#trope: caught in a storm
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been trying to swim with both my hands behind my back
The Bear. Sydney and Carmy. Immediately post-2x10.
for the @badthingshappenbingo square "Caught in a Storm"
"Oh," he says, voice distant. "It's really fucking raining."
"Yeah," she says, instead of I told you so. Wraps her arms around herself. The wet bandana is still in her hand. She's going to have to do something with it. She can't for the life of her imagine what. It feels like she's thrown up all of her resolve. Like gravity has given up. Like she's untethered from the floor.
He turns around suddenly. "You can go, you know. You don't have to—" He's a mirror of her, arms wrapped around himself— "Stay," he finishes like it wasn't what he wanted to say. She can see the headache in the pull of the muscles of his face.
"Well," she says, and it's quieter than she'd meant. "It's raining. So."
He looks up from under his hair where it's falling in his eyes; looks impossibly young; looks like all of the sinews of his entire self have been wound tight like over-tuned piano wires and at least a third of them have already given way.
Read it below or on AO3.
The rain comes all at once. Without warning, if you haven't checked your phone in the last three and a half hours.
She decides her stomach is going to have to be able to handle going inside.
Tina hands her water on her way in the door and pats her shoulder sympathetically, then goes back to making sure the last touches of the kitchen cleanup are done. Gary's shaking hands with a guy with some sort of… chainsaw? and showing him out the door. Marcus and Richie are nowhere to be seen.
Natalie appears around the corner, and she's smiling but her eyes and her mouth are complicated, a little bit sad. She wraps Sydney up in an unexpected hug and then pulls back like she's afraid she might have gone too far, and Syd smiles at her reassuringly.
"We fucking did it," Nat says. Sydney nods, holding her gaze and then breaking it to look at the destroyed walk-in door.
"Carmy's out?" she says, even though obviously Carmy is out, because it's easier than any of the other questions she could ask about that.
Natalie presses her lips together, worrying them between her teeth. "He is." Eyes flicking toward the office.
"Okay." She can see Pete through the window into the dining room, waiting for Nat. Infinite patience, that guy. Baffling, but in a sweet way. Sydney looks at the office door, then back at Nat. "I've got him. You go."
So uncertain, so young: "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Yes." She can still taste the stomach acid on her tongue. "Go. I'd say try to beat the rain, but I guess it's already here."
Nat blinks at the front window like she hadn't realized. "Oh. Yeah. Okay."
Pete holds up two umbrellas through the window in the door, smiling like he would be happy to wait there all night.
"Go," she says insistently, and Natalie pulls her in to kiss her on the cheek, and then she's back through the door and Pete's got his arm around her and is trying to put up one of the umbrellas before they're even out the door. Nat swats it down and she's laughing, head tipped against his, arm in arm on their way out into the rain.
The kitchen is clean. She should've helped. Guilt twists in her gut, and she breathes through it, because she does not want to end up back out in the alley again.
Tina appears beside her again and Sydney starts. "I'm going to go," Tina says, and Syd nods on autopilot. Somehow everyone else has disappeared. "They're predicting floods and shit. Make sure you get out of here safe, okay?"
"Okay."
"You did good, Chef," Tina says, peering up at her until Sydney meets her gaze.
Sydney makes herself nod again. "You too, Chef. Good night."
-- -- --
She hesitates in front of the office, and then goes inside.
Carmy's pacing. One hand in his hair, the other holding an unlit cigarette. Putting it to his lips like he's gonna risk burning the whole place down. Pulling it away again.
"You're out," she says.
"I'm out." Doesn't look at her. His ears and his eyes and his nose are rimmed in red. "What the fuck happened out there?"
"We made it work." She's going for confident, but the panic is back, the acid in her throat and the shake in her hands and the goddamn fucking ticket machine printing again and again—
"Syd." He touches her arms between her wrists and her whites and it's the ice of his skin that pulls her back, grounds her, eyes locked with his, and she swallows hard and breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth.
"Yeah," she says, "No, it's okay, I just, I was just—" she gestures with a grimace— "throwing up everything I've eaten in the last three years and I thought for a second it was gonna happen again, which doesn't seem like it should be possible and yet here we fucking are, but. Yeah. I'm good now. So." She breaks off and he's still got his hands on her, his eyes on her, and she swallows hard and bites the inside of her lip to keep from rambling any more.
"Syd." Impossibly serious. "You have my full attention. This has my full attention."
She blinks at him. They're the right words, and yet something feels wrong. "Okay?"
He doesn't say anything else, just looks toward the doorway like he's not sure whether it's safe to leave the room.
"Everyone else is gone," she says, stepping back from his touch and running a hand over her hair. It catches her bandana, wet from the alley. She pulls it off. Shakes out her braids. "It's raining."
He looks at her like that explains nothing, but pulls a hand down his face. The cigarette is still between his fingers. Waiting in this uncertain in-between.
"Okay," he says. She's still a little dizzy from nausea, but he looks a little dizzy like he hasn't been breathing right: shallow, barely getting any new oxygen in his lungs. It's the carbon dioxide, says some far-off voice in her head that for some reason sounds like Richie. When you hyperventilate during a panic attack. Not enough carbon dioxide. Counterintuitive but true.
She steps away from the door and he goes out like a man in a dream into the empty kitchen. The empty dining room.
"Oh," he says, voice distant even though she'd followed him there. "It's really fucking raining."
"Yeah," she says, instead of I told you so. Wraps her arms around herself. The wet bandana is still in her hand. She's going to have to do something with it. She can't for the life of her imagine what. It feels like she's thrown up all of her resolve. Like gravity has given up. Like she's untethered from the floor.
He turns around suddenly. "You can go, you know. You don't have to—" He's a mirror of her, arms wrapped around himself— "Stay," he finishes like it wasn't what he wanted to say. She can see the headache in the pull of the muscles of his face.
"Well," she says, and it's quieter than she'd meant. "It's raining. So."
He looks up from under his hair where it's falling in his eyes; looks impossibly young; looks like all of the sinews of his entire self have been wound tight like over-tuned piano wires and at least a third of them have already given way.
-- -- --
She changes into the spare clothes in her locker; puts the gift from Carmy (fuck, Carm, what a gift) away carefully and doesn't close the door, just drapes her bandana over the top of it to dry. Goes back out to the darkened front of house to watch the downpour.
Carmy's back, cigarette smoke and the smell of rain on pavement clinging to his clothes. "My shoes got wet," he says, and Sydney looks down and he's in his socks; shoes left at the door between the kitchen and the front. The sidewalk is a river in front of their door. Lightning flashes in the distance and they wait, breathless, for the thunder, and exhale when it finally comes.
She steps out of her own shoes. Feels the floor through her socks. Clean enough to eat off, right? That's the deal.
The rain gets louder. The lights flicker, but stay on.
The walk-in is fucked. More fucked if the power goes out.
Carmy steps up to the window with her. Shoulder to shoulder. She can hear him breathe.
Another flash of lightning, and the eerie blue light of a transformer in the distance blowing to hell.
"Fuck," she says, at the same time as Carmy pulls in a ragged breath and the same time as the thunder hits.
They're in the dark.
Carmy's hand brushes hers, his knuckles against the back of her hand, just this quick reassurance that he's still here. Still freezing. Still here.
She's mentally going through all the food they've got stored but there's nothing they can do. Only good thing is that there wasn't that much left after service. If the power's still out when their next shipment is due, that's when they'll really need a plan.
"Fuck!" He's clearly just finished the same calculation.
She doesn't tell him it's okay.
He jackknifes at the waist, both hands in his hair, breathing still ragged and getting worse; comes back up dizzyingly fast; turns to pace and runs right the fuck into a table and a chair, the corner of the table sharp into his hip and the chair leg unforgiving against his unprotected toes.
She holds her breath against the oncoming scream-shove-crash of furniture to floor, but there's just a bitten-back moan. He curls in on himself away from the table and sinks to the floor, backlit from the kitchen by the dim emergency lights. He sucks in a breath and drinks in the pain like it's medicine, bitter on his tongue but nonetheless what he needs. What he thinks he deserves.
Same table.
The one from before.
She lays a hand on the wood, stepping carefully through the darkness between it and him. Sinks down beside him as he lays onto his back: knees in the air, hands clasped over his eyes, elbows out. She sits down cross-legged and leans back on one hand, studying him in the little bit of light.
"I fucked up," he says, and she just nods, even though he can't see her through his hands. "I fucked up," he says again, like she's supposed to say something, here, and she just sighs and slips down next to him on the floor, sliding forward toward the kitchen until they're mirrored like puzzle pieces. Rotational symmetry. That's the word.
"I mean, yeah, calling the fridge guy would have been a good idea." There's so much more she could say. She bites her tongue.
"No." He's digging the sides of his clasped hands into his eyes. "Before that. And after that. Just like— everything." He takes a breath, and lifts his hands so he can open his eyes, and rolls his head sideways to look at her. "I wasn't there, and I should have been, and I'm sorry." He looks back up at the ceiling and drops his hands back onto his eyes. "It won't be a problem again."
She wants to give him shit about it but there's something in his voice those last few words. "No?"
"No. Claire and I are done."
"Oh."
"You don't have to pretend you're not happy about that."
"I want you to be happy, Carm." Spoken to the ceiling. Barely audible over the driving rain.
A sound of disgust, but not directed at her. "I don't think happiness is compatible with what we're working toward, here."
"Yeah." She flips her gaze over to him. Still covering his eyes. "Hey." He doesn't look at her, so she taps his elbow. Once he's looking at her: "But what if it was?"
He just shakes his head and puts his hands over his eyes again.
Silence, for a while. The place feels weirdly empty without the background hum of machines. The only sound the cars sluicing by on the street. Honking at each other at the intersections where the traffic lights have gone out.
"I couldn't do it," she says into the darkness. Feels him shift beside her. Moving his hands behind his head. Looking over at her sideways. "Richie had to expo. I just…." She shakes her head. "Froze." Another breath. "Drowned."
"I'm sorry," Carmy whispers. All those promises. I'll be there. You won't be alone. I won't let you fail.
"He was fucking good at it, too. Which should make me feel better, but…"
But somehow it's just salt in the wound.
"Not sure if Richie's gonna be talking to me anytime soon." He picks his head up and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Pulls his palms down his face.
She waits. Just more silence. "Say more?"
"We both said some shit through that door that there's no taking back." Tucks his hands into his armpits like he's trying to stay warm.
"You're family. He'll come around."
"You say family like it means something other than pure fucking chaos. Than the people who know exactly where to where to slide the knife to cut you wide fucking open and leave you bleeding out on the floor."
She rolls onto her side, one arm tucked under her head. He's trembling, just a little, in the low, low light. "Nat's not going to cut you open."
"No, but no matter how hard she tries, she can't sew me back up."
She puts her free hand on his shoulder, tentatively at first and then with some weight when he reaches up across his body, other hand still tucked in against himself, and catches her fingers with his own. Still far too cold.
She wills warmth through the touch, and takes a breath. Lets it out. "I think maybe this is something we either do broken or we don't do at all."
He blinks fast through threatening tears. Bites his lip. Another car swishes by through the rain.
He squeezes her hand. Sirens in the distance. Out on the bridge.
She squeezes back. The tracks are flooding, all the trains called off. Who knows what the city will look like at morning light. Maybe better, maybe worse.
She watches shadows on the ceiling of this place, this island in the storm, and breathes, and listens to him breathe beside her.
They don't let go.
#the bear#the bear fx#the bear fx fanfiction#carmy x sydney#sydcarmy#you can read it as platonic or romantic your choice#by:hopeintheashes#my bthb fics#badthingshappenbingo#fandom: the bear#trope: caught in a storm
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i'll be home for christmas | part one
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.
Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, reader has a childhood nickname only her family uses, Hallmark tropes up the wazoo, soft!joel, reader's sister is pregnant, talks of infidelity, talks of divorce, alcohol use, kissing, (smut in part two)
WC: 9.1K
A/N: this is my take on a cheesy, fluffy, soft, smutty, Joel Miller Hallmark Christmas movie. It's just sweet and silly and makes me smile, and I hope it does the same for you. I also wrote this in less than 2 days and didn't really edit it much, so sorry in advance if there's any errors.
Found the pic on Twitter but can't remember the source, if you know please send me a message and i will credit them
Series Masterlist
It was the second week of December as you stood inside the airport in Austin, Texas, waiting for your luggage to emerge on the conveyor belt. You thought by coming home early, you would have avoided the holiday traffic, but you were wrong. All around you, people squealed with excitement and embraced, dragging their worn out luggage behind them as they made their way out of the bustling airport. You tried to keep the scowl from your face as you watched, but it was next to impossible, so you wrapped your Burberry scarf around your neck instead, hoping to hide your displeasure.
This was not the plan you had for Christmas. You should be in New York in a high-rise apartment in front of a roaring fireplace with a glass of wine and your fiancé - ex-fiancé - not back in Austin with your parents, who begged you to come visit for the holidays after you told them the news.
Coming home to visit wasn't your favorite thing, but you felt guilty having avoided the holidays with your family for so many years, and you would have ended up all alone in the city anyway. So you caved, using up all the PTO you saved for the wedding, and took the rest of the year off from work.
Your designer luggage stood out like a sore thumb when it tumbled down the conveyor belt. You winced after watching the impact and snatched it up quickly. Glancing around, you saw a beacon in the storm: a familiar green, glowing sign in the distance - Starbucks. The line was long, but your flight was early, so you waited and got a latte, hoping it would lift your spirits a bit before you had to face your parents.
You tapped the side of your coffee cup anxiously as you rode the escalator down to the first floor, scanning the crowd for your mom and dad. There were a few people holding up signs with names on them, and when you saw the sign that said "Bucket" on it, you cringed.
Your dad's tall, round frame came into view when the people in front of him dispersed. He looked almost exactly the same, except a little greyer. Still sporting a shockingly full head of hair and his signature thick mustache, he grinned and pulled you into a warm hug.
"Really, Dad? 'Bucket'?"
"Well, that's what we call you, ain't it?" he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes and tried to be annoyed, but you had to admit that you were happy to see him.
"Where's Mom?" you asked.
"She's waitin' in the car, didn't wanna pay for parking so we're in a pick up zone, let's hustle," he said, wrapping his arm around you as he led you outside. "How was the flight?"
"Long," you said, then gasped when the cold air hit you. "Wow, I didn't think it would be this cold yet."
"It's been a cold one so far this year," he nodded, directing you to the left where you could see your mom smiling and waving from the passenger seat of their white SUV. You waved back and grinned. Maybe coming home wasn't such a bad idea, after all.
"Hiya, Bucky!" your mom said happily, leaning out of the window to give you a half hug while your dad loaded up your belongings in the back.
"Hey, Mom," you replied. "I like your sweater."
She was wearing one of her tacky Christmas sweaters that she wore every year - unironically. It amazed you how some things never change.
You climbed into the back seat as your dad carefully exited the parking spot and joined the line of cars that were slowly inching towards the main road.
"We're so glad you decided to come home this year, you can finally see the new house!" your mom said excitedly. They had built a brand new house, and the way she provided updates and pictures to you over the phone for the past year, you felt like you had already seen it.
"Yeah, can't wait," you said, staring out the window.
"Hope you don't mind, but we're throwin' a party tomorrow night," your dad said, glancing at you in the review mirror. "Wanted to have our friends over to see the place and have an early holiday party. They'll be so happy to see you, it's been so long since you've been home, Buck."
You had been hoping to spend most of the next three weeks in bed moping and scrolling on your phone. The thought of a party and seeing all those people looking at you with pity made your stomach turn. Your mom must have sensed your discomfort.
"It's alright, honey. They won't say anything," she said softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
"Okay," you replied, your voice pained as you opened your eyes to stare at the passing traffic on the thruway.
You'll make an appearance for an hour, and then try to sneak back upstairs until the party ends, already fabricating a headache to blame it on.
The house your parents built was impressive, even you had to admit. It was a two story colonial with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The open floor plan was stunning as you made your way from room to room. The first floor alone had a spacious living room with vaulted ceilings, a kitchen with an attached dining room, and a separate family room off the back. There was even a small office by the front door that you missed the first time around, and a pantry as big as your closet back home.
You cringed at the thought, reminding yourself that it was no longer your home. That was part of the problem. You had moved in with Will, and when you discovered he had been cheating on you, you crashed at your friend Melanie's place. When you tearfully told your parents the news a few days later, they asked you to come home. Just for the holidays, your mom had said. Just to give you time to figure out your next move.
"This is beautiful, Mom," you said honestly, admiring the fine details on the cabinets.
"Thank you, sweetie. Took a long time, but Joel built it just right for us," she said, beaming.
"Oh, the contractor, right?" you replied, distracted now by the backsplash above the counters.
"He's such a sweet man, he was so patient with us when we changed our minds a million times over every little thing."
"Well, tell him he did a great job," you murmured, opening and shutting different drawers.
"You can tell him yourself, he'll be at the party tomorrow," your dad said, opening the fridge to scrounge for some snacks.
"You invited your contractor to your holiday party?" you asked in disbelief.
"Sure we did. We either saw him or spoke to him almost every single day for a year. He's a good man."
"Okay," you said slowly, still finding it a bit strange, but reminding yourself that things worked a little differently in the south.
"Bucket!" you heard your sister call from the front of the house. A smile plastered across your face instantly as you rushed to the door, both of you squealing as you wrapped your arms around each other and jumped in a circle, unable to contain your excitement.
"Cassie!" you said, pulling back to look at her, brushing her sleek, dark brown hair over her shoulder. "You look fantastic!"
"Ugh, I feel like shit," she said, and you laughed, glancing down at her barely swollen belly.
"How far along are you again?" you asked.
"Twenty weeks, but I'm ready for this to be over! I'm so tired all the time, it sucks," she said, flopping down on the couch in the living room after she gave your parents quick hugs.
"Where's Josh?" your mom asked, referring to your brother in law.
"He's still working, he'll be by later," Cassie said, waving her hand. "Gives us a chance to catch up," she added with a wink.
"You girls do that, we need to go to the store for tomorrow night. Do you need anything?" your mom asked, and you shook your head, eager for them to leave so you could be alone with your sister.
"Tell me everything," Cassie said the moment the door clicked shut.
If it were anyone else, you wouldn't have been in the mood to talk about the mess that was currently your life, but you've always been able to talk about anything with your sister. You trusted each other implicitly and there was no judgement, no matter if you had cheated on a test or gotten drunk during prom, you told each other everything.
So you did. You told her how for months, you felt like something was off with Will. How he would stay out late and say it was for work, but none of his work friends ever posted about going anywhere those nights on social media. He grew more distant and you tried to ignore your paranoia, but when he collapsed into bed one night, too out of it to wash up, and you saw the lipstick on his neck the next morning, you lost it. He hardly even tried to explain himself, barely even attempted to lie, and you began to think maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted you to do the dirty work and end things so he didn't have to. Fucking coward.
"What a piece of shit. I never liked him," Cassie said when you were finished. "He acted like he was so much better than everyone when he was here, do you remember the comments he made about the wine mom had? It was so fucking rude."
"Yeah, I know," you agreed.
"So why were you even with him?"
"We had been together since college, Cas," you said, exasperated. "I knew him before he was like that. He used to be sweet and fun. Then he got that finance job and met all those assholes and he became just like them."
"Well, I'm just glad you didn't end up married before finding out what he's really like," she said, shifting her weight on the couch with her hand cupping her small stomach. "That would have been a huge mess."
"It's still a huge mess, I have no where to live now, and I can only couch surf for so long," you said, burying your face in your hands.
"You'll figure it out, Buck. I'll help you look for places online while you're here. Maybe set up some appointments so you can tour them when you get back."
"Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. "That would actually be great."
"Now, on to more important things," your sister said, slapping her palms against her knees to stand.
"Baby names?" you asked.
"No! Let's figure out what you'll wear to the party tomorrow," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I wanna look through all your fancy designer clothes."
You giggled and stood to join her.
"Fine, but I'm still dropping baby names while you look," you replied.
After spending a majority of the next day helping your parents decorate and prepare food for the party, you finally were able to excuse yourself to shower and get ready. Cassie had picked out a Ralph Lauren lace cocktail dress that Will had bought for your birthday last year. You slipped it on, running your hands over the fabric as you adjusted the dress in the mirror. Just because he bought it didn't mean you couldn't wear it again. You snatched the glass of wine from your dresser and took a sip, trying to push the thought of him from your head as you made your way downstairs.
Cassie and Josh were already in the kitchen, munching on appetizers and chatting with your parents. Cassie let out a low whistle when you entered the room. You waved her off and gave Josh a big hug and kiss on the cheek.
"Good to see you," you told him with a smile. "All ready for the baby?"
"Getting there," Josh replied, wrapping an arm around Cassie's waist. You tried to ignore the ugly, jealous pit in your stomach as he told you how the nursery was coming along. You wasted so many years of your life on Will. Your sister was already married and starting a family, and here you were, basically homeless and starting over. Pathetic.
Family friends slowly began to trickle into the house, luckily being whisked away by your parents to give them a tour after you meekly greeted them and hid back in the kitchen. As more and more people arrived, you began to wonder how your parents kept so many close friends when you barely had a handful back in New York.
A few kids raced by you in the kitchen as you made your way to the bar to refill your wine. Even though it was loud, you could still hear your dad's booming voice as he regaled a friend with a fishing story. You wandered around a bit, trying to find Cassie and Josh so you didn't look out of place, but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw them chatting with Mr. Tanner and his son, Troy, backing away before they could see you. Troy used to have the biggest crush on you when you were kids. If he found out you were single, you wouldn't be able to shake him all night.
You eventually found yourself alone, back in front of the snacks. You picked at the chips on your plate, not really interested in eating but hoping to avoid any awkward conversations, so you kept your eyes down, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Apparently, it wasn't good enough because you felt someone sidle up next to you.
"Those any good?" a deep, unfamiliar drawl spoke from your side. You looked up to find the softest pair of brown eyes you've ever seen on a man. Blinking, you took a moment as your gaze raked over his patchy beard and the dark, tousled curls on his head. They looked so soft, you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them. What was wrong with you?
"Huh?" you managed to squeak out after you realized you had waited too long to reply. Idiot.
"The, uh, chips," he said, pointing at your plate before rubbing the back of his neck.
"Oh!" you said, looking at your plate, completely forgetting you even had it. "Yeah, they're alright."
He nodded and glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next. He cleared his throat and tried again.
"How do you know Paul and Martha?"
Distracted, you watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his red flannel over his shoulders, pulling the material taught. You had to remind yourself to pay attention and stop gawking at this man like he was a piece of meat. Jesus, maybe you should stop drinking.
"They're my parents," you said after a moment, your eyes flicking across the room, finding them with a group of their friends with your dad's arm wrapped around your mom's shoulder as she giggled and gazed up at him adoringly.
"Oh, you're Cassie," the man said, his eyes dropping from your face to your stomach, and you swore you saw a glimmer of disappointment.
"No!" you said quickly, your hand subconsciously resting on your midsection. "That's my sister, I'm their other daughter." You told him your name and briefly explained you lived in New York and were just visiting for the holidays.
"They must be real happy, havin' you home for so long," he replied, and you shrugged.
"Yeah, it's been a while since I've come home for a visit. I was feeling pretty bad about that," you said, choosing to leave out the biggest reason you were there. This stranger didn't need to be burdened with your love life drama. "Besides, they were so excited to show off the new house," you continued, waving your arm around the room.
"Took us long enough, but it finally came together," he replied with a smile.
"Oh! You must be Joel," you said, realization finally dawning on you.
"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head and stretching out his arm. "That was rude of me, don't know what I was thinkin'." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you shook his hand.
"My parents always have such wonderful things to say about you. The house is beautiful, I was blown away when I first saw it," you told him. "I especially love the little details on the cabinets."
"Thanks," he said with a soft smile, averting his gaze to look at the cabinet behind you. "I actually did that myself. It's kind of a hobby of mine. Closest to art I'll ever get, I guess."
"I don't think it's just 'close' to art, I think it is art. It's stunning," you told him, running your fingertips over the intricate floral design. "You're very talented."
"Well, thank you," he said sheepishly, rubbing his beard to hide his smile. You could see the blush creeping up his neck and you bit your lip with a grin, turning your head to try to give him a moment. Were you making him nervous? He was painfully good looking, could this guy actually be into you? Were you even interested? The break up was still so fresh and it had been so long since you've dated anyone besides Will, you hadn't even considered it yet.
"So, how long have you worked in construction?" you asked after a minute, discarding your plate on the counter to give him your full attention.
"Oh, my whole life. Me and my brother started the business when we were in our twenties. Only thing we were any good at, and luckily it pays the bills," he told you with a shrug, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "What do you-"
Joel's question was cut off by a young girl with curly brown hair in a red velvet dress bouncing up to him.
"Dad! Can Uncle Tommy take me outside so we can look at the pool?" she asked. Dad? You looked down when he pulled his hands out of his pockets, palming one of the girl's shoulders to quiet her down, and noticed the gold wedding band. Of fucking course.
"The pool? Sarah, it's freezin' out," Joel said, and she grinned.
"I'm not going in, Dad, I just wanna see," she said, rolling her eyes. She glanced over, noticing you for the first time, and smiled. "I really like your dress," she said.
"Thank you," you said, running your hand down the fabric. "I like yours, too."
"Uh, yeah, that's fine. Just make sure Uncle Tommy sticks with you, alright?" Joel relented, and she clapped her hands gleefully before running off again.
"She's cute, how old is she?" you asked him, looking around the room to see if Sarah had run back to a woman who could be Joel's wife.
"She's sixteen," he said, eyeing you carefully. He hadn't thought this far ahead and hoped he wasn't scaring you off.
You turned to him, startled, having guessed she was younger.
"You must have had her young," you said, the words slipping out before you could catch them. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded-"
"No, it's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I did. I'm forty."
You nodded and took a sip from your glass, letting your eyes drift away, rethinking your conversation. Maybe you misread him and he was just being friendly. There was no way he would be flirting with you at a party with his kid right there. But then he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.
"Listen, I hope I'm not bein' too forward, but are you here with anyone?"
You raised your eyebrows at him over your glass. There was no misreading that. Blinking rapidly, you tried to formulate a reply that wouldn't cause a scene. Was he seriously hitting on you with a ring on his finger? You put your glass down on the counter and opened your mouth to reply when your sister's voice interrupted you.
"Bucket! Come here, you remember Troy, right?"
You cringed, at both the nickname and the person in question, before slowly turning your body towards her and forcing a fake smile.
"Of course. How are you?" you said with a hug.
"Doing great, just got a new job with a law firm downtown," Troy said, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans and shifting his weight nervously. He began to ramble about his new job as your sister introduced herself to Joel behind you. You resisted the urge to strangle her, reminding yourself she was carrying your baby niece or nephew and that you'll have to wait until after she gave birth to kill her. She knew you couldn't stand Troy, but she probably couldn't get rid of him, either.
You stood there, draining your wine glass while he prattled on for the next twenty minutes. By the time Troy's dad walked over and ushered him away, Joel was nowhere to be found.
Probably for the best, anyway. You were getting really sick and tired of only attracting unfaithful men.
You hadn't considered how annoying it would be to have your parents hovering around you all the time, worried that you were slipping into a depression and trying to get you to join them on activities outside the house. After you felt forced to go sledding with them the day before, you decided to make yourself scarce today, which is why you found yourself at the mall in downtown Austin browsing for a Christmas gift for your future niece or nephew.
As you were looking through a storefront window, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw a text from a friend back home.
Sydney: You'll never guess who i just bumped into
You were typing out your response, chin tucked into your chest, when you felt someone knock into you. Startled, you looked up only to lock eyes with Joel the contractor.
"Oh!" you managed to stammer out. His deep brown eyes lit up and a warm smile spread across his face when he looked up and recognized you.
"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," he said. "How, uh, how are you?"
"Good," you said, nodding and clutching your phone in your hand. "You?"
"Good. Was actually just thinkin' about you," he admitted, looking down and shifting the bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. "Never got to say goodbye to you the other night."
"Yeah, it was pretty crowded. I didn't realize my parents were so popular," you joked. "Is Sarah with you?"
"No, she's in school," he replied, and you bumped the heel of your hand against your forehead, rolling your eyes. Of course she was, it's the middle of the day.
"Duh," you said quietly, finding it hard to hold his gaze without getting butterflies, so you looked away.
"So, uh, I hope this doesn't sound creepy, but I asked your sister if you were seein' anyone the other night," he began, and you felt your face instantly heat up. Why didn't Cassie warn you?? "-was wonderin' if I could get your number."
"Huh?" you asked, your eyes widening as you tried to control your breathing. You glanced down at his hand again when he looked away and saw he was definitely wearing a ring.
"Thought we could go out sometime? If you're interested?" he asked, his own nerves wreaking havoc as he shifted his weight and chewed on the inside of his cheek, praying his face wasn't as red as it felt.
"Are you serious?" you asked him, narrowing your eyes. The audacity of some men!
