#a prequel story to the fic I suppose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dudeitiskarev · 1 month

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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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hellfirenacht · 2 months

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Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

5.7k Words

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers.

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus.

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you.

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question.

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway.

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly.

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you.

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.”

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate.

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?”

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with.

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid-

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before.

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up.

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared.

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something.

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.”

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness.

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.”

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen?

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different.

He really needed a cigarette right about now.

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him.

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched.

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing.

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat.

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen.

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay.

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town.

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag.

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy.

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much.

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right?

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in.

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.”

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked.

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed.

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!”

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room.

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.”

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm.

“And what plans would that be?” he asked.

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet.

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.”

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food.

“Friend’s house.”

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin.

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before.

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.”

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character.

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do.

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out.

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response.

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star.

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him.

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you.

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled.

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?”

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.”

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally.

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked.

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before.

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher.

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige.

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape.

Then you started laughing. A lot.

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question.

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down.

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table.

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting?

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked.

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.”

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!”

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!”

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now.

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot.

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway.

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?”

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered.

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern.

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.”

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?”

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected.

“And green.”

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months.

“What’s real to you?”

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that.

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it.

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.”

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?”

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.”

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again.

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded.

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?”

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Extremely.”

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we’re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent.

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.”

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this.

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.”

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day.

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first.

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back.

Next Chapter

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

#nacht post #nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 4 months

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ROUND 2 MATCH 63

Chloe propaganda:

“main love interest for the playable character (there's another option but he's generally not liked) she's badass, she's supposed to die but the player changes her fate, they were childhood friends but had a fallout but eventually met again, she lost her dad and previous friend/girlfriend (she appears in the prequel and the relationship is dependant on how the player wants it to be) she has blue hair she says the word hella a lot and (spoiler) by the end you either have to sacrifice her or the town it's one of those really depressing games”

“My Gay Awakening <3”

Mammon propaganda:

“He was done dirty in the first round, I hope he wins this time because he deserves it

First of all, he hates you at the start but then he starts to like you but he exclaimed his hate too much at the start so he can't admit it

Everyone knows that he likes MC, even his little D (who are demons familiars) thinks that they should date

He is a classic tsundere but doesn't actually hurt you like other tsunderes but he is so bad at hiding his feelings that everyone is just ignores it

He is the avatar of greed, meaning he is clingy which may be a turn away for some people but he cares for you so so much

He has never turned into his demon form to hurt you (Asmo hasn't but he has tried to seduce you with his power)

Don't get me started on his story cards, he literally is so cute

He wants to be a mentor to Luke, like Lucifer was to him, he is only mean to Luke because he wants Luke to learn about how life isn't all sunshine and rainbows

He is also so hot, he is a bisexual panic

He is bullied by his brothers but he cares for them so so much despite their bullying

I am so in love with him and have written so many fics about him

Anyway, I'm going to stop here because otherwise I'll be here all day”

#chloe price #Life is Strange #Mammon #Mammon Obey me #Obey Me #obey me shall we date #Round 2 #MDDC 2

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tsukimefuku · 1 month

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fixing broken things ❖ nanami kento

summary: after you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, sorcerer and kind of gardener f!reader, gardening, light nanami x reader, implied past higuruma x reader, nanami is very kind in his own way, hurt and comfort, some angst, some fluff.

wc: 1K

notes etc.: if you feel like reading a prequel to this, here's crooked gardening. i just randomly had the idea for this one and decided to jot it down. it's barely proofread. wrote it to the sound of we're all eating each other/the thing of life (juliet ivy)

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

You were pissed. There was no sugar-coating it.

Many of the sprouts on the flower bed you planted a while ago had their skewers pulled out or broken — apparently by accident, or from people stepping on them without meaning to — and that would take a huge time to fix.

You remembered the talk you had with Higuruma — you were back to calling him by his last name, at least for these past few days right after his departure — where you told him you were good at fixing crooked things.

What a joke.

If you really were, would he have left?

Mindlessly, you conjured one of your grenades, and considered for a moment exploding the entire flowerbed out of pure spite and anger. The unexplainable urge of destroying something, and repay the unending pain the world seemed hellbent in dropping over your shoulders.

Just another pointless heartache to carry around, as if you didn't have enough of those already.

You got your hand closer to the flowerbed, but before dropping the tiny grenade, you realized there was an invisible veil you simply couldn't rupture.

There was no crossing it, your body was preventing you from going beyond that imaginary line and blowing up a bunch of flowers you planted and nurtured yourself with such care, even if it were to plant new ones in their place.

There was no escaping the roots that had already taken hold.

"Good afternoon," you heard an already familiar voice say behind you. "Why are you holding one of your grenades?"

Sighing, you dissipated it, patting your hands on your pants to clean them from the dirt.

"I… I don't know, Nanami," you replied bitterly as you stood up.

He knew Higuruma left a few days ago, having talked to the sorcerer himself, and noticed you were obviously still processing his departure. Respectful as he was, Nanami avoided contacting you to offer assistance — he knew that, in case you did want it, you'd talk to him first. You were the type of person who usually needed some space and alone time to process things.

But at that moment, Nanami became slightly concerned, seeing you using your cursed technique at the HQ premises, given it had quite the destructive potential.

You turned on your heels and stomped your feet towards the nearest bench, sitting on it with a sour face. Your arms were crossed, and your anger kept building up with no relief. If only you could find it in yourself to blow up, at least this fucking once.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize that Nanami sat by your side.

He looked at his wristwatch and sighed before speaking.

"I have exactly 17 minutes before leaving for my next mission."

And then, there he stood, impassively waiting for you to speak up about what was going on.

"I wanted to blow up that flower bed."

He looked at you, and inquired, with no judgement in his voice, "why?"

"Because… Because some flowers are crooked, and I planted them, and I'm fucking supposed to be good at fixing crooked things, but fuck me, I guess I'm just… I don't know, Nanami. I don't fucking know," you blurted out, equal parts bitter and defeated. "I wanted to just destroy them and plant something else in their place."

"I see."

"Well, apparently, I'm not even good at doing that, because I couldn't do it. I just… couldn't."

"Why do you think that is?" He asked you, pushing his glasses into position.

"I have no idea," you spat, "do you have any? I could do with some enlightenment, or lecture, or whatever the hell you could throw at me right now. I'm tired of people leav…" you thought for a moment. "No, I guess that's it. I'm tired of people."

He huffed.

"People can be tiring."

"Yeah…" you were feeling a little less out of sorts, and the sadness began taking hold of the anger's place. "So, why couldn't I destroy anything?"

"You couldn't do it because you're not someone who breaks things."

You were a little puzzled, and said, "Nanami, my technique is literally casting grenades to blow things up. I'm pretty good at that — breaking and destroying things, I mean."

Nanami sighed and removed his glasses, turning his face to look at you.

"Not only that. You're also capable of applying reverse cursed technique on other people, so you carry both within you. The potential for breaking and for fixing."

You huffed, and looked at your feet as you asked, imitating his usual voice cadence, "is that so?"

"It is. But not only that. Your rage rarely pulls you down. It pushes you forward."

"What do you mean?"

You looked back at him at that moment.

"When your parents left, or when you lost people close to you, and when you were at that village. These were the many instances where you could have simply given up, but you chose to preserve your family legacy, to become a healer and to save a child. For a sorcerer that deals with negativity and death on a daily basis, you choose to bring out the best from the worst instead."

You were silent, taking in what Nanami was saying, and he proceeded.

"As it stands to reason, you wouldn’t use your pain or anger to destroy anything. You’d use it as fuel."

"For what?"

"Keep fixing broken things."

You huffed, an almost chuckle.

"Thanks for the compliments, I guess."

"Those weren't compliments, I simply stated facts," he answered, putting his glasses back on.

You acquiesced.

"Yeah, forgot you did that."

You got up on your feet and stood there for a moment, before turning towards him and saying, "thank you, Nanami."

He bowed his head, and got up himself.

"See you around?"

"See you around," he replied, sparing you a discreet smile before walking away.

You stepped towards the flower bed and looked at it, fully aware that just bursting everything away and starting from scratch would be easier. However, you sat on the ground and started pulling the broken skewers off, determined to put new ones in place, realizing this would take a lot of effort and time.

Grunting, you began mumbling to yourself, displeased and somewhat happily defeated for the first time in days.

