopping only a few feet away from Spencer's booth.

The chorus of responses were somewhat dimmed by the ringing in Spencer's ears. In fact he was pretty sure he’d forgotten to close his mouth since he saw who was exiting Hotch’s office.

“Team, I’d like to introduce you to Special Agent Alyssa Andrews. She will be joining the team from today.” Hotchner continued, seemingly ignoring the shock on everyone’s face as they put the pieces together.

“Alyssa, this is SSA Derek Morgan, our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, SSA Emily Prentiss and Dr Spencer Reid” Aaron said, with each team member waving their hellos to Alyssa as they were listed off.

“Doctor? You didn’t mention that last night.” Alyssa said with a small smile at Spencer.

“Like you said about the Agent thing, telling people I’m a doctor either makes them run away or I have to explain I’m not that kind of doctor” Spencer said with a shrug, feeling his cheeks colour all over again as Alyssa continued to stare at him.

“Have you two met before then?” Hotch said, looking between the two of them. The air in the room seemed to get heavier at the question.

“Only last night,” Alyssa replied.

“Turns out we’re neighbours now.” Spencer added, looking at his boss sheepishly. Aaron nodded, the heaviness in the room lifting as the implications were erased from the air. Before anyone was able to change the subject, JJ appeared at Hotchners elbow.

“I’m really sorry guys, but proper introductions are going to have to happen on the plane. I've just had a kidnapping case come in” JJ said, looking at the team with sympathy as she clutched the file between her hands.

“Wheels up in thirty then” Aaron said, leaving the team to scramble for their go bags and make their way to the strip.

#criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x oc #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jj jareau #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi

4 notes · View notes

thearchivistsjournal · 1 year

Text

Day 219,

Yep, as expected, I’m sore this morning.

At least it’s mostly just my arms. And my back. And my neck. But hey, it’s not my legs, and those are what I mostly plan to be using today. Speaking of which, I better get going and head out. With Tristan being on the opposite side of the circuit, it’ll be past dark before I get back as it is, assuming I’m estimating distance and personal pace correctly.

*******

And I’m back home. It is very late, I am very tired, and I need to get up very early in the morning, so I’ll be abridging this.

Left early, although later than I meant too. Like I said earlier, I was sore from rowing/paddling yesterday and slow to get up and moving.

On my way out, Maiko asked if I was really sure I wanted to make the trip alone. I assured her I was fine. I’d be sticking to the road the whole time and there are patrols after dark.

I was basically heading from the south-southeast to the west-northwest part of the circuit. While on a map it would have been shorter to go clockwise, that would have taken me through the Village proper and its tangle of streets and people that might want to stop and talk to me. Also, I hadn’t traveled the other half of the circuit except briefly to visit the star lake that one time and I wanted to see it. So widdershins my path was.

From what I’ve been told the nightly guard patrols take the full sundown to sunup to complete a circuit. So about twelve hours. The brothers Ettor and Ynigo made it in just over seven in their race but kinda wrecked themselves in the process. I figured based on how long it usually takes me to get from home to the library I could do it in nine or ten on a good day if I pushed it, but I hadn’t had a good day in over a month.

It didn’t take long after I left the house for the nature sprite to appear. Much like it had on the last couple solo trips I made between the Village and the house it did nothing but keep pace with me, slightly ahead and to my left.

I’m pretty sure I recognized the turnoff to the lake when I passed it. About an hour after that, while sitting on the side of the road, taking a break to catch and staring down the sprite who’d crouched down opposite from me it suddenly tilted its head, paused for a moment, then disappeared into a flutter of leaves. A few moments later a group of kids and teens came down the road from the way I’d been going. We exchanged greetings as they passed by. They seemed to recognize me as the Archivist. I told them what I was doing (leaving out Tristan’s name) and they told me they were off to the star lake. I guess it’s still the popular youth hangout spot that Lin remembered. The sprite re-appeared beside me once they’d left and I got going again.

Once the road passed out of the forest and into more open spaces the sprite pulled its disappearing act again. I suspect it was still following me, but was trying to keep unseen now that the trees weren’t blocking lines of sight for long distances.

A bit before noon, after the circuit had curved in so that I was going more west than north, I found a building on the side of the road with a quartet of guardsmen seated around a table playing cards. Apparently it was an outpost so that the night patrols could start from (almost) opposite ends of the circuit so as not to leave broad stretches unattended for half the night. Once again, they knew the Archivist on sight - or at least my pendant - and invited me into the shade of the outpost for an early lunch and a break from boredom. I apologized for not having time to do a telling for them, but I was able to give news, such as it was, of things that had come up for me to record in the past couple of months. Not that their posting was anywhere near that long. They switch out each mist night so they’d only actually been there a few days, but it gets dull out there fast. Except, they told me, on days when the wind blows in just right from the Blossom Field. I couldn’t tell if they were serious about that last part or if I’d walked into a running in-joke between guards. There was some more (maybe) joking suggestions that’s why it’s always either all men or all women at the outpost at any given time.

That was a longer break than I’d hoped, but I was still roughly on schedule, albeit a schedule that would put me home after dark.

As I passed by that northward-most stretch of road I finally got to see the (in)famous Blossom Field. The road runs along a ridge at that point, the edge of a broad, shallow valley of sorts, so I was able to get a good view of it. And what a view it was. A hundred different colors all swaying in the breeze, stretching all the way to the treeline of the jungle that fills the northern half of the island. It took me the better part of an hour to walk past it and, at a rough guess, I would estimate it would take me at least as long if I were to cut across it to reach the jungle. Even from up on the ridge the fragrance was heady, but not unpleasant. I caught myself briefly thinking that the “old me” wouldn’t have been able to smell it so keenly and perhaps would have been sneezing. A curious notion, one that I’m not sure to be thankful for or jealous of. By the time I put the field behind me I found myself feeling oddly flushed in a way that was unrelated to my long walk in the noonday sun. I think I’m starting to get what Daianna said way back when about cutting through not being helpful for getting work done.

After the Blossom Field came what I believe to be the turnoff the crystal collectors take into the jungle, and then some time after that, the side road leading to Tristan’s farm. They’re not big on signage around here, but when I’d asked around about Tristan ahead of time I was told to look for a tree with a knot like a sheep’s face at the corner of the turn and I found something that pretty much looked to fit the bill.

Thankfully, by the time I reached Tristan’s the flush from the Blossom Field had worn off. Now I was just the regular kind of hot and sweaty.

I found myself passing by fields not too unlike the ones near me, but with fewer vegetables and more livestock. When I hailed one of the fieldhands to make sure I was on the right track to find Tristan, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to learn I’d just met his son. Farmers have the biggest families around here and Tristan had married into one. For once, I wasn’t recognized right away but once I explained what I was doing here I was welcomed. The Archivist coming calling is a thing to be excited about it seems.

The road led to a house, and at the house I went through a similar round of introductions and was let in to see Tristan. He was an older man now, in his sixties or seventies I’d guess, and not quite up to working the fields these days. He did recognize my pendant, but not me. As we sat down together and I explained why I was there he started to wax nostalgic about back when he told the old archivist about that trip (two archivists back actually; my predecessor’s predecessor).

At first, I learned little I hadn’t already heard or read save for his motivation for being out there in the first place: he was trying to impress his then-sweetheart-now-wife and got the idea in his head that if he went far out enough he could land a catch no one had seen before.

When I asked if he’d remembered anything unusual about the island or his meeting with Iole, things that might not have made it into the old archivist’s records, he grew hesitant. Eventually he did admit that there were some “unwholesome” elements that had him too spooked to mention back then and that he hasn’t talked about much since, but it’s been long enough now that he supposed there was no harm in adding it to the record if I wanted.

Apparently back then Iole had been “obsessed” with attempting to translate the book she’d found, almost aggressive in wanting to show the book to Tristan and explain her theories. She seemed more happy to have someone to share her ideas with than any prospect of rescue. The “twisted” statuettes she’d carved and scattered about her hut and the drawings she’d made on the walls were equally unnerving. All in all, a rather different picture from the one Maiko metaphorically painted in her tale.

Iole’s unsettling manic energy aside, the thing that really drove Tristan to leave and never come back was the song. Iole was just as eager to show him that as she was her book, and listening to it together was the only time he ever saw her calm. It had a similar effect on him. Gentle. Soothing. Loving. He claimed that if he hadn’t already given his heart to another he never would have left. That’s what jolted him out of reverie and sent him running for his boat. The realization that if he stayed much longer, he might not want to leave either and wouldn’t see his sweetheart again.

That’s… worrying to say the least, but a good warning to have. Cass and Lin didn’t have their reaction during our brief stop there, but the songs do seem to be dimmed somewhat by the presence of the floating island. We’ll need to be careful about Lin and Cass going to that part of the island. Maiko and I might be fine given the adverse reactions we’ve had to the song.

The other part of the visit that went as I’d hoped was that I was able to get Tristan to do some rough sketches of islands we might pass by and/or stop at on the way there and back. It’s been long enough that his memory is a bit foggy so we can’t guarantee accuracy and certainly not precision, but it’s something. Should be good for cross-referencing with Maiko’s memory of her long ago trip to the healing spring. Unfortunately, we were all reeling too much from Maiko’s abrupt departure at the time to do much in the way of aerial sketching of the surrounding area.

Once we finished conversing, I thanked Tristan profusely for his time and promised to come back and tell him what we find. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about the plan to check up on Iole, but we’ll be gone before he can tell anyone.

Once I reached the forested section of road again the nature sprite made itself visible. This time around I tried making conversation with it as we walked. It would turn its head back to look at me from time to time, sometimes cock its head to one side or the other, but that was it for responses. I wound up telling it much of how I felt about it. And about the incident. Who knows how much it understood. Or cares.

I was still a good two hours out from the Village proper when the sun went down, but at least I had a lantern. I couldn’t decide if having the nature sprite escorting me at that point was comforting or unsettling.

The nature sprite disappeared once more an hour later at the sight of light coming up the path. A pair of guards on the night patrol, much as I’d encountered that time I fell asleep at Siren Overlook. Not too far off from that spot either actually. It wasn’t the same ones, but they had heard the story and recognized me well enough to ask if that’s what happened again. I forced a laugh and said it was official archival business this time. They asked me what the occasion was and I joked that they could come read about it sometime. They took the remark in good humor and offered to have one of them walk me back to the Village. I wanted to decline, but frankly I was too tired to say no.

When he dropped me off at the edge of the Village some time later I was sorely tempted to just spend the night at the archive, but I’d told Maiko I’d be back tonight and pushed on. As it turned out, she’d gotten concerned that I was already later than I said I’d expected to be and was waiting for me on the other side of the Village.

I filled her in on my day on that last stretch of walk. I’ll admit, I half expected her to pick me up and carry me the number of times she asked if I was alright. I must have looked awful. I certainly felt it.

Upon dragging myself into the house I forced something to eat down my throat, stumbled into the bathroom to clean off the sweat and grime, and then into my bedroom to make a few quick notes before collapsing into bed.

A few quick notes…

How much did I just write?

Got into one of those flow states again.

This is why I have such a hard time waking up most mornings.

<==Previous Next==>

3 notes · View notes

katoktm6 · 2 years

Text

Barcelona

The adventures begin. June11, 2022

I have no idea how many hours I have been awake… I know I was up at 3:45 Saturday morning in Phoenix and it is now 7:00 p.m. Sunday night in Barcelona. We flew through Montreal, and raced to make a connection to Toronto and then literally ran to make our connection to Barcelona…I would like to think I am ready for the Amazing Race as we were pushing people aside to get down the people movers…at one point Elyse went to check the time on her phone, (rather than asking me what my watch said) and she dropped it over the side of the escalator onto the one below us…as we were racing to the gate. Of course I screamed, “GD it Elyse!”Made the flight and managed a few hours of restless sleep. Somehow we arrived to Barcelona two hours early after departing 30 minutes late?!? We arrived at 10:00, but our prearranged driver wasn’t due to arrive until 12:00! So we waited…then the debacle of finding him..we were where we were supposed to be but he wanted us to go up to arrivals and out to find him, all through a dispatcher…we left the airport around 12:20, and then our driver could not find the hotel in the winding narrow alleys and streets of the La Rambla neighborhood. What was supposed to be a 20 minute trip ended up over an hour…eventually he told us to get out and pointed us in the direction the hotel should be. Fortunately, it was only a block away…check in smooth…hotel room clean but rustic…we were just glad it was ready for us. We dropped our bags and headed out for tapas and wandering. To prevent jet lag we knew we had to stay awake…so we walked miles of beach, saw lots of sculptures, rode the gondola across the harbor, walked gardens,and found out way back at 6:00. Rested only because I needed a bathroom break that wasn’t a public beach bathroom, and grabbed our journaling tools and came out on the plaza where live music is playing. We are drinking wine and ordered more tapas…potato omelet (a staple in Spain) chicken croquettes, calamari, and bread. And more wine. We are trying to stay awake until at least 8:00, or dark…so we can deep sleep and be on Spain Time tomorrow. Exhausted, sore back, sore feet, sore head…doing great! Also…what a luxury to travel with someone..in the airport or anywhere to be able to say, “here, hold this, I will be right back…” rather than lugging everything in and out of stores, bathrooms, etc.. tomorrow we head to Blanes, Spain…Airbnb for two nights, but we are brewing other plans….stay tuned!

3 notes · View notes

alyandajsource · 2 years

Photo

iamaj: Throwing it back to this incredibly important moment. Speaking at the @marchforourlives event in NY last month 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Please read the comments for full transcript of Aly and I’s speech 🧡

Aly- In the early hours of April 3rd, just after playing our first show of a 35 city tour, AJ & I and our band and crew survived a mass shooting. More than 100 rounds of bullets were fired off around us as we lay at the floor of our tourbus trembling, at 2am. I’ll never forget asking our drummer to call my husband Stephen, as my heart raced & my hands shook, knowing he wasn’t on the bus, but was still at the hotel across the street. Later that evening we found out the death count. 6 people gone. Laying on sidewalks just outside the venue we played only hours before. A couple days later in Portland, we pulled up to our venue only to find out someone had been shot outside earlier that morning. And then while driving in an Uber around Atlanta on a day off, we heard gunshots being fired off in the distance. Our driver shrugged her shoulders at the sound. This should not be normal, this should not be something we “prepare” ourselves for as citizens when we walk out into the world.

AJ-When 9/11 happened security protocols at airports forever changed. Why is gun violence not treated the same way. We need to focus on raising the minimum age to buy a firearm, not allowing same day purchases, closing loopholes in state and federal background check laws, enabling more robust red flag laws, considering buybacks as instituted in countries with historically significant gun cultures, such as the UK and New Zealand, and banning semi automatic weapons once & for all. I’m tired of the argument that these types of guns are used for recreation, self defense or for hunting. They are used to kill & destroy a target upon contact. They are weapons of war. Aly & I actually grew up shooting. Our parents even owned guns. We know well about gun safety, how they should be properly stored & safety protocols at shooting ranges. But after the string of deaths that continue to flood our news, I never want to step foot on a shooting range again. I never want to shoot a gun “for fun” again. There is nothing fun about guns when you know the damage they can do. Yes you can be a responsible gun owner but this line of argument misses the obvious problem in front of us. We’ve personally seen the violence when guns are easily and readily available. The certainty of something terrible happening, repeatedly, again and again, until we do something about it, must guide our thinking. And it’s our responsibility as forward thinking citizens to step in & change the system.

Aly-We aren't just talking about mass shootings being the problem. We’re also talking about a child that finds a gun unlocked and accidentally kills their sibling, we’re talking about someone who’s in a mental health crisis and decides to end their life with a gun, we’re talking about violence, we’re talking about many different scenarios where a gun completely shatters the life of the person lost and their loved ones that are left with the after math.

AJ-After Uvalde happened Aly & I knew we had to do something beyond just donating to go fund me. We had to do something more then sending prayers inside our bunk beds on the bus late at night. More than posting hashtags on social media. We decided to share our story so it might change your view on guns. So that you can challenge your local government to do something. And if they won’t do something, we encourage you to vote them out these mid terms. They might be beholden to the gun lobby, but if we join together we can push the politicians out and elect people who will do something. We can show them with our votes that we have had enough.

Aly- I want to leave you with one more thought while we still have your attention. The other night I was standing on a street corner waiting at a burger stand & realized I was actually terrified of being gunned down while my back was turned making my order. This is a sad truth, a new reality I’m faced with, and I can only imagine the trauma others survivors face, with severely paralyzing moments they encounter daily. Amazingly, we have brave teenagers to thank for creating March for Our Lives, who are trying to shift the national consciousness. We have TEENS to thank for creating change that adults were unwilling to make. Just sit with that, it took people under the age of 21 to organize this event. That’s where we’re at. That’s the level of desperation. But it also means we have hope for the future. That no one else has to live through this.

#aly and aj #aly & aj #social media #2022 #july 4 #the text after the lone dash is the speech that aj put in the comments of this post

1 note · View note

gleekto · 2 years

Text

Fic: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You (13/?)

Short Summary: Blaine coming of age in 1969. Columbia University. Hippie!Kurt. Elliott and Sebastian as Blaine’s mentor-friends. Unironic use of ‘groovy’. Coming out and fitting in and falling in love.

Amazing Poster by @caramelcoffeeaddict

For @slayediest who gave an inspired prompt for this way back when.

Full Chapter 2 (up to day 12) is now on AO3! Read it there for easy reading (and commenting!)

Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day 6, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day 10, Day Eleven, Day 12 .

Day Thirteen: Insidious

Blaine is grateful that Elliott invited him to the diner with Sebastian on Sunday morning because his homework is a lost cause. He knows they likely just wanted to hear the scoop from his own mouth, but he'll bite. He can't think about anything else anyways. He's giddy and distracted on no sleep at all once he got back from the dance in the early morning. He half skips, half floats down the street, running only on adrenaline. It was the best night of his life. Holding Kurt, kissing Kurt, Kurt in his arms. He keeps touching his lips, still tingling, still tired, like he finished a workout and he knows it's good for him. He'll have to sleep another time, right now he just wants to bottle up this feeling and savour it.

He sits down at the table, knowing he has to play it way cooler than he feels. Whatever. People hook up at dances. No big deal.

"You look like you didn't sleep much last night?" Elliott muses, clearly waiting for some details. It's not like they don't know already. Nosy.

