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generallybrontidefeelings · 3 years

Text

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

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You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

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

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

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

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

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

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #the mentalist fanfiction #I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab #it does exist #DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES #IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DON'T DO IT #I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS #BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DONT #DO #IT

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misterghostfrog · 3 years

Photo

[IMAGE ID; a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood carrying Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat freckled white man with curly ginger hair that is shaved close at the sides. He has a pair of round framed glasses in a bright red, under the glasses he is wearing eyeliner, and a navy eyeshadow. He has black lipstick, two black snakebite piercings under his lip, and a small black nostril piercing. His ear has a large black piercing that cuffs a chain to a small black piercing higher up his ear, and one final black piercing in the middle. He has a black choker, and then a looser chain necklace with an eye ornament on it. He has a studded lather jacket on that is covered in multiple patches and pins, mostly hidden by Jon: of the visible pins there is a trans flag patch on his chest, and on his shoulder is a large dark colored patch that has A-C-A-B on it in white. Under the Jacket is a black shirt that he has partly tucked into his pants, the shirt has a large anarchy symbol drawn on it in red. Under that he is wearing jeans that are significantly ripped as far as we can see. On his right hand he has several black rings, and his nails are painted black. Jon is a skinny Jordanian man with brown eyes and shoulder-length grey-streaked dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of his neck. He has a beard beginning to grow that appears to be the product of forgetting to shave. He is covered in a series of small round scars that vary in exact size. He is wearing a pair of rectangle-framed glasses, a plain t-shirt, a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee, and converse. Martin is carrying Jon bridal style in his arms, and is looking away, he is blushing, though his expression is concerned and appears to be speaking. Jon has his arms wrapped around Martins neck, his cheeks are darkened and he is staring at hte ground with an expression somewhere between fear and the face one makes when they’re having to retrace every step they’ve taken to get here. END ID]

Punk Martin but make it Jonmartin.

Also I wrote a lil thing to go along with this under the cut, its only barely edited because it was mostly for fun so be warned its a big ol mess! But its s2 jonmartin nonsense with Martin being very cool and attractive and Jon being seven layers deep in denial (Also I may have written Jon as a touch autistic because its projection hours tonight i’m too sleepy to mask and that goes for writing too babey)

(Mentions of worms, past injuries, and Jon dealing with some internalised ableism and general foolishness)

Jon forgot his cane.

It’s a relatively regular occurrence, for a multitude of reasons. For one thing it’s something of a recent addition to the list of things he needs to keep track of when he leaves the house. Another lovely parting gift from Prentiss, a worm in his left leg that went just quick enough to start burrowing into the bone before it was removed.

For another, he really has other things to worry about. And if it doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t matter. Most days he can get by just fine without it- it hurts of course. But not so much he can’t support himself, and really, does he need it otherwise?

Martin and Tim don’t seem to agree, though Sasha has kept respectfully to herself on the whole business. Martin, of course, he trusts. Albeit only recently. But that doesn’t make him right, his priorities are warped. Naturally. He doesn’t see the bigger picture.

(or at least that’s what Jon tells himself)

Which is what leads to this moment, sitting on a bench outside the shop, single grocery bag by his feet. He’d only run out to get a few things, but somewhere between the his flat the the shop his barely visible limp had become more pronounced as his hip began to throb, then he was halfway through the frozens when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to finish the trip. After that he’d barely made it through checkout to the nearest seat before all but collapsing into it.

And now he’s sitting, stuck. An insurmountable walk from home, without his stupid cane. Which, he notes, he wouldn’t need if he’d brought in the first place. Funny how that works.

“Jon?” A familiar voice jolts him out of his thoughts. Jon jolts upright. Martin.

He knows Martin lives in the area, a side effect of his... investigations. Though he was unaware he used the same shop. He looks up, a greeting or perhaps a question on his lips that dies as soon as he actually lays eyes on Martin.

Martin is wearing a leather jacket. Not just a leather jacket of course, but that’s the first thing Jon can process. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket covered in various patches that advertise various opinions and identities that Jon doesn’t have time to think about. His jeans are about as much rip as they are Jean, and he’s got piercings- and eyeliner. he’s dressed like he should be riding a motorcycle, not the beat-up red bike he’s got beside him.

“Are you alright?” Martin says, and Jon realizes he’s been staring.

“Are you going to a costume party?” Jon blurts instead of answering. A costume party would make sense, of course. Martin doesn’t dress like this, he dresses like- like-

It occurs to him dimly that he’s never encountered Martin outside of work, at least never in a scenario that would allow him to change out of his work clothes. And some part of him has always assumed that sweaters and khakis were simply how he dressed. It suited him, really. Or Jon had assumed, but then again he assumed anything familiar is suiting.

“Wh- A- no?” Martin answers, looking vaguely offended. Jon flushes.

“I- sorry, I just- I’ve... I didn’t think you seemed the type to dress... like that...?” Jon fumbles, pathetically trying to salvage the conversation. Judging by Martins expression, he’s failing.

Martin opens his mouth to say something, and Jon realizes there’s likely no coming back from this particular mortification. He snatches the bag by his feet and moves to stand. Some excuse already tumbling out when the reason for his sit-down, which had dulled to a shockingly forgettable throb, decides to remind him of his place in the world.

He lets out a cry of pain, and crumples. Only stopped from hitting the ground by a pair of arms that wrap around his chest and under his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Jon. Are you alright- what- is it your leg? Where’s your cane-” Martin babbles, Gently replacing Jon on his bench as Jon breathes through gritted teeth.

“It’s fine- i’m fine Martin I-” he sighs, studiously avoiding Martins gaze. “My cane is at home.” He tries not to sound chastised as he says the last part- he shouldn’t have to after all. He’s still Martins boss. He shouldn’t be looking away like he’s been caught at something.

“Jon” Martin sounds exasperated, and Jon crosses his arms. Once again, nothing like someone being scolded. He’s not being scolded. He’s an adult. “How long have you been sitting here like this?”

“I...” Jon begins before trailing off, he’s not actually sure. The period between sitting on the bench and the pain dulling enough for him to think through the fog is something is a blur. He is pretty sure someone asked if he was alright at some point. His lack of answer seems to be enough for Martin though.

“Just give me a moment.” He says, stepping away from Jon over to his bike- which has fallen over onto the ground -pulling it upright and over to Jon on the bench. He pushes down the rusted kickstand with a hearty kick- and Jon briefly notes he’s wearing steel-toed boots -and sets the bike gently upright.

“Okay, so! If you sit on the bike I can push it, and you can get home and rest that leg without jostling it too much by trying to walk without your cane.” He says pointedly. Jon makes a face,

“This... this really isn’t necessary Martin- I’m perfectly capable-” He grumbles, waving a hand dismissively. But a glance at Martins expression shuts him up quick.

“Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Jon pauses, the memory of the white-hot flash of pain still fresh in his mind. He grimaces, shaking his head. Martin hums thoughtfully. “Alright, would you be alright if I picked you up? Just for a moment to get you on the bike” He asks carefully.

Jon hesitates, looking between Martin and the bike. And weighs his options. After several seconds he nods. Martin smiles, and Jon feels something in his chest flutter. Anxiety at his decision most likely. Or perhaps nerves in relation to sitting on a bike, he’s never ridden one- of course Martin will be doing all the work but surely there’s some sort of balance required isn’t there? Really he shouldn’t be riding a bike like this-

Those thoughts are all swept away at the feeling of large warm hands gently scooping him off the bench. He instinctively throws his arms around Martins neck for support as he’s lifted into the air.

He can feel Martins chest warm against his side as Martin holds him close, one hand on his shoulder and the other supporting his legs. He’s being cradled by his subordinate, carefully as so not to jostle his leg. And all he can think about is how warm Martin is. He’s large and soft despite all the sharper accessories and he smells a bit like leather and tea on top of whatever soap he uses. Probably something that Jon wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to his head. And Jon can see the freckles on Martins cheeks and neck close enough to count if he wanted to even as he looks away, saying something Jon can’t quite parse because he’s too busy reeling from the realization he’d be happy to sit in Martins arms like this for the rest of his life.

His face goes hot and he forces himself to look down at the ground. The pain is clearly messing with his head, or perhaps the sleep deprivation. Or perhaps he’s still riding the high from that moment of realization that Martin isn’t trying to kill him, that he can trust him.

Either way he’s not thinking straight, which is why he’s dissapointed instead of relieved when Martin gently places him on the bike with the exact amount of care he took in picking him up. Which shouldn’t make him feel so oddly jittery but it does.

The ride is quiet, aside from awkward instructions from Jon on where to turn as Martin guides them carefully along the sidewalk. They miss a turn once because Jons too preoccupied with the feeling of Martins arm bumping against his shoulder as he guides the bike.

And then they’re at Jons flat, and Jon once again feels that misplaced disappointment. He wonders if perhaps Martin will carry him up to his flat, and his face burns again as the silliness of the thought hits him.

Martin does very, very briefly lift him to help him off the bike when he stumbles. But his leg has recovered enough that he can make it up to his flat without assistance, or so he tells Martin. Who looks unconvinced.

“Let me at least walk with you, yea? That way I know for sure you got home safe.” He insists, and Jon forced himself to be displeased with the situation.

It ends up being a good thing Martin came along though, a partway up the steps the railing is no longer enough to support Jon, and he ends up half-carried the rest of the way. Martins arm under his shoulder, his own loops around Martins back, gripping the jacket for support. He can feel his head drifting at the contact- Martin is just so damned warm and safe and Martin it’s impossible not to get distacted.

He forces himself to think about something else, anything else. The jacket- he can feel the leather under his fingertips and it’s as good distraction as any.

It’s a nice jacket, really. Clearly well-worn. And it does suit Martin, in an odd sort-of way.

Jon winces internally, remembering the conversation from earlier. He hadn’t meant to come off so... well. It doesn’t matter. Except that it does, even though it doesn’t, but it does.

Once they reach Jons door, he pushes off of Martin to lean on the wall while he fumbles for his keys. Martin lingers as he does so, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly in the silence.

Jon finds his keys and sighs in relief as the door swings open.

He nearly wanders inside and shuts the door before remembering basic human etiquette. He pauses in the doorway, turning to Martin. Who smiles awkwardly.

“Thank you.” He says stiffly, still leaning heavily on the doorframe. “That was... very kind. Of you.” Martin shakes his head.

“It’s nothing, really. Couldn’t exactly just leave you there, could I?”

Jon shifts awkwardly, wincing at the brief weight on his leg. He’s right of course, morally at least. If not logically.

“I... I suppose not.” He says, hesitating before adding “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Jon. I already said it’s fine-”

“No-” Jon grimaces “not for that. I- I meant... for what I said. About your clothes. They don’t... I just- I didn’t expect it, and I may have come off as... rude.” He mutters

“Oh.” Martin says flatly, Jons sure he’d forgotten about that until just now, and he wishes he could have kept it that way.

“they do suit you, though.” He says, after an awkward pause. “Your clothes, I mean. It looks- you look nice.” he finishes as genuinely as he can- he does mean it. Of course, he just doesn’t know how to make it sound like he does.

“Oh” Martin says again, brightening slightly, his cheeks going blotchy red in a blush. “I- er- thank you...? I suppose?”

“Yes. Well. Your welcome, I suppose.” There’s another awkward pause, Martin isn’t quite smiling at Jon, but there’s something soft in his expression Jon can’t quite parse. “ Have a good day, Martin.” He says finally, after a long pause. Martins cheeks redden again.

“Oh- yeah, er. You too Jon- and take care of yourself. Alright?”

Jon nods, and Martin smiles. And Jon thinks he’d like to see Martin smile a bit more.

He waves as Martin heads down the stairs, he can hear Martin humming as he goes.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #punk martin #fic #art #fanfic #fanart #ghostly doodle #ghostly doodles #Jons a mess!#and Martin has cool fashions #ghostly scribbles

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laventae · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu boys - Pretending to be your boyfriend

Miya Atsumu

Summary: Oneshot stories of random situations where the boys pretend to be your boyfriends, but y’all also kinda like each other?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x F!reader

Genre: Fluff?, a bit of angst?, College/Uni au

Word count: 6.6k words

Warnings: Mild cursing

Buzz

The bees buzz around the flowers next to the bench you were sitting on, as you wait for him to show up.

It's been years since you last saw him, and you made up your mind that when you see him this time, you'll be honest with your feelings for him.

Buzz

You look around the park.

This was it, the place where you first accidentally bumped against each other. And ever since that time, you couldn't stop thinking about him. You knew it then, and you still know it now.

He's definitely the one.

"Y/n?" You hear someone call out behind you.

You jump out of your seat as you turn around and see him running towards you.

Buzz Buzz

You can feel all of your senses heighten, clearly hearing the bees buzz as loud as ever, the flowers smell as sweet as ever, the wind blowing a beautiful melody.

You get up and meet him halfway.

"Y/n, I-, ever since I met you, you changed my whole life. There’s-, there's nobody else for me but you, and I-”

"I love you" you finish his sentence, before you close your eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss.

BUZZ BUZZ

You hear the bees buzz even louder. The loudest this time.

'What the fuck?'

You open your eyes to find yourself back in your dark room, lying in bed. Your phone vibrating on your bedside table.

"Are you kidding me?" You groan as you drop your head back on your pillow.

BUZZ BUZZ

"Who the fuck is even calling me right now? Its 12am!" You exclaim loudly.

You grab your phone and check the caller ID.

CALLING: IDIOTSUMU

You groan and answer his call.

"You better be dying, Tsumu" you hiss at him as you close your eyes again.

You hear him chuckle on the other side of the line, "Open the door for me, I'm outside your apartment, and it’s freezing" he whisper yells.

You try to register what he just told you.

"Right now? It's 12am on a weekend, I'm tryna sleep in peace" you tell him as you yawn, getting more comfortable in bed.

"GET UP Y/N!" you hear him yell and that jolts you out of your sleepy state.

"Okay fine, fine, stop yelling! And don't let the neighbors hear or they’ll kick me out because of you" you answer him annoyed, as you get out of bed and head for your door.

You hear him giggle, knowing he won.

"And stop giggling like a little school girl" you continue which only gets him to giggle even more.

You close the phone as you open the door to your apartment and you find him standing there, drenched in rain.

You sigh.

"What now?" you ask him, unamused.

He gives you the most innocent smile he could muster, "can I crash here again tonight?"

"Would you even accept no for an answer?"

"Of course not, thanks y/n!" He says as he jumps in for a hug.

"Get off me, you're wet!" You exclaim but it's too late, the damage is done, so you just give in and hug him back as you close the door.

"Oops," he says as he lets go, both of you knowing full well he did it on purpose, "I'll have to borrow some clothes that I left here last time" he continues, as he makes himself home, going through your fridge to see if you have any leftovers.

"There’s some food leftover from lunch I made today," you sigh as you sit on a stool in your small kitchen. He shoots you a thankful look and a wink, "so what excuse are you gonna give me for crashing at my place again this time, huh? You think I run a hostel here? You know, I was literally having the best dream in the world before you woke me up. We literally almost kissed this time and-"

"Was it with that stupid high school crush of yours, again?" He asks as he takes a seat on the stool next to yours and starts munching on the leftovers.

"He’s not stupid, okay?" You glare at him and he gives you an innocent smile. "He was so dreamy," you sigh lovingly as you think back on your dream again.

'If I go back to sleep right now, I'd probably-'

"No, you wouldn't be able to finish your dream if you go back to sleep right now" Atsumu casually says as if he heard your thoughts.

You glare at him again, "Besides... Will you just forget about him? I'm literally right here, why would you need any other man?" he continues as he wiggles his eyebrows at you with a smirk on his face.

You scoff at him in disbelief, "Oh, as if" you say as you get up from your seat and head to your room.

"You need some company in bed tonight, sweetheart?" You hear him teasingly shout from where he was sitting before you slam the door of your room loudly as a reply.

You hear him chuckle and you can’t help but laugh as well.

An hour passes while you toss and turn in bed; somehow you just can't fall back asleep anymore, you were wide awake.

You sigh and give up, opting to just stare at the ceiling and try to think about your plans for the next day.

You then hear Atsumu quietly knock on your bedroom door. For some reason, you just didn't have the mental willpower to deal with him, so you close your eyes and pretend to be asleep.

He knocks quietly, once again, before he opens the door and whispers your name.

"Y/n, you still up?" He asks. It’s quiet enough not to wake you up if you were actually asleep, but loud enough to be heard.

When he doesn't get a reply, he walks in quietly. You hear some rustling in your closet, probably looking for some of his clothes he left over at your place.

After a couple of minutes, you feel your bed dip, as Atsumu takes a seat on the side of your bed.

'What is he up to? Is he going to scare me awake as a prank or something??' You think before you feel him place his index finger on your forehead, then starts softly tracing your face as he goes down to the bridge of your nose then down to your lips.

His finger lingers for a bit before he moves a strand of hair off your face.

He quietly sighs, sounding defeated.

"Thank you," you hear him quietly whisper, before he slowly gets off the bed, reach for the door and gently closes it.

Your eyes snap open as soon as you hear him leave your room and you feel your face flush a bit.

'What's he being so fucking weird for?' you think before turning in your bed and falling fast asleep.

-~-~-

You hear you alarm ringing and you groan as you reach for your phone.

Dismiss

You stretch in bed for a minute before you decide that it's time to get up.

You let out a yawn as you reach for your bedroom door and open it.

'Breakfast... what do I make for breakfast' you think as you make your way to the bathroom, before you get startled when you notice Atsumu sleeping on your couch.

"Oh my god, I forgot he was here" you whisper to yourself as you mentally facepalm.

You look back at him and notice the blanket he was using to cover himself, was on the floor.

'How can you sleep like that, it’s freezing' you silently judge him as you sigh and walk over to where he is sleeping.

You bend down to reach the blanket and slowly try to place it over him.

You bend down again next to the couch and smooth over the blanket over his chest.

'Looks much better now,' you think as you sigh, 'this boy is too much work...'

You lean in closer

'He looks like he’s having a good dream', you smile, 'and you know what, he actually doesn't look half-bad when his mouth is shu-’

"I look handsome even when I'm asleep, don't I," he says as he snaps you out of your thoughts. He opens his eyes and turn to you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You feel your face flush slightly.

'Did he just catch me staring at him?? I won't fucking hear the end of this...'

"AS IF!" you exclaim as you get up quickly, and start to walk away.

But you feel him grab your wrist and pull you back down before you get the chance to leave.

You fall on him, your faces inches apart.

You both look equally as startled by the closeness of your faces and you notice his eyes fall to your lips for a moment.

"What?" You ask him, trying to sound annoyed, while trying your best to keep your composure.

'This is so ridiculous. It’s Tsumu, my childhood best friend, why am I getting flustered right now?'

He quickly looks back up to your eyes again, seeming like he finally snapped out of his thoughts as well, "your breath stinks, sweetheart" he finally says, his smirk back on his face.

'Ah... what was I even getting flustered for...?'

"Oh, fuck you," you say pushing him and he lets go of your wrist, "I was on my way to the bathroom you know" you continue, annoyed, as you get up and head to your original destination, and you hear him chuckle behind you.

"Just get up and stop being a lazy ass!" You yell at him one final time before you get in the bathroom and shut the door. You faintly hear him chuckle again.

You slam your head on the bathroom door.

"Ouch..."

'Ugh, he's always teasing you like that, why do you still fall for it??'

You sigh and reach for the sink.

You freshen up for a couple of minutes before you decide to finally leave the bathroom.

You hear some rustling coming from the kitchen and you make your way there.

He whistles as he eyes you up and down, “Damn, I can never get sick of seeing you wearing my shirts,” he says and winks at you.

You look down and notice you were wearing one of the shirts he left over at your place.

“Shut up, it’s not my fault they’re comfortable” you shrug it off.

“Aha, sureee~” he teases you and wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’m going to change” you say with a straight face as you turn back to head to your room

“Heyy,” he laughs as he grabs your hand, pulling you back into the kitchen, “take a joke, will you?” he shakes his head and you just pout.

“Come on, have breakfast with me” he says as he pushes you to sit on one of the stools.

“What’re we feeling today? Scrambled eggs? Cereal? Grilled cheese?”

“Hmm...” you take your time to think, “cereal”

“Coming right up!”

-~-~-

A couple of hours pass after you’ve both finished your breakfast and settled on the couch in the living room.

Saturdays were usually your rest days; days when you enjoyed just lounging around the house and watching movies all day.

And, after enduring the hours of harassment you got from Atsumu during breakfast, you gave in and let him join you for the day.

You scroll through Netflix, looking for a movie to put on so you guys could watch together. Atsumu was sitting right beside you on the couch, scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking over at your laptop to let you know whether he was interested in a movie you pointed out or not.

“So, you never actually answered me yesterday when I asked you what exactly happened,” you break the silence as you continue scrolling.

“Hmm?” he asks, sounding distracted.

You look at him, “Why did you crash here yesterday?”

He looks up from his phone, and you see realization set in when he finally processes your question.

He looks back at his phone, “Sora and I had another fight yesterday,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Oh...” you say and look back at your laptop, “What happened this time?”

“I don’t know, she was going on about some stupid shit again, and then she broke up with me”

“This is like the 50th time you break up since you first started dating last year, isn't it?” you tease him.

“Shut up,” you hear him say as he lightly smacks the back of your head and chuckles.

“What?” you laugh as you look back at him, “It’s true”

You hear him mumble a faint “whatever” as he looks back at his phone.

“Why did you come here then?” you ask

“We had the fight at my place, it was too awkward to stay”

“Right...”

A few moments pass before you speak up again.

“I'm actually curious, you know,” you lean back on the couch facing him, “why do you guys even bother getting back together if you're just going to fight again and break up?”

He looks up at you and you feel him stare into your eyes seriously for a minute, before a smug smirk plays at his lips, “What? Want me all for yourself, sweetheart?”

“Ugh, I'm serious!” you say as you lightly smack his chest and he pretends to fake wince.

“Hmm...” he says, looking down, a serious look on his face again.

You feel him contemplating and thinking hard about something and you start to feel worried.

You always found it hard to see Atsumu take something seriously. You knew he obviously took certain things seriously, like school and work. But when he’s with you, he’s always shown you his fun side. He would almost always end up being the one to cheer you up when you're down, or try his best to make you smile or laugh when he notices you were sad about something; always teasing you whenever he had the chance to; always keeping everything lively.

Though you appreciated that about him, you always wanted to do the same for him as well. Try to cheer him up when he’s down or just be there to listen to his problems. But somehow, you felt like he would purposely try to hide that part of himself away from you. And it only worsened when he started dating Sora last year.

You didn’t know why. You brought it up to him a couple of times before but he would always shrug it off, telling you it’s nothing.

So, in the very, very rare occasions you see that side of him, you can’t help but worry. Because you think that it’s serious enough for him to not even be able to hide it from you.

“Hey,” you softly whisper as you try smooth out the crinkles on his forehead.

‘Don’t overthink things on your own...’

He turns to you looking startled for a moment, then looks away.

You sigh and move your hand back down.

“Want me to take you to your favorite ice-cream truck tonight?” you ask him softly.

A moment passes but you don’t get a reply.

“On me...?” you add, knowing full well he wouldn’t have refused the offer anyways, he was just being stubborn.

You notice him slightly hesitate before he nods his head.

You giggle, “You’re a big baby, huh?”