"'Course I'm serious," he said with a nervous smile. "Thought we hit it off the other night-"
"Joel, listen. I'm not going to say what I'm really thinking for the sake of my parents and everything you did for them, but I am not interested in dating married men," you said with a scowl. He frowned, giving you a confused look before you turned on your heel and stormed away, joining the crowd of Christmas shoppers bustling by.
He looked down at his hand, making a tight fist before swiveling his head around, trying to locate you in the crowd before he lost you.
"Hey, wait!" he called out, pushing past clusters of people as he jogged to try and keep up with you. He called out your name as he got closer. You stopped suddenly but didn't turn around, causing surprised shoppers to have to redirect at the last minute to avoid running into you.
"Hey, I'm sorry-"
"You should apologize to your wife!" you said loudly, causing a few people to turn their heads in your direction as they walked past. Joel looked around nervously.
"I'm not married," he clarified quietly. You looked down at his hand again and he flexed his fingers.
"Can we get a coffee or somethin'? And I'll explain," he begged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each second that passed as you considered your answer. "Please."
"Fine," you agreed, and his face relaxed once again.
You sat down at a coffee shop within Barnes and Noble as Joel ordered you both something to drink. As you watched him at the counter, you admired his long legs and broad shoulders underneath his brown coat and wondered what possible excuse he was going to come up with.
Oh my god, what if she died?
You rubbed your eyes, hoping you didn't just insult a widower in the middle of a crowded mall.
Joel joined you at the table and set your coffee down in front of you with a smile.
"Thank you," you said softly, fiddling with the cup and avoiding his eyes as he shrugged his coat off, revealing a navy blue V-neck sweater underneath. Your eyes drifted to the small patch of bare chest that was exposed and your stomach clenched. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, but he was staring down at his ring finger.
"I'm not married anymore, just wanna make that crystal clear," he began, still staring at his ring.
"Okay," you said slowly, waiting for him to continue. He sighed.
"We've been divorced for a few years now," he said, finally looking at you. "It was... hard. Really hard. I, uh," he scratched his beard as he struggled to find the words. "I've had a tough time lettin' go. Thought for a while we might get back together, so I didn't take it off. Then I guess I just got so used to it, I never thought... I'm sorry, I sound like a mess," he said with a sad smile.
"It's alright, I think I understand," you told him, and he looked at you with renewed optimism, encouraged to continue.
"I never took it off because I never thought 'bout askin' anyone out til now," he said. "Didn't realize how that would come across, you just took me by surprise that night and I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."
You blushed and looked down at your coffee, trying to hide your smile behind your cup, but he saw it and grinned.
"Are you still in love with her?" you asked him. You didn't want to get wrapped up in something that would end up hurting you in the end.
"No," he said firmly. "I mean, I'll always care for her. She gave me Sarah, how could I not? But I'm not in love with her anymore."
You nodded as you absorbed his words, glancing around the little coffee shop before dragging your eyes back to his. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask anything else that would make you comfortable with accepting a date from him.
"Well, thank you for being honest with me, but I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship just yet."
Joel tried to hide the disappointment in his face as he nodded in understanding. The first time in five years he asked someone out and he got shot down.
"It's not you," you clarified. "It's bad timing. I just got out of a really long term relationship. Well, I was actually engaged, and I caught him cheating," you explained with a wince, not expecting to bring this up today. "Probably why I was so sensitive about the wedding ring," you said with a half smirk. He nodded quietly and looked down at the ring on his hand, twisting the metal around with the pad of his thumb as you spoke.
"Sounds like we've both been through a tough time," he murmured, and you quietly agreed.
You sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping your coffees and trying to figure out how to end this awkward interaction without making things worse. You were going to lie about having plans so you could leave when he suddenly spoke up.
"No pressure, but, uh, what if we just went on one very casual date?" He looked at you with those soft, brown eyes and you felt your resolve crumbling. "Sounds like we could both use some practice. You're leavin' at the end of the month anyway. Could just be fun, help get us both back out there."
You paused, not expecting that. He had a good point. It's been so long since you've gone on a date with anyone, and it sounded like he was just as rusty. Besides, what else would you be doing with your time over the next three weeks?
"Okay," you agreed softly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, parting his lips slightly as he straightened up in his chair.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you said with a grin. "Why not?"
Early the next morning, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand next to your bed. With a groan, you cracked an eye open to look at the time, then reached for your phone.
"7:30? Who the hell..." you grumbled, squinting at the bright screen, your eyes widening when you saw Joel's name. You sat up in bed, fully awake now, and slid the notification over to open the text.
Joel Miller: Morning. Are you free tonight?
You grinned, flicking on your light so you could see better to respond, then you paused. Should you make him wait before replying? Would you look too desperate if you answered right away?
You shrugged, deciding to answer him. It was casual, you both knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so who cares how it looked?
You: Good morning, you're up early! And yes, what did you have in mind?
You chewed your thumb nail as you waited for his answer.
Joel Miller: This is nothing, I've been up since 5. For some reason, clients expect me to be at job sites early. How about ice skating?
You giggled and tapped out a reply.
You: I'd love to!
Joel Miller: Great - I'll pick you up at 7
Realizing you forgot to reply to Sydney the day before, you switched messages and shot her a quick answer before sliding back down under the covers to scroll on your phone.
You resisted the urge as long as you could - a whole fifteen minutes - before you typed Joel's name into Facebook. His name popped up with two mutual friends and you rolled your eyes. Of course your parents were friends with him. Clicking on his name, you scrolled down his page, tapping through photos of him and Sarah that looked out of date. He didn't seem like the type to update social media often, and his page reflected that hunch. He didn't have many pictures so it didn't take long until you scrolled all the way to the end, presumably his first photo from when he joined. It was a grainy picture of him with a huge smile and his arm slung around a woman with dark, curly hair, just like Sarah's.
She was pretty, you couldn't deny that, and you vaguely wondered why they broke up. He made it sound like he didn't want a divorce, and you figured he would have mentioned cheating since you brought it up.
You closed the app. If Joel wanted to tell you, he would.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way downstairs on the hunt for coffee. Pouring yourself a cup from the machine, you burrowed into the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as you waited for your coffee to cool down and flipped through the various streaming services your parents subscribed to.
"Hey Buck, you're up early," your dad said as he descended the stairs and headed to the coffee.
"Hey, Dad," you said, taking a sip from your mug and wincing as you burned your tongue.
"What're you up to today? You wanna come to dinner with your mom and me?"
"Actually, I have a date," you told him, bracing for the reaction.
"Whoa-ho! Been here not even a week and you got yourself a date? Don't tell me... Troy?" he asked with a big grin, sitting down at the other end of the couch.
"Ew, no!" you said, scrunching your nose. "It's, um, Joel," you said quickly, taking another sip from your mug.
"Our contractor?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah, we met at the party," you told him. "Then I ran into him at the mall."
"Ran into who at the mall?" you heard Cassie's voice from down the hall.
"When did you get here?" you asked as she rounded the corner and gazed at your coffee enviously.
"Just now. Who did you see at the mall?"
"Joel," you said, glaring at her. "Got something to tell me about that?"
"Oh, yeah," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was asking about you at the party. I made sure to let him know you were single."
"Yeah, he told me, thanks for the heads up, by the way," you said. "We're going out tonight."
"I didn't realize he was single, I just assumed he was married because he's always got Sarah around," your dad said, beginning to zone out to the movie that was on the TV.
"He's single," was all you said, picking your phone back up.
"He's cute," Cassie said, and you blushed. "I'm glad you said yes, mom and dad already love him, so he'll fit right in."
"I don't even live here. It's a casual thing, we're just hanging out," you told her.
"Yeah, okay," she said, giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes and pinched her as you passed by.
"I'm going to shower, then maybe you can help me pick out something to wear," you told her over your shoulder, walking back upstairs.
Joel arrived at your parents' house promptly at 7, just as he promised. He pulled into the driveway, checking his hair in the review mirror quickly before sliding out of his truck and making his way up the porch. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous as he glanced down a the green flannel he wore, praying he didn't miss a button or a stain. He was with his ex for so long that he could barely remember a time when he was nervous around her.
But with you, he felt the butterflies the moment he saw you at the party. You didn't notice him at first, but he saw you enter the living room and freeze in the doorway, your eyes locked on someone across the room before backing out the way you came, as if you were looking to avoid them. He couldn't catch who it was, having hardly known more than five people in the whole house, but he felt compelled to follow you. To see if you were maybe looking for a husband or boyfriend. But when he saw you alone in the kitchen, staring down at your phone, he couldn't stop himself from saying something to you.
Joel never did things like that. He always kept to himself, very quiet and reserved. He was content with his work during the day and hanging out with Sarah at night.
For the most part, he was happy. It was only at night when the loneliness crept up, when he tucked himself into his big, cold bed and tried his best to fall asleep as fast as he could, so he wouldn't lay there wishing someone who cared for him was just in the bathroom washing up.
Tommy had been encouraging him to get back out there, always offering to watch Sarah if he caught Joel looking a little too long at a waitress or a neighbor. Sarah was old enough to be on her own for a few hours, but he still asked Tommy to stop by, anyway. Maybe part of him wanted his brother to know that he was going on a date, if only so he would stop trying to set him up all the time with women he had no interest in.
Joel reached out to ring the doorbell, cringing when he noticed it was one of those camera doorbells. Paul must have installed it after the house was finished. He heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and held his breath, realizing he hadn't thought about your dad's reaction to your date.
Paul swung the door open, greeting Joel with a deep scowl as he leaned up against the doorframe.
"What's up, Joel?" he asked. Joel cleared his throat.
"Hey, Paul. I'm here to pick up your daughter," Joel replied, bracing himself. Paul just stared at him, breathing deeply as he looked Joel up and down. Joel wasn't a small man, but Paul had at least sixty pounds on him. He tended to have an intimidating look until you got to know him.
"Oh, yeah? For what?" Paul asked, clenching his jaw. Joel froze, wondering if there was a reason you didn't tell your parents about tonight, unsure what to say. Finally, Paul's face broke into a huge smile as he began to crack up, doubling over at the waist.
"I'm sorry, Joel, I had to," he wheezed, standing back up and clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Couldn't help myself. Come on in," he said, still laughing as he led Joel down the hall and towards the kitchen.
"Jesus, Paul, scared the shit outta me," Joel admitted, his heart racing as he rubbed his forehead.
"Beer?" Paul asked, and Joel shook his head.
"No thanks, I'm drivin'," he replied, and Paul raised his eyebrows with a nod.
"Good man, passed the first test," he said with a wink as he twisted open a beer for himself. "Hey, uh, in all seriousness, I just wanna talk with you before she comes down."
"Yeah, 'course," Joel replied, leaning up against the counter.
"I ain't sure what she's told you about the asshole she was with before, but he really hurt her. Now, I know it ain't got nothin' to do with you, what's in the past is in the past," he said. "But just keep that in mind, will you? I can't stand seein' my little girl hurt like that again."
Joel nodded solemnly, understanding completely.
"I ain't like that, I'll be respectful, I promise," Joel replied. "Besides, we both know she's goin' back to New York in a few weeks. We're just gettin' to know each other, is all."
"Yeah, she said the same thing to her sister earlier, but then she spent all damn day on the phone, pickin' out an outfit and gettin' herself ready," Paul said with a sigh. "I'm just sayin', be careful with her."
Joel felt a flutter in his chest and tried to hide his smile when he found out you had been thinking about him all day. He was glad he wasn't the only one.
"I hope you weren't waiting long," you told Joel as he backed out of your driveway.
"Not at all," he said with a smirk. "You're worth the wait. You look beautiful." He glanced down again at the light pink sweater with a small designer logo he was unfamiliar with in the corner.
You blushed and bit your lip, quietly thanking him and trying to hide your reaction behind your scarf, but he saw it. He always does.
Now that he knew you were looking forward to this date just as much as he was, he felt a little more confident.
"Did you have a good day?" he asked, giving you a sideways glance as he merged his truck into traffic.
"Yeah, did you?"
"It was alright," he said, slowing the truck down at a stop light. He turned to face you now. "Couldn't wait to see you, though."
You turned a darker shade of pink and he smiled, pleased to see that he could elicit that reaction from you, the same way you do to him.
"So, ice skating?" you said, trying to take the heat off of you. You looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing he made sure to take his ring off.
"Yeah," he said, pressing his foot on the gas as the light changed. "Thought you could teach me somethin'."
"Teach you? How do you know if I can even skate?" you asked teasingly.
"Just a hunch. Was I right?" he replied, his mouth turning up into a half smirk. You giggled and he felt his stomach tighten. He needed to hear that again.
"Yeah, you were right," you relented. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and slapped the steering wheel in victory, making you giggle again, and his chest filled with warmth at the sound.
"Where's Sarah tonight?" you asked him as he pulled into a parking spot at the skating rink.
"My brother's watchin' her," he replied, disappointed that you got out of the truck so quickly. He had planned on opening the door for you.
"Does she like to ice skate?" you questioned as he led you inside to the counter to rent your skates.
"Oh, of course she does. But I usually sit it out and just watch her have fun," he said, picking up your rentals and heading over to a bench.
"You should have brought her, I wouldn't have minded."
"We don't have to talk 'bout her, you know," he said quicky, and your fingers froze over your laces.
"Why wouldn't we talk about her? She's your daughter," you asked slowly, straightening back up to look at him.
"No, I know. What I mean is, I know it ain't every woman's fantasy to go out with a single dad and all the baggage that comes with that. So, if you don't wanna talk about her, I get it," he said, casting his eyes down as he focused on tying his laces. You reached out a hand and gently placed it on top of his, immediately making him freeze at your touch.
"She's part of your life, so I want to hear about her. You shouldn't think like that, Joel. It's really not a dealbreaker for most women," you assured him, gently rubbing your thumb over his knuckles, his eyes glued to your hand as he listened. "And if it is, fuck 'em."
His eyes snapped up to yours now, then a slow smile spread across his face.
"Okay," he said softly, and you smiled, pulling your hand back, leaving him wanting more.
"Besides," you said, standing up on your skates as you made your way to the rink. "You have no idea what kind of fantasies I have."
You turned to give him a wink as you effortlessly stepped out onto the ice, holding out your hands encouragingly for him to follow. It was a miracle he was able to move his legs after that comment, but he managed just because he knew he would feel your warm hands on his again.
Joel was a quick study. He was nervous at first, you could tell that he didn't want to embarrass himself, but he did surprisingly good. Especially considering how crowded the ice rink was and how fast people were skating by. After about half an hour, he was able to skate - albeit, slowly - around the rink next to you without any assistance. Part of you wondered if he pretended to need more help than he really did just so it would make you feel good.
"So, anyway, that's basically what I do for work. It's pretty boring," you said with a sigh.
"Not boring. Marketing in New York City sounds like a dream," he replied.
"Yeah, except I work on all the behind the scenes stuff. It's not really as fun as it sounds," you admitted, not missing work in the slightest since you've been back in Texas.
"Well, d'you work with some fun people, at least?"
You paused, considering his question for a moment, before shaking your head with a dry laugh.
"Not really," you said, but he still tried to help you find a reason why you would put up with it.
"You were able to take off almost a whole month, that's pretty great. Not many places'll let you do that, can't be that bad," he offered, and you scoffed.
"It's the time I saved up for the wedding I was supposed to have," you told him sadly, and he groaned.
"I'm knockin' it outta the park tonight, ain't I?" he said, rubbing his face before almost losing his balance. You giggled and he couldn't stop the huge grin that plastered itself across his face.
"It's fine, you didn't know," you said, waving him off. And for the first time, you really didn't mind talking about it. Something about him made it easier.
"What'dya say we get some hot chocolate?" Joel asked, jutting his chin towards the vendor where you first came in.
"Yeah, that sounds great," you replied. Joel turned towards the exit without looking when a teenage boy, who was speed skating around the rink trying to impress a girl, smacked right into him, sending him flying backwards on the ice.
"Joel!" you exclaimed, rushing to his side. He groaned, rubbing the back of his head.
"Hey, why don't you watch it!" you yelled angrily at the teenager, who had managed to only stumble a bit upon impact.
"Sorry, man," the kid mumbled before taking off.
"I'm gonna kick his ass," you said, about to stand up to go after him, but Joel reached up to grip your arms, holding you in place.
"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. Sweetheart. Your heart skipped a beat at the term.
"Are you sure?" you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.
"Yeah, just gimme a hand," he said, and you stood to give his arm a firm yank, allowing him to stand.
"Let's get you off the ice," you told him, ushering him carefully to the exit and finding a bench.
"Does your head hurt?" you asked, sitting down next to him. Your fingers reached up to graze the back of his head.
"No," he said breathlessly, staring at you as you continued to study him for any injury. God, you were so beautiful, he couldn't force himself to look away.
"That's good. How about your vision?" you pressed, still so focused on the fall and not seeing the way he was looking at you. But when you finally locked your eyes on his, your breath caught in your throat.
All the laughter and playful yelling surrounding you faded. You couldn't look away from his heated gaze, his deep brown eyes boring into yours so intensely, you almost forgot to blink. He brought his hand up to gently cradle the side of your face, his calloused palm meeting your soft skin. Your lips parted to accommodate your sudden need for more oxygen, and his gaze fell to your mouth.
"Joel," you whispered, and the way his name sounded coming from you was so damn sweet, it almost did him in.
"Yeah?" he whispered back, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Kiss me."
He didn't need to be told twice.
He leaned forward, eyes sliding shut and slotting his lips against yours, deeply breathing in your scent so he could remember it tomorrow. He was determined to commit every second to memory, knowing that by morning he would be aching for you, aching for this. Against his better judgement, he pressed himself into your lips harder, unsure if he will ever get to feel like this again when you inevitably came to your senses. The idea of this feeling being taken away from him spurred him on, desperate and eager for every second you were willing to give him.
Your hand came up to the back of his neck, holding him against you as his lips massaged yours tenderly. You inched closer to him on the bench so you could tuck yourself into his broad chest. He was so warm and soft and strong that it was making you dizzy. Your fingertips stroked the curls at the base of his neck as you tentatively opened your mouth just enough to suck his lower lip between yours. The quiet noise he made when you did that made your insides clench with need, and against all odds, you felt yourself falling, completely losing yourself in him and the moment.
A startling voice over the loudspeaker announcing that the rink was closing in fifteen minutes finally snapped you out of it. You both pulled back but kept your foreheads pressed together as the world around you slowly melted back into focus. His hand still cupped your face and he lifted his thumb to gently trace your swollen lips.
"I should take you home," he murmured. At first, your stomach flipped, thinking he meant his home, but you realized he wasn't that type and he meant your parents' house.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and you sat back reluctantly, breaking away. His hand dropped from your face to the hand in your lap, his thick fingers wrapping around yours for a moment as he collected himself with a deep breath.
Finally, he forced himself to stand, still clutching your hand and helping you up. You glanced down at the floor and smirked.
"We should probably take our skates off," you said, and he chuckled, breaking the tension and sitting back down, his hand reluctantly letting go of yours to undo his laces.
After you turned in your rentals, his hand quickly found yours again, unwilling or unable to let you go as he led you back to his truck, this time making sure to open the car door for you. Thanking him quietly, you jumped up into the cab and watched him round the front of the car, running a hand through his hair and sucking in deep breath.
You grinned and bit your lip as he started the truck, swinging his arm around to grip your headrest and twisting his body to back out of the spot. It took everything in you not to scoot across the seat and tuck yourself into his side.
He let his arm drop loosely on the seat in between you as he drove down the street, one hand on the steering wheel. Your fingers inched forward, sliding your palm underneath his hand, lacing your fingers together. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile and you drove in a comfortable silence, your hands intertwined the whole time, until he pulled into your driveway and cut the engine.
You sighed as you stared at the darkened house, already missing him and he wasn't even gone yet. He peered over at you, trying to think of a way to prolong the date, but aside from the obvious, which he wasn't going to do just yet, he was coming up empty.
"Lemme walk you up," he said finally, and you nodded, reaching for the handle of the door but he stopped you. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you watched him rush over to open the door, and you grinned, taking his hand so you could slide out of the seat.
You stared at the ground as he led you up the path to the porch, your heart pounding in your ears. You weren't sure what you had been expecting tonight, but it definitely wasn't this feeling. This was so much more.
"Well, thank you for tonight," you said as you reached the door, turning around to look up at him through your lashes. "I had a really good time."
"Yeah, me too," he said, his soft, brown eyes trailing over your face, locking away every little detail. Unable to resist, he stepped forward, his rough hand skimming around to the back of your neck. He tilted your face up, ducking down slightly to meet you halfway and brushed his lips gently over yours.
Your hands flew up to grip the collar of his flannel, keeping him pressed against you as you leaned against the front door. God, for someone who claimed to be rusty, he was a really good kisser. He was gentle and slow and it took your breath away both times. You knew you were getting in over your head, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was him and how badly you wanted more.
Nervously, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue against his plush lips. He responded by parting his lips and allowing your tongue to dance with his own, his mouth applying more pressure than before as the heat flared between you.
Before you could stop it, a soft moan rumbled from your throat, causing him to pull back, panting slightly as his gaze flickered between your eyes. You gazed up at him, eyes dark and desperate, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.
You weren't sure what he was searching for, but after a moment he seemed to find it because his mouth came crashing down on yours once again, this time with more yearning and desire. His tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth and in the back of your mind you realized he tasted faintly of mint and you wondered when on earth he popped a mint into his mouth but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment, each seeking something within the other that you never expected to find.
His chest ached knowing he would have to stop kissing you soon, or else he would never leave. He always considered himself a strong man, after everything he had been through, how could he not? But something about you made him realize he wasn't nearly as strong as he thought. Your lips were so soft compared to his, so sweet and perfect that it made him want to cry because in that moment, he knew he could never let you go.
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mattheo riddle headcanons - how you got together ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
WARNINGS kissing, fluff, slight violence
Mattheo Riddle × fem!Reader
• mattheo was never really interested in girls - he couldn't understand why his friends were so obsessed with crushes and stuff . . . that was until you came along
• he always hated the "they were different" trope, but you were different
• he couldn't understand it (he had never been very in-touch with his emotions, except for maybe anger) but he knew he loved you
• it started out with stolen glances - in the great hall, in the corridors, in class, in the library; everywhere he saw you, he took the opportunity to fully observe you, to take in every inch of your face and body; he had never been one for studying, but he memerized you like a notecard
• blaise was the first to notice mattheo's sudden change in behavior sometimes and immediately linked it to you; like the good friend he was, he didn't tell anyone else, but teased mattheo about it relentlessly
• blaise still encouraged him to talk to you - the only reason mattheo actually spoke to you first was in hopes that it would end blaise's incessant nagging (spoiler alert: it didn't)
• he found you in the library, scouring the bookshelves, and built up the courage to speak with you
• of course, the clumsy idiot he was, got distracted and bumped into you, the books held in your arms tumbling to the ground
• he bent down to pick them up for you, offering a sheepish apology and smile and he thought "this was it" . . . until your friend called you from one of the studying tables and he lost his chance
• he didn't talk with you for a week after that
• not until he saw you in the courtyard, talking with a one zacharias smith; it was obvious you were trying to brush off his advances; you had seemed so uncomfortable as he continued to pester you
• mattheo didn't know what had happened until he did it; zacharias was thrown onto the floor with the power of a punch and you stood, shocked
• for a moment, he thought that maybe you'd be impressed, like he was the knight in shining armor you had been vying for
• but you had only scoffed and stormed away from both boys, obviously distressed
• he felt a little angry about that . . . why hadn't you been impressed? or at least glad that he stood up to the guy?
• he was in a bad mood for a few days . . . and got detention for punching zacharias in the face, even after he had told the professor that he had been bothering you and he was only trying to defend you
• he thought that you'd never look his way - but little did he know that you started watching him; he intrigued you . . . why had slytherin's very own bad boy defended you? you didn't even know him!
• that's when you saw not the bad boy facade, but the sweetheart interior; you caught him feeding stray pets in the hallways, volunteering late at night in the library when virtually no one was bound to be there, doing little things for his friends when he thought no one noticed
• you even caught him doodling in class once, small little flowers - he was actually quite good!
• and that's how you started to fall in love with mattheo riddle, bit by bit - not a bad boy, not just some slytherin, not the dark lord's son, mattheo
• you didn't know how to approach him - given his usual uncaring facade and the gang of slytherins surrounding him all the time, you'd feel too embarrassed to talk to him
• but blaise noticed that you too had your eyes on mattheo
• one day, when mattheo had skipped class, blaise caught you after potions
• he asked if you had a crush on mattheo - of course, you were hesitant to admit it, but it was obvious enough that you had to eventually
• blaise gave you a note that he said mattheo had told him to give you - it said to meet mattheo in the astronomy tower late that night
• you did not know, however, that blaise had taken a glance at your notes, memorizing your handwriting, and went to his dorm; he did his best to copy it, and gave mattheo a similar note, stating that you had asked him to pass it on
• mattheo was doubtful, but it was definitely your handwriting
• you arrived early, a bundle of nerves - why had mattheo called you there? you wondered - what made you so special?
• you sat down on the floor and gazed at the stars
• then you heard footsteps behind you and whipped your head around to see mattheo holding a piece of parchment
• he stood awkwardly for a moment before sitting on the floor next to you, your shoulders brushing together
• "you called me here?"
• you furrowed your brows at him - "no, blaise gave me this -" you handed him in the note "- said you told him to give me this"
• mattheo poked his cheek with an irritated tounge - "bastard," he remarked, a bitter smile on his face
• you had never been so close to him before - you could see all the little, invisible freckles dotting his face and scars from his many fights
• then it suddenly came to your attention that blaise had lured both of you here under the impression that the other had asked and cursed in your head
• you both sat in silence for a while
• mattheo didn't know what to do - you would never love him the way he loved you
• that was when you said, "i know you were only trying to help when you punched zacharias - and I admit that it was quite satisfying to watch, he certainly deserved to be punched but . . . i don't think it was necessary to be so violent. you could've just threatened him and he would have weaseled back to his common room in fear of the big bad slytherin"
• mattheo barked out a laugh, especially at the last part, which you had spoken quite sarcastically - "are you trying to suggest that i'm not a big bad slytherin?"
• you told him all the things you noticed about him
• he grinned widely - "have you been spying on me?"
• you flushed - "of course not - it was just an observation"
• "multiple observations," mattheo responded teasingly
• you flushed even more, sputtering - he thought you looked adorable trying to worm your way out of this
• he felt perhaps a little more confident - maybe you did like him . . . to an extent; after all, when had anyone paid that much attention to him before? his mind started to whirl at the idea of you possibly liking him back
• he gently grabbed your chin, turning your face to meet his; he tilted his head, smiling softly
• "it's okay to admit that you like me, love."
• you felt like your entire face was on fire - "really, riddle, what nonsense are you talking?" you sounded much more nervous than confident
• mattheo suddenly got much more serious. his eyes lingered over your lips - merlin, how he had longed to kiss them
• "if you want to leave, go. i won't stop you. if you feel that, at any time, you want to stop, you can shove me away, merlin you can punch me and leave. but i want to kiss you." his face had leaned gradually closer, so that by the time he finished speaking, his lips had ghosted over your own; he glanced at you, noticing how your chest had suddenly stopped it's usual rise and fall
• you made no move to leave
• mattheo closed the distance between you, kissing you softly - he panicked for a moment, when you hadn't reciprocated but he could boil it down to shock or nerves because you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper after that first moment of hesitance
• when he returned to his dorm, a smug smile on his face, blaise knew
• blaise would force mattheo to forever admit that you two never would have gotten together were it not for him - mattheo told him no way, so they agreed to let blaise be the best man at your future wedding and blaise was content enough with that
TAGS @m00nagegaydream @rilakeila @xftyhjmnfdsdfgjn @s1ater
Please like, reblog, and leave a comment! I would really appreciate it ^^
#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo x you#blaise zabini#slytherin boys#mattheo riddle headcanons#mattheo riddle headcanon#harry potter#romance#hp#fanfiction#fanfic#my fanfiction#my writing#my fic#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]
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If You Only Knew | Aaron Hotchner
My One and Only prequel
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader
Summary: Broken hearts find each other and in the process, they mend each other.
Word count: 10.7k
Tags/warnings: season 10 Hotch <3; cheating (on reader); food and alcohol consumption; Hotch has a soft spot for reader<3; lazy case talk whoops; canon typical violence; one bed trope; smut: unprotected and dirty office sex (p in v); secret relationship; stolen glances and kisses in forbidden places!!1!
Author’s note: I don’t usually do second parts mostly because I wrap up the story in a single one shot, but while writing the first fic I had this prequel in mind because oh boy, they have HISTORY (which is why it ended up being longer than My One and Only). Both can be read as a stand alone. First fic was based on Dress by miss T. Swift, and this one is like a mash up of every Taylor’s ovulation songs (I listened to this playlist a lot while writing this) 🙂↔️ Call It What You Want x I Can See You being the main inspo. Or were the songs inspired by them???🧐 it’s just so sexy sexy. Anyway, hope you enjoy!!!!