“So how was your walk of shame this morning?" Sebastian is blunt as always. "I mean I assume it was at Kurt’s because you have a roommate. Or did you put sock on your door and Sam-”

“No Sebastian, we didn’t. You know, I’m from small town Ohio and so is Kurt. I’ve never,” Oh god. He didn't mean to say that. Especially not to Sebastian.

“Was that your first kiss?” Sebastian asks, looking like he's ready to pinch his cheeks again. Ugh.

“Maybe - yes. Whatever. Can you try to remember when you were a freshman?”

“Trust me you don’t want to know Sebastian’s freshman history,” Elliott dismisses.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I was a hot blooded young man.”

"I'm sure I don't want to know it," Blaine shakes his head. "Though he obviously shared it with you."

“Of course. But I only listened out of boyfriend necessity," Elliott says with an impish look. "In retrospect, thinking about it is kind of hot.” Blaine gets sweaty just thinking about doing anything with Kurt. Even what they did last night, fully clothed. His heart hasn't stopped racing.

"Is he your steady, Blaine?" Sebastian sing songs. Blaine knows there's mockery there but he just doesn't care.

"Slow down, everyone. We just kissed," Though Blaine definitely does not feel like the 'just' belongs in that sentence. For the first time in his life he feels unlocked, desired, allowed to want more. "No going steady, no talks yet, no," Blaine pauses, "sex." He quickly pushes the image away. Now is not the time. "Who knows what Kurt's thinking?"

"Ahhh there's that insidious Blaine cautiousness. Blaine, we are not going through this again," Elliott warns. "I know what he wants. You know what he wants. So do something about it, okay?"

...

Blaine waits until what he deems an appropriate hour - 8pm - to give Kurt a call. He doesn't want to interrupt dinner but doesn't want to call too late. There is so much he wants to say to Kurt.

"So who did you focus on for that jazz assignment?" is the first thing out of his mouth.

Kurt laughs. "Hi Blaine."

"Hi Kurt. It's due tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Kurt says. He sounds amused. But happy. So Blaine will take it. "Bebop and Thelonius Monk," Kurt answers though Blaine had already forgotten the question. "I'm almost done. Didn't get as much done today as I'd hoped."

"Me neither," Blaine says. "I stayed out too late last night."

"Mmmm," He feels like he can hear Kurt smiling his hum on the other end. "Must have been a good time." He wants to kiss him again.

"It was. I hooked up with someone I've noticed for a long time."

"For a long time, huh?" Kurt muses.

"Since I saw him on my first day of class, actually."

"I hope he's good looking."

"Hottest guy I've met this year."

"The hottest?"

"No one compares."

"It's ironic because the same thing happened to me last night. I thought the guy wasn't interested but it turns out he was. He's cost me good work time on my assignment today."

"Better have been worth it."

"He's a pretty good kisser," Kurt is equivocal. The conversation is ridiculous. Blaine loves it.

“Only pretty good?”

“We need to practice.”

"Definitely," Blaine nods though no one can see him. It's a good idea - even if they're naturals. Practice makes perfect.

"Kurt," Blaine breaks first. "I had a really good time last night."

"Me too."

"And in addition to wanting to know your jazz topic, I also was wondering if you'd like to go see Oliver! with me on Saturday night?"

"Just us?"

"Just us."

"A chance to practice?"

"Of course. It's important."

"Very."

#klaine spring fling #can't take my eyes off of you #gleekto writes

32 notes · View notes

imaloserbbyxoxo · 3 years

Text

Dabi as a dad. That's it. That's the post.

please keep in mind i suck at writing so im sorry if this his terrible i'm just trying to make myself feel better

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was late at night. Dabi wasn't sure what time it was, but he could only assume it was around two in the morning. He was unbelievably exhausted and worn out. So much work had to be done lately for the league and Shikaraki was running him ragged from all the orders and tasks he was assigned.

So much work had to be done, that he hadn't been able to sleep for the past day and a half. His body was starting to shut down, but he knew he had to keep on until the jobs were completed.

People in the league were the only ones that knew this secret Dabi had. He had a whole other life ever since three years ago. He had become a father. He never knew it would happen, he never even planned it. Honestly? He never really wanted to be a father, but ever since she was born, he was in love. A beautiful baby girl. Who would have ever thought? A son, maybe. But a girl? Whoa. That's a whole knew level.

Dabi and Y/N had been together for 2 years before the birth of their daughter. He really did love Y/N, but for some reason unknown to him, having a little girl made the love go even deeper. He never imagined he could love anyone, much less Y/N. His whole world was steadily changing around him, and he was doing all he could to cope with it.

The one thing hard about everything going on, was he had to be away from home. Away from his girls. Y/N knew he was in the league and everything that was going on in his life. She knew when they got together. She didn't mind it, really. Just as long as Dabi was safe. But she knew he would be. He was a really tough and tedious guy. He was constantly careful, no matter how big or how small the task.

But Dabi couldn't' help but stress about the girls at home by themselves. He had become so protective over them the past few years, and hated that they had to be alone most of the time. Nothing made him more relaxed than hearing their voices and laughs. It melted him, in a good way.

----

After walking down this street Dabi found himself on, he cut down an alley. Once he walked down it a few feet, he leaned his back against the cold, stone wall of a building, and slid down it until he collapsed on the ground. Automatically, his eyes started to feel heavy. He needed to rest so bad. Maybe just a few minutes wouldn't hurt. Leaning his head back against the wall, he slowly started to drift away into sleep.

Time had passed and he hadn't moved. It only felt like a few minutes, but apparently it was about an hour of him napping. He was awoken by a tune on his phone. Normally, he would have ignored it, but this particular tune was set to only Y/N's contact, so he quickly pulled it out of his pocket.

Before answering, he glanced at the time. Four in the morning. What was she doing up? Dabi's heart started to race. He couldn't help but think that something was wrong. He hastily answered.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"...daddy?"

"Yes, baby? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I had a bad dream."

Dabi hadn't noticed, but his muscles were tense. Once he heard the words 'bad dream', he softened. Everything was okay. He knew it was, because even though it's unfortunate, nightmares were almost a daily occurrence with his daughter. From the trauma of his childhood, Dabi had aquired nightmares and night terrors of his own. Unfortunetly, his daughter picked up that trait. On a positive note, he knew how to deal with them more than Y/N did, so whenever this happened, he was the one to go to. Thank goodness the kid hadn't had any actual night terrors. Yet. Just bad dreams.

Rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, he tiredly smiled and spoke. "You had a bad dream, huh?"

"Yeah. It was about you this time."

Dabi's smile faded. Most of the girl's nightmares where just simple things that kids fear, but the ones about him and Y/N were becoming more and more frequent. It was becoming concerning, but he just had to shrug it off. For her. He was still knew to this whole father thing, but one thing he did know was that you shouldn't' show worry in front of a kid, or they will start to worry. So he did just that. He blew off the worry in his mind for now and just had to focus on the kid.

"About me, huh?"

"Yeah! You had died in it."

"Is that why you're calling? Where you scared?"

"A little."

Y/N shouted from the background. "Don't let her lie! She woke up crying."

Dabi scoffed and smiled. "My poor kiddo..." he thought.

"You? Scared? I thought you weren't scared of anything, just like your daddy."

"I wasn't scawed! I am just like you daddy! Big and strong!"

His heart melted in a mix of good and bad feelings. He hoped she would grow up strong willed like him, but...not how he truly was deep down. All the trauma, all the pent up anger, all the troubles he has caused.

"Be strong like me, but kind like your mother."

"Okay daddy. I will!"

"Okay, baby. Can you hand the phone to mommy, please? I love you. Go back to bed and don't be scared. I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Okay daddy! I wub you!"

Dabi smiled. "Love you too, kiddo. Good night."

"Night daddy."

Shuffling noises were heard on the other end of the line. A different voice came on.

"I'm sorry to bother you while your working, babe. She wanted to talk to you and wouldn't take no as an answer."

"It's alright, doll. I wasn't busy right now anyways."

"Are you doing okay? Staying safe?"

"Yes, of course. You know that."

After a few more minutes of talking, Y/N said her goodbyes. She had to put the girl to sleep now and try to get some rest herself. Dabi said his goodbyes in return, saying I love you, and hung up his phone. He stood up from his resting position, and gathered up the strength to continue his work.

"Alright, back at it I suppose."

He lazily walked out of the alley

and back around the corner. He was met by a familiar face.

His boss, Shigaraki. His silver hair was long, down to the base of his neck, and he was wearing his trademark coat. They all had been working so much lately, that they didn't have the time to take care of themselves. Shigaraki specifically. His scratch marks were getting worse from his scratching due to stress. His hair was getting to long, because he didn't have the time to take care of it. Dabi knew better than to say anything though. Shigaraki had been on edge lately, and probably wouldn't hesitate to take care of Dabi's attitude in his own way.

"What are you doing here, dusty?"

Shigaraki scratched his neck a little, looking up at Dabi. "I followed you to make sure you were doing your tasks. You were the last stop before going back to the base. I've already checked on everyone else."

"Save the best for last, huh?"

"Whatever, patchwork. I couldn't help but over hear your conversation."

Dabi looked at him with tired eyes. "Oh yeah?"

"Do you miss them?"

"Well, duh. Of course I do." He changed his tune to a sarcastic one. "But you have to have these missions done, right?" It might have been the exhaustion talking, but damnit Dabi just wanted to go home. He missed his bed. The way the house smelled like candles because Y/N had an obsession with them. The way his little girl would run to him when he would walk in the door. He missed cuddling both of them in bed, as his daughter would drift to sleep watching tv. He missed it so much, he couldn't put it into words. He wanted to go home more than anything right now. But work had to be done.

As Dabi was in thought, his face contorted into distraught and exhaustion, and Shigaraki noticed. Maybe it was something in the weather this early morning, but he actually got a kind bone in his body.

"Go home, Dabi."

Dabi looked at him in shock. "But I'm not done-"

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Go home. I can tell your getting exhausted, and I don't need you passing out on me. I need you at your full potential. So go home and rest. Take as much time as you need." Shigaraki started to walk away. "I know you'll be back when your done resting so I'm not worried."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Again, I am so sorry if this is bad. Also, I'm sorry for that ending. it's kinda shit, but I'm kinda afraid of writing more because I might ruin it. Anyways.... OTL;

@dabiboy @deviousspleen @toyas-wife

<3 IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED JUST LET ME KNOW <3

#dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi as a dad #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #touya todoroki #touya is dabi #dabi is touya #toya todoroki

331 notes · View notes

bucksfucks · 3 years

Text

amorosa // steve rogers

chapter five: paris, france

chapter one // chapter two // chapter three

chapter four // chapter five

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

main masterlist

series masterlist

summary || steve takes you to paris to accompany him to a business gala where you meet an old friend and partner, discovering some secrets about your steven.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve x reader

word count || 2,023 words

warnings || financial struggles, sugar daddy dynamics, daddy kink, undefined age gap, minor panic attack, angst — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

When Steve said that the private jet was learning first thing in the morning, he meant it. It was three in the morning, the sun not even close to being up as you rode through the empty and dimly lit New York streets with Steve's hand on your thigh.

He decided to drive, sometimes you thought he was superhuman, running off of only a few hours of sleep, yet wide awake and alert.

You envied him as your head lolled to the side as drowsiness washed over you. You yawned, big and loud as Steve chuckled.

"You can sleep on the plane, Princess. I know early mornings aren't your thing." He teased as you shot him a tired look, but smiled as you placed your hand over his.

When you opened your eyes next the car had stopped in the middle of the runway, a sleek private jet in front of you as your eyes went wide with excitement. You'd never gotten anywhere close to a private jet, the closest thing being bumped up to business class on accident.

"Is this it?" You asked, sitting up as Steve opened his door, "sure is, buttercup." He winks, coming around to open your door and help you up. The air was cold, the smell of frost faint in the air as Steve wraps his arm around you.

"I've never been on a private jet," you mumble, more so to yourself as Steve laughs in response. He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs of the jet until you're entering the lavish cabin.

"Then by all means, Princess, let me be the first to introduce you to them." He purrs from behind you, arms snaking around your waist as you take in the clean leather and polished surfaces.

"Steve this is…" you're at a loss for words, mouth agape as you spin around to plant your lips on his. You're standing on your toes, arms hastily thrown around his neck as Steve lets out a surprised grunt before catching his balance on the nearby wall.

"All for you." Steve finishes your sentence and you just about melt in his arms.

He chuckles when you explore the rest of the jet, taking the time to talk with his pilot, Léon, about the flight plan. Their voices are hushed as you enter the back of the plane, walking into the bathroom to take a moment for yourself.

It's a lot, overwhelmingly so and you start to feel your heart racing when you think of Steve.

You've loved before, but have you been in love? The realization causes your breathing to become shallower as you wonder if these past few months have been a whirlwind romance destined to burn out like the brightest flame?

Or perhaps this bubbling feeling deep in the pit of your stomach has been blossoming, nearly blooming into what so many people refer to as love?

You gasp when you hear soft knocking on the door, "are you all right, buttercup?" It's Steve, and the nickname causes butterflies to flock to your chest as you swallow your feelings.

"Just checking out the bathroom," you giggle and well, it wasn't a lie.

He smiles, taking your hand, "pick a seat, Princess, we take-off soon." Steve says before you're sliding into one of the comfortable, almost too comfortable seats and buckling into it. Steve's hand is in yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knuckles as you feel the same swell in your chest.

Paris, France.

You'd never been, although you don't think you'll ever want to leave.

When you arrive it's late in the evening, the bustling city life is alive and well as the car drives from one end of the city to the other and you still can't believe your eyes as you pass by the lit up Eiffel Tower.

The hotel room is nothing but lavish, with tall windows, balconies, gold and champagne detailing and the largest bed you'd ever seen. The sheets are soft and clean and you want nothing more than to collapse into bed with Steve.

The bathroom has a claw-foot tub, a full shower, and four sinks along with a velvet chaise.

"How about a shower, Princess?" Steve asks, sitting on the bed as you fall back onto it. His voice is coarse and rough, no doubt tired from the many hours of travelling as your tired eyes meet him as you nod.

"Here," Steve stops you when your fingers hook under your shirt, "let me," he offers before slowly undressing you.

The bathroom is quiet, nothing but the sound of running water heard as Steve removes your clothing before shedding his. The moment is soft, gentle and caring as his touches are featherlight.

Once the water hits your tired body, you let out a sigh of relief. It's warm, your muscles relaxing under the stream as Steve steps behind you. The glass door fogs up, encasing you in your own world as Steve's hands knead over your tight shoulders.

"Just relax, Princess. Let Daddy take care of you tonight." He whispers in your ear, it's not sultry, but instead washes an overwhelming wave of relief over you as you let Steve take care of washing your body.

A fluffy towel is wrapped around your body before the cold air even has time to hit your body. By then the water has lulled you into a state where all you want is for your head to hit the bed, engulfed by the covers as Steve's steady heartbeat soothes you to sleep.

You aren't really aware of when you get into bed, all you know is Steve is telling you goodnight, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you're thrust into a state of comatose.

The sound of quiet voices is what wakes you, bright sunlight streaming through the nearly translucent curtains making you squint as you let out a groan. You aren't sure how long you've been asleep, but it's probably far too long.

You roll over, the alarm clock reading 11:37 and yup, you've definitely overslept.

Who cares, you're in fucking Paris.

"There's my girl," Steve beams, walking into the bedroom dressed in a casual, yet professional attire. Simple fitted slacks and a tight button down that's not done up all the way with the sleeves rolled up.

You smile as he presses his lips to yours.

"I've got some business to take care of this morning, okay? I shouldn't be more than a few hours." He explains as you give him a small pout. "I've ordered breakfast to the room, take your time gettin' ready. Tonight's the big gala so your dresses should be here soon, along with hair and makeup."

Your eyes nearly bug out at the sound of his words, hair and makeup? Multiple dresses?

"Don't act so surprised, buttercup. You know Daddy takes care of his girl," he smirks before standing up to his full height.

"Guess I'll just have to find the best pastries alone," you playfully retort, "I love croissants, remember that." Steve winks before he's giving you one last kiss and disappearing out into the Parisian streets.

Paris was breathtaking, beautiful, and everything you could've dreamed of.

Yet you couldn't help feel out of place as you walked through the streets alone, soft music playing through your headphones as you tried to scout out the best café in the city.

You felt stares on you as you tried to keep your head down, people stopping as they looked at you. Maybe you were in your own head, but you could've sworn you saw people take out their phones to… take pictures of you?

No, you had to be in your own head.

The hotel was in your sights as you bolted in its direction, a text message from Steve prompting you that everything would be arriving at the hotel soon and that he was on his way back to get ready.

Your heart hammered, thumping as you realized that you would be on Steve's arm as he introduces you as… his girlfriend.

"You okay, Princess? You've been quiet this entire ride." Steve asks, fingers lacing with yours as you look down at the gold satin dress you've chosen for the night. It compliments all your best aspects, the colour great on you as you nod your head.

"Just nervous." You mumble, it was the truth as you felt your stomach churning as you approached the banquet hall. It was gorgeous, lavish from the outside and you couldn't imagine how much nicer it would be on the inside.

"You've got nothin' to worry about. I won't leave your side, promise." Steve says softly, holding out his pinky for you to hook yours against it. You giggle, doing it as your worries vanish for a split second.

When you walk into the hall it's littered with people wearing their most expensive gowns, suits, and jewellery as Steve grabs to flutes of champagne.

"For the nerves," he jokes and you take it, the bubbly alcohol running down your throat distracting you for a second before Steve's hand is on your lower back, leading you through the people.

"Hey Punk!" The voice that shouts it is low and deep, hearty and boisterous as Steve whips around with the biggest grin on his face.

"You Jerk," Steve replies playfully, the two embracing in a hug as you take a good look at the other man.

He's slightly shorter than Steve, dark brown hair in a loose messy bun paired in an all-black suit. If that didn't make him look intimidating enough, he's got a black and gold prosthetic to match his aesthetic.

"So this the dame that's captured your heart?" The man smirks, casting his eyes on you as you can't help but feel your body flush.

"Sure is, this is James." He introduced you, your name squeaking past your lips as you shake his hand. James rolls his eyes at Steve, pressing a kiss to your hand as you admire the cool shade of blue his eyes are.

"Call me Bucky, Doll." He comments as Steve claps his hand over his shoulder, shaking his body as you're thrown into conversation with the two men.