Fucking Nanami, always fucking right about fucking things.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu fluff #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #kento x reader #jujutsu partners au #fuku writes

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castielstwigandberries · 7 months

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if the supernatural movie doesnt include a reference to

nevada and georgia turning blue, stop the count, destiel making putin resign, sherlock season 5 rumors, destiel news meme, which political person had to be briefed on what destiel is now?, jensen looks like he was holding back homophobic slurs, weird cuts in the confession scene, which way was dean thrown now?, bury your gays speedrun, gay angels get send to superhell/eeby-deeby/cas plinko, recognizing the confession scene only by the first letters of each word, 'homosexual declaration of love', The Tapes™ (Release them now jensen!!!), meta analysis after 15x18, 'i gripped you tight and raised you from perdition' callback as dean saves cas from the empty, why lamp?, onion field, pizza man montage, parallels be paralleling, dean screaming cas name so loud in one take that people heard it blocks away, dean offering to kill sam if it means chuck brings cas back, the 4 year old son of lucifer becoming god, chuck won theory, 'we explore the nature of destiel in act two', excitement for a long finale which could only be about dean saving cas, right?, the insanity inducing quotes of the day for episodes, 'the night we met' and 'angel with a shotgun' songs of the day on set, filming in a barn, worst finale ever (even worse than game of thrones), weirly short with 11 scenes cut, two thirds montages, carry on wayward son playinf twice, back to back, one a weird cover version, vampmimes, no cas in the finale but instead some random vampire from season one no one remembers, dean finally gets nailed from behind, dean dies from tetanus, party city wig, good cars go to heaven, Car/Cas and Biden/Bi!Dean/Bye!Dean, 'cas helped', blurry wife, misha and jensen are not in the thank you video, everyone was supposed to be at the roadhouse originally but no one was informed of those plans, walker backdoor pilot, covid/capitalism destroyed everything, misha was in vancouver for filming the last episodes and was in less episodes than he was contracted for, misha denies ever having been in vancouver, misha says originally he was supposed to be in the finale as jimmy, misha says cas was supposed to be in the finale and 'sidle up to dean in the roadhouse', heterosexual destiel whose kisses would have created entire universes, destiel reciprocated in spanish, rogue translator, #TheySilencedYou, Jensen Ackles sexy silence, jensen ackles longcon, deanbenny breakup in season 8 script leak, Heller Obama, fake italian dub, misha collins x bill clinton sex scandal, misha addressing the "scandal" and tagging bill clinton and monica lewinski, 'still beautiful, still dean winchester', mishapocalypse 2.0 and 3.0, 'eyes like the sky' beer from jensens brewery rumored to be misha description, cockles anniversay photo, chaos machine jensen ackles' production company, 'rainbow road' beer close to deans birthday, blue green ('destiel') shotglasses from jensen brewery, ash and ellen's actors roleplaying roadhouse reopening in twitter, people think they are planning destiel wedding, disappointment when thats not the case, fans celebrate Destiel Wedding anyway on Valentine's Day 2021, fallout with both actors after one said a 'queer interpretation would damage the integrity of the show',

*takes a deep breath*

jared calling cas junkless and comparing his love for dean to the love he has for his children, misha collins cameo including 'still beautiful, still dean winchester', saileen and midam wedding, spn prequel announcement and subsequent j2 fallout, '@/robbiethompson et tu brute wow. what a trully awful thing you've done #bravo you coward', the prequel being about the least favourite characters of supernatural and a love story disproved by canon, 100000 destiel fics on ao3, misha tweets about that, rumors if mishas secret ao3 account, real italian dub going 'you're kinda okay' instead of i love you, misha tweeting a video of him saying 'te amo' in response to that', jensen saying if there'd been more time he (he meant dean but he used first person pronouns) would have hugged cas and said 'i love you too', first anniversary, misha collins coming out as bisexual on accident and then saying he 'happens to be straight' three days later in a five post apology thread, hot sauce from adam/micheal actor advertised by him playing midam, casbaiting in the winchesters trailer, jarlos shipping by winchester main actors, dean with beard and turtleneck, jensen saying he wanted misha in the winchesters but it didnt work out because of scheduling conflicts but hed be there in a season two shortly before the show was cancelled, death of the rogue translator and destiel getting dragged to the trending page every time there is news

*panting* then i dont want it.

yes this is all i could remember without looking it up

#supernatural #spn #destiel #nov 5th #my post

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rorywritesjunk · 6 months

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I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. A known swordsman makes a brief appearance in this. Buggy is jealous and a bit insecure in this chapter. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 7

Buggy woke up to a bucket beside his bed, a glass of water on the nightstand, and a note telling him you were in the kitchen. He was confused as to why you left him a note because he didn’t know why you were there at first. He had fuzzy memories from the previous night: going to the shop, walking back to the ship, a drink, a marriage proposal, sharing his bed-

Oh shit. He fell out of bed, horrified by how he acted towards you. That was the last thing he wanted and he scrambled to find some clothes to put on. He found his shirt from the previous night and threw it on, ignoring the stains and smell of beer coming off it. Maybe you were still on the ship and he could explain everything, unless you left and never wanted to see him again. That was entirely possible.

You were in the kitchen when he came crashing in, eating a banana as you looked at the photos he showed you last night. He froze when he saw them and you looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Buggy.”

“Where did you get those?!”

“You showed them to me last night.” You chuckled before taking a sip of your tea. “After you asked me to marry you.”

His hand shot off to grab them but you were quicker, moving them out of his way. You then pointed to the floating hand.

“Also, can you explain this?” You asked. “Miss Pins mentioned something about Devil Fruits but I didn't get it. and last night your body… was a part for a moment and it was…interesting to see.”

How were you talking so casually about all this? It was like discussing the weather, you were asking if it was cloudy outside. Others would have been horrified, thinking he was some kind of freak for what his body could do, but you were just eating a banana as you waited for an answer.

“I… have Devil Fruit powers.” He mumbled as he sat himself in a chair across from you. “I ate the Chop Chop fruit, so my body can split apart.” He scratched his head and looked at you. “Well? Aren't you disgusted or scared of me now?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You frowned as you finished your banana. “It's not like you bleed everywhere when it happens, right? If anything it's probably useful. You took your bottle back from me last night when we were walking, which was, admittedly, a little weird, but I had already seen it before. Just after you laid down last night I realized I wanted to ask you.”

“So…you're not disgusted that my body does this?”

“Buggy, I don't find your body disgusting.” You assured him as you sipped your tea. “Okay?”

He blushed and looked away. “Really? Even my nose?”

“I think it's cute.” You smiled.

“Sh-shut up! Don't lie to me!” He shot back as he glared at you.

“I'm not, promise.” You assured him as you looked back at the photos. “You were so cute as a kid.”

Buggy sat back in his seat, still glaring at you as you set the pictures down and got up to pour him some tea. Did you really think his nose was cute or were you just saying that? So far you'd never been mean to him, only occasionally teasing him, but he still was wary when it came to his nose.

When his tea was ready you brought the cup back to him and pushed the plate of fruit over to him. “I figured fruit would be a good post-birthday hangover meal. You need to hydrate.”

He crossed his arms and eyed the plate before looking back at you. “Why are you still here? I figured you would have left.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You told him as you picked up an apple and cut into it, separating it into slices. “You said stuff about me making you happy if I married you, and… I got worried.”

“I'm fine.” He grumbled as he looked down at his lap. “I was drunk, ignore what I was saying.”

You put the apple slices down on the plate before getting back up to find something with protein for him. He picked up one of the slices and shoved it in his mouth as he turned to watch you. He acted like a damn idiot last night but you stuck around to make sure he was okay. Did you want something from him or did you genuinely care about him? This wasn’t something he was used to or expected, so it was a little hard for him to understand. You found a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard and grabbed it.

“Here, have this.” You opened it, noting that it still seemed edible before finding a spoon to scoop some out for him onto the plate. He watched you suspiciously before he helped himself to the peanut butter.

“You don't have to stay.” He said with his mouth full of food. “Your boss is gonna come looking for you.”

You shrugged as you sat back down in your chair. “I'll leave in a bit, but only if you walk me back.”

He glanced up at you with a frown, but you said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wiped his face for him. He grumbled and tried to pull away from you but you didn't let him, making sure his face was clean before you sat back down. He glared at you, face flushed as he finished his plate.

“Ignore everything I said last night.” He said again as he looked down at the plate. “I was drunk.”

“So you don't think I'm nice?” You asked with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “Or soft? You don't want to marry me then?”

“I-I do!” He said before slapping his hand over his mouth. You grinned at him and leaned back in your chair. He glared at you. “You're cruel.”

“I thought I was nice.” You teased as you sipped your tea. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance as you grinned at him. “Let's finish up, I need to head back. I have a customer returning today and I need to make sure he gets his order.”

He just grumbled as he drank his own tea. You got up and tidied up the kitchen, making sure to wash the dishes and dry them. He watched you as you moved about, enjoying how you already felt comfortable on the ship, that you seemed to know where everything was already in the kitchen. It was a sight he could get used to, he decided, but he didn't know if it was something you'd want.

“Let's head out, okay?” You said with a smile.

Buggy just nodded, but instead of leaving the ship you led him back to his room to put the pictures back while he pulled his boots back on. You found him a clean(er) shirt to wear and held it out to him, turning you back so he could change. He didn't know why, you obviously saw him shirtless (and he had a brief flashback to what he thought was going to happen last night and he momentarily died of embarrassment before straightening back up), but once he was ready he reached to put his bandana back on when you stopped him.

“Can you leave it down?” You asked, your own cheeks pink as you reached out to touch a lock of his hair. “It's um, just so pretty. I’d like to see it.”

He stared at you, wondering if you were teasing him again, but you weren't. A lock of his hair was entwined in your fingers as you ran your thumb over it, and when you realized what you were doing you let go and put your hands behind your back.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's…fine.” Buggy said as he tossed the bandana aside. He always put his hair up, finding it to be a nuisance as it got longer. His Devil Fruit made it difficult to get a haircut, it just reattached itself whenever he tried to cut it, so he gave up and let it get long. He didn't think it was a feature someone would care about, like his nose.

You smiled at him, he felt his face heating up and he looked away as he held his arm out to you. When you linked your arm with his he straightened up before he marched out of his room with you on his arm, thinking today would be a good day.