MASTERLIST
There used to be an engagement ring on your right hand.
A bright but simple ring that from the moment it was given to you, had you hopeful about your future. That future had always been uncertain. You rarely pictured yourself more than two years ahead, to begin with—for many reasons, neither worth mentioning—but no matter how long your future was, you were sure it was going to be just as bright as your ring.
And how wrong you were…
It hadn’t been more than two months since your fiancé promised you the world when you caught him in a lie. You’d let it slip away, fidgeting your ring as a reminder that he was the one.
If you hadn’t ignored the signs, you would’ve saved yourself from getting your heart ripped out.
He cheated, and even worse, you caught him in the act, with another woman in your own bed. You stormed out leaving every door open. Zac came running behind you, yelling your name, but you didn’t stop. You ripped the engagement ring off your finger and threw it at him without looking back. That clink of the band bouncing on the pavement was so faint compared to the sound of your castle crumbling, and your prince kept yelling at you to come back.
You didn’t. You got in your car and drove off aimlessly.
You’d been driving around the city blasting music since then, and yelling the lyrics hoping you’d go numb. You didn’t, but at least you had some clarity.
You had nowhere to be. There was no home anymore, no bed to sleep on, and no arms to run to. The place you used to call home now was stained with lies and haunted by another woman.
The only place that could shelter you for the night was the BAU. At the end of the day, that was your home. You spent most of your days there with the people you worked with. People who would take a bullet for you. They were your family—Derek being the one you loved the most—but you couldn’t run to him or any of them right now. The wound was too fresh and letting them see you like this would be disappointing and just… sad. They’ve always known you as a tough and reasonable woman. How were you supposed to tell them you weren’t that smart now that your entire relationship crumbled?
You parked at your usual spot and searched for your emergency go bag in the backseat. It was always stocked with everything you needed for at least a week. You weren’t planning on staying at the BAU for an entire week, of course, but also, you never knew. Your ex was capable of lighting your house on fire just to get rid of any evidence of his betrayal so for now, that bag was all you had.
You took a deep breath and made your way inside the building. You walked through security as you always did and smiled at the night guard. It was Rick, the oldest of them all but you felt the safest when he was at the door.
“What brings you here at this hour, young lady?” Rick adjusted his ivy cap.
It was past three in the morning.
“Piled up paperwork,” you merely said.
And he didn’t question you. “Oh, sure,” he answered politely with his old, raspy voice.
You smiled at him and made your way to the elevator, pushing the number six as you always did. You kicked the bag with your knee until the doors dinged open.
Not a single soul received you.
You walked past the glass doors and reached your desk, looking up at Hotch’s office that was right across. He had a couch there that you could use as your bed for a few hours. Everyone has slept there at least once— for whatever reason—and now it was your turn. You marched up the short stairs and paused. You knew his office remained unlocked (he once said that he’d lost the key, but deep down you knew he left it open in case anyone needed somewhere to crash for the night).
You knocked, just in case, and once there was no answer, you twisted the knob. His perfume was faint in the air—soft and woody—so it was easy to assume he’d left not long ago. You closed the door behind you and walked to the couch, leaving your bag there and turning the lamp on.
The dim light triggered the memories of the moment that tore you apart hours earlier: Another woman riding your fiancé. They even dared to light up romantic candles.
Your fucking candles.
“Son of a bitch,” you muttered.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little. You wasted three years of your life and now with a cool head, you realized it was in your hands how you handled it. It could either be the best thing that's happened to you or you could let it drag you down.
Right then, you decided the first option was the only one. You stood there, both hands on your hips, your chin up and took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air until your chest swelled.
This was going to be the only night you’d let yourself mourn your relationship. No tears. Just you and a glass of scotch. It wasn’t your drink of choice but it was all Hotch kept in his office and you knew exactly where he kept the bottle (right under his espresso machine García had gotten him for his birthday a couple of years ago). You crouched down and opened the little cabinet. The bottle was almost full and you wondered if it was brand new or if he rarely drank. You shrugged it off. You poured yourself some and began pacing around his office.
You’ve been here a million times and you’d never paid much attention to all the things he had. There were quite a few awards granted by the bureau displayed on the wall behind his desk; a bunch of books, too. You ran your fingers through them as you walked from end to end. He had a picture of Jack and Haley over his desk and you looked around, searching for a picture of Beth. Your eye landed on her contagious smile, over the little table by his couch. You walked there to get a better look at the picture. She was looking at the camera and he was looking at her. You’d met her a few times and it was nice seeing Hotch in love again. After Haley, everyone thought he’d refuse to let someone in again, but when love knocks on your door there’s not much you can do.
You sighed deeply and placed your empty glass in front of the picture. The alcohol was making you sleepy so you made yourself comfortable. You went to brush your teeth, put on your pajamas and fuzzy socks, made a blanket out of your blazer, and used your folded pants as a pillow.
You rubbed your feet together. It wasn’t a cold night, but you wished you didn’t have to spend it alone.
The constant sound of a pen scraping on paper gradually woke you up.
Shit.
You meant to sleep only a few hours and have Hotch’s office as it was before he got here; pretend you’d gotten there earlier than everyone. You must’ve slept through your alarm.
You slowly squinted your eyes open and caught Hotch sitting at his desk, brows low in deep thought.
How long has he been there?
“Hotch.” You rubbed your eyes and sat upright. “Hi. Sorry, I— What time is it?”
“Eight-thirty,” he answered, never taking his eyes off the file.
So you didn’t sleep through your alarm.
“When did you get here? I didn’t hear you.”
“A few minutes ago.” He put the pen down and lifted his head to look at you. His face softened.
He didn’t seem upset about you invading his office but you still felt the need to explain yourself. “I, uh, stayed until late last night and I was too sleepy to drive and—” You realized mid-sentence how bad you were lying.
But he let you.
“It’s not a problem, you can always sleep here. As long as it’s not already taken.” He stared at you for a moment, rubbing his thumb with the rest of his fingers. You wondered how bad you looked. How bad everything seemed. “It has a foldable seat,” was all he said, gesturing at the couch. “There’s a blanket under it.”
“Oh, thanks. It wasn’t that cold.” You braced yourself.
It was cold now.
“You can sleep for another hour,” he added.
“We don’t have a case?”
“No.” He glanced at the open door and then back at you. “Not yet anyway.”
Then why was he here so early?
You smiled at him and began to gather your things anyway. “Thank you, but I still should go. I’m… invading your space.”
“Oh, please. Don’t worry about it,” he said before going back to work on his paper.
Even if he didn’t mind you sleeping there while he worked, you did. You stood up, stretched your neck a bit, and began to fold all of your clothes, putting them back in your bag.
You felt his eyes on you every once in a while and just when you grabbed the evidence of your late night—the empty glass of scotch—he asked, “Is everything alright?”
You looked at him. There was that soft look again.
“Yeah, I just…” you trailed off, fidgeting with your now invisible ring. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He didn’t have to say anything. He knew. You knew he knew just by that look he gave you. Wise. Emphatic. The ‘I’ve been there before’ look.
He opened his mouth to add something, but his phone buzzed on the table, making him tear his eyes off you. He sighed as his brows lowered.
“Now we have a case?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ll put on some work-appropriate clothes, then.” You looked down at your pajamas.
“Take your time. We’ll meet in thirty.”
The jet took off and the clouds were never-ending.
Two women had been abducted (and murdered) already in Fort Myers before you were invited to investigate. Victimology and M.O. were discussed and you barely said a thing. Your mind kept wandering off to the night before and how miserable you felt. The phantom of betrayal was still heavy on your shoulders.
Hotch sat next to you during the three-hour flight, and the only thing he said to you that wasn’t work-related was: ‘Would you like some coffee’, to which you gladly accepted. His eyes, though, kept asking if you were okay.
Minutes before the jet touched the ground, your phone caught some signal and began to buzz uncontrollably against the table. You already knew who it was so you didn’t bother to glance at the screen, you just sighed in annoyance and put your phone in your pocket. You felt Hotch’s eyes on you again and you tried your best to ignore him.
Right now, he was your boss, not your friend.
The moment the jet doors opened, the dense, humid air stuck to your skin. Everyone groaned in annoyance.
“Ugh, I hate Florida,” Emily commented.
You didn’t mind it. You needed a bit of heat and sun, hoping they’d woosh away the gray cloud over your head.
Hotch assigned everyone’s tasks for the day and partnered you up with Morgan to interview the victims’ families. Smart move. It was known that Morgan was your person inside the team, and even if he didn’t know about your heartbreak right now, he’d surely find out soon after spending the day with you. That’s what Hotch wanted. For you to have someone to talk to if you wanted.
You would’ve preferred to be out in the field instead of inside an office, that way you’d have more distractions. Right now, as you talked to one of the victim’s husbands, your only distraction was your phone. Your ex started to call you again and spam-texting you. He was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t quite focus on your job. The one that you considered was your forte—when it came to good people.
These men weren’t good people. They were exactly like your ex.
And they got on your nerves.
Morgan shot you a frown as he walked the last person out of the office, “What’s going on with you? You almost punched the guy.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.
“I would’ve if you hadn’t caught me.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m being dead serious, what’s going on with you?”
“He called his dead wife a whore, Morgan.”
“I’m not just talking about this. All morning you’ve been acting weird.”
There was his big brother attitude.
You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t not tell him. So you told him. Some of it. “Zac and I are fighting. He keeps calling but I’m not gonna answer yet. He’s gonna have to wait until I’m back.”
“What did he do?” He asked, brows shooting up with concern.
You walked to the small coffee station the sheriff had set up for the team. “We’re just fighting.” You poured yourself some coffee. You couldn’t tell him everything. He was friends with Zac—and a really good one.
“I don’t buy that,” Morgan insisted. “I know what your fights look like. This isn’t a fight over how he didn’t do the dishes.”
You hated how well he knew you. You and Zac. It was sad to think there wouldn’t be any more double dates with him and Savannah.
“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” you merely said.
Morgan let out a huff and glared at you in silence. “Alright.”
He respected you and didn’t bug you any more about it. And neither did Zac, thankfully. The messages and phone calls stopped but even then, you couldn’t get your mind off whatever he wanted to say.
The day went by painfully slowly. Not many leads were found and the unsub seemed to have gone dormant, which meant the investigation was done for the day.
Hotch, JJ, and Rossi were still finishing up a few things with the sheriff, and you decided to wait for them outside, sitting on the sidewalk. There was a dinner reservation at the hotel at nine. It was thirteen past nine and you’d been running on five cups of coffee.
Your stomach rumbled.
Steps came from behind. Morgan silently sat next to you and handed you a protein bar. He sat close, his arm touching yours. “Zac called me.”
“Good for him.” You didn’t bother to look at him. Instead, you began to pick your nails. You weren’t hungry anymore.
“And he told me.” Derek placed one hand over yours, stopping you from destroying your nails.
You shot him a look. “What did he tell you?” You asked because you didn’t think Zac would rat himself out to Morgan.
“I’m on your side,” he said. “He’s my friend, but you’re my sister. He’s dead to me now.” He quirked his brows.
“What did he tell you, Morgan?”
“That you caught him cheating.”
The disappointment on his face was as clear as the night sky.
You tore your eyes off him and sighed.
“I was so stupid.” You rubbed your forehead. “I caught him in lies multiple times and I brushed them all off. Like a part of me wanted that to happen,” you confessed.
“What do you mean? That you didn’t want to marry him?”
“I… I don’t know.” You looked back at Derek. Now that the truth was out you needed to talk about it. Maybe that way you could realize it was all your fault. “I loved him, and he was a great guy but at some point, after the engagement and before the lies, I stopped seeing a future with him. So I guess it’s my fau—”
“Nuh-uh.” Derek interrupted you, placing a finger over your lips. “He did this,” then booped your nose.
You couldn't help but smile. “Yeah but I stopped being… a girlfriend to him,” you explained, moving your hands around to make your point. “I came home late, he’d wait for me with dinner but I just… stopped seeing him.” You sighed. It really was your fault to some extent now that you talked about it. “He sought the attention I stopped giving him on someone else. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want… to be the person who just works and can’t balance it with personal life.”
“It’s tough.”
“Yeah, but you seem to make it work with Savannah.” You nudged his arm.
They had the kind of love you aspired to have one day.
“It took us a while, but we made it work. Still do. It’s a good thing she also has a time-consuming job. She just gets it. But it takes a lot of effort from both parties.”
You nodded in agreement. “Zac and I are over. This isn’t something we can talk about and get through and forget or forgive. He betrayed me.”
Derek hung one arm over your shoulder and kissed your temple. “I know.”
“At least I don’t have to plan a wedding anymore. It seems exhausting.”
“Oh, believe me, it is.”
You gasped and pulled away to look at him. He had a grin on his face now. That’s what you needed. A smile from him even if it made you forget for just a moment. “What? What does that mean? Did you propose?!”
“Whoa, whoa.” Emily came from behind and joined the conversation right away, standing in front of you. “Who’s proposing?”
“Morgan,” you were quick to respond. Anything to avoid anyone else knowing you’d been cheated on.
“Shhh!” He stood up, signaling you both to shut up with a finger over his lips and looking around to make sure no one else heard. “I’m planning to, alright. Don't…. Freak out. She can say no.”
“She’d be silly to say no,” Emily laughed a little. “Are you kidding?”
“You’re already planning the wedding,” you laughed too while standing up. “Don’t pretend you expect her to say no.”
“Of course, she’s gonna say yes.” Derek grinned. “I’m just playin’.”
On the way to the hotel, the team split into two SUVs and Hotch kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror at every red light and stop sign, with that know-it-all look, a pinch of concern. He was worried about you (and soon to be pissed for the stunt you pulled earlier).
You got a triple room with Emily and JJ and you didn’t give them a chance to make any conversation with them since dinner was canceled. You threw your bag over your bed and headed to the rooftop. You figured it’d be the only place none of the team would be. You needed fresh air, and you felt ready to talk to Zac. You reached the rooftop and pulled out your phone. Just the thought of hearing his voice tightened your throat. But you had to. You needed to know what he had to say.
You dialed his number and some agonizing butterflies still managed to flap their wings at the pit of your stomach with that first ‘hey’ on the other line. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your only witness was the moon hanging above and she wouldn’t judge you, so you finally allowed yourself to feel it.
His voice was a stab to your heart and a soft sob got caged in your throat. He said he was sorry, that he missed you, that he loved you. That you will always be the love of his life and that he knew he’d lost you. You muffled your sobs against your hand and once he was done talking, all you could reply was ‘okay’.
Then you hung up.
“Damn it.” You let your phone slip through your fingers to cover your eyes with one hand while you braced yourself with the other arm.
You stood there—for who knows how long—until a pair of unfamiliar arms enveloped you from the front. Their scent, though, was like home—faint and woody bathing you whole. You nestled against their chest and it only made you cry even more.
“Shh. It’s okay.”
Hotch’s voice snapped the knife out of your chest and he wasn’t about to let you bleed out. With one hand he caressed the back of your head, giving you soft scratches. The other rubbed your upper back with short and tender strokes. You weren’t planning on crumbling and you surely didn’t expect Hotch to be the one comforting you, but it felt right. You needed a hug and a gentle voice telling you it was okay to feel like this.
Your entire relationship flashed before your eyes. You were mourning its death, after all., and there was no going back from it. You wouldn’t do that to yourself and had to accept that his laugh would eventually fade away from your memory and his eyes would no longer shine because of you—they haven’t for a while.
You peeled yourself from Hotch’s chest and noticed how his shirt was damp with your tears.
“Sorry, I—” you sniffed; looked up at him.
His soft eyes scanned your face for a moment. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ they asked, a sweet frown taking over his face.
“You look like you need a drink,” he said instead.
You chuckled, nodding, even when the after-crying headache was creeping up on you. You would’ve taken the elevator to the first floor, but Hotch guided you through the staircase.
“Were you up there when I got there?” you asked him.
“No, I went there to clear my head and… found you standing there.”
After all these years working with him, he was still the hardest to read. “Is something bugging you?” you asked him.
“No.”
Okay, then. You understood it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about (with you).
You reached the first floor and headed to the bar. It wasn’t crowded, and Rossi was already there. You two joined him, each at either side of him.
“Ah, FBI agents,” Rossi told the bartender, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re not gonna interrogate me, are you?” he then asked you two.
“I don’t know. Should we?” Hotch asked with a tint of humor.
“You should interrogate her.” He gestured at you by twitching his mouth in your direction. “I heard she almost punched one of the victim’s husbands.”
“Thanks, Rossi.” You glared at him, and he couldn’t have cared less.
“Is that true?” Hotch asked you, leaning a bit forward to glance at you over Rossi, even when the wall in front of you was a whole mirror.
“Goodnight, kid.” Rossi slid off his stool. “Night Hotch. Keep an eye on her.”
“Great.” You glared at him again. “Just throw the grenade and run away.” He just laughed and waved a dismissive hand. He had clearly had quite a few drinks so you couldn’t blame him much.
“Is that true?” Hotch asked again.
“He was a jerk,” you responded, sipping on your drink.
“That has nothing to do with it. Jerk or not, you can’t be acting like that.” His frown grew strong but his voice remained as soft as when he was comforting you moments earlier.
“He cheated on her, Hotch.” You shot him a look through the mirror. “That’s why she went out and got abducted. Murdered.”
“I understand that, but we push our feelings aside, you know that.”
“I know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Just… let it go, please. You know I won’t do it again.”
“Of course you won’t.” He took a short sip of his drink and looked forward, making eye contact with you through the mirror. “You’d be off the case if you pull something like that again.”
A light bulb lit up over your head right then.
“Do you think that’s why the unsub is targeting the victims?” You grabbed his forearm with excitement. “Because they got cheated on?”
You were right and your tragedy helped save the last woman the unsub had abducted. You wrapped up the case with a bittersweet taste.
On the flight home, Morgan sat next to you, and for some reason, you wished Hotch had sat there.
You searched for him on the jet and he’d chosen to sit farther back. You wanted to thank him for comforting you when he didn’t have to, and as if he’d read your mind—
Good job today—He texted—I know this was a particularly difficult case for you.
You lifted your head and caught him looking at you. You smiled at him as a response.
It was difficult, but it also helped you heal a little.
Morgan nudged your arm gently, gesturing for you to take your headphones off.
“Hm?” you raised your brows.
“Are you planning on going home now?”
You sighed. “I have to.”
“You can stay with me for a few days. Savannah would be thrilled to have you over.”
“Thank you but I think that’d make me feel… small? I have to see him eventually. And I’d rather get it over with soon.” You smiled at him. “After that conversation, though, I’m not sure if I’ll have a place to stay so I’ll let you know if I need a place to crash for the night.”
“I’ll be there, then.”
When you made it to your place, Zac was waiting for you with dinner. You would’ve laughed, but you were too exhausted to even smile at him.
“I’m just here to get my things,” you said, walking past him to your room.
You smelled fresh paint on your way there, and you really laughed then. He’d repainted the whole thing. Did he think changing the wall color would make you forget what happened there?
“It’s your favorite color.” Zac stood at the door.
“You’re unbelievable.” You scoffed.
You threw all your belongings in two suitcases and left.
To never come back.
“You’re getting discharged.” Hotch drew open the curtain of your cubicle.
“What? What about Morgan?” You sat upright, keeping the ice close to the bump on your head. You’d been in a car crash in the middle of a prosecution. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He just dislocated his shoulder.”
“Well, the doctor said I can’t fly, let alone drive.” You rolled your eyes. “So who’s driving me back to Quantico?”
“I am.” You couldn’t help but let out a huff. “Yeah, I’m not excited about it either.”
“It’s seventeen hours, Hotch. You don’t have to. I’m sure I can take an overnight bus or something.”
“You’re not taking any bus. You got a brain bleed. Someone’s gotta be there if something happens.” He glared at you. “Gather your things. I’ll bring the car. A nurse will walk you out.”
Your things were only your badge and gun. Everything else was still at the hotel, so you assumed you were going to make a stop there before hitting the road back to Quantico.
You were officially discharged by your doctor minutes later and you’d underestimated Hotch’s efficiency. He’d already gone to the hotel to get your things. He even bought snacks—your favorite snacks.
You reclined your seat and threw a blanket over you. Your head was much better but it still hurt despite you being high on painkillers.
“Are you cold? Do you want me to turn the heater on?”
“Not cold.” You assured him. You just wanted to make yourself cozy. “Hotch, I don’t know if I’m gonna handle a seventeen-hour drive.”
“I know.” He gave you a quick glance. “I don’t think I will either. We’ll make a stop if you need to. Just let me know.”
You dozed off and on during the first two hours—your eyes darting to Hotch’s firm hands on the steering wheel—until it started raining. Normally, you would’ve been on high alert since you weren’t a fan of driving when it rained, but it was Hotch who was driving. And he was a great driver.
The sound of the thick drops hitting the windshield turned out to be a perfect lullaby and helped you fall into a deep and cozy slumber. A dream began to take over your mind at some point but it didn’t become one entirely.
Loud noises dragged you out of it.
You blinked your eyes open. You were parked on the side road, and the rain wasn’t normal rain anymore. It was loud, hitting the rooftop like daggers. You feared it might fall through.
“Are those hailstones?” You adjusted the seat back straight.
“Not yet,” Hotch responded. “But we can’t keep driving like this. I can barely see past the hood. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m no weather expert but I’m sure there’s a storm coming.”
Hotch nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to make an emergency stop.” He pulled out his phone and typed something. “There’s a motel 3 miles away. We can spend a few hours there until the storm passes.”
“You just said it’s dangerous to keep driving.”
“It’s more dangerous to stay here or on the side of the road. Plus you need to rest. It’s been a long drive already.”
Long? You glanced at the clock on the radio.
“It’s been six hours already?!” Your eyes widened.
It didn’t feel like it, though.
“You snored half of it.” He teased, his soft dimples making their first appearance of the night.
“I did not,” you laughed a little.
You knew he was just kidding, but you clearly needed those hours of deep sleep. Your headache was much better now.
Hotch kept the blinkers on as he started driving again, slowly until the map on his phone signaled him to turn right.
There was a blue-light vacancy sign glitching.
“This is it?” you asked. The place looked straight out of a horror film and the dark sky didn’t help.
“You stay here,” Hotch ordered. “I’ll check if they have any rooms.”
You didn’t disagree and locked the doors once he stepped out. Just in case.
Minutes later, your phone buzzed.
There’s only one room available, Hotch texted you.
Two beds? you texted back right away.
King, he replied.
Great. It was either sharing a bed with Hotch or staying in the car.
I don’t mind if you don’t, you texted. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Then you added, we’ll only be here a few hours until the rain stops, right?
Yes. Don’t move. I’ll come get you, he replied.
You gathered your things within reach, as gently as possible so your brain wouldn’t get all scrambled by sudden movements and unlocked the doors for Hotch.
He opened the door and ducked his head inside. “It’s the farthest room,” he raised his voice over the loud rain.
“That’s fine,” you matched his tone. “Let’s make one trip. I can carry my things.”
“You sure?” he frowned in an attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You nodded and stepped out of the car.
Once you had your things and Hotch had his, he took the lead with you walking fast behind him with your head low. You both were already drenched so there was no point in running.
The room was better than what you expected. It welcomed you with warm air, one bed, a small desk facing the window, an old TV, and a bathroom. They even had a small station with a kettle and tea/coffee, and the heater was on
You stripped out some of your clothes right next to the heater and changed your muddy shoes for your slippers.
“Do you mind if I take the bathroom first?” You asked him.
“Not at all,” Hotch replied, ridding himself of some damp clothes.
You walked past him with your bag and locked yourself in the bathroom. You unlocked it right away. What if you passed out? It was going to be a quick shower to regulate your body temperature, but with a brain injury, you never knew.
You were in and out of it in less than ten minutes and Hotch had already changed his clothes to sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It was always so strange seeing him out of his suits.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, hanging his clothes on the improvised drying rack he made out of the single chair and desk and placing it close to the heater.
“A little.” You sat on the left side of the bed.
Hotch grabbed the snack bag and displayed what he’d bought over the bed. Along with your favorite snacks were some fruits and two instant noodle soups. The first time you pulled out one of those, Reid told you all about them and how they were some of the most cancerous foods there could be, but they were a guilty pleasure and you didn’t eat them often.
“Take your pick,” he said. “I’ll take a shower now.”
He was being a good caretaker to you and you trusted him so all you had to do today and tomorrow was obey him. You could shut your brain down when Hotch was around.
You turned the TV on to have some background noise and put on the news. The weather had been catastrophic already in some parts and they said it was going to last at least eight more hours. It was 8 pm so you didn’t mind waiting all night for it to pass. It was a cozy room, after all.
You prepared yourself the instant soup and sat cross-legged on the bed. Your phone buzzed against the mattress.
How’s your head? Morgan texted.
Better. Your shoulder?
I have a good doctor at home so I’ll be alright. How’s the trip going?
The sky is falling here. We had to make a stop for the night.
Sharing a room with the boss? ;)
You didn’t know why he would say that or why you would lie about your answer, but you lied.
Of course not! We’re gonna wait for the rain to pass before hitting the road again.
You hit send right when Hotch came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.
You put the phone down. “There’s still hot water in the kettle.”
You rarely saw him eat, and since all he bought were things you liked, you assumed he liked them too. He prepared his soup as well and sat on the other side of the bed.
“It looks pretty bad.” He glanced at the TV.
“They said it’s gonna last all night.”
Something was odd about him now. Maybe it was the fatigue of the trip that hit him after the shower. But he kept looking at his phone and putting it down. You saw him clench his jaw more than once.
“Everything okay?” You had to ask.
He gave you a look.
Everything was not okay.
He hesitated a moment, twisting the noodles with his fork but never taking a bite.
“Beth got a job offer in Hong Kong.” Oh. “And she’s boarding the flight now.” Oh, no. “She asked my opinion before taking the job offer.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, I encouraged her to take it. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
You didn’t want him to regret his choice about encouraging her—she put him between a rock and a hard place—but you had a string of questions about it. What if she asked for his opinion because she wanted to stay and settle, but needed him to say it?
“So you let her go,” you said instead and he nodded. “How’s Jack handling it?”
“She talked to him, we took him to Orlando for the weekend and he understood it but”—he sighed—“I know it’s been hard on him, too.” You couldn’t imagine how his son was feeling. He was a kid and he’d lost someone, too. “But we ended it on good terms.” He raised his brows.
“Why did you offer to drive me home?” You asked. “You could be there with her by now. At the airport.”
“We said our goodbyes.” He shook his head and looked down. “It would’ve made it more painful.”
You hummed in agreement. “They say if you love someone, you let them go. If they come back, it means they’re truly yours.” He looked at you. “She could come back.”
His eyes were glassy. For some reason, you felt he was thinking about Haley, too. He was once again losing someone he loved—by choice this time but losing her nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he sort of laughed. “I’m talking about my heartbreak when…”
When you were recently heartbroken too.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m—”
“Fine,” he finished your sentence. “Of course you are.”
“I’m over it and I laugh about it now. I wasted three years of my life. My good years.” You chucked. “It's funny now.”
“It’s not. And you still have a few more good years ahead of you?” He commented, confused.
You talked as if your youth was already over but you had a good reason. “Yeah, but I’m not gonna be as hot as I was when I met him.” He smirked. “He went for a younger woman.” You then added.
“Younger?” He raised his brows.
“I know. I think that’s why I feel old. But she was a 25-year-old trainee.”
“That’s not much younger than you.”
“You flatter me.” You let out a small laugh. “I just… Why do men always go for the younger woman?”
He took a subtle deep breath. “I—“
“Generally speaking,” you added. “Men who cheat go for a younger woman.”
“I don’t know but I’m sure Reid can give you all the statistics about it.”
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I don’t wanna hear them.”
You let out a yawn, and soon Hotch did too. You two agreed in silence it was time for bed already.
“It’s not cold in here so I’ll sleep over the bed covers,” he commented.
“Hotch, you don’t have to. I don’t mind, honestly. I’ve shared beds with most of our team.”
“Alright,” he let out a small laugh, raising his brows.
The rain stopped around 5 am and within thirty minutes you both were up and ready to hit the road again. There were ten hours ahead of you and this time you didn’t feel the need to sleep through it. You slept like a baby last night and also, talking to Hotch was really nice, and he seemed well-rested too.
You stopped for a quick breakfast two hours in and had it in the car to optimize time. Throughout the drive, there were talks about the landscapes and weather and he’d throw in some random stories about his brother, or Haley and Jack when something reminded him of them.
Your favorite was how he and Jack had a tradition whenever it rained: chocolate chip cookies. And how Jack had already decided that he was going to do the same with his kids one day.
And the more the clock ticked, the more you wished he’d slow down his speed (even when he was going just below the limit). You didn’t want the trip to end, but it had to eventually.
Around 3 pm. Hotch was dropping you off at your place.
“It’s a nice neighborhood,” he commented. Only Derek had had the chance to visit your new place.
“It is. It’s mostly old people that live here so it’s very quiet all the time.” You smiled. Silence filled the air for a moment. You missed him already. “Hey, I know we’re both exhausted but… would you like to come in? We can make some decent lunch.”