It's a strange sight, seeing Steve being thrown around by whom you learned to be his childhood best friend turned business partner some years ago. Though you must admit that you like Bucky, he seems like a good influence on Steve.

"Here, I'll go grab up some more drinks," Steve offers, standing up to press a kiss to your cheek before striding off to the bar leaving you and Bucky alone.

"You know I gotta admit Doll, I'm real surprised that Steve's found someone." Bucky muses, fixing his collar before turning to you. Your expression is full of confusion as you silently press him to explain himself.

"After Peggy, I really didn't think the kid had it in him to love again, but here we are." He smiles, it's not malicious or venomous, it's a genuine smile but your heart has dropped into your stomach and all you can hear is the ringing in your ears.

"Peggy?" Is all you can manage to ask as your heart begins to hammer in your chest.

"Steve's ex-wife, he didn't tell you about her?" Bucky asks and suddenly he's got a remorseful, regretful look on his face as you shake your head, "no."

"Paris has the best champagne," Steve breaks the conversation as you look up to meet his eyes, trying to hide your hurt as you take the delicate flute between your fingers.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you say with a tight-lipped smile. You don't wait a response, quickly seeking out the nearest bathroom before you're holding yourself over the sink, trying to calm your breathing.

Bucky's words continue to replay in your mind, an ex-wife, an ex-wife that he chose to keep secret? You felt tears brimming your eyes and you wanted to scold yourself for thinking a man of his power had no dirty secrets.

How ironic to have your heart broken in the city of love.

any and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

#steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #sugar daddy!steve #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers one shots #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers series

370 notes · View notes

blackwidow-bby · 3 years

Text

Never Be The Same- Mafia!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: Mafia Boss au but y/n kidnaps the mafia boss

Warnings: Cursing, violence, gun mention and gun use, kidnapping

AN: I saw this prompt from a tiktok where someone asked "your favorite trope but reverse" so I did it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't often that you got anonymous letters sent to you by someone looking for your "services". You had left the spy life years ago with a little help from the Witness Protection Program in order to pursue a much quieter life doing...well currently you were just working as a florist. Before that you cleaned headstones at the towns local graveyard, which was scarily a lot bigger than the town you were in. You had quit that job when you got the first anonymous letter on the steps of the shed where you kept your tools. The thought of someone knowing where you worked, hell, who you were, especially when they shouldn't spooked you more than working in the graveyard around sunset.

The request wasn't for anything serious. A simple adult-napping job of some woman. The stranger who left the note definitely specified that they wanted the target alive. It would have been an easy job with some extra cash to put in your pocket, but instead you jumped ship and quit that day and moved to another apartment complex. You even went so far as to get a P.O. Box instead of using the complex's mail. The threat wasn't that big to get the government involved in relocating you again.

You almost you wish you could go back in time to the early morning before you received the letter by some covered stranger. Your skin turned white when you saw the simple little envelope with your old agent code name; Viper.

Sneaky and deadly, you always knew the perfect moment to strike. Whoever this person was had to have also been an old agent from the same organization you worked for. That was the only way you could explain away the anxiety that boiled in the pit of your stomach. Once was an instance, but twice is a hobby, you decide you'll at least think about taking the job. Opening the envelope, your heart started to pound quickly inside its cage. You can't believe you were about to put yourself in this position after leaving it for so long.

The letter read:

Dear Viper;

It has been many years since the last time I've seen your face, the first time I thought you were a ghost. Certainly after seeing your face again, I knew for sure my mind wasn't fooling me. It is with a heavy heart that I ask for your help. Unfortunately a family member of mine had found themselves in trouble with a mafia member. Unable to keep their end of whatever bargain, the mob killed him. I need you to find the person who did this to my brother and bring them to me completely unharmed. I want them conscious, I want my face to be the last ting they see before I get revenge for a member of my family ceasing to live among those that loved them.

The target's name is Natasha Romanoff. At the bottom I've left a burner number and an address if you do decide to take my offer this time, the payment will be handsomely.

Much Thanks;

Otter

Natasha Romanoff? Sounds mafia enough to you. Gods, what a messed up situation to get into. Would it really be enough to possibly have to change your identity again? What if this person was important to this group and they decided to come after you? You sat in silence thinking for a long time if any of this was really worth it. There was a tiny voice that peeped up in the back of your mind. You had been kinda bored lately, this could be the spice you need to add back an old pep in your step.

It was decided. You'll get to work searching for this person in the morning. Wow, that took so much persuasion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got started early the next day. Definitely not due to not being able to sleep in the first place. Oh no. Thanks to the nerves building up over putting yourself in a shitty position. Luckily for you though, this Natasha woman wasn't hard to find at all. The mafia she was affiliated with, operated in the city near the town you lived in. They also apparently seemed to operate most of their business out of a simple pet shop. This has to be the inner workings of a screen writer, you thought to yourself.

Your nerves began to get the best of you on your walk back home. It seemed like everyone's eyes were suddenly on you, like they knew exactly what you were up to. You picked up your speed and released a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you saw the steps to your apartment complex. You quickly ran inside up to your floor and slammed the door behind you. Gosh your nerves were starting to annoy you. How did you ever make it as a top agent is beyond you thinking of the position you were currently in. All feelings aside, you pressured n to pack for the trip you'll soon be taking to the city. It was going to be another long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your trip to the city was surprisingly smooth. Light traffic. Sun was out. If not for this little mission, if you could call it that, the day would have been perfect to do some sight seeing. You found the "pet shop" just as easy as well. You set up camp on the side of the street in front of the building to see if your target would possibly show up today. You were really hoping this didn't turn into a multi-day stake out. just wanting to get all of this over as quickly as possible so you can go back into hiding again.

It took about 7 hours, well into the late afternoon, before you spotted her walk in. Surprisingly, she was alone. Perfect, time to move in. You got out of your car and casually walked around the side of the business to see if there happened to be a door. The alleyway of the building was dark enough that anyone on the street wouldn't be able to see in. The sound of a creaky metal door could be heard just around the corner. You guess the back will have to do. As you got closer to the sound, you saw the woman in the back of the building talking with a man. You couldn't make out a single word they were saying. Their conversation wasn't important though, only getting her to Otter was.

Your heart began to race as the moment to make your move came closer. This is what you had trained for your whole life. The stealth and ability to make a move without anyone around you knowing until it was too late. Your eyes trained on the red-head in the back of the building. You gave a silent prayer to whoever was listening that the person she was with, would leave her alone for just one second. That's all you needed; one second.

Suddenly, it was as if all of the puzzle pieces fell into place. He left to go back inside. Time slowed down in an instant. You immediately released a breath through your mouth and moved in. You could see every single moment, all of the steps you took right up to behind her. Watching her turn around carefully but never hearing you step up behind her. At the very last second when she had finally caught sight, one hand reached but to grab her arm and pin it behind her back while the other reached around her head with a chloroform rag to incapacitate her.

The hard part was done. The red-haired woman fell limp in your arms, so you maneuvered her into a bridal position to easily carry her to your car. Time was of the essence. Someone would be coming to look for her soon. Swiftly and quietly, you walked back through the alley and reached your car. Knowing you had some time before she woke up, you could stop later to tie her hands and legs once you were farther away from the city. You placed her down in the back seat before getting in the front and driving away. You let out the most dramatic exhale and looked for the letter Otter had given you of his number and location.

One ring

Two rings

So you did take my offer?

Yes, I'm headed to the location now.

Excellent, thank you for your work.

Yeah, whatever.

Click

You drove on for another half an hour before you reached the location. It was an old abandoned warehouse settled 20 minutes in the opposite direction from the city. The sun was completely settled at this point making the surroundings very dark. The sky had an almost purple glow from the towns nearby lights. Getting out, you circled the car to the back passenger door to remove the woman and bring her inside. She was still passed out from the chloroform only stirring slightly as you picked her up.

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you don't remember her being this heavy. Trudging the knocked out woman inside, you found a small chair and placed her down. Your timing was sort of off and thought better to tie down her hands and legs now before checking her pockets for any weapons or forms of identification. The woman's head lulled from left to right while you searched. You found a knife on her belt holster, a small revolver tucked in the back of her pants, a wallet, and a set of keys but not car keys. Her eyes started to flutter while you fingered through the wallet. Nothing important, a drivers license, a couple of business cards from the "pet store", and a what looked like a family photo. The people in the photo looked familiar to you, very familiar.

"What are you doing with that?" The woman mumbled in your direction. You looked her in the eye not saying anything. The woman was gorgeous with the single light shining down on her causing an angelic glow upon the crown of her head. Her red tresses seemed to almost burn in your presence. You looked away from her and continued to inspect the photo she kept in her wallet.

"Who are these people with you?"

Her head lulled once more, "Why do you want to know?"

"Answering a question with a question won't help you. What is your affiliation with the mafia?"

"I'm their fucking boss."

In that instance your eyes widened. Of course, that's why the men in the photo looked familiar to you. She was the fucking heir to one of the top mafia rings in the country. This idiot, Otter, wanted you to bring in the living heir and current head hancho for what she did to a simple family member that got caught up in the wrong group. The sweat was beginning to pour now that you realized you were absolutely fucked.

Before you could say anything else, Otter, the man of the hour, busted trough the doors.

"Viper! I knew I could count on you!"

"What the fuck man?! You really had me capture the fucking mafia BOSS?! We're both going to be fucked if you don't explain everything right now, Otter." You were sweating rivers at this point. Utterly frustrated and hot in the warehouse. The red-head was slowly coming to 100% but her eyes still couldn't fully focus.

"Calm down Viper. Your work is done with me. I'll cover everything up and you can go back to your quiet life."

"Over?! If you don't give me a very good reason to leave her here in your possession, I'm taking her with me." you were shouting at this point. The red-head was now staring at the both of you dumbfounded at the whole situation everyone was in.

"She killed my brother!" You swore you could see steam coming off of his head. "She killed him and left him to rot!"

"Your brother was nothing but scum who tried to steal weapons from me to sell for himself." She had responded this time. Otter quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket and aimed it at the woman.

"He would never have done anything to harm his family or himself!"

She didn't falter her glare one single bit, even with a weapon pointed at her head. "He'd be living a healthy fulfilling life had he not crossed me."

He cocked the gun this time. "Shut up you stupid bitch!"

A smirk played on her lips, she was enjoying getting a rise out of him. Like she knew something the both of you didn't know. Like she knew no matter her outcome someone would always be out there searching for both of you for the rest of your lives until you got caught, or god forbid, kill yourselves to keep from being caught. Your nerves were spiking again, you couldn't let Otter kill Natasha Romanoff.

You sucked a quick gasp. Otter didn't notice but Natasha did. You had her gun.

Natasha's eyes darted back and forth between you and Otter. He was getting upset at the fact that her attention wasn't solely on him. The arm that was holding the gun stopped its falter and held up straight to Natasha's face. "Look at me! I want my face to be the last thing you see when I kill you, you stu-"

BANG

Natasha jumped. She had seen the whole thing take place but didn't really expect you to do it. She could see the tremble in in your hands as they stayed in the same spot. Your eyes were wide, lip quivering, you couldn't believe what you had done and now you had a new problem to cover up. Natasha had a look of empathy in her eyes. You didn't want to be in this position from the get go and it had only gotten worse for you.

"Hey, look at me..." Natasha spoke up softly to break your trance. She had leaned her body towards you in a manner to reach out. "You can put the gun down, its going to be okay now." Your eyes darted down to the gun and back up to Natasha's green eyes. Still shaking you slowly lowered the gun to the ground before you walked over to her cautiously. Tears were falling down your face, the weight of the situation was hitting you. If you had never agreed to Otter's request, you would be cozied up in your bed, awaiting another new day.

Your fingers found Natasha's bound wrists. her skin was surprisingly cool to the touch. She stared at your face the whole time you unwrapped her from the chair. The fresh tears leaving clear trails down your slightly dirtied cheeks. The slight glow of your e/c eyes under the florescent lights of the warehouse. You knelt down in front of her to then remove the binding on her ankles. Something within her compelled her to reach out to you. Without even realizing it, the red-heads palm was already resting on your head. She reveled in the silky smooth feel of your h/c locks. The slight dampness from the sweat that had overcome your skin. She could feel the softness of your fingers slowly circling around her last ankle when your sad eyes looked up to hers.

"How did you manage to capture me without anyone seeing you?" Her hand slipped down to your cheek. "In all of my years, I have not once not heard someone creep up behind me the way you did."

The steady stream of tears grew heavier, your quiet life was about to be destroyed by your own need for a change. She would certainly have your feet for getting a one up on her.

"It was my job. I was known for being so light on my toes, no one could hear me coming." your voice wavered, but the words got out.

"Well I could use someone like you by my side." Natasha held out her hand to you as she got up on her feet. Not really having her ground, she nearly fell when you caught her by the waist. The two of you held your breath as you both stared deeply into each others eyes. You could swear if you inhaled, her scent would be enough to drive you mad. "My guys will cover all of this up for you."

You sat and thought about everything she said. The would would probably prove more exciting than working at a flower shop and probably be more fruitful. You smiled at her. You could feel her warm breath near your lips.

"When do I start?"

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #x reader insert #marvel #black widow x reader #mafia!Natasha romanoff #prompt fic

136 notes · View notes

iovjun · 3 years

Text

You Were Beautiful — Huang Renjun

PAIRING: huang renjun x reader

GENRE: angst, breakup au

WARNINGS: none, other than the fkn heartbreak :(

SYNOPSIS: You were a novel in itself, your pages filled with words upon words of stories and little problems you ran into. Renjun felt thankful to have appeared in a few of those lines, maybe even a whole chapter filled with nothing but him. But books, too, ended eventually.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

A/N: this one hurt ngl :D TELL ME HOW I DID? DID IT MAKE YOU FEEL? (honorary tag to @yoongistoesuwu who’s always a part of my writing process <3)

The dirt under your nails never felt more uncomfortable. Your little plants stared up at you, their pale green color sickening to look at. Once standing strong and tall, they were now reduced to wilted, feeble, pathetic things. It was a terrible feeling, knowing that you neglected them and they were dying because of you.

You quietly hummed a song as you dusted your hands off and grabbed the small watering can, returning it to it’s temporary spot on the counter. The sun was low in the sky, its golden color washing over the kitchen and your skin. Its beams shone through the wide windows, barely filtered by the thin white curtain.

When you first picked this apartment, the view was one of the many things you loved about it. High above the ground, the city skyline was definitely a sight for sore eyes, especially during these hours when the clouds became an artist’s canvas, a splash of color across the horizon.

As you looked out the window and took a sip of water, the door opened behind you but you didn’t turn. You knew it was just Renjun, and you didn’t have to see him to know that he was probably in that favorite sweater of his, keys dangling from one finger and his phone in his hand.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual.

“Hey,” you acknowledged, twisting to watch him set his keys down.

“Did you eat already?” He opened the fridge, but you already knew it was empty. He realized that fact, closing it and turning away.

You replied, “No.”

“Oh.”

That was it. He didn’t make eye contact, he didn’t come up to give you a kiss, he didn’t invite you to eat elsewhere. He walked away, probably to go sit on the bed while he scrolls through his phone and you stay in the kitchen, watching the sun bid farewell.

When the light faded completely the kitchen was dark but you didn’t bother turning on the lights. The city outside glowed lively and even in this quiet moment you could still hear the honking cars and bustling streets below, sounds you’ve grown accustomed to since moving to the city. The feeling inside you was one you’ve become all too familiar with, yet when put to words you came up blank.

You were never much of a poet anyway, not like Renjun.

The glass of water in your hands was now empty—this you discovered as you brought it back up to your lips for another sip. Sighing, you put in the sink and looked at the time. It was past ten already, how long had you been standing there? The lights outside had been so mesmerizing, so alive, you could get caught up watching other people live their lives while you forget about yours.

Eventually you slipped into bed, wincing at the stone cold sheets. You knew Renjun’s sleeping body was beside you but you pushed that notion away, closing your eyes and trying to get rid of every thought that kept you up at night. Getting good sleep these days was becoming less and less often, but you weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the fact that the person on the other side of the bed turned his back to you every night, and you always drifted off knowing you wouldn’t wake up in his arms the next morning. At this point you felt numb, tears wouldn’t even fall from your eyes anymore, you weren’t even sure what you felt could be described as sadness or anger.

The next day you squinted at your plants on the window sill, trying to determine if they looked better or worse. You supposed it was too early to tell, you barely tended to them the evening before.

Staring out the window was starting to be all too common for you and you hated it. You hated seeing the city outside, the sidewalks you used to walk with Renjun and the cafe events you would attend with him. And sometimes there would be a stray cat in an alley that would, by some miracle, let Renjun pet him. He would pull you in, his hand still grasping yours tightly, and jokingly asked if you could take it home, eyes bright like a child in a toy store. You would chuckle, shaking your head at him and reminding him that pets weren’t allowed in your apartment. Of course, he already knew that but it was a running joke between the both of you.

How you hated those big windows.

Hastily turning, you grabbed your jacket and keys before you let your thoughts wander too far. You reached out to the door but it swung open and you came face to face with Renjun who was arriving as scheduled.

He recoiled in shock and coughed awkwardly, letting go of the doorknob and relaxing his arm. “Hey, were you going somewhere?” he asked, looking away from your eyes.

You stepped back to let him in. “Um, not really,” was your answer. “Why?”

“I just—” he began, bringing up his arm to show a paper bag in his hand. “I brought some food. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s eat then,” you murmured, and with that he walked in, setting down the bag and slipping off his sweater. You caught a whiff of him as he walked by, the scents from outside mixing with his usual aroma. He smelled of spring rain over a jasmine field, it always reminded you of the fresh flowers the waiters at your favorite cafe used to place in each vase.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The type of silence that had its hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the life out of you, making you clench your fist with force.

Looking back at this scene, no one would’ve ever guessed that just a couple months ago you were engaged to this man.

The food in front of you was spread out in all its glory, just the sight of it was enough to make your mouth water. Renjun sat across from you, his head lowered as he took in the food. You noticed, looking at the logo on the bag, that it was from an unfamiliar restaurant. Your stomach growled in hunger but you didn’t eat.

You couldn’t eat. It felt strange, like you were dining with a stranger. You were conscious of every second that ticked by, every breath you took, every time Renjun moved the slightest inch. It was just too uncomfortable. Perhaps he felt the same, as he grasped his eating utensil tightly, doing nothing more than stare at the meal.