“Just play a stupid movie” you hear him mumble as he pouts and you can't help but giggle again.

‘I guess this is better than nothing...’

-~-~-

You get to your favorite ice-cream truck spot and order your favorite ice-cream cone flavor. You figure you might as well enjoy it as you wait for Atsumu to get there.

Half-way through the movie you started earlier that day, Atsumu got an urgent call from his part-time job asking him to fill in for a sick colleague. So instead of going to the ice-cream truck together, you decided to meet there after his shift ended.

It was almost the beginning of winter, and it was starting to get cold, so it was definitely not the best time to grab ice-cream. But somehow, you always noticed it would bring Atsumu comfort when he was feeling down, and was too stubborn to share his discomforts with you. So, it became a bit of routine you guys would have. Whenever he would feel down, you’d buy him an ice-cream cone from this very truck, and for some reason, it would help him open up little by little.

You check your phone.

8:25 P.M

‘Five more minutes until his shift ends’ you think to yourself as you take another bite of your ice-cream.

You decide to just scroll through your social media feed as you wait for Atsumu. His part-time job wasn’t too far from where the truck was located, so it wouldn’t be much long until he gets there.

8:29 P.M

“Well, well, well,” you suddenly hear someone say as they get closer.

You look up from your phone.

“Don’t you just look sad, sitting there all alone” the girl continues with a mean smile on her face, and the girl next to her just giggles.

“Oh,” you say, unamused, when you finally recognize who they were, “It’s ditz number 1 and ditz number 2”

“Not funny,” the girl replies quickly with the same mean smile still plastered on her face, “listen, Sora told us what happened, and we know it won’t be much long until they get back together, so just back off” the first girl continues and the second just nods.

“Huh?” you laugh, “she’s the one who broke up with him, besides, what does that even have to do with me?”

The first girl scoffs, “because it’s always your fault”

She shoots you a glare and before you could even reply you hear someone call you as they rush over to your side.

“Sweetheart, sorry I was late, I ran here as fast as I could!” Atsumu tells you, catching his breath, before he realizes who you were standing with.

“Wow... sweethearts already, huh?” the first girl says, sounding fake excited as she looks at the second girl, “Sora’s gonna love this” she continues and they both giggle annoyingly.

You suddenly feel Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, and you look at it confused.

“Yeah, we're dating,” you hear him say.

All of your heads snap to him, you looking the most confused, “so just tell Sora to stop contacting me” he says sternly.

‘How bad was the fight between them?’ you find yourself question as you see that serious look on his face the second time that day.

Both the girls scoff at his statement.

“Oh, really?” the first girl asks, that same mean smile back on her face again.

“Yeah really,” you chime in this time, giving her the same mean smile she’s been giving you the whole time.

At this point you’ve really just had it with their attitudes, and if that’s how Atsumu wanted to deal with the situation, you decided to just roll with it.

“So, both you and Sora should just fuck off,” you continue and look at Atsumu who had a bemused look on his face, “Now come on, babe, let's go back home” you smile at him.

It takes him a moment before his expression changes, a soft smile replacing his bemused look.

“Let’s,” he says as he pulls you even closer.

You intertwine the fingers of your free hand with his that was around your shoulder, “Bye now” you wave to the two girls, leaving them with a shocked expression on their face, as you and Atsumu start walking away.

You both feel yourself holding back your laughter, and wait until you're out of the line of sight of the two girls.

As soon as you round the corner, however, you both start laughing hysterically.

“Did you see their faces?” you both ask each other at the same time, before laughing even harder.

A couple of minutes pass as you both try to calm yourselves down, then both instinctively go back to the position you left the startled girls in. His arm around your shoulder and your hands intertwined with each other.

You start walking.

It takes you a minute before you realize, “Hey, they can’t see us anymore” you tell him, though you didn’t necessarily want to let go.

“But it’s comfortable,” he says and you look up at him and notice a soft smile on his face.

‘Damn... even he can make a face like that, huh?’ you feel your face flush slightly.

‘Wait, no’

He feels you looking up at him and looks at you, “What?”

“You’re ugly, you know that, right?” you answer as you look away, not wanting to admit your thoughts.

He starts chuckling, “You were thinking I look really handsome right now, weren’t you?”

“As if...” you pout and he chuckles again.

You feel him gently knock his head against yours, “Thank you,” he whispers quietly, “for having my back, back there”

You smile.

‘Stop being cute...’

‘No wait, I didn’t just think that’

“You would’ve done the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Right...” you hear him whisper as his grip on your hand tightens.

‘Why is my heart beating fast right now? This isn’t the first time we’ve been this close...’

“Oh, by the way,” you look up at him apologetically as soon as you notice.

“What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly, when he notices the look on your face.

You point at the almost melted ice-cream cone you're holding with your other hand. Thankfully it was cold enough outside for it to not have fully melted, however.

“We didn’t get your ice-cream" you look back at him, pouting.

He just chuckles, “You scared me, you idiot” he says as he grabs the hand with your ice-cream and takes a bite.

“Hey, that’s mine!” you exclaim but don’t stop him.

“You at least owe me this”

“Whatever” you mumble, and he chuckles, letting go of your hand.

“Enjoy it for me then”

-~-~-

You both continue walking, silently enjoying each other’s company, letting him have a bit of your ice-cream every now and then, before it was completely consumed by the both of you.

You then notice you were next to his apartment building.

“Hey, what're we doing here?” you ask him.

“Oh, I wanted to grab a few things from my place, I was thinking of crashing at yours again tonight,” he says and looks at you, “would that be okay?”

“Why do you even ask when you already made up your mind?”

He chuckles, “Is that a yes?”

‘How could I even say no?’

You curse that thought,

‘What’s wrong with me today?’

You sigh, “I guess it’s fine”, you say pretending to be annoyed.

He chuckles again.

A few minutes later, you get to the front of his apartment door.

You watch as he struggles to put the keys in the door.

“You know you could just let go of my hand, that way you could actually get the keys in,” you laugh, trying to let go of his hand.

He just holds it tighter, “No, it’s fine, I can do it” he says and you just shake your head at him.

However, a few moments pass and you both start chuckling at his constant failed attempts to get the keys in the lock.

“I’m telling you then,” you try to say between laughs, “just let g-”

“Wow,” a voice behind you interrupts you from finishing your sentence, however.

You both turn around and find Sora standing with her arms crossed, “They told me I had to see it to believe it, but here it is” she says as she points at the both you.

You feel Atsumu stiffen next to you and you both start to let go.

You look up at Atsumu and see him just staring at Sora blankly.

‘What’s wrong with you? Say something’

You take the initiative instead to voice what you were both probably thinking, “What’re you doing here, Sora?”

She just ignores you, however, and directs her words to Atsumu, “You finally did it, huh? I guess I should say congratulations”

You look back at Atsumu, confused, but he still keeps quiet.

“I kept wondering why all those months of us being together kept feeling so lonely; you’d just keep checking your phone constantly, as if waiting for someone else’s texts, or calls. If I wasn’t officially called your girlfriend, I'd think I was the side bitch instead” Sora continues.

“What’s going on?” you whisper to Atsumu but he still stays quiet, his head hanging down.

“And you know what, I knew it, all along. I kept bringing it up to you, and asking you about it but you would just shrug it off, and tell me I'm just being overdramatic. You were literally stringing me along so you can have someone give you the love and attention you actually craved from someone else” Sora continues, still ignoring you.

“So, I was right all along, wasn’t I?” she asks, scarily calm.

Silence.

“I WAS, WASNT I?” She yells at Atsumu.

You feel the need to step in again, “Sora, I think you should calm-”

“I’m sorry...” you suddenly hear Atsumu quietly say, still looking down.

‘I can't watch this...’ you think as you look away, feeling hurt, for Atsumu.

You weren’t very sure what was going on, but seeing Atsumu look so weak made your heart ache.

Sora starts laughing.

Atsumu finally looks up at Sora, “I’m sorry” he says louder this time.

“Fuck you,” Sora replies to him and she finally turns her attention to you, “both of you deserve each other” she says as she turns around on her heel and starts walking away.

You both watch her as she disappears around the corner.

You hesitantly turn your attention back to Atsumu.

“Hey,” you softly whisper but he wouldn’t even look at you.

You slowly grab his keys instead and open the door to his apartment.

“Let’s go in first,” you say as you gently grab his arm, leading him inside his apartment and closing the door.

You stand there silently for a few minutes before you hesitantly try to speak, “Tsumu, wha-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts you, “I’m sorry you had to be there for that”

“Hey, it’s fine, why’re you even apologizing? I mean it was Sora who crossed the line, who does she think she is to just-”

“It’s not her fault” he says, interrupting you again, sounding a bit angry.

“What’re you even talking about? She was the one who-”

“I told you it’s not her fault!” he suddenly yells, the first time you ever see him act this way, “It’s mine, and she was right...” he sighs, frustrated, as he turns his back away from you.

“Tsumu, what happened?” you ask him, pulling his arm to try and make him face you.

He shrugs your hand off, “You wouldn’t understand,” he says, sounding agitated.

But that makes YOU angry instead.

‘It’s always like this...’

He’s always like this, when he shuts down and pushes you out before even trying to explain the situation to you.

“THEN MAKE ME UNDERSTAND, GODDAMMIT!” this time, it's you who yells.

You grab his arm once again and turn him to face you.

“You really want to understand?” He asks getting increasingly frustrated for some reason.

You were slightly scared of seeing this side of him for the first time, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

You lock your eyes on his gaze, as if to challenge him.

‘I’m not going to lose this time...’

When he notices your eyes not wavering, he takes a step towards you, then another.

You still have your eyes locked on his but you can’t help but take a few steps back until you bump into the wall behind you.

He doesn’t stop, and slams his fists against either side of the wall.

You feel you heart start to race.

‘What is he thinking?’ you wonder, but you still don’t waver from his gaze.

He takes another step and closes the little space left between the two of you.

You feel your heart racing even faster.

‘Why...?’

He starts leaning in closer, eyes still locked on yours and you unintentionally hold your breath.

‘Is... Is he going to kiss me?’

He closes his eyes as he inches even closer, until there are only a few millimeters left between your lips, but then he just sighs, sounding defeated, and drops his head down, his arms relaxing around you.

You suddenly let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and feel light-headed when you notice how fast your heart was beating at that point.

‘Wha-’

“I'm so fucking in love with you,” You hear Atsumu quietly whisper, loud enough for you to hear.

It takes you a few moments for you to even register what he said.

You think he might’ve said it as a joke, so you wait, but he doesn’t laugh or show you any sign of it as being a joke.

He looks back up at you and notices the confused look on your face.

You notice his hands roll into fists before he lowers them down, releasing you from his grip.

You momentarily see a hurt look in his eyes before he looks back down defeated.

“I expected that much,” he quietly says.

‘Wait... I...’

“Tsumu-”

“It’s getting late, you should leave,” he says as he turns around and starts walking away “or you can stay on the couch if you want”

“Wait-!” You sigh as he closes the door behind him.

You reach for the apartment door and open it,

‘He probably needs some space right now…’

But you couldn’t bring yourself to leave so you shut the door again and head for his couch.

You sit down and try to piece everything that happened together, and then everything clicks in your head.

Everything Sora said outside Atsumu's apartment and everything her ditzy friends said.

Their fights…. They were always because of you?

“I'm so fucking in love with you” You hear Atsumu’s voice echo in your head and your heart starts racing again.

He was in love with you? Why did it happen? How did it happen? WHEN did it even happen?

‘No, no, that’s not what's important here,’ you think to yourself ‘do you even like him back?’

Your heart starts racing again.

And you think back on all the times you’ve spent with each other.

Ever since growing up, you both spent all your time together, playing games, watching movies, going on adventures together. And that didn’t even change as you grew up. You still look forward to seeing him daily or just texting him or calling him. Even if your hangouts consist of just sitting around lazily, you both found comfort in just each other's presence.

He would get excited for your good news and feel bad for your bad news, and you were the same for him. And you know that he’s always been there for you when you needed him most. Always there to give you a shoulder to cry on. Even when there was nothing he could do at the moment to make you feel better, he would still stay with you until you could get back up on your feet to face the world again, together.

He's always been such a huge part of your life, a huge presence.

You don't even know if you could be as happy as you are with your life, if he wasn’t a part of it.

You slowly start to realize your feelings and you couldn’t help but start tearing up.

How could you not have noticed…

“Fuck, Tsumu…” you whisper to yourself, trying to hold back your tears.

‘I'm so fucking in love with you too…’

-~-~-

An hour passes before you know it, as you try to get yourself together and figure out what to do next.

You look back at his bedroom door from where you were sitting on his couch.

You didn’t hear anything from inside for a while, and he hasn’t left the room ever since his confession an hour earlier.

You sigh as you get off the couch and head to his bedroom door.

You hesitate when your hand reaches the door handle, but your worry for him overcomes the nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You open the door slowly and peek inside; he’s lying in bed.

‘Is he sleeping?’

“Tsumu?” you whisper quietly but he doesn’t move.

You open the door slowly, and walk quietly to the side of his bed, hoping not to wake him up.

‘He looks so tense...’ you sigh when you notice the look on his sleeping face, as if he were having a bad dream.

You sit on the floor and reach for his crinkled forehead, trying to smooth it out.

You feel him slightly relax at your touch and it makes you smile.

You think back to the time he touched your face, when you pretended to be asleep and automatically started to do the same thing. You started with you index finger on his forehead, slowly going down the bridge of his nose, then to his lips.

‘So tempting...’ you think to yourself as your finger hovers over his lips for a second.

You curse yourself in your head.

Your thoughts are interrupted when his eyes suddenly snap open, and you move your hand back quickly, hoping he didn’t notice.

His look changes from startled to confused, “I thought you left” he silently whispers.

You look at him confused, then you remember how you opened his apartment door to leave, but decided against it and went back inside.

“I couldn't leave you alone like this” you quietly reply.

You both look into each other's eyes for a few moments before you look away, finding it hard to keep eye contact.

“I just wanted to check up on you,” you say as you slowly try to get up, “sorry I came in your room withou-”

He suddenly holds your hand before you get the chance to walk away, “Stay,” you hear him quietly whisper to you.

You feel your heart start racing again.

‘Don't sound so desperate... you don’t know how that makes me feel...’

You turn around to look at him and meet his pleading eyes, “Stay with me for a bit...” he continues, almost begging you.

It takes you a few moments to try and calm your racing heart but you fail.

You just nod, and he lets go of your hand.

He then moves back on his bed to give you enough space, and raises his blanket, silently asking you to get in.

You hesitate for a second before complying; he then makes sure his blanket is covering your whole body.

You both lie there, on his bed, facing each other, neither of you saying a word.

You can't help but notice the way the moonlight hits his face at that angle, even though it was nighttime you could still see every outline of his face very clearly, and he looked so

‘Handsome...’

You feel your face slightly flush.

He slowly raises his hand and it hovers along the side of your face; you see him hesitate, close his eyes then put his hand back down, sighing defeatedly.

You gently put your hand on his, taking it and guiding it to the side of your face again.

His eyes snap open and stares into your eyes, a bemused look on his face.

You smile as you feel him trace the red on your cheeks, still looking confused.

“Am I dreaming right no-” he starts to say before you suddenly interrupt him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, startling him.

He looks at you even more confused, probably questioning if he heard you right.

“Kiss me,” you tell him, louder this time.

You don’t know where all of this boldness came from, but as you both laid there together, staring into each other’s eyes, you couldn't hold yourself any longer, and you wondered how he was able to, for however long he did.

You see his eyes fall to your lips, but he hesitates again, probably still unsure if he was hearing you correctly.

So, you decide to initiate it instead.

You close the space between the both you, as you close your eyes and lean in to kiss him.

You feel a sense of hesitation for a moment from Atsumu, as your lips land on his, then slowly feel him kiss you back.

Your heart start to race faster, feeling the warmth of his lips engulf you and you can’t help but pull back.

‘What was that...?’ you ask yourself.

Never have you ever felt that way when you kissed someone before.

You always thought people who claimed to feel fireworks, or butterflies in the pit of their stomach when they kissed someone, was just exaggerations they would make up.

I mean, you certainly never felt that with anyone you’ve kissed before...

Even though you were sure you liked them.

Until now...

‘I guess it’s true then, huh...’

“I love you,” you whisper quietly to him, accidently voicing your thoughts.

“What did you say?” he asks you, getting startled again.

“I love you too, Tsumu” you repeat, meeting his confused gaze.

You notice the slight twinkle in his eyes, before he grabs your wrist and pins you down on his bed. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to hold you down.

He stares into your eyes for a minute, “You can’t take it back...” he tells you, and you notice a small pout on his lips.

You chuckle softly, “I won’t”

You see a smile of relief appear on his lips before he crashes them against yours, once again. This time, he was more confident.

Your free hand cups the side of his face as he deepens the kiss, and you try to hold him even closer.

After a few minutes, he pulls away, his forehead leaning against yours, as you both try to catch your breath.

He smiles again and gazes into your eyes, both of you dazed from the passion you felt during the kiss, and you can see the red on his cheeks.

You never thought him giving you an expression like that would make you feel so happy.

You smile as your thumb traces over his cheek.

He sighs in frustration, lets you go, and falls back into his bed.

You look at him as he stares at the ceiling, “I really hope this isn’t a dream...” he says quietly, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

It makes you smile as you get closer to him and snuggle on his chest, closing your eyes, “I promise it isn’t”

You feel him wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head.

You look up at him and give him a quick peck on the lips before you go back to your snuggled position, “Go to sleep now, you already had a long day” you say as you lightly trace circles on his shirt.

You feel his arms tighten around you as he snuggles closer to you as well, “I'm warning you again, y/n, you can’t change your mind tomorrow”

You just chuckle, the warmth of his embrace sending you fast asleep, with a smile on your face.

(HQ Masterlist)

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aliendes · 4 years

Text

BTS reacts to saying something hurtful and then regretting it PT.2

Anon: Hi Angel🥺 i adore your writing and i was wondering if you were going to make a part 2 to the BTS reacts to saying something hurtful I looooove part 1🥺

Anon: Absolutely loved the most recent reaction !! DEFINITELY NEED A PART TWO

Anon: Could YOU PLEASEEEEE DO a part two for the bts reaction where they something hurtful😭😭😭 but fluffy ending if possible, I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING

Anon: Hi dude, I was wondering if you would do a pt.2 to BTS reacts to saying something hurtful and then regretting it, pls do it if you're still thinking bout it!

A/N: ok damn I didn't think you’d want a second part this badly lol but here it is! * I’m sorry this is so shit, this was supposed to be posted earlier today, but I worked from home today because someone at my work was diagnosed with COVID yesterday, which is scary. But then I’ve had a migraine all day, and fell asleep for SIX hours!? That never happens. So sorry it’s so late, not that you guys know that, but still and sorry it’s shit.

Warnings: angsssssst, fluff, mentions of sex, but no sex, cursing, mentions of cheating in the past, mentions of blood and stiches, a lot of these deal with another member being YN’s best friend, sorry it made things easier D: *unedited as per usual

Word count: 6.7k ~

In your rush to leave the apartment, you hadn’t realized you left your phone plugged in on your nightstand. Now it’s been over an hour you’ve been walking around the streets of Seoul, no way to call your sister, who would likely come pick you up. It’s not like it mattered, you didn’t really want to talk to anyone anyways. You just wanted to walk. It was your coping mechanism for a lot of things; anger, fear, sadness, anxiety. You were feeling a mixture of all of those things, and walking was a relief to you right now.

You continued walking for a little while longer, not realizing that your feet had taken you to your best friend’s apartment building. Letting out a heavy sigh, you figure you might as well crash here, you know Yoongi won't mind.

Entering the fancy looking building, you pass the guard sitting near the front entrance, showing him your ID, which you thankfully had with you. You knew you were always on the list of approved visitors, and he was shortly letting you up the elevator.

When you reached your best friend’s door, you held your hand up to knock, but before your fist could make contact with the wood, it was being swung open.

“YN! Oh my God!”

Your eyes widened in shock as you took a step backwards, not expecting to see him here. “Jin?”

Your tall boyfriend steps over the threshold of Yoongi’s apartment, lifting his arms to hug you, but thinks better of it and drops them to his side. You can see dried tear tracks on his face, red rimmed eyes, and a purple bitten lower lip, all signs that he’s been crying, hard.

“YN, I’m so sorry,” he sobs, letting fresh tears roll down his cheeks, “I-I was so worried, y-you-”

His mumbling is cut off by a firm hand on his shoulder, making his eyes fall shut as he lets the sobs rack his chest. “Come on, man,” Yoongi says stiffly behind him, “go wash yourself up.” Nodding his head, Jin turns around with one last sad glance in your direction, and disappears down the dimly lit hallway.

Yoongi watches him for a moment before turning to you, gesturing into his apartment with a nod of his head. You hesitate for a moment, briefly wondering if you should just leave, but decide your feet hurt and it’s too chilly to start walking again. Reluctantly, you follow your best friend into his living room and plop down on the couch. Following you shortly after, Yoongi falls next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“He told me what happened,” he says flatly, looking at you in the eyes, “he feels like shit.”

“Good,” was all you could say in response, crossing your arms over your chest. You were done being sad, now you were angry.

Yoongi sighs next to you, “YN, I know you’re upset. You have every right to be, trust me. But you love him, and he loves you. Right?”

You want to refute him, but he’s right. You both love each other more than anything, you know that. Nodding your head, your bottom lip juts out slightly and starts to wobble. Yoongi squeezes your shoulders at the sight, “I think the two of you should talk it out, hmm?” You nod again, not trusting your voice. “You guys can crash in the spare room, I’ll head out to the studio.”

“You don’t-”

“YN, it wasn’t an offer, it was a statement.”

Knowing how stubborn your best friend was, you shut up and nodded your head again, letting him stand up and grab his jacket.

“You know I love you both,” Yoongi said, hand on the doorknob, “but I will be upset if you fuck on my furniture.”

You scoff, head twisting back to glare at him, but he was already gone. Shaking your head, you let it fall back onto the plush sofa as you wait for your boyfriend to emerge from wherever he was.

It felt like hours later when you opened your sleepy eyes, realizing you’d fallen asleep on Yoongi’s living room couch. Blinking a few times, you turn, only to realize you’re laying sideways, and you’re in a warm embrace.

“Jin?” you mumble, sleepily, as you look behind you at your boyfriend’s sullen expression.

Closing his eyes and sighing through his nose, he lays his forehead against your shoulder. “I’m sorry, YN,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly, “I’m so sorry. You know I love you, right?”

Turning around in his loose grasp, you hear the squeak of the couch underneath you. Pressing one hand against Jin’s firm chest, you bring the other up to cup his wet cheek.

“Yes, Jin,” you mumble, making him open his eyes to stare into your own, “I do.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he cries softly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss on his nose, “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for running away.”

He shakes his head, pressing his plush lips to your forehead, “No, don’t apologize. I was just so fucking worried when I got to Yoongi’s and you weren’t here. I thought - I thought something happened to you, you always come here when you’re upset.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek, contemplating his words for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I just got lost in my thoughts,” you chuckle darkly, “but I’m okay, and I love you.”

Another tear rolls down Seokjin’s nose, “I’m so glad I have you in my life, YN. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lost you.” He sniffles, making you reach up and wipe at his tears.