Hotch took a subtle deep breath. “I would. I’d love to but… Jack’s waiting for me. I was supposed to arrive yesterday and he was excited to see me. I… I’m picking him up at school after this.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” You gulped. Stupid.
Why did you feel nervous around him all of a sudden?
“Maybe some other time?” He asked.
Your stomach fluttered.
“Definitely.”
Spencer was turning 33, and Penelope thought throwing him a surprise birthday party was a good idea. She asked everyone to show up earlier than usual to decorate a conference room. You were the first one to show, then one by one everyone arrived.
The only one you wanted to see walking through the door, though, wasn’t the birthday boy. It was Hotch.
After the gloomy night at the motel, Hotch became a permanent thought. You didn’t know if it was because he took such good care of you, or because he trusted you to tell you a personal thing—or both—but since that night, something changed.
You’d always admired him, but this was more than that. Your cheeks grew warm whenever he looked at you. You started to feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. And you felt ridiculous. He was your boss, he’d been your boss for five years so why had your feelings changed?
The truth was, you’d always had certain feelings for him. Nothing ever happened before because you met him as a divorced man, who only had time for his kid and his job, so at the time, besides your boss, he was a nice face to look at (a very nice face). Then Haley's death came and he shut himself down, drowning himself in work. You started dating Zac soon after, then you didn’t have eyes for Hotch anymore. He became who he was: your boss.
Now, that both were single, your true feelings for him were coming afloat. Of course, you didn’t let them show; how your stomach fluttered at his sudden presence and constant glances. You insisted those were in your head, that he’d always looked at you the same amount or the same way, but when the attraction is reciprocated, there’s a spark.
That spark almost lit up a fire in your chest when he finally showed up. The lights were off, but you’d recognize his silhouette anywhere, and he was walking up to you.
“Hey,” he whispered, standing next to you.
“You’re late,” you whispered back.
“Is Reid here?”
“No, but we did all the work.”
“I’m… the boss for a reason.”
You held back a laugh. Thank god it was dark.
“Shhh, there he comes!” Penelope whispered loudly.
Everyone moved to their assigned spot and your hand accidentally brushed his in the process. “Sorry.”
It’s okay, he whispered.
That accidental touch was the first of many not-so-accidental.
You tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, but he looked at you, paid attention, listened to every word you had to say. He saw right through you.
There weren’t many moments outside work, though, and that confused you even more. You couldn't ask him to see each other casually. It wasn’t something you or he did, and it made you wonder. You wondered. Always. Every day. Every hour. Every time you looked at him you wondered what was going through his mind.
Weeks went by where unspoken words were said. Your feet itched to go to his office every time you knew he was going to stay until late. To offer him some coffee, or ask him if he needed help with something but all you always ever did was turn in your reports and linger there for a second or two, hoping he’d ask you to stay.
And tonight was no exception. You had your excuse to stay late this time, though. A doctor's appointment forced you to clock in late, and for that, you had to stay to meet your weekly worked hours.
Everyone had left, even the janitors.
Everyone except for Hotch, of course.
You glanced at your watch when you finally finished your last report. It wasn’t even an appropriate time to have dinner. You were dreaming of your bathtub and a glass of wine with some cheese.
You stacked your folders and adjusted your skirt before going to Hotch's office to hand them in. You knocked three times and waited for his Come in! to enter the room.
You walked in and he wasn’t at his desk as he usually was. He was on his couch, with only the lamp lights on; he’d removed his jacket and had his sleeves rolled up right below his elbows.
“Hey, I… I finished my reports.”
He looked at you—stared. You swore a faint smile was curling the corner of his lips. “Toss them on my desk.”
You slowly walked in and did as he said. “Are you… leaving soon?” you clasped your hands behind you.
“I don’t think so.”
“Is there… something I can help you with?” You gestured at the folder he was holding.
He paused for a second before replying, “Yes, actually.” He scooted to give you space on the couch. “Close the door.”
You did as he said and sat next to him, but not quite close. He put the folder on the coffee table and spread all the documents, filling in every gap.
“Choose,” he said.
You laughed. “What?”
“Our next case.”
“Oh, I’m not… I don’t think I’m qualified to do that, am I?”
“There’s a reason I’m asking you to choose.” He raised his brows to make his point.
Your eyes flickered between pictures and reports. Neither was worse than the other. “Well, it’s not like I can choose, right? You have to… study each one of these murders to decide which one has more priority. Which is… a bit twisted. As if one is less important than the other.”
“It’s hard.”
“And you do it every time.”
Hotch nodded. “JJ used to do it when she was the liaison. Now she still does when I can’t or ask her to since she has the right criteria, but it’s on me now.” He raised his brows as he spoke.
Your eyes were stuck on his lips, a sudden urge to kiss him brewing in your chest.
“I don’t know how you do your job without breaking down sometimes,” you said. He smiled, scanning your face up and down. God, you really wanted to kiss him. “I mean your unit chief job.” You tore your eyes off him and adjusted yourself a bit farther on the couch. You had the perfect view of the side of his head.
Hotch leaned forward resting his elbows over his knees and lowered his head. “It’s… the one thing I’m good at.”
“Not the only thing,” you let out a breathy laugh. He turned to you, raising his brows as if he were waiting for you to mention another thing he was good at. “You’re a great dad, Hotch,” you said without hesitation.
“I,” he licked his lips. “I could be better.”
“We all could be better at everything, doesn’t mean we’re bad at it.”
Hotch sighed. “You’re right.”
“You’re also… good at sports?”
“Stop.” He chuckled, lowering his head once again.
You rubbed his back by impulse, and you withdrew it right away as you felt him tense up. Your hand tingled at that brief contact and it burnt when he reached for it and enveloped it with his large hand. Your heart rate skyrocketed and all you could hear was your pulse in your ears (not that any of you was saying anything anymore).
He turned his head to you, adjusting farther back so his back would rest on the couch. Your shoulders touched now, and his hand was still on yours and this time, his thumb caressed your knuckles, and his eyes were stuck on your face.
The urge to kiss him was flush against your skin.
“You should go home,” he said, swallowing thickly. “It’s late.”
“Yeah,” you licked your lips. “I really should.”
He let go of your hand and with the same one, you caressed the side of his head where a few satly strands of hair were gloriously shining. You put the short pieces behind his ear and cradled his face. You held your breath. What the hell were you doing?
A pained frown took over his face and he shut his eyes for a second. You wanted to kiss the frown away so you leaned, kissing his cheek. He tilted his face until the tip of your nose was touching his.
His shaky breath ghosted your lips.
Would a kiss on the lips be so bad?
You were closing the gap before you thought about the answer. Your lips touched—a soft peck—and there was barely a sound when you pulled away.
“I’m sorry I”— You placed your fingers over your lips right away.
Hotch wasn’t giving you any signs of anything at all and panic began to take over you.
God, what have you done?
Your name came out of his mouth in a whisper filled with longing. He was leaning closer. He studied your face from up close as he paused. His nostrils flared and he licked his bottom lip before going for a kiss. Just as tender as yours.
At first.
One of his hands found a spot on the side of your thigh while the other went to the back of your neck, bringing you closer and allowing the kiss to intensify. His chin scraped yours with his barely noticeable beard and his lips were gentle despite his sudden urge.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for this—him kissing you back or reciprocating any sign of affection. But he was, and he was getting so into it his tongue was already teasing yours.
A small moan escaped you when he opened his mouth a bit more. Your breathing quickened with each kiss and when your tongues finally tangled together, you lost it.
“C’mere.” He murmured against your lips.
You hopped on his lap and gave yourself in. You wrapped your arms around his neck tight and pressed your hips down. It became sloppy with each kiss already and only heavy breathing filled the room. His heavy breathing.
He was so needy for you.
This wasn’t how you expected your night to go, but you were ecstatic. No matter how far this went, it already was much better than your bathtub.
You let go of his lips for a second. You needed to catch some air.
“Aaron.”
You’d never called him by his first name. Never, and right then you wished you’d done it sooner. It seemed to have awakened something in him. He groaned into another kiss and grabbed your hips tightly, encouraging you to move them.
He liked it. He loved it.
You obeyed, grinding him and going back for another kiss. His hands were still shy, hesitantly resting at the curves of your hips. You pressed your hips down. His hard bulge was right there. You couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip, cupping his face harshly with both hands as if he could go anywhere. He was a prisoner of your body; you had him caged with your legs and arms and he didn’t seem to mind at all.
His hands raked down your curves, lower on either side of your hips and slowly traveled down, cupping your ass and guiding you back and forth.
Hotch’s lap was heaven on earth.
You moaned into a wetter kiss, tongues gliding together. You were embarrassingly loud now. He smiled against your lips.
“Sorry.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, pressing your foreheads together.
His chest was heaving in and out as he tried to regulate his breathing. His hands went up to your lower back and he pulled you close into a tight and tender hug.
A sudden clarity hit you. This shouldn’t have happened. He was your boss for fucks sake. You were sure, that once you came out of his office, you would lose your job. The one you fought so hard for.
“I… I have to go.” You slid off his lap and stood in front of him, adjusting your skirt.
He was staring up at you through his dark lashes and you couldn’t look at him without feeling embarrassed. You wiped your lips clean and took a few steps back.
“I am so sorry this—” You took a few more steps backward on your way to the door and turned all the way, giving him your back.
Hotch stood up, his broad silhouette taking a few steps towards you. He said your name with his deep, deep, oh-so-deep voice as your hand touched the knob. He was right behind you now, his torso glued to your back and his arms wrapped around your waist.
You shut your eyes as he inhaled your hair.
You locked the door.
“Are you sure?” he murmured next to your ear.
All you could do was nod.
He flipped you around by your hips, capturing your mouth, body, and soul. This time he groaned like an animal, hungry for you. God, he was desperate and your entire body fluttered. Your knees when weak right when he scooped you by your thighs and walked with you towards his desk, plopping you there while knocking everything down with one hand.
No words were necessary. His hands talked for him and the kiss was never-ending. You were a fucking mess already. You were at his will, so open to let him do anything he wanted with you.
To you.
The air was getting hotter and the layers of clothes began to bother you. His body heat and breath were to blame. He was everywhere.
He sneaked one hand in between your legs and gripped your inner thigh, his thick fingers sinking into your flesh. You squirmed over the wood, encouraging him to go a little higher. He did, the tip of his fingers ghosting your panties. They were damp with your arousal already (you’d felt it leak through you when you were kissing on the couch), and by the way he smiled, he could feel it. He lifted your skirt up to your waist and pressed himself onto you, his erection finding your cunt like a magnet. He cursed under his breath, looking down at where your bodies touched the most. But not quite.
You wanted to touch him, feel how hard he was. You palmed his thick bulge and gulped. Your mouth went dry as you began to massage the outline of his erection while making eye contact, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered.
There were so many clothes in the way, making it hard to focus but then he grabbed your jaw and looked into your eyes and whatever was about to come, was the best thing that would ever happen to you.
He sneaked his fingers from the side of your panties, the wet sound of your arousal against his fingers was embarrassing. But it made him drop his head to your shoulder. He cursed again and began to massage you, spreading your arousal all over with his thick fingers. Your cunt clenched, desperate to have him inside you. You cursed under your breath with pleasure as his fingers found your wet entrance. He made circular motions without entering, teasing you.
He was driving you insane, too.
“Hotch,” you murmured, I need you, you wanted to say, but he shushed you. Gently. Tenderly. Shushed you with an open-mouth kiss.
You whimpered against his mouth and with clumsy hands, undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, sneaking your hand inside to touch his length. Finally. You whined again at that first touch. His skin was burning.
“Would you fuck me?” you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his length. They barely covered him.
“Of course, sweetheart. Just give me a minute. Let me feel you.”
He moved his fingers up and down between your wet folds, feeling you as he’d said. He knew exactly what he was doing, he was skilled, gentle and put the perfect amount of pressure.
But you were growing desperate.
“Please, Hotch.”
He didn’t give you any warning and in one fell swoop, he had his length out. Fuck. His cock stood on its own—thick and long—so close to your cunt. The tip glistened with his arousal.
“Scoot to the edge,” he ordered.
You did as he said and he lined himself at your entrance and barely pushed the head inside. You both let out a quiet moan at the same time.
God, it felt good. He felt good. You both looked down and watched as he slowly entered, inch by inch until he was all the way inside. He looked at you then and you lost it.
Aaron Hotchner was fucking you. Aaron Hotchner, whom you admired and respected. Aaron Hotchner, the man who has been messing with your head these past few months.
This was an eye-opening experience. Paradise on earth. How have you gone so many years without him? New feelings were brewing in your chest with each thrust, each stare, and each kiss.
You gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer as he began to move, rocking his hips back and forth. You’d milked his dark and thick curls with your arousal already, making each slam sticky to your skin.
His cock was exquisite, spreading you open and reaching every right spot.
“You feel so good, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You couldn’t resist.
He kept fucking you until your butt went numb, you needed to finish but you didn’t want this to end. Ever
You showed your discomfort by adjusting over the desk.
Bend over, he whispered on your lips.
He kissed you one last time before you hopped off the desk and obeyed, bending over his desk and glancing at him over your shoulder, ready to take him. He squeezed your ass with both hands and lined himself again. He teased you, pulling it out and moving it up and down. You let out a needy hum, wiggling your ass, begging for his cock.
He entered again and this time, he was ruthless. He slammed into you, hard. Then again. And again. Over and over until the only sound in the room was the clash of skin against skin. You had to muffle your moans—and smile—by biting your forearm.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. God, Aaron Hotchener fucked good. So good you were seeing stars already and so close to grazing the sky.
He bent down too for a moment just to bring you up close into a hug. “Come here.” You already knew he liked having you close.
He sneaked one hand from the front and massaged your clit as his thrust became sloppy. You threw your head back to his shoulder, and he captured the underside of your chin between his teeth.
This was it. The beginning of an addiction you never wanted to rid yourself of.
There were a few more slams before he came. Hard. He was a vocal man. Grunting and groaning and cursing quietly as his cock twitched inside you.
Your legs were shaking, and if it wasn’t because he was holding you, you were sure you would’ve fallen to your knees. And he didn’t let go of you for a moment, his cock still inside you.
You needed to know what he was thinking, see his face.
You took a sharp breath to speak, but he slipped his cock out and you gasped. His cum dripped down.
“Sorry,” he murmured and was quick to clean you with a tissue.
You finally turned around and caught a look on his face you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t disappointment. But it wasn’t a positive thing.
“This“—he began, buttoning his pants—“changes everything.” He glared at you.
You adjusted your skirt and pressed your lips together. “I know.”
“And it can’t happen ever again.” Your heart dropped to your stomach for a second as he added, “Not here.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lip
You pressed your lips together, hiding a smile.
“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.” You walked up to him, placing your palm flat over his chest. His heart was still racing. “Not here.”
You kissed him, and he kissed you back.
“Should we, uh, leave together?” you asked, licking your lips.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “You can leave first.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“See you tomorrow.” He nodded and stole another kiss before you left.
You walked out of the building so put together as if nothing had happened, and kept a straight face until you were inside your car.
“Holy fuck,” you laughed; squealed, almost.
That really happened. You covered your face with both hands trying to come back to earth.
You decided to drive off before Hotch appeared in the parking lot, or else you wouldn’t resist taking him right there all over again. You replayed what had happened in your head the entire drive and as soon as you made it home, he texted you.
I hope you know this isn’t something casual or unimportant to me.
You smiled. You loved that he couldn’t hide his professionalism when texting.
I know, you texted back, for me either. Believe me
Good, he replied.
Goodnight, Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Tomorrow came and from the moment you laid eyes on each other, you agreed: no one could know about it.
He explained to you, when no one was around, how relationships within the bureau had a reputation. It would’ve been different if he was at the same level as you, but since he was your superior, it wouldn’t be well seen.
So this being a secret was more for him than for you, but you didn’t mind. It was such a rush. The whole forbidden thing did something to you, which caused you to be horny at work more than once.
But he made up for it when you saw each other at his place or yours.
There, it was different. You allowed yourself to be softer and he didn’t hold back any kiss or touch. His affection confused you, though, since the talk hadn’t come up yet. The ‘what are we?’ talk, and you didn’t want to be the girl who asked that after the second date.
There was sex—lots of it—, there were dinners, movie nights, and everything couples did, so it made sense if you asked, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to spoil the magic.
Because it was magical, your lives took an awful turn when you got your hearts broken and you both were right at the curve to meet each other. He’d been there, in front of you this whole time and a fragment of you glued back together every time he stared into your eyes while nothing was said. While he caressed your face and kissed you just because he wanted to. He managed to heal you between the lines, with subtle words that’d get stuck at the back of your mind.
And the more you two met outside work—whether it was at his place or yours, his bed, or a fancy hotel room—your feelings for him intensified.
They were worse on nights like these, when you found yourself tangled between sheets with him after sex, talking about anything and everything.
He often had an expression of everlasting love.
At least, you liked to think that way.
“What are you thinking?” He asked you with that glimmer in his eyes.
You sucked in a breath and brushed the front pieces of his hair with your fingers. “Did you get Morgan’s wedding invitation?”
You don’t know why, but he laughed. “I did, yes.”
“I think we should bring a date.”
“Why?”
“We have a plus one and… I don’t know. I’m gonna be wearing a dress so for your sake, I should have a date. That isn’t you.”
“Oh, really?” He teased, placing a kiss on your ear.
“This is inappropriate, Agent Hotchner, I’m your subordinate.” You laughed. You were ticklish there.
“Not when you’re in my bed.” He adjusted himself on top of you, lowering to kiss you. “And don’t pretend you don’t love it.”
You laughed again.
You loved it.
Loved him.
I hope you liked it!!! I’d love to hear your thoughts about it too!🤭❤️🔥
#I’m so excited for this one pls don’t let it flop#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic
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𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬
jeong yunho x gn!reader
1.1k words, friends 2 friends who cuddle ?, one bed trope, fluff, humor, like two swear words cuz who am i without cursing, snuggling, consequences of yunho being Tall (implied that reader is shorter than yunho)
a/n: im sorry that this kinda sucks ass but yeah,, one bed trope :')
“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'm going to hate this,” Jeong Yunho swore as his head poked up into the attic space, eyes wide in horror.
When the inn owners said that the attic was hardly an attic, they unfortunately were not exaggerating. It was close to a crawl space, with just enough room for you to stand up straight, and outfitted with an extra long twin bed, nightstand and lamp, a pillow, and two large sherpa wool blankets. The bed was fitted beneath the slope of the roof because the entire space wasn't even large enough to put the bed in the middle.
You were starting to sweat, and considering there wasn't even heating up here, you raced to calm your nerves. “It'll be fine,” you said with a small, anxious laugh.
Yunho moved his terrified eyes up to you. “Respectfully? I'm gonna go sleep in the storm.”
When he moved to descend the ladder, you slid on your knees to grab hold of his wrist. “Come on, big guy. It's one night.”
“Yn, what if I said I was claustrophobic, huh?” He whined, but reluctantly followed you all the way up the ladder and into the attic. He straightened—big mistake. You heard the loud thump as his head met the roof, and grimaced. “Oooow!”
You hissed and reached over to gently rub the place that began to smart when he leaned down. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he whimpered. “Can I sleep in the lobby?”
Around ten minutes later, after many trials and tribulations and head bonks, you and Yunho somehow transferred your duffle bags up the ladder and into your glorified crawl space. They took up the space just beside the ladder and at the foot of the bed, and as you stared at said twin bed, you wondered if Yunho's legs would even fit on it.
Most likely not.
In fact, you were certain that two people couldn't even fit on the bed unless they were either on top of each other or packed together like sardines.
You reminded yourself that it was only going to be one night. This was what the two of you got for leaving five hours after everyone else, just to get caught in tonight's awful storm and stuck with the only “room” available for miles. In retrospect, it was your fault. Yunho had been generous enough in offering to stay behind with you until you finished your last exam.
“You can have the bed,” you told him as you were both crouched by your bags to grab clothes to sleep in. Despite your realization about your counterpart's long limbs and the bed's shortcomings, you wanted to extend an offer of chivalry.
Yunho twisted around and sent you an incredulous look. “What?”
“You drove us up here,” you replied with a shrug. You swiftly draped your sleep clothes over one arm and gathered your bag of toiletries in the other. “And you waited for me to finish my exam and you're kinda being dealt the short end of the stick with this room.”
He sat down on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, and though his face was still pulled into the same expression, he laughed. “Yn, I hate to break it to you, but I think you're gonna fit better on that bed than I will.”
You pursed your lips, gazing over at the narrow slot on the floor between the other sloping roof and the bed. That was the only other place someone could sleep in this room. “I don't want you to sleep on the floor though.”
“I know I was complaining, but don't worry about it,” he reassured as he turned back to dig through his duffle. He flicked his wrist blindly in your direction. “You can wash up first; I'll set everything up.”
Since he left little to no room for argument, you resolved to do as he suggested. There was a community washroom on the floor below that you made your way toward. As unfortunate as your accommodation was for the night, you were eager to head back up and go to sleep. Yours and Yunho's friends were all waiting at Seonghwa's cabin already, and perhaps it wasn't just exhaustion that made you antsy for this night to get a move on.
You and Yunho just needed to get through tonight. It would be fine.
When you returned to the attic crawl space, Yunho had everything set up as he said he would. He'd found an extra set of sheets from one of the downstairs closets and laid it on the ground by the bed, then rationed one of the blankets for himself and the other for you on the bed.
You let out a tired sigh and trudged over to the bed to grab the pillow from where it rested on the headboard. You set the pillow instead at the head of Yunho's sleeping situation, then balled up one of your jackets to use as your own pillow. Once satisfied, you climbed into bed, and you were out like a light.
Everything was hazy as you emerged from deep sleep to confused half-consciousness. The room was descended into darkness, the sounds of light rain drumming steadily against the sloped rooftop above your head. Your brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton—why had you suddenly woken up?
Then you heard it.
“Achoo.” Then another one. And another one.
Even half dead, your brain could put two and two together. You rolled over slightly to wave your arm over the side of the bed, hand flapping around until you bumped Yunho's shoulder. “Hey, Yunho.”
Another sneeze.
“Yun, get your butt up here.”
He grunted. “'m fine.”
“You're gonna get sick,” you grumbled with your face half squished against your jacket zipper. That was definitely going to leave a mark in the morning. “Come up here, for fuck's sake.”
He made another noise, perhaps of acknowledgment, before you heard sounds of movement.
You kept your eyes half-lidded to keep as much light out as possible, and rolled over again. As he crawled onto his knees, and then his feet, you opened up your blanket to him so he could join you.
“Pillow,” he slurred—you whined when it hit you in the face. “Sorry.”
In a drowsy drugged tango, you swapped your jacket out for the pillow and Yunho wormed his way onto the bed beneath your blanket. You scooted as close to the wall as you could, but even then, Yunho was pressed flush against you. His arms came around your waist, his nose wedging itself between your neck and shoulder until he was comfortable.
“Your feet are cold,” you muttered. “Get them under the blanket.”
“Too tall.”
“Show off.”
He huffed out a puff of air against your neck like a laugh, then tucked his knees up slightly to fit under the blanket. Your legs were now tangled among his, your bodies curled tightly together. In the morning, you would rationalize it out as creating body heat to prevent either of you from getting sick.
When movement stopped, you voiced into the darkness, “Better?”
A content sigh. “Better.”
Maybe this accommodation wasn't so bad after all.
ateez m.list
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet
#kflixnet#ateez x reader#jeong yunho x reader#yunho x reader#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#ateez imagines#ateez oneshot#ateez drabbles#yunho fluff#yunho oneshot#yunho scenarios#yunho drabble#yunho imagines#ateez fanfic
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Child of the storm
Note: SPOILERS, if you have not read the books. If you know the ending of the lightning thief then this will be fine but if you haven't or don’t want to be spoiled for the ending of the show do not read this. ( I’m looking out for you pookie <3)
pairing: luke castellan x Poseidon Fem!reader
warnings: Arguing, I want you but I can’t have you trope, Angst, kissing
"Hello?" Her voice came through the phone, accompanied by the crackling of static in Luke's ear.
"It's Luke," he responded, pressing his fingers into his tired eyes. Silence met his ears. "The camp is falling apart," he admitted, frustration evident in his tone. "The cabins are at each other's throats, and I'm lost on what to do."
"I know," she sighed on the other end. "Luke, I'm already being dragged into this mess by my dad. He says my brother is on a quest for the master bolt," she explained, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I didn't even know I had a brother until this morning," she added with a hiss.
Luke's stomach twisted with anger “why are you calling me” The words escaped through her gritted teeth. After a prolonged silence on the line, she finally took a breath.
"Luke, I've been covering for you for months," she admitted, frustration evident in her voice. "And now, my brother—someone I didn't even know existed—seems to be entangled in your idiocy." There was a pause, and Luke remained silent.
"They think he stole it," she seethed, frustration boiling over. "And we both know that's far from the truth." After taking a breath, Luke listened intently. Over ten months had passed since their last conversation or encounter, and he found solace in just hearing her voice. He wanted to savour every syllable that left her mouth.
"Luke," she sighed, a sense of resignation in her tone. "I can't help you. I can't keep doing this. I can't cover for you anymore. You're on your own." As she moved to end the call, panic filled Luke's voice.
"Wait! Please, just listen to me," he pleaded desperately. "NO, Luke, you listen to me. You've gone too far. I was with you from the beginning, but stealing the master bolt... Luke, I've changed, and you haven't," she declared firmly, leaving a pause.
"Meet me at the beach in Jersey," he almost whispered, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and vulnerability. "What?" she questioned, confusion in her tone. "Just do it," he snapped, frustration seeping into his tone. "Please," he added, the desperation in his voice seeping into her ears. She took a moment to consider, the static in the phone creating a deafening backdrop to their strained conversation. "Fine," she agreed, the decision made after a brief pause, and then the line went silent on Luke's end.
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Luke stands on the beach, the gritty sand slipping between his toes as he clutches his shoes in his hands. His gaze remains fixed on the expansive canvas of the ocean, its vastness both humbling and daunting. In the early evening, the ocean undergoes a captivating transformation, evolving into a symphony of rhythmic undulations.
As Luke shifts nervously on his feet, the subdued hues of the setting sun cast a gentle glow upon the water, bestowing an ethereal quality to the scene. The waves, reminiscent of graceful dancers, curl over in a serene ballet, each motion leaving a transient mark on the water's surface.
However, an undercurrent of change is visible. The ocean begins to deepen, the light blues of the day contorting into darker shades of black and navy. The waves, once a tranquil ballet, now adopt a more assertive stance, punching the shore with newfound vigour. Luke feels the shift in the air, the atmosphere charged with an unspoken intensity.
He stands there, caught between the ebb and flow of the changing tides, feeling the cool breeze play with his hair. The salt from the sea hangs in the air, sticking to his lashes. Above him, grey clouds gather, a subtle harbinger of the impending change. As if responding to some unseen force, the sea, with a sudden abruptness, flattens.
Amidst the quiet tension, her arrival becomes a beacon of contrasting serenity. Her hair, the first thing that catches his eye, emerges from the blues—sleek and shining like the ocean itself, capturing the remaining light. With each step, her shoulders appear, water cascading from the light armour she wears. Long strands of her hair, wrapped around her index finger, release droplets as she drains the water from it. The white foam from the now-subdued waves pools at her boots as she makes her way up the beach.
Once her foot leaves the water, the ocean, as if resentful of her departure, reverts to its rageful intent, thrashing and spitting with renewed fervour. Undeterred, she walks up the beach, her head bowed slightly, and her hair moved to sit over her shoulder. Luke's eyes follow her, never leaving her figure as she almost struts up to him.
“Look at you," he states, his gaze captivated by the armour that exudes the timeless elegance of Ancient Greek craftsmanship. Her breastplate, a gleaming testament forged from bronze, hosts intricate engravings portraying swirling waves and mythical sea creatures. The craftsmanship, exquisite in every detail, captures the fluidity of the ocean's dance with unparalleled artistry. Adorning her shoulders, the epaulettes, fashioned to resemble the majestic fins of a sea serpent, add an ethereal touch to the ensemble.
Her eyes, a reflection of the depths of her experiences, remain locked onto his. She's not the same 18-year-old girl who left camp a year ago, harbouring resentment toward the gods and grappling with self-doubt. She's transformed into a soldier for her father, and the weight of her newfound strength and purpose makes him feel almost small in her presence.
"You are really your fathers daughter now, aren't you” he declares, his tone carrying a mixture of disbelief and frustration. She meets his gaze with unwavering intensity "I've changed, Luke," she retorts, her voice firm. "I'm not that naive girl who once questioned everything. I've seen the power, the responsibility that comes with being a part of this world." He scoffs, a bitter edge to his words, crossing his arms over his chest. "Responsibility? Do you hear yourself, More like blind servitude.You've become a pawn in their games, a soldier for a cause that doesn't care about you.”