You held in a disappointed sigh, shifting in your seat awkwardly. Neither of you were big talkers anyway, but this wasn’t the comfortable silence you were accustomed to with Renjun.

“How was work?” you asked in a small voice, straightening your back when he lifted his head to look at you.

“It was fine.”

The reality of the situation was becoming too clear. Rain pattered the windows, you could hear the laugh of a passerby in the hallway, probably coming from a late Saturday party. The white, clean walls of a spacey kitchen never felt so small, so suffocating. You were like a burning match, and Renjun was the oxygen that could either blow you out or feed your flames.

By now he would’ve talked your ear off about the managers at work who seemed too demanding for his taste, or the girls that would constantly hit on him, or he would bring up the small succulent you gifted him a while ago that he took care of every day while working. You wondered about his friends and his coworkers, wondering how they were doing. He never talked about them anymore. He didn’t talk about anything anymore, in fact, not with you.

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes anymore.

You had to leave. You stood, the sound of your chair scraping across the linoleum floor harshly ripping through the thick silence. It was pouring outside but you needed to get away. Renjun didn’t move, he knew you both needed it for now. He let you walk past him, heading out the door with only your keys and phone in hand.

It was eating him inside out. You used to look at him with entire galaxies in your eyes, your smile that lit the world brighter than Renjun had ever seen. It was on rainy nights like this that he would take you out to the park and you would sit on a bench, sharing the same umbrella but getting soaked anyway. You would both chuckle at the people running by, hurrying to get some shelter in the cold rain and he would wrap his arm around you, pulling you in so close. The pleasant feeling in your chest was warmer than any jacket you’ve ever worn.

The stars would fall mercy at your feet, for you shined brighter than any of them. Renjun could spend hours painting you, just you. The dainty way your hand held his, the lips that whispered sleepy “l love you’s” every morning, your luscious hair that would tickle him from time to time. And when you laughed, Renjun loved you even more then. Even if it was a quiet, content laugh, or a loud chortle that left you breathless, he could never get enough of it.

It was so cliché but Renjun used to love you like that.

The following day was equally as bleak as the one before.

You stood by the window once again, watching the raindrops race to the bottom of the glass, remembering the times you did that as a child, betting with yourself to see which one made it down first.

This time the sun was nowhere to be seen, obscured by the heavy gray clouds that cried tears. Fog covered the buildings outside like a morbid blanket, and you could feel the chilly air seeping in through the glass when you placed your fingertips on it.

Today was your anniversary with Renjun, and you could only hope that something good came out of the dinner you prepared.

You took your time waiting in the kitchen, watering your flora who were also looking a bit brighter even without the sun. Smiling as you looked down at them, thinking about how they were something to look forward to in your black and white world.

Glancing at the time, you noticed it was getting a bit late, but that was a lie. You were getting ahead of yourself. Renjun was usually on time, arriving around 7:30 pm, and it was barely 7:50. You hoped he didn’t forget what day it was because it would make things even more awkward.

Just as you were placing the last plate on the table, the door opened and Renjun entered, his trademark sweater on and keys in hand. At least that was one thing about him that never changed.

He saw what you had prepared and, for the first time in a while, you saw a small smile on his face. Before you could greet him, he held out his hand, a little flower peeking out from his grasp.

“Happy anniversary,” he said softly.

Your heart sank. It was a single jasmine blossom, a flower that used to be your favorite.

Used to be.

You wouldn’t put it against Renjun for not knowing how much you despised that flower now, hating the sickly sweet smell that drove your anxiety up the wall.

Renjun smelled of spring rain over a jasmine field.

Nonetheless, you plucked the flower from his hand and inhaled its scent, ignoring the way it made your stomach churn as you gently smiled at him. “Happy anniversary,” you repeated, struggling to keep your smile bright. “I made dinner.”

Once the both of you sat down, you tapped your fingers on the table, contemplating if you should fight the silence or let it win again today. Renjun seemed to be deep in thought as well, his hands folded on his lap and his brows furrowed in that way they do when he’s focused on something. His eyes were fixated on your restless hand, and you couldn’t help but assume he was staring at the empty spot where your ring used to be. You clenched your fist and retracted it, mirroring his pose with your hands in your lap. Renjun shook out of his daze and pursed his lips, stabbing at the food on his plate.

“Why are we even doing this?” you spoke, your voice a bit wobbly.

Renjun didn’t even have to ask to know what you were talking about, yet he still felt his heart squeeze at your question. “I don’t know.”

“We’re basically roommates, Renjun. We’re two people that live in the same house but never interact. Why do we keep doing this?” The volume of your voice escalated desperately, and you searched him for an answer but he didn’t look up.

“I don’t know!” he blurted out forcefully.

You pushed your plate away, your appetite suddenly gone. “I don’t think we can make this work anymore.” He stayed silent while you continued. “I’m miserable—we both are.”

The truth was Renjun was afraid of letting you go. He was afraid of coming home to an empty house, of sleeping in an empty bed, of having no one to console him when he was upset. You and him used to live in harmony at some point, a routine where you would understand each other and work together. He’d grown so used to you, the idea of you, that he felt sick thinking of a life without you.

He was afraid of being alone.

Outside the rain came down in waves. It pounded on the window, asking for attention while you waited for Renjun to say something.

He didn’t.

Instead, the sky roared with thunder and a faroff bolt of lightning struck the ground, lighting up the world momentarily. The lightbulb above you flickered once then gave out, as did the rest of the light sources throughout the kitchen. The refrigerator stopped humming, the AC stopped clicking, and the numbers on the microwave faded away, leaving you to stare at your ex-fiancé in the dark.

Renjun couldn’t stand the way you looked at him anymore. Though some of the light in your eyes had faded, they were still filled with hope and trust. At the end of the day you continued to wait for him with open arms. He felt undeserving of your love.

You left the table first, the food laying untouched while Renjun let you walk away again. If he had anything to say in that moment, it stayed painfully lodged in his throat, his own pride choking him up.

A couple months ago, your first fights were terrible. You both raised your voices, ignored each other, even refused to sleep in the same bed (Renjun would stay with a friend when it got bad). He never liked thinking about those times, regretting each and every word he ever directed at you and hating the pain in your expression after. He especially disliked recalling the tears in your eyes when you slid the diamond ring off your finger and placed it in his palm.

After silently clearing the table and checking the breakers, Renjun found his way to the bedroom in the dark, seeing your curled up form under the covers. He didn’t acknowledge you as he slid in next to you, turning his back like always and pulling the covers up to his chin, careful not to pull your side too much.

He closed his eyes but did not sleep, his thoughts running too rampant to let him. Even if he did sleep, he dreamt only of you. Of when you first met, of your first date, of the day he got on one knee and asked for your hand. He could never forget the happiness in your voice, the jubilant smile you wore beautifully.

“Renjun,” he heard you whisper into the inky bedroom, the sound just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m cold.”

It was anything but cold under the blankets, but Renjun did feel chilled, hollow. Like he was disconnected from his body somehow. “I know,” he replied quietly. “Me too.”

You didn’t respond but he turned, cautiously putting his arm around you and you let him, tears springing to your eyes. It had been a while since you laid in this position with him, you nestled in his chest while he buried his nose in your neck or hair and he was so close you could feel each breath he took. It felt strange yet familiar, like that sense of déjà vu you get when it feels like you already went through something. But maybe your brain conjured up this bittersweet dream, maybe this reality was just in your head.

Maybe Renjun would still love you when you woke up.

“Your flowers are dead.”

Renjun stood by the window, a dry, wilted leaf resting on his finger. He studied it for a moment, and then let it go. It crumbled to pieces.

“I don’t care about them anymore,” you voiced. “It took me too much effort to keep them alive.”

He nodded in understanding, though he knew those plants meant a lot to you. Sometimes on days when you were tired, he’d remind you to water them or even do it himself. Not once had your flowers ever looked the way they did now—dull, withered, dead.

A long, painful beat of silence passed. Renjun gazed out the window, taking in the familiar sun that hasn’t shown itself in days. The heavy clouds had finally lifted that day, revealing a fading orange and red sky. You watched him from the counter, the way the golden light bounced off his skin, creating a heavenly, ethereal glow. The silver bracelet he wore on his wrist reflected the beams, projecting them onto the ceiling above.

You looked down, away from the man who you promised your life to once upon a time. A million thoughts raced through your head, too cryptic to comprehend. All you knew was that whatever you and Renjun had hurt too much to keep going. Clenching your fist, you braced yourself for your next words.

“Let’s end this Renjun.”

For once, he turned to look at you, his eyes dry of tears but filled with pain. Every fiber of his being screamed for you, to be happy in your arms again, to hear the words ‘my love’ fall from your lips one more time. He bit his lip and pushed down those longing thoughts, the ones that were on his mind far too much these days.

He made the hardest decision of his life—he chose to let go of you. On that day, that minute, that split second, he looked into your eyes and knew it was the end of a love story.

Renjun knew he loved you, but he fell out of love with you a long time ago.

You were once his morning and night sky, his sunflower fields, his walk in the clouds. Whoever the creator was smiled upon you, blessing you with a kind of spirit that brought peace and adventure at the same time. Being with you felt like an impulsive car ride along the coastline, the wind blowing your hair wildly, screaming and throwing your arms up as if it was a rollercoaster ride. Or like a lazy afternoon, sleeping the whole day while the sun made its path across the sky, only being woken up by kisses and giggles and legs tangled in the bedsheets.

Beyond your monotonous life were other people also moving on. Friends came and went, that random stranger you saw on the street you would probably never see again, enjoying an unfamiliar song in a cafe that would slip your mind as soon as you left. People lived, people died, but the world kept revolving, never stopping, never giving anyone a break.

That was the beauty of it.

Renjun didn’t feel angry or sad or even bitter. He was thankful. He was thankful for the countless moments spent with you, for all the laughs and tears you shared, for the quiet and loud moments, for the breath of air you were to him. You were a novel in itself, your pages filled with words upon words of stories and little problems you ran into. Renjun felt thankful to have appeared in a few of those lines, maybe even a whole chapter filled with nothing but him.

But books, too, ended eventually.

The last blow to his heart was when he looked back, seeing you standing in the doorway with a wounded expression. The windows behind you were as translucent as ever, pouring light over your perfect form. Your hair flared brightly from the orange backlight and you leaned on the frame, one second away from screaming at him to come back.

He considered returning, mumbling an ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ but that would only delay the inevitable, not stop it. At the end of the day, it was still over. But it was okay, because looking back now at all the love you used to share, he realized it was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

161 notes · View notes

nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

The Aftermath

Summary: Dealing with the fall out of their first night together isn’t easy for Whitney Taylor or Chris Evans, but given the complicated results of their frivolous activities, it isn’t something they can avoid forever.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part One: Luckless Romance

Note: I was originally going to leave Luckless Romance as a one shot, but I had some requests for a part two. I had it all planned out in my head anyway so I figured I’d write it up to explain more of where our two lovely character’s heads were at!

Please let me know your thoughts! Or if there’s any other parts of their story that you’d like to hear about!

_____

When Chris woke up, the first thing he noticed was the throbbing in his head.

The second thing he noticed was the warm body curled into his side.

His initial reaction to that sensation was confusion, but as the events of the night before quickly came back to him, he was filled with an unignorable sense of dread.

He'd fucked up.

He'd spent a year burying his feelings for her to protect their friendship and all it took was a few drinks and flirtatious remarks for him to risk it all. He cared for her, there was no doubt about that, but he knew she didn't feel the same way. Clearly, she was at least attracted to him, but he'd hazard a guess that her loneliness was the driving factor in why she'd chosen to indulge in the activities they'd partaken in a few hours earlier. She’d had no luck in the dating scene, so she'd settled for him and now, when she woke up, she'd break his heart.

She didn't want him.

She didn't want the life that he could offer.

She'd made it clear that she found the world of Hollywood exhausting when she'd talked about her discontent with living in L.A. and that was a world he couldn't escape from. Plus, his fans had given her a hard enough time when she was just a close friend. If she was to become something more, they would tear her apart. He didn't want that for her and he knew that she didn't want that kind of hassle in her life either.

But he couldn't stand to hear her say it. He never did well with rejection and rejection from this woman - who he knew was absolutely perfect for him - was more than he could handle.

So, after carefully extracting himself from her grasp without waking her, he left.

He felt sleezy and awful not even saying goodbye, but he needed to quiet the noise in his brain before he could face her and he figured she would probably appreciate his absence. He knew firsthand how awkward it was to let down a one night stand the morning after so, really, he was sparing her just as much as he was protecting himself.

The heat outside was stifling already and made Chris realize just how desperate he was for something to quench his thirst. They'd drunk more than he normally did and he was feeling the effects. Perhaps that was why his mind was so fuzzy and unable to process what had happened, but he figured it was a safe bet that he could pin that on his anxiety.

And there were only two people who had much luck soothing him when his mind started racing: his mother and his brother.

He knew his mother would be disappointed in him if he told her what happened. He'd poured his heart out to her several times about the confliction he felt with his feelings for Whitney, he dreaded to think what she would say about him finally doing something about those feelings in such a reckless way and he was definitely too hungover to deal with her reaction to how he'd handled things that morning.

So, that left Scott.

Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the time and cringed. It wasn't even six thirty yet and with it being a Sunday there was a good chance that Scott was in a worse post-inebriated state than he was, but he took a chance and hit 'call'.

It took a few rings, but eventually Scott answered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Scott," Chris greeted him as he crossed the street. He needed to flag down a cab to get home, but figured the quiet park across from Whitney's apartment was a better place for this conversation. No extra ears listening in. "I fucked up."

"Chris, it's not even seven o'clock in the morning. How badly could you have fucked anything up this early?"

He sounded tired and Chris felt bad, but he needed someone to talk to.

"I slept with Whitney."

There was a moment of silence before Scott let out a cheer.

"Finally!" He practically squealed, but then he paused as he took in what Chris had said. "Wait, how did you fuck up? Did you not use your best moves?"

"What? No, nothing like that," Chris' brow furrowed in annoyance. "I fucked up by sleeping with her at all. She's one of my best friends, Scott, and now that's ruined. It’ll never be the same, if she even wants anything to do with me now."

"Did she not seem happy about it? What did she say when you left?"

"Nothing," Chris admitted. "I left this morning before she woke up."

There was a moment of silence as Scott processed his brother's words.

"Okay, I'm starting to see where you fucked up. You shouldn't have done that."

"No, I fucked up by sleeping with her!"

Chris' tone was snappy and uncalled for, but his headache was getting worse by the minute and he was feeling exasperated enough without Scott's judgment.

"Alright, alright, calm down," Scott sighed. "If you want my honest opinion, I think you're overreacting. You two have always had a 'will they won't they' vibe about you. She's clearly just as interested in you as you are in her."

"Why 'clearly'?" Chris questioned. "She's never acted like she sees me as more than a friend."

"Uh, yes, she has. She blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl every time you compliment her, she practically drools at the sight of you and listens with hearts in her eyes whenever you talk. She's got it just as bad as you do."

"Don't do that," Chris groaned. "Don't put ideas in my head that aren't true."

"It is true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," Scott insisted. "I think this is just your anxiety talking. Go back to her place before she wakes up, hear what she has to say and go from there. She might surprise you."

"I'll think about it," Chris lied, knowing already that he couldn't face going back. "Thanks for answering. I'll let you get back to bed."

"Don't mention it," Scott assured him. "I know you're stressed now, but I'm happy for you. It's about time the two of you came to your senses."

Chris smiled despite his disbelief in what Scott had said. He laughed it off and said his goodbyes before walking towards the nearest road to catch a cab.

He saw Whitney's message a few hours later, but he ignored it. He needed to get his head straight and steel himself for however she chose to let him down before he would be ready to talk to her.

It took days for him to get to the point of acceptance, but she never messaged him again. So, working on the assumption that she was relieved by his silence or didn't care enough to demand any explanations, he got on a plane and headed back to Massachusetts with plans to spend the next few months drowning his sorrows and pushing her from his mind.

Three Weeks Later

My period was late.

For the last ten years of my life, my period had arrived with impressive reliability and now, a few weeks after having unprotected sex, my period was late.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. There was no doubt in my mind that I was pregnant.

"It's not that easy to get pregnant," Hannah insisted as we sat in my living room, counting down the minutes until the pregnancy test would be ready. "A lot of people who actually want to get pregnant have to try for months before it happens. It seems super unlikely that you'd get pregnant from a random one night stand."

"Yeah, but it does happen to plenty of women," I pointed out. "And knowing my luck, I would get knocked up by a man who then flees the state without another word."

Hannah winced as I paced in front of her.

"Still haven't heard anything, then?"

"Nope, nothing," I sighed. "I haven't reached out again, but he made himself pretty clear by leaving before I woke up and then ignoring my text."

"I just don't get it. He was so obviously into you. I would have bet money that you two would live happily ever after."

"You did bet money," I reminded her. "I'm still waiting for that thousand dollars you promised me."

"You didn't accept!" She smiled. "I owe you nothing!"

While I didn't really expect her to pay me, I was going to argue the point, but the timer we'd set for the test went off and snapped our focus back to the task at hand.

"Oh god," I groaned. "You read it. I can't deal with this."

Hannah nodded and carefully picked up the little stick before looking up at me with a grin.

"It's negative!"

I felt a wave of relief, but it was quickly replaced with doubt. I felt like I was pregnant. My period was late for the first time in years, I'd had sex without a condom and I was nauseous and my boobs hurt. It seemed too good to be true that it was all some kind of coincidence.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah!" Hannah smiled. "There's two lines!"

Her words hit me like a truck as my stomach dropped.

"Hannah, two lines means positive."

"No, it doesn't," she insisted, reaching for the box. The fall of the smile on her face told me all I needed to know before she even spoke again. "Shit. Sorry, babe. You're pregnant."

I let out a groan as I flopped onto the couch next to her.

"This is a nightmare."

"Shall I get my shotgun?"

I raised an eyebrow at my friend.

"What?"

"For a shotgun wedding?"

I laughed at that suggestion, but shook my head.

"No, I don't want him to be forced into anything."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "It doesn't really seem real yet."

"Are you going to tell him?"

I looked down at my still flat stomach and nodded my head.

"Yeah, I'll have to. I know it's still new, but I want to keep it so he'll have to know," I sighed. "If he even answers my calls."

"He will," she assured me. "Or we'll fly out to Boston and you can tell him after I kick his ass."