“Then we’re lucky you’ll never have to find out.”

Jungkook and Yoongi are both jogging down the streets near the company building, trying to find where you went. Yoongi was about to have a full blown panic attack when he realized you had completely fled the building with no phone or bag. He was beside himself with grief, his mind turning to the worst case scenarios immediately.

After not finding you in the immediate vicinity of the building, he and Jungkook split up, Jungkook going to look at your best friend’s house, and Yoongi going to check your apartment. He brought your bag with him, which included your keys. He knew you wouldn’t be able to get into your home without them, and felt terrible that you might be wandering around the city, alone with no way to contact anyone.

Your bag and jacket in hand, Yoongi took the elevator up to your floor, hoping beyond all hope that he would find you somewhere around here. As he stepped off the elevator, his ears immediately perked up at the sound of light sniffles. Rushing out of the elevator doors, Yoongi stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you, sitting on the floor, back leaned against your apartment door, hugging your knees to your chest. Your forehead is resting on the tops of your bent knees, so you haven’t noticed him yet. He can tell you’re crying by the uneven breaths you take. His heart breaks, completely crumbles in his chest at the site of you attempting to curl in on yourself.

He instantly rushed forward, dropping your bag and jacket onto the ground next to you, and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out and as he places both of his hands on your shoulders, your head jerks up, startling at the sight of your crying boyfriend.

“Y-Yoongi?” your eyes are so swollen and your vision is so blurry, you think for a moment you might be seeing things.

“Yes, baby,” he whispers, “I’m here, I’m right here.” He watches as realization slowly takes hold of you, your face falling and twisting into a pained expression, almost like you’re disgusted he’s in front of you.

You sniffle loudly, turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see what a mess he’s made of you. “Please go away,” you murmur into the empty hallway. You don’t see it, but Yoongi’s face falls even more as he realizes you really don’t want him near you. You never shy away from his physical affection, even when you’re upset with him.

“YN, please,” he begs, hands sliding down your shoulders and your arms, eventually reaching your hands as he gently takes them in his, “let me take you inside, at least.”

Without looking at him, you nod, letting him help you stand with the grip he has on your hands. He lets go of one of your hands and bends over to grab your bag and jacket before getting your keys out and opening your door. You let him lead you inside and into your kitchen, you let him sit you down at your kitchen table, and you let him make you a cup of tea. You don’t take your eyes off a water ring stained to your wooden dining table the entire time, and it isn’t missed by Yoongi.

“I didn’t mean it,” Yoongi whispers as he sits down across from you, setting your favorite RJ mug on the table, “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said.” You slowly looked up at him, eyes still devoid of emotion. He winced at the fact that he did this to you. “YN, you have every right to hate me, to kick me out, to slap me if you want,” he takes a deep breath, “but you are not crazy. You are not like your mother. You are beautiful, funny, smart, and the most caring woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Being with you has made me a better person, and there is no one in the entire world more deserving than you of love. I’m an asshole, and I used your insecurities against you for a stupid fucking reason. I regret it more than anything, YN.” He was crying by the end of his speech, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. The left side of his lips were doing that twitchy thing they did when he was upset, and you instantly felt the need to embrace him.

Standing up slowly, you move towards your sulking boyfriend, and put your hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you, bewildered that you are even touching him. “I don’t forgive you,” you start, making Yoongi’s hope dissipate, “yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. What you did was fucked up, Yoongs.” You whisper the last part, eyes starting to well up again.

Yoongi pulls you down onto his lap, swinging your legs over his lap and hugging onto your middle tightly. “I know. Trust me, I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I promise you I will work every day to gain your trust back.” You lean your head on his shoulder, nodding your head. You weren’t about to forgive him after what he did, but you weren’t about to lose what the two of you had either.

“I love you,” he sniffles, kissing your forehead, “and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t get far before your feet started killing you in your work heels. You made it a couple blocks away before you couldn’t walk any further, and sat down on a park bench. To make matters worse, it had started sprinkling as you sat there. You didn’t have your phone, or a will to get up, so you sat there and sulked in the rain. You figured you would eventually get up and head back to your apartment and fall asleep, but for now you just needed to think.

Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you contemplated your relationship with Hoseok. He is usually so bright and bubbly, seeing him so angry scares you. On top of that, he called you dumb. You knew he would never harm you physically, but then again, you thought you knew he would never harm you emotionally either, yet he did exactly that today.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the light footsteps nearing your bench over the light drizzle of rain. Nor did you feel the presence of someone sitting next to you, just as drenched as you were.

Suddenly, you feel a warmth on your knee, making you startle violently, wiping at your face with your already wet long sleeve. It was no use, you were just making yourself more wet. You jumped so hard you caused the owner of the hand to pull away instantly.

“Hoseok?” you ask, blinking through tears, lips trembling due to the cold and your emotions. Looking up at him, you see he’s in no better condition. Eyes swollen and leaking, lip red and bitten, a habit of his when he’s anxious. He has the hand suspended in midair that was previously on your knee, and he looked almost like he was afraid to touch you.

“Baby,” he mutters, though you can barely hear him as the rain starts to pick up, “please come home, you’re going to get sick. I can stay at Jin’s place tonight if that makes you more comfortable.” He sounded completely broken to say those words, like if he spoke them it made it true that he made you uncomfortable.

At the thought, you furrow your brows. Did you feel uncomfortable with Hoseok? You didn’t think so. Disappointed? Sure. But not uncomfortable.

You shake your head lightly, reaching out to grab his hand in yours. He almost flinches away from your touch, so startled that you would initiate contact right now, but he composes himself and allows you to rest your hands in your lap.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you mutter, gnawing on your bottom lip, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that.”

Hoseok looks even more distraught at your words. “But that’s the thing, I’m a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have hurt you in any way, not just physically. It’s clear that I hurt you with my words, and I’m such a dipshit for doing so. I made a promise never to hurt you, and I broke that promise.”

He was right, he had promised that. Years ago when you first started dating, you had major trust issues because of your cheating ex. Hoseok had taken things slow with you and made sure that you trusted him fully before taking your relationship any further. You were thankful for him, thankful for how caring he was.

Tears were leaking from your eyes again, mixing with the rain water falling onto your face. “Let me take you home, please, YN?” He sounded so desperate, so small, like if you told him no it would break him.

Staring him in the eye, you nod your head. He lets out a relieved sigh as he stand ups, pulling you with him.

Once the two of you make it home, Hoseok leads you into the bathroom, both of you cold and shivering. Sitting you down on the side of the tub, he reaches over and turns the knob to turn on the hot water and then pours your honey bubble bath into the stream of water. The smell instantly relaxes you and you let your eyes slip closed as you sigh lightly. Before you could open your eyes, you hear the door to the bathroom opening again.

“Wait,” you rush out, snapping your eyes to Hoseok’s retreating frame. He stops, turning around to face you, lips blue from the cold. “Please,” you beg quietly, “stay.”

Hoseok looks conflicted. He looks like he wants to stay, so badly, but he also looks like he might make a run for it at any moment. “A-are you sure, YN? I can go to Jin’s for tonight, give you some space.”

“Do you love me?” The question surprises you as much as it surprises Hoseok. It slipped from your lips without your permission, giving away how you truly felt because of his words earlier.

“More than anything,” he answers instantly, dropping his hold on the door knob, “do you think I don’t?”

Hoseok takes a few steps towards your still shivering frame and reaches out to wipe tears from your cheekbones that you hadn’t even noticed were falling. “YN, I am so sorry if I ever made you feel like I don’t love you. I was angry earlier. I had a shit day and that is no excuse for the things I said to you, okay? Don’t let me make excuses for myself. But do not ever think that I don’t love you because of what I said.” His words were soft, yet firm. You could tell he meant everything he said. Sniffling, you nod your head in affirmation. When he stands straight again and goes to walk away, you grab his wrist quickly.

“P-please Hobi,” you whimper, “don’t leave me.”

“Oh Angel,” he says, sitting on the bathroom floor in front of you, “I would never leave you. I just thought you’d want some time to think.” He spoke so softly you could barely hear him over the running of the bathtub behind you.

You shake your head quickly, “I don’t want time to think. I want to talk about it, work it out. Together.”

He smiles sadly down at you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “I don’t deserve you, you know?”

You return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist. “I know,” you whisper into his chest, “take a bath with me?”

“Of course, love.”

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been back to your apartment. Since the incident at work, you’ve been consistently working from home, so you’ve been staying with your sister since you and Namjoon got into the fight.

He’s tried to contact you multiple times, sent you countless texts, and even tried to show up to your sister’s apartment about a week ago. You’ve completely ignored him, other than the one text you sent telling him you were safe and not to worry. You had packed all your essentials so you haven’t needed to go home yet, though you figure you will soon.

You were working on your laptop when you heard your phone buzz on the table next to you.

From: Jimin [2:37 pm]: hey YN

From: Jimin [2:37 pm]: can you come over?

You [2:39 pm]: to the dorms?

From: Jimin [2:41 pm]: yeah, we need to talk to you

You set your phone face down on the table. You felt like they were tricking you into seeing Namjoon. You just weren’t ready to face him yet. You knew you would eventually, you still love him with all your heart, but you really just needed time.

*Bzz*

From: Jimin [2:48 pm]: he won’t be here, I promise

From: Jimin [2:49 pm]: please

You sigh after reading his last message. You loved the boys, you truly did. You knew that they wanted to talk about Joon, but still, it was hard for you to say no to them. Especially Jimin, which is probably why they had him text you.

You [2:55 pm]: ok I’ll be there at 5

From: Jimin [2:56 pm]: thank you!!

When you arrived at the dorms, the door was unlocked. Knowing they were expecting you, you let yourself in, slipping your sneakers off at the door and making your way towards the sound of voices in the kitchen.

When you walked into the dining area, the three men sitting at the table all turned to look at you. You were met with Jin, Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jimin.

“Uh,” you started dumbly, “what’s up guys?” You held onto the strap of your bag a little tighter, unsure of what was to come.

“Hey YN,” Jin said, getting up and walking towards you, pulling you into a tight hug, “we’ve missed you.”

You had to bite your lip to start tears from springing to your eyes. Jin was the most sincere person you’ve ever met, and you knew he meant it when he said it. It hurt you worse than you thought it would, seeing them. You missed them, too. Though you missed Joon more.

“Come sit down,” Jimin said softly from the table, “we’ll be quick. Promise.”

“Is Joon here?” Your voice cracked slightly, making Yoongi raise an eyebrow as you sat down across from him.

“He’s with Hobi-hyung and Tae-hyung in the studio,” Jungkook says from next to Yoongi.

You nod your head and set your back at your feet, folding your hands in your lap. Jin takes a seat next to you, with Jimin at the head of the table. “What did you want to talk about?”

All four men shared a look before Yoongi spoke up, “Namjoon isn’t doing okay, YN.”

Your head snapped up at this, worry filling your eyes. Jungkook was quick to speak up, “He’s not hurt, YN. Don’t worry. We’re just really worried about him.” He was gnawing on his lip and it made you nervous.

“He hasn’t been eating properly,” Jin whispers from next to you, “or sleeping.”

“He’s been staying at the studio sometimes all night,” Jimin says, “and he’s been staying here.”

This shocked you more than anything else they’ve told you. The reason you and Joon got an apartment is because he wanted his own space. He loved his members, but he liked time to be alone. He hasn’t lived with them in years.

“He says the apartment smells like you,” Yoongi says, dark eyes staring into yours, “YN, he’s hurting. Bad. What he did was fucked up, but don’t you think he deserves a chance to make it right?”

“Yoongi,” Jin cautions from next to you.

“No, Jin-hyung,” Yoongi cuts in, “I know he hurt you, YN, but he regrets it so much. I’ve never, in all my years knowing him, seen him this affected by something. I’m begging you, please talk to him.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, tears threatening to fall. Jimin gets up and walks around the table to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders as you look at the other three men in front of you. Nodding, you let a single tear fall into your lap. “Okay.”

You decided to wait in Namjoon’s dorm room for him to get home, while Yoongi made up an excuse for why they needed them. When you heard the front door open and the baritone of Taehyung’s voice carry throughout the house, you braced yourself to see Namjoon for the first time in weeks.

The minute he walked through the door and saw you, tears were rolling down your face. Neither of you said a word as you ran to each other and crashed into the other’s arms. You didn’t realize how much you missed the sobbing man in your arms until you were both on the floor in a heap of bodies, crying into the other’s shoulder.

“YN,” he sobbed, “ar-are you actually here?” The sound of disbelief in his voice broke your heart. You could feel he’s lost a bit of weight, and he looked absolutely exhausted when he walked through the door, but the brokenness in his voice is what hurt the most.

“Oh Joon,” you pulled back from him to look into his tired eyes, “of course I’m here. I never left, not like that.”

He was biting at his lips, tears falling down his face and onto your laps as he nodded. “YN, I’m so sorry,” he says, bringing his hands from around your back and holding both of yours in his own, “I can’t believe I said such mean things to you, and over something so stupid.”

You gently shush him as you rub your thumb against the top of his hand. “It’s okay Joon,” you soothe, “we were both being stupid. You were right, I shouldn’t nag you just because I’m home more often now.”

“Please don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers, “I promise to do better and to make you happy.”

“Me too, Joon, me too.” You stare into each other’s eyes, a silent promise, before your lips are crashing onto his in a passionate kiss.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to find you sitting in your car in the parking lot. You locked yourself in there when you decided you were in no shape to drive, crying into your steering wheel at the events that just took place.

Hoseok had coaxed you out of the car after a few minutes and now the two of you were sitting in his recording studio, while he told you about how Jimin had been lectured by their dance teacher, one of the things that gets his self esteem at its lowest points. After the lecture, the members were practicing one of their old choreos that they would be performing at an awards show, only to have Jimin fall multiple times while doing some of the more difficult moves. He was feeling like he wasn’t as good as he used to be, and it had him feeling insecure. Right before you walked into the practice room, him and Hoseok were trying to smooth some kinks out in the routine and he was too frustrated to get them right.

You knew Jimin well, and you knew he was probably feeling terrible about himself, and now probably even worse because of what just happened with you.

“I’m sorry Hobi,” you said, sniffling softly, “I should have listened to you.”

“No, bub,” he says reaching over and grabbing your hands, “you just wanted to make sure he was okay. None of this is your fault, okay?” You nod your head and let Hoseok’s words sooth you. You’ve been best friends since high school, he always knew how to calm you down. “I’ll go make sure Jimin is calm and I’ll have him come in here. You can have some privacy. You’re both pretty sensitive right now.”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to not cry if you spoke. Hoseok takes one last look at you before standing up and going to find Jimin.

You sit on the comfortable leather couch, collecting your thoughts, for what feels like forever, until you hear the code being input on Hoseok’s door. A moment later, you see the soft pink hair of your boyfriend poke around the corner. When he turns to look at you, he’s wearing an almost unreadable expression. You can tell he’s been crying, his eyes are a little red and his cheeks are a bit puffy, but otherwise he looks calm.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks in a small voice.

You nod your head, mirroring his unsure expression. “Of course, Jimin,” you whisper, scooting over slightly to make more room on the couch.

You both sit there staring at the other for a moment, before Jimin speaks, “Can I -”, he starts, before cutting himself off, snapping his lips shut as you raise your eyebrows. He takes a moment to configure his thoughts before he tries again. “I’m sorry, YN,” he mutters, hurt clear in his voice, “can I please touch you?”

Your heart broke at the fact that he felt the need to ask you. His hands were folded politely in his lap, making no effort to reach for you, like you didn’t want him close. Without saying anything, you stand up from your spot on the couch, and plop back down on his lap, shocking him, his hands flying to grasp your waist to steady you. You wrap your arms around his neck in response, placing a soft kiss on his head. He instantly relaxes into you, his hands kneading your sides, head resting on your shoulder as he lets out a deep sigh. You stay like that for a moment until you hear light sniffles and you realize your boyfriend is crying.

Scooting down a bit, you bring your hand around and cup his cheek, “Jimin-ie,” you whisper.

When he looks up at you he looks so defeated and you decide then and there that you hate that look. If it were up to you, he’d never feel this way ever again. “You’re perfect to me, Jimin,” you whisper, making him scoff, trying to turn his head away from you. You don’t let him, though. “I’m serious. You may not think so, but you are so talented, sweet, and funny. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known and I’m so lucky that you love me.”

He scoffs again, “How can you say that after what I just said to you?”

“Because I love you,” you say simply without hesitation. “I know that you were feeling insecure and anxious. I understand that you need love and acceptance when you feel like that.”

Jimin’s eyes soften at your words, another tear rolling down his cheek. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You chuckle lightly, rubbing your thumb against his cheek, “You were so perfectly you, I couldn’t help but fall in love.”

“I love you, YN,” he sobs into your shoulder, “and I’m so sorry.”

“I know, Jimin-ie,” you stroke his hair, “let’s go home, yeah?” He nods into your shoulder as you place a kiss to his forehead.

Taehyung has posted himself up outside the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out. He wasn’t going to let this fight last. He wasn’t going to let you think he thought you were anything less than perfect. He couldn’t lose you because of his stupid and reckless mouth.

It’s been an hour since you locked yourself in there. He could hear you run yourself a bath, sit in there for a while, and then heard the tub draining. He hoped you’d be coming out soon, so he leaned his back against the door, resigning himself to sitting there all night if he had to.

Another 10 minutes go by before you slowly open the door, making Taehyung fall backwards as he reaches out to right himself. You gasp in shock, not realizing he was right there. When he falls through the doorway, you get down on your knees, towel wrapped tightly around your body as you make sure he’s okay. “Tae! Are you okay?”

Taehyung sighs as he lays flat on his back in the doorway of the bathroom. “Why are you asking me that? I should be the one asking you.”

Your face falls again at the reminder that he thought you were too caring, too happy, too positive. You spent the entirety of your bath talking yourself into not being so upbeat and chipper around him. To not be so caring and to back off him a little bit. That’s what he wanted, right? He could see the gears turning in your head, so he sits up, leaning back on the palms of his hands.

“YN, I love you,” he says softly, making you look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I know, Tae,” you say flatly. You didn’t think just because of a silly argument that he didn’t love you. You weren’t that insecure. You just truly didn’t want him to feel suffocated, and obviously that’s how he’s been feeling if he felt the need to blow up like that.

“No, YN. You’re too understanding,” he mentally slaps himself, “no, no. That’s not what I meant. Fuck.”

“I get it Tae, I’m suffocating you. I’m sorry, I will try to back off a little bit. I can do better.” You sit back on the heels of your feet and lean against the door frame, staring into his dark orbs.

“Oh, princess,” he whispers, sitting up straighter and reaching a hand out to rest on your thigh, “no you aren’t suffocating me. Not at all. I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way.” The look on his face is so sullen, so remorseful that you can feel just how sorry he is from looking into his eyes. “You are the sunshine that lights up my day, the only person who really gets me. You are the sweetest, kindest, most caring human being on the face of this planet, and I’ve never met someone as empathetic as you are. You are literally perfect, and I am so fucking sorry,” his voice cracks a bit as a tear rolls down your cheek at his words, “that I made you think you weren’t. I’m the shittiest partner ever for doing so, and I will spend the rest of my life making you feel wanted and as special as you deserve to feel.”

You’re full blown crying now when you lunge yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck. Sobbing into his shoulder, you nod your head against him. “I love you Tae,” you whimper, “it’s just a silly fight, right?”

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you bare back, still slightly sticky from your bath, “No it’s more than that.” He feels you stiffen in his hold, so he starts to soothingly rub his large hand up and down your spine, “This is me realizing how fucking perfect I have it and making sure I never do anything to fuck this up. Never do anything to dim your light, because you are the brightest star in my eyes.”

You pull back to slap a hand lightly against his chest, smiling down at him still sitting on the floor. “Stop being so cheesy,” you mumble. He smiles at you before abruptly standing and picking you up bridal style, making you squeal. “Tae!”

“Mmm,” he moans into your ear as he tosses you on the bed and climbs on top of you, “let me show you what I mean, hmm?”

Jungkook didn’t waste any time running out your apartment door and chasing after you. He had only been gone for a minute or two, there’s no way you could have gotten far. As he walks down the street near your apartment, he calls your phone at least a dozen times, all of them going straight to voicemail. Your phone must be dead.

“Fuck,” shoving his phone back in his pocket. When he looks back up at the sidewalk ahead of him, he realizes he’s near your favorite cafe, the one with the cute Japanese trinkets for decor. Deciding to check to see if you’re there, he makes his way down the street. When he arrives at the cafe, he looks in the large glass window at the customers sitting around the restaurant, but doesn’t see you anywhere. Heaving a sigh, he turns around trying to rack his brain for other places you might’ve gone, when he sees a familiar figure sitting across the street at a bus stop. Squinting his eyes, he sees your sulking form, curled in on yourself.

Without thinking, he rushes to cross the street, only remembering at the last second to look both ways and halting his movements when he hears a car horn honking at him. Clutching at his chest, he backs up and allows the cars to pass before he’s running across the street towards you.

When he looks back to you, you’re already standing, a bewildered look on your face.

“Jungkook, are you crazy!?” you yell as he steps up on the curb in front of you.

“YN-” he pants, trying to catch his breath. His adrenaline was pumping now, but he was also relieved to find you okay. “YN, I -”

“Jungkook!” you cut him off, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

It takes him a moment to realize what you’re talking about, but once he catches on a blush overtakes his face and he has the decency to look sheepish. You were actually a little angry at him for being so careless, but then you think back to the argument the two of you just had, and your anger dissipates into sadness again. Jungkook sees the moment your face falls and reaches out to take your hand in his. When you wince and jerk your hand back, he feels another pang of regret in his chest, realizing you actually were hurt and he let you run out of the apartment without helping you at all. He was such a shit boyfriend.

Jungkook huffs a breath through his nose as he reaches out carefully, palm up, silently asking for your hand. You oblige reluctantly, knowing he’s trying to help, and place your hand, palm up in his hand.

“YN, I am so sorry,” he starts, moving closer to you to get a better look at your still bleeding finger,”I’m mad at something Namjoon-hyung and I fought about earlier, and my dumbass took it all out on you. I’m a fucking asshole.” He pulls your hand closer to his face as he talks, inspecting the cut. He saw it earlier, but it only looked like a papercut then. Now that it had bled a little more, he could see it was fairly deep, maybe even deep enough to need a stitch or two. Sighing, he closes his eyes to collect himself before he speaks his next words. “Why are you at the bus stop?” He knows the answer, and braces himself for the impact.

“I- I figured I should probably go to the hospital,” you nibble on your bottom lip, unsure why you felt bad for saying what you had to say, “I didn’t think you’d want to drive me.”

His heart breaks. He moves closer to you, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on top of your head. “Oh, YN,” he whispers, remorse dripping in his tone, “I can’t believe I did that. I will always, always be here to help you. I don’t want you to ever feel like I wouldn’t.” He can feel tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he runs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“I just thought since, you know…” you trail off, letting more tears fall down your face.

“I know, I was an asshole,” he starts, pulling away to look down at you, “let me take you to get that looked at, and we can talk about it on the way, okay? I’m so sorry, YN. I don’t want you to forgive me yet, I don’t deserve it. Just let me make sure you’re okay, first.”