Her eyes narrow, a spark of defiance igniting within her. "You're still clinging to that rebellious dream of a new age," she counters. “Do you hear yourself?” she mocks. His frustration mounts, and he takes a step closer, the distance between them narrowing. "What happened to forging our own path?” he states with a slight hiss, his eyes looking down onto her examining her face with his brown eyes “free from their whims?” he adds in an almost whisper, pushing back a strand of dark hair behind her ear, she moves her face away from his hand “You've abandoned that for a role that has you dancing to their tune." Luke continues, She squares her shoulders, a steely resolve in her demeanour. "I've embraced my heritage, Luke. I've found purpose and strength in it. Maybe it's time you stop fighting against it and see that." She steps back from him, and he goes to move after her, almost magnetised to her presents, but her eyes worn him.
"If you wanted to meet me here just to argue, then I'm going because I can't—" Her words are cut short, interrupted by Luke as he reaches out, gently catching her hand. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you again," he admits, his voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and longing.
His gaze searches hers for a trace of understanding. "We used to dream of a life together," he continues, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I miss that, miss us. And if this is the only way I get to be near you, even if it means arguing, then I'll take it. Because not having you in my life feels like an endless storm." he admits his eyes burning through hers.
She looks back at him, a realisation dawning in her eyes as if she's just understood the depth of what love truly means. In that moment, she sees everything reflected in his gaze — the longing, the vulnerability, the unwavering devotion. His hands holding hers speak volumes, and the words that escape his lips carry the weight of a love that has weathered storms.
To him, she is everything — a constellation in the vast expanse of his universe. She can feel it in the warmth of his hands, hear it in the soft timbre of his voice. He has been the constant, the anchor in the tumultuous sea of their shared existence.
Yet, as she stands there, she recognizes that love is a complex tapestry, woven with threads of both joy and pain. He was her sun, a source of warmth and brightness, but the sea called to her, and she found herself in its depths and storms. The day she turned eighteen and was claimed by her father, the sea embraced her, and she felt a sense of belonging she had long yearned for. She learned to shine not only for him but also for herself, finding her identity in the ebb and flow of the waves.
"I can lose everything but not you… oh gods, not you," he almost says to himself, his words carried away by the wind and the sound of the waves. Her ears barely catch the sentiment, but her body reacts before her brain can intervene. Her arm slings around his neck, and her lips crash into his. In that moment, the world around them fades into the background.
His hands find her waist, pulling her closer as they share a desperate and breathless kiss. It's a collision of emotions, a manifestation of the tangled feelings that have lingered between them. When they finally break apart, he places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.
"You fix this mess... with the master bolt, with my father and Zeus… and then maybe we could have this," she almost whispers, her voice a tender murmur against the backdrop of the ocean's symphony. "We could have us."
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#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan x fem!reader#pjo spoilers#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan x you#luke pjo
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《sleeping apart, after a fight || maknae line ver.》
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pairing: maknae line (separate) x gn!reader
genre: i dunno, you tell me. (fluff? angst?? SMUT??!?? no it’s not smut dw😌)
contains: exactly as it says in the title
warnings: !!!uncomfortable couch!!!
A/N: idk what i’m doing, any more than you do. why did i choose to write this? i have no clue 🤷♀️
on a completely unrelated note: here’s a song i’m obsessed with right now
hyung line | maknae line
Han
He watches as you grab your pillow and blanket from the bed, then angrily stomp into the living room.
When he hears the door slam, he sinks to the ground in a sigh.
He sits there, in silence for a few minutes, just to calm himself down, before anxiously tiptoeing into the living room, and approaching you.
“How about, I take the couch, and you go take the bed? I know your mad at me, and I feel bad, but I’d feel way worse if you wake up tomorrow with a sore back from this couch.”
You silently agree, while getting up from the couch to hand him the pillow and blanket.
“We’ll talk tomorrow morning?”
You reply with only a nod, too tired and overwhelmed to do much else.
The bed is a lot more comfortable than the couch, it’s a good thing you have a boyfriend who cares enough to make that trade for you.
An hour later, Jisung is still lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It's not comfortable at all, and he can feel every spring poking into his back. He rolls around, doing anything he can to try to get comfortable, but it is no use.
“Gah!”
He groans quietly to himself, and he eventually picks himself up off of the couch and walks to the bedroom.
A strong arm wraps around your waist. Still angry, but you don’t fight it.
“The couch is uncomfortable. I’d rather be here with you. I love you”
In the morning the fight is forgotten, and all is well in quokkaville.
Felix
He can’t sleep without you.
He’ll lay alone in the guest bedroom for an hour or two, scared to anger you more.
At 3am he finally sneaks into the bed beside you.
(If you’re asleep, he will quietly climb under the covers, and wrap you in his arms, very careful not to wake you up.)
If you are awake he just sits there, looking at you.
His hand gently rubs up an down your shoulder.
You are stubborn, and refuse to face him.
“Y/n i’m sorry… okay?”
“I forgot our date I know, I’ve just been so caught up with work… and I know that’s not an excuse, it’s my fault for forgetting. but I promise it won’t happen again, my love. I’m so sorry”
He practically begs you to forgive him
“Please darling… forgive me. I love you, and I can’t stand you being angry at me. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’ll take you out tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that. I’ll never forget a date again. I’ll even take friday off of work, and we can spend the whole day together!”
He rambles on and on, just trying to convince you to look at him.
But he stop’s suddenly when he sees your shoulder shake slightly, and he hears a sniffle.
“Oh god, oh no. Are you crying? Y/n I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!”
He holds your waist tightly and kisses your neck, doing anything he can to comfort you.
“i just feel like, i’m not a priority anymore. we haven’t gone out in a month.” you speak through sniffles, and choked sobs.
“No no no! Y/n you are always my number one! I’ve just been really busy with this new comeback, i haven’t had much time to think about really anything else. But i’m sorry, truly. I never want you to feel unloved. You are, and will always be, the most important thing to me, my love.”
He hugs you, and rocks you slowly off to sleep. All is well, all is forgiven, all there is, is love, between you.
Seungmin
“I’m done!! I’m sleeping in the guest room. We’ll finish this tomorrow!” you finally snap, then storm out of the living room.
Stubborn x equally as stubborn, is your relationship trope. You both know that this fight won’t end, until one of you puts your pride aside, to start the apologies.
Tonight, you refuse to be that person.
The guest bedroom is cold and lonely, you spend the whole night wondering how Seungmin is doing… He’s probably having a fantastic time in the big bed all to himself…
Your prediction couldn’t be any less correct.
Seungmin is eating himself up inside with guilt, he can’t sleep any more than you can.
Part of him is glad that you aren’t in the same room, since he always wants to appear strong infront of you. He would never want you to find him weak and crying like he is now..
The night is long, and uncomfortable, and cold, and neither of you can sleep.
After an hour or so, of suffering, Seungmin gives into the pain, and knocks on the guest bedroom door.
Angrily, you ignore him, but he enters anyways.
You look like a mess, your hair is a rats nest from hoe much you’ve tossed and turned, your face is all red and puffy from crying.
Without speaking, he crawls into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around your torso.
He gives you no space to refuse, but it’s not like you’d want to anyways…
“Let’s just stop fighting. I love you. Goodnight y/nnie”
Jeongin
“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight”
His disappointed, quiet tone, hurts you even more that it would’ve if he had yelled it.
Before you have any time to rebut, he leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
“Jeongin!!” he ignores your call.
He sets up the couch to the best of his ability, but it is anything but comfortable.
He lays in silence staring at the ceiling for what feels like an eternity, till he hears your footsteps echo down the hall.
Your sniffles break him, but he wants to remain strong. He knows that looking at you will break him, so he pretends to be asleep.
You kneel beside him, on the floor, and gently stroke his arm.
“Innie?”
He doesn’t reply initially, keeping his eyes closed to stay in character. But hearing your sniffles breaks him.
“Yeah?”
“Please come to bed. We don’t have to talk, we can stay on opposite sides of the bed. I just need you with me.” you beg.
Hearing this hurts him. He tries his hardest to avoid eye contact, knowing that he will instantly forgive you, if he even so much as looks at your face.
“Okay, i’ll come. I just need some time. We’ll talk tomorrow, alright?”
He then gets off of the couch, slowly walking to the bedroom. He climbs into his side of the bed, and you follow after.
You lay, facing away from eachother. Both wide awake, and unable to sleep.
There’s no way to prevent the tears that fall from your eyes, and you begin to choke back sobs. You try your best to stay quiet, to allow Jeongin peace and quiet. But of course, he can hear you.
As much as he wants to pretend he’s asleep, he feels bad seeing you like this. It’s clear that the guilt is eating you up inside, and it’s making him feel even worse.
Carefully, he wraps his arm around your waist, and you can feel his breath on your neck.
“Sshhh, lovely.. It’s okay. I am mad, but we’ll figure it out tomorrow. I still love you. Now go to sleep”
#Spotify#kpop#stray kids#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines#skz x reader#han jisung#jisung x reader#lee felix#felix x reader#seungmin#seungmin x reader#jeongin#jeongin x reader#what
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can you do a smut with dom!nate x sturniolo triplets sister where they're at a restaurant with the triplets and nate starts fingering her idc abt anything else but like please im begging you 🙏🙏
FORGIVE ME
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x sls!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being friends with benefits with your triplet brothers’ best friend isn’t the smartest idea. especially when nate teases you at a restaurant with your siblings there, there’s only one way to forgive him.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, mentions underage drinking, fingering, public, oral (female/male receiving), p in v
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,277
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first sturniolo’s little sister fic😯 i find this trope fun LOL
i miss why don’t we they were MY one direction.
hope you like it anon!
a burger sounds so good right now. you think to yourself before being rudely interrupted when a foot taps your shin from under the table. your annoyed eyes are met with chris’. “what are you getting?” he asks.
you shrug, continuing to scan the menu in front of you. “probably a bacon cheeseburger.”
your triplet brothers invited you out to dinner at the finest establishment around: texas roadhouse.
they picked up nathan along the way, who’s sitting silently next to you as the other three are squished in the booth across from you. the four of you are close and know everything about each other, which is the best kind of sibling relationship.
well, they think they know everything about you.
what they don’t — and will never know — is your friends with benefits with nate.
it started randomly at a high school party, where the two of you got drunk and made out which led to you guys fucking in the bathroom. it’s bizarre but true.
turns out, the two of you enjoyed it and this whole thing went on from there. that was months ago, by the way.
while taking a sip of your shirley temple, a hand is placed on your thigh. you look over to the culprit, who is talking casually to your siblings.
his hand teasingly moves up and down, each time getting closer to your waistband. your breath hitches as the waitress comes over. “are you guys ready?” she asks in her customer service voice, smiling as she clicks her pen.
“you go first, y/n.” nate says innocently, taking his fingers and now putting them in your pants to rub hard on your clit. he knows you love getting penetration there.
little shithead.
you clear your throat. “c-can i have a bacon cheeseburger, please?”
the waitress nods, writing on her notepad. “with what side?”
you feel two fingers going inside your wetness, moving at a medium pace. “mmm— fries!” you say loud and quickly. you clear your throat again. “please.”
the three across from you give the same weird look, as if silently saying ‘what the fuck is the matter with you?’
soon, the others put their orders in and go into their conversations. nate keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, a low whimper leaving your mouth.
when he knows your brothers aren’t listening because they’re arguing about whatever the fuck, he scoots closer to you and leans to your ear. “you’re so wet, baby. is it all for me?”
you grip his wrists, trying to pull him away when you feel your orgasm approaching. it’ll be embarrassing to cum in your pants. “nate—”
“you’re coming back to our house, right?” nick asks, causing nate to pull out his fingers and readjust in his seat.
“yup,” he replies, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.
you storm into your bedroom, nate following closely behind. you shut the door and lock it, putting your hands on your hips and tapping your foot like an angry parent. “are you trying to get us caught? what were you thinking?!”
he chuckles. “cut me some slack, will ya?”
he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to where your chests touch. you try your best to give him your best mad face, but to him, you look adorable. “i’m sorry.” he fake pouts.
he tugs at your shirt and slowly lifts it over your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground. his lips are mere centimeters from yours. “forgive me?”
“we don’t have time. they’ll get suspicious,” you whisper.
he shakes his head, now taking off his shirt. “they think the texas roadhouse got to the best of me. i’ll be in the bathroom for a while.” he winks, pecking your lips.
you bite your lip, not losing eye contact when you start to unbuckle his jeans. “i don’t think i forgive you.” you say sweetly, getting on your knees and simultaneously pulling his pants down.
“guess i’ll have to see.” you continue, eyeballing his hard-on through his boxer. you start to rub your hand over the fabric, a groan leaving nate’s mouth.
you give the tip a little kiss before pulling down his underwear, his dick aching for attention. you wrap your mouth around him, going as much as you can down his base.
moistening his lips, he throws his head back. he always loved the feeling of your warm mouth around him.
you start to bob your head, the gulping noises intensifying the faster you go. “shit.” nate exhales, taking his finger and lifting your chin so you can look at him.
he starts to thrust his hips to match your bobs, gagging in the process.
he pulls out of your mouth and in the blink of an eye, he flips you so you lay on your back. despite your bed being quite literally a foot away from you guys, he’s now on the ground with you between your legs. “forgive me yet?”
“n—” you don’t finish the word when he starts to dig into you without warning. even better, he takes his thumb and plays with your clit like how he did at the restaurant.
you moan too loudly, covering your mouth with your palm. the last thing you want is for your brothers to hear you. your other hand travels to nate’s head, grasping onto his hair tightly. “i’m close.” you mumble, making him pull away.
“what the hell?” you sigh annoyingly.
“shush.” he says, flipping you over once again to where you are now straddling his lap. “ride me.”
you smirk, kissing on his neck down to his chest. he grows impatient, lifting your hips and playing yourself on his cock. you whine, leaning back up straight and grinding your hips to feel him rub the right way on your walls.
“fuck.” you whimper. he grabs your hips and starts to bounce you, a squeal coming out of you. “nathan, fuck!”
“best be quiet, baby.” he smirks. “don’t want them to hear their little sister on their best friend’s dick.”
you whine lowly, biting your lip to quiet your moans. he sits up and you grab both sides of his neck, looking deep into each other’s eyes. he’s smiling smugly, but your face is contorting with pleasure.
he groans when he twitches inside of you.
“did nate fall asleep on the toilet?” matt’s voice echoes down the hallway, three pairs of footsteps along with it.
“the ribs probably gave him food poisoning or some shit.” chris replies.
nate moves you faster on him, panting lowly in the process. there’s no way he can stop now. he’s way too close.
the doorknob shakes, startling the both of you, but you guys keep going. “what the fuck? why is your door locked?” nick asks.
“fuck y/n, i’m cum—” you swallow his words by giving him an opened-mouthed kiss. you moan softly into his mouth, making sure you cum first before lifting yourself off of him.
he groans into your mouth when his cum makes a mess on his abs. “hello? earth to y/n?”
you pull away, staying in position to quietly catch your breath. “s-sorry, what?” you stammer.
“why is your door locked?” this time, the question is asked by matt.
“changing,” you answer, nate giggling silently.
there’s an awkward silence for a few beats before it's broken. “okay…” nick says in a hesitant manner, and their footsteps eventually recede.
“holy shit.” nate throws his head back to laugh, and you smack him on the chest.
“be quiet,” you mumble, getting off from the floor.
thank god you locked the door, or things could’ve ended terribly.
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld
#nate doe#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nathan doe#nicolas sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#nate doe smut#nate doe fanfic#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!
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Popular Boy (JJK One-Shot)
TW/Warnings: Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, Angst with Fluff ending, Profanity, Smoking from Shoko and Suguru, Highkey Miscommunication Trope, Cheesy cliches, this one-shot being way too long than it's supposed to be, a little OOC Satoru and Suguru
Series: Jujutsu Kaisen
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader
AU: Modern/High School AU!
Pronouns: She/Her(any gal could read this, but Reader is slightly coded to be introverted, good at drawing and crafts, and a nerd)
Word Count: 10.2k words
Summary: You weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend Satoru Gojo. But you did anyway. It doesn't help that he is the most popular guy in your school.
(A/N): This is my longest one-shot to date. I went off the rails and wrote this out of this idea and brain dump I had. Un top of being sick, I didn't post for like 2 weeks because I was working on this and having little motivation. But I'm back!
[!!!Unedited and not proofread!!! 1/24/2024 4:27pm CST]
Having a crush on your best friend is the absolute worst. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. But after reviewing your symptoms, you concluded that you are, indeed, in love with your best friend, Satoru Gojo. It's too bad he’s the most popular guy in the school. Suguru is second to him but doesn’t bask in the attention like his friend does.
It all started when you became friends with them in your first year of high school. Shoko was in your class, and you two became best friends instantly. You’d usually eat alone somewhere during break or lunch because the cafeteria was always rowdy, making it overstimulating. One day, your usual spot was taken over. Though it bummed you out your little spot was discovered, it wasn’t yours in the first place, so you went on a search for a new one. After a few minutes of searching, you spotted Shoko smoking in a hidden spot behind the school. She hears you from how your feet crunch on the dirt and asks you to join her. Though you didn’t smoke, you stayed with her. After talking briefly, Shoko asked if you were free after school, taking a long drag out of her cigarette.
You never stayed too long after school, only for your respective clubs, but that’s it. You also had no friends, so maybe this is your chance to get closer to Shoko. Upon agreeing, she smiles before taking her last drag out and extinguishing her smoke in a nearby ashtray. As the two of you returned to class, she told you that her other two friends were coming. Hinting that they were quite the handful. Your expression lightens upon hearing the two new people joining your hangout with Shoko. Perhaps this could be what you needed to step outside of your comfort zone to have a social experience like everyone else your age.
After getting off the train with Shoko, she pulled you along the busy crowd and met the two boys at the subway station entrance. You didn’t, however, expect Shoko’s mystery friends to be Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto—the most well-known boys in the entire school and possibly the whole district. Shoko was making your introduction to them as you grew shy under their gaze. Nervous was an understatement; anxiety was brewing in you like rain clouds forming a storm. What if they scoff at you? Mock you? Purposely pick on you for fun? Each thought raced against each other across your mind that you didn’t notice Satoru placing his hand on your shoulder. It snapped you back to reality as you looked up to avoid being rude.
You’ve heard the rumors and the hushed whispers from every corner of the school about how Satoru Gojo was among the most good-looking guys. How he had blue eyes that matched the sky and hair like snow. You only caught glimpses of him throughout the campus but never saw him up close. But now that you are, you can confirm it for yourself. To you, he looked more ethereal, if anything. His blue eyes were like the endless cerulean sky above, his white hair lightly tousled in the wind; he was beautiful to you.
“Hey, you don’t have to stiffen up around me. I don’t want you to go all shy on me (Y/N). Satoru Gojo, at your service~.”
Extend his hand to shake yours; you return the gesture, albeit clumsily. Satoru chuckles before he unexpectedly brings your hand to his lips. He kissed your fingers ever so gently, feather-like almost. Your body most certainly would have erupted in a blaze by his actions. But it didn’t; you were more caught off-guard. You wondered if he did this to every girl he came across. He just smiled afterward but gets bonked on the head by Suguru, who went to introduce himself to you.
“Satoru, you’re going to scare her off. Sorry (Y/N), he’s always like that. I’m Suguru Geto, and I hope you’re not uncomfortable because of him.”
You quickly dismissed it, trying to ease Suguru’s concerns. After hanging out with them, you knew you found people you would call friends. You never had that much fun until you hung out with them. Going to arcades, eating out together, and wandering the city of Tokyo filled you with non-replicable happiness. After that hangout, the rest was history. Since then, you have always hung out with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. You all stuck together like glue every time possible. You never guessed their popularity rubbed off as well. You became known on campus as a well-known upperclassman and now a senior.
But you noticed you spent more time with Satoru than with Shoko or Suguru. You could credit it to his goofy, childish personality that matched your vibe even more. He loved discussing Digimon and was happy you shared the same interest. You two would indulge in each other’s interests and hobbies. It became more evident that both of you had grown closer from when Shoko adopted you into their group. Yet, you told yourself time and time again not to fall for Satoru. In fear of losing what you have with each other because you caught “feelings.” In addition, Satoru had many, many, MANY admirers—girls across the school, district, and the Tokyo Metropolitan area. Many come from prominent backgrounds, blessed with being gifted, or simply beautiful in every way. While you didn’t mean to self-sabotage yourself, you were beautiful and brilliant in your own right; you were being realistic. How could someone like Satoru Gojo, from a wealthy and prominent family for centuries, go for someone like you? It was wishful thinking at that point, but it was stretching itself thin even then.
Anyhow, this brings you to the present. It’s December 1st, six days before Satoru’s birthday. You were in your dorm, conjuring up what to get him. It was more complicated than because the man was loaded. He had the money to buy anything and everything he wanted. So what can you get for him that wasn’t already bought? After some time, you had the genius idea to make something for him. You decided on making a bracelet and a framed sketch of him from one of your sketchbooks you occasionally draw in.
While working on your gifts, you were on the receiving end of teasing from Suguru and Shoko, specifically from Suguru. I mean, he was the first one to catch on to your feelings for his friend. Shoko had her suspicions but never mentioned them in case she was delusional. But once Suguru brought it up, she instantly joined in the teasing. It was harmless fun, yet you couldn’t help but rethink your crush on Satoru. Your feelings for him shouldn’t exist, yet you can’t help it. You felt alive, but most of all, you felt comfortable and safe with Satoru. You never hid your lovely personality or felt ashamed of your interests. Satoru was always supportive and was a part of your shenanigans too. As cheesy as it was to admit, it felt like you’ve found your soulmate, your other half. You always relished your moments with Satoru, no matter how short or dumb they were. Sure, you loved your moments with the gang, but it hits differently when it’s only Satoru and you. It was as if your life changed when he came into it.
During the day before Satoru’s birthday, Shoko and Suguru hunched over your desk as you finished the page you were doodling. The smears from the graphite and erased pencil markings showed the fine details to capture Satoru’s features.
“Wow, those look exactly like him. If he were animated, he'd be drawn like this. May I, (Y/N)?” Suguru asked.
You nodded, and Suguru picked up the sketchbook to inspect the page further. Shoko peered over his shoulder to also get a look.
“I think Gojo would love this. Don’t you think so, Suguru?”
“I would think so too, Shoko. It’s a well-thought-out gift (Y/N). Satoru would love it.”
“Wait, (Y/N)! Show Suguru what else you made him!”
Suguru raises a brow at the brunette as you pull up a photo on your phone to show to Suguru. Suguru squinted his eyes a bit to see the picture a bit more clearly.
“You made that bracelet for Satoru? It’s pretty nice. Where’s our (Y/N)?”
“I have them back in my room, Suguru! I just. . . You know. . .”
“So you’re implying we’re not as special as your beloved Blue Eyes White Dragon?”
“SHOKO, you’re not helping!!! OfcourseImadeitmorespecialforhimbecausehereallylikesdigimonandhisbirthdayiscomingup–”
“(Y/N)! I was just joking! Geez, calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”
As you catch yourself from any further rambling, you are about to explain the bracelet to Suguru before Satoru slides the classroom door open. You think it’s him but can’t tell through the mountain of gifts and bags in his arms. But seeing a wisp of his white hair gave you all the more reason that it was Satoru. Satoru plops the pile on his desk as his arms cave in, some gifts falling off the edge and onto the floor. One fell near your desk, so you picked it up and placed it back on his desk.
“Is it Valentine’s Day? What’s with the gifts, Satoru?”
“*sighs* These are from numerous girls all over the school from varying grades. My birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I'll get the early gifts. Though, I don’t know how to return all this to my dorm. You guys wanna help me open them up back in my room?”
You all replied yes and helped Satoru with his pile of gifts. As you put on your sketchbook, you felt a breath tickle your ear.
“Hey, whatcha drawing, (Y/N)? Drawing (favorite Digimon/Pokemon) again? Let me see!”
You caught a whiff of his surprisingly minty, fresh breath. Usually, it comes in hot with the number of sweets he’s been eating, so this was a pleasant surprise to you.
“I’ll show you later when we open your gifts in your room, ‘Toru. You gotta be patient.”
You chided while swatting his all too-close face away from you. Little did you know, a sickly sweet smile flashed on his face upon hearing his nickname. Once the last bell rang, you four headed straight for Satoru’s dorm to open all the gifts he received from the day. Once dumping them into a pile, you each read the note attached to the gifts and opened them up. Some were cool, homemade gifts, others were basic and generic. Most were sweets or baked goods since he is widely known to have a sweet tooth. You all were open and chatty when Suguru grabbed a neatly wrapped velvet box.
“Hey, Satoru, isn’t this from your ex?”
“Which one?”
“Don’t know, let me see the tag. . . From Satomi. . .”
“Oh, her! Let me see, Suguru!”
You cringed hard hearing Satoru talk about his numerous “girlfriends.” As much as you didn’t want to say it, Satoru’s playboy attitude was your least favorite thing about him. All the girls he saw shared one common trait: they never stayed too long with him. Satoru would cycle through many girls every few weeks to maybe a month. He never bothered to introduce them into the friend group, let alone bring them to your shared hangouts. Now that you think about it, he never talks about them when you or the others are present. He never calls them his girlfriends or partners, just sugar-coated words and nicknames meant to sweeten a non-existent fruit that never grew in the first place. You wondered if he would treat you the same if you dated him. But you were thinking too deeply, FOCUS GIRL!!! It’s now or never. Well, not really, but you have the perfect chance to give Satoru his birthday gift! You can make it work for just the two of you! Find him by himself, steal him away to deliver your gift, and possibly confess.
Satoru's birthday gifts from his fans dwindled to only small boxes and clear bags. Shoko and Suguru categorized his gifts as apparel, food, trinkets, etc., while Satoru plopped beside you. You were munching away at some candy, deciding to take a break from opening the cookie cutter-esk presents as your vision became spotty. It was silent for a moment, only the sounds of your other two friends' voices bickering about which pile a gift should go. Satoru shifts his attention towards you, mindlessly popping the candy into your mouth before dramatically yawning, spreading his limbs across his bed. His legs would stretch over your lap. You popped the last candy before throwing the empty bag at him.
“What’s wrong, Satoru? You've grown tired of your gifts or what?”
“That and feeling sore from sitting on the floor. . . Hey! Will you show me your drawing from earlier (Y/N)?”
“Uh. . . I dunno, Satoru–”
“Pleaseeeeeeee?! I promise I won’t crease the pages like last time! Come on (Y/N)!”
Satoru juts out his lip and gives his puppy eyes with praying hands. You glance at Suguru and Shoko, who snickered at your little predicament. You sighed deeply and pulled out your sketchbook for him to see. He was giving you his full attention, asking questions, and complimenting the fine details of your latest creation. You two were smiling and giggling along as you turned the pages. However, you were getting nervous because you didn’t want Satoru to see his page. You hoped he got bored or distracted so you didn’t have to flip through more from your book. Suguru has a sixth sense because he called Satoru’s attention before you flipped to the next page, which would’ve been his.
“Okay, man, we sorted your gifts into these four separate piles, which one should be obvious. . . Look at the time; it’s almost curfew for the girls. I’ll walk them to their dorms, Satoru.”
Before Satoru could protest and tag along, Suguru snatched you and Shoko away and out of the dorm. Satoru stood up perplexed, before shrugging it off and storing his gifts away. Suguru dragged you two to the skywalk and looked dead into your eyes, startling you from his sudden closeness.
“You have to do it tomorrow, (Y/N).”
“Uh, do what, Suguru?”
Shoko and Suguru gave each other a face before looking back at you.
“You gotta confess to Satoru, (Y/N). Do it tomorrow when you give him your gift on his birthday. And before you ask, we knew about your feelings for him way before. It’s painfully obvious, (Y/N).”
Shoko just nods her head in agreement. You knew Suguru had a point; it’s now or never. But you didn’t want to make things awkward for Satoru, let alone pressure him to say yes because he feels terrible for rejecting. Overthinking started kicking into high gear, and you started thinking about every possible scenario Satoru could react to. None of them were of him reciprocating your feelings. Unfortunately, Suguru had to say the dread words no one wants to hear when trying to confess to their crush.
“The worst thing he could say is no, (Y/N).”
Shoko elbows him while you wince at his words. You knew he meant to comfort you, but it didn’t help ease your nerves. Suguru, observant as ever, picked up on it, and from Shoko’s reaction, he knew his words were a miss.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll come with you for support, so it won’t be as stressful going alone.”
Suguru gives you a comforting smile, and you give on in return. Shoko said she couldn’t come because she volunteered to tutor some underclassmen for some Visa gift cards. So she says good luck to you before walking across the skyway and into the building of the girls' dormitory. You gained some confidence and bid Suguru goodnight to finalize your gifts. You framed Satoru’s page in a sleek dark blue frame and knotted Satoru’s bracelet. The marble beads of the bracelet were white, cerulean blue, and black. Complementing each with a small interchange charm in the middle where an Agumon charm dangled freely. You wrapped up both gifts and placed them in a mildly used paper bag you had from when you went shopping.