The image that statement conjured in my mind pulled another laugh from my lips as I felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation for my friend. I knew that no matter what, she was in my corner and that was a comforting thought even in the midst of all the uncertainty that was swirling around me.

"Thanks, Hannah," I smiled. "I really appreciate all your support."

"Of course," she reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "Are you going to call him now?"

"No, I think I'll do it later," I informed her. "I want to wrap my head around it a little bit first."

"That's probably sensible," she agreed as a grin slid onto her face. "Wow, you're gonna have a baby, Whit. I know it's scary, but that's really cool."

"Cool isn't the word that I'd use. Try absolutely terrifying."

My earlier smile was still on my face despite my bleak words as I thought about what she'd said. It was somewhat good news. Definitely worrying, especially given my situation with Chris, but I'd always wanted to have kids so it would have been a lie for me to say that I wasn't at least a little bit intrigued by the idea.

When Hannah left my house, about an hour after we read the test, I planned on taking some time to fully comprehend the news before I shared it with Chris. However, almost as soon as I closed the door behind my friend, I remembered the time difference. Chris was three hours ahead of me which meant that even though it was only five o'clock for me, it was already eight o'clock where he was.

I felt the anxiety bubbling in my stomach as soon as I came to that realization because I knew that if I wanted to call him that day, I had to do it right away and if I didn’t call him soon, I was worried I’d lose the nerve.

I took a deep breath and went straight for my phone, dialing his number before I could change my mind, but I was crushed when he didn't answer. I waited a few minutes and then tried again, but still, there was no answer and I let out a growl of frustration as I frantically typed out a text.

Hey. Call me as soon as you can. It's important.

I paced around my apartment, the reality of the situation starting to creep in now that he, once again, seemed to be rejecting me.

I didn't want to tell him news like this over the phone, but I'd seen the paparazzi pictures of him arriving at the airport in Boston so I knew that I had no other choice. However, if he wasn't even going to answer my calls, I'd have to get the news to him another way. My mind immediately started racing with all the possible ways I might have to break the news to him as the panic of potentially having to do this alone started to rise.

But luckily, all those concerns were irrelevant when my phone lit up with Chris' name on the screen.

"Hey," I answered quickly before he had the chance to change his mind and hang up. "Thanks for calling."

There was a moment of silence before he replied.

"Sure," he kept his tone cool and steady, but there was an underlying tension. "What's up?"

The sound of his voice brought tears to my eyes. This was it. This was the make or break moment and I felt my palms start to sweat as it hit me just how devastated I'd be if it didn't go well.

"I, uh, I don’t really want to tell you this over the phone, but I guess I don’t really have much choice," I started. "I got some news today that you have a right to know."

It seemed obvious to me what I would be hinting at considering our current situation and the silence that followed my words led me to believe that he had a pretty good idea what I was going to say. When he stayed quiet, wordlessly waiting for me to continue, I took a deep breath and dove in.

“I’m pregnant.”

I hadn't thought much about how I was going to tell him, but I figured there was probably a better way than blurting it out that bluntly. I cringed slightly at my harsh delivery as his silence was almost immediately broken and he started spluttering and stuttering, stumbling over his words until he managed to blurt out one clear sentence.

"Is it mine?"

A burst of anger flashed through me at such a suggestion.

"Yes! Oh my God, Chris, of course it's yours!" I insisted. "How many people do you think I've slept with in the last month?"

Maybe he thinks you're a slut, the voice in my head taunted me. Maybe that's why he left without a word.

That thought was enough to get the tears flowing and, when Chris didn’t answer my question, I let out a sob. I covered my mouth to hopefully stifle the sound, but I knew he heard it loud and clear.

"Shit, Whitney," he sighed. "That was a dumb thing to say. You just caught me off guard."

"Well, how do you think I feel?" I hissed. "I'm scared, Chris. What are we going to do?"

This time there was no hesitation before he answered.

"I'll get the first flight out tomorrow morning," he informed me. "We can talk about it then."

"Okay," I sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he assured me. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours."

My emotions were overwhelming me by that point and I stayed quiet, knowing I'd fall apart if I opened my mouth to speak, but Chris didn't let the silence last too long this time.

"Are you, uh, are you gonna keep it?" He asked, sounding heartbreakingly similar to a small child asking his parents if he could keep the stray dog he'd brought home. "It's your call, but I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"I am going to keep it," I told him quietly. "But you only have to be as involved as you want to be."

"I want to be very involved," Chris answered quickly before letting out a sharp laugh. "Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad."

The sound of more laughter floated through the phone after that realization, but I couldn't tell if it was giddy or hysterical.

"You are," I agreed, feeling some relief from his reaction despite how complicated I knew things would be. "But we can talk about it all when you're here. If you really don't mind coming back."

"Not at all, this is important." He assured me. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll text you with the details as soon as I know."

"Okay, thank you."

He insisted that I didn't need to thank him before we quickly wrapped up the conversation.

There was a lot to say and a lot to discuss, but it wasn’t something to be talked about it over the phone. We needed to discuss it in person once we'd both had time to understand exactly what it meant.

And we needed to figure out what the hell we were going to do about us.

I thought having almost twenty-four hours to compose my thoughts would make things easier, but as I waited for Chris to get to my apartment I still had a lot of questions and concerns

But I had decided one thing for certain: we were better off as friends.

When we were friends, he didn't ignore my calls. When we were friends, he didn't run out of my apartment without saying goodbye. When we were friends, he hadn't broken my heart because I never gave him the chance. I was frustrated by his behaviour since the night we spent together and it made me angry. When I thought about it too hard, it made my blood boil and I wanted to tear a strip off of him for making me feel so used. When we were friends, I'd never felt more than a hint of annoyance towards him.

So, the only solution as far as I could see, was for us to stay just friends.

That would prevent any more heightened emotions and if we didn't do it that way, I would end up resentful and bitter. I didn't have much experience with children, but even I knew that those feelings would create a very toxic relationship for raising a child.

Which is why, as soon as he stepped into my apartment, I was on the defensive.

"I think we both know that we're better off as friends," I blurted out before the door was even shut behind him. "What happened was a mistake and now we just have to find a way to work together as friends."

Chris looked surprised, which I found surprising, but he recovered quickly and nodded his head. I'd be lying if I said that wasn't bittersweet. I didn't have the energy to argue with him, but part of me was definitely hoping that he'd put up a bit more of a fight.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed after a moment of thought before changing the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I shrugged. "A bit nauseous and very emotional, but nothing I can't handle so far."

"Good, that's good," Chris smiled. "Have you been to a doctor yet?"

"No, not yet. I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Can I-" Chris paused to clear his throat, looking nervous. "Can I come?"

I felt my heart flutter at the thought of him caring enough to want to come to a doctor's appointment, but I shut those feelings down as fast as they popped up. He cared for the baby, not for me.

"Sure," I nodded. "But it won't be very interesting. I think it's mostly just checking all my basic information so they can keep track and probably some blood tests and vitamin recommendations."

"Doesn't matter," Chris insisted. "I want to be there for it all. We're in this together."

Those words brought more tears to my eyes, but I blinked them back and looked away. In a move that I wasn’t expecting, Chris noticed immediately and took the few steps needed to put him right in front of me.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

His hands settled on my arms and the way he rubbed them would have been soothing if it didn't break my heart. How could this supportive, comforting man in front of me right now be the same man who slept with me and then never called me?

"I'm just overwhelmed," I choked out. "We really fucked up, Chris. How could we be so stupid?"

"I don't know," Chris sighed. "It was a dumb mistake, but we can make the most of it. We can do this."

"I know, I know," I took a deep, shaky breath to try and pull myself together. "It's just a lot to take in and I don't think it's really hit me yet."

"It is a lot," he agreed. "Here, let's go sit down."

I let him lead me over to the couch and then flopped down on it. He sat next to me, but we stayed quiet, neither of us really knowing what to say. After a few moments of tense silence, Chris finally spoke.

"I know this might be asking a lot," he started, the hesitation in his voice making me nervous. "But would you consider moving to Massachusetts?"

It wasn't an unexpected request. I knew Chris was happier there and considered it his home and I had told him how tired I was getting of living in Los Angeles. It was probably the better place for raising a child as well. I'd heard plenty of stories about Chris' childhood and it was pretty idyllic - full of experiences that children growing up in a big city like L.A. didn't often get.

However, it meant that I would have to leave my entire support system behind. All my friends and my family would be here and I would be completely alone except for Chris - who I wasn't even in a relationship with - and a child - who was hardly going to be able to provide much emotional support.

It seemed like the best option for everyone involved except for me and I wasn't sure that was a sacrifice that I was selfless enough to make.

I realized how long his words had been hanging in the air between us as I got lost in my thoughts and my head fell into my hands with a groan.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," I whined, tears filling my eyes again as I felt a strange mix of emotions There was plenty of regret and with that came guilt because this poor child deserved a mother that didn't dread it's existence. "I'm not mom material, Chris. I don't have the instincts."

"It's all still fresh," he reminded me. "The instinct isn't instant. But I didn't mean to upset you, if you don't want to move to Massachusetts then we'll figure it out."

"No, no, it makes the most sense," I sniffled, lifting my head to look back up at Chris. "It's just scary. I don't want to leave my family and friends and I'll have to move soon if I'm going to so I can find a doctor, it's a lot to think about right now."

"It is, but I can ask Carly about a doctor. My family will support you one hundred percent."

I forced a weak smile, but I felt more nerves bubbling in my stomach.

"Have you told them?" I asked. "Does your mom hate me? I hope she doesn't think I'm trying to take advantage of you."

"No way!" Chris insisted with a chuckle. "She gave me a very stern lecture about being responsible, but I've talked about you enough for her to know you're not some crazed fan looking for a payout."

"That's good." I breathed out a sigh of relief. I knew he was incredibly close with his mother and I didn't want her to think badly of me. "I haven't told anyone yet, except Hannah."

"Downey's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

He shot me a sheepish look as he spoke, but I shook my head.

"Nah, I think he'll be thrilled. He loves babies and he's been teasing me about us getting together since the night we met," I informed him, watching his face for a reaction to that statement. There wasn't any. "He'll probably have a bet to cash in on as soon as I tell him the news."

"Well, that's reassuring," Chris smiled. "I think we'll have enough people who'll be mad at us..."

He was clearly referring to his fans and I cringed.

"What are you going to do about that?"

He shrugged.

"What do you want me to do?"

I took a moment to think before I answered him.

"I don't want you to publicly deny that the baby is yours," I warned him, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to bear hearing that even if I knew that he really had no doubts. "But I don't care if you don't make a big announcement. We can just let people draw their own conclusions."

"Making a statement might be better. It would stop the rumours from getting out of hand. There'd be an uproar, but it would eventually die down," he pointed out. "I'll talk to my team and let you know, but you should probably make all your social media private whatever we decide."

I didn't use social media much and I definitely never posted pictures of Chris, but even so I'd felt the wrath of his fans more than once after we were spotted out together so I knew how they could be.

I nodded in response to his instructions and another silence settled between us.

My mind was racing with questions that I wanted to ask. I wanted to know why he'd left, why he hadn't called, why he'd even slept with me if he really didn't see me that way. Part of me even wanted to cry and plead with him to give me a chance, to let me show him that I was good enough to be more than a friend, but I knew I couldn't handle the rejection. Whatever his explanation would be, it wouldn't change the situation and with everything else we had to deal with, I didn't have the strength for more heartbreak too.

When Chris left almost an hour later, we had a firm plan in place.

I would try to get out of my lease - or Chris would pay whatever fee I was charged for breaking my contract - and I would move to Massachusetts by the end of the summer to stay with him. I'd argued that point at first, but his reasoning made sense. He would be in and out once they started filming the last two Avengers movies so I would have the place to myself a lot, but when he was home he'd be able to help with the baby. After the first year, when the newborn phase was done, I would get my own place and we'd work out an official custody agreement.

He promised to come to as many doctor's appointments as he could and offered to pay for absolutely everything that I needed. I assured him that wouldn't be necessary, but I appreciated that he was already committed. Many men probably would have run for the hills in our situation or, at the very least, demanded a paternity test before they made any promises, but Chris was enthusiastic and supportive and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Well, I wanted to ask for something more. I wanted us to be together - I wanted us to be making plans to be a family, not to be co-parents - but I knew that wasn't what he wanted and I was determined to accept that. I needed to focus on counting my blessings and being grateful for what I did get out of our relationship instead of focusing on what was missing and unobtainable.

Even if it broke my heart and hurt me more than the loss of any other romantic relationship I'd ever had, I was going to make the most of it for the sake of our child. It didn't ask to be born into such a messy situation and it's safety and security were quickly becoming the most important things in my life despite the fact that it was hardly more than a bundle of cells at that point.

And as that thought hit me, I realized that maybe I wasn't as lacking when it came to maternal instincts as I had thought.

@maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans one shot #once bitten/more hearts

115 notes · View notes

little-diable · 3 years

Text

Trust - Aaron Hotchner

I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds lately, so I had to go ahead and write something for Hotch. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: the reader gets involved in a case that pulls her deeper into her dark past, now she’s a suspect, involved in the murder of her ex-boyfriend, will the team still trust her? Will Aaron fight for his one true love?

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, abusive ex-boyfriend, violence, unprotected sex

Pairing: Aaron Hotchnerxfem!reader

Word count: 4k

“The best way to finding out if you can trust somebody is to trust them” Ernest Hemingway

She was late. Not once had she been late to any meeting ever before. He instantly missed the by now all too familiar scent of her perfume that would linger in the air as (y/n) would enter the conference room, he missed the sound of her fingertips nervously drumming against the wooden table as he’d present another case. This wasn’t like her.

“Anybody heard of (y/l/n)?” Aaron tried to keep his voice calm, eyes nonchalantly wandering around the room, making eye contact with every team member. Just as Spencer opened his mouth to reply she stepped into the room, hair slightly tangled in knots, hands tightly holding onto her bag, one didn’t need to be a profiler to tell that something was going on with her. “I’m sorry, I slept in.”

He almost didn’t recognize her voice, hoarse as if she had been screaming for hours, quieter then it had ever been, she felt ashamed, but he didn’t know why.

Aaron had to stop himself from asking what was going on with her, forcing his mind to focus on the case, the dead body that had been found in the early morning hours, though something caught his eye. Some purple spots were lingering on her throat, (y/n) had seemingly tried to cover them up, though the makeup didn’t manage to hide it all.

Bruises? Hickeys? A weird feeling began to spread through him, he had no business in digging deeper, should leave it, he could trust her. But his mind couldn’t help but begin to spin imaginary scenarios, would she cheat on him, even before they’d make their relationship official?

“Aaron?” Her soft voice ripped him out of his cruel thoughts, dark eyes meeting hers, she tried to reach for his hand, though he flinched away, reaching for his cup before she could touch him. The crease between her eyebrows got more prominent, she had to blink a few times, bile crawled up her throat, she felt awful.

It had been a rough night, she didn’t catch any sleep, was currently running on her twelfth cup of coffee. (Y/n) was officially worse than Reid.

“Joseph McQueen had been found stabbed to death around 6am this morning,” Garcia kept on talking though (y/n)‘s mind was no longer focused on her, he was dead? Shudders ran down her spine, skin littered with goosebumps, palms sweaty. He couldn’t be dead, not when she had last seen him a few hours ago.

The further her mind faded away the more suspicious Aaron grew, eyes wandering back to the dark spots on her throat. “(Y/l/n),” her eyes met his, pupils visibly dilated, she was hiding something, ”Morgan and Rossi you’ll drive to the crime scene.” He should have pulled her back, should have asked her what’s going on with her and the bruises on her skin, though he kept silent, too scared to face the truth.

Aaron couldn’t lose another woman he loved.

Even Morgan and Rossi seemed to notice that she was awfully quiet, not uttering a word as they drove through the busy streets, making their way towards a house she had been in one too many times before. “You okay sweets?” Morgan’s eyes met (y/n)’s through the rearview mirror, she quickly averted hers, scared that he could feel her pain, that nagging feeling that reminded her of all the things she had been going through.

She couldn’t look at the body, would break into tears before she’d be able to stop herself. Deep down she felt relieved, finally it was done, he no longer could hurt her, could no longer keep her awake at night. Not once had she thought that he’d end up like this, (y/n) knew that there had been quite a few people on his bad side, he hadn’t been a gentle character, not a man you’d willingly mess with.

(Y/n) did the one thing that instantly came to mind, searching for the file, the one thing he had been holding onto the night prior, playing another mindgame with her.

“Joseph, give it to me and I’ll be gone.” (Y/n) clicked her tongue, arms akimbo, cheeks burning from the heat that flooded through her. “Where would be the fun in that baby?”

Disgust flooded through her, how she ever could have willingly spent some time with him seemed inexplicable to her. “Give me my file.” The yellowish file was the only thing she could hold onto, the last piece of sanity she clang to, like a life insurance that would help her in times of need.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He stepped closer to the fireplace, about to throw her file into the fire as a shot echoed through the night. Her gun fell out of her grasp, wide eyes stared at the gunshot in his upper arm, “you fucking whore.”

A dark picture frame caught her attention, she tilted her head from left to right, praying that nobody was watching her. If she’d be careful enough she’d manage to get rid of any traces she had left behind, hiding everything that would tell her family, the team, about her dark past.

“(Y/n)?” Morgan stepped into the bedroom, not noticing the picture she was holding onto just yet, “anything worth telling?” She only shook her head, swallowing down another sob.

Before she followed Morgan out of the room she slipped the picture into her pocket, keeping it safe and hidden from curious eyes. Though with every step she took it seemed to burn itself into the fabric of her jacket, adding to the weight she carried on her shoulders, reminding her of her weakness.

The day had been long, with exhausted steps she walked up to her apartment as Aaron was sitting in his office, hand clutching his phone. “We found agent (y/l/n)‘s DNA on the body, the bullet in his arm got traced back to her gun.” The words rang in his ears, body not moving an inch. Had she killed him? Was the woman he loved more than any woman he had ever loved before a killer?

What was she hiding? What wasn’t she telling him?

Three strong, urgent knocks echoed through her apartment, Aaron was standing in front of her door, with Emily by his side. She stared at them for a moment, cleared her throat and reached for her coat, “I’m coming.”

A shuddered breath left her chapped lips, tears blurred her vision, she should have confessed right there and then, should have told her friend and lover what was going on. Though her words died on her tongue, another deep secret she’d probably take to grave with herself.