You look up at him, unshed tears welling in his eyes when you nod your head. “Okay,” you whisper, letting him take your uninjured hand in his and walk the couple blocks back towards your apartment. You knew what he did was wrong, but you also knew that he loved you. You loved him, too. Regardless of the fights you may have, and the tough times you experience, you know you will always fight for one another. You look up at him through misty eyes while you walk, he looks back at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A silent exchange letting each other know it would be okay.

#bts angst #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook angst #taehyung smut #yoongi x reader #cypherwritersnet

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subwonwooagenda · 4 years

Text

Candy’s Regulars | 1

MASTERLIST

Teaser

Pairings: Camgirl!Reader X SVT

Constant Warnings: Group masturbations (sometimes), smut, use of toys, kink usage, language

Chapter Notes: This is the first official chapter of this series. I hope you’ll enjoy it and please don’t hesitate to leave feedback, good or not. Thank you for reading! The story will be in POV’s but it’ll be in third person limited (search it up), there will be no smut in this chapter, its more about you getting to know your lovely regulars more ;) That just means the next chapter will be filled to the brim with smut, also, Cheol has a hamster, enjoy that XD

Chapter Warnings: language

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

Jeonghan’s POV

Jeonghan was in awe. He didn’t know what to do or how to act with the message invite that seemed to be mocking the scream he gave as he slammed his computer shut two minutes ago.

“Okay, Han. You can do this. It’s not that big a deal. Your favorite cammer sends you an invite to be in a group chat. Happens all the time.” He tried to hype himself, his shaking hand hovering the mouse over the accept button as he screams internally.

He gave a final sigh, pressing the right mouse button before squeezing his eyes shut. After a minute of having his eyes closed, he peeped one open, seeing the active chat that he was now a part of.

candy_princess: Oh good, Hanni is here!

He winced as he heard his audible whimper. God, he could only imagine what his name would sound like coming out of your mouth.

thetigerkingKS: Ayye, welcome to the VIP’s dude

SuperiorMaknaeDino: Holy fuck that just hit me- We’re Candy’s VIP’s bro

DroopyEyedJun: We the superior ones-

Jeonghan gave a small laugh as he read the chat, the men that were with him certainly were funny.

PrettyHanni: Ahh, i would have joined sooner but i was having an internal crisis, i guess you can call it.

S_Cheol: So basically, you were fanboying?

GentleHong: Dude, who wouldn’t fanboy over Candy?

DivaBoo: EXPOSED

HappyVirusMinnie: OOF

With a shake of his head, Jeonghan typed out a reply, figuring there was no sense in hiding his blatant fanboy moment.

PrettyHanni: Oh yeah? Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t freak the fuck out

skyscraperGYU: I know for sure i did

S_Cheol: oh im not, i literally threw my phone across my room and scared my hamster-

Jeonghan laughed loudly as he got himself comfortable on his bed, propping his laptop on his lap.

candy_princess: AWW you have a hamster?!

S_Cheol: haha, yea i do, he’s a little shit though

sweaterpaws_Wonwoo: Dude dont disrespect your hamster like that smh

S_Cheol: okay well when he decides to crawl into your hoodie sleeve and bite your armpit then you’ll realize-

As Jeonghan was reading (and laughing) the chat, he started thinking. He’s been watching your lives for a long time now, almost a year and a half, with the same thirteen men on a constant, yet he knew nothing about them. Then again, most people don’t try and make friendships of the basis ‘Hey, i jack off to this camgirl and i know you do too, wanna hang out?’ He gave a laugh at that thought, just imagining the scenario until he was brought back to reality by the chat.

SuperiorMaknaeDino: Hey, Candy? can i ask something

candy_princess: of course!

SuperiorMaknaeDino: I’m not complaining, but why did you make this group chat?

iconicboyhansol: I’ve been wondering that too

As Jeonghan read what he typed he tilted his head, getting lost in his thoughts once more. Why did you make the chat? What was so special about the thirteen of them that possessed you, who rarely did private streams and never did private chats to want to talk to them like this?

candy_princess: oh..well to be honest with you guys, it was mainly to say thank you for alway supporting my streams. Hell =, you guys definitely donate the most out of any of my viewers, you practically pay my rent, so i just wanted to get to know the men responsible for my happy living.

musicgodWoozi: im not crying, my goldfish stepped on my eye-

FashionistaHao: Imma be a man and admit, my eyes wet af rn

Jeonghan didn’t know how to stop his heart from pounding against his chest. He knew you were cute but this was an entire nother level of adorable and Jeonghan liked it way more than he should have.

candy_princess: Noooo, don’t cry please :<

S_Cheol: You tell us that adorable information and expect us not to be soft, Princess?

PrettyHanni: Honestly, you just became 10x more adorable to me-

He chuckled as he watched the other guys tease you for your adorable mini speech. It was strange, it almost felt normal how comfortable he felt talking with you and the others, like he belonged there with them.

iconicboyhansol: i needa google how to not fall in love with a woman ive never met-

candy_princess: awww guys >~< my blush is real right now- but seriously, you guys make my camming so much more fun than it used to be and i appreciate that~

musicgodWoozi: We appreciate you too, Princess, i don't know any other men that would drop everything at the notification that you are live

Jeonghan chuckled at what he said, never relating to a sentence more in his life.

candy_princess: which is why i wanted to offer something...

Jeonghan’s brow quirked in interest, sitting up a bit straighter as he read your message.

DroopyEyedJun: What do you mean, baby?

candy_princess: I wanted to ask if you all would be interested in doing a few private streams, one on one, and possibly filming with me, one on one, if youre up for it...

Jeonghan’s breath hitched in his throat, causing him to go into a coughing fit, almost dropping his laptop. He was speechless. One on one cam streams as well as filming with you..holy fuck he was getting lost in his imagination.

S_Cheol: Oh fuck..you actually mean it?

SuperiorMaknaeDino: Oh fuck please don’t be playing

candy_princess: Im dead serious, i swear, but only if you all want to.

Jeonghan didn’t hesitate as he typed out his answer.

PrettyHanni: Oh fuck yes, i am 100% down

S_Cheol: me too

iconicboyhansol: Id rather die than say no, so hell yea

DroopyEyedJun: Please yes-

sweaterpaws_Wonwoo: I think i speak for all of us, so they dont gotta type, that all of us are up for it, babe

candy_princess: Then how about i message you guys privately and we can set a time and schedule?

S_Cheol: works for us baby

candy_princess: Ill start tomorrow morning but its late and i need rest if im going to be giving special treatment tomorrow ;)

Jeonghan gave a deep sigh, heart practically failing from the thoughts of getting private cams from you as well as the opportunity of filming with you. He could feel himself getting excited just at the thought of it.

GentleHong: Alright, Princess, get some sleep okay, but first drink some water and get a shower before you get too sleepy.

candy_princess: yes sir ;)

GentleHong: fUck-

Jeonghan chuckled as he watched you say your goodbyes, his own tiredness starting to set into his body as a few of them said their own goodbyes, his included. He shut off his laptop and ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he thought about the night he just had. From getting off work to jacking off as you pleased yourself on camera, to being offered the chance to be with you one on one. He was in awe. He stopped wallowing in his thoughts and got out of bed, changing into some pajama’s before getting into bed, mind not entirely prepared for what the next days would bring.

#seventeen #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #joshua hong #wen junhui #kwan soonyoung #jeon wonwoo #lee jihoon #xu minghao #kim mingyu #lee dokyeom #boo seungkwan #hansol vernon chwe #lee chan #smut #fluff #seventeen smut #series #candy'sregularsseries

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marvels-agents100 · 4 years

Text

mnemosyne’s burden

the harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: cm typical violence, mentions and allusions to sex, mentions of scars and trauma

word count: 5,317 ( aka why i cant ever get anything done )

author’s note: me ? writing ? never thought id live to see it. also the ‘ego’ line ( you’ll know which one it is ) was picked from the brains of @davidrossi-ismydad and @good-heavens-chris-evans

“Have a good weekend,” JJ said softly, pulling her arms around you, “Lord knows you deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes, smile sitting on your lips, “We all do, now go and see your boys.”

She chuckled, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

With a small wave and a dazzling smile, she walked through the glass entrance of the BAU, her blonde locks swaying as she left. You watched her with a grin, her presence being the last bit of light in the darkened unit. Everyone had already found their way home, bones aching and eyes exhausted after the five day case on the west coast. Spencer had already been mumbling statistics about sleep deprivation on the jet ride home.

You glanced up to the office that perched by the top of the stairs, its yellow light illuminating the desolate bullpen. It was odd, how a naturally bright and joyful color could bring a heavy darkness into an already dark room. A sigh escaped you, originating in your chest, as you looked at the pensive profile of the one and only SSA Aaron Hotchner.

His eyebrows were pulled taught and low on his forehead, his left hand writing mercilessly on the sizable stack of manila folders before him. There were no pauses or hesitations in his work, just the incessant scratch of pen against paper.

Before you had even fully thought to, your knuckles were tapping on the wood of his office door, echoing slightly in the large room.

“Come in,” his voice was muffled and tired.

You entered the room silently, door clicking shut behind you. His eyes lifted briefly to acknowledge you, but quickly flickered back to the work before him. Now that you were closer, you could see the lines below his eyes. They were deep and purple, made worse with every letter he wrote. His shoulders slumped forward, heavy with the sorrow and guilt that followed every case.

“Do you plan on sleeping at all tonight?” You questioned, your slightly defiant tone earning another fleeting glance from him.

“You and I both know that you already know the answer to that question,” he said, voice monotonous. You huffed at his words, knowing he was right. Having known each other for many years- all the way back to law school- made you very aware of his sleeping habits.

“I might know the answer,” you sat on his leather couch, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He set the ballpoint down and gave you his full attention, one of his eyebrows tilted upwards. “Did you need something?” He asked, professionally. You had to resist rolling your eyes.

“Aaron, please go home,” you nearly begged.

“You know I can’t do that, yet.”

“The papers and files will still be here on Monday,” you reasoned, “you deserve to sleep in your own bed and see your son.”

“He’s at a summer camp for the weekend,” he said dismissively, resuming his writing.

Giving up on persuasion, you stood and crossed the room quickly, resorting to stealing the pen from between Aaron’s fingers. He looked up to you in disbelief, mouth parted slightly and eyebrows knotted in confusion.

“What are you-“

“You’re going to go home,” you interrupted, “and you’re going to pack a bag for the weekend.”

“I can’t-“

“You’re not going to think about work, and you and I are going to go up to Rossi’s cabin upstate,” you weren’t letting him get a single word in, “I was going to go by myself, but now you are obliged to take this small vacation with me.”

He shook his head slightly, “I have too much to do here.”

“And this building, and all of your work in it, will still be here in a few days,” you argued.

“I just don’t-“

“Aaron, please,” you lost the edge in your voice, looking at him with wide eyes.

He had to look away from you, pushing aside the part of him that went absolutely feral every time you said his name like that.

“We come back Sunday night,” he wagered, meeting your eyes.

“We can be home before dinner,” you tried to hide the hope that laced your words.

His eyes searched your face for a moment, his mind contemplating your offer (while admiring you), “Fine. I’ll go.”

You smiled widely, placing the pen back into his palm gently, “Seven o’clock tomorrow morning, I’ll come and get you.”

You turned, steps lighter in the wake of your triumph, as you walked to the door. As it closed behind you, the ghost of a smile tilted at his lips, his eyes still watching the spot you stood in only seconds before. His pulse was racing, mostly out of excitement but also out of fear. Hiding the way he felt about you had only become more difficult after he realized he wasn’t involved in a brief crush, but he was in love with you-

“If you want me, then take me,” you wagered, your voice venomous, “but leave that girl alone.”

The UNSUB snickered, his gun aimed pointedly at the temple of the teenage girl that was encircled in his arm. You stood with your own weapon raised, the rest of the team clearing the house attached to the basement you were in. You prayed that they would stay above ground, at least until you managed to move the girl into a safer area, away from her attacker.

“Drop the gun,” he spat out, and you followed his orders, lowering it to the floor softly.

“If you want me,” you repeated, “take me, let her go.”

The barrel of his pistol was suddenly pointed to you, his grip falling away from the young girl’s neck. She stumbled to the corner of the damp room, curling into herself. Your hands were held up in surrender as he hurried towards you, yanking you away from the stairs by the edge of your kevlar. He kicked at the inside of your knees, making you kneel in front of him.

“If I want you,” he chuckled darkly, the smooth metal of his gun tracing your jaw, “In what way, darling? Don’t worry, both ways end the same, but one is much more thrilling.”

He crouched to your eye level, and you resisted the urge to spit in his face. Instead, you kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any satisfaction of knowing the fear that coursed through your veins.

“I think it’s an important distinction to make, don’t you?” You could feel his breath hit your face as he talked, a sickening smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He stood again, a bullet clicking into place as he pointed the gun at your forehead.

“Unfortunately for you,” he sighed, “I’m feeling a little impatient.”

Just as your eyes shut and you accepted your fate, a single gunshot echoed through the basement, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. You let out a strangled breath, slightly shocked by the fact that you could, in fact, still breathe. Your hardened demeanor crumbled, your hands beginning to shake as they lowered slowly. Two warm palms on your shoulders made your eyes open, the worried face of Aaron Hotchner hovering over you.

His eyes were so incredibly soft, his hands so incredibly gentle; it made you question whether or not you were in heaven.

“You’re okay,” he reassured softly, his hands guiding you to your feet, before tugging you towards him. You collided with his chest, his arms circling you completely as his face dropped to your shoulder. He was breathing heavily, as if he was holding his breath moments before.

If the kevlar of his vest wasn’t acting as a barrier, he was sure you would have heard the way his heart hammered against his ribs. He held you tightly, needing to feel you breathe in order to believe it, in order to slow his pulse. When your arms eventually winded around his waist- the shock of your brush with death wearing away- he had to stop himself from breaking down completely.

In the mere moments he had heard the threats that were given to you and the click of a loaded gun, he felt a fear that hadn’t taken a hold of him since George Foyet roamed the earth. He didn’t think before pulling the trigger from the top of the basement stairs, he only acted upon his instinct- to protect you.

He cared about you- he knew that- but the pure dread that washed over him when he saw a bullet aiming for your skull… that was a feeling he had only had for one woman before you. The woman that he loved, even in the wake of her death.

And that’s when he knew; the small fluttering in his stomach and the acceleration of his pulse wasn’t because of a small, fleeting crush on you- he was in the process of falling completely.

***

You were, once again, knocking on Aaron’s door, a coffee in your hand for the undoubtedly sleepy man behind it. A few moments passed without any sound from inside the apartment, your ear coming to rest against the wood to find any sign of life. A second knock did little to bring about different results. When there was still no answer, you pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed his number.

It rang twice before he picked up.

“Hotchner,” he said, his voice thick with sleep, resembling a growl.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you cooed, your voice sickly sweet, “now, as much as I enjoy looking at your welcome mat, I would much rather be staring at the wonderful scenery of northern Virginia.”

He groaned in response, immediately hanging up the call. You giggled, hearing him shuffle around as he made his way to the door.

It swung open, revealing an overall disheveled Aaron Hotchner. His eyes squinted, still adjusting to the light, and his hair laid in an adorably messy state on top of his head. The gray of his shirt was wrinkled and the hems of his flannel pants brushed the hardwood floors, but he somehow still looked so damn good.

You held in your chuckle at the grimace on his lips, annoyance clear in his features.

“I don’t have a welcome mat,” he quipped, voice still crackling from his rest.

“Fabrication for the sake of comedy,” you explained, handing him his coffee and patting his chest lightly as you entered the apartment.

“I’m sorry I overslept,” he began, closing the door softly as a palm ran down his face.

“Don’t be,” you waved your hand at him, “just grab all of your things, I’ll drive the first half.”

The way you smiled at him made him question what he had done to deserve you.

“Sure thing, boss,” he joked, feet dragging as he walked towards his room. You chuckled at him, finding a spot on his couch as you waited.

He emerged no more than ten minutes later, pajamas traded for a pair of sweatpants and another plain shirt, messy hair slightly tamed, and a duffel slung over his shoulder. Without any hesitation, you let yourself look him over, drinking in how incredibly attractive he looked in everyday streetwear.

“You ready?” You asked, eyes snapping back to his face.

“More than ever,” he grinned, taking his keys from the table near the door. You stood, smoothing your palms against your thighs in an attempt to calm yourself down.

“Then let’s get moving, we’ve got a long car ride of early 2000’s pop ahead of us,” you teased, almost skipping through his door.

“I will launch myself out of a moving car,” he deadpanned, “you know I will.”

“Don’t give me any ideas, Hotchner.”

The smile he gave you definitely gave you many, many ideas.

***

Aaron’s undeniably distracting snores were the soundtrack of the drive to Rossi’s cabin. You had stopped to refuel when you were halfway through the trip, but the way he slept- his elbow against the door and his cheek scrunched against his fist- made the very thought of waking him awful and cruel. His legs were curled up in the seat, feet adorned in socks that had multicolored polka dots on them (one of the birthday presents you picked out with Jack the November before), and everything about him just seemed so relaxed- you wouldn’t dare wake him up.

So, you settled in for the second half of the trip, soft music pouring from the radio over the sounds of a sleeping Aaron Hotchner.

The forest began to get denser, the patches of green becoming a sea of foliage lining the road, which was notably unkempt and unused. It was all so beautiful, the way the trees shrouded the ground with fallen leaves, or how they stretched upwards to touch the sky. It was enough to tilt your lips in a content smile, the cabin owned by none other than David Rossi peeking through the branches.

Rolling to a stop in front of the wooden cabin, you pulled the keys from the ignition. Aaron slept soundly beside you- he must have gotten little to no sleep the night before. You reached out and tapped his shoulder lightly.

“Aaron,” you spoke softly. He stirred, but settled.

“Hey,” you shook him gently, “sleepy head, we’re here.”

“A little… longer,” he grumbled out, his words slurred and breathy, eyes never opening.

You leaned over the center console so you could whisper in his ear, “I will personally drag you out of this car, Hotchner, whether you are willing or not.”

He let out a long, annoyed sigh, his hand reaching to run down his face. When his eyes finally flickered open, he was met with you back in your own seat, wearing a smug grin. His gaze then flickered to the windows, taking in the cabin surrounded by nature.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, voice slightly graveled.

You shrugged, “I figured I would let you sleep, I was fine to drive.”

His head fell back onto the headrest of his seat, another sigh leaving him. With a worried expression, he looked back to you.

“You wouldn’t be able to drag me out of this car,” he said, and despite the plain and factual way his words came out, you knew he was teasing you.

“Is that a challenge?” Your eyebrow raised.

“Not a challenge,” he was visibly fighting the smile that threatened to reach his face, “just the truth.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re on.”

Without hesitation, you launched yourself over him, opening his door completely. His hands tried to keep yours from unbuckling his seatbelt, yours and his laughs filling the air. You let out a cry of triumph when a click sounded and the buckle retracted from around him, hitting the wall of the car with a metallic snap.

“I’m… winning!” you pushed against him, his dimples on full display as he lightly swatted your hands away.

“Not for long,” he giggled, fingers finding your sides (which he knew was a weak spot, and therefore was a cheap shot), and tickling you mercilessly. You let out a squeak, pushing away from him, your back landing against your door.

“That’s playing dirty,” you pointed a finger at him, smile still on your lips.

“Maybe,” he chuckled, “but I was right.”

“Eat my shorts,” you playfully rolled your eyes, moving to open your own door, “now let’s go, you can hibernate inside.”

“Oh, I plan on staying awake, now,” he called over the car, moving towards the trunk. He opened it while you stood beside him, waiting to grab your baggage, “I’ve already lost a whole car ride of annoying you; I have the rest of the day to make up for it.”

The shit-eating grin he sent you only left you a little breathless.

***

The night fell rather quickly, the tired sun dipping below the tree line with an eagerness you weren’t too sad to see. The stars, away from the city lights and fog, always looked so beautiful in the arms of the woods.

There was a small flame within the fire pit that was stationary on the land behind the cabin, by the edge of the woods. Head tilted back, your eyes roamed across the constellations, a satisfied smile on your face.

Aaron leaned in the back doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes held nothing but adoration, looking at the way you admired the sky. Everything you did, no matter what it was, was just so endearing to him. It was just a side effect of love, he knew. You could do something as simple as making him a cup of coffee, or making sure he ate at least twice a day, and his heart would be left racing for hours to come. Even then, as you marveled at the sky, eyes wide as if it didn’t hang over you every night, he could feel an overwhelming rush of affection inhabit his chest.

His arms dropped to his side as he strolled towards you, a goofy smile resting on his face.

“Should’ve brought a telescope,” he said, plopping himself into the chair beside you.

Your head lulled over to look at him, smile widening, “I think they look just fine from here, don’t you?”

Your gaze returned to the lights above you, but his eyes remained trained on you. They softened, and he suddenly felt dizzy. The way your features looked against the background of the night sky was breathtaking.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “they do.”

His tore his sight from you, instead looking into the flame in front of him. Holding back the sigh that sat in his throat, he focused on the flickering embers that floated onto the ground. It was almost laughable, how helplessly he had fallen for you. With every moment you were beside him, he just felt himself descending further. You lived rent-free in his heart, and he didn’t ever intend on evicting you.

“It’s nice to sit and relax,” you sighed, Aaron’s eyes flickering to you.

“As much as I hate to admit that you’re right,” he leaned back in his chair, head tilting to the sky, “it is nice to not wear a suit and tie for a few days.”

“I told you so,” you mumbled, unable to fight the smirk that creeped onto your lips.

“What was that?”

“I said,” you met his eyes, “I told you so.”

“I can start walking,” he threatened, his dimples on full display.

“I won’t stop you, Hotchner.”

He stood, giving you a small wave before shoving his hands into his pockets and strolling towards the front of the house. You watched him, rolling your eyes at his antics. Running to catch up to him, you linked your arm with his, pulling him back towards the fire pit. You tried to ignore the way the contact sent a warmth down the length of your spine.

“Come on, Aaron,” you whined, “you’re only pouting because I was right, and you were not.”

“Am not-“

“Yes, you are,” you stopped and looked up at him, still wrapped around his arm. A couple seconds passed before you realized how you were pressed against the length of his body, and how his eyes jumped between your own, the brown hues darkening the longer he looked at you.

A hot, searing blush spread up your chest and to your face, making you release him and step away slightly. Unable to meet his eyes, you kept your gaze trained on the floor. It was completely fantastical, the thought of you and Aaron ever being together. You fought long and hard to push your feelings for him- feelings that had always lingered in your heart- deep into the back of your thoughts, but recently, they had been popping up in your mind more than usual. There was something about the way his hair fell onto his forehead, they way his dimples creased with every laugh, the way his eyes sparkled like the stars in the sky… it captivated you and took your heart hostage.

You had spent years silently loving this man.

You began to stutter out an apology, “I’m sorry I-“

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, your eyes meeting his, “I’m not.”

“What?” Your voice was just as quiet as his.

“I’m not sorry.”

You stood there, speechless and in shock. The pounding of your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your lungs empty and temporarily disabled. He looked back at you with an expression of worry- a worry of being rejected. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, reflecting upon your answer before you decided on what to say.

“Really?”

Yeah, not exactly a scholarly reply, but you were in a bit of shock.

“Really, really,” he chuckled slightly, but his eyebrows were still turned upwards from nerves.

“God,” you sighed, “I want to kiss you.”

“I definitely won’t stop you.”