As the next day rolled in, you were surprisingly giddy to give your gift. You just had to catch Satoru alone and give yourself a good ten minutes to slip in your confession. The problem was you hadn’t seen Satoru at all. Sure, today was a half-day, but Satoru was barely in class. When he was, though, he was flooded by many girls telling him happy birthday or giving more gifts. Since it was a Friday, Satoru didn’t do much after school and would wander Tokyo for the remainder of the day. You knew you were losing time, so doing it right after school was best.
Once the last bell rang, you packed your bag and held your present tightly to find Satoru. However, he was gone from his seat when you looked at his desk. While you tried to find him, Suguru texted you. He said he saw Satoru go behind the school. He also said he would wait for you at the front gate to hear about your results. As you go to the back, you are smiling so hard that it would make your teeth rot. But as you got closer, your sweet smile instantly dropped when you heard a girl’s voice and another voice you made out to be Satoru’s. Your heartbeat repeatedly drummed in your ears as you hid yourself to not be noticed. Trying to even out your breath, you slowly peek your head in a slow, agonizing manner to get a better look. Unfortunately, your curiosity kills your heart as it confirms your worst fear.
Satoru stood smiling, and another girl giggled like a classic school girl in a high-school rom-com movie. You recognized her as she was in the same grade but from a different class. You’ve seen her around but never been a part of Satoru’s unofficial fan club. Yet you could never have guessed she liked him too. You knew you should look away, already seeing what was needed. But the naive sliver of hope forced you to continue watching, hoping it was a delusion your mind conjured up. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew the other girl beat you to him as she held Satoru’s hand and smiled up at him. Satoru places a hand on her cheek and probably says something you can make out ‘I love you' before dipping his head to meet hers. A chill washes over your body as your grip on Satoru’s present stiffens, further crimping the paper bag. Shakily, you pulled out your phone and took a picture before turning on your heels and going anywhere but here.
Suguru was ever so patiently waiting on the outcome. He was blissfully smiling. Hoping all is going well and in your favor. He was distracted by his phone when he recognized the sound of your footsteps. He pockets it as he sees your figure walk towards the gates. He cheerfully called out for you but was met with silence. When you walked past him, your head hung low; Suguru knew something was wrong. Concerned, he quickly went after you while calling for you. When nothing works, he steps in front of you to hold your shoulders still to prevent any more movement. Shaking your shoulders, he firmly asks what’s wrong.
A wretched look contorted on his face when he saw your face. Your eyes are shiny from glossy tears on the verge of overflowing from the edges. Lips in a tight quiver, trying to not let a sob escape from within the depths of your hurt soul. You were trying your best to stay together, but Suguru saw you were hanging on by a thread. He gives you a comforting, tight hug as you begin to cry into him. Letting it all out and providing comforting pats on your back. As you start to calm down, Suguru gently takes you to a nearby cafe where some of your group hangouts and study sessions happen. Considering your current state, he keeps you from paying for your drink. Once he got them and sat down, you told him what you saw that caused this. Suguru chokes on his drink in disbelief upon hearing about Satoru’s doings.
“He what?! Are you sure, (Y/N)?”
You nodded as you pulled up the picture on your phone to show Suguru. His eyes widen even further as he stares at the picture. Returning back your phone, he takes a big sip of his drink.
“So, what are you going with your gift then, (Y/N)? Are you still going to give it to Satoru?”
“I... I. . . Don’t know, Suguru. . . I did make it for him, but I don’t think he’ll care.”
“What makes you think he wouldn’t, (Y/N)?”
“You know what I mean, Suguru. Satoru doesn’t really hold onto any gifts he gets. Unless it’s sweets or something he thinks is cool, he’ll donate, give, or throw it away. My present would collect dust in his room and be forgotten. We literally sorted out his fan mail yesterday.”
You glance over at your initial present for Satoru. The bag has deep creases and wrinkles from death gripping it in your disassociated state. You delicately bring it to your lap, blankly staring at the two dedicated gifts inside. Sighing in defeat, you slowly fold the top of the bag before setting it back in its previous place. You gave Suguru a tired smile, saying how wishful thinking blinded you from reality. Suguru couldn’t help but feel pity. It hurts him to see you like this and blame yourself for dreaming about something he knew would become a reality. But he was thrown in for a loop because he was sure his best friend was hopelessly in love with you. The glances, the consistency of bringing up your name, the extra care he gave when it came to you, IT WAS ALL RIGHT THERE! Was Satoru leading everyone on, you included? Suguru was going to get to the bottom of this. He escorts you back and asks Shoko to stay with you until nighttime.
After filling Shoko in, you looked at the crippled bag sitting alone on the floor. Taunting, making a mockery of you, and constantly reminding you how you really let your feelings get out of hand to let you believe a fantasy. How foolish you are, little stupid fool you were, you think. Getting off your bed, you go over to the bane that reminds you of your naivete as a hopeless romantic. You were tempted to throw the whole bag away; consider burning it all.
Despite thinking of wiping the existence of those gifts from this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were drawings of Satoru and a handmade bracelet with his favorite Digimon, and you were proud of how they turned out. The time and dedication you put into it really showed how much this man had a chokehold on your life no matter what. Crush, friend, it didn’t matter. He really changed your life; you would be forever grateful for that. Even if that meant you always stayed friends. It was a better fate than being strangers altogether. So you decide to store the bag in an empty drawer for miscellaneous items, not wanting to see it anymore. Shoko was surprised by your actions. Though she would understand you destroying them, she didn’t expect you to keep your gifts. You just shrugged, saying destroying it wouldn’t do you any good. No amount of satisfaction or fulfillment would come from it. Shoko just gives you a hug as you lean into it.
Ever since that day, you slowly stopped talking to Satoru. He didn’t notice it because you would make excuses or leave immediately before he could catch up. He thought you were busy with homework and school. It was brought to his attention when you wouldn’t hang out with him. Whenever he texted you to hang out, you would say you were busy or not feeling good. It got worse when you didn’t attend your group hangouts with Suguru and Shoko. It was always the four of you. Without you, it felt incomplete, and Satoru started to miss you and the vibe you brought. Even when he asked Suguru or Shoko where you were, they would give the same answer you did. And it was starting to frustrate him. Did he say or do something to distance yourself from him? Did he accidentally hurt without realizing it? Why did you suddenly not want to talk to him anymore? He sees you talking to your other friends and classmates without a care in the world. Your lovely lips always curled upwards, and how your cheeks and eyes molded to highlight your face, you were absolute divinity in his eyes. Had you always looked so beautiful to him? Yes, but he didn’t realize that until now since his only way of looking at you is from a distance.
Every time he would try to make his way over to you, you gave a quick side glance in his direction before wrapping up any conversation and leaving. This honestly began to hurt Satoru. He had never dealt something like this with anyone else. Maybe when he had severe fights with Suguru, but they would make up in the end since he knew it was mostly his fault. But this is different because he was in the dark of your avoidance. It was like he was the bubonic plague, and you were straight-up social distancing yourself from him. It didn’t matter when or where; as soon as he entered within a 12-foot radius, you were going in the other direction. This had been going on for almost two weeks! It was now the 21st, the last school day before winter break. Nothing significant was happening today besides the classic winter break assembly. He needed to talk to you so you two could somehow talk it out and make it. It’s ironic how oblivious he was to the circumstances he was in. The roles are now reversed because now he’s pining after you like you had been for him for the past few years. You usually would sit with them during these events, but since you’re distancing, you opted to sit with your peers. When you did sit with them, you would be the furthest away from Satoru.
Satoru should’ve been paying attention to the assembly. But his only focus was you, who was on the other side of the gymnasium. You were sitting on opposite bleachers with one of your underclassmen, Riko Amanai. Satoru wished he could teleport himself to you, pick you up, and go to a quiet place to talk. But he knew he had to be patient to make his move, something Suguru had to remind him constantly. Once the assembly was over, Satoru by-lined to where you were. However, the sea of students eager to leave school is challenging, even for the 6’3 boy. He saw glimpses of you with Riko as you pulled her along and weaved through the crowd out of the school. The resistance he met trying to reach you became so aggravating he was shoving anyone who got in his way. It got to the point where students made room for him to pass through, fearing the wrath of Satoru Gojo in a bad mood.
Alas, once he exited the school, you had already gone off campus to who knows where with Riko and Kuroi, her caretaker. Satoru tightened his fists, and his face bore a scowl as you slipped away again. He would have punched the school’s concrete fence if Suguru didn’t pop up in front of him. Satoru was slightly calmed when he saw his friend, but a twinge of unease settled in when he saw Suguru’s strained smile. To a regular person, it seemed like a genuine smile. But Satoru knew Suguru enough to know when he gave these smiles. This one meant he was in deep trouble. Suguru said he needed to talk to Satoru about something over a bucket of KFC with one of the Visa gift cards Shoko gave them. Satoru followed it, knowing there was more to Suguru’s unidentified mood. However, Suguru just stops in front of the KFC, idly standing with his back to him. Seeing his standoffish behavior, Satoru becomes confused and finally breaks their tense silence.
“Look, Suguru, I know this isn’t the best time. But we need to talk about (Y/N).”
“What is there to talk about her, Satoru?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Suguru. You noticed how (Y/N) has barely been hanging out with us. Giving excuses to not hang out. I don’t understand why this happened so fast. Two weeks ago, (Y/N) was fine. She was laughing with us and being a part of our stupid antics. Then, after my birthday, she slowly stopped replying to my texts and avoided me altogether. Suguru, you got to know something. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore. I need to know what I did to make her stop talking to me.”
Oh, Suguru knew the reason why you were doing this. You told him yourself. You admitted to Suguru you didn’t know how to act around Satoru anymore, in fear of spilling your confession and making a fool out of yourself. You knew how cowardly it was to do this. Not correctly communicating your emotions and actions to Satoru was self-sabotage, and your relationship with him would suffer severely. You tried to ride out your feelings to the best of your abilities. But you learned that those feelings for Satoru wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. So, you thought the best option was to slowly distance yourself from Satoru to heal your broken heart and save your dignity. Suguru was against this at first. But he let it slide since it was only Satoru and not him or Shoko.
What he didn’t let slide was how he saw his best friend paraded around his latest girlfriend. He knew that relationship wouldn’t last at all because there was one thing he knew about his best friend. Satoru Gojo is a lonely person. No amount of fan girls or guys dick-riding him would fill the void of loneliness Satoru faced in his life. He always was told that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was talented and good at anything and everything he did. But with that, people only saw him from afar, never really caring to realize Satoru was like anyone else besides his wealth. Suguru knew you made Satoru feel seen and let him dwell on his antics so he could be a teen, not some high, mighty God people were willing to kiss his feet. Satoru fell in love with you but doesn’t want to admit it. Seemingly taken you for granted. Suguru doesn’t blame you for trying to lose feelings for him. He would, too, if the person he liked gave mixed signals and had a cycle through partners like daily outfits even though they heavily implied to their best friend they wanted you but never cared to tell.
You would have made the first move. But with many rejections, some harsher than others, you decide to wait for the other person to say something first or drop an obvious hint. You aren’t going to drive through a red light, only green ones. You often hear the phrase, ‘Girls who make the first move on a guy get the relationship.’ That is a blatant lie and bullshit because it only works if the guy doesn’t care, the girl asking is conventionally pretty, or the guy already liked or was interested in the girl. You experienced so much rejection that you might as well give up on telling your feelings so as not to be seen as pathetic. You thought it would be different for Satoru because of your powerful chemistry together. But he sent many mixed signals, being flirtatious and teasing you, genuinely looking out for you simultaneously, all the while still never giving a break to dating and having a long line of girlfriends at his beak and call. It was too complicated for you. Then, with the incident, you knew you had no chance with him because it seemed he would never feel the same.
“Do you like (Y/N), Satoru?”
Satoru gave his best friend a bewildered look, his face recoiling.
“Yeah, of course, I like (Y/N), Suguru. What kind of question is that—”
“That’s not what I’m asking you, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N)? Yes or No, simple as that.”
“What are you trying to get at, Suguru?”
Suguru visibly groans at the Satoru’s density. This was annoying Suguru at this point.
“Satoru, be honest with yourself. Admit it, you’re in love with (Y/N). How you look out for her, care for her, and constantly bring her up in conversations every chance you get, the longing gaze you give her when she isn’t looking, always staring at her instead of anyone else in the room. The list goes on and on, Satoru. Stop denying it. Do you love her, or are you just saying that because you want to joke about someone’s feelings?”
Satoru’s voice was caught in his throat; he had his answer, but his body wasn’t giving him a chance to say it. It was like Suguru hitting the nail every time, making Satoru feel cornered. Suguru sighed frustratedly at the silence of his best friend, who usually would have his answers ready in the queue.
“So you never really loved (Y/N) then, Satoru.”
“What! No! I do love (Y/N), Suguru—”
“Then why the fuck do you still indulge in your playboy personality? You and I both know that won’t get you anywhere, Satoru. It’s doing you more damage than good, yet you continue feeding into it! Maybe if you gave a break from your causal flings, (Y/N) would have confessed to you, and the two of you would have been dating by now. God, You’re just a headache, Satoru…” Suguru doesn’t shout, but his sharp tone is on the edge of becoming angry.
Wait, what?
You were going to confess to him?
You like him too?
Satoru blinks owlishly while trying to process this mind-breaking information. You liked Satoru, so the feeling was mutual, right? Then why is Suguru getting mad at him for feeling the same way?
“Wait… Suguru...(Y/N) likes me too? Why didn’t she say anything in the first place? Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because you already had a girlfriend, Satoru. (Y/N)’s not a home wrecker.”
“Yeah, okay. But I was single for two weeks! She knew that! Why didn’t she confess to me then?!”
“I don’t know, Satoru… Maybe because she was more focused on making your birthday gifts than her confession towards you. How much of her time was dedicated to making them? She was going to confess to you but decided not to.”
“When, Suguru?!”
“ . . .Your birthday. . . (Y/N) was going to give your gifts and confess on your birthday, but you decided to fuck yourself over.”
“ ‘Fuck myself over? What do you mean, Suguru?” Satoru said in a hushed but shocked whisper.
Suguru pulls out his phone, pulls up the picture you took, and shows it to Satoru. Satoru’s eyes widen like saucers, surprised by Suguru’s possession of a photograph that captured his private moment. He grabs Suguru’s phone to take a closer look before looking back up at him, face still bearing the same expression.
“Wait, that happened on my birthday. How did you take this?
“I didn’t take it, Satoru. . .”
“Huh? Then who—”
Oh. . .Oh. . .
Oh no. . .
It all was starting to click for Satoru. Suguru looked unamused as he saw his friend’s gears moving in his head.
“Suguru, I—”
“So, do you love (Y/N), Satoru? Yes or no?”
Satoru stays silent with no motions to verbalize an answer.
“*sighs* Then tell me, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N) because she is beautiful? Or is she beautiful because you love her?”
Suguru left a defeated and devastated Satoru in the streets to be alone with his thoughts. In doing so, he hoped his friend would connect the dots himself. Satoru stood frozen in front of the KFC, finally understanding it. The distance, the consistent decline in hangouts, the short conversations, being ‘happy’ around others but never near him, how your smile droops at the mention of his name, and the solemn expression your eyes wore ever since his birthday all added up. It was all because of him. Sure, it’s both parties at play here.
On the other hand, your actions were just reactions to his own, especially when his loneliness caused him to become desperate in seeking out the attention of multiple girls he would ‘date.’ Consequently, it signaled he was looking for something casual with no strings attached, making you believe giving a confession would be useless to someone like him. But that’s far from the truth.
He couldn’t believe he had done you dirty for so long. You were always in front of him, waiting for him this whole time. You were the one to give him warmth and fill in the void of loneliness that has plagued his soul for so long. But he never gave you a chance because he never cared to ask or consider it. He took you for granted because he knew you would always be there for him through everything and anything; you were his ride or die. Oh, how irresponsible of him that not truly appreciating your presence would lead to your eventual withdrawal.
Now he realized his love for you was real and profound as it was tiered above anything else. The way he flexed his bicep when you linked arms with him to stay close in big crowds, the stars your eyes have when talking about your favorite topic made him have this dumb love-sick look, or your smile that always filled him with love and joy when it’s directed at him, he still wanted to experience these things with you but as more as friends. And yet, he was on the verge of losing it all forever. Three years of friendship/pining would be wiped away in three weeks. All because he was scared to admit his fragile vulnerability behind his pompous attitude. He had to do something; he needed to. Or the only thing he will have of you is the memories you two created. Satoru booked it and ran through Tokyo for ideas on what to do. He didn’t care if he looked absurd. All that mattered to him was finding a way to mend things. The only thing on his mind was you.
Because he knew it was you.
It always has been you.
And he had to pull off miracles to save your relationship with him.
It was the next day; Satoru was carrying a big shopping bag around Tokyo, hoping to find you. After spending the rest of his afternoon and night finding some ideas, he made you what he dubs his ‘I’m sorry’ present, which was also your Christmas present. It contained a 15-inch plushie of (Your favorite Animal/Digimon/Pokemon/Character), a jacket you told him you wanted but was too expensive a while back, and (earrings/necklace/bracelets/rings/any sort of wearable jewelry) in your favorite color as you stared at it longingly when at the mall with the gang, Satoru always made a note of that.
Now, the hard part giving them to you in hopes of talking with him. It would have to be a miracle to cross paths with you. Satoru couldn’t text you since you stopped responding to his attempts at communication. In a vast city being hectic in the upcoming days of the holidays, he needed all the luck he had just to spot you in the crowd. But even if he knew your schedule by heart, there was no sign of you in Tokyo. He could visit your home, but he assumes he’s an unwelcome guest since you lived with your (sibling(s)/guardian/parent(s)/loved one), and you confide in them frequently. As time never stops, he’s losing time. His precious time with you is slipping away, never to return. Both and forth, the wind chill nipped and whipped at his exposed skin. Satoru’s cheeks, nose, and knuckles were rosy as his body worked overtime to keep warm. The puffs from his mouth fogged up his glasses as he forced himself to continue searching just to have a chance to run into you.
Satoru is not religious, nor does he believe in a god. And yet, in those moments, Satoru started to pray. He was praying, begging, pleading for any divinity to hear his desperate cries to come across you. Just a chance, anything, he’ll do anything to see a wisp of (hair color) hair walking along the streets. His strides slowed; every step he took was heavy. Until they eventually came to a stop; his chest puffed in and out after wandering aimlessly along the bustling streets of Tokyo. He exhausted himself to the point that he was unaware he was in front of the school’s gates. He didn’t even notice the gates were wide open, and a familiar figure approached them along the adjacent side. His hands were on his knees, hunched over where a shadow loomed over him. Then he hears a voice so angelic and heavenly that he believes he was hallucinating at first.
“Satoru? Satoru, are you okay?”
Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, seeing you are bundled up well. You wear a slightly troubled face while holding an umbrella over his head.
“What brings you here, Satoru? I thought you had stayed home today since it was forecasted to snow.”
Once pointed out, Satoru noticed white specks falling in front of him. He stands up at full length, making you adjust your umbrella's height on him. Though his signature grin is on his glossy lips, internally, he is screaming and celebrating that his prayers have been answered. After hours of aimlessly trying to find you throughout the city, you were finally in front of him in the most ironic place. He chuckles at your gesture before gingerly taking your umbrella and hovering it above you two.
“I was going to ask you the same thing, (Y/N).” He gives a warm smile at you.
“The school left the campus and dormitories open so students could grab their things to take home. I forgot some stuff at my dorm, so I came today to get them. Would you like to accompany me, Satoru?” You said, adjusting your empty canvas tote bag on your shoulders.
With no hesitation or thinking, Satoru immediately said yes. He smiled as he walked the two of you to your dorm. But you couldn’t help but glance down at the big shopping bag he was holding. ‘It must be a Christmas present for his girlfriend… she is so lucky.’ you thought. Not a single peep came out of you two throughout the trip to your dorm, even with no words, tension building up in the air surrounding you. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move. It was childish to continue like this. There was no bad blood between the two of you at all. But you were persistent in embarrassing yourself in front of Satoru. Before all this, you were never afraid to have banter or say the most off-the-record stuff with Satoru. But it was different when it was unrequited thoughts and feelings, as you didn’t want to further humiliate your pathetic self. Once you got to your dorm, you said you wouldn’t take long. Closing your door, Satoru leans against the back of it. He watches silently as you diligently gather your needed items and place them inside your bag. Each item is packed into your bag, and he has less time to make his move. He knows he needs to say something because he sought after you for a reason.
Likewise, you were in the same boat. You can feel the tension blanket your body as you retrieve your things. Avoid direct eye contact with Satoru for fear of breaking your facade and folding. While trying to focus on anything that wasn’t him, your eyes kept glancing at the massive bag beside Satoru’s feet. It was a decently sized bag spaced out from the items it contained. By the looks of it, you assumed Satoru went out splurging on his latest girlfriend for Christmas.
‘Wish that was me receiving that bag. . .’ You thought to yourself as you arranged the items to avoid ruining your bag.
Satoru snapped out of his trance when the sound of your shuffling stopped. Your head slightly hung low as you stared at the bag with flat palms. You sighed with your head shaking side to side. You decided to break the silence to ease the tense air in your room.
“I didn’t know you did last-minute shopping, Satoru. Guessing how full that bag is, it’s your Christmas present to your girlfriend. You love spoiling your girlfriends with endless money to burn. Keep doing that, and you’ll go broke, dude. . . Lucky her. . .” You slipped the last part out under your breath. Your smile dropped briefly before returning, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru.
However, you remembered Satoru had excellent hearing. He could pick out of the faintest of whispers. When you realize that, you panicked and faced him. From how his brows were raised, you knew he definitely heard it. Your brain scrambled to find a way to cover the creaks in your walls from your slip-up, causing you to speak up. What you didn’t expect was Satoru doing the same.
“Sorry, Satoru, I didn’t mean that–”
“(Y/N), I need to–”
After catching each other’s words, you both abruptly stop to give space for the other to talk. Satoru gestures for you to go first. Gentleman as every. Feeling the anxiety and embarrassment weighing on you, you didn’t dare to look at him when talking, so your head focused back on your bag.
“Look, Satoru. . . I know how immature this is, but I want to apologize for the sudden change in my behavior and distance over the last few weeks. It was uncalled for, and you deserved a proper answer.–”
“No.”
“It’s because– huh?”
Prompting you to look up at Satoru, to which he had an unreadable expression. His glasses were blocking the creases of his eyes to indicate any of his emotions. A chill of uneasiness ran up your spine when you saw the serious look on Satoru’s face. He walks over to you with his hands in his pockets as he stares down, his expression unchanged.
“No, I need you to hear me out.”
Satoru cut off any chance for you to speak because he and you would be done if you did. He knew if he didn’t find you before Christmas Eve, what you two had would cease to exist. Once winter break ends and school resumes, he and you would be in two separate worlds. Ultimately becoming strangers who once knew each other. The thought of it made him nauseous and clammy to the core. You were the sun that shined in his endless cerulean sky. The moon and stars that gave illuminated his night sky. You gave light to the vast numbness he’d endured for all he could remember. You were the light he had been longing for years. And he was going to lose it all because he was a coward who didn’t have the balls to admit it and used dating as a coping mechanism to fill the hole in his heart. So it’s now or never for him to be vulnerable to you because he feared this was his last chance.
“I know you didn’t mean to distance yourself from me at all. I know you still cared about me and didn’t want to push me away for fear of humiliating yourself. Being me, I didn’t notice at first that you were hurting until you uprooted yourself from my life, and it’s been god-awful without you. . . I’m sorry, (Y/N).”
The genuine sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. You noticed that. It came straight out of Satoru Gojo, not from the egotistical, pompous, popular senior, but from your best friend. So you decided to up your ears to what he has to say. When you gave him your undivided attention, Satoru knew this was it, so he spilled it out.
“I’m sorry that I haven’t really appreciated your presence. I took you for granted because I thought you would always be with me, with no chance of leaving me. That bit me in the ass once you slowly stopped being with me. But I know there’s more: the mixed signals I gave off, the playboy attitude, and the lack of self-awareness I had for myself. It was a way for me to not confront the crimpling loneliness and numbness I’ve been having. I indulge in my fangirls and causal relationships, hoping it would fix it. But it was just a temporary solution to a long-term problem. I saw the girls as a means to get my mind away from it, and the girls get to be with the famous Satoru Gojo. . . I’ve done this song and dance for so long that it was a part of my routine. . .”
“Oh, Toru. . .”
God, he missed that nickname you gave him. The way it rolls off your tongue in any tone, it’s seared into his memory and mind. When people, especially his ‘girlfriends,’ try to use that same nickname on him, it fills him with unexplainable rage. That name was for you to use on him, not them. They didn’t have a place in his heart like you do, so he always corrected them to minimize the usage of that nickname. But when you said it, it was soft and tender like the snow falling outside. He knew he was getting to you, and it was working. He relaxes as he closes his eyes, only to open them when your hand gently holds his cheek. Thumb swiping it in a comforting manner. You wanted to say something so Satoru didn’t have to do all the work. For him to admit, he took down all his walls so you could see all of him. To you, it was a privilege and honor to see such vulnerability coming from an individual who was charismatic and oozing with unspeakable rizz. So you continue to listen patiently to see what point your famous friend is making.
“But you disrupted the routine, (Y/N). . . When you came, it felt like I didn’t have to do that anymore. You made me feel free and alive. Allowing me to be my authentic self around our group or just the two of us. But most of all, you made me savor each moment I shared with Suguru, Shoko, and you. I always cherished what I had with them. I cherish what I have had with you over the time I’ve known you. I always did. Maybe that’s why the moon and stars shine brighter when I tell them about you. They know how brightly you shine in the endless sea of regular people. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit you already had my heart. . . And in doing so, I hurt you in ways I couldn’t have imagined. . . I am so sorry I had to make you wait so long, (Y/N).”
You hadn’t realized your tears were cascading down the curves of your cheeks. Was this really happening? Did Satoru just confess to you? You think this is all too good to be true, a scenario you conjured up to cope with hopeless romantic delusions. But his voice was full of raw fondness. His face had this lovesick expression, and his eyes bore sheer devotion as his tears were caught in his eyelashes. He really did feel the same way after all. He would’ve resumed pouring his heart and soul out if you hadn’t firmly pulled him into a tight hug.
Though caught off guard by the gesture, he warmly welcomed it as he returned the action. Tears wet his shirt as you clung to his chest. Satoru lightly kissed your head before cradling it like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. The once-thick tension disappeared, and a comforting warmth blanketed the two of you in its place. You two dared not to pull away, taking in the moment that has caused mental gymnastics for both of you. Eventually, someone had to pull away, and it would be you. You smiled so warmly at him with love-filled eyes. You wipe away Satoru’s tears that continue to fall and hit his glasses.
“. . . I love you too, Satoru. I should also apologize because I didn’t communicate my feelings to you. I was scared of how you would react to my confession. I didn’t want to lose what we had, nor did I want to pressure you into saying yes to spare me the heartache. I also didn’t know how to act when I was with you, and I feared I would look stupid. I shouldn’t have thought the only solution was to cut myself out of your life. Though these are my explanations, they don’t justify my excuses. Please forgive me, Satoru.”
“All is forgiven, Sweetheart. Will you forgive me, too?”
“Of course, Satoru. . .”
Satoru starts to dip his head as you both smile at each other. You were going to let it happen, but a thought came across your mind as you softly stopped Satoru’s head. With a pout, Satoru would ask what was wrong before he was faced with a panicked look.
“Satoru! What about your girlfriend?!”
Satoru blankly stares at you before he starts to chuckle quietly. You were truly a kind person.
“Satoru! I’m being serious! Stop laughing!”
“Oh my dear, (Y/N). You truly have a kind and caring heart. I promise you I’m not cheating on her, nor are you homewrecking. She texted me she found someone else and ghosted me right after. I’m all yours, baby~.”
Satoru waves his hand as he pulls out his phone to show you the proof, as you have always been skeptical of his words. Once you visibly relax, your gaze returns to the big shopping bag Satoru carried around. He already knew what you were going to ask and had an answer.
“Why don’t you take a look and open it yourself, (Y/N)? You did say the bag was my Christmas present for my girlfriend~.”
Your face heats up as Satoru retrieves your Christmas present. He holds it out, and you slowly take it from him. His grin becomes a soft smile at the reaction to the gifts in the bag. You squealed at the massively cute plushie as you gave it a happy squeeze. You gasped and were awed when you pulled out the jacket/sweater, gleefully trying it on.
“Give me a twirl, Love.” On command, you spin yourself so he can see how it captures your figure. Anything does look good on you in his eyes.
“I thought this was sold out, Toru! How did you get your hands on this?!”
“I have my ways. Now open your last gift.”
You go to open your last gift, and how your mouth was opened reassured Satoru that he was the best gift giver in the world. Fingers delicately hold up (favorite jewelry), observing the glow and reflection it gave off. It was gorgeous and unique as it had (favorite gemstone) being the main centerpiece. Only the best for you.