She stayed silent. Didn’t say a word. The only sound that could be heard were her sobs, the cries that bled from her lips. With every pained cry his heart kept on clenching further, he was sure that he’d get a cardiac arrest every moment now. He hated to feel like this, in this very second she was a suspect, nothing more, nothing less, though Aaron couldn’t treat her like any other criminal, after all she was still the woman that held his heart in her hands.

“I think it’s time we finally tell the team.” Her lips moved up his throat, she was straddling his thighs, dressed in an old shirt of his. “Are you sure? It would certainly complicate things.” His hands wandered up her legs, moving around her to knead the flesh of her behind. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, Aaron. I love you and I’ll do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

(Y/n) always had wondered how the suspects would feel as they were waiting for the agents to step into the interrogation room. Now, as she was one of them, a suspect apparently involved in a murder, she wished to never know this feeling.

Who would interrogate her? Aaron? Morgan? Maybe even Spencer?

The team must hate her, she was sure of it. (Y/n) couldn’t help but curse herself for not letting them in on her past any sooner, all of this could have been avoided if she had managed to overcome her fear of rejection. But now it was too late and she was the one to pay for her sins.

“You look awful sweets.” Morgan’s calming voice left her heart racing, wide pupils stared at him, “I feel awful.” He studied her, trying to find any explanation to the question that kept the team on their toes, but his mind was blank, could only picture her as the murderer of Joseph McQueen.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered the words, as if he was scared that the tape would record something he didn’t want to share. Morgan was out of the room before she could reply, leaving her confused and lonely once again.

Hours seemed to pass by, she’d fall asleep any moment now, body exhausted from the past 48 hours.

“How did you know him?” Aaron’s voice sounded rougher than it ever had been before, dripping with disappointment and anger. She didn’t answer, eyes staring at her hands, trying to stop her tears from streaming down her cheeks. “(Y/n)!” He growled her name, hands pounding against the table, her heartbeat picked up its pace once again, body flinching away from the man she loved.

“What aren’t you telling me? Why aren’t you saying anything? Did you kill him? Did you do it?” He was freaking out, not able to think rationally, another woman had played with his feelings, another person he had let into his life had fucked with him once again. “No I didn’t.” Now it was his turn to stay silent, chest heaving, jugular vein pulsing underneath the thin skin of his throat. “How did you get those bruises?”

“You shot me, you bitch.” He kicked against her knee, watching her crash to the floor with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “Let go of me Joseph.” Her voice trembled, she was buried underneath him, body pressed against the scratchy rug, feet kicking.

He had his hands wrapped around her throat, choking all air out of her lungs, “I should have ended your pathetic excuse of a life years ago.” Her ex boyfriend panted his words, wondering if he should truly go through with it, killing the FBI agent.

She could only think about Aaron, his soft touch, the voice she fell in love with years ago. He didn’t know where she was, didn’t know anything about Joseph and their past relationship. There were too many things she wanted to tell him, too many secrets she’d need to let him in on, she couldn’t die, not yet.

Aaron longed to pat her tears dry, wanting to pull her out of the room, telling her that everything would be alright. But he couldn’t trust her any longer, couldn’t trust the one woman that had kept him safe for years. She had been his friend long before they had shared a bed, had been by his side for as long as he could remember, though she was fairly younger. A part of his life he didn’t want to erase.

“(Y/n), you know how this works. I need you to cooperate.” She shook her head no, fingernails pierced into her palms, leaving wounds that would stay for days. They already hated her, she didn’t want to burden them with her past any further. A disappointed, tired sigh left Aaron, chair scraping against the floor as he rose from it, storming out of the room, she was a lost cause.

“This doesn’t add up, why won’t she tell us? Doesn’t she trust us?” Spencer paced the room, eyes switching between his teammates and (y/n)‘s file, looking for the missing piece of the puzzle. “Do we still don’t know where they met or how they knew each other?” The sound of Aaron’s quiet, broken voice coaxed a cry out of Garcia, she trembled, barely able to properly do her work. “No, I have nothing, she certainly knows how to hide things.”

Sunrays danced on her cheeks, her lips were pulled into a thin line, sunglasses hiding the black eye Joseph had put onto her face a night ago. She should have called for help, should have told the team as she was laying in the hospital, for the fourth time that month. But who was she kidding, those were her own problems to deal with, her own sorrows, nothing her team should waste their time on.

The day was long over, though none of them were thinking about going home. (Y/n) kept on uncomfortably shifting in her chair, thinking about her next move. She didn’t need a lawyer, after all she wasn’t the one who killed him, wasn’t involved in the murder. Would she need to resign? Leave the people she loved behind because a mistake she had made in the past?

“Morgan and Dave, go back to his house, see if you can find anything that connects the two.” While the agents combed through the house once again she was sitting across from Strauss, staring at the elderly woman, listening to the words she knew by heart. “I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen next, do I (y/l/n)?”

Morgan’s heart raced, gloved fingers searched through every bookshelf, every drawer he could pull open, desperate to find anything that would help them with her case, not giving up on their friend just yet. He didn’t understand why she kept quiet, didn’t understand who she was trying to protect.

“Derek, look here.” Rossi was staring at a yellowish paper, a file that had been hidden beneath a few books, clearly stating her name. The further they read through the paper the more confused they got, medical records were listed on the file, telling them all about past injuries. It took them minutes to understand what the paper was about.

“What do we have on her?” Strauss's shrill voice left the team growling, reminding them of the ticking clock, they didn’t have much time left to explain what was going on. She was the only suspect, the only name on their list so far. “Nothing, she won’t talk.”

“Garcia,” Spencer combed a hand through his hair, rethinking his chain of thoughts, “pull up any medical file we have of her, check for any hospital visits in the past years.” Her fingernails left a clicking noise on the keyboard, eyes widening as she read through (y/n)‘s medical bills. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

“He abused her.” Morgan stumbled into the room, Dave hot on his heels, mind trying to process what they had just learned about (y/n), the secret she had kept hidden. She was ashamed, too scared to let them in, too scared that they’d leave her behind.

(Y/n) was slowly going crazy, feet whipping to the sound of her exhausted breaths, eyes closed, she’d pass out soon, her body won’t be able to keep this level of stress up any longer. The door got pushed open, she didn’t need to open her eyes to tell that Aaron was the one who stepped into the small room, she’d recognise his tread everywhere. “You should have told me, (y/n).”

No words left her, trying to drown out his voice, he was pitying her, staring at her with hurt clearly visible in his eyes. “We found this in his house.” It was her file. The one thing she had tried to rip away from Joseph, the one thing that had protected her from him. “Tell me, (y/n), what happened?”

It was late in the afternoon as she entered her apartment complex, tired from a long case. Though just as she wanted to unlock her door she noticed that the lock was broken open, somebody had entered her apartment. (Y/n) reached for her gun, slowly stepping into her home, checking every room, trying to prepare herself for the worst.

The apartment was empty, she was alone. Maybe she was too paranoid, mind coming up with cruel scenarios, things she had seen in numerous cases. But something caught her attention, her safe was open, she was sure that she had locked it before she had left for work. Panic flooded through her, it was gone. The one thing she had clang to, the one thing that had kept her protected.

Without thinking twice she stormed out of her four walls, running towards her SUV, she’d kill him, would rip him to shreds.

She didn’t care about speed limits, didn’t care about anything but her file, she needed to get her hands on it, before he could destroy it. “Fucking open your door Joseph.”

She hadn’t seen him in years, had managed to cut him out of her life, in hopes of never having to see him again. “I was waiting for you baby.” (Y/n) should have shot him right there and then, ending his pathetic excuse of a life. “Joseph, give it to me and I’ll be gone.” He pulled her inside, locking the door.

(Y/n) clicked her tongue, arms akimbo, cheeks burning from the heat that flooded through her. “Where would be the fun in that baby?” Disgust flooded through her, how she ever could have willingly spent some time with him seemed inexplicable to her.

“Give me my file.” The yellowish file was the only thing she could hold onto, the last piece of sanity she clang to, like a life insurance that would help her in times of need. “No, I don’t think I will.”

He stepped closer to the fireplace, about to push her file into the fire as a shot echoed through the night. Her gun fell out of her grasp, wide eyes stared at the wound in his upper arm, “you fucking whore.”

A scream rippled out of her, with one final push he rolled of her body, trying to reach for her once again. But she was faster, grasping her bag as she was running out of the house, file long forgotten.

Tears dripped down onto the back of her hand, before he could stop himself Aaron pulled her into his arms, chin placed on top of her head. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you.” (Y/n) clang to him, hands fisting the fabric of his white shirt, tears leaving wet patches on the crook of his neck, “I am sorry for not telling you.” He combed a hand through her messy hair, pulling her even closer, hearts slowly beating in sync.

“Can we go home now?” She mumbled against his skin, knees giving out, not able to keep her supported any longer. Aaron picked her up, carefully carrying her out of the room, she was fast asleep by now. “I’ll drive her home.” (Y/n) was his only priority, he trusted his team, knew they’d be able to work without the two of them for a while, worrying about her just as much as Aaron did.

He let her sleep for hours, working on his files as he kept on watching her, heart clenched at the thought of (y/n) getting hurt, Aaron couldn’t help but feel guilty, he should have listened, should have known that she’d never go against him. “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, thumb tracing her cheek, waking (y/n) from her deep slumber.

She met him halfway, lips pressed against Aaron’s warm ones, hands reaching for his neck, pulling him even closer. “I love you.” Her words filled him with an all too familiar warmth, a feeling only she could wake inside of him, she was the one for him, Aaron was sure of it. “I love you too, I’m sorry love, I,-” with another kiss she shut him up, pushing herself into his lap, straddling his thighs.

The kiss grew more passionate, hands tugging on one another’s clothes, hastily undressing themselves. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His confession made her smile, lips moving down his throat, sucking on the spots that would drive him crazy, “you won’t, make love to me Aaron, please.” He flipped them around, front pressed against hers, knee tugged against her pulsing clit, slowly grinding against the wet spot on her panties.

She shuddered in anticipation, body tingling from his touch, he’d always known how to take care of her, how to make love to her in the best way possible. Carefully he pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her naked chest to his dark eyes. His boxers grew tighter, hard length pushing against the thin fabric, desperate to be freed, to feel her wrapped around him.

Aaron Hotchner was like a thunderstorm, crashing down onto her with as much force as possible, his touch was like lightning, filling her with electricity, every sound he made represented a powerful thunder that rolled through the dark sky. She was caught in a storm, drenched by his love and admiration, hooked onto his every move.

“Let me make it up to you.” His lips left a wet trail down her upper body, hands cupping her naked breasts, teasing her hardening nubs, touching her like she longed to be touched. “Aaron, I need you.” Impatiently she pressed her core against his knee, moaning into the dark room. His chuckle vibrated against her skin, hands moving down to her soaked through panties, pushing the fabric down her legs, “I got you love.”

With his arms wrapped around her thighs his head disappeared between them, tongue pressed against her wet folds, moaning at the taste of her arousal. Her fingernails scraped his scalp, urging him on to go further, to properly touch her. “You’re always so ready for me.” The praises lightened a fire deep inside of her, moan after moan rolled off his tongue, back arched off the mattress, god, he was an expert at this.

He pumped two fingers in and out of her, eyes hooked onto her face, watching his love slowly fall apart in his grasp. “Feels so good, don’t stop Aaron.” Though he would stop any moment now, he wanted to feel her come undone around his length, splitting her in half as he was making love to her.

The room was spinning, head pounding, he was moving fast, ripping his boxers off his body, length slapping against his abdomen. (Y/n) tried to reach for him, wanting to touch his soft skin, but he had seen it coming, pushing her hand away before she could feel him. They had already lost too much time, he didn’t want to waste another second, needed to bury himself deep inside of her.

No words could ever describe the sensation of Aaron perfectly filling her, length thrusting in and out of her as she gave her body to the man she loved. She could feel his every vein, every inch of his size, body reacting to the man that was hovering above her. His hands explored her body, touching her as if it was their first time together, cherishing every spot, every place of her gorgeous self.

Aaron could read her every expression, he was a profiler after all, though his profession didn’t play a big role in this. He loved her, knew her like the back of his hand, probably knew her better than she’d ever know herself. Wordlessly he picked up his pace, skin slapping against hers, length glistening with her arousal.

“I’m close.” His name bled from her lips, fingernails scratching down his shoulders, walls tightening around him. He connected their lips, tongues battling as her orgasm rumbled through her, leaving her breathless and trembling. “Oh fuck Aaron.” Her head fell back against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, face displaying an expression full of euphoria.

He followed soon after, heat spreading through her as he let go, collapsing on top of her sweaty body. “I should have trusted you.” It would take Aaron a long time to forgive himself, to let go of the guilty feeling nestling inside of his heart. But she had faith in him, had forgiven him for every doubt that had ever clouded his mind.

She trusted him with all her heart.

Tagging some that might be interested: @savior-adriana @angelusviate @writethelifeyouwant @bwbatta @band--psycho @playboysbunny

Add yourself to my taglist

Masterlist

#aaron hotchner smut #Aaron Hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #Aaron hotch #Aaron Hotch smut

268 notes · View notes

iguessilovebakugou · 3 years

Text

Stranger || Bakugou x Reader || { Anon Request } || Stalking

TW: Cursing || Stalking || Threats of violence || Implied desire for Non-Con (not from Bakugou tho) Word Count: 5.5K

It started after the Sport Festival.

A DM that had been sent to your private social media account - a friend from your old school named Honoka. You hadn’t spoken to her since starting UA - and the moment you saw the notification, you felt guilty that this was how she had to reach out to you. She had been so proud of you when you got accepted, she almost started crying, hugging you tightly and telling you as much. She asked you to keep in contact in High School. You had promised her you would.

You had been so busy, it was hard keeping promises.

Honoka: Hey! I saw you on the TV - you were amazing! I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you pass onto the finals. Good thing though - you would have gone against that asshole.

Honoka: Not that you couldn’t have handled it!

It should have tipped you off that one of the quieter kids of school would have used such language, but it didn’t. It had been a few months since starting high school and people have changed faster. You didn’t think much about it aside from replying before your train pulled into the station. You might miss your stop and be late to school.

You were always punctual and refused to have something as stupid as that go against your record.

You waited until you were off the train, standing on the steps before sending a quick message.

Thanks! It was really terrifying. But I lost fair and square. Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t make it to the finals. So I guess it’s okay. :)

You decided not to humor her comment about Bakugou. While it drew a hot, angry tie around your neck, part of you understood. Honoka wasn’t alone in thinking he was...less than pleasant. It had been a point of contention, something that bothered you both that day and since. People were just wrong about him. She didn’t know him like Class 1-A did. A few short clips from some televised sports festival didn’t do him nearly the justice he was deserved.

You didn’t have enough time to put your phone back in your jacket pocket when it buzzed again.

Honoka: Still.

Honoka: You were so strong. We all think they should have made an exception for you.

Honoka: We should meet up sometime. Gtg! Text me after school to set up a time!

You wanted to question it but you didn’t.

You really should have questioned it.

King Explosion Murder was a perfectly good name.

Miss Midnight just doesn’t understand art.

The conversation had been going on for a hour. It was the longest that you and Bakugou had texted. You had moved from a group text to your own private thread. He didn’t text you like normal boys did - no pictures, no emojis, no stupid memes he had found. It was...conversation, one that hadn’t been as hard to keep going as you thought. you tried to distract yourself with school work while he replied, but found it hard not to keep your attention on your screen as the text bubble flashed.

Bakugou: It was better than “Deku”.

Well Deku was less violent

Bakugou: AND IT WAS STILL BETTER

Bakugou: THAN FUCKING DEKU’S

Honoka: You still up?

You stopped. Honoka? Why on earth was she texting you...oh shit. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and kicking yourself for forgetting to text her back like she had asked. You had been so wrapped up texting Bakugou since getting home that it just completely slipped your mind. Though, to be fair, most things slipped your mind around him.

You opened your chat with her, trying to figure out how to apologize without seeming like too much of an asshole.

Hey, yeah, sorry.

I started talking to one of my classmates and totally forgot.

My bad, dood.

Once again, she replied quickly.

Honoka: Who were you talking to?

There was a small part of you that wanted to ask her why it was her business, but you bit your tongue. She probably didn’t mean anything by it and some residual bitterness from her comment this morning was probably lingering. You took a deep breath.

Bakugou.

We workshopped hero names today. His got shot down by our teacher.

It was so sad. 🤣🤣🤣

Honoka: Why are you talking to him?

It wasn’t a question, not really. It was a statement. Like you talking to Bakugou was taboo, you could practically hear her grasping her pearls. You shouldn’t have had to explain to her why you were talking anyone, let alone him, and it bothered you that she felt she was owed that right. That she even dare ask the question. Your brow furrowed as you sat up in bed.

What do you mean?

Honoka: Why are you talking to him? He seems like an dick

Honoka: And isn’t good for you.

Honoka: You need to focus on being the best hero you can be.

Honoka: He seems like he would only drag you down.

Rage filled your stomach. Your hands were shaking as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. She had never acted this way before...right? She had always been so nice and meek and unassuming and...

You were confused, finding yourself chewing on your lip as you tried to make sense of what the hell you were seeing.

He’s my friend. I really like him.

Look, he’s not as mean as he appears on TV. He’s actually a really good guy. And he’s really smart and he’s going to be a better hero than even me some day.

So I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.

The chat bubble popped up. Then disappeared. Then popped up. And disappeared again.

It’s funny - you had never felt so threatened by someone not answering. But as the bubble flashed for a final time, something told you that you had fucked up.

Honoka was always quiet, yes, but she was also amazingly sweet. She cried when you were little kids at the ending scene in All Dog’s Go to Heaven, always scrounged up change to donate to someone on the street looking for food, and volunteered every weekend to help with the younger students struggling in studies. She hadn’t been born with a mean bone in her body.

But by the end of the week, you were certain the person messaging you wasn’t the same Honoka you knew. She had changed - and not for the better. Not in the slightest. She was growing more insistent that you talk to her - every night. And if you didn’t?

The calls were incessant. One after the other until you finally had to shut your ringer off. And the voicemails - she never spoke. Just let it sit for a moment before hanging up. And you were grateful for it - you didn’t want to talk to her. Every chance she got, she showered you with praise and adoration while slinging hate at all your friends in 1-A. But no one got it like Bakugou did.

Honoka: Stop talking to him.

It’s not any of your damn business who I’m talking to.