A wide, joyful smile filled your face, your feet bringing you towards him as your arms reached up to encircle his neck. His hands met your waist as soon as they could, pulling you to him as if your touch was the only thing keeping him breathing. Your chest met his, your lips mere inches from each other’s.

“How long?” You whispered, asking a simple question you knew he would understand, fingers lacing through the hair sitting on the back of his neck.

His knees almost gave out at the feeling of your breath on his lips, “Too long.”

And with that, you crashed your lips onto his, his arms immediately winding around you and squeezing you to him. It was a sweet, sweet relief, finally kissing the man you had been pining over for years. You could feel your stomach leap into your throat, your heart threatening to break through your ribs. The feeling of emptiness that usually occupied your chest had disappeared completely, filled with the love you held for the man that held you.

He wasn’t much different, heart racing and stomach churning. Loving you has been a wonderful form of self destruction, breaking down the thick walls he had built around himself to prevent vulnerability. You tore those walls down without apologies, and he had taken a chance in letting you, and wasn’t he glad he did. The darkness that encapsulated him had become the rays of sun that leaked through drawn curtains, your smile laced in every stream of light.

Pulling away from you, his chest rose and fell against your own, love struck smiles on each of your faces. He released you slightly, your hands trailing down his arms until your palms met. Lacing your fingers with his, you pulled him with you as you walked towards the house, your grin never faltering.

“We have to put out the fire,” he protested, tugging you in the opposite direction.

“Aaron,” you spoke lowly, “I swear on all things holy,” you pulled him until his chest met yours, your mouth hovering by his ear, “make it quick.”

You released him, walking backwards for a few steps before turning and ascending the stairs of the cabin porch, disappearing inside.

And, well, he definitely followed your directions.

Within record time, he was inside, pushing you against the wall of the master bedroom, hands holding your wrists above your head, lips attacking your neck.

“This is way better than what I imagined this weekend being like ,” you breathed out.

His kisses reached up to your jaw, his nose dragging along your cheek as he lifted his head, “And what did you imagine, sweetheart?” His voice held a dark and smooth tone.

“Well, a bit more sleeping, maybe a game of solitaire,” you smirked, “all the stuff old guys like to do.”

His eyes darkened even more, and you swore you heard a small growl come from him, “You’re a brat.”

He kissed you roughly, your lower lip dragging between his teeth. Releasing your hands, he hiked up the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and discarding it with a toss over his shoulder. You matched his actions, fumbling for his shirt and lifting it over his head before it floated to the floor. Slowly, your fingers and eyes trailed from his shoulders to his chest, then his stomach, gently touching the scars that littered his abdomen. He stepped away when you grazed the rough skin.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly, eyes studying the carpet below his feet.

You looked up at him, seeing the embarrassment and shame painted into his features, “Don’t apologize.”

He chuckled warily, “Bit of a mood killer.”

You sighed, fingers wrapping around his chin and tilting his head until you could see his eyes.

“I’m not going to tell you that these scars make you stronger, or that they’re a reminder of what you survived,” your hand ran through his ebony hair, “because you have always been strong, you’ve always been a survivor, and a couple scars don’t change that.”

He was still discouraged, and you could feel a pain in your chest simply from how completely broken he looked.

“Look, Aaron,” you spoke gently, “these are horrible reminders of a horrible time in your life, and you don’t need to romanticize them in order to accept them. And, when I see them,” your fingertips traced a particularly large scar on his stomach, “I see a part of you, and every part of you is perfect to me,” you looked back to his eyes, “and you, shirtless, is the complete opposite of a mood-killer.”

His eyes searched yours, his palm reaching to rest upon your cheek, “What have I done to deserve you?”

You smiled sweetly, holding his face and kissing him softly, “I could say the same about you, but I figure I shouldn’t inflate your ego.”

He hissed as if he touched a hot stove, head turning away from you slightly.

“Ouch,” he chuckled, “I take it back.”

“No you don’t,” you whispered as you pulled his lips to yours again.

“No, I don’t,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Now,” your arms wrapped lazily around his neck, lips ghosting over his, “stop stalling and put that big ego to use.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he growled, and he kept his word until the sun came up.

***

It was the pleasant and light chirping of the birds that woke you. Your eyelids cracked open to see sunlight draped over the room, spilling onto the white sheets that rested upon your body. A low groan sounded from behind you, the arm draped over your waist tightening slightly.

“Good morning,” his voice slipped out as a rumble of words, sleep weighing heavily on him.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” you twisted yourself so you laid on your back, fingers tracing along and forearm wrapped around you.

“Sleep well?” He asked, leaning forward to place gentle kisses just below your jaw.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes closing languidly. He chuckled against your skin, repositioning himself so he leaned on his elbow, hovering above you. The dark strands of his hair poked up in every direction, his half lidded eyes shining the color of honey in the morning light.

“Did you?” You whispered, playing with the hair just above his ear.

He pretended to bite at your hand, “Better than usual.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you winked, letting out a giggle when he nuzzled himself into your neck. He immediately decided it was his favorite sound.

“Let’s just lay here all day,” he sighed, lifting his head from you once again.

“I would love nothing more,” you ran a hand through his messy hair, “but you told Jess you would be home by dinner, and Jack gets back tonight.”

“Just an hour, then,” he wagered, “I’ll drive the entire way home.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you knew you would give in. There was no denying the persuasions of Aaron Hotchner when he wore the dawn like a halo, smiling at you like you were the only thing that existed on earth.

“Fine,” you drawled, “but only because you’re cute.”

“Damn straight,” he poked at your sides, smiling wider when you let out a squeak.

“Don’t even start,” you threatened, “we are having a good morning.”

“Oh, I just can’t help myself,” his hand ghosted over your side, sending a shiver through you, “I just love to hear you laugh.”

“You’re soft,” you rolled your eyes, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He followed you as your head landed on the pillow, keeping his lips pressed to yours. Arms winding around his shoulders, your body molded to his. You almost whined when he pulled away from you.

He was scanning over your features, a certain sparkle in his eye and a content smile on his face.

“What?” You asked quietly, “What is it?”

“I-“ he cut himself off, biting his lower lip to keep himself from talking.

“Aaron,” you held his face in your hands, “what is it?”

“I just…” he hesitated, but the way the sunlight soaked into your skin and reflected into your eyes made it impossible for him to hold his tongue any longer, “I just love you. So much.”

The world froze around you, breath and heart stopping alike. All you saw was his face, the honey of his brown eyes, the warm smile on his lips. It was almost overwhelming, how purely beautiful he was, with a golden light enveloping him, making him impossibly soft.

“You love…” your words were merely a breath, any and all strength from your voice lost, “I… I love you, too”

He let out a small laugh- a sound you could listen to until your heart halted permanently and your lungs could no longer breathe- an expression of absolute, unbridled joy consuming his features. Shaking his head slightly, his forehead met yours gently.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips and onto yours, and God, did they taste sweet.

“I love you,” it was a mantra, a prayer, and he couldn’t stop himself from repeating the three words he held in the privacy of his thoughts for far too long.

Your fingers gripped onto his raven hair, your smile wide and giggling, “I love you, too.”

His lips met yours in desperation, kissing you with a feverish passion, as if he would never see you again. You let your hands explore the soft skin of his shoulders, trailing along his arms.

“Please don’t make me leave this bed,” his lips brushed yours with every word he spoke.

“Not now,” you promised, a compromise, “later.”

“I will take every minute,” he sighed, reconnecting his lips to yours.

And it was beautiful, the way his hands caressed you, the way his kiss lingered. He kept his word, cherishing every last moment with you. If he could, he would’ve begged the sun to stay in it’s waking state, stretching the morning for an impossible amount of time, simply to spend it in your arms and under the sheets. But, the day continued on despite his wishes, and the dread and fear of leaving you was one that settled heavily in his stomach.

It wasn’t until he reached his home, your hand intertwined with his, your smile warm and inviting, that his awful feelings were able to disappear.

It took one look at you- with the way your eyes latched onto him like he had hung every star in the sky, your skin illuminated by the soft hues of the sunset- then he knew, the love you shared would bring you back together, no matter how far the world tried to tear you apart.

“I love you,” your eyes sparkled as you spoke. He thought of the sky over the cabin.

“I love you,” he replied, “so much.”

taglist:

@quillvine @winterscaptain

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #fluff

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 8 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mention of loss

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

Chapter 8: Red Tulip Means ‘Declaration of Love’

“Alex,” Thomas smiled broadly.

“Yup, that’s me,” Alex grinned, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought food. And that I am barging in on you. I know that birthdays aren’t really your thing, but I did want to do something, so I thought I’d keep it small, but if it’s not okay then-”

Thomas crushed him into a hug, cutting him off: “You’re such a doll, thank you.”

Muffled Alex replied: “No problem,” he wanted to add ‘did it with love,’ but he didn’t want to make it weird, even if it was true.

“I’m glad you didn’t throw a big party or anything,” Thomas said, stepping back and squeezing his the base of his neck before letting go completely and inviting him, “Here, come in.”

He lead Alex over to the couch and got them both something to drink, while Alex set the food out on the table and started up the TV.

When Thomas sat down, Alex said: “You get to pick the movie, but first unwrap this,” as he handed him the small flat, neatly wrapped package.

“Did you wrap this?” Thomas asked, slightly surprised with disbelief tainting his voice.

“Are you saying I couldn't?” Alex sounded offended, but not that seriously.

“I don’t know, you don’t seem the wrapping type,” Thomas shrugged.

“I’ll have you know that I am the king in gift wrapping. The only one better than me in wrapping is Eliza and she can happily have my crown,” Alex said, slightly too proud of the minor achievement, which was adorable.

Thomas chuckled: “Okay, okay, I believe you.”

“Years of practice, baby,” Alex flexed his little noodle arms.

That elicited a snort out of Thomas, who just shook his head with a smile as he carefully started unwrapping the gift.

Alex watched it for a moment, before he couldn't take it. He had promised himself to wait until Thomas’s birthday was over, but this was just too far: “Oh my God, why are you unwrapping it like that? How old are you again? Sixty?”

“Not you too,” Thomas practically wailed.

“I wasn’t going to say it… today,” Alex protested, “But- I mean, come on, with the tape and the saving the wrapping paper.”

“Ugh, excuse me for not tearing it apart like a monster,” Thomas guffawed.

“It’s kinda funny…” Alex bit his lip, “Old man.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t, but I thought you were on my side, not with James, Laf and Angelica,” Thomas pouted.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be on team cool, when you’re on the other team,” Alex teased, poking Thomas in the side.

The pout deepened: “You’re so mean to me.”

“Yet, I still got you a gift, so forgive and forget,” Alex offered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Thomas said, going back to carefully unwrapping the gift, not changing his ways and taking his sweet time just because he could.

In the the wrapping paper was a pink book with lungs with flowers growing in them on the cover. On the top it said in cursive ‘a poetry collection’ and the title was: i saw you as a flower, written by Ellen Everet.

“I still have the receipt if you don’t like it, but I know you like to try new authors and I saw it and I thought of you,” Alex rambled.

He once again got cut off by a hug, this time paired with a kiss.

Thomas couldn't express how touched he was by the gift. It was both cute and thoughtful, with a reference to a little thing they did and tied to something he liked to do. Only James had given him such a personal gift in the past seven years.

“You’re so good to me,” Thomas whispered, “I want to keep you forever, you precious little thing.”

“Forever?” Alex whispered back, a little hopeful yet cautious.

It only then clicked for Thomas what he had actually said. He flushed and started to backtrack: “I mean- I don’t- no-” then remembered his conversation with James, “Well, I would be up for it, but just a boyfriend would be nice for now.”

Immediately Alex’s frame relaxed and he beamed. He leaned into Thomas’s side and said: “That does sound nice.”

“So, does that- do you- do you want that?” Thomas had to double check, a voice in his mind telling him to not believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I would,” Alex smiled, “I’m actually glad you spoke up first, isn’t that sad? Me, always opinions everywhere, never quiet.”

“Hey, we all have our moment and I won’t have you bad mouth my boyfriend,” there were flutters in his stomach just saying that and he saw them reflected in Alex’s eyes.

“Sap,” Alex pushed him over.

He stuck out his tongue and retorted: “It’s your sap now.”

“Yeah, my sap,” Alex repeated giddily.

Thomas sat up again, quickly leafing through the book: “But really, thanks for this, I’m definitely reading it,” before putting it to the side and pulling Alex close to him, “I say we watch The Breakfast Club.”

“I love that movie,” Alex smiled, putting it on, before settling againstThomas’s heart.

Thomas noticed Alex did this thing where he wiggled under his arm and made himself small against his side. He wasn’t sure if Alex knew he did it, but he always looked so content tucked into Thomas’s side, so Thomas couldn't bring himself to say anything about it with the risk that Alex stopped.

The opening of the movie rolled and Thomas just held Alex against his side, warmth that he could say he was cuddling with his boyfriend.

When Thomas awoke the next morning it was with a still asleep Alex tucked against his side in the bed. He smiled softly and tucked Alex’s hair behind his ear and placing a kiss on the forehead of his boyfriend.

He smiled at that and tightened his grip on Alex, the man starting to stir with that. Blearily he blinked and asked: “Wha’s going on?”

“Hey there, sleepy head,” Thomas replied, “We have work today, you need to get up.”

Alex groaned and burrowed his face in Thomas’s chest: “But you’re so comfy.”

Thomas chuckled lightly, but Alex looked to adorable to argue with him. His hair was a mess and his eyes half closed as he curled into himself and tugged the pillow over his head slightly. So he said: “I’m making coffee, you can come down in a few minutes and I’ll pour you a cup.”

A small smile made its way onto Alex’s face and he mumbled: “So good to me,” before rolling over once more.

At that Thomas rolled his eyes then he got out of the bed and got dressed, before padding his way downstairs. There was a lightness in his step after yesterday and he felt better than he had in a while, like he could do anything.

He stopped at Martha’s photo in the kitchen. He didn’t have many pictures, but he had a few Martha’s around the house. He smiled at her and said: “God, if you could see me now, you’d be so proud of me for being happy.”

Behind him Alex watched him, still in his pajamas. He smiled softly, before retreating, not wanting to intrude on the moment. He hadn’t noticed the pictures the first time he was there, but he was glad that Thomas had at least something.

A few minutes later he came back, fully dressed this time, and pecked Thomas on the cheek as he greeted him: “Good morning.”

“Ah, awake now, are we?” Thomas teased, planting a quick kiss on Alex’s lips and handing him a mug that Alex took gratefully.

“Yeah,” Alex said, “Slept well again, didn’t want to let it go just yet.”

“Hm, you usually seem to sleep well, that not true?” Thomas frowned, the answer prickling something in his mind.

Alex looked up from his mug, confused, before smiling softly and explaining: “I usually wake up early, with Pip and just general bad sleepinghabits, but having someone next to me makes it easier to sleep.”

Thomas nodded thoughtfully, glad that he could help Alex to sleep like a normal person. The man had enough bad habits as it was.

They moved throughthe morning, gathering their stuff and getting in Alex’s car, Thomas deciding he could get back on his own after work, since Alex was goingto pick up Philip from Eliza after work.

It was the first time they came together since they started flirting. Normally when one stayed the night it was in the weekend, but despite some of the looks they got, it didn’t feel weird. It was just the next step and both were excited to take it.

One of the people that noticed was Angelica, who pulled Alex into her office, eyebrows wiggling: “So, Alex, how was the birthday boy?”

“Shut up, it was nothing like that. We stayed the night together before, you know,” Alex rolled his eyes at her, hoping he wasn’t blushing.

“But Pip was in the house then,” Angelica protested.

“And there have been times he was not,” Alex countered.

“Come on, give me something,” Angelica shook his arm, “I see in your eyes that something big has happened. Tell me.”

Alex contemplated letting her splutter a bit more, but it wasn’t necessary, because she threatened: “I am willing to break my promise to never mention Hammy the Cat to Thomas.”

“Okay, okay, calm down, I was going to tell you anyway,” he said, then grinned, “I just got a boyfriend, so tha-”

“What?” Angelica shook him even harder, “You made it official?”

He nodded excitedly, before saying: “I’m gonna tell Eliza when I see her, but I don’t know who Thomas is telling and I don’t wanna be weird about it, so try to keep it on the down low, okay? It’s not a secret or anything, just don’t go yelling it off the roof.”

“Of course,” Angelica promised, “God, ‘Lexi, I’m so excited for you.”

“Me too, Angie, me too.”

They chatted a bit more, before Alex couldn't justify wasting work time to himself anymore and they split ways to get to work.

Meanwhile Thomas had barely made himself comfortable behind his desk when his phone went off, he had put the sound on because it was his birthday the day before and forgotten to turn it off again. He saw the caller ID and sighed, it was his mom, he couldn't ignore her again.

He picked up with a: “Hi, Ma, how are you?”

“I would be better if I had a son that could pick up on his birthday so that I could congratulate him properly, but we can’t have everything, I suppose,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

“Sorry, Ma, I got caught up and missed you,” he explained.

“Well, congratulations anyway,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Did you have a fun day, with the getting caught up in things, I hope it were good things,” she went on, “Because if they made you work overtime on your birthday I’m having words with Washington, I don’t care how good of a boss he is.”

“No, it was good, don’t worry, Ma,” Thomas assured her.

“Yeah, what were you doing? I barely talk to you these days, tell me what’s going on in your life.”

Thomas cringed at that, he had run off to France after Martha’s death and with her buried in Virginia, he had been avoiding his home and family for a while now. He made an excuse: “I’m at work right now.”

“And I am your mother, you can spare me a few minutes,” she said, “Are you still coming to Monticello this summer?”

“Yeah, I’m still coming to Monticello,” Thomas confirmed, he felt bad about ignoring her and he wanted to go home again.

“Good, I miss having you around.”

“I know, Ma,” Thomas felt guilty about not telling her about Alex. She had done a lot for him as a single mother of nine after his dad had died, he could see with Alex how much work it could be. He could spare a few moments to talk to her about everything.

He cleared his throat and said: “Actually, I missed you, because- uhm, my- my boyfriend had gotten me flowers and in the evening he came by to watch a movie together, so I wasn’t on my phone much yesterday.”

“A boyfriend?” she repeated, a bit of delight in her voice.

“Yeah,” he was blushing, “it’s kinda recent thing, well, maybe not, but it wasn’t really official until yesterday, so you’re still the first to hear about it. Sort of.”

“Tommy, I’m so happy for you,” she sounded really glad for him, which was a weight off his shoulders, “After Martha, I never thought I’d hear you sound like that.”

“Me neither,” Thomas confessed.

“Want to tell me about this mystery boy?”

“His name is Alex,” Thomas started softly, suddenly shy, “I know him from work. He’s also friends with Laf and Angelica.”

“Well, I trust Laf and Angie to have good taste,” he could hear the smile in her voice and suddenly he missed her so much.

He chuckled and blinked away tears suddenly welling up. God, he hadn’t been home in ages, having skipped last Christmas.

“What makes this Alex boyfriend material?” his Maasked.

Thomas knew the answer to that: “He can keep up with me in conversation, always keeping me on my toes, yet it’s so easy to talk with him. He’s just filled with passion and it’s amazing to see, but he’s totally different and gentle in other moments. Like with Philip, his son, it’s whack to see.”

“He has a child?”

“Yeah,” Thomas hesitated, “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no,” his Maassured him, “Just make sure you don’t get caught up in a divorce mess.”

“Oh, no, Ma, he’s a widower.”

It was quiet for a moment, then his Mareplied: “I’m sorry for his loss, how terrible. Did it happen recently?”

“Almost five years now,” Thomas answered, he knew why she asked. She wanted to know if he wasn’t being used to get through grief. He was touched by her concerned, but knew that wasn’t the case.

“So, I’m getting an grandchild,” she swiftly moved on, satisfied with his answer.

“You already have grandchildren,” Thomas laughed.

“But now I also have a grandson,” she told him.

“If everything goes alright, yeah.”

“You’re gonna be- I’m happy for you,” she said, “I would love to meet them sometime, ask if they want to come to Monticello this summer.”

“I-” Thomas didn’t know what to respond to that, sure, it was a few months away, but that was a big ask and maybe way to fast, “I- I’ll ask him,” he finally decided on.

“Good,” he could practically see his mother nodding, “I’ll let you get back to work now. Don’t forget to call me from time to time.”

“I’ll try,” and he promised to himself to actually try.

“Goodbye, Tommy.”

“Bye, Ma.”

After he hung up, he sat in his office for a moment, mulling over the conversation. It felt good to tell his Maand the conversation had made him more convicted in how much he wanted this relationship to stay.

He worked ‘till lunch then went over to Alex’s office, opening the door and greeting: “Hi, you hungry yet?”

Alex looked up from his furious typing and smiled. He stopped typing completely and replied: “Ah, my wonderful boyfriend, with food offerings.”

It was clear he said that just because he wanted to say boyfriend and Thomas couldn't help the grin that painted on his face, though he still teased: “Oh, am I really nothing more than food to you? I see how it is.”

“You got other qualities too,” Alex assured him, before teasing, “Like- like- oh, this is harder than I thought.”

“Dick.”

Alex just blew him a kiss and Thomas decided to drop it. He watched Alex put his work to the side and felt pride in his chest. When they’d first started eating lunch together, Alex would keep getting distracted by his work, but now he packed it away without needing a reminder.

They ate lunch and argued about which came first: the chicken or the egg. Thomas decided chicken, while Alex was in camp egg, all sparked by the egg on Thomas’s sandwich.

At the end, he did tell Alex about telling his mother after she called, which Alex was luckily cool about it. He just told Thomas that it was cool he had a mom and he should cherish the contact he had with her. However, he hadn’t yet asked him to go to Monticello with him, that felt a bit too soon.

After Thomas’s birthday they gradually fell into a new rhythm, wherein Thomas was over at Alex’s house from Thursday afternoon to Monday morning.

When Alex had to pick up Philip on Fridays. He was home earlier, so he would cook, while Thomas would cook on Thursday, since Alex would have to swing by whoever had picked up Philip that day. Though Thomas would pick up Philip from his Aunties and Uncles often enough.

They hadn’t even fully noticed how embedded they were into each others lives until Alex had a late last minute meeting on a Tuesday, right as he was about to leave to pick up Philip.

“No one is there to pick up Pip,” he said to Thomas the moment he’d heard about the meeting, “Oh fuck, Washington will kick my ass if I miss this meeting. Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“I’ll pick him up,” Thomas had offered it before thinking about it.

“You?” Alex took a moment to let the offer sink in, “That’s- that’s perfect, oh fuck, thanks. Thank you so so much.”

“Hey, no problem, might as well at this point,” Thomas assured him, only now realizing he’d never picked up Philip from schoolbefore.

“And you’re sure you don’t have anything important that’ll get between you and picking up Pip?” with anyone else it would sound like distrust, but Thomas knew how much Alex worried and cared about Philip’s well being.

“Nah, everyone who could need me is in your meeting, I’m just lucky I have nothing to do with your little project,” Thomas replied, “I just need a note from you with a signature stating it’s okay for me to take Pip with me, might be a bit awkward otherwise.”

Alex snorted at that, before quickly penning it down and repeating the school and address along with the time school was out.

Before Thomas was out the office, Alex stopped him with a quick kiss: “You’re the best, thank you so much.”