When he saw your customer he was horrified by how handsome he was. Dark hair, cheekbones, sharp, yellow eyes. And you were nice, helping your customer into his coat, explaining what you did with his request, and when you touched his shoulders Buggy couldn't help but feel jealous because you did that for him too, you always made sure his coat fit him, but it was obvious now that you did it for everyone. Buggy had no reason to feel special.

When you finished up, your customer kissed your hand before leaving. Buggy was seething. You just shook your head before grabbing Buggy by the hand and leading him to the backroom.

“I have a present for you, Buggy.”

He tried to ignore Benji saying how cool that guy looked or Miss Pins commenting how that customer was so handsome because he knew they wouldn't think that way about him, so why would you? He said nothing as you let go of his hand and retrieved a small white box from a pile of other ones. He crossed his arms, glaring at his feet as you walked back over to him and held it out.

“Happy birthday.” You said, but he wouldn't take it from you. “Buggy?”

“You didn't know it was my birthday until last night.” He mumbled. “How do you have a gift for me already?”

You shrugged as you opened the box for him. He still wouldn't look at you. “I thought of it this morning. I did some hand stitching on this for a customer who never came back for it, but thankfully he prepaid for it.” You pulled out a square of silk, a light purple color, and held it out to him. He finally looked up, reaching out to touch it with his fingers carefully. “I thought it would look better on you than in some box.”

He hesitated and pulled his hand back. He didn't deserve a gift like this from you, especially considering on your own birthday he was an asshole to you. You said nothing as you rolled the fabric loosely before draping it over his neck. You pulled his hair out from under it before you looped it into a knot and tightened it just a bit.

You smiled as you tugged on the front of it gently. “It looks good on you, Buggy.”

Buggy swallowed heavily and nodded. You were so close to him right then. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. If he didn't do what he wanted to do right then he would regret it. You'd get romanced by someone else, some more handsome pirate, and he had to make it up to you for what he did on your birthday.

Without a word he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, nose bumping and-

Honk!

Buggy froze and pulled back from you, a look of horror on his face at what just happened. You stared at him, but before he could bolt you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, tilting your head just enough to avoid bumping his nose. He kept his arms at his sides, unsure where to put them.

It felt like it went by too quickly when you pulled back from him, smiling brightly as you pecked him on the cheek.

“Is this a belated birthday gift, Buggy?” You teased as you let go of his shirt. He was red in the face but he grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to be smooth.

“D’you want it to be?” He asked. You touched the silk around his neck and leaned into him, but he leaned back, expecting some kind of surface to support him, but instead he fell backwards and crashed onto the floor.

You immediately knelt down and helped him sit up, checking him for injury. He seemed fine, just embarrassed, so you kissed him on the cheek.

“It could be, but I wouldn't say no to flowers.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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clover-blossom · 4 months

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ANIDALA FIC RECOMMENDATIONS- Part 1*

Realized I inadvertently left off several great fics. Stay tuned for Part 2!

Snowbaird has inspired me to revisit a favorite ship from my younger years. Inspired by @burntblueberrywaffles list, I put together one of my favorites. The vast majority of these are on ff.net BUT BUT BUT remember you can convert them here for download to your Kindle.

The Anakin Saga by geo3

A five part series published before all the prequels were released (so this is an OG). The first two are one shots. The last three are multi-chapter.

The Hour of Souls

The padawan and the Senator find that it is very difficult to be in love when everyone is watching and a shadowy figure is pulling strings....

Step into My Parlor

At the end of Episode II, why, oh why did they let Anakin travel back to Naboo with Padme? It turns out that a certain Dark Lord had something to do with it...

Children of Circumstance

A story about Anakin, his love and his path.

Winds of Change

Early days of the fall... Anakin's path after he is secretly married and returns to the Temple.

Ring of Fire

The final story in the Anakin Saga Series.

Living a Lie by Leah Naberrie

After the forbidden wedding, the reality of living a lie hits the Skywalkers.

Slight of Hand and Twist of Fate by irnan

"I suppose we should just be grateful they're not planning to televise the investigations," Anakin grouses. "Hmm," Obi-Wan says, too busy playing with Leia to answer him

Purgatory by HelenT

As if the comment Obi-Wan had made to Luke about Anakin ‘dying’ when he became Darth Vader was literally true, a newly dead Vader wakes in a strange world—as a twenty-three year old again. Post ROTJ

Kratisto by Irnan

Collection of ficlets about Anakin Skywalker

Pulse by froovygirl

AU for ROTS. As Padme's life hangs in the balance on Mustafar, a stream of brilliant light causes Anakin to reconsider his choices.

Into the Archives by skygawker

After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU.

No Real Affection by Meredith Bronwen Mallory

After the second attempt on Padme's life, the young senator and Anakin find themselves getting to know each other again.

Underneath by CrazyAni

After feroscious duel on Mustafar, ObiWan Kenobi and Darth Vader are given a chance to go back and save Anakin. The Force sends them back to the past, but they wake up in each other's bodies...RotS AU*

*unfinished but worth a read

Part 2

#anidala #anakin and padme #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #padme amidala #padme skywalker #anidala fic #anakin x padme

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rey-jake-therapist · 2 months

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Alana Bloom: revelations and character development

As I'm starting outlining an Hannibal fic focused on Hannibal's past as a university professor (which I very pretentiously call a 'Hannibal prequel' in my mind), I feel like writing a piece on Alana Bloom. She was Hannibal's student so she's got an important part in my plot, even if the professor/student relationship she had with Hannibal then won't be the primary subject. There's just nothing interesting to do with this subject, except for a story of an unsuspecting student pining for her professor. Meh.

But back to Alana: in season 1 and 2, I often didn't like her. She was supposed to be this very smart and skilled psychiatrist, even bragged once about being often right, yet Hannibal played her effortlessly. Alright, he was good, but the fact that she didn't even considered the possibility that Hannibal wasn't who he claimed he was, despite Will's repeated accusations, never sat right with me.

There was a point where I even began wondering what was the point of her: she seemed to be there only for the sake of bickering with everybody and being in a love triangle with Hannibal and Will. She seemed a bit to be the beautiful idiot of the story, even though she was theorically much more than that!

Then season 3 came and it completely changed my perception of her. And it even helped me understand her better, including how she behaved in season 1 and 2. The fact that she fell so hard and fast for Margot, a woman who because of what her brother put her through was at least as 'unstable' as Will was, and finally helped her commit a murder says A LOT about Alana.

She would probably hate to admit it, but I think Hannibal helped her come to terms with the fact that she doesn't want to be with someone 'stable'. In season 1 and 2 Alana believed she was drawn to Will in spite of his issues, and that she dated Hannibal because HE seemed stable. But then why Margot? There's only one explanation for this: Alana fell for Will, for Margot AND even for Hannibal because they were 'unstable'.

Season 3 finally revealed that what seemed like blind naivety in season 2 towards Hannibal was in fact denial, denial of what she really needed. Deep inside I believe Alana always knew there was something wrong with Hannibal, but admitting it would have also involved something about her and she wasn't ready to face that truth. It revealed that she was unstable as well, while she probably spent most of her life pretending she was Miss Perfection, absolutely unproblematic and a paragon of virtue. It was way easier for her to accept the idea that it was Will, the man she rejected because he was too unstable, was the true murderer. She could sleep better at night thinking it was him, than suspecting that the true ripper lay right beside her.

In season 3 we see her come to terms with the fact that it was all... a lie. Alana values life but she's perfectly fine with the idea of taking someone's life if she thinks they had it coming. And I LOVE her for that, because her entire arc is the arc of a complex and interesting character. The glow even shows in her physicality, her general behavior: she seems way more confident, she occupies the space in a way she didn't in the two previous seasons.

Hannibal probably didn't plan this, but he must have been very proud of Alana ;)

#Alana bloom #Hannibal meta #Hannibal nbc #Hannibal lecter #caroline dhavernas #mads mikkelsen

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gffa · 5 months

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Realizing that I think I've read probably 80% of the High Republic stories is wild because honestly I thought I was barely halfway, but the stories go faster than I expect them to. There's a lot of good I have to say about the High Republic stories, they're surprisingly fantastic at all the moving parts of the story, that through books and comics and audio dramas and multiple authors writing all of it, it does feel like multiple points of view on a singular created universe, they really got their continuity shit together. They're also very easy to read, I can pick them up at any time, and while I have my issues with the whole thing, I will say that more than half of the books have left me feeling like I want more once I've finished them, that I'm definitely ready to pick up the next one. The issue I have though is that I cannot get over that the whole project feels like a palette swap of the prequels story--the Jedi philosophy is the same, the Jedi abilities are the same, the Jedi's interaction and treatment from the galaxy are the same (put on a pedestal by some, reviled by others, they usually make friends wherever they go, the political entanglements are almost exactly the same), the reasons they're drawn into a large-scale battle are exactly the same, the conversations they have about why they've joined this fight are the same, the technology of the era is almost exactly the same, etc. This works great for me in a lot of ways, because you couldn't have handed me a better example of why the Jedi were doing their best in the prequels and how they were good people, I couldn't have asked for anything more to demonstrate my case except for maybe a silver platter to deliver it all on. But it also keeps me from connecting with the story as uniquely its own, because how am I supposed to care about a character when they're so clearly patterned off Obi-Wan or when half the cool things about them are a nod to Mace? How am I supposed to get invested in a character when the majority of their personality is made up of quirks or that they're the bestest ever ever ever, rather than giving them any kind of bite as a person? I have had zero desire to read fic about any of these characters, which tells me a lot about how much I care about them as characters, instead of plot points. Would I recommend these books and comics? I think so, they're fun, I'm genuinely having a good time, but also at least half the reason I'm reading them is so I can quote them for my Jedi Citations project. They often lack any real bite, but that's an overall Star Wars books problem that's not unique to these ones and, eh, lots of people are super in love with these books and I can see why, it's entirely possible I just am too deep into Prequels Brain so I can't get past that basically half of what's going on in these books is a retread of the prequels' plot points and worldbuilding.