Honoka: If you don’t stop talking to him, I’ll tell him what a whore you were in Middle School.

The water of your bath was scalding, but that didn’t stop you from shaking. Why was she doing this to you? Why was she so adamant about making your life miserable? This wasn’t Honoka - not even in the slightest.

I’m blocking you. Leave me alone.

Don’t talk to me anymore.

No matter what, he was pure evil to Honoka. He was disgusting, arrogant, rude, a monster, a villain hiding in sheep's clothing and would do nothing but drag you down. He would hurt you, she said.

Honoka: Go ahead. I’ll just make other accounts.

She was as good as her word. At least that hadn’t changed.

Your classmates were starting to take notice. After the first few accounts were blocked, she started using a calling app to randomly call you - only to hang up the moment you answered. Sometimes it was once a night, supplemented with texts about what a no good, lying whore you were. About how you were just some slut who’s opening you legs for the first guy who gave you any attention.

Honoka: Fucking skank.

Honoka: You’re so fucking worthless.

Honoka: You fucking him? Is that it? Is that why you want to defend him so bad?

Honoka: He’s probably fucking every other girl in your class.

Other times, the calls were every hour on the hour. It had gotten so bad, that you started sleeping in later and later.

You raced through the empty halls, trying to will time to back up. You had slept in, missing your first train. When you got on the second one, you fell back asleep until the stop after yours. The only thing you could do was get off and just run to school as fast as you could. Class had started 20 minutes ago. This had never happened before - in your whole life. You were always meticulous about getting to class early.

You were a good student. A good person. You were.

“Well, look who decided to join us.” Mr. Aizawa didn’t even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice. It made it all the more terrible

You wanted to cry. You felt the eyes of everyone in your class fall on you. It made your skin squirm, your stomach flip. You wanted to turn around and just...run home. To crawl into your bed and...

You bowed low, your head almost hitting the floor. “I’m so sorry I’m late, sir! It won’t happen again!”

“Be sure that it doesn’t.” His glare hardened. “We’ll talk after class about your punishment.”

Punishment. Shit. You couldn’t speak, resigning to solemnly nodding as you making the walk of shame to your seat, collapsing down. You had to take a minute, to steady your breath. To try and collect yourself. At least at school, you had an excuse not to answer her texts. To ignore her and pretend like she wasn’t out there being fucking crazy. School was safe. School was free from it all.

Almost by habit, you turned and looked over at Bakugou. A small part of you was praying that he was looking at you. That his glare would ground you in a way only it knew how. But when your eyes met...the only thing you felt was misery.

You fucking him? Is that it?

Your heart raced, panic flooded your nerves, and all you wanted to do was run. Get away from everyone and just...just go to sleep. You just wanted to sleep. But Honoka wasn’t allowing that. You couldn’t stop thinking about half of the things she said while the other half had been resting heavily in your stomach, making you sick. She was stealing everything from you.

You’re a fucking slut opening her legs for the first guy who gives you attention. And of course it had to be that fucking dog.

No...no you couldn’t look at him for too long, afraid that he would know. Terrorized as you were, you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out. Because...what if she messaged him first? What if she told him all of her lies and...what if he believed her?

No. No, that couldn’t happen.

You pulled away from his stare, folding in on yourself. Just get out your books. Focus on class and get out your books. Your phone dinged and your blood ran cold. You dreaded even looking at it, but as you tugged out your notebook, the piece of plastic fell, resting against the back of your bag. It was as if some higher power was damning you to be always aware of the vitriol Honoka was spewing in your direction. The lock screen shone bright: 21 missed texts, 44 missed calls. But the most recent message sent horror down your spine.

Honoka: Naughty girl, sleeping in late for school.

You slipped out of the lunch room and made your way down the hall. You were going to put an end to this - once and for all. You didn’t know what game Honoka was playing at, but whatever it was, you were fucking done. She was starting to seep into every facet of your life and it was ending now. Right then, in that hallway.

When you got a safe distance away from the double doors, to ensure no one could hear you when you started screaming, you searched through your contacts for her number. When you finally found it however...

God, just looking at her name made you sick. The fact her contact picture was of you and her, eating ice cream at a beach, grinning and giving the camera a peace sign, posing as only 12 year old girls knew how, it drove a knife into your chest, twisting it even deeper the longer you stared at it. She was making your life a living hell. It wasn’t right, it didn’t make any fucking sense. Why was she doing this to you? Did you do something to her? Were you cruel in your last interaction? Did you make a joke that went so poorly that she decided the only way to get back at you was to ruin your entire life? To push you so close to the edge that...

She going out of her way to make your life a living hell and for what?

Well, no better time like the present to find out.

Your thumb slammed down on the dial button. Each ring was like nails on chalk board.

Her voice was even worse.

She said your name so surprised, before crying it out in joy. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Well...that...wasn’t...true?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Honoka went silent on the other end of the phone. “Uh...are you okay?”

“You’ve been harassing me since the festival and you’re just going to act like-”

“Wait...what?”

“The thousands of texts!? The millions of calls!?”

She didn’t answer. You couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face. You fucking got her. You caught her in her bullshit lie and she didn’t have anything to say for it. You hated to admit it, but part of you was excited to hear how she was going to explain it way. How she was going to break down and finally you could tell her off and it was going to stop and you could get a good night’s sleep and maybe your mom could make your favorite curry and you would be able to eat it and not throw it up later and -

“I haven’t been texting you.”

Well...you couldn’t have said you were expecting that. You stopped, staring at your feet. “I...what?”

“I...haven’t been calling you. Or texting you.” She said, her voice - that ever familiar voice - filled with worry.

...of course she would be worried. She was always so fucking nice.

“Yes you have!!” You shouted, gritting your teeth.

She said your name, so softly and so calmly, “No. I haven’t. I promise you, I haven’t. Are you okay? Is everything alright?”

The phone vibrated in your fingers and the screen lit up once more. Another unknown number was calling you. You didn’t hesitate and for the first time since this all began you answered the her-him-they-it.

“What!?” You screamed, pressing the phone to your ear. You strained to hear, to try and find out who was doing this to you. “What do you want!? Why are you doing this to me!? Leave me alone!!!”

...click!

The dial tone felt like a death sentence.

The hallway shrunk and expanded, growing larger and darker - like the mouth of the beast, it was going to swallow you whole. You pressed your phone to your forehead, slumped to the floor and realized...you were crying. No, not just crying. You were sobbing, each one wracking your body and shaking your bones. Shit...shit, shit, shit. You just wanted to go back to the way things were. You wanted it to stop, wanted whoever was doing this to leave you alone and -

Your phone buzzed again. Another message.

Another sob rocked your body, but you found the strength to turn it back into view.

UNKNOWN NUMBER :: [ MULTIMEDIA MESSAGE ]

Your fingers trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone. You didn’t want to look at whatever it was. Whoever was doing to you was fucking sick, was deranged and psychotic and out of their mind and...you had to do something about it. Maybe you could tell a teacher? But what could they do about it? Up security? Just for you? No, it was entirely out of the question. You couldn’t go to the police - since who ever this was hadn’t physically done anything to harm you.

You were on your own.

You opened the message.

It was your house. The sun was setting. Then another. This one was early in the morning. Then another. And another. Another another another another another another another another another different angles, different times of day...but all focused on one spot.

Your bedroom. Sometimes it was empty, but other times you were in shot. Sometimes working on homework, sometimes sitting with your cat on the window sill, other times pulling your shirt above your head, reaching behind your back for your bra and...

UNKOWN NUMBER : Stop ignoring me.

Your phone clattered to the floor as you gripped your hair, trying to steady your breathing. In two three fours, Out two three fours. In two three fours, Out two three-

“Hey.”

The scream was involuntary, as was backing against the lockers so hard that you slammed your head against them. Bakugou recoiled, staring at you, his eyes wide with surprise. It didn’t last long, quickly overtaken by gritted teeth and snarls. “The hell is your-”

He must have noticed the tears, the absolute panic on your face. The silence fell over the two of you, the echo of your scream now long gone. You wished you were. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the shame of what was happening. How could you explain it.

“You alright?”

You pulled your legs up to you chest, hugging them tightly. “No,” You replied.

Bakugou was never one for consolations. So you were almost surprised when all he made his way over to where you were sitting and sat down beside you. You flinched, only a little, but it didn’t seem to bother him none. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t say a word, his bright red eyes focused out the window across from you. You...were grateful. For the first time in almost two weeks, you didn’t feel entirely vulnerable. Like everything was crumbling down around you. And in this small moment of peace, you felt horribly exhausted. Your mind ached, your body was sore, your eyes were so red and...and...

You rested against his shoulder and he didn’t make a move to stop you. It was like Bakugou was putting himself between you and...whoever was stalking you.

Stalking you. You had a stalker.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You offered.

“For what?” He barked.

“For crying.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, “Tch. Yeah, well...maybe suck it the hell up. Whatever it is, it’s not a big deal.”

Not a big...you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. “Not a big deal...?”

He looked at you, a bored and disgruntled expression on his face. “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of a big fucking deal.”

“Oh yeah? Well then what the hell is it?”

“Whoa, it’s that kid who just won the Sports Festival!”

“Oh, wow! He’s so much scarier in person!”

“Do you think he would be mad if I asked for an autograph?”

“Yeah! Look at his mug - he’s obviously pissed off about something!”

Bakugou had stayed late, even through your detention, to walk you home. It was nearly dark now as you walked side by side down your street. The sun was struggling to peak over the row of houses and a purple ink had settled over the top of the sky.

It was taking everything in you not to apologize...again. He didn’t need to be dragged into your mess. But...shit, it wasn’t like you weren’t ecstatic that he offered to walk you home back in the hallway. He was a terrifying presence, unstoppable. As he stalked down the road towards your house, a scowl on his face as his eyes peered around every corner, it hit you that you felt safer now than you had the past few weeks.

“Hey.” You picked up the pace, making sure to stay close. “Thank you again. I just-”

“Ugh, stop thanking me!” He glared at you.

“I’m just-” You sighed and gripped your bag straps. “I...I don’t see the point of you walking me home. Not...that I don’t appreciate it, I just...won’t that make him mad?”

Bakugou scoffed. “That’s the point, you idiot.”

Sometimes, you thought you almost understood him. But then he blew up Rome and screamed at you to start over tomorrow morning. You stared at him in confusion though ultimately decided you didn’t have the energy to argue. You were just...thankful that he was here.

“This is me.” Your house was a small thing, nestled on the corner and surrounded by a garden that was meticulously maintained by your mom while you were at school and your father was at work. Sometimes the pictures had her in the shot, busy at work. Your lips thinned as you stared up at the second story window, Your white curtains lay still and your cat stared down at you, like she knew something was wrong. Like she knew...that things were amiss.

Well...Bakugou came all this way and the guy didn’t have the guts to show himself. As you had figured, you had completely wasted his time. It wasn’t like he was going to move in just to be your watchful protector. You didn’t want to think that maybe he was just patiently waiting until you were alone but...

“Do you want to come in for something to drink. It’s the least I could...”

Bakugou wasn’t looking at you. His attention was focused entirely over your shoulder. You blinked, taken aback by the cold, dead glare on his face. The way his eyes seemed to burn with...rage? Unbridled anger? Nothing seemed to do whatever it was justice. “You’ve been following us since the train station!” He yelled out. “Why don’t you stop being a fucking coward and come out of hiding!!”

…someone...had been following you?

You could see the reflection of someone in his eyes. With a shaking breath, you turned to look at who he was talking to.

You weren’t sure what you expected. But throughout the day, you had come up with an image in your mind of what your stalker had looked like. He would be the perfect embodiment of the horror you had suffered though, that was for certain. A Cheshire grin, wild unkempt hair, vacant, glossy eyes, maybe a knife or something - anything to solidify himself as the monster who had been making your life miserable. But...he wasn’t. As you got a good look at him, you realized that he looked relatively...normal. And for some reason, that thought alone made you sick.

He was about your age - maybe a bit older - in a school uniform you didn’t recognize. His hair was dark, pulled back and pushed behind his ears. His chin was dusted with facial hair and his eyes were darting between you and Bakugou. He had been standing by the cross walk and tried to pretend to be shocked that Bakugou was even addressing him.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pull that bull with me.” Bakugou stepped around you, making his way towards him. “I saw you get off the train with us. You made every turn we did. Always stayed one step behind where you thought we couldn’t see you.”

The kid only got a word out before Bakugou gripped him by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall of the neighboring house. “Please!” The kid yelled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Bakugou!” Your legs finally remembered they could move. You bolted over to where he was standing, looking between the two of them. “Bakugou maybe it isn’t him! Maybe he-”

“Show us your phone then if you don’t have anything to hide!” He lifted him up and slammed him back against the bricks.

“I don’t have to show you anything, you fucking lunatic!”

You don’t think you had ever seen him on this street. You don’t think you had seen him ever but-

“HEY!” The boy tried to stop Bakugou from reaching into his pocket. But it was no use.

You caught it was ease, “Try the day of the sports festival for the password.” Was all he said.

This was fucking insane. What if this kid wasn’t the stalker? What if he was just some random guy who was meeting a friend. You looked back and forth between the two of them - Bakugou, hair wild and death in his eyes, and this guy who looked down at him with fear and...

...oh...

You swiped up, entering the date as instructed.

It unlocked.

And you were met with a pretty lain layout. Some photo editing apps, Youtube, a few games, and...

Texting and Calling apps. Your blood ran cold as you opened the first one up. Texts apon texts, all to the same unlisted number. Your unlisted number. You went to the photo gallery and there they were. The pictures of your house. Some of them were zoomed in and cropped to only show you. You wanted to be sick. You wanted to-

“I can explain!”

“What the fuck,” You breathed, scrolling through the pictures. Not just of your house, but of you - walking home from school, of hanging out with your friends, of you shopping. And that’s when you saw the edited versions.

Fuck. Oh Shit Fuck.

“I was only trying to help you!!” He cried, scratching at Bakugou’s wrist, making his skin bleed. “I only want what’s best for us!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” You covered your mouth, trying to think of what to do next. Should you call the police? Your parents!? What do you do now?

His eyes fell on Bakugou, practically snarling. “I knew he would do something like this!! I knew he would try to make me look like some psycho, but I’m not. I know how he would treat you! He’s a rabid fucking dog, a mongrel! I couldn’t let him treat you the same way! I couldn’t! I’m just trying to protect you! But you wouldn’t fucking listen!! So I thought if maybe you and I could talk you would understand! You would see what I’m-”

“ARGH!”

Your body tensed as the smell of burnt stone and ash filled the air. You looked up and half expected his head to be blown clean off. But it was still attached, only now he looked terrified as he stared down at Bakugou. You followed his gaze, saw the look of pure, unadulterated rage. His hand had connected to the wall beside the man’s head, smoke dancing up and around them. And he was shaking. Oh, god, how hard Bakugou was shaking.

He spoke low, deep in his chest. “Listen close, you freak. You’re going to leave her alone from this point forward - you got that? If I find out you’re even thinking about her, I’ll kill you myself!!”

The world fell silent. No one said a word until. Your stalker was crying now, shaking as he nodded, quickly, mumbling apology after apology. You couldn’t find the words to say, but your heart. God, your heart was beating so hard in your chest as you stared at Bakugou. He...he was...

Oh.

The window in the house behind you slid open. An older man leaned out the window, his wife nervously peering over his shoulder. The looked to the source of the commotion before standing up straight, fumbling as the smoke continued to rise from the spot Bakugou...well...destroyed. “Hey!! If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the cops!”

...the police.

...

The police.

Oh god, you had his phone. You could prove he had been stalking you!!! You perked up, smiling for the first time in weeks, “Yes! Yes, please, call the police!”

The man stared at you, confusion on his face. “....what?”

The weight of the situation only grew heavier when the police searched the contents of the guy’s backpack.

Rope. A knife. Some cloth. A box of condoms. And a jar of a clear, sickly sweet smelling liquid. You heard one of the officers say what it was, though you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear. But you did, and so did your parents. Your mom nearly broke down for the third time that evening as your father swore under his breath.

Homemade chloroform.

His name was Eito Moto - a second year at another High School near your home. You would find out later that the stalking had started long before the Sports Festival - ever since he started working at the coffee shop you and your mom would go to every Sunday for breakfast. Your neighbors, the ones who actually called the police, had seen him hanging around sometimes but didn’t think much off it.

They thought he had just been a fan.

They decided not to press charges against Bakugou for putting a hole in their fence. “Given the circumstances,” The man said, “I think I would have done the same thing.”

You had to go to the police station to file a report and request a restraining order. It took well into the morning hours, where you mainly spent your time talking to different police officers, retelling the same story, going over evidence, assuring them you didn’t know this guy so you had no clue why he thought you two had been dating for months.

They sent Bakugou home, your parents offering him their thanks and promises they would find a better, proper way to think him for essentially saving your life.

By the time you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed, it was 2 in the morning. It had been so long since you felt...okay. Your stalker was in police custody for now, you could at least rest easy tonight. You gripped your pillows, tugging them up and over your head to block out what meager light filtered in through the hallway. No more late night calls. No more insistent texts telling you what a no good whore you were. You were okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

Bzzzz.

...oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

You peeked out from under your pillow, trying to calm your racing heart. It couldn’t be him, you thought. He was in jail, so they wouldn’t let him call you - right? They wouldn’t let him do that, even if they did give him one call. With shaking fingers, you reached out and plucked your phone from your end table.

Bakugou is calling!

Oh....oh thank god.

You couldn’t press accept fast enough. You sighed, resting back against your pillows. “Hey.”

“Is that bastard in jail?”

A laugh, a good honest laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s in jail. Dad and mom are gonna to talk to a lawyer tomorrow about our options.”

“Did you get a restraining order?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’s what took so long and why we have to go to court. They gave me an emergency one so...” You blew out a puff of air, watching as a lock of your hair jumped up and fell back into place. “At least there’s that.”

“You should have talked to me about this sooner.” It was softer than you anticipated, less of a bite than he normally had.

You knew you should have. You should have told someone but...it felt so...pointless? Like it wouldn’t have mattered. But, you had to give credit where credit was due. “I wish I would have.”

He didn’t respond. You had expected he would have started yelling at you, about hiding it from everyone. Chastised you for being so stupid and letting it go on for as long as it had. But no, he stayed quiet. You could imagine him laying in bed, staring up at his ceiling, and wondered what he was thinking about. What he wanted to say.