“No problem, go kick ass in your meeting, darlin’,” Thomas smiled.

He got a thumbs up in return as Alex spun on his heel and sped off, leaving Thomas to make his way to his car and drive to Philip’s school after emailing Washington about the situation.

Thomas parked in front of the building and walked to the front desk, note in hand where he interrupted the sectary in her typing: “Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas, I’m here to pick up Philip, Philip Hamilton. First time, where do I go?”

“Ah, Ms. Dolley’s kindergarten class? It’s down that hall, do you have parent’s permission?” she replied pleasantly.

“Ah, yeah, right here,” he handed her the note and she checked it over meticulously, before nodding and giving it back: “Seems alright, have a good day.”

“You too,” Thomas nodded back awkwardly, before going down the indicated hall.

When he got to the classroom only Philip was left. He felt pretty bad that the whole thing had made him that late, but better late than never, he reasoned, hoping Philip would agree. He knocked on the door frame: “Hello, here Philip.”

Philip’s head shot up from his coloring book and he cheered: “Uncle Thomas!”

“Hey there, kiddo, sorry for the lateness,” Thomas greeted back, catching the running child in his arms and sweeping him around, before putting him down again, “Go grab your stuff, okay.”

The kid nodded and went about gathering his last stuff, while Thomas shook the hand of the teacher: “Hi, I’m Thomas, I have a note from Alex if you need it.”

“Ah, so you’re the famous Thomas, good to finally put a face to the name,” the teacher replied, “I’m Dolley, it’s nice to meet you.”

Thomas smiled: “Yeah, I somehow never got around to it, mostly picking him up from one of his Aunts or Uncles instead of school.”

“No need to explain yourself to me, I get it with a long job, you’re not the only parent,” she said pleasantly, “Can I see the note, just in case.”

“Of course,” Thomas handed her the note, deciding not to comment on the parent-part.

While she inspected it too, Philip finished packing and asked Thomas: “Why isn’t Papa picking me up? I thought he was going to?”

“Your Papa had a meeting, it was unplanned and last minute. He really wanted to come, Pip, but your Grandpa George needed him,” Thomas explained.

“Was he being way smarter than everyone else and did they need him to kick butt?” Philip asked.

Thomas laughed at the kid’s wording that was obviously Alex’s and agreed: “Yeah, they did, kiddo, they did.”

“Whoo, epic Papa, kicking everyone’s butt,” Philip cheered making ninja poses.

He ruffled the kid’s hair and nodded with a smile. Dolley gave him back the note and said: “Well, looks like everything’s in order, so you’re free to go,” she turned to Pip, “Have a good afternoon, Philip, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“‘Till tomorrow, Ms. Dolley,” Philip smiled a big toothy grin that was so much like Alex’s.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Thomas bid her farewell, before leading Philip outside, listening to his stories about coloring and their epic game of hide and seek during recess.

His own car had been outfitted with a booster seat as well after too many times of almost forgetting to transfer it. He buckled Philip in, then remembered Alex had his key of the house after leaving it at his office yesterday.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, before turning to Philip, “Hey, kiddo, how do you feel about seeing my house for a change?”

“That’ll be the coolest,” Philip clapped his hands.

“Good, good,” Thomas nodded, before texting Alex about the change of plans then he put his phone away to focus on driving.

As they drove Philip talked more about his day at school, before moving on to trees and finally windows. Thomas wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up at the topic, but it was kind of wonderful how much the kid could ramble on about anything if it caught his interest. Again Thomas saw Alex in him.

They rolled up into his driveway and Philip gaped: “You live there?”

It wasn’t that much bigger than Alex’s house, since it was near each other, but the woodwork was definitely more elaborate and Thomas had put a lot of thought in the front of his house. He confirmed: “Yeah, I live there, Pip. Wanna see the inside?”

Philip nodded quickly and Thomas unbuckled him and let him run to the front door, while he grabbed their stuff.

Thomas unlocked the door and told Philip: “Shoes off, please. You’re free to explore to your hearts desire, just come eat a snack and drink something in the kitchen first. It’s on the left there.”

Toeing his shoes off and handing Thomas his jacket, Philip was gone, peaking through every door he encountered on his way to the kitchen, while Thomas hung up their coats. He stopped and stared for a moment at the little coat hanging on his coat rack, shaking his head with adoring disbelief that this was his life now.

He got to the kitchen, mentally thinking of what he had to give to Philip, when he stopped in the doorway. Philip was looking at the picture of Martha he had in the kitchen. He didn’t say anything as he poured him a glass of orange juice.

When he handed it to him, Philipasked: “Who is that?”

Looking at the picture, words from the email from now seemingly so long ago came to him and he said: “That’s your Auntie Martha, she’s with the angels like your Daddy, but she preferred saying she was dancing among the stars. She’s looking over you from there, she’ll guide you home when you’re lost.”

Philip hummed and looked back to the picture studying it closely, before saying: “She’s pretty, like Auntie Maria and Auntie Peggy.”

“Yeah, she is,” Thomas agreed softly.

“Was she your Daddy?”

It took a moment for Thomas to decipher the question, but then he agreed: “She was, yeah. Me and her were married just like your Papa and Daddy were.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Philip drank his orange juice while Thomas sliced an apple. When the juice was gone, Philip decided: “I like her.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Thomas said, giving him the apple slices, “Eat these and then you’re all set.”

Philip happily munched on the slices, before thanking Thomas and rushing off to explore the house, leaving Thomas to think about today.

Ms. Dolley had assumed he was the other parent. It was probably because Philip had told them he was his Papa’s boyfriend, but he hadn’t even protested. He had a booster seat in his car and he was getting sentimental about a coat.

Somehow, Philip had wormed his way into Thomas’s heart and he couldn't imagine a life without the little kid and Alex.

Fuck.

He had accidentally adopted a kid – sort of – while he hadn’t even told the kid’s parent and his boyfriendthat he loved him. He did, God, of course he did, but he hadn’t said it yet.

At all.

And neither had Alex.

“Uncle Thomas!” Philip yelled and he immediately dropped any other thought as he rushed to the sound.

“What’s up kiddo?”

“You framed my picture,” Philip pointed out happily.

“I said I would, didn’t I. I made a pinky promise, I don’t make those lightly,” Thomas told him with a smile, looking at the portrait at end of the hallway. He had hung it up as promised right when he came back from that second date. With all his younger siblings and his two nieces he knew how important it was to make a big deal out of their art and he hadn’t even thought about it.

He looked at the portrait again and made up his mind, he was going to tell Alex he loved him. But he was doing it subtly, because fuck, that shit was too scary for him.

By the time Philip had seen all the rooms and asked a thousand questions about the books on the shelves and the souvenirs decorating the rooms, he was exhausted and had collapsed on the couch while Thomas made dinner.

The door opened and Alex’s voice rang through the hall: “I swear, the next time I see Lee and Adams, they won’t like me. Not that they do now, but oh my God.”

“Hello to you too, darling,” Thomas called back.

“Papa!” two tiny feet pattered down the hall.

Thomas could hear Alex laugh and Philip squeal, before he appeared in the doorway with his son on his hip. He kissed Thomas’s cheek and said: “Hi, Thomas, have a good afternoon with this little scoundrel here?”

“Of course, he was a proper gentlemen, right Pip?” he replied, stirring the food.

Philip nodded: “I explored the house, Uncle Thomas has my picture on the wall and I have another Auntie, did you know I have another Auntie?”

“Really?” Alex raised a brow at Thomas, but before he could say anything, Philip was already responding: “Yeah, she’s Auntie Martha and she’s very pretty. She has all the pretty dresses in the pictures and she smiles nice. Uncle Thomas said she’s dancing among the stars, isn’t that super cool?”

Realization dawned on Alex and his face softened as he send Thomas a small smile: “Yeah, Pip, that is super cool. Your Auntie Martha is watching out for you, just like Daddy.”

During dinner Philip recounted his day, while Thomas assured Alex that everything had gone well during the pick up, before Alex complained about his meeting, apologizing to Philip that he couldn't pick him up.

When dinner was done, Philip asked: “Are we going to have a sleepover here?”

Alex looked to Thomas, who shrugged and indicated that it was up to Alex and he didn’t mind either way. Alex asked in turn: “I don’t know, buddy. Would you like to?”

Philip’s eyes lit up and he said: “Oh, can I, Papa? Can I?”

“Sure, buddy,” Alex chuckled.

“Come on, kiddo,” Thomas got up, “If you help me carry these dishes you get to pick a guest room to sleep in, I’m sure you already found all ofthem.”

Thomas and Philip walked out of the room, leaving Alex to watch them with a content smile as he stayed seated for a while. Taking care of Philip had never been a burden and his friends helped him out so much, but it was nice to have Thomas around.

They allowed Philip to play a little more after dinner, before dressing him in one of Thomas’s sleep shirts and Alex made up a story about a knight, who befriended a dragon and rode between the clouds, before they fell tiredly on the couch.

After a moment of just them sitting there, Alex said: “Thank you for picking up Pip.”

“It really wasn’t a problem, ‘Lex,” Thomas assured him, “I like doing stuff for Pip, he’s a good kid and it wasn’t a problem, so don’t go worrying about it. I see your little eyes.”

“Hey, don’t insult my eyes,” Alex huffed, but Thomas saw relief in there.

“Not insulting, darlin’, I like your eyes too much for that,” he grinned.

“Sap,” Alex rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest when Thomas pulled him into a kiss, before draping himself over Thomas and staying there as they watched Designated Survivor, which they had multiple discussions about.

Alex thought it was good to be as honest as Tom Kirkman was being, while Thomas thought that it was stupid seeing the circumstances. And when Alex said it worked in his favor, Thomaswas quick to point out that it was a script and not real life, which ended up in a discussion of how it could have played out otherwise.

Over the course of the following days, Thomas made a plan to confess to Alex that he loved him. It involved bothering James, who didn’t appreciate it, and bothering Laf, who had to be sworn to secrecy using his Ma’s chocolate chip cookie recipe as a bribe.

He set it in motion the Friday a week later. Alex had left work early to pick up Philip from school, so when Thomas left he went past a flower shop and got red tulips.

First he had wanted to go with roses, but his whole plan hinged on subtlety, since he was going over to James’s house in the weekend, because they hadn’t hung out in forever, while Alex was taking Philip and visiting Herc after the man had gotten the weekend off after a huge fashion deal.

So, he would give the flowers and before Alex could decipher the meaning, he would be gone. Not having to see the reaction or deal with any of that in the moment, giving Alex space to not reject him immediately in his face.

It was perfect if he did say so himself.

With the tulips in hand he opened the door and called out a greeting. From the kitchen he heard Alex’s reply, but his first focus was on Philip, who wanted to show him a drawing he made at school that day.

He stopped however, when he saw the flowers in Thomas’s hand. Cocking his head to the side, he asked: “What are those?”

“They’re tulips, I saw them and got them for your Papa,” Thomas explained. Philip inspected them closely and Thomas couldn't help himself, when he asked: “Up to your standard, Mr. Inspector?”

Philip didn’t mind, with the family he had it was impossible not to be slightly sarcastic, so he just grinned: “On thin ice, but I give you a green light.”

“Why thank you.”

At that point Alex stuck his head through the door into the hallway and asked: “What’s holding you two up? The hallway that interesti-” he stopped when he saw the flowers and asked, “What are those for?”

“Just saw them and thought it would be nice,” Thomas shrugged, like he hadn’t planned this out in detail.

“How sweet,” Alex smiled when Thomas handed him the flowers.

Thomas took a moment to appreciate Alex in all his domestic beauty. He had an apron on and there were a few pans simmering on the stove while he cut the flowers and set them in a vase, nodding in approval to himself when he gave them a spot.

It was so crazy, yet so good to see the man he loved so relaxed and at home. The sight stirred something proud in Thomas’s chest, the small part he played in making Alex look like that as a badge of honor on his chest.

The feeling moved him to hug Alex from behind, lifting him slightly of the ground and making him gasp before he giggled.

He blew a raspberry on his cheek then set him down, taking full responsibility for the tickles he got in retaliation.

This was good, he felt good and he only hoped he hadn’t entirely fucked it up by telling Alex how he felt.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

I have not read the poetry itself, but the title was just too fitting not to include it in this fic. I did order it, so maybe by the time I’m posting it I have, but at the time of writing: no.

Also I am not writing smut, just not doing that. If you wanna think they have sex you can, but honestly I’m not touching that with a ten feet pole. No shame to people who do, just not for me <3

(hi im a greyaroace nonbinary lesbian if you think I know how to write that, then you would be incorrect)

#RR Writing #tw: loss mention #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #Alexander Hamilton #Thomas Jefferson #Philip Hamilton #Angelica Schuyler #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 8 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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misscorn · 3 years

Text

Day 7

Favorite Series

I think its no surprise that sekaiichi hatsukoi is my favorite series @sihjrweek ❤❤ this has been fun! Thank you everyone for your nice words about my fics which ended up becoming a 'they never broke up' au lmao and thank you @sekaiichis for hosting 💕💖💕

***

Onodera Ritsu was an easily flustered man. So, it was moments like this when his lover was asleep that he took the opportunity to admire him. Normally, Ritsu wouldn't be able to so blatantly stare without his boyfriend making some sort of comment. So, the brunette had to take what he could get. The aforementioned boyfriend, Takano Masamune, was very handsome after all. Not that Ritsu could ever let him know that. He already had such a big head.

Yes, Takano and not Saga, but Ritsu and his high school sweetheart hadn't suffered a breakup. In fact, his high school sweetheart was the one in bed with him right now. Unfortunately, Masamune's parents had gone through a divorce and Masamune found out the man who raised him was not his real father. Thus, the name change. It had been a difficult time, to say the least. It was not something either of them enjoyed reminiscing about.

Ritsu had been very worried when Masamune told him everything that happened with his parents. He was concerned not only for Masamune's well being, but also for their relationship. Masamune had the tendency to push everyone away when he was hurting.

Ritsu had been afraid of being annoying or making things worse, but he stayed by Masamune's side through the whole thing whether he wanted him to or not. There had been definite moments of tensions, moments where Ritsu thought Masamune might be slipping away from him, but in the end they got through it together.

The habit of carrying all your burdens by yourself was one that both Ritsu and Masamune had to overcome, neither of them used to relying on someone else during rough times, but a lot had changed over these past 8 years. That included Ritsu moving into Masamune's apartment after he graduated from his University. Masamune had offered Ritsu to move in with him much sooner than that and as much as Ritsu would have liked that, Ritsu knew he'd never get any schoolwork done with Masamune around.

Ritsu sighed contently as he watched Masamune sleep, reaching out to gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes. He smiled affectionately, his hand moving down to cup his cheek with a feather-light touch.

Masamune turned his head and kissed the palm of his hand, making Ritsu jump. "Good morning." He greeted gruffly, his voice rough from just waking up.

"G-g-good m-morning." Ritsu went to pull his hand away, but Masamune held on to it and continued to press kisses against it.

"Please, feel free to keep staring." He said between kisses.

"I was NOT staring." Ritsu quickly denied.

"Mm, you're getting better at lying. Should I be worried?" Masamune asked.

"Shut up." Ritsu said.

Masamune smiled tiredly. They both had today off, so he was looking forward to spending the day with the brunette. Both men worked as editors, Ritsu working for his father's company in the literature department and Masamune working for a magazine called Weekly Earth, but both of them were starting to consider leaving their positions due to trouble with coworkers.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Masamune asked.

"I thought it was my turn to make breakfast."

"I don't mind."

"Just say you hate my cooking." Ritsu said, making Masamune laugh.

"Yeah, I hate your cooking."

"Jerk."

"You know I'm joking." Masamune gave another sleepy grin. "But if you wanna cook that bad, be my guest." He said.

Ritsu sat up and stretched a little. "I'm gonna shower first."

"Is that an invitation?"

"No." Ritsu rolled his eyes, used to the casual perversion.

"What if I crash the party anyways?"

"Go back to sleep if you're gonna be annoying." Ritsu stood, his words holding no real bite.

Masamune laid there contently, watching Ritsu walk off to the bathroom before he rolled over to grab his phone. He scrolled mindlessly for a couple minutes before Ritsu's ringtone went off. He set his own phone aside to check the caller ID, wondering if it was An or another friend of Ritsu's that he knew.

Mom

Masamune frowned and rolled back over to face away from it. 8 years later and Masamune still hadn't met Ritsu's parents. Ritsu had met his mom in high school, albeit it was an accident. Masamune thought the two of them would be alone all night and his mom ended up coming home while Masamune was being very affectionate with Ritsu on the couch.

It had gone okay after Ritsu stopped losing his mind and Masamune had gotten over the embarrassment. Masamune didn't have a lot shame, but no one wanted their mom to walk in on them making out with their partner.

Kotoko had been certainly shocked at first and while she didn't love the idea of Masamune having a boyfriend, she was not going to try to get in the way.

Ritsu probably only saw her once more after that, but it made sense since Kotoko was not heavily involved in Masamune's life, if at all.

Ritsu's mother on the other hand...

Ritsu visited his parents' house about once a month, though somehow he managed to keep them from coming over here, and he got frequent calls from his mother, usually about marriage. That silly engagement between An and Ritsu had ended a while ago, but that didn't stop Youko from trying. She was starting to try to set up match making sessions as well.

Masamune sighed, some of his good mood stolen from him as he stood and put a shirt on. He then slid into the bathroom to brush his teeth, Ritsu already in the shower with the curtain closed.

"I come in peace." Masamune said before he grabbed his toothbrush.

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah, but you forget that you think way too loudly. You were definitely yelling something in your mind about me being a pervert." Masamune said, his tone giving away his amusement.

Ritsu just grumbled something intelligible as Masamune brushed his teeth. The older man actually kept true to his word and didn't jump Ritsu in the shower, even if he wanted to. Instead he left to go into the kitchen.

Masamune decided he was too impatient to wait for Ritsu to finish his shower, so he put on a pot of coffee before starting breakfast.

"You do hate my cooking." Ritsu said, coming into the kitchen just as Masamune plated the food.

"I didn't feel like waiting." Masamune shrugged. "You want coffee?"

"I shouldn't." Ritsu sighed. He was getting addicted to the stuff.

"So, that's a yes?" Masamune asked, already pouring the hot drink into two mugs, adding creamer and sugar to Ritsu's and leaving his own black. They sat down together, Ritsu thanking Masamune for the meal.

The two ate in silence, which wasn't unusual, but Ritsu could tell there was something on Masamune's mind. He seemed a little more spacey and there were no attempts to hold his hand or make any flirty comments, which just wasn't like Masamune at all.

"What's wrong?" Ritsu asked.

"Hm? Nothing, nothing's wrong, I was just thinking..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the response he might get. "You...want to marry me, right?"

"M-M-Marry you?!" Ritsu was glad he hadn't been drinking or eating at that moment because he surely would've choked on it.

"Yeah, not right now, I want to propose in a more romantic way than that, but like...you do want to marry me, right?"

Ritsu blushed a deep red. Masamune had to fight back a smile at the sight. It was nice to know that after so many years Masamune could still make him blush like that.

"Y-Yes, o-of course I want to marry you, b-but why are you suddenly asking about this?" He asked.

"...Your mom called while you were in the shower." Masamune said honestly.

"Eh?! Did you pick up?" Ritsu asked. Did Masamune talk to his mom? Not only that, but did Masamune talk to his mom about MARRIAGE?!

"No, I didn't, but I know she's always trying to set you up and it just made me start thinking about us." Masamune said. "I want to marry you, Ritsu. I want that more than anything in the world and honestly I want to do it soon. The only thing that could make me happier than waking up next to you is waking up next to you as your husband." Masamune paused briefly before he spoke again. "But, unless we're going to have some sort of secret ceremony...I need to meet your parents."

'A secret ceremony wouldn't be too bad, would it?' Ritsu thought. It sounded like a great idea! He was in no way, shape or form prepared for Masamune to meet his parents! Oh God, Ritsu felt like he was forgetting how to breathe.

"Hey." Masamune recognized that panicked expression, reaching out to hold his hand tightly. "It doesn't have to be today, tomorrow, or this week. It doesn't even have to be this month. And you have to remember that you're not alone in this. We're gonna get through this together."

Ritsu took a deep breath and nodded. As terrified as he was, he knew Masamune was right. His parents were constantly asking to visit his new apartment, his mother was still trying to set him up with women, and Ritsu wanted to take the next step in his relationship with Masamune. None of that would be resolved until Masamune met them.

"Okay...so, what's the plan? For when you meet them."

"I'll dazzle them with my charm, of course. Your dad will be begging to give me his blessing to marry you."

Ritsu laughed, making Masamune smile. "And if you somehow don't dazzle them and this blows up in our faces?"

"Impossible."

"I'm serious, Masamune...they could disown me." Ritsu's smile was gone now.

"I know. And if that happens, there isn't really anything we can do about it. But, in the end it's their loss and I think they'd eventually realize that." Masamune said.

"And if they don't?"

"I'm not gonna lie or try to sugarcoat it, it'll fucking suck. It'll hurt. You'll feel betrayed and abandoned and angry, but you won't feel like that forever. Trust me when I say you eventually stop caring about your shitty parents."

Ritsu took another breath and squeezed Masamune hand. "I'm visiting them for dinner next week. Come with me."

"You're sure you'll be ready by then?"

"I'll be scared, but...I want to marry you, Masamune. I've wanted to since I was a kid and I don't want to wait much longer."

Masamune couldn't help but to smile. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Once they were finished breakfast, Masamune insisted on cleaning even though he had cooked.

'If he does this too often I'll get spoiled.' Ritsu thought as he went back into his room to grab his phone. He went to 'missed calls' and dialed his mother back.

"Good morning, mom." He greeted when she picked up. He spoke quickly before she could go off on some tangent about some 'lovely young lady' she'd recently met. "About dinner next week...there's someone I'd like you to meet."

#onodera ritsu #sekaiichi hatsukoi #takano masamune #sihjrweek

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here4theheartbreak · 4 years

Text

Crowded Busses & Sleepy Bunnies (NamKook)

AO3 Link Here!

✩ Relationships: Jeon Jungkook x Kim Namjoon (Namkook ✩ Genre(s): Fluff

✩ Rating: General ✩ Tags: fluff, getting together, Halloween costumes ✩ Summary: Namjoon hates Halloween. But that opinion might change when that very holiday changes his life.

✩ Word Count: ~3.2k ✩ A/N: Fulfills the square ‘Scary Masks’ for @btsholidaybingo

Halloween was the worst holiday in the world. Namjoon had outgrown the begging for candy relatively quickly, and parties had never been his thing. He was just awkward enough to make them unpleasant, and once his friends had all found their partners, it was even worse. He couldn’t even rely on them to save him from the awkwardness; he was just the third or fifth wheel.

All told, knowing that, it shouldn’t have been surprising to Namjoon that he’d forgotten it was Halloween. But he’d been working late and hadn’t thought to check his phone. So, when he got on the bus to go home at nearly midnight and found it full of people in costumes, he was surprised to say the least.

Namjoon pushed his way through the piles of drunk partygoers, finally snagging a seat on a crowded bench as the bus began to move. He hugged his bag to his chest, pulling his phone out to attempt to maneuver his headphones into his ears. Every time he moved though, the bus jostled, or the people did, sending his belongings – and his body – nearly flying into one of the many individuals attempting to stay upright around him.