#lumi.txt #star wars #the high republic #meta

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jesterwriting · 7 months

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pairings: mad scientist!law x assistant!reader

word count: 2k words

contents: DARK CONTENT AHOY!!! animal death (cat), animal harm (cat), animal gore (cat), reanimator au, medical student law, medical student reader, unhinged!law, creepy!law, horror, manipulation,

note: this was originally supposed to be apart of an earlier request, but i split it up because i felt like this one had far more horror elements and animal harm that were a lot heavier and darker. you can read them together or separate or not at all! its up to you <33 im kind of obsessed with this au so i may do more with it if people are into it??

playlist: reanimator prologue & main title - richard brand

prequel to this fic

At first, you thought this was a dream come true. It wasn’t often that you got lucky enough to be paired with your crush for a project, but here you were, meeting him at your apartment for the sixth time in one month. It was more than you could ever dare to hope for. For the longest time, you had thought that you were condemned to a life of daydreams and fantasies.

Trafalgar Law was an odd man, one who was not particularly liked by his peers— aside from you, of course. He was cold, and the sort to stare if you managed to garner his, usually unwanted, attention. When he did speak, it was a snarky remark at the recipient's expense, both classmate and professor, Law had no patience for perceived stupidity you realized after weeks of study. His tattoos were off putting to most. What kind of medical student had ‘death’ written across his knuckles? You, on the other hand, found them fascinating. The story behind such morbid body art was sure to be captivating.

If only you could get him to share it.

You shouldn’t be surprised. Law was quiet, only ever speaking to prove someone wrong, or to insist that he was right. When he did talk to you, it was about the project and his own personal plans for it. You could hardly get a word in edgewise. Instead of fighting Law on it, you allowed him to do whatever he pleased with the project, following his orders dutifully, which seemed to earn you the smallest margin of his rarely given respect. Last meeting, he had even acknowledged your interjection with a nod, rather than a scoff, though he didn’t incorporate your idea at all. Progress was progress, you supposed.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them from your pocket. Before you could stick them in the knob, the door creaked open, revealing your empty living room. It was dark, no signs of life. Not even your cat came to greet you. You swallowed hard, anxiety making your saliva thicken until it was stuck in your throat as a hard glob.

You told Law where your spare key was hidden, had he forgotten to close the door after he arrived?

“Law?” There was no response. With your heart pounding, you pushed the door open further and stepped into your apartment. Floorboards creaked under your weight, making you wince. There was something that told you to be quiet, that there was someone waiting for you in the shadows, ready to strike. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

A dim light in the kitchen caught your attention, and you slowly tip-toed over to it, careful to keep your footsteps light. Carpet squelched under your shoes. Maybe Law spilled a glass of water and went looking for a rag. Surely, your organizational skills weren’t so bad he was still looking for one. You choked on an uncomfortable laugh.

Like your front door, your fridge was open. Not gaping, but a small crack to let the barest sliver of light out. A sense of dread settled on your shoulders, though you tried to remind yourself that Law was supposed to be here. Everything could be explained if he would come out. All he needed to do was make his presence known and you would know you were safe. You swallowed hard, staring at the refrigerator door. It was your only source of light in the apartment, if you closed it now, you’d be surrounded on all sides by darkness.

You blinked, cocking your head to the side to get a better view. There was something large and furry on the top shelf. Nausea roiled in your gut, threatening to spill your dinner onto the floor, as dim recognition flickered in your brain.

With your knuckle, you pushed the door open fully to get a better look. There, inside of your fridge, was your cat. He wasn’t breathing, eyes glassy and body stiff under the pale yellow light.

Your cat was dead and its corpse was in your fridge.

You couldn’t help it. You screamed.

“You’re home.”

Scrambling backwards until your lower back hit the counter, you could barely make out Law’s figure through your blurry vision. You choked on a sob and hastily wiped your eyes. He seemed bored as he leaned against the wall, almost unimpressed, though there was a glimpse of something softer in his gaze. Not concern, not yet, but close enough to it that you could pretend.

You pointed a shaky finger at the fridge. “M-My cat.”

“I know, I put it in there.” Law strode into the kitchen and closed the door with his foot. You felt better not having to look at the corpse anymore, even if tears continued to leak from your eyes. “I didn’t want it to decompose and start to stink before you were able to bury it. I know you were fond of it.”

“What happened? How did he die?”

Law shrugged, noncommittal. “I’m not sure. It was dead when I got here. I figured you would rather me not perform an autopsy in your living room considering I have no veterinary experience.”

“An-And you put it in my fridge? You couldn’t have left a note on the door or—“

Law scoffed, “And what would the note say? Cat dead, details later? Think for a second.”

The longer the conversation continued, the harder you sobbed. You loved that cat. He’d been with you for years now, through thick and thin. You’d never feel his warm body on your chest again as he slept, you’d never feel his purr rumble against your skin, you’d never be able to pet him under his chin the way he liked it ever again. It was too much to think about, grief rolling over you like a wave, threatening to drown you.

Law’s gaze softened, even if his sigh was exasperated. “We can postpone working on the project until you’re able to gather yourself.”

He turned to leave, but your hand shot out to grab his wrist. “Please don’t leave me here with him.”

The body. You couldn’t bury him. Not alone. Law thought for a moment, his golden eyes glazed over for a second before a smirk inched across his face. He only ever got that look when he thought of a plan, and this looked to be a good one. With a condescending pat on your head, Law wrenched himself from your grasp, grin still in place.

“That’s alright, Y/N-ya, I’m not going anywhere. I can sleep on your couch and help you with its body tomorrow.” His pupils shot over to the fridge. “It’s best if you leave it in there for the night, corpses are best kept cold.”

Sniffling, you gave a shaky nod. “I’ll set up the couch.”

—

It was three am when a knock at your door woke you.

The weight of mourning felt heavy in your chest and your bed felt too cold without the familiar warmth of your cat. Your heart ached at the reminder of his demise. All you wanted to do was curl up and go back to sleep. Forget about what waited for you in the fridge.

So tired, both emotionally and physically, you were ready to chalk the knock up to a dream. That was, until you heard it again, louder and more forceful this time.

An unwanted feeling of anxiety crawled up your spine. Something felt off, a sense of wrongness filled the air until it was so thick, you could hardly breathe. A horrible yowl resounded through your apartment, blood curdling and unnatural. There was a familiarity to the scream. You took no comfort in it. Your eyes shot open, and you leapt from your bed onto your feet, wired from the sudden surge of adrenaline. Hyperventilating breaths ripped from your chest.

The knock sounded again. “Y/N-ya, I have something to show you.”

Law’s deep voice sent goosebumps erupting down your arms. If you were being honest, it wasn’t the first time it had happened, but this time, there was something different about it. Dread curled in your gut, sleeping inside you like the cat in your fridge. With a cry, you covered your ears and curled in on yourself when whatever was in your living room screamed again.

“Law, do you hear that?”

You didn’t have to see him to know he rolled his eyes. “Come out, there’s something I need you to see.”

Your feet moved on their own accord, drawn by the sound of Law’s voice. Even as the thing in your living room wailed, your fingers found your knob and curled around it. The brass was cold against your palm. It grounded you. The first thing you noticed when you opened the door was that Law had blood smeared across the front of his shirt. It didn’t seem to be from any wounds, and you found yourself relieved, even if you couldn’t begin to explain where it came from.

Law was grinning, all teeth, a manic gash across his face. “I did it. A success, right here in your apartment. You must be my lucky charm.” He patted your head.

“Did what?” You peered around him.

“I’ll show you.” He paused before stepping to the side. “I did it for you, you know? I know how fond you were of it.”

There was something on your coffee table. It twitched and convulsed, mouth open in a soundless scream as its eyes bulged out of its sockets. Blood pooled around it, dripping onto the carpet. It took a second for you to recognize it through the pulsing viscera. He hadn’t been so cut up before. Instead, he had been so whole, you could have mistaken him for being asleep if it wasn’t for the glassiness in his eyes. Beside him was an empty syringe and a container of glowing green fluid.

“My cat,” You choked out. “What did you do to him?”

Law wrapped an arm around you and held you to his chest. “I brought it back for you.” He glanced at the bloody mass, a frown tugging at his lips. “There are still some kinks to work out, but this was a good test of my reagent.” Expectant, Law glanced at you. “But, I need more trials.”

“He was dead,” Your tone was flat, and your body was numb. When you looked away, Law grabbed your chin and forced you to look at the thing pulsating on your coffee table.

“Look at it. I defeated death tonight. I did what every doctor has dreamed of doing for millenia, and the first steps to realizing this were done in your apartment. You should be honored.”

“Why did you do this?”