“Satoru, you still remember this?”
“Of course I did!”
“But that was over three months ago. . .”
“I know, (Y/N). But the way your eyes lingered on it when we went to the mall, I always noted it. Plus, I thought it suited you the best, so I had to buy it.”
“Oh, how sweet of you, Satoru. Thank you for the Christmas present. I really love them.”
After returning your gifts to their bag, you walked to your dresser to fish something out. Satoru watches curiously as you pull out a crumpled paper bag. Satoru eyes widened as you handed the bag to him.
“ While they are Christmas gifts, they are technically your birthday gifts. I would’ve given them on your birthday but chickened out when I found out you had a girlfriend. So Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Satoru. They may not be as good as your gifts, but it’s something, right?”
You offer a smile as Satoru opens his gifts. You giggled at his extravagant reactions, praising and adoring his Agumon bracelet that he instantly wore on his wrist proudly. He pulls out the other gift and is shocked to see the drawings of him. The frame fits in his hands as he analyzes each sketch of himself. The detail and precision that went into each told Satoru you took the time and energy to draw him. But it also made him giddy as he looked extremely handsome and good-looking in each of the drawings. It caused him to blush when he realized this was how you see him through your eyes. As he was looking at your drawing page, he noticed the frame’s stand was attached to its sides.
Turning it around, he saw another drawing on the other side. But this sketch made Satoru’s heart beat out of his chest. The page contains only one illustration of two people walking with smiles. However, those two were him and you walking, smiling at each other, and holding each other’s hands. Satoru’s silence did concern you for a bit, but it was shattered when Satoru went in steadfastly to seal the gap between your lips. Your initial shock wore off before you let him reciprocate his kiss. You can feel his soft and smooth lips; he needs to give you his lip care routine. After parting, Satoru leans his head against yours, his arms not unraveling from you.
“No, they are wonderful gifts. Thank you, (Y/N). I love them. . . and I love you.”
“I love you too, Satoru~.”
Basking in each other’s warmth, eliminating the cold and gloomy atmosphere from outside. As much as you wanted to stay together a little longer, the campus would close soon for the rest of the break, and you must leave quickly. You didn’t want to leave Satoru yet, so you tried to extend it as much as possible.
“Hey, Satoru? Can you walk me home? The forecast said the snow will pick up tonight, and I don’t want to go home alone.”
Satoru gives his classic grin before kissing your forehead sweetly.
“I would love to, Sweetheart. I’ll carry your bags while you can hold the umbrella.”
The snow continues to softly fall as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of Tokyo. Although the white puff clouds appeared every time someone spoke and the tips of Satoru’s face were bright red, Satoru never paid attention to the frigid temperatures. Even in this cold white winter, he can see that your bright aura always gave a comforting warmth he yearned for. Making you stand out amongst the sea of passersby, the bright neon lights of Tokyo, and the white dots that continue to cover the city.
The light that shines and gives light to his dull Cerulean sky. Satoru’s world wasn’t grey anymore as he had finally found his light, you.
Bonus:
—A few days later—
“You think they made up, Sugs?”
“Honestly, I hope they do. If not, we’re fucked, Shoko.”
It had been a few days since Shoko and Suguru had last heard from you and Satoru. Neither has responded to your texts as often as usual, making the two nervous. Then Suguru proposed a hangout before New Year's Eve. He didn’t add it in the group chat because he was unaware of the situation. Opting to ask you two individually instead. Even though you two responded, he was unsure if the storm between you two passed over or was still raging on.
However, his initial worries would be meaningless soon enough. As Shoko and Suguru were taking a drag at the meet-up spot, they spotted two figures approaching them. Squinting their eyes to get a better look, they recognized that it was you and Satoru. Their eyes traveled down a bit to see both your hands intertwine. The love that came from Satoru’s smile and your eyes told them everything.
Though the two smiled and high-fived each other, Suguru grinned ear to ear, which earned a frustrated sigh from Shoko. She then reaches into her coat to fish out her wallet.
“I guess I win, Shoko. Hand over that $25 Visa gift card, please?”
#x reader#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#geto suguru#gojo x reader#jujustu kaisen#shoko ieiri#satoru gojo#reader insert#fem reader#x female reader#jjk fluff#jjk angst#satoru x reader#jjk satoru#jjk x you#jjk#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#x y/n#reader x character#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#anime x reader#anime x y/n#anime x female reader#x reader oneshot
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A request throught for billy the kid.
He goes to a bar where a barmaid owns and works there, and they sleep together, and when he comes back, she has a little boy running around that looks a whole lot like him....
girl from the north country — billy bonney
request
i got this ask and my brain immediately went 'bob dylan rendition of girl from north country' because this trope has that song written all over it.
tw— allusions to the deed, hidden baby trope, use of, 'momma' as a pet name.
less than three years ago, you made the grave decision to bed an outlaw. he was sweet and soft with you, sweet talking his way into your britches. it had been a fun night, but despite your delighted evening, a sinking feeling took hold of you the minute he caught your eye.
his name was billy. or at least, he went by billy. he was a mess of dark brown hair, kind blue eyes, and honest nature. it felt like fate when you saw him. he had been sitting at the bar, quiet and lonesome. you found it easy to talk to him.
he had given you a bright smile, engaging you in casual conversation as the night turned to morning. slipping out with you when you closed down the bar, only to follow you up the road to your small homestead.
you had never seen him before, but after he left town, you soon learned exactly who he was. wanted posters with his likeness followed his trail, leaving you tight-lipped about the entire situation.
it was about six months after his visit that your lips finally began to move, coming up with fruitless excuses for the townspeople. by then, your stomach had already started to round, bulging into something plain and inescapable. at first, you were terrified and even considered fleeing to another town and opting to try and pass as a widow. even now, despite yourself, the thought lingers in the back of your mind.
you've been lucky though, the town is nice enough to not ask you questions. just watchful stares and a few upturned noses. you kept your job at the gin mill, working through the night while your married friend watched the baby.
you've found yourself a quiet life—a growing meadow of life hidden in the hellish and desolate west.
with a sigh, you turn your attention back to the clothesline, grabbing at the last of the dry garments and flinging them in your basket. there's a storm brewing close in the distance, and a loud crack of thunder has the small child at your feet fretting.
you pick up your fussy toddler, his pink lips curled into a frown, "c'mon bubba, s'just a little storm."
you glance at the darkening sky, feeling the first droplets of rain on your skin. the wind picks up, causing the clothesline to sway with a creak. cradling your son in your arms, you hurry inside, leaving the clothes in your haste of trying to beat the approaching storm.
inside the cozy warmth of your small homestead, you try to soothe the worried toddler in your arms. the distant rumble of thunder grows louder, and you decide it's best to stay cooped up, work be damned. as you settle into a rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby to the sweet boy in your arms, the rain begins to patter against the window.
the hours pass slowly, the storm raging outside, when a sudden knock on the door startles you. with caution, you approach and peer through the small window and see a tall figure drenched in rain, barely recognizable underneath his sopping hat.
you open the door, and the man looks up. his eyes are kind, and eerily familiar. looking like a drowned man, standing at your door, is billy. he looks apologetic and somewhat sheepish. rainwater drips from the brim of his hat as he mumbles, "m'sorry for showing up like this, i wasn't even sure if you were still here."
you eye him cautiously, memories of your night shared with him resurfacing, but the storm outside softens your resolve, "what brings you here, billy?" you inquire, staring up at the rain-soaked outlaw before you, taking in his genuine expression.
his voice trembles as he confesses that he never meant to stay away for so long— but life on the run has its cruel complications. now, drenched and shivering in the midst of a raging storm, he pleads for refuge in your home, desperation etched onto every word as he begs for forgiveness and a safe haven from his pursuers.
hesitating for a moment, you look back at your toddler playing on the floor. with a sigh, you relent, "alright, billy, you can come in, but just until the storm passes."
as he steps inside, you notice the surprise in his eyes when he sees the boy. he's donned in a darling little linen onesie, your own hands had worked tirelessly over the garment. his bright eyes look between you and billy, the hue of your own eyes evident and the blue of billy's scattered throughout. a perfect blend.
a silence hangs in the air as realization slowly dawns on him. his gaze shifts between you and your little one, and in that moment, he connects the dots.
his voice softens, "is he... is he mine?"
the question sends a shiver down your spine and all of your carefully constructed defenses slowly crumble around you. there's no denying it now, the truth of what had happened was laid bare for both of you to see, innocent face staring up at the both of you. you stand in place, your feet rooted to the ground. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the confession you're about to make. taking a deep breath, you finally relent.
a nod is all you can manage, the weight of the unspoken truth lingering in the room. billy takes a step closer to the little boy and you start. but his intentions are gentle as he reaches out to touch the top of his child's head, "i never knew." he murmurs, a mix of regret and wonder in his eyes.
you watch as billy kneels down to meet your son at eye level. the child looks up at him with innocent curiosity, and you can't help but feel a twinge of anger mixed in with the guilt that had been festering inside of you for so long. you had carried the weight of this secret for years, the fear of the townsfolk finding out and ostracizing you and your child from the community. but looking down at billy's face, you know that it's time to come clean.
"he's almost three now, billy," you say softly, the regret in your own voice almost palpable, "i didn't know how to find you...i didn't even know your name back then."
billy's expression softens as he turns to look at you, his eyes full of sorrow, "i understand," he says, his voice gentle. "m'sorry i wasn't there for you. for both o'you."
you nod, knowing his words are earnest, "you couldn't have known." you say quietly.
billy stands up and walks towards you, his arms open. his eyes are sad, but they hold a fierce longing that you can feel despite any attempt to deny it. his body radiates with a warmth that you can't help but feel drawn to, despite all of the fear and regret that fills your heart. you close your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close.
"i'm sorry," he whispers into your ear. "god, m'so sorry for everything."
you nod, unable to find your voice. the storm outside rages on, but inside, the atmosphere is one of acceptance and forgiveness. you have both been through so much, but now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. you look up into billy's eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.
"i forgave you a long time ago," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "figure i can't keep hiding this little one away from his father. not now, wouldn't be right."
billy nods, his eyes now filled with hope, "i want to be a part of his life, if you'll let me," he says, his voice filled with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine.
you nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, "of course," you say, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and sadness. "he deserves to have his daddy."
billy smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, cupping your cheeks, "what about his momma? seems like she's been gettin' on fine without a man around."
you hum, trying to ignore how easy your heart skips for him, "i reckon she'll make him grovel 'fore she'll be his sweetheart again."
your outlaw lets out a soft chuckle, "then i best get to grovelin', momma."
—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !
#—askolivia !#billy the kid#billy the kid x reader#william h bonney#william h bonney x reader#billy bonney#billy bonney x reader#tom blyth!billy the kid#tom blyth#billy the kid 2022#coriolanus x reader
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the silent storm ; aemond targaryen.
pairing ; aemond targaryen x mute!reader (gender-neutral)
synopsis ; aemond pays you a visit in the library and has a confession to make.
words ; 1.2k
themes ; fluff, mildly suggestive, established relationship (married)
warnings / includes ; mentions of killing/death/violence, reader is one of jasper wylde's many children, aemond being whipped for you <3 also he learned their version of sign language js for you, some kisses but nothing more than that, "i'd burn down the entire world for you" trope, lots of pet names :)
main masterlist.
The candle’s flame warbled as you set it down on the table, bathing the small corner of the library in a dewy, clementine luminescence. You narrowed your eyes at the frayed spines of the arranged historical books, fingers trailing along the dusty shelves.
After several minutes of debating between a tome on the history of dragonkeeping, and a lengthy volume on alchemic remedies, you settled on reading the latter for tonight. You eased down into a rickety wooden chair that did no favors for your back, flipping the old book open with a gentle smile, and began to read.
Not even ten minutes past, your husband’s voice drifted through the library, quietly calling your name.
You reluctantly pulled your attention away from the miraculous works of potions and brews depicted on the yellowing pages, and affectionately rolled your eyes to the side. It was an ongoing joke amongst the court that Aemond physically couldn’t be without you for more than an hour at once. The two of you were scarcely ever seen without one glued to the other’s hip. The Silent Storm and the One-Eyed Dragon, the lords and ladies oft called you and your husband.
With your father, Lord Jasper Wylde, being the Master of Laws, he was usually far too busy for the likes of you. Not to mention that he had four wives and twenty-eight other children to attend to—you were simply known as ‘the quiet one’ in your youth, which soon evolved to the Silent Storm when the court witnessed you beating up one of your older brothers with no restrain when you caught him stealing your coffers, where you kept your silvers.
Imagine your father’s utter shock when Aemond set his sights upon you, proclaiming you to be his almost instantly. Not even three months later, the two of you were wed, and you couldn’t be happier.
“There you are,” the prince said, eye lighting up when he caught sight of you. “I knew I’d find you here.”
You arched a brow. Don’t be so smug. I’m always here, you signed, hands motioning languidly as your lips curved up into an amused grin.
Aemond moved forward to sit beside you, two of his fingers slotting beneath your chin to tilt your face up so he could plant a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. “Yes, yes, you and your beloved books. Hardly a second goes by without your nose buried between pages.”
A humored huff fell from your lungs. You lifted your hands. Sounds like you’re jealous.
Your husband watched you sign, before scoffing. “Me? Jealous of books?”
Worry not, husband. I love you more than I love the library, I promise.
Ironically enough, right after you gestured out your reassurance, you turned right back to your book and began reading once more, missing the tilt of Aemond’s head and the widening, lovesick smile curving the corner of his mouth upward.
“What are you reading?” he asked, peering over your shoulder, before softly laying a kiss against the slope of your neck, lips brushing against the cold metal of the necklace he’d gifted you on your last name day. You smelled of lavender and honey, a scent he’d give anything to drown himself with.
Alchemy, you responded.
“Apologies, my love, I’m afraid I don’t recognize that word,” Aemond whispered into your skin, not unkindly.
You turned back to your husband, eyes soft and patient. You spelled it out for him, having to lightly swat his face away from your neck with a silent laugh just so he’d be able to concentrate.
“Ah, alchemy,” he mumbled, voice rife with affection, drawing you closer to him. “What have I done to deserve someone equally intelligent as they are beautiful?”
Instead of responding, you leaned forward to kiss him, his lips melding gently over yours. You pulled away to plant another kiss to the side of his nose, and a final one right below his leather eyepatch.
I love you, Aemond signed to you, before pressing his enclosed fist right above your beating heart. “Avy jorrāelan. I would burn down the entirety of Westeros at your behest, jelmāzma.” Storm.
I’d rather you not, but thank you for offering, you replied, brows pulling together incredulously and your shoulders shaking with muted chuckles. A brilliant smile flickered over your expression, the shadows of your face elongated with the candlelight. What brings about such a… violent sentiment?
A beat of silence. Aemond seemed hesitant, his hand coming forth to lovingly stroke your cheek, thumb running along your jaw.
“Promise you won’t be mad at me.”
You blinked at him in a miffed fashion, then narrowed your eyes accusingly. What did you do?
Aemond winced. There was a reason why the court called you the Silent Storm. “Promise me first, darling,” he said, trying his best to placate you.
Fine, sure, I promise. Your gaze was sharp, and Aemond already had a feeling that your words were empty.
“Well, I was training with Criston when I overheard two bumbling, foolish lords passing by—and they were talking about you. Naturally, I stopped sparring and listened to their conversation. It was… an improper debate about whether or not you’d make sound in bed.”
You sighed, used to the giggles and whispers behind your back. The lords and ladies often forgot that just because you were mute, didn’t mean you couldn’t hear them, either.
You killed them, then?
“I killed them,” Aemond confirmed, looking none too sorry about it, either. “Slit both of their throats. I couldn’t stand by and just listen to them insult you in such a way.”
They were jesting! you hurriedly signed, frustrated that your husband had taken such drastic measures without confronting you first. That is what men do, they jest and they speak ill-will and they are pigs about it! There is naught that we can do about their behavior other than a slap on the wrist—you cannot just kill anybody who gets on your nerves! Swear that you won’t do it again. Swear it, Aemond!
“But they were—”
You held a warning finger up, effectively halting him in his protests. The glare you had fixed on him held the intensity of a thousand hurricanes. And what was a dragon in comparison to the might of a storm?
“Yes, my love,” Aemond reluctantly said, biting down on his tongue.
The anger melded over your visage seemed to melt away at his relatively easy acquiescence.
Good boy, you teasingly signed, which earned you a light, ticklish pinch of retaliation to your side. I love you, too, by the way. But if you take another undeserving soul again—I’m going to have to reconsider.
A deep hum fell from his throat, and you were about to gesture some more warnings (borderline threats), but the thoughts were dashed from your mind when he surged forward to kiss you, pushing you up against the bookshelf. His large, spindly hands splayed over your waist and curved along your back.
“Alchemy can wait, can’t it?” he murmured into you, nearly dizzy with yearning.
You shook your head with an exasperated beam, before pulling him forward by the lapels of his coat and slanting your lips against his once again.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond fluff#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x reader#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfiction#hotd fluff#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen fanfic#house of the dragon fluff#house of the dragon x reader#hotd x reader#aemond targaryen
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Would u please do Arlecchino adopting a reader? I just want to be adopted by our dearest Arlecchino
warmth.
summary. arlecchino's warmth is quite an effective repellent for snezhnaya's everlasting cold.
trigger & content warnings. home invasion, gunshots are mentioned, a bit of violence in general, reader's parents are murdered (not by arlecchino) but it is non-descriptive and reader does not witness it.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort, found family-ish. arlecchino & child!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.
author's thoughts. hehehehehe arle <3 i was supposed to write a fic featuring kafka (hsr) today in celebration of her coming home. Erm. yeah. That did not happen! clearly. /lh
It happened all too quickly.
It truly was a peaceful night, just like any other. The fire crackled on soothingly in the background, shadows dancing on the walls, and the warmth staving off the frigid cold that was all but characteristic of Snezhnaya's nights. Peering out the window would reveal the light, steady snowfall; typically, more blizzard-like conditions would be present, but perhaps the Tsaritsa was in quite a good mood that night in particular, for the snow was gentle in its falling and the winds did not rage on cruelly, biting and nipping angrily at any unfortunate person caught out in the middle of the storm.
Their mother hummed a soft lullaby to them as her calloused fingers, all thanks to years of sewing and hunting combined, rubbed up and down their back. Their father had been in the kitchen—cooking was a responsibility shared between their parents (and really, how could he have asked his wife to move when their beloved, sweet child was half-asleep on her lap? That was a /far/ too wicked request. No, he would not dare disturb theirs and their mother's peace).
...And in a split second, it had all come crumbling down.
Someone's weight was thrown against the door, causing a loud slam! to resonate within the walls.
Once, and their mother sprung up, jerking them awake with her motions. In their half-asleep state, they hardly understood what was going on as their father rushed defensively out of the kitchen with an axe.
Twice, and their mother gathered them in her arms before darting towards the back of the house—the absolute farthest end—at her husband's command. She rushed into one of the bedrooms, swiftly ripping the closet door open and pushing them in, insisting quietly that they hid among the pile of thick winter coats where they would not be seen.
"You just have to hide for a little, okay?" she murmured softly, deft hands pulling coats over their little body and face. "And remember—stay quiet, okay? Shh."
At the end of her sentence, she made a shushing motion with a shaky, trembling smile.
Perhaps it was her attempt at soothing them, but children are often not so easily fooled. The gesture did naught to calm their pounding heart. She had done her best to look certain and reassuring, but all it did was make them all the more terrified.
Their mother stood up, closing the closet door only slightly; it may look suspicious if it had been closed completely, she thought.
Then, she was gone, and they were left only with the company of their thoughts.
It was mostly quiet for a few minutes. They could vaguely make out the muffled sounds of talking—fighting, more accurately. It sounded angry. As if these invasive strangers were demanding something.
They choked back a sob as the walls shook around them due to the noise. A scream, then a gunshot, then another, and then silence.
Through the silence, they could discern the sound of wet slicing. Their heart dropped further into the endless pit of their stomach as they tried their best to curl further into themselves and the pile of coats.
Click, click, click...
Heels, gradually getting louder as their wearer approached. Someone was coming. Someone was going to find them.
It all happened far too quickly.
...And now, before them, none other than the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers was kneeled. It was not hard for her to find them, not with all their shuffling and shaking and heavy, anxious breathing.
Interestingly, she was far less threatening than what they thought she might be. They didn't doubt that she had the capacity to be absolutely horrifying, but with them...
"You can come out now," she encouraged. Her tone could hardly be described as forceful; if anything, she was... suprisingly gentle. Patient, even, as she held out her hand invitingly. It was as if she were coaxing a frightened animal out from its hiding place. "There is no longer anything to be afraid of."
Still, they hesitated. "Where—" Their throat was dry with terror and their little voice trembled as it came out. With shaking hands, they moved some of the coats off of them. The Knave did note, however, that they clung to one particlar coat; it must have belonged to one of their parents, if she had to guess. Children clung onto sentimental items like that. They swallowed and tried again: "Where are my parents?"
"They are no longer with us. I am sincerely sorry. Had I arrived sooner, they might have lived."
A tremble shook their whole body—whether it was from the cold seeping into their house through the open front door (though the room they were in was a few twists and turns in a hallway away, the Snezhnayan cold was a unique beast in that it could turn a house frigid in a matter of seconds) or from grief, they could not be sure.
"Where..." They sniffled, hands balled into small fists as they tried to rub away the tears gathering in their eyes. "What do I do? I don't wanna be alone..."
"You won't be," Arlecchino said. "You will come with me. You will never be alone again."
All they could do was stumble out of the closet, coat held firmly in their hands and nod. Where else were they supposed to go? Furthermore, how were they meant to say no to a Fatui Harbinger? She was kind enough to offer to take them somewher, and truly, anywhere would have been better than the cold and lonely house in which their parents were killed.
Though, it was greatly debatable whether the Fourth was being kind or opportunistic.
At their young age, they couldn't wrap their mind around any ulterior motives she may have had. They could not so much as consider such a thing, not when she so kindly and tenderly took the coat from their hands, wrapped it around their shivering body, and hoisted them up into her arms. She radiated a warmth that they could not help but lean into, head coming to rest on her squared and confident shoulder. It was not so unbearbly cold when they were in her arms.
One might regard her mannerisms... parental, as if she had great experience with young children and their needs. It surely seemed so, considering how effortlessly and fluidly she handled them. It was like she had done it a million times before.
Indeed, it would not be surprising if that were the case.
Arlecchino hummed, adjusting their weight in her arms slightly.
Then, her nails softly raked over their head and through their hair. Her smooth, self-assured voice reached their ears with a command they could not deny or resist:
"Rest for now, little one."
please consider reblogging with kind tags or comments, it helps me out quite a lot!
#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#platonic genshin x reader#platonic genshin impact#platonic genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#arlecchino x reader#fatui#fatui harbingers#fatui harbingers x reader#platonic fatui harbingers x reader#platonic arlecchino x reader#genshin platonic#platonic genshin
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Mei!! You’re one of my fav writers!
Can you do a fratboy!Hotch x reader with the typical date to bet trope but then he sees reader on a case with the BAU years later and tries to get reader back??
thank you so much!!! i liked this request sm actually this was so neat <3
--
"Excuse me," A voice calls from behind you, deep and stern, "Are you Y/N Y/L/N?"
You turn at the counter, meeting the eyes of a man that looks eerily familiar. His dark hair matches his eyes, equally inky black. His nose is sharp, his brows set in a perpetual frown- that wasn't there 20 years ago. All at once his younger self floods back to you in memories you'd rather forget, and your chest tightens at the sight of Aaron Hotchner standing in front of you.
"I am," You nod once, "How may I help you?"
He seems just as floored by the sight of you as you are of him. Evidently, he hadn't remembered your name, not that you're surprised. He falls silent, eyes flooded with nostalgia, and his partner, a broad-shouldered man steps in when he doesn't.
"Uh, I'm Agent Derek Morgan with the FBI, and this is Agent Hotchner. we're looking for this man." He slides a photo over the counter of your cafe, a man you recognize having spoken to only hours prior, "Have you seen him?"
"I have," You nod, keeping your eyes firmly and pointedly off of Aaron, "He came in a few hours ago. He was- weird. He kept asking if he could make his own coffee. Like- come behind the counter and do it himself. He said no one else could make it right."
"What did he do when you refused?" Aaron pipes back up, and you study the picture instead of meeting his eyes.
"He knocked that table over," You point to the now right-side-up table, "It had some woman's drink on it, and a baby's bottle. And of course he didn't offer to mop up the spills. He just stormed out."
Agent Morgan nods, solemnity written on his face, "Alright, thank you for the information. Is there any chance we could get a look at your security cameras?"
"Of course," You step aside to let them pass, something you'd been asked to do twice in one day, and they file behind the counter towards the kitchen.
"They're behind the stoves," You call as Agent Morgan parts the curtain, "And one door past the bathroom!"
"Thank you," Agent Morgan calls, already headed for the room. Agent Hotchner lingers, and your stomach drops.
"Y/N," He calls cautiously, "Do you recognize me? We've met before."
"We've more than met," You scoff, "I don't think I could forget you if I tried, Aaron."
He tries taking it as a joke, rolling with the gut punch you've given him, "I wasn't sure. I've aged poorly, at least since we've last seen each other."
"You'd think I'd be the one stuck with frown lines," You grumble, flicking a crumb of what was probably a blueberry muffin off of the counter while avoiding his eyes.
"I'm glad you're not." Aaron murmurs, speaking to your back, "Y/N, I'm sorry for the way I treated you back then. I'm- a different person now. I was irresponsible and self-centered in college, and I'm sorry that you fell victim to that."
"I'm sure you wouldn't make the same mistake twice," You hum, noting that the pressed suits and neat hair are far different from the man you'd known in your Youth, "But I don't think I'd give you the chance to this time around."
He pauses, and you hear Agent Morgan in the back room, fiddling with your camera system. Finally he nods, you see it in your peripheral vision, "I understand. Um- thank you, for your help on this case. We're a lot closer to catching him with the footage I'm sure your cameras caught."
"I'm glad," You nod, "He was an asshole. Trust me, I've met a few before."
The comment stings like a whip, burning his cheeks and stabbing at his chest. He deserves it, or maybe past Aaron deserves it, but he wasn't lying. He's different now.
"You have. And I'm sorry. Really, I- I wish I could go back in time. And not take that money. And not make that bet. You were worth far more than money, and you still are."
"I appreciate your apology," You admit, finally glancing him in the eye. It's only for a split second, then Agent Morgan re-emerges, "I never thought I'd get one."
"Me either," Aaron breathes, and you watch Agent Morgan's eyes flicker between the two of you, "Well, um, thank you. For your help. It was nice to see you again, Y/N."
"I was happy to help. It was... nice. To see you too, Aaron. Agent Morgan," You nod at the man, who's studying you like a textbook, "I hope you can use the footage."
"It's perfect," He smiles, digging through his pocket and dropping a rumpled $20 into your tip jar, "Excellent service."
"Ah, thank you," You laugh, leaning against the counter as they make their way out towards the door, "FBI Agents eat free, if you find this guy anytime soon."
"Much appreciated," Agent Morgan grins, waving goodbye as Aaron smiles. It's real, genuine, and something you thought you'd never see again, if the ones you'd seen in your youth even were real or genuine.
"So," Morgan drawls as soon as the doors to the coffee shop shut, "You two know each other?"
"We met in law school." Aaron hums, tone clipped. When Morgan doesn't respond, Aaron admits gruffly, "We went out on a few dates."
"No way!" Morgan whoops, clapping Hotch on the back, "An old flame! Hey, Hotch, you gotta get her back! She said we eat free, head over tomorrow for breakfast."
"She's not interested," Hotch shakes his head, "She wouldn't be. Things ended... poorly."
"Aw, it's nothing you can't fix," Derek reasons, "Twenty years later? Hotch, I'm telling you, you gotta go see her. I'll bet you twenty bucks you can get a date with her first try."
Aaron tastes the bitter, metallic blood that coats his tongue from the puncture in his cheek. He stops dead in his tracks, hearing the ghost of his frat brothers in Derek's ill-timed statement.
"Hotch?" Morgan realizes he's stopped walking, glancing back at his Unit Chief with a frown, "You okay?"
Aaron takes one, two, three deep breaths, then buries his self-loathing deep inside, where it's lived for years and only recently bubbled back up to the surface.
"Don't say that." He orders, tone sharp and leaving no room for argument, "Stop. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
This time it's Morgan that stands frozen, dumbfounded, while Hotch powers on down the sidewalk. He reaches the SUV, storming to the driver's side door and slamming it behind him so hard that the car rocks.
"Jesus," Derek mumbles below his breath, "Garcia, you're gonna have a lot of digging on your plate to figure this one out."
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction#aaron hotchner angst
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Being Jschlatts S/O Includes (Hc) …
Shout out to my babe @lvrj4mie for the amazing ideas ILY POOKIE
Pairing: Schlatt x Y/n
Type: Fluff
▷ He’s very protective over you. Not in an unhealthy “you can’t leave” way, more of a “if anyone hurts you they’re dead” way.