He huffed and crammed his phone back into his bag, opting instead to people watch. Creature watch was more like it tonight. To his right was a witch with a long green nose wrapped in the arms of her sumo wrestler boyfriend. Namjoon hoped it was a boyfriend with the way he was biting the green paint right off her neck.

A vampire with crooked teeth was tucked into the corner of the bench on the opposite side of the bus, his eyes red rimmed from either alcohol or tears. A handful of Spidermen were scattered throughout the bus, and one Anpanman; hope nobody needed a crime fighter tonight. At the front of the bus was a morbidly obese pirate, and nearby him was a scantily clad police officer. Closest to Namjoon were clearly another couple; a sweet looking bunny with a stunning carrot sitting on his lap.

Namjoon dropped his head back against the window, sighing. This was going to be a long ride. Namjoon normally didn’t mind the length of the bus ride from his office to his apartment. He was nearly the last stop. It gave him time to decompress and relax before he reached his home, making it a truly relaxing and safe space for him.

He would certainly need a relaxing space after this ride. Much to his relief, people began to filter off the bus as it drove through the city, allowing Namjoon slowly more breathing room. He was finally able to pull out his cell phone, popping in one earbud as he finally responded to his his friend’s text messages.

Namjoon barely registered the male figure plopping down next to him. He glanced over, seeing a horrifying rabbit rather than a human face. The mask was startlingly realistic; as realistic as Namjoon supposed a fake creature could be. It had long, soft looking white furry ears, splattered with what looked blood and bits of flesh. Namjoon took a longer peek, seeing dark red eyes. The mouth was opened to reveal rows of sharp teeth with the comical two front bunny teeth, splattered with blood and gore across its mouth area. The boy wore a plain long sleeved white shirt covered in bloodstains and a pair of white jeans in a similar state. He had on fuzzy white bunny paw gloves. Namjoon wondered what sort of person would think it was funny to dress in such a way for a Halloween costume. Surely someone demented, right? He tried not to let it bother him, facing forward again.

It was difficult not to notice, however, when the boy’s head fell to the side, resting on Namjoon’s shoulder. He tensed, unsure what to do. The boy’s head was heavy, his body lax on the seat, he was most definitely sleeping. What were Namjoon’s options? He could shove the kid off him, he was sure, but the person next to the boy looked far less friendly. He could move, but then the boy would fall and potentially hurt his head. Namjoon glanced at his phone. Only another ten or so stops, he figured. And the boy would surely wake up when it was his stop. Not so bad, he could be a pillow for a sleepy kid for that long, right?

So Namjoon didn’t move. The boy leaned more against him, and Namjoon could feel firm arm muscles under the thin shirt the boy wore. He wondered how old he was. He looked too big to be a child, but only someone young would pick a costume like that, right? Namjoon supposed he was young himself, but he’d never wear something so horrifying. Though – he wasn’t exactly a normal person in regards to that sort of thing.

His mind wandered as the stops went past, the warm body of the boy on his shoulder soothing in a way Namjoon hadn’t expected. He was so tired of being alone. He wondered what it would be like to be dating someone, have them doze like this on him, while watching a movie or heading on the bus home from some fun night out. He envied his friends and their partners in a way. He hoped, maybe someday, he could get his head out of his work and pursue that happiness he longed for. But that was far off, he knew. Right now he needed to focus on his career. Sure, if something fell into his lap he’d pay attention – he wasn’t blind – but he couldn’t take the time to seek out a lover at this point in his life.

The bunny boy shifted, his hand falling onto Namjoon’s thigh. Namjoon chuckled a little, saying nothing. Boy must be tired. The robotic bus voice echoed another stop upcoming, and the bunny boy jerked up.

“Did they say Mokdongseo-Ro?” He asked, his voice muffled by the rabbit mask. Namjoon nodded.

“Yeah, he just called it.”

“Crap.” The boy yanked the cord at the last second and the bus jerked to a stop. The boy was thrown almost into Namjoon’s lap, apologizing repeatedly.

Namjoon laughed and shook his head. “No problem.” He watched as the boy rose and rushed over to the door of the bus. Namjoon chuckled a little, noticing a little fluffy white tail attached to the back of the boy’s jeans. He sighed when the bus began to move, shifting over to set his bag in the spot the boy had abandoned.

“Oh—” A beat up brown wallet sat in the seat. The boy must have dropped it in his rush to get off the bus. Namjoon scooped it up, chewing his lip. He could leave it, he supposed. But that didn’t feel right. The boy sounded relatively young, and there could be something important in that wallet. Without thinking on it too long, Namjoon scooped it up and dropped it into his backpack. He sat back, watching the street as it neared his stop.

Namjoon showered and fell into bed almost at once when he got home the bunny boy’s wallet momentarily forgotten.

The next morning, Namjoon puttered around, readying himself for the day. He didn’t need to go into the office this weekend, much to his relief, so he was able to take some time to himself before digging into his work. A bit of time watering and tending to his bonsais and other plants, checking his personal email and responding to friends from various parts of the world, checking his newsfeed and picking out certain news articles to enjoy as he ate his breakfast. A brisk walk, he decided, was desperately needed. The morning was beautiful and the perfect temperature as he wandered through the quiet street his apartment building was on. He reluctantly returned home after nearly forty minutes of walking, opening his backpack to pull out the work he’d brought home with him.

The bunny boy’s wallet fell out with his papers, and the memories from the night before came rushing back. He picked it up, tapping it on his palm for a moment. He felt guilty going through someone else’s belongings, but he had to figure out who the kid was to return it. His mask getup wouldn’t be helpful today. Sighing, Namjoon opened the wallet. A handful of cards, Namjoon flipped past them until he reached the boy’s ID. Namjoon gasped. He knew the bunny boy!

There was a coffee shop just a few miles from his house that Namjoon always stopped at on his way to work. Partly because the coffee was amazing. Mostly because the barista was the most beautiful man that Namjoon had ever laid eyes on. He only knew the boy by JK, but every time he went in the boy greeted him happily, never having a bad day, it seemed. Namjoon had spent more than a few minutes daydreaming about what it would be like to share a kiss with him, hold his hand, and

more. And here he was, holding onto JK’s wallet. Jeon Jungkook. Aged twenty-two. Not too far from Namjoon’s age, really. A September baby too. Oh and—

Namjoon snapped the wallet shut. He’d just opened it to get the boy’s name and potential address to return it. Not snoop at his entire life history – cute barista or not. Namjoon tossed the wallet onto the table, straightening out his papers to begin his work. As he did, his eyes continued to drift over to the beat-up wallet on the table.

Yoongi would call it fate, Namjoon was sure. He could go for a coffee… And he was sure the boy was worried about his wallet. Did he work on Saturdays? Namjoon wasn’t sure – he’d never been in the shop on a Saturday. Only one way to find out.

Namjoon rose and swept his work papers and computer back into his backpack, adding the wallet to the pile. He might as well get some work done at the shop after returning the wallet. He pulled his sneakers back on and headed out to catch the bus.

The coffee shop was busier than Namjoon was used to it being. A nice day, he supposed. He stepped in, peeking around the line of people. There he was. No sign of his horrific mask from the night before, Jungkook was smiling brightly as he worked. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal a peek of a tattoo sleeve, his shaggy black hair tied back in a messy bun as he took the order from the elderly woman at the counter. And that grin. The only sign of his mask was the bunny like grin he gave when he nodded to the customer and turned to pass the order off to an older boy working with him.

Good, Namjoon could return the wallet and that would be that. He sighed, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. What if the boy – Jungkook – thought he stole it? Surely he’d understand when Namjoon explained. But what if he didn’t? Namjoon chewed his bottom lip, worries filling his mind. Maybe he should just drop it off at the nearby counter. Jungkook would find it, and he’d escape without being wrongly accused. But what if someone else found it? What if it got lost forever? No – he had to give it to someone. Should he just say he found it on the floor? Surely Jungkook would have realized his wallet was missing the night before, that wouldn’t work.

Namjoon continued to worry himself into a frenzy, unable to make a final decision even as only one person stood between him and Jungkook. Finally, it was his turn.

Jungkook beamed at him. “Morning.”

“M—Morning,” Namjoon stumbled over his words.

Jungkook tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing. “You’re a regular here, huh?”

“Yeah, most weekdays.”

“Thought you looked familiar. What can I get you?” “Uh—” Namjoon froze. “Oh just—iced Americano today, please.”

“Sure.” Jungkook grinned. He glanced back. “Slowed down, Jin-hyung, you can take your break.”

“Thanks, JK.” The one he called Jin clapped him on the back and headed out one of the doors.

“Busy weekend, huh?”

“They usually are,” Jungkook said as he made the coffee Namjoon had requested.

“Do you always work?” Namjoon asked. “I mean I just—I see you every day I’m in here.”

“Yeah, my best friend owns the place.” He jutted his thumb at the door Jin had exited. “Really he’d be sunk without me,” Jungkook teased, laughing. Namjoon laughed as well, nodding.

“You’re very good at what you do.”

“Well thanks.” Jungkook placed the cup in front of Namjoon and quoted the price.

Namjoon reached into his bag, grabbing his wallet, and spotting Jungkook’s.

“Uh… Actually…” He pulled out his wallet, handing over his card.

“What?” Jungkook asked as he ran it. “Well, I—Um. Bloody bunny?” He asked.

Jungkook tilted his head. He passed the card back to Namjoon.

“I’m sorry?”

“Uh—” Namjoon reached into his bag, pulling out Jungkook’s wallet. “You left it. On the bus. Mokdongseo-Ro. You—I promise I didn’t steal it, it must have fallen out when you got up.”

Jungkook gasped, grabbing the wallet from Namjoon’s hand. “Oh my God, thank you,” he stressed. “I’ve been worried sick that I lost this, I’m so forgetful.” He bowed so low his head nearly smacked the counter. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Namjoon laughed a little. “I figured after your nap you were groggy, so…”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He covered his mouth with his hand. “It was you. I fell asleep—Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.” He put his hands over his face.

“Why?”

“A giant gory bunny falls asleep on a handsome guy’s shoulder and then he has to come out all this way on a weekend to return my wallet, I’m such a dope.”

“Handsome, eh?” Namjoon teased, his heart skipping a beat at the phrase.

Jungkook made a small, distressed noise, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. That was weird.”

“I’ve never been called handsome before. Especially not by a cute bunny.”

Jungkook’s face was positively glowing. Namjoon’s heart was thudding out of his chest; he was awful at flirting, what was he doing?

“Cute?” Jungkook said softly. “I didn’t just totally offend you and freak you out?”

“No, your terrifying mask did a good job of that last night. I far prefer the face under it.” Namjoon smirked when Jungkook’s shy smile reappeared.

Namjoon grabbed his card and coffee.

“Uh—Let me pay you back,” Jungkook stuttered.

“What do you mean?”

“F—For the wallet and… Scaring you.”

Namjoon bit his lip. He could say no. He wasn’t looking for someone right now… But he’d be a damn idiot to turn Jungkook down.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Ah, well… I’m really bad at this,” Jungkook admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. The bell on the door dinged, signaling a new customer.

“How about this,” Namjoon said. “I’m gonna go sit over there by the window and work. I’ll be there a while. When you decide… Come by.”

Jungkook smiled broadly, clearly relieved, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Namjoon went over to the spot he’d said, taking a seat and sipping the coffee. Perfect as always. He began to work, letting himself get lost in his job as he did.

He barely noticed when a fresh coffee was plopped in front of him. “On the house.”

Namjoon looked up, grinning at Jungkook. “Don’t need to do that.”

“My pleasure. Jin-hyung allows us all to have a free coffee on our shift, but I’m not a fan, so… You can have mine.”

“Well thank you. Are you off?”

“Just on break, but I was thinking about paying you back.”

“The coffee isn’t doing that?”

Jungkook shook his head, taking a seat across from Namjoon. “You said I was cute,” he said softly.

“You are.”

“I’m… Are you—” He sighed softly, clearly struggling.

“Are you trying to ask if I’m gay?”

Jungkook squeaked softly, glancing around.

“Are you in the closet?” Namjoon worried, lowering his voice.

“Not exactly, but I don’t talk about it to anyone. You know how people can be here. I’m out with my friends and stuff.”

“Of course. The answer is yes, I’m into guys. I don’t know what label I am, but, yeah. If you’re asking if that cute was a flirtation – it was.”

“Good,” Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “Because the handsome was too… Do you wanna go out with me?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Yes I do. I… Sorta peeked at the receipt when you walked away. Kim Namjoon-ssi.”

“Hyung is fine. Where do you have in mind for a date?”

“Is that a yes?” Jungkook asked, biting his bottom lip.

“Might be.” Namjoon tried to keep his voice steady, when in reality he was ready to jump for joy. A date. With someone as cute as Jungkook.

“Well, my friend was supposed to do Everland with me today. And I was going to go alone because they got a better offer from a girl. But I don’t want to go alone, not if I have someone really handsome to go with… I—” Jungkook shrugged.

“Isn’t Everland doing a Halloween thing still?”

Jungkook nodded. “I love this season.”

“I don’t,” Namjoon admitted. Jungkook pouted. He actually pouted. Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat.

“You don’t? But it’s so fun. Especially with friends. Come on, you’ll have fun. We don’t even need a costume, it’s just like a theme park but scary. And I have passes, I’ll pay for any other rides we wanna do that don’t come with the pass.”

Namjoon bit his lip. “When you do wanna go?” He asked. Jungkook beamed.

“I get off at three, I was gonna head there around four. The best stuff happens after seven anyway, but there’s some fun haunted houses and rides for earlier in the day.”

Namjoon nodded. “Fine. How do you wanna go?”

“Well, I have to go home and change, so we could meet at the park if you wanted to eat there, or pick a spot nearby if you wanna eat outside the park.”

“We can eat outside the park, I know there’s a little food cart area nearby, do you know it?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Let’s meet there. Here.” Namjoon pulled out a pet and tore off a piece of paper. He wrote his phone number down and passed it to Jungkook. “Text me when you’re there, or call me, I’ll plan to get there around four-thirty. I’ll buy dinner since you’re covering the passes and rides.”

Jungkook took the paper and tucked it into his pocket. “Deal. I won’t lose my wallet this time either.”

“And no scary bunny mask. This bunny smile is far cuter.” Namjoon reached out, stroking Jungkook’s cheek. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he laughed.

“You’re a flirt.”

“Not often,” Namjoon admitted. “Thanks for the coffee, Jungkook… I’ll see you this afternoon?”

Jungkook nodded, rising with Namjoon. He glanced around the mostly empty shop.

“I’m gonna do something really rash, okay?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Jungkook went forward and kissed the corner of Namjoon’s mouth. “Thanks for returning my wallet. And… For letting me sleep on you.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, surprised by the brashness of his new suitor. He grinned dumbly, watching Jungkook rush back to the counter to take the order of the customer there.

He wasn’t looking for a lover, he’d said. But who was he to turn away fate? Especially when it came in the form of the cutest bunny boy falling asleep on his shoulder?

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #thebtswritersclub #boymeetsmxm #networkbangtan #namkook #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanidx #bangtanhq #bangtanxm #kwritersworldnet #namjoon x jungkook #jungkook x namjoon #rm x jungkook #jungkook x rm #fluff #btsholidaybingo

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currywaifu · 4 years

Text

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: three words 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: minagi tsuzuru/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.4k words

𝐚𝐧: In this house we love Tsuzuru, always~ This one’s shorter than what I’d usually write but even so I hope you enjoy! To my fellow Clockwork rankers make sure to get some well deserved rest soon!

You could say with utmost certainty that Minagi Tsuzuru was the perfect boyfriend. As a man he’s hard-working and capable of many things, as a friend he was considerate, kind, and protective; as a boyfriend, he managed to deliver all of those things and more.

Him being attractive didn’t hurt either.

A gentle squeeze on your left hand took you out of your thoughts, but you couldn’t be bothered to focus on your surroundings with Tsuzuru still beside you.

“We’re here already, huh,” you tried not to sound disappointed at the sight of the familiar dormitory, but you must have slipped up somewhere based on the way Tsuzuru looked at you.

“Pfft, we’ll see each other again on campus next week,” he laughed, turning to face you completely as his unoccupied hand found its way to yours.

“I’m sad our date ended so soon, though,” you replied, looking into his eyes as you swung your arms together, “I just wish we got to spend more time together. I really had fun today.”

His eyes softened, fingers locked more tightly with your own. “I enjoyed today, too.” Silence took over the conversation, and while it wasn’t uncomfortable per se it was clear to you something was missing. Filling in the awkward gap, you leaned in to peck him on the cheek.

That seemed to do the trick— no matter how many times you’ve kissed him the pinpricks of red still appear on his cheeks. You don’t bother stifling your laughter, slowly unclasping your hands as you step backward.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?” With only your fingertips left touching, you reluctantly let go, already upset at the loss of his warmth. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said quietly, offering up one last smile as he watched you disappear into the building.

As soon as you entered your room you quickly threw yourself onto your bed, groaning in frustration as your face plants itself onto a pillow. Really, practically everything was perfect with Tsuzuru, but lately, you’ve found yourself wanting more.

From the texts exchanged on a daily basis, to the time spent going over his scripts together, to the deep conversations at night going on for hours— you weren’t so dense or insensitive to not realise that his actions reflected the same feelings you have for him.

Actions did speak louder than words,

but somehow, that wasn’t enough.

It slowly ate you up on the inside, from midday daydreams to late-night thoughts on your desire to have him say those three words. Were you making a big deal out of nothing? Was it simply too soon in your relationship? Was it selfish of you to feel so upset?

You flipped around, now lying on your back as you stared at the white nothingness of the ceiling. As the questions continued to float around you shut your eyes tight, willing them to leave your mind.

A buzzing sound coming from nearby rendered you awake, and with sleepy eyes, you gave your bed a pat-down to find the misplaced device. It didn’t take long, your hand coming in contact with a familiar shaky motion.

One look at the caller ID had you smiling instantly. Despite the emotional wreck, you were a while ago, talking with Tsuzuru made those doubts and insecurities vanish. Without a second to spare for hesitance you quickly answered the call.

“Good afternoon,” you greeted, a yawn soon following your words. “Sorry, were you trying to call for a while now?”

Tsuzuru audibly sighed, and for a moment you could almost imagine him rubbing his temples. “A few minutes. Also, it’s technically evening now, actually- did you fall asleep?”

You sat up, hand reached out to pull away your curtains. True to Tsuzuru’s word, the window framed what made for a beautiful painting— an ombre of crimson, orange, and gold as the sun hid from the moon once more.

“I guess I didn’t realise how exhausted I was until I got home,” you said with amusement, “have you seen the sunset today?”

He hummed, your ears picking up on the subaudible crinkling of a paper bag. “I had to run an errand, so I’m walking home just now.”

You continued watching the resplendent sky. It brought you comfort, knowing that he was watching the same sight as you were. Soaking in the peaceful glow, your previous worries began to wash away. You could always just…

“The sunset’s especially beautiful today,” you said, voice less raspy from your slumber but still soft-spoken. “It’d be nice to watch the sunset together sometime.”

“Okay… we’re doing that now, aren’t we?” He chuckled as soon as he heard you huff. You resisted the urge to retort, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him back.

“The sunrise would be nice too… shouldn’t be that hard with how often you stay up, right?”

Tsuzuru scoffed. “For me? Oh, sure… if you fall asleep before it happens don’t blame me for not waking you up, okay?”

You snorted, wondering if he’d be able to hear the grin on your face somehow.

The two of you entered quietude again, everything still save for the background noise from Tsuzuru’s side of the call. For being only two or three hours apart, the vibe was somewhat different to the same silence as before.

“Tsuzuru?” you waited for his response with bated breath, gathering up all the courage possibly contained in your body. It was a lot harder than you expected— the indecisiveness of how to go about saying it; the uncertainty of his response.

“Yeah? Is something wrong?” Your heart fluttered; he sounded a bit worried all of a sudden, even though nothing in your conversation could have possibly hinted at anything off.

“It’s nothing,” you trailed off for a moment, letting out a shaky breath.

To push through with it or not? If it was too soon, it would make things a bit awkward for a few days; if it wasn’t, then-

“Tsuzuru,” you interrupted whatever he was going to say, resolving your fears and doubts. “I love you.”

Tsuzuru’s breath hitched, yet he didn’t say anything. Seconds pass and you found yourself growing more and more anxious, until the line dropped.

What the fuck?

You dropped down on the bed again, unsure if you were more shocked or frustrated. You just told him you loved him for the first time and he dips? Sure, you understood the possibility of him not responding in kind, or telling you it was too soon— definitely not hanging up on you.

You probably should have said it in person because he wouldn’t be able to escape then.

Minutes pass of you trying to wrap your head around the whole situation, completely and utterly silent until you heard the rapid-fire rapping on your door. You sighed, dragging yourself up and preparing to berate whichever dorm mate of yours was making so much noise.

Instead, you were greeted by Tsuzuru, flushed to the roots of his hair and out of breath. Even though you were still frustrated with him for leaving the call with no explanation, you were still concerned by his sudden appearance.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, letting your annoyance s into your tone. “You can’t just hang up and then-“

“I’m sorry,” he panted out, hastily setting aside his things. “I just had to see you immediately.”

He whispered your name softly, present with more adoration and awe than you’ve ever heard your name pronounced before.

“I was nervous about saying anything. I thought it might have been too soon, I didn’t want to freak you out. Instead, I hurt you in the process.” He stepped inside your room hesitantly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or angry. When you don’t push him away, he takes one of your hands, holding onto it lightly as though you were fragile.

“I love you,” Tsuzuru said, confidently as though he had never been more sure of something in his life. “I love you more than words could say.”

Your shoulders shook, body quivering slightly as you held back the overflow of emotions you felt. All the anger and insecurity and doubt trickled out of your system until only your affection for Tsuzuru remained.

“Could you say it again? I’d like to hear it in person this time.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you, Tsuzuru.”

Pulling you by the hand he wrapped his arms around you tightly, he replied, “I’m in love with you, too.”

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You were sitting in the library, plunking away on your laptop, searching for a case. After a couple of hours, you still hadn't found anything, but your stomach was growling from hunger. You went to the fridge to survey its contents. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but Dean's last slice of pie, which you knew better than to touch, Sam's last yogurt and a few slices of moldy bread. Ugh, time to go on a supply run, you thought.

Dean was in the garage, tinkering with the Impala again. You let him know that you were running into town for some groceries, given the current state of the fridge. To your surprise, he asked you to wait while he washed his hands, because he wanted to go with you.

"Seriously, Dean? You never want to go on a grocery run, you just holler and tell me not to forget the pie. What gives?" you asked.

"Nothing 'gives', I'm just tired of being cooped up in the bunker. Besides, it gives me a chance to spend time with my best friend, on the highway, jamming to some tunes," he smirked.

"Fine, let's go," you relented. Best friend. That's how he sees you, but you see him as something more. You've had a crush on Dean for quite some time. It's been that way ever since Bobby sent you to assist the boys on that vampire hunt all those years ago.

Dean Winchester. His sexy green eyes, sharp yet usually stubbled jawline, perfectly kissable lips were what haunted your dreams every night. For you, though, it went beyond the physical. He was smart, kind, strong, tender and had a kick-ass sense of humor. He was highly protective of those most important to him, yourself included.