“Because I wanted to share something extraordinary with you.” He must have seen you were unconvinced because he sighed, the motion rattling your body, still pressed against him. “I need an assistant, and you are my best option. You're respected and well-liked by your professors, they would let you get away with murder as long as you turned that sweet smile in their direction.” Law leaned down until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “You can get me into the morgue, Y/N-ya.”

This was wrong, you knew it deep down in your heart, but with Law so close to you, the smell of antiseptic and blood clogging your senses, you could hardly think. Once the project was over, Law would never give you the time of day again. He wasn’t the type of man who had friends. Colleagues, maybe, but not friends. If you agreed to be a part of his sick experiments, you wouldn’t have to leave him. Law would be stuck with you, bonded together by this secret. If you were his assistant, you could have him forever.

“Okay,” You said, still somewhat hollow. A tear slipped down your cheek when you pointed to your cat. “Just kill him. Put him out of his misery, I can’t stand to see him like this.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Without hesitation, Law stepped around you, scalpel in hand, and plunged it into your cat's skull. The twitching stopped. His body went slack, limp against the coffee table.

Law stood back and gave you a reassuring smile. “There. All better now.”

For a second, you let yourself believe him.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x yn #trafalgar law x you #.jesterwrites

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jiminjamms · 2 years

Text

sex therapy :: 14. sucker for pain

chapter tags/warnings: misogynistic! naoya. pet names ("bimbo"). dirty talking. nonconsenual undertones. infidelity/adultery. strong language. humiliation. classism.

word count: 3.8k

notes: i published this story for the first time in october 2021 on wattpad, and i'm so thankful for and overwhelmed by the support and love that sex therapy has received over the past year. thank you for watching me and my story grow. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Repeat.

This would be the mantra Naoya would live by tonight.

The little date he was taking you on was merely a prequel to the chain of bedroom events he had schemed for the evening. Because warming up first was important, no?

As a wonderful husband, Naoya took his precious wife out to dinner at Shibuya’s Cé La Vi, a top-floor restaurant that may not be as vertigo-inducing as its famous Marina Bay Sands counterpart in Singapore, but offered a menu and skyline views second to none.

He had even requested an outdoor table under the fairy lights for the romantic atmosphere, where both the amber hues and soft jazz washed the vicinity with warmth and peace. Exactly what Naoya also needed after his last twenty hours filled with hurried negotiations with publishers, a long flight back to Tokyo, and many private lectures from his outraged father.

At least that was all done now.

Sighing, Naoya gestured at a nearby waiter, who disappeared and returned with a glass of expensive tequila several minutes later. Eight in the evening might be far too early for Naoya to down his third shot of Don Julio, but he needed to reward himself for completing a hectic itinerary without a wink of shuteye in between.

With the drink, he quietly soaked in the low hum of chatter that mingled with the gentle clinking of cutlery. The ambiance was so miraculous that Naoya didn’t know why he hadn’t taken you here earlier.

Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he had taken you out on a proper date anyway?

Oh, when he took you out two weeks ago to skydive in…

No, wait that was with Mari.

He was only two and a half glasses in, but the liquor was already messing with his memory.

So when…?

“We haven’t done anything like this in a long, long while,” you commented when you must have noted his extended silence at the dinner table, although Naoya found it quite funny that you seemingly read his thoughts instead.

He swirled the liquor in his glass but decided against another sip. “You think so?” he asked as harmlessly as possible. “When was the last time?”

Cutting into a scallop on your plate, you bit your inner cheek. “Our…honeymoon.”

Holy crap, that Caribbean trip was months ago. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned.

Oh.

Okay, he might have thought a lot more about spending time with his mistress, and he hadn’t exactly been keeping track of every single date he went on with you, but he certainly did not expect to have such an abysmal track record with his own wife.

Not that he felt guilty about his absence in your life.

Besides, you had the money to entertain yourself as you wished. Whether because you were blinded by sheer stupidity or his bank account, you thankfully didn’t complain much either. All Naoya had to do was to keep you happy and ignorant because—to paraphrase his father’s own words—if Naoya flopped this marriage with the COO's daughter, he would not be welcomed in the Zenin household again.

The difficult part, however, was that you were hard to please.

That was what happened to little girls who grew up spoiled by daddy’s money, Naoya supposed. Mari, on the other hand, would have absolutely been overjoyed in your position. Hell, even Naoya himself—who merely grew up as a spare heir—would have shown some gratitude.

“Sorry that I’ve been so occupied.” The Zenin CEO had to inject whatever sympathy and sincerity he had into his apology before sampling his risotto. “I’ve been buried in work ever since I joined the executive suite earlier this year. I’ve had a lot to catch up on.”

“I know,” you responded very matter-of-factly. “And I understand. You’ve been busy with meetings.”

Right. Meetings with his board in addition to his, well, other more discreet ‘meetings’ where he pounded his paramour into oblivion (but let’s not talk about that, shall we?).

As he pushed the thought away, he placed his fork down in exchange for his drink. “That’s why I invited you for dinner—to spend extra time with you. I’ll make things up to you even more later.”

You glanced up from your meal, blinking rapidly but the ambivalence apparent in your gaze. “Really? Like how?”

Sex, you motherfucking dimwit.

How much more obvious did he have to be?

Of course, he instead replied with, “You’ll see.”

He hadn’t told you his idea to rail your brains out because he didn’t feel obligated to, but if he wanted to a) get his father off his ass and b) be a baby daddy by morning, he had quite the mission to accomplish. Besides, if he calculated the numbers correctly in his head, today was still within your fertility window. A later day in the schedule, but still a fertile time for his wife, nonetheless. This was the perfect time to focus on you, particularly since he wouldn’t be distracted by Mari for some time. Perhaps arriving early from Mexico wasn’t too much of a bad thing.

Tonight, the deed didn’t seem too difficult to do either, thanks to how provocatively you dressed. Since when did you wear off-the-shoulder mini dresses? Was this from your New York fashion haul three months back?

“It’d be nice if you could apologize to me first.”

Naoya froze with his glass by his mouth at your unanticipated comment. What were you even going on about? “Didn’t I already say sorry for not spending time with you?” This was what he meant by how ungrateful you were.

Curling your lips inward, you inhaled sharply. “That wasn’t what I was—”

When the conversation was unexpectedly interrupted by a buzzing at the table, Naoya reached for his phone only to be greeted with a blank screen. Rather, he looked up to see you wiping your hands and staring at your device, mirroring Naoya’s own confusion as your brows creased at an unsaved number.

“Spam,” you concluded and pushed the device away once the caller eventually reached voicemail. “What I was saying,” you began even as your face contorted momentarily with reluctance, “was that you never told me you were away from Japan. I didn’t even know where you were or when you would be back had I not called your secretary.”

Wow, that was what you wanted an apology for?

What an entitled brat.

Admittedly, Naoya should have texted you before he vanished into thin air, but a homemaker like you certainly had no business in his personal schedule. Had he truly had an investor conference to attend, Naoya was certain you would have been just as meddlesome, which was why he found the situation even more sardonic when you confirmed his suspicions by adding, “Sending me a text isn’t too difficult, you know.”

Just who the hell did you think you were?

Don’t think he had not noticed how confrontational you had been as of late, criticizing his actions and then dishing out instructions as though you were anywhere near the place to do so. This change from your typically submissive nature was uninvited, to say the least. Like, at the bare minimum, you could look at your own husband as you spoke, and Naoya wondered if your actions were simply a phase in the relationship or a reveal of the real you. Whatever the reason, he wanted his good and obedient wife back.

“Well then, my apologies." His eye twitched as he spoke, and nothing now could hide the contempt rising in his tone. “Next time, I’ll make sure my assistants send you my entire itinerary from when I sleep to when I use the restroom to—"

Naoya couldn’t even think through his annoyance because, at this point, your phone was ringing for what must be the third time and that irked him even further.

“Please!” he scoffed, his vexation bursting through his voice. “Just excuse yourself and pick that shit up, good lord!”

At least that much you listened to. You pardoned yourself, stepping away just as Naoya pinched the bridge of his nose. On the one date he finally organized with his wife, you just had to ruin his mood with your shit attitude and table manners. Fantastic.

After one long huff, Naoya swung around in his seat and caught the attention of a nearby waiter.

The fuming executive then pointed at his glass.

“Another shot, ASAP."

As much as you were guilty of self-deprecation, you were not masochistic enough to simply swallow your husband’s insults over dinner.

‘Sex, you motherfucking dimwit.’

Simply thinking back to that line sent tiny pricks to your chest.

Did Naoya really think that, just because he mumbled that to himself under his breath, you wouldn’t hear him? What made you even more upset was that, when you asked for an apology, he could not even recognize his wrongs. There was more that you hoped to confront him about, too—particularly about the rumors of his extramarital affairs—but you had half the mind to shut up given his splenetic fury.

Whoever called you, however, thankfully provided you with a reason for reprieve.

You rushed out of the main restaurant venue as you curiously stared at your phone, noticing the missed calls from an unknown number. When the same contact information appeared on your screen in its fourth ring, you pressed the ‘Accept’ button only for the other line to greet you first.

“I still have your dress, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

Only one person called you that.

“Choso?” you nearly shouted in disbelief, unintentionally garnering the attention of some bystanders.

“That’s me alright,” the therapist answered, his reply cool and composed as though he never questioned the fact that his hands landed on your phone number. “I was just about to give up on reaching you.”