You rolled over onto your side. “Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

There was a long pause before he let out a soft noise.

“Don’t be stupid. I was only doing what I had to do.”

Stalkers are fucking scary, yah know. I had to listen to some voicemails left by stalkers to get the vibe down right - and I still don’t think Eito sounded perfect but hey. At least one blessing in that: I’ve never been stalked.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha #bnha x reader #katuski bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo #x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha #mha x reader #tw: stalking #tw: noncon mention #if you need anything else tagged #let me know!

304 notes · View notes

peterprkrsbtch · 3 years

Text

sapphire - part 1

Peter Parker x reader

A/N: This is some type of wish fulfillment writing for me because I like to imagine becoming a hot and badass superhero when I fall asleep and I thought other people may be entertained as well :) If you enjoy it, like or reblog to share!

REMINDER: in this story, the reader gains superpowers and I do describe the appearance of her body. i hope you know every body is a superhero body and weight does not impact your beauty at all-i just needed to show how drastic the changes were!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, attempted kidnapping, guns/violence

The sun that came beaming through your window brightly as you opened the blinds in your room immediately brought a small smile to your face. Summer had always been your favorite season. As smart as you were, a three month break from Midtown has never sounded better. Junior year had not been easy for you.

Small goosebumps appear on your arms as you shiver when the memory of that night crosses your mind.

***

You’d been walking home after your first day of school, distracted as images of the day flicker through your mind. The first day was always exciting, new classes and people. Probably why you were too distracted to notice the man creeping up behind you until he wrapped his hands around your backpack and yanked it off of your back, making you let out a yelp of surprise.

Or, he’d tried to. Unfortunately, this dumb ass criminal didn’t know how backpack straps work and when he tugged, the straps caught around your arms and yanked you off your feet, slamming your body into your attacker with a groan.

Panic immediately clouded your mind. You’d never been mugged before. You try desperately to remember anything from the self defense class you’d taken in seventh grade. The attacker seemed surprised that your bag hadn’t slid off your body and this gave you the opportunity to scream. “Help!” You shrieked. “Somebody!” It was the middle of the day in New York and yet, the street you were walking was dead empty.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man growled in your ear and you suddenly became aware of his death grip on your arm. Before you could contemplate punching him in the face or kneeing his dick, a sharp poke on your arm made you whip your head, just in time to see a needle full of glowing blue liquid being injected into your arm by the man. He hadn’t wanted your backpack at all.

The shock you felt as you watched the unfamiliar substance enter your body was amplified at the burning sensation quickly spreading from the injection site to your whole upper arm. The man lets out a harsh laugh, and you finally turn to see his face. He did not look like a homeless man. Or a thief. The sight of his groomed beard and expensive jacket made you feel like you’d been plunged in ice. What the hell was happening?

“What did you do to me?” The sound of your voice is much stronger than you expect it to be, and it helps to ease a couple of the butterflies going mental inside your stomach. At least you didn’t sound terrified. He just lets out a low laugh and begins to drag you by your backpack towards a car parked on the opposite side of the road you hadn’t noticed until now.

“You’re coming with me.”

The burning had spread to your entire left arm and was now taking over your left shoulder. If you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins due to your current situation, you would’ve been doubled over with pain. You struggle against the man’s hold on your backpack as he drags you closer to the large black SUV.

Hell no. I am not getting kidnapped today. You force yourself to calm enough to quickly think of a plan. Any plan. When the man reaches the car despite your struggling, a disgusting sneer on his face, he lets go of his grip on your arm to reach for the handle, and you take your chance to head-butt him as hard as you possibly can-letting your arms slide out of the backpack as you do.

“Ow! Get back here you little bitch!” But it’s too late. In the two seconds when the man doubles over to clutch at his head, you’d snatched your backpack from the ground where he’d let it fall and sprinted down the street. You try to tell yourself that the unbearable burning sensation now settling into your chest is from running, not from whatever the fuck he’d injected you with.

***

A loud beep, beep from the clock on your bedside table snaps you out of reminiscing on your near death experience and a large smile grows on your face. Finally it was 5 p.m, the time when your mom usually went over to her boyfriend’s apartment across town. Every night, like clockwork, since you were 13.

It used to bother you, but now the silence gives you the opportunity to do what you needed to do alone. You get up and move towards your closet as you let your mind slip into your memories again as you reminisce on the events after the attack.

***

You’d run home like hell and had never been so grateful to find that your mom had left early. Within ten minutes, the burning had spread and you were left to writhe around in pain on your bed for hours. There was no let up, no break. You knew you were going to die.

Whatever the man had injected in you was breaking apart every muscle, every atom in your body so slowly that you could feel it. Eventually, your pained screams became quieter as exhaustion began to take over. This is it. I’m really going to die. My mom is going to come home and find me like this-

Before you could finish your thought, a harsh gasp involuntarily left your mouth and you launch forward to sit up. Okay, maybe I’m not going to die. You thought as the pain suddenly ceases. You slowly bring your hands up to stare at them, scared that the pain will return. Just as you’re about to let out a breath of relief, it hits you again.

And it’s so much worse. The burning sensation shoots through your body, and every broken muscle and molecule felt as though it was being bound together again. The minutes bleed together as exhaustion and pain take over your body.

***

Looking back, you still have no idea what was in the injection. All you know is what happened because of it.

***

Beep, beep.

BEEP, BEEP.

The incessant beeping of your stupid alarm wakes you from quite possibly the weirdest dream you’ve ever had. You’ve never had pain in a dream feel so vivid before, and the memory alone draws your body inwards, hugging your arms in for comfort.

Your arms. Hold on.

They didn’t feel like this last night. You glance down at your skin, the shadow of your blanket making it hard to see. You rip the covers off and storm over to your full length mirror-and all you can do is let out a gasp. I’m going crazy.

With shaking hands, you grab your phone and unlock it, scrolling until you find a mirror selfie you had taken at the pool over summer, just two weeks ago. You glance at the photo, then back up at the mirror. Then at the photo, then the mirror. Photo, mirror, photo.

A shocked laugh rips through your lips as you stare at the photo of yourself. Smooth skin and curves. A couple extra pounds of baby fat you had yet to lose, a spot or three of acne on your forehead. You weren’t an extraordinarily insecure person, but you were a teenage girl and a couple of those things had bugged you but-

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror. You run your hands along your arms. You used to describe them as flabby, but you can feel and see the toned, tight skin. You move your eyes to your boobs. Were they bigger? They definitely looked bigger.

Any “baby fat” you carried had seemingly disappeared overnight. You slowly lift your shirt and let your jaw drop, running your hands over your small waist, not missing the muscle you can feel under your skin. Your skin was perfectly clear and your hair and lashes both seemed longer and healthier.

When you were younger and more naive, you’d hoped puberty would involve waking up one morning looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. But that was stupid. Things like that don’t happen, right?

Slowly, the events of yesterday began to register in your mind. The attack, the injection, the pain. A million questions flooded your mind. The most prominent being what the actual fuck??

“Y/n? You almost ready to leave for school?” Your mom’s voice rings out into your silent room as she knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah, Mom! Just a couple minutes.” You call out nervously, waiting until you hear her footsteps walk away from your door. You let out a curse as you race into the bathroom, the harsh lighting illuminating even more changes to your face.

Your lips were bigger, your eyes more open, and your cheekbones and jaw more defined. Fuck. If you weren’t so worried about anyone noticing your overnight transformation, you would’ve taken more time to think about the positives of this situation.

You were always shy and quiet at school, choosing a small group of people to hang around and mostly focusing on your classes. But every teenage girl dreams of being beautiful, and now you finally were. You pull your hair up to brush your teeth and wash your face faster than you ever have before, electing to ignore the fact that you should have a nasty bruise from your head-butt yesterday.

You choose to skip makeup completely, knowing it would draw more attention to your new face. You took one last look at your body in the mirror before pulling on the baggiest sweats you owned and a loose hoodie, hoping they would mask your new curves.

You had no idea how you were supposed to hide this all year.

***

You smiled as you remember how silly you’d acted the next day. You were overly paranoid, covering your face with your hoodie as much as you could and choosing to sit alone in the library rather than at your usual table. No one questioned you, not once.

You had felt a pang of loneliness at first, knowing that no one at your school even cared enough to notice the obvious change had hurt just a bit, but it made dealing with the powers easier.

***

You’d first noticed it on the walk to school. It was barely September and the summer sun was still coming down on the city. This paired with your heavy layers of clothing and the long walk to school would normally leave you slightly breathless. As you arrived at the school feeling more energized and alive than ever, you noticed you’d gotten there in a fourth of your normal time without even trying.

You next noticed it in gym, when the daily pushups the teachers forced you all to do every year were suddenly easy. Effortless. As soon as the final bell rang, you ran home within minutes without feeling winded at all and winced as you threw your door open, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges.

Something else was definitely going on. Your appearance was not the only thing that seemed to go through an upgrade. You said a quick hello to your mom before running up to your room.

For the first time since you woke up that morning, you relaxed once your door was closed and locked. Your shoulders release as you sink to your bed, dropping your head into your hands. You try to recall anything you’ve read about people being totally changed after some sort of injection.

Your heart sinks. Captain America jumps to mind. The Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff and her dead brother. They’d all been injected.

You bite your lip and glance at a book sitting on your bedside table. You straighten up and thrust your hands towards the book, trying to make it move. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. You close your eyes and breath out a small breath of relief. Ok so I’m beautiful now and have great endurance, at least I’m not a superhero. You let yourself relax slightly, your eyes still closed. Now you feel dumb for throwing your hands around like some kind of knock off Scarlet Witch.

When you open your eyes, your blood runs cold. The book is floating in front of you, a blue glow surrounding it. Slowly, you raise your, now shaking, hands again towards the book until they flash with the same blue and it launches towards you, the force of it making you rock back as you catch it in your hands.

Well. Fuck.

***

After that, you were thankful that no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. You bite down a smile as you remember the first few months after, thinking about how much you’d changed since then.

***

You spent nearly every night for weeks studying every superhero fight video you could find on youtube and practicing the moves alone in your empty house, over and over.

It didn’t take much for you to perfect them as your new body seemed to be built for this kind of shit. Black Widow was your favorite to watch, and you made sure to spend extra time working through her signature moves, letting the flips, kicks, and punches become muscle memory.

You spent time practicing your real powers as well, though those seemed to come to you naturally. After that first delay with the book, it had almost felt like second nature to lift up the heaviest objects in your house with just a wave of the hand, but still, you practiced. Over and over and over. You quickly learned you could move people as well, namely yourself. Flying over New York in the middle of the night was something that would always leave you breathless.

Once winter settled over New York, you decided you were finally ready to try and use your abilities for good. You had near perfect control over your “magic” and you were pretty sure you’d spent more hours in the past month punching the air than sleeping.

You spent all day Sunday bent over the dusty sewing machine you dug out of a shelf in your kitchen closet. The trip to Joann’s reminded you of your mother teaching a younger you how to sew, though you two never bought yards of spandex to make a skin tight suit.

It had taken a couple minutes for you to remember how to use the machine, but you were extremely proud of the final product. You’d made a simple skin tight black suit with a zipper up the front and a mask to cover most of your face, but you figured no one could recognize you by just your mouth.

Once you finished the last hem on your face mask, you took the suit and the mask and hid them in your closet next to a pair of black combat boots. You put the dusty machine away and finally made your way into your bathroom, glancing nervously at the box on the counter.

Although you had exactly zero friends at Midtown, you had grown up with some of these kids and you couldn’t risk one of them recognizing your hair color if they saw you in your superhero suit and the box advertising temporary spray on hair color seemed to be the perfect solution.

You take the small can out of the box and spray blonde-ish highlights into your hair and brush it through until your long hair is shades lighter than your natural color and you’re happy with the results.

Your hands shook as you pulled on your suit, then your mask, and finally, the black boots. You move to your mirror and nervously give yourself a glance, only to be pleasantly surprised. You really do look like a superhero, even more so when you will your hands to glow blue with your powers.

***

That night, you learned that you had severely underestimated yourself. You thought memories of your own attack would flash before your eyes every time you knocked down a criminal, but it didn’t.

Every time you would wrap your thighs around someone’s neck to drag them to the ground you felt strong and every time the person you just saved would begin to thank you aggressively, you knew you made the right decision to help people.

You kept your guard, and your hood, up during the school days but your months of training and now your late night rescues, had caused a spike in your confidence. After a particularly hard 18 vs. 1 fight in which your zipper had gotten yanked down a bit, you just left it. It looked better like that anyway.

You wished you had someone to show the new you. You used to be so unsure of yourself, and now because of a seemingly random attack, you had the ability to help people. It definitely felt good to be doing something good.

Unfortunately, your endeavors started to become sensationalized. New York was obsessed with superheroes, you knew this. But you never thought people would start paying attention to you.

You should’ve known better. A girl with enhanced curves in a skin tight suit, flying around the city with glowing blue hands and fighting crime with her front zipper pulled down, and you thought you could remain invisible in the media too?

Luckily for you, the spotlight was cast upon another new superhero around the same time-a Spiderman. Once he entered the superhero scene just weeks after yourself, you noticed the articles you’d previously seen sexualizing you and your costume turned into articles about the two of you instead. If only those reporters knew you were 17.

You were thankful for him even though you’d never met him, and your two names “Spiderman and Sapphire” were often used in the same headlines to discuss you two newcomers.

At first you hated the nickname the media gave you simply because of the increased attention, but you learned to love it. It was nice to see people appreciating what you were doing, even though every camera that was ever pointed your way made you anxious to protect your identity.

Ever since your first winter night spent fighting crime, you’d quickly fallen into a pattern. School with your eyes glued to your desk the whole time, sweats and hoodies concealing your body, then homework until your mom leaves, then go out and help your city.

Your fighting has improved to the point that you almost prefer hand to hand combat rather than using your powers. On especially slow nights, you’ve let yourself drag out a fight with some bank robbers or kidnappers just to entertain yourself.

It was your escape. In your suit, with your face covered and your hair thick with the lightening spray, was the only time you felt like yourself. Really yourself.

But you had a plan to change that. As easy as it had been to lay low throughout the last year at school, you’d had enough. You wanted more. So you had a plan. A new body and face overnight is impossible, but over three months? Totally plausible.

You were excited for three months with nothing to do but go out as Sapphire, and you knew these few months were going to be the calm before the storm if you really decided to go back to Midtown as the new you.

God, enough with the reminiscing. You told yourself, but you do allow yourself to feel pride at how much you’d matured from your first day of school this year to your last as you tug on your familiar suit and mask.

***

You glance down at the buildings beneath you, eyes silently scanning every dark alley and corner for trouble. Your hands glow blue as you fly yourself gracefully through the sky. Suddenly, loud sirens and screams sound from beneath you and you look down to see 8 large men climbing into a bank as they smashed the windows.

You quickly fly yourself down and through the hole behind the men as they point guns towards the only two people in the bank, a janitor and a man you assume is the manager. “Give us the fucking money.” One of the men growls and the others laugh menacingly at their friend’s threat.

The manager notices you standing behind the men and his eyes widen, causing the men to start to turn towards you. You grab the gun out of one of their hands using your powers and smirk at the oh, shit look on their faces. Before you can make a move to knock the man nearest you off his feet, a web snaps through the broken window and snatches the gun from his hands before you can blink.

Spiderman comes swinging through the opening, landing gracefully. “What’s going on here, fellas?” He asks, and you can’t help but smirk at the sound of his voice. The two of you seemed to live similar lives, and yet this was your first time meeting him.

The white eyes of his mask flicker from the men, frozen with fear, towards you, and his eyes grow with recognition and maybe shock? Hard to tell with the mask. He opens his mouth to say something else, but one of the men still holding guns raises it and fires towards Spiderman without a second of hesitation.

You raise your hand quickly, stopping the bullet in mid-air and everyone around you stares at the bullet suspended in mid-air, your glowing blue hand outstretched, almost as if you were catching it. Spiderman’s eyes widen even more. “Holy shit.”

You smile to yourself and clench your hand into a fist, letting the bullet crumble to the ground in dust. “Nice try.” You say to the man. “But you’re getting on my nerves.” You turn towards the 8 men in front of you, 5 still holding guns. You move your hand to face the men, and with a sweeping motion, the 5 guns are yanked from their hands to suspend far above their heads, where they couldn’t reach.

You can’t help a small laugh as one of the men tries to jump up and grab it. You turn towards Spiderman who’s standing there with his mouth wide open. “Sorry if I stole your moment.” You say genuinely. You had no doubt that he could’ve taken care of this himself, but you had gotten here first.

“Are you kidding?” He nearly squeaked. “That was amazing, oh my god! I can’t believe we haven’t met until now.” Your cheeks blaze slightly under your mask from his praise, you’ve never had a superhero compliment you before. You adjust your focus back to the men quickly, who seem to be thinking of a way to run.

Your eyes meet Spidey’s again. “You wanna web ‘em up?” He nods excitedly, his eyes finally breaking from yours as he jumps into action. As impressed as he was by you, you couldn’t help but watch in awe as he swings around the room and with a thwick, he webs all of the men together in a cocoon, hanging upside down from the chandelier of the bank ceiling.

He swings himself one last time to land next to you again. “Cool.” You say before you can even realize your mouth is open. “I mean, you’re not too bad yourself.” He bows his head a bit, seeming shy even though it was a half-compliment to cover up your embarrassment.

“Sorry to bust in on your fight,” He says, glancing around the room towards the two terrified employees staring at the two of you in shock. “Not a lot happening tonight, and I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ugh, I know.” You agree. “Not to complain about less crime, but our jobs have been a little bit too easy this past week.” His mask crinkles as he smiles.

“We could...work together sometime if you wanted too, of course.” He says nervously, nearly stuttering on his words. “It’s just, you’re really good and you seem really cool and I-”

You interrupt his word vomit. “Of course I want to! I’ve been wondering when we would meet.” His eyes move from staring at the eye holes in your mask down to your lips when you smile. “How’s tomorrow?”

“How’s right now?” You don’t think your smile can get wider. “One sec.” He holds up a finger before quickly running over to the two bank workers, who thank you both over and over and then they both hugged him. You were wrong, your smile grows and remains goofy and big as he runs back over to you. “Let’s go.”

That night you found out that your view of the city is 100 times better when you can also see a red and blue suit swinging from building to building out of the corner of your eye.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction

107 notes · View notes