▷ You have a drawer of your things at his place. After you began dating and practically spent every day at his house, he insisted that you keep a drawer of your belongings at his place.
▷ Receiving occasional bursts of affection from him. It's as if he can't contain his love and excitement, especially during those moments when he's feeling particularly affectionate. You could be sitting on the couch and he’ll just immediately smother you and attack your face with kisses… not that you mind.
▷ Definitely the Black Cat x Golden Retriever couple trope.
▷ Schlatt can be a chaotic and unpredictable character, but you're there to provide stability and calm in his life. You help balance his hectic lifestyle and remind him to take care of himself. You’re the calm in his storm.
▷ Despite his tough guy exterior, he's rather tender-hearted, especially when it comes to you.
▷ Spoils the shit out of you. Whatever you want he gets, even though you insist he doesn’t need to get you anything/you don’t want anything. He does it anyways.
▷ Introvert and Extrovert Balance. If Schlatt leans toward extroversion and you are more of an introvert (or vice Versa), you find a harmonious balance. He brings you out of your shell, and you provide him with moments of quiet reflection.
▷ Stealing his hoodies/shirts.
"Hey, toots, have you seen my..." Schlatt's words trailed off as he caught sight of you comfortably seated on the couch, wearing his oversized hoodie while engrossed in your game. Due to his substantial stature, his clothes practically swamped you, with sleeves rolled up twice for a better fit.
"Is that my hoodie?" he asked, a playful smirk on his face.
You nodded, a hint of mischief in your eyes. "Yeah, it is. I can take it off if you don't want me to wear it."
He shook his head, a fond smile spreading across his face. "No, no, it's okay. You look good in my clothes." He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your neck.
▷ He has so many nicknames for you. Toots (obviously), sweetheart, babe, I could also definitely see him call his partner pet.
▷ Comfort in silence. Whether you’re watching him edit, gaming in the same room, or simply sitting together silently on the couch, you didn’t need words to communicate. There's a comfortable silence that speaks volumes about your connection and comfort with each other.
▷ His cats absolutely ADORE you… Maybe more than him.
▷ Late night food runs. Due to the nature of his job, Schlatt has a lot of late nights editing videos or planning future projects. On those particularly stressful nights, which is often, you like to suggest a late night food run to clear his mind. He always agrees as it’s an excuse to spend some quality time with you… and get food.
▷ You shamelessly tease him in a playful manner, fully aware that you can get away with it.
▷ Contrary to popular opinion I think he’s quite affectionate, at least behind closed doors. He’s always got a hand on your thigh, laying on your chest, or some sort of touch.
▷ You’re definitely ‘Those pet parents’ with Jambo and Burnt soup. They’re basically like your children, making you the perfect happy family.
#chuckle sandwich#chuckle sammy#jschlatt x reader#jschlatt imagines#ted nivison x reader#jschlatt fluff#jschlatt angst#jschlatt headcanons#jschlatt hcs#jschlatt imagine#jschlatt fanfic#hc#schlatt hcs#schlatt imagine#schlatt x reader#schlatt#jschlatt x you#jschlatt#chuckle sandwich x reader
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She Was Only Ever Mine
(not my gif)
WARNING: MINORS DNI, smut suggestive ending, jealous!emily, angst, mean!emily, flirty!emily/r, possessive!emily, alcohol consumption, brief mention of firearms, blood, one bed trope
req: So it’s Emily Prentiss x fem!reader and this is one of my first asks so idk if I’ll get picked or wtv but I appreciate your time anyway! :)
So, maybe there’s a one bed trope somehow in this? But maybe during a case r and Em have to be roomies :) the team has just finished the case and is out for drinks, r suspiciously keeps getting alerts on her phone which the team is obviously curious about. Basically Emily hates r’s guts and r never figures out why despite her attempts at trying to befriend the woman. Bar after the case and Tara flirts with r because she knows Emily will get jealous and most likely confess
Long fic! Buckle up! (Not my best fic and was rushed pls forgive me)
Emily grumbled as she board the plane. This was absolute nonsense, of course she had to share a one bed hotel room with y/n. The woman was insufferable, smiling and prancing everywhere she went.
No words could describe the dread she felt everyday walking into work and seeing the prissy Princess, thank the Lord JJ would leave a coffee on her desk every morning, though, it’s strange she only started doing it after y/n came on the team..
Emily shook the thought off and continued her last page of paperwork. Signing off on it and pushing it aside. Checking the time she place a few more extra things in her go bag.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in!” The Unit Chief exclaimed, never lifting her eyes from her bag, a certain ‘prissy princess’ popped her head in with a bright smile. “Care for coffee?” she quipped, hoping for a yes, although, deep down, she knew she’d be rejected.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with you in public, princess” She had assigned her that nickname the minute she walked through the doors of the BAU. Her demeanor had screamed Disney Princess. Y/n frowned but slapped inside holding two coffee cups, “Thought so, I got you coffee anyways, Wicked Witch of the West” The younger woman smirked, when Emily’s mouth dropped open, “I’ll let you take that one, but I will get you back for that.” She warned, taking a sip of the warm liquid, she hummed in approval, “you know my order…do you stalk me, Princess?” Emily teased, y/n rolled her eyes as she sat down on the chair infront of the chief’s desk. “I wouldn’t dream of it”
—————
“Ugh, why are you so annoying?” The unit chief complained, the Young woman behind her bit her lip to hold back from saying something that could land her at a desk job, “why are you so mean?” Y/n retorted, crossing her arms as she stormed past the woman for what seemed like the 40th time that day. Not even the slightest moment of peace lasted, not when these two were in the same room. JJ and Tara looked at each other and sighed, “y’know, Em, you’ve gotta be nice to her some day” JJ lectured, her motherly tone popping out, Tara followed y/n into the jet.
Lord knows what’ll happen now that Emily and Y/n have to room together.
”Hey, y/n, you okay?” Tara cooed, noticing y/n’s angry gaze and sniffles, “I’m here if you need to talk.” Sitting down she gave the woman a sincere look, Tara had always been kind to her since her arrival at the BAU, even showed her the ropes and policies. “It’s just..I dunno, I’m so frustrated!” she exclaimed, picking at the skin around her nails, “I haven’t done anything to her! At least nothing that I know of”
JJ and Emily entered the jet last and Emily sat quietly next to y/n with an angry look, they both tensed, refusing to look at each other in any way.
Clearly both JJ and Tara were weirded out with the tension and moved to the seats next to them, just to give them a little room. The guys were upfront talks about who knows what, while the back was as silent as a mouse.
Emily glanced over to seeing y/n looking out the window and picking around the skin around her fingers. The older woman hated to admit it but she felt bad, she always did, but being the stubborn woman she was, never apologized, at least verbally.
Placing a soft hand on y/n thigh, she gave it a little squeeze as an ‘I’m sorry.’ Looking at the hand, y/n only scoffed, “Y/n..” Emily pleaded softly, looking at her with sincere regret in her eyes, “What, Emily?” Y/n turned, her eyes filled with annoyance, “Look, I’m-“ Emily looked down to see a red substance start to seep out of y/n’s finger, “Hey! Don’t pick at it, here, I’ll get you a band aid, she hurriedly dug in her bag for one and unwrapped it carefully, “I told you to stop, you’ll hurt yourself!” She tsked, trying to get the medical wrap to stick, “there, that’s better,” she smiled softly trying to not show too much tenderness, looking at the woman infront of her who held a curious expression, “Thank you, Emily.” The gray haired woman simply nodded, not saying another word.
Time passed quickly and upon landing, the team was debriefed by local police men, “and you’ve confirmed that this is him?” Emily stated, pointing to their Unsub who’s face on the paper, which was very clearly out in the open, “Yes Ma’am, we have agents stationed outside of his living area within a 100 acre radius.” The investigator replied, handing her the file, the team all sighed, they all could rest tonight, after weeks of intel gathering and tracking down some of the most evasive killers they’ve got their Unsub bagged. Tommorow was the night of a gala were several owners of various big name companies would attend. It was there where they would make an arrest.
It just so happend that their Unsub was Damian Frazier, a very charming man who killed his way to the top of the food chain. He had some connection which is how he evader for so long, but now they had to only wait one more day.
———
“Alright, I think I’ve about finished my report, I’m gonna call it a night” JJ groaned, Spencer following swiftly behind, Rossi sneaking with him. Tara stood up and straightened her shirt, “Yeah! I think I’m gonna hit the hay too, Luke, Matt” she said through gritted teeth, they looked at the woman confused before mouthing ‘ohhhhh’s. Sometimes, the two shared the same brain cell and it took for them to look at each other before realizing. The last three quickly excused themselves, getting the Assignment.
The team had took it upon themselves to start Project Cupid, amazing name, right?
Well, Garcia thought so, she made it up with an excited expression on her face. The plan was to do everything possible to get Emily and Y/n to realize their feelings for each other. That meant booking hotel rooms so the two had to room together.
“Ugh, why am I always stuck with you?” Emily sneered, writing a little more aggressively on her paper, y/n stayed silent, tired of the woman’s antics. She only tried distracting herself, in this case, it was by texting someone to keep her occupied.
Isobel Castille had been a good friend of hers for a while, they dared for precisely 3 months before moving on with their lives, realizing that they weren’t meant to be. That didn’t stop them from being close, no, it encouraged them to confide in each other. Y/n laughed at a joke her friend sent, Emily lifted her head and her jaw clearly tensed, “Holding out on me, Princess?” She commented, seemingly not caring about who was making her smile brightly. “Huh? Oh, it’s no one. You done?”
———
It was obvious now that the two had a…special relationship, they argue but it never got too heated. Prentiss had known when she crossed a line and apologized, non-verbally most of the time. But over this, said time, Emily developed a few feeling that she might’ve shoved down. It had just been 2 days after their last case, and Emily began to freak out about The events that unraveled at the hotel.
~~~
“You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the floor?” Y/n asked, making sure that she wouldn’t be making the gray haired woman anymore grump in the morning, “Yeah, Princess, just sleep so I don’t have to hear you squeaking.”
Y/n shrugged, pulling the covers over her as Emily silently read her book her glasses resting on the brdge of her nose.
Before they knew it, both were fast asleep, the issue was, in the morning they had awoken tangled in each other’s arms, both also afraid to admit that it was the best night’s sleep they’d gotten in a while.
They very quickly pulled away, Emily being the first to zoom out of the comforting bed. Y/n laid motionless for a few minutes, replaying the memory of Emily’s warm and soft skin on hers.
She knew this was messed up, Emily hated her, why should she be so attracted to someone who wouldn’t want her in a million years?
Before she started to spiral she brought up the courage to get out of bed and dress. It wasn’t flashy but she wore a tight fit long-sleeve and boot cut jeans that fit her well. She finished it off with a necklace that Tara had gifted her for her birthday and earrings.
Emily came out of the bathroom and tried to stop her lingering gaze, but she couldn’t hold back the way her eyes took in the sight before her. “What? Is it that bad?” Y/n questioned, crossing her arms in discomfort, clearly concious of the way Emily thinks of her.
The profiler immediately sense a change in tone and posture, “No, you look, good.” The corner’s of her lips turned up slightly in a almost invisible smile, not waiting for her response but swiftly moving across the room to retrieve her phone and badge.
———
The day went by quickly with the arrest going smoothly actually, not wanting to embarass himself further than he already had. Damian took the cuffs willingly but not without cursing the government, of course.
“Drinks on me?” Rossi asked, smiling as the team cheered, the weeks had been long but all became worth it in the end. It was safe to say that, good work was done and a reward was certainly due.
“Hey, y/n can I talk to you before we leave for the bar?” Tara asked, gently placing her hand on the woman’s bicep. “Uhm, Yeah, sure!” She smiled, walking with Tara away from the group, JJ smirked as she elbowed Garcia signalling that their plan was in motion.
The bubbly blonde spoke up, “Oh, aren’t Tara and Y/n just so cute?” Penelope felt excitement rush through her veins as Emily looked over with a blank expression. It was clear she was trying to stay composed, but her tensed jaw betrayed her. “I guess so, but y/n could do better” she said through gritted teeth, JJ cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eye, “Like who, Em?”
“Erm-“
“Em! You ready?” Y/n seemed a bit more joyful which made Emily worry about what they talked about. “Uh, Yeah, Princess, let’s go” this time, Prentiss said it with a softness in her tone, which of course made y/n’s heart race.
Tara had pulled y/n aside to tell her the plan, Emily did like her, you couldn’t hide anything from a team of profilers.
Now, y/n just had to play along like she didn’t know anything.
Emily shockingly accompanied y/n home since she knew she had left some clothes at her place. “You still have this shirt? No wonder why I couldn’t find it” Emily laughed as she brought the shirt up to her body and made a duck face. Y/n snorted as she put on some flare leggings and Emily’s old sweat shirt. “Okay, this is nice!” She said in the mirror coming into the bathroom where Emily was fixing her hair.
“Uhm, excuse me, miss, that’s my sweatshirt” she teased, pulling at it, slowly bit her lip as she took the woman in front her in. She ran a hand down her arms and gave a cocky smirk. “well, you look good in it” she assured, y/n couldn’t help but bask in the section cheif’s affection. Something that felt so foreign, yet, meant to be.
——
“There they are!” Luke beamed, everyone turning their heads immediately to the two. “Hey, y/n” Tara friendly greeted, but her stance suggested she wanted something more. With a deep breath y/n ripped herself from Emily’s hands and gravitated toward the doctor. “Tara, I’m practically peeing myself right now, what if if doesn’t work!” Y/n exclaimed, though her tone was hushed careful not to let Emily hear.
Speaking of the woman, she was conversing with Rossi and Simmons while she almost always had her eyes on you and Tara. It angered her the way that Tara could make her seem so comfortable and free so quickly. Perhaps it was a consequence for not dealing with her feelings sooner.
“Emily, if you keep staring I think you’ll actually burn a hole through her.” Rossi chuckled, giving the woman a nudge, she only chuckled half-heartedly, Simmons spoke up with a hand to her shoulder.
“What’s up?”
“I think I like y/n, it’s just that I know she doesn’t like me, I mean look at her and Tara” she admited, looking down at her drink swirling it around her cup. Rossi and Simmons looked at each other like they just got a coldblooded killer to confess to their crimes.
“Well, maybe if you just talk to her. It’ll help, before Tara makes a real move” Matt said, slowly pushing her over, Tara noticed a certain woman coming over and placed a hand on y/n’s waist and pulled her closer, “play along” she whispered, y/n nodded slightly and let out a laugh.
Emily scoffed, it should be her holding you like that not Tara.
“Oi, Princess, over here!” She stood with her arms crossed, y/n giddily walked over, but of course conceal if her excitement.
“Yeah? You okay, Emily? We can leave-“
“I want you, Y/n. I need you! I know I was so rude to you and I never told you why, but I just didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I love you, I mean it and I get it if you like Tara because she’s just amazing and I’m an asshole, I hope you can-“ as Emily rambled, not meeting y/n’s loving gaze, she kissed her first to shut her up. “You’re good, I like Tara, really. But, I love you”
Emily couldn’t stop the heat growing in her cheeks, or the way her lips bended into a wide smile.
Maybe this could work.
#emily prentiss x reader#criminal minds#david rossi#penelope garcia#tara lewis#luke alvez#matt simmons#maggie bell#I don’t know how to feel about this#she’s my wife
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Love Lost! | LN4
Lando Norris x Reader
Warnings: A little bit of the feels, jealous!Lando, hurt/comfort, happy ending, a little bit of drunken confessions but not really, childhood bestfriends to lovers bcs i love that trope.
WC: ~3.2K
Hiya, it's been a few weeks. I've been really busy and kinda lost my inspo to write, so this is me dipping my toe back in. Hopefully it's ok. NOT EDITED (not much has changed huh)
There comes a point in every young person's life where they must look back at what they have done and realise how they could’ve done it greater. Done it faster. Done it kinder. Done it better. Whether it be a choice, an action, or some words, reflection and acknowledgement are key milestones in the development of a person's life.
Lando has had many of these moments. Such as when he had first set foot in a kart, he should’ve done it earlier. His debut season, he should’ve done it better. His schooling, he should’ve put more effort in. The realization of his feelings for his childhood best-friend, he should’ve done it faster.
It was all he could think as his eyes caught you at the bar with some random nobody leaning over your side, obviously trying to chat you up. He took a sip of his surprisingly bitter drink as he watched. The drink shouldn’t have been bitter, it was some fruity cocktail he’d bought for you before you’d arrived, but the look you were giving the guy who you were talking to certainly made it so.
The tightening of his chest went unaddressed as his first clenched around the glass stem, his mind begging to ignore the way your smile had shifted from the fake one you gave to creeps to one not dissimilar from the way you smiled at him. An elbow jolted into his side, causing his eyes to draw away from the bar, though his mind remained around 15 feet away.
One of his mates, some guy he’d met a week ago who wasn’t after his money but wouldn’t say no to sixteen free drinks, looked at him concerned. Atleast Lando thought the look was concerned, he couldn’t exactly tell as the guy's face was hidden behind a pair of douchey shades. He shouldn’t think that though, he probably owned at least ten pairs that looked the exact same.
The guy moved his head again in a silent gesture and Lando nodded, hiding his suffering behind the pretense of not stopping this guy from getting laid, returning the silent gesture. He then shrugged before moving on, quickly running up to a group of girls and placing his arms around the shoulders of two, leaving Lando to continue stewing.
Really, it wasn’t stewing. He had no reason to ‘stew’. He’d only discovered he’d felt this way recently, he hadn’t been silently grudging for years. However, as his eyes moved back to the bar and watched as the guy's hand slid from your shoulder to your back, he could definitely feel the pot boiling over within him.
You hadn’t moved though, there was no indication that you were uncomfortable from your body language, so Lando had to accept that he wasn’t able to intervene. He trusted you as much as he liked you unfortunately, so he knew that you’d walk away or even signal if you didn’t like where this was going. He couldn’t rush in and be a knight in shining armour if there was no damsel in distress, no matter how much he hated it.
He slid down in his seat, trying not to appear too stalkerish to any people at the club as he watched the two of you interact. Last thing he wanted was rumors of him being a voyeur spreading around the media. It wouldn’t be too far off with the way the guy you were talking to was going. His hand was still sliding lower, moving from your mid back all the way down till it met the seat of the chair.
Lando could hardly hear the music pumping through the club, only focused on your body language. One slight flinch or look of discomfort and Lando would take that as his cue to storm over and create such a row that he would be heard in Azerbaijan.
However, you didn’t move away. Lando could only watch as you adjusted in your seat, letting the guy's hand slide under your behind. You definitely didn’t need any help. The drink tasted almost acidic when Lando next took a sip, forcing himself to turn away from the bar. He came here for a good time, he didn’t need to see you getting it on.
He cleared his throat, though no one could hear him and no one had even paid attention to him in an hour. A quick glance around the club confirmed this, people engaged with their own activities while he was sat, watching someone he was in love with get hit on.
That’s not pathetic, is it? Lando thought it would be more pathetic if he acted on his impulses, walked over and stopped the random guy in his tracks. You’d probably be mad (would you?) and he didn’t think he could deal with it. Especially after watching what was happening in front of him.
I mean, you’d definitely been mad at him before, knowing a person for over a decade does that to someone, but he didn’t know how mad you would be. He’d never been in this situation before, one where he had to put his drink down and sit on his hands to stop them from punching the guy in the face.
The fact that this was one hundred percent not healthy was all that Lando could think. He shouldn’t be putting himself through this, watching someone else touch you how you wanted to be touched. How he wanted to touch you.
God, he should leave. There was no point in staying here just to torture himself. He was a voyeur, not a sadist. He took a breath before chugging the drink you had insisted you couldn’t have because you wanted to pay for your own and then standing up and lumbering his way to the exit.
Doing the responsible thing, he arranged for an uber as he walked down the corridor to the door. The fresh air that greeted him sent a wave of feeling down his spine. He walked further away from the cue to get into the club, praying that no one would recognise him as he walked.
Luckily, no one did. Lando didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse.
It’s a funny thing, that. Lando normally liked being in the spotlight. Maybe it was growing up always being unwittingly compared to others, but he liked being special. Even in times Lando didn’t want to be recognised, because he truly didn’t at the moment, he still craved that little serotonin boost whenever someone would turn to him with stars in their eyes.
It felt nice to be revered, nice to be seen as greater, all those things he didn’t consider himself. You’d always provided that for him. He didn’t want to come off as shallow or as a user, but your everlasting presence in his life, your consistent praise, had always made him feel good.
God, that did make him come off as shallow. It went without saying, he thought, that he always tried to return the favour. The way you always smiled bashfully in response to his compliments always made his day brighter.
He almost swore out loud into the empty street as he walked. He should’ve realised earlier. He’d never taken himself as the boy-next-door type, mostly because he was always someplace else, but the idea of domesticity with a person who he’d always been around, especially since it was you, made him feel incredibly warm inside.
A warmth he doesn’t feel often. It had only come around a few times in his life, but the most notable would’ve had to have been around two weeks earlier. He was just lying in bed, you on the phone rambling about whatever you were now interested in.
Every one of his responses were some variation of “yeh” but that didn’t stop you. Eventually you’d tired yourself out and Lando had finally got a word in. He’d made some tired quip about you “never shutting up”. You’d responded in like, a joke about him not being able to keep up. You’d gone back and forth with your banter before eventually you’d both called it quits and said goodnight.
Lando hadn’t even registered the fact he was about to say “I love you” as a sign-off before you’d hung up on him until the quiet beeping of his phone sounded. That had made him really, truly think about your years-long friendship, pondering about whether he had meant that platonically or romantically.
It hadn’t taken long for him to figure it out. After ten minutes an itching had settled in his mind that he should call you back and force you to continue talking. He missed your voice, even if it was you ranting about something he had no idea about. Even the thought of it had inspired a familiar warm feeling to bloom within him.
The warm feeling had still been present in the club, even if it was accompanied by the crushing weight of feeling mediocre. Lando almost scoffed at himself as he mindlessly kicked a rock as he walked.
His earlier thoughts ran through his mind, cursing himself for thinking it pathetic to try and stand up for his own feelings. He should’ve said something at any point. Now you were probably dancing with the guy, ignoring the fact that Lando wasn’t even in the club.
That wasn’t true, of course. You were too kind. Something that Lando had always appreciated but made it incredibly hard in situations such as this one. The buzzing of his phone alerted him to this, a single text from you reading ‘Where r u?’
Completely inconspicuous but oh so characteristic. The shorthand made it clear you were busy, you were never one for abbreviations, but Lando refused to think about what you were busy with. He didn’t think you were ‘easy’, god no he wasn’t an ass, but he’d never seen you click so fast with someone to the point that you’d let them put their hands on you like that.
Lando didn’t know how to respond, instead checking the time on the Uber. There was no way that many people were getting Uber’s that it was a twenty minute wait. He could only sigh before scrolling back to your text.
An answer that properly conveyed his dilemma evaded him, so he just replied with a ‘Going home’ before quickly tacking on a ‘Have fun :)’ because he felt it was rude not to. After hitting send, he put his phone in his pocket before leaning against the wall of the building closest to him, staring straight into the night sky.
He’d only have a few minutes of respite before a familiar call of his name sounded in his ears. His head swung down out of shock, watching your hasty figure make your way towards him. You were swaying on the heels you were regretting wearing, your purse having your essentials halfway out of it.
“What the hell, man?” You asked as you stumbled closer, the drink you’d bought yourself making your already unsteady steps seem as though you’d fall over if you went too close to a crack in the pavement.
He could only look on in incredulity as you stopped in front of him, one of your hands reaching for his arm to balance yourself. He quickly reacted, sweeping you into his side, before turning his head to look at you.
“I thought you were going to stay back.” His voice had a tone of question to it and you shook your head, swaying violently side from side as you moved it.
“No, I came with you. Gonna leave with you too.” Your words were mumbled as you spoke them, the drowsiness you felt becoming incredibly apparent. Lando tried not to react, though he found it incredibly hard. The knowledge that you’d never even planned to leave with anyone but him reassured him. The feeling he got from that reassurance made him slightly uncomfortable. As much as it made him regretful that he didn’t act earlier, no one owned you and you could do whatever you liked.
The words you spoke awoke a feeling that had been increasing ever since that phone call, the previous events of the night also hadn’t done it any favours. That feeling was protectiveness.
“Would you like me to take you home?” He asked and you nodded against his side. He held you there while you swayed, thinking over what the feeling coursing through his veins entailed. Was it right to feel protective over something that definitely wasn’t yours?
Lando was left to ponder this as you both waited for the cab. He didn’t know if that question explicitly applied to this situation. Maybe you weren’t each others in a relationship sense, but you were definitely each others in a friendship sense. Hell, he’d consider himself yours in any circumstance. He just didn’t know if you thought the same.
As the Uber pulled up the curb, Lando walked you both over. Quickly opening the door and guiding you in, he then rushed to the other side and got in the car. He gave the driver the address of your house before leaning back into his seat.
It took approximately five seconds after the car had started that your head fell on his shoulder. He froze, not daring to move a muscle in fear that he would disrupt your sleep. A quick glance down out of the corner of his eyes showed that you actually weren’t asleep, you were staring up at him. Your eyes looked as though they were shining as they stared at him, and he couldn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks
Your expression looked starstruck, as though you’d never seen him before. He quickly tapped your shoulder in a silent ‘you okay?’ gesture. You didn’t respond, causing him to look down and look at you.
Unknowingly, he had positioned you at eye level with each other. He could feel the breaths escaping your lips as you breathed out, the closeness a feeling he decided he would cherish because of the highly unlikely chance of ever feeling it again.
Or he could call it, lean in and deal with the repercussions. He was tempted, of course, it would be such an easy way to just rip the bandaid off. He wouldn’t have to deal with a confession or the rejection. He could just lean in for a few seconds then open the door of the Uber and roll out, never having to see you again to face the rejection he could sense.
After a few seconds he pulled the plug, deciding that the longer he held his head so close to yours, the creepier it came off. Neither of you talked the rest of the journey, relying on the old tunes of Oasis that the driver decided to put on.
Eventually, you arrived at your address. One look at Lando convinced him to walk you inside. He’d call another Uber, regardless of wait times.
You opened the door to your building, holding it open for Lando which he acknowledged with a smirk. You just rolled your eyes, the moment from the Uber well and truly passed. Regardless, you both moved to your elevator, moving in as you clicked the button of your floor.
There wasn’t many people around, it was too late, so it was just you and Lando in the elevator. A space that would normally be full of conversation was unusually quiet.
Lando knew why he was quiet, he was recalling the moment in the Uber, slightly mourning what could’ve happened if only he was braver. He didn’t know why you were quiet, probably thinking about how weird he was acting.
But, frankly, the night was almost over. Just another couple of minutes and Lando could start the journey home, able to think over how that man had touched you and how he would never be able to do that. He should definitely try to move on. It would be too uncomfortable to spend a long amount of time secretly loving his best friend.
The lift dinged and you both walked over, moving side by side down the corridor till you eventually reached your door. You both paused outside your door. You didn’t make any move to grab your key and instead just looked at Lando, an unfamiliar look on your face. You almost seemed resigned. Lando didn’t know why.
You then sighed before moving to your purse, rummaging for a second before pulling out your key. A quick turn and your door was open. You turned back to Lando, a small smile on your lips.
“Goodnight Lando.” You said sweetly and Lando returned the gesture quietly, pulling you in for a small hug. After you separated, you seemed to hesitate for a second before shaking your head and going inside. Lando watched you close the door and heard it click before he called out one last ‘goodbye’.
Except the words that left his lips were not ‘goodbye’. They were ‘love you’. Completely unconscious slip of the tongue but it resulted in Lando completely freezing. How the hell had he done that?
He couldn’t hear any footsteps from your side of the door and Lando was left gaping as he processed what he said and the fact that you definitely heard. It was way past the time to say it was an accident when he regained any sort of agency.
He immediately turned away from your door, poised as though to make a getaway. However, the sound of your door opening stopped him. Oh god, how was he going to write this off.
He slowly turned, making eye contact with you as you stood in the doorway of your apartment. Your expression was more shocked than blank, but it was definitely on the border. He could see the question in your face, but he could only respond with his completely gobsmacked expression.
He didn’t know what you took this to mean, but you smiled. A bright smile. A smile more radiant than any one he’d seen you give the man from the bar. It took you a second to gather your thoughts to speak, he could see you formulating something to say in your mind.
“I love you too.” Was your response and if Lando’s jaw could drop further, it did. He was not expecting any of this. If he were to confess his feelings, he thought there would’ve been a lot more of his tears involved and a lot more planning. However, here you were, shyly returning his feelings. A smile that matched your own spread across his face and you giggled at his reaction.
“Really?” He asked dumbly, something you’d tease him about later. You nodded.
It took him less than two seconds to cross from where he was standing awkwardly in the corridor to your door frame, and it took him even less time to kiss you.
And, for once, Lando felt relieved that he didn’t do anything a different way.
hope you likey
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