Overwhelmed, you sighed. “Sorry, I’m rather busy at the moment.”

“Right, right,” he mulled, a faint rumble sneaking in his tone. Choso then clicked his tongue against his teeth, and you could almost picture the blasé manner in which he would recline in a seat as some shuffling echoed over the line, which would have normally been irrelevant until he added, “Well, I’m downstairs.”

“What?!” was your first reaction. Now, you were certainly getting weird stares. Downstairs, as in, where? “Are you in—”

“Yes, Shibuya. You’re at Cé La Vi right now, aren’t you? Take the elevator down to the first floor. My car’s parked right outside the building’s main doors. That Dolce & Gabbana outfit I made you change out of before the club, I didn’t have a chance to return that since you stormed out of the meeting last night.”

You shut your dropped jaw. “The dress I remember but,” your gaze then narrowed, “how do you know where I am?”

The call suddenly grew quiet, the lull stretching for what must be an hour as Choso carefully contemplated his next words. “When you’re in the right business,” he hinted darkly, no doubt making a reference to his underbelly occupation, “information isn’t hard to come by once you know the right people.”

An assassin with eyes all over the city, huh?

Well, that explained how he got your number as well, albeit you would not be surprised if he had dug through the therapist office’s database for that instead. Sometimes, you had to wonder how an upper-class lady like you got entangled with a man like him, but a five-minute round trip to the first floor could not possibly hurt, right?

“I’ll meet you, then,” you eventually replied and ended the call.

Catching the first elevator car down, you had no trouble spotting the iconic blue Corvette convertible that stood outside the building’s entrance. Upon your approach, Choso rolled down his window and stuck his head out. This evening, his jet-black strands were pulled back into one low ponytail rather than two, his prominent jawline appearing even sharper against the nighttime backdrop.

No wonder this man had a whole harem in the club.

“Hey,” he hummed as his inky eyes ran down your figure, his gaze lingering a little longer on your exposed collarbone before traveling down to your legs. “I like your style.”

At the compliment, you looked away, feeling a bizarre prickle in your stomach. “I’m on a dinner date.”

“With Naoya?” Given how the therapists have recently revealed their disdain for your husband, you were not surprised to see Choso grimace. “Why…would you do that to yourself?”

Great question. “He’s paying, so I can’t complain.”

Choso pressed his lips outward, nodding when he could not argue against that. “I see.”

During the silence that ensued, you clicked your heels together, too busy floundering in the burning presence of your companion that you almost forgot the reason you were here in the first place. “Do…you have my dress?”

Nonchalantly, the man pointed to the back with his thumb. “In the trunk. What? You’re in a rush or something?”

You nodded slowly. “Naoya doesn’t know I’m down here," you explained but, given the psychological pain that your husband had inflicted on you, there was no good reason for guilt to be tugging at your lungs.

Even Choso narrowed his eyes. “You’re going back to that asshole?”

Another great question.

Without saying much, Naoya already made clear that his intention with you tonight was grounded only in sexual gratification, that he viewed you as nothing beyond—as he had put it—‘a motherfucking dimwit.’ Despite the pain, you never failed to find a reason to crawl back to the husband that lashed at your heart.

“Naoya is already angry at me,” you eventually remarked, twirling the edges of your dress. “If I don’t get back...”

“Then what? Even more of a reason to ditch him, to be honest. Maybe that will teach him a lesson for all the times he left you.” Choso was not the type to talk much, but he inevitably had the uncanny ability to leave you dumbstruck once he did. Oblivious to your state (or not), he then casually adjusted the braided bracelet at his wrist. “Better things to do with your time than stay with him.”

Funny that your first instinct was to defend Naoya again. However, even if you were to dutifully return to your husband, he would internally welcome you with apathy, his only goal to leave you smitten as a kitten just so he would have a pussy to play with.

Abandoning Naoya also came with one other problem, though. “There isn’t much else for me to do.”

How pitiful was that?

Sure, you had a stack of invitations to various charity dinners and networking parties, but—even with all the riches and respect in the world—you found those events pretentious, repetitive, and dull.

You half-expected Choso to mock you. (Because, really, who were you to complain about first-world problems?) However, the man just paused slightly, a dash of sympathy running over his expression as he then motioned to the empty shotgun seat.

“I could take you out for a ride.”

Your brows shot up. Tempting. “Where to?”

“Since I’m free tonight, I was going to take myself somewhere by Tokyo Bay—one of my favorite spots around,” Choso explained as he ran both his hands through his hair. “Although, if you’re interested, I could show you the area, too.”

At the proposal, you tried not to smile too obviously. Who knew that a hardened part-time hitman actually had such a soft spot?

“Then I’d love to.”

Choso drove off the second you jumped into the Corvette, the convertible greeting you with its familiar ashy honeysuckle scents and a The Neighbourhood tune. With a long exhale, you sank into the red leather seat and stared out the window, watching the nearby scenery transform from skyscrapers to highway signs.

Quietly, you relished the soothing silence in the car that was a refuge from the charged cacophony over dinner, reflecting on the steps that brought you to this moment. What a twist of fate, how the man who had detested you weeks ago was now a warm beacon that offered light in the merciless sea, providing you more comfort than you'd like to admit.

When you unconsciously turned in his direction, you tried to not stare too obviously at the metal on his ears, the piercings gleaming as they caught beams from bypassing streetlamps. You might have had a rough start with Choso Kamo, but you still found him ridiculously attractive with his oversized white sweater and black jeans, hiding his athletic physique underneath.

“Need me to pull up Google Maps?” you asked upon realizing your extended ogling.

“No,” he shot back. “I know this city like the back of my hand.”

And Choso sure seemed like he did.

He was focused solely on driving, his palms clasped around the steering wheel as his fingers drummed to the bass of ‘Sweater Weather.’

This close to him, you noticed how his hands were rough and calloused—almost definitive sign of working out. Right where he rolled up his sleeves, veins also weaved beneath his forearm tattoos, the inked vines something you never had the chance to examine extensively either.

This time, you weren’t too discreet given that he caught your gaze. “What?”

Oops. “Nothing.”

You turned away to look ahead, trying to calm your frenzied heart by observing some uninteresting cars on the expressway. A proper lady like you knew better than to gawk at someone for a prolonged time, yet you still got caught red-handed. How embarrassing.

Slumping further into your seat, you pouted as your weird way in mitigating the internal humiliation. “Just…keep your eyes on the road.”

While Choso did as he was told, he held back a low chuckle. “And you could keep your eyes on me.”

“But I wasn’t—!" A complete lie, but you still shouted with flailing arms, defenses hopeless.

Yet, what really disarmed you was Choso’s faint smirk.

One minute, you were frustrated and flustered; the next, you were simply stunned at the amused tilt in his lips, all because his smile was so rare. There was something enchanting about the cocky way Choso grinned as he stepped on the accelerator, the maniacal gleam in his eyes as he stared ahead, the bright colors of the Tokyo evening that glittered behind him.

“Jesus, take the fucking wheel,” you muttered like a starstruck teenager.

“What’s wrong?” he asked harmlessly because this man definitely heard you over the music. He threw you a quick glance even as the smile on his lips stayed. “I mean, you could keep staring if you want to, bimbo. I won’t judge.”

Mouth opened to back talk, your ambitions immediately got cut short as Choso moved a hand from the steering wheel to your inner thigh. While you hid your gasp at the unexpected contact, you only hoped that he did not notice the way you tensed under his searing touch.

But Choso noticed, alright.

“Hm, why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” Choso pressed again, his focus still on the lane as though he was not caressing you, massaging you, his thumb running in hypnotic circles centimeters away from the dull throb between your legs,

How he managed to maintain his composure in such a situation was a mystery given that you, unlike him, gripped hard at the side of your seat.

“Because…” you hissed after mustering all effort.

Then, you stopped.

How could you respond while completely distracted by the tightening in your stomach, practically holding your breath as his hand crept up higher? It was not helping that his fingers were so thick, that he had a small dagger printed by a knuckle, that his scent was reminiscent of burning maple leaves during a New England fall.

“‘Because…?’ Because what?” Choso asked, knocking your thoughts loose momentarily because he—on the other hand—did not miss your incomplete answer. His nails dug into your skin, nearly making you yelp at the incredible burn. “What’s the issue? I don’t remember you being this shy with the other therapists around.”

The steeliness that underlined his tone…

Was Choso still hung up about your frisky flings with Toji and Sukuna? Even though you should have never gotten sexually involved with them in the first place, you never would have thought that Choso would hold such a grudge.

In response, you cautiously observed his side profile. “Are…you jealous?”

He closed his eyes momentarily at the question, indescribable salaciousness etched on his lovely face, and he shuddered slightly. His eyes opened back as a sharpened glare, Adam’s apple bobbing as the result of a drawn-out swallow.

“Oh, baby,” he growled, and it was the backward tilt of his head that left your mind spinning, “you have no idea.”

Traveling beneath your dress, his hand roamed a little higher, then higher again, his pinky finger brushing at your panties’ seam such that if he decided to travel up any further, he might just feel how miserable and soaked you were.

Just hurt me, you begged silently, legs squeezing together subconsciously as you feel a delicious heat churning through your body, biting back a moan when Choso gripped hard at your thigh before smacking at the flesh.

“Harder,” you accidentally pleaded out loud, immediately clamping your hands over your mouth.

Unsurprisingly, your insanely handsome driver turned to you. When you met his gaze, you only wished that you hadn’t because Choso had a gaze that left you weak in the knees, the murky pool in his eyes enough to leave you whittled to a frantic and blubbering mess.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

“Well, I'm curious what your husband would say,” he interjected, debauchery bleeding in his tone, “when I send you home my handprints on your ass cheeks?”

Wow, that really took you aback.

“‘When?’” you bleated. Not ‘if?’

“Yes, ‘when,’” he confirmed with a hoarse thrum. His overflowing confidence clouded your head with something heady, something intoxicating. As much as you think you should tell Choso to stop, words were lodged in your throat once he forced your legs apart with one firm pull, and while you found pleasure in the pain, it was his next suggestion that sent sweet vibrations straight down your spine: “Because I wonder what would happen once I spread you over the car hood and took you right there.”

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numptypylon · 2 days

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hi numpty i re-read your cottage cuddles au and it’s really faster and cheaper than therapy, in general, I wanted ask if you are continuing to write a sequel? no rush or complaints, it's just one of my favorite stories and I'm curious. thank you!

It’s ongoing, yeah. It’s been half-written for YEARS, and it’s not even supposed to be very long, I just accidentally wrote a prequel instead and then a bunch of other stuff 😅 I wrote words on the sequel within the last week though, it’s not abandoned, just these days are ridiculously busy, ALL my fandom endeavors are on pause right now. It means a lot to hear you return to the fics, I wrote them to be comforting (pain can be comforting, leave me alone XD)

All the sequel teaser are in the [where the heart is] tag and I’ll post more soon 😊

I also have a few other cottage cuddles fics in the works, at least 2 far-future ones, one wedding based and one first day of school for cottage kiddo and Callum both (he'll return to uni in his 30s). I'll probably post a teaser of the wedding fic next wip wednesday, it's too late for today.

Have a teaser of the sequel though! You thought the sequel would be sexy? Nah, it be dumb. Very very dumb XD under the cut bc mildly nsfw but mostly very dumb

“Um. It’s… just… been a while. For me.”

“Callum. Dummy.” She cupped his cheeks. “We live together. I know it’s been a while. I know I joked about… how good I am at sex but… I’ve never had sex with you. I don’t expect to know everything or for you to. I like you a whole lot, and we’ll make it work if you have the two-penis phenotype, you know I’m flexible in the penis-count department-”

He sputtered, choking on a bit of toothpaste, and the nervousness lifted like magic, because laughter was like that and… Rayla was like that.

“I love you,” he said, relishing in saying it, in letting it spill over as it came to him instead of getting bottled up inside him like a heartfelt-speech-timebomb. “And my junk is… very average. Average size and amount of everything. My hands are big, and I know there’s a stereotype, but it doesn’t hold up, in my case.”

“So you have 1.928 balls? Plenty of men have less than two, and more than two is a lot rarer-“

“Median!” he laughed. “I have a median amount of everything!” Rayla had so resented her obligatory statistics class she had resolved to use it in her daily life because it was so irrelevant to her work life. “Now, who’s a dork?”

#ask #thanks for asking <3 #cottage cuddles au #where the heart is #rayllum #numpty fic tag #dumbest zuppi braincell moment reference because I must

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justfandomwritings · 2 years

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I have been devouring your content for the past few days and let me say: your writing is absolutely AMAZING! The way you write Jake is just chefs kiss. Jake and Addie are my new OTP

That said, I have read everything you have written about these two, the fic and all the OTP questions as well. But I have this very specific itch that will not leave me alone which you kind of touched on in one of your asks. What do you think Addie would be like if Jake got into an accident while flying? Nothing major obvs, but maybe a really bad scare?

No Callsigns

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female!Reader (Addie)

Word Count: 3.1k (Idk how that happened)

Warnings: whole thing takes place in a hospital, panic attack, character is seriously injured but the injuries are not described in any way, some light angst but with a happy ending

Notes: I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but this little scene has been playing around in my head for a long time. This is Addie reacting to Jake being injured, but it's not really an angst heavy introspective of how it makes her feel. It's more how it would play out.

This is a prequel to The Only Thing, but it can be read without reading the only thing. This story takes place before Jake goes to Top Gun the first time as a student but after he becomes a pilot.... Also Featuring Iceman and Coyote because why not.

“Seresin residence, you’ve got Addie.” Addie tucked the phone between her cheek and her shoulder to free up her hands as she turned back to the sauce bubbling away on the stove.

It was Thursday night. Thursday night meant family dinner in the Seresin household, and the girls, Addie included, took turns rotating who cooked. Normally, it would’ve been Ronnie’s turn, but she was back in Austin studying for an organic chemistry final. Which meant it should’ve been Andy’s turn, only Andy was off in New York at a high school friend’s bachelorette party. Which meant it should’ve been Debbie if not for the fact that Debbie’s sister was in town and demanded the two go to the city for the night.

Kate had offered to order the two of them Chinese food so neither had to cook, but Addie had been perusing the Seresin family recipes again and decided it was time to try her hand at Debbie’s world – or at least county – famous marinara sauce.

Things were shaping up quite nicely before the phone began to ring.

“This is Admiral Tom Kazansky, US Pacific Fleet Commander. I’m calling to speak to Miss Debbie Seresin.”

Addie’s back straightened involuntarily. The wooden spoon in her hand slipped lower in the sauce as her grip on it loosened.

“She’s not in at the moment...” Addie didn’t really know what to say. “Can-Can I take a message?”

There was a quiet sigh on the other end of the phone. So quiet she almost missed it. So quiet she almost missed the melancholy coloring its’ tone. “Unfortunately not. Do you know how long until she’ll be back?”

The man’s voice didn’t turn up at the end the way one normally would to indicate a question. It stayed flat and even, like he didn’t have the energy to raise his voice, or perhaps more likely that the words were too heavy, too weighed down to be lifted up in any way.

“W-What happened to Jake?”

It wasn’t a question she was supposed to ask. Addie knew that. She’d had that talk with Jake before.

If something happened to him, she would have to find out from Debbie. The Navy didn’t exactly recognize ‘besties’ as a category for immediate disclosure. If he got hurt… or worse, the Navy would call his mom until he had a wife or kids.

“Pardon?” The high-ranking admiral on the other end of the line was, no doubt, not used to being questioned.

Addie wasn’t supposed to ask, wasn’t supposed to cause a scene, wasn’t supposed to stick her nose in. Jake had made it very clear that, much as he wanted them to tell her, much as he didn’t want her to find out second hand or have to wait for news, much as he loved her, the Navy would make her wait. She would have to wait, not on him, never on him, but certainly on them.

But Addie couldn’t help it. When Jake told her all those things, told her that if she ever got a call she would have to get ahold of his mom, told her that she shouldn’t barrage whoever called with questions, told her that she would have to get any news after the fact, told her to be on her best behavior if something really bad ever happened and someone important made the call… When he told her that, he’d never been on the receiving end.

He’d never felt his throat close up knowing that best case scenario she was in an ICU bed somewhere. He’d never gone weak in the knees when someone told him they could neither confirm nor deny that she was dead. He’d never spent hours waiting by a phone with the news blasting over loud speakers knowing she was going into a combat zone where she could be killed any second, knowing the six o’clock news might be told before him.

Jake had never gotten a phone call from someone telling him she was dead or dying, and he would never have to worry about getting that phone call, not really. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if their roles were reversed he would be so much worse.

“You’re a Fleet Commander; you wouldn’t be calling un-unless some-something really bad happened to Jake.” She felt out of breath, like she’d run a mile. Maybe it was the way her throat felt like she was breathing through a straw.

“Ma’am I’m not at liberty to discuss that with anyone other than Lieutenant Seresin’s next of kin.”

There was a loud crack followed by the sound of breaking glass. The salad bowl, balanced on the kitchen island behind her toppled to the ground and shattered as she stumbled back.

Next of kin. He was looking for Jake’s next of kin.

Addie gasped for air. “Is he alive?” Her words came out in a pant.

“Ma’am…”

She didn’t hear any more than that as Kate burst into the room.

“Addie, what’s…”

Addie was hyperventilating now. A hand on the island behind her, gripping the granite so hard her nails were cracking under the pressure, was all that kept her from sinking to the ground, unintentionally kneeling in the shattered glass around her.

Her hand pulled the phone away from her ear and waved it blindly in Kate’s direction as she desperately tried to catch her breath, tried to steady her shaking legs, tried to calm herself down.

“Who is this?” Kate’s tone was demanding, accusatory as she snatched the phone away from Addie. There was a brief pause as Kate’s face contorted. She clearly wasn’t getting the answer she wanted, or an answer at all.

“This is his sister, Kate. Now tell me who is calling, and why does Addie look like she’s having a panic attack?”

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

“Addie?”

Addie’s head jerked up at the sound of the name.

It was a pilot calling her. She recognized him immediately. One of Jake’s friends, the only Navy friend of Jake’s she’d met so far.

“Coyote, right?”

Coyote nodded and crossed the room in long, sure strides to stand beside her chair. There were seats open all around her, but he didn’t make a move to occupy any of them. He stood, feet shoulder-width apart, hands tucked behind his back. There was no rocking or shifting to his stance like there would’ve been a civilians, no pacing or show of emotions. He was soldier.

“Your Jake’s wingman?” Addie pulled her legs up into the seat with her, hugging them against her chest as she stared up at the man standing over her.

“Yes ma��am,” Coyote wasn’t looking down at her. He was looking straight ahead at some unknown point on the waiting room wall.

“Please don’t call me ma’am. You can call me (Y/n), or Addie, whatever you prefer.” Addie sighed, slumping back in the chair to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m not old enough to be called ma’am. Jake calls me ma’am when he says I’m being a buzzkill.”

“From the stories Jake tells me, ma’am, that can’t be often.”

Addie’s eyes flashed back from the ceiling, just for a second, to see the corner of Coyote’s lips tugging up. He suppressed it well, but the amusement was still there. “You’re not much of a buzzkill either from what he tells me.”

“I try not to be.”

There was an amicable silence for several long moments. Coyote standing vigilant, staring at the wall behind her head, Addie tracing patterns in the ceiling with her eyes.

It was Coyote who broke it. “Are they… not allowing visitors yet?”

“They let his mom and Kate back about ten minutes before you got here.” Addie quickly corrected. “Two at a time. I let them go first.”

“Would you mind if I came in with you?” Coyote’s tone was constantly polite, deferential. It fit with the military man she knew he was, but she couldn’t reckon it with the stories Jake told her about his friend who seemed like absolute mayhem. “I know you’ll want some time alone with him. I’ll only need a minute. I just need…”

Coyote’s voice fell away, choked on a word Addie wasn’t sure which. It drew her eyes back from the ceiling, tilting her neck down to a more reasonable angle to look at his face.

Coyote’s gaze finally left the wall. It was like watching him pull himself together, draw up the courage to meet her gaze not that that made any sense. “It’ll only take a minute. I need to thank him, ma’am.”

“Thank him? What for?”

Coyote visibly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, but he made no other display of emotion even as he said, “Because, ma’am, I would be dead right now if he weren’t in that bed.”

A dawning realization crossed Addie, her jaw going slightly slack. “The medal… You’re the pilot he...”

“Yes ma’am.”

Addie gave a thoughtful nod. Much as it hurt her, pained her, filled her with overwhelming dread to think of Jake lying cooped up in a hospital bed, Commander what’s-his-name had painted a marvelous tale of heroism for Debbie once she finally returned home, and he told her the story.

And now she had a face and a name to put to the ‘fellow aviator’ whose life Jake had saved. A face she knew, a name she liked, a nice guy with his whole future ahead of him because of Jake’s skill and sacrifice.

“Of course,” Addie choked out, “you’re welcome to come in with me.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Coyote’s head turned back up to face the wall. He was only staring at it, and she was only staring at him, for a minute more before the doors behind him swung open.

“Addie, sweetie,” Debbie crossed the room in a flash of worry seeing yet another Navy uniform standing in front of one of ‘her own’.

“Debbie, this is Coyote,” Addie jumped straight to introductions even before she made it to her feet. “He’s going to come inside with me to see Jake for a minute if that’s alright. He is Jake’s wingman.”

Kate approached behind her mother, sticking out her hand to the aviator, “It’s Javy, right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Debbie hugged Addie, ignoring Kate as she seemed ready to vet Coyote before allowing him entrance. “He’s doing a lot better than he looks,” Debbie whispered in Addie’s ear, hiding her voice in the tones of Kate and Coyote’s polite small talk in the background. “Really, the doctors say he’ll be his usual handsome self in no time and back to flying in a couple months. Don’t worry yourself to death, okay sweetie?”

“I’ll try not to.” Addie’s tone was as clipped as she felt.

Debbie pulled out of the hug and jerked her head towards the door. “Get on in there; you look like you’re barely stayin’ in your skin you wanna leave so bad.”

Addie nodded. She clearly wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding the fact that she was ready to bolt.

“They made Jake sign a couple waivers for you,” Kate added before Addie could leave. “But it should all be sorted out now. They all know you’re staying the night and to talk to you.”

“Thanks Kate.”

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

“Jake,” Addie’s voice broke on his name as she froze in the doorway.

‘He’s doing a lot better than he looks.’

He didn’t look good.

Hospital gown slung low around his neck with wires running down under the fabric, needles poking from IV bags into one arm, head lulled back against a pile of uncomfortable looking pillows, an oxygen mask hanging loose around his neck, and a bag partially filled with what could only be urine connected to a tube that ran up under his thick pile of blankets.

The air was filled with the smell of chemicals and the constant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Addie,” Jake croaked out. His voice was rough, deep and crackling as if he’d been screaming nonstop for days which she knew he hadn’t.

Addie couldn’t help it. She flung herself across the room to his bedside. She’d not said a word about waiting for Debbie to get back from the city to find out what had happened. She’d not said a word while they waited in the airport for the first plane out to the base. She’d not said a word waiting for the taxi to the hospital. She’d even held herself back to let his family see him, knowing she wouldn’t be able to leave once she was in the room.

But now that she was in the room she couldn’t hold herself back. She balanced herself on the free inch of space at the edge of his bed and gave in to the absolute panic and desperation that had been warring quietly inside of her since the moment she managed to swallow them down in his family’s kitchen.

One of her hands reached across his body and clutched his left hand in a vice grip. It was almost the only inch of skin free of any signs of what happened. Her other went straight to his cheek, cupping it in her hand as the tears finally began to fall.

“When that admiral called I thought for sure you were dead.” She didn’t sob. Her voice was soft, calm, and unwavering even despite the tears. “I was so scared. I broke your mom’s favorite bowl. I couldn’t form a sentence; Kate thought I was in shock.”

Jake sighed and leaned his cheek into her hand. The rough cuts and scratches to the skin there brushed against her palm and reminded her that every part of him would be effected by this in some way. “You’re gonna have to try a little harder if you wanna get rid of me, darlin’.”

Addie smiled through the tears and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss, barely more than a brush of her lips, to his forehead. “Noted, next time I’ll do it myself.”

“I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

Addie chuckled and turned her face into his neck. Her temple brushed against his shoulder, and Jake winced. “Sorry.” She pulled back immediately.

“It’s alright, Addie,” Jake smiled up at her. Even his smile was scarred. His lip split in more than one place along it’s usually silky smooth lines. “Having you here makes up for it.”

“Well in that case, you should know I brought a friend.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Jake tried to laugh but immediately winced at the motion shaking his chest, “I only wanna see you.”

“I know,” Addie conceded easily and without any show of false modesty, “but I think you need to see him too.” Her fingers went to his hair, absently brushing the sweaty, greasy flyaways out of his face as she glanced back over her shoulder.

Coyote stepped in from where he’d been standing in the doorway. Jake’s senses, usually razor sharp, hadn’t so much as gotten a whiff at the other pilot. Whether that was due to his current state or the all-consuming peace that visibly washed over him the moment Addie walked in the room, no one could be sure.

“Hangman, I…”

“You don’t get to call him that here.”

It came out with more bite than Addie meant it to. She hadn’t intended it to have any at all, in fact. She’d only meant to say it matter-of-factly, but the emotions boiling up inside her simply could not be contained when she heard that callsign, that word.

“It’s fine, Addie.”

“No it’s not.” Addie looked to the floor to try to hide the glare that was forming in her eyes, but her words didn’t need an accompanying glare to convey how upset she was. “His name is Jake, and he wouldn’t be here if he hung you out to dry.”

“Addie…” Jake’s tone was placating.

“She’s right,” Coyote cut him off. “I’m sorry… Jake, I came here to thank you not insult you.”

Jake looked up at Coyote, utterly shocked. They were friends, certainly, but no one, not even his friends, had batted an eye when his squadron assigned him his callsign. No one batted an eye using it every day. No one ever questioned if he deserved it.

“You saved my life today, Jake, and I can never repay you for that.”

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Addie couldn’t lay down with Jake in the hospital bed, much as it would have been both of their preference.

The nurses had spotted her sitting back against the pillows with him in the early evening hours and immediately put a stop to that and any other notions of Addie getting on the bed.

Instead, she’d shuffled the uncomfortable plastic couch in the corner up against the bed in what she was sure was a safety violation but could not have cared less at that moment in time.

The couch was much lower than the bed, but it was close enough that she could curl up and still reach a hand up to hold Jake’s.

“You didn’t have to do that today, Addie.” Jake murmured into the absolute stillness of the night.

The rest of the floor seemed to be asleep, even the beeping of his heart monitor had seemingly faded to a background drone. They were, at that moment, in the silence of the hospital and the darkness of the night, the only two people in the world.

“Yes I did,” Addie countered in a similarly quiet voice.

“Addie, they call me Hangman for a reason.” Jake gently pushed back. “I don’t like to admit it any more than you, but I earned that name. I hang them out to dry in training every day, and if it came down to it in a fight I probably would hang them out then too.”

“You didn’t though,” Addie reminded him quietly. “When the cards were down, you risked your life to save his.”

“And I almost didn’t make it.” Jake didn’t need to remind her of that. The awkward position holding hands through the railing of his bed did a fine job of that. “When I did it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. How you met Coyote, how you liked Coyote, how you joked that the two of you would be really good friends one day… and I thought… I thought, ‘I have to go for it.’ For you.”

Addie’s hand tightened her grip on his, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “Well, that’s… morbid.” She propped an elbow on the back of the couch and lifted her head just over the edge of the bed to give Jake a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess I’m just only allowed to meet friends you’d be willing to die for.”

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