When you were with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, the only person. Problem was, that feeling was experienced by the countless women from the bar scene who happened to catch his eye. Judging by what walked out of his room the morning after, you knew you didn't measure up. For the moment, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind and focused on buying food for the bunker.

About an hour later, you and Dean returned from the store and hauled everything to the kitchen. Sam joined you shortly thereafter to help put things away. He told you and Dean that Sheriff Donna Hanscum had called while you were out. She asked you to call her back when you got home from getting supplies.

While you were putting things away, you called Donna back, putting her on speakerphone. "Hey there, Sheriff D, what have you got going on up there? How can we help?" you asked.

She went on to explain about crazy things happening in one particular house in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Lights flashing, hearing something scratching within the walls, beds shaking and flying objects.

You looked at Sam and Dean to see what they thought it might be. "We think it might be a poltergeist," you remarked. "We're on our way up to see you and then we can interview some witnesses. Over and out, chickie," you said as you ended the call.

Thirty minutes later and you were in the back seat of the Impala, headed up the highway to see Donna. Every so often, your eyes would wander to Dean as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music. Occasionally, his eyes would flick to yours in the rearview mirror, but by that time, you had dropped your gaze.

You had opened your book to start reading, when you heard Dean talking about what he was going to do post-hunt. "Since we'll be in the area, I'm going to head out to that little dive bar on the edge of town. Good music, good brews and hot chicks. Awesome combo, wouldn't you say, Sammy?" he asked.

Sam was so absorbed in his research that he hadn't heard Dean at first, but you had heard him. "Hmm? What? What'd you say, Dean?" he replied.

"Never mind," Dean muttered. His eyes drifted to you in the back seat. He saw you staring out the window, arms folded across your chest, your book open, but forgotten for the moment. For a brief second, Dean thought he saw a tear coursing down your cheek, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He furrowed his brow to think that you may be upset about something. "You okay back there?" he asked you.

"I'm fine," you responded softly. You replaced your bookmark and snapped your book shut. You returned your attention to the scenery zipping by. After a while, your eyelids drifted closed, your light snores filling the quiet of the back seat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean looked back at you through the rearview mirror. He could tell by the gentle rise and fall of your chest that you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed, which he didn't see very often. You were always so busy taking care of things in the bunker for them, in addition to hunting. You barely had any time to yourself, what with research, laundry and keeping the boys well-fed.

When you did get a moment to do what you wanted, you usually ended up falling asleep in your book or to something on Netflix. Then he or Sam would prod you awake long enough for you to drag yourself to your room and fall back to sleep.

He took another look at you in the backseat. Your full, pink lips looked so cute, especially when they got all scrunched up as you research through the lore books. Your honey-and-green eyes seemed to sparkle when you found some obscure fact that helped to crack the case. He glanced down at your strong, yet delicate hands folded across your chest. He imagined what it would feel like to have them running over his body. That particular thought made Dean shift uncomfortably in his seat a little.

The Impala eased into a parking space in front of the Redstone Motel. Dean asked Sam to go get a room, while he tried to wake you up from your peaceful nap. He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. Suddenly, you stirred and as you turned your head, your lips brushed the back of his hand. This small action sent an electric shock to his system at the point of contact. Dean tried again to wake you by gently nudging your shoulder, and your eyelids fluttered open. "Hey," you said as you stretched and gave him a halfway-still-sleepy smile.

Dean chuckled. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Sam's getting us a room, then we'll have to change into our Fed suits to go meet with Donna," he explained. As if on cue, Sam returned to the car and told Dean which room you all would be in.

You got out of the Impala and retrieved your bag from the trunk. "They only had one room left, with two queen beds and a couch," Sam explained as you all walked into the room.

"Oh. I guess I'll take the couch then," you volunteered, a little disappointed at not having your own space. You went into the bathroom to get dressed in your Fed get-up. The outfit consisted of a white, button-down blouse, a navy blue pinstriped pencil skirt and black high heels. You ran your fingers through your hair, shaking it out, trying to add some fluff to it. A swipe of mascara, some lip gloss and you were good to go.

You looked over at Dean, who was having some trouble fixing his tie. "Here, let me help," you said as you took over. A swoop here, a tuck there and you cinched his tie in place around his neck. Being this close to Dean, you could smell his aftershave. It was so intoxicating, that you had to blink several times to keep your focus on fixing his tie. You nervously cleared your throat. "There. All better now," you teased.

Dean reached up with his hands to clasp yours and gently brushed his lips against them. "Thank you," he whispered. As you turned to get your FBI ID badge, Dean couldn't help but think of how sexy you looked, even if it was your Fed threads. Whoa, where did that come from? he silently wondered.

"You're welcome," you mumbled. Blushing furiously, you gave him a quick smile, put your FBI badge in your pocket and headed back out to the Impala. What the hell was that?!? you asked yourself. One minute I'm helping him fix his tie, the next minute he's kissing my hand?? I'm so confused, you inwardly groaned. By the time you had finished your internal monologue, Sam and Dean had returned to the car, and you were on your way to see Donna.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the station, Donna briefed you on what was happening at the house. It was a man and his two children that lived in the house where all of the strange things were occurring. His name was George Anderson, his daughter, Hannah was about 10. The baby of the family, Andrew, was about 7 years old.

You watched the family through the one-way glass. George was sitting on the edge of his chair, while Hannah and Andrew were drawing pictures in the corner. Donna came up behind you as you observed the situation. "What do you think?" she asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"Not sure yet," you murmured. "Why don't you let me go in there and talk to them? By myself," you suggested as you locked eyes with Dean. Donna shrugged and agreed, then unlocked the door for you.

You introduced yourself to George, who warmly shook your hand. Hannah immediately jumped up and rushed to her father's side, looking ready to do battle on his behalf. You reached out your hand to her for a handshake, but she ignored it and glared at you before going back to her drawing. Andrew briefly looked up at you with his big, brown eyes and then returned to his crayons.

As you and George talked, it was more of a conversation than an interrogation. You tried to put him at ease by slipping in a couple of jokes. It seemed to work, as he was more willing to talk about what was going on in his house. George even came back with some jokes of his own that made you laugh. It made Dean more agitated, because it looked to him like you were flirting with George. Fortunately, Donna was keeping an eye on Dean, which let you do what you needed to do.

You stood up to leave, then shook George's hand again, and this time Hannah allowed you to shake her hand. Before you made it to the door, you felt a tug on your skirt. You looked down and saw Andrew handing you his drawing. You knelt down to his level and studied the picture he had drawn. It looked like he was telling you about everything the poltergeist was doing in the house.

All of a sudden, you felt a searing pain in your head and a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It almost knocked you over, but you were able to regain your composure. You tried to return the drawing to the young artist, but he pushed it back to you, eyes wide with fear. You nodded at him in understanding, caressing his cheek to soothe the young boy. "Thank you very much, Andrew. I think this will help us so that we can help your family," you said softly. You handed George your business card, and asked him to call you if anything more happened.

George and his children left the station, and you relayed your conversation to Donna and the boys. For some reason, you thought Dean looked a bit annoyed with you about something, but you had no idea what. You all agreed to keep working on the case to try and figure out how to get rid of the poltergeist. On that note, you, Sam and Dean walked back out to the Impala.

As soon as you reached the car, Dean took hold of your arm. "What the hell was going on in that room?" he demanded.

You looked down at his hand on your arm, so he released it. "What do you mean, I was talking to George, trying to figure out what was going on in his house. What did you think I was doing?" you shot back.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a bit of flirting going on? Laughing and telling jokes, cozying up to the kids. Why don't you just sleep with him and get it over with?" Dean retorted.

"DEAN!!" Sam yelled.

You reached up and slapped Dean across the face. "You jackass. How could you say something like that to me? Your so-called 'best friend'?? I was trying to gain his trust and that of his children. Something of mine that you're coming dangerously close to losing," you snapped. Tears threatening, you turned and stormed back into the station to ask Donna if you could bunk with her tonight.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded. "Why would you say that to her? You know how this works. What would you think if the situation was reversed and she came at you like that?" he asked.

Dean thought about it a minute. "I would think she was....Oh Chuck," he said softly. Dean looked over at his brother, who was smirking. "What, Sam? What?" he snapped.

"I knew it! You like her. You have feelings for her," Sam said in a sing-song voice.

Just then, you and Donna walked out from the station. Dean could see your eyes were all red and puffy, probably from crying. He tried to go over to talk to you, but Donna blocked his progress. "Not now, Dean. Talk to her later," she said forcefully.

"I just want to--" he started.

"I said not now, Dean. I'm going to take her back to your motel and get her bag. She's bunking with me tonight," Donna declared.

"We only have the one key, so we'll follow you and let her in," Dean said softly in defeat. Donna nodded, and you all took off for the motel.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the motel, Sam gave you the key to let yourself in to get your bag. Dean stayed in the car, his forehead leaning on the steering wheel. He was still trying to make sense out of what happened outside of the police station. He wanted so badly to apologize to you for his accusations, that he knew you were only doing your job.

Is Sam right? Do I have feelings for her? he asked himself. He thought back to everything that's happened since the job started. From seeing you asleep in the back seat, your lips brushing his hand when he tried to wake you up. To helping him with his tie, his lips brushing your hands, seeing you in the interview room with George and the kids....to that awful accusation.

Dean looked up when he heard the doors on Donna's cruiser close. At least she's safe for the night, he thought. Sam went into the room, leaving the door open for Dean. He got out of the Impala and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sam was in the shower by the time Dean came into the room.

When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was just staring off into space. After Sam got dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dean. "Look, Dean. I know you're upset about what happened earlier. Give her some time to cool off, it'll be fine. You'll apologize to her, and you'll go back to being best friends," he explained.

"That's just it, Sam. I don't know if I can go back to being just best friends. I think you were right. I was jealous of her and that guy. And she was so good with those kids, I just know she'd be an incredible mother. I wanted to be George, I want it to be our kids she's so good with," Dean finished.

At that moment, Sam's phone rang, with the display showing Donna was calling. "Hey, Donna, what's going on? Is everything okay?" he asked.

Donna frantically explained that while you and she were talking on the way to her place, that the pain in your head came back. This time, you had a vision of George and the kids. Objects were flying around, and when George tried to run with the kids to the front door, a lamp cord tripped him. He hit his head and was knocked unconscious. You could see the two terrified children crying, huddled together near their father, trying to get him to wake up.

You convinced her to do a drive-by to make sure everything was okay. The closer you got to George's house, the more intense the pain became in your head. That's how you knew something bad was going to happen, unless you took action. When you got there, you bolted out of Donna's cruiser before she could stop you.

"The front door opened for her, then it slammed shut. I tried to go in after her, but it was locked. She's trapped in there with that-that thing, those two babies and their father. Sam, Dean, you have to hurry, please!" she sounded close to tears.

"On our way, Donna," Dean affirmed, already in the car. Sam had his laptop open, reading some information about George's house. "Okay, here it is. The previous owner of the house was a man by the name of Lawrence O'Donnell, who died in 1913. There have been three or four other families that bought the house after he died. They all ended up selling the house when he started to terrorize them," Sam finished.

"Sounds like old Larry didn't want anyone to live in the house with him even after he was gone. So how do we kill it?" Dean asked.

"Salt and burn, just like normal. But we have to hurry. These are different than a run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit. Poltergeists don't care if they have the right person. They'll go after anyone and everyone," Sam finished.

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he mashed down on the accelerator. Sam continued to research until he found out where Mr. O'Donnell was buried. Finally he found it, and gave Dean directions on which cemetery to go to.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the house, you found a hiding place for the kids so they would be out of the way. Once that was done, you tended to George's head wound. The sleeve on your overshirt was torn a bit, so you ripped it off for a makeshift bandage. You told George just to stay there, that the kids were safe, but you were going to look around a little.

Your eyes started scanning the area, looking for hidden dangers. More power cords or some sharp object with the potential to fly across the room. You crawled towards the front door to see if you could open it and escape. Before you could put your hand on the knob, a vase came flying at you and you ducked just in time. It broke above your head, showering you with the broken pieces.

You shrank back to your previous position and felt in your back pocket for your phone. You managed to get connected to Donna and push the speakerphone button. But that victory was short-lived, as the phone was yanked out of your hand and went skittering across the floor.

The next thing you knew, you were flying across the room and being held in place on the opposite wall. You tried to move, but it was no use. A figure appeared in front of you, a man dressed in a Victorian-era suit and had a large handlebar mustache. His hands were inching towards you to grab your throat, when flames started to creep up and consume his body. His gut-wrenching screams filled the room, until he was completely gone.

You were no longer held to the wall, so you made your way over to the door to open it and let Donna in. She came rushing in and started to check you for injuries, but you waved her off and told her to check on George.

While the EMTs were assessing George's condition, you called for Hannah and Andrew to come out of hiding. You told them it was all over, and that their daddy was going to be okay. With tears in their eyes, they came running towards you and threw their arms around your neck. You held one in each arm, rubbing up and down their backs and whispering comforting words in their ears. You looked up and happened to catch George's eye, at which time he mouthed the words, "thank you".

The EMTs wheeled George out of the house, while Donna took one child in each hand and led them out to her car. You looked around the room, trying to come to grips with what happened here tonight. Silent tears streaked down your face as you realized just how wrong things could have gone. Among your last words to Dean were that he was a jackass and you had slapped him. If you somehow hadn't made it out alive tonight, you knew he would've blamed himself for all of it.

As if on cue, Dean burst through the front door, with Sam close behind. Dean rushed over to where you were standing, placed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. Without a word, he gathered you into his arms and held you close to his chest. It was then that you gave yourself permission to be comforted and sank into his embrace.

Tears flowed freely now, soaking his T-shirt. Dean kept a firm hold on you, whispering soothing words in your ear. He softly apologized over and over for what he'd said earlier outside of the police station. You drew back a little and placed a hand gently on his face where you had slapped him. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to try and soothe away the hurt. You also hoped he knew that you weren't angry with him anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you started. "I shouldn't have--" he cut you off.

"Shh, that doesn't matter right now. I'm just glad that you and everyone else is okay," he replied. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked. You nodded. He kept an arm around your waist as he guided you out of the house and over to the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Donna took care of things on her end, and the kids were reunited with their father. You all got cleaned up and decided to go to the bar to celebrate another successful hunt. You were gathered around the pool table in the back, with you and Donna playing against Sam and Dean. The first round of drinks went down pretty fast, so you volunteered to go and get the next round.

You gave your drink order to the bartender and paid, leaving a few dollars for his tip. As you stood waiting for your drinks, a man sitting next to you started a conversation. He introduced himself, and you reluctantly did the same.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he slurred.

You rolled your eyes at such a lame pick-up line. "I'm here with a group of friends, and really not interested. I just want my drinks, okay?" you explained.

"Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, you and me," he continued, this time stroking a finger down your arm.

"Listen. I tried to be nice about this, but here's the deal. Get your filthy hands off of me, leave me alone, or there's going to be a problem," you seethed. By this time, the bartender had made eye contact with Donna and silently signaled that you may need some help.

Dean came walking over and snaked his arm around your waist. "Hey there, sweetheart, what's taking so long?" he asked as he kissed your temple. The guy who had been hitting on you got up from his barstool and stumbled out into the night, mumbling under his breath.

"Thanks, Dean. I tried to tell that guy I wasn't interested, but he wasn't listening," you explained.

"Eh, all in a day's work," Dean replied. Sam and Donna had also come over to pick up their drinks and take them back to the pool table. For some reason, you and Dean kept hanging out at the bar for a bit.

"You know, you should be careful," you told him.

"About what?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"That stunt you just pulled, pretending to be my boyfriend? You've probably ruined your chances of taking one of these lovely ladies back to the motel with you," you replied.

"There's only one lovely lady I'm interested in taking back to the motel with me," he said huskily. His arm snaked back around your waist, as he traced your jawline with his index finger.

You placed your drink on top of the bar and abruptly broke free of his embrace. Dean called out after you, but you kept running towards the door, out of the bar and into the cool night air. When you got to the Impala, you stopped and leaned up against the driver's side door. You tried to catch your breath, while simultaneously trying to collect your thoughts.

Dean caught up with you and was moving in towards you again, but you put your hands up. "Wait, Dean. Just a minute," you said.

"I don't understand. What just happened back there?" he asked.

"Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one that doesn't understand," you answered. "First, I hear you talking to Sam about picking up chicks in the bar. Next, you kiss my hand after I'm done fixing your tie, then you get upset at how I handled the witnesses. You're killing me with these mixed signals, Dean!" you exclaimed.

On a softer note, you continued. "You and I have been best friends for a very long time. But, Dean I have to tell you something....I'm in love with you," you blurted out. "I love your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your--" Dean cut you off by closing the gap between you and crashing his lips against yours.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Sorry it took me almost too long to figure it out, but I'm so glad I did," Dean replied softly. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, moving hungrily as if your lips were his last meal. Then he grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, earning him a gasp of surprise from you.

"Dean?" you whispered as his lips trailed a series of kisses all over your neck. "Yeah, darlin'?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you think maybe Sam could stay at Donna's place tonight?" you asked. Dean stepped back to pull out his phone and sent Sam a quick text. "Done. Now where were we?" he grinned as he dipped his head to reclaim your mouth.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #spn imagines #spn fluff

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floatingpetals · 4 years

Text

Out of Water || Part 1

Pairings: Mer!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mer!Steve Rogers (Mermaid AU)

Warnings: maybe a little language, fluffy fluff, hint of smut,

Word Count: 1600+

Summary: Neither Steve nor Bucky could have known the horrors they had to face in order to make sure their mate was safe in their arms. Now that they were here, the two swore they were never going to lose it. They had their mate, their love and home, but in a world not their own. The climb was over but their shared journey was far from it.

A/N: First things first, you HAVE to read Edge of the Water to get anything that’s going to happen. This isn’t a stand-alone and needs to be read in order.

Now that's done, I just wanna thank @empyreanwritings for her wonderful donations on my ko-fi!! As a thank you, I’m starting her request for more of mer!stucky. No way was I going to deny her such a wonderful request! I hope you all like this series too. It’s not going to be nearly as long as the original either. I just have plans for a few cute little stories revolving around the three. Let me know what you all think!! Enjoy! ❤

*I will NOT be doing a tag list with this series. I think I’m going to be doing away with that considering the tags don’t actually work correctly half the time. You can follow my writing page that can be found in my header and set up notifications there.

Gif isn’t mine, credit to the creators. (@chickabiddy)

Part One | Part Two | Series Masterlist

Early morning sunlight filtered through the open sliding glass doors, warming the cool, quiet room and it’s occupants. The trio couple lay tangled together, the thin sheet covered them. Y/N was snuggled safely between her two mates, Steve and Bucky who were both bare as the day they stepped out of the machine holding her tight. The soft, silky sheets rubbed against the men’s lightly tanned skin, a change contrast to what they were accustomed too. It was still strange, waking to the feeling of cotton against skin instead of the cool water against their scales, but not unwelcome. The feeling meant something more to the two mer-turned-men that lay underneath them than for anyone else. It meant they did the impossible.

Steve inhaled deeply as he began to wake, the corner of his lips turning up into a sleepy grin. Even in his sleepy state, Steve knew how monumental this. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would ever get this, waking up with his arms tightly around his two mates. He could finally hold Y/N in her bed and not worry about his life draining from his body. Keeping his eye shut in content, he nuzzled his nose into Y/N’s neck. A happy sigh passed through his lips and he scooted his body tighter against Y/N’s body, desperate to press as much of his skin against her as he could.

The shuffle pulled Y/N from her sleep, warmth bubbling in her stomach when she felt Steve’s fingers begin to trace delicately against her skin. She hummed quietly and reached up to bury her fingers in his hair, gently tugging at the short freshly new cut. She too knew how special this was, and every morning since she’s sent a silent thank you to whoever was up there watching over her.

It had been over two months since their first change. Tony and Maria had been incredibly accommodating, knowing that it would take the two mers a while to get used to their legs fully. They gave them a room on Tony’s hidden island, with a deck that led out to the water so they could change back to their mer bodies anytime they wanted. Maria was there to help their transition and even introduced them to a few others that had gone through the serum. Having them there made this easier, both Steve and Bucky needing that extra support. Even though they’d never admit aloud, Y/N knew this was hard for them.

There were growing pains that came along with it, even muscle pain they’ve never had before and some days the two were just sapped of energy. The transition always hurt, but Maria promised it would grow less over time. Tony swore he’d find a way to make so that the pain was no longer part of the shift. There was always a pang of distraught that would shoot through Y’N’s heart when she’d see the two of them in such pain, but they never hesitate to soothe her fears. This was what they wanted. Home was wherever she was and no about of discomfort would hold them back from being by her side.

“I can hear you thinking.” Steve murmured softly against her neck. Y/N giggled.

“It’s not like I’m trying to keep it to myself.” She mused. Steve snorted and pressed a tender kiss against her neck. He slid his left arm out from under her and used it to prop his head up, letting him stare down at Y/N while keeping his right tightly around her and Bucky. She scrunched her nose as he shuffled, the bed shifting slightly under his weight. She didn’t have to worry though. Bucky, who was always the heaviest sleeper of the three, snored on with a tiny smile on his lips.

“What’s got your mind goin’ so early?” Steve asked. Y/N shrugged and blinked up at Steve. He still managed to take her breath away every day, and this morning was no different with the soft drowsy look in his eyes. The light hit his eyes just right they shone the same blue as the ocean he was born from, his face relaxed and content.

“Just thinking about you two and how everything’s so different now.”

“Good different, I hope?” Steve tilted his head. Y/N cracked a grin and nodded.

“Very good.” She soothed. Steve fell quiet, letting the sound of the waves filter through the doors. Y/N didn’t find his sudden drop in the conversation odd, he was always the quiet thinker of the two mers. Instead, she nestled further into the sheets and turned to press her cheek against Bucky’s chest. The other’s chest rumbled at the contact and his arm instinctually tightened around her waist.

It had become routine. Steve would wake first to watch over Y/N and Bucky for a few peaceful moments before Y/N slowly woke too. The two would lay awake, whether in a blissful silence to just enjoy each other’s company or talk softly about their plans for the day before Bucky would gradually wake. But every morning all ended the same. Both mers would hold Y/N tight and smile widely to each other, their hearts happy and full. This morning would be no different.

“Tony needs us to get your passports and ID’s done sometime this morning.” Y/N spoke after a few minutes. Steve hummed and let his head fall back to the pillow.

“I know. Still don’t want to know how he’s going to make us legal humans,” Steve grumbled under his breath. Y/N snorted. She’d have to agree with him on that.

Tony had been nothing but a godsend, but some of his practices were interesting, to say the least. He had his finger in practically every seat of power, and Y/N was nervous to ask him exactly what it was that his father had done to create such a legacy. Yet so far, the man had done nothing to give her suspicion that he might be less than as clean that he makes himself out to be. All the ones he’s saved have done nothing but speak highly of him. They were safe and happy, truly the end goal Tony had for them all. Even the few scientists that work with him sang praises of the man. Y/N has just decided to come to terms with the fact there are aspects to Tony’s life she didn’t need to know.

One of the things he had been working on, another reason why they were still there on the little hidden island, was that he wanted to make sure they were comfortable in their bodies before producing IDs for Bucky and Steve. He wasn’t going to just throw them out there into the world, they’d never make it ten feet without an ID to get them around. Flying would be completely out of the picture if they wanted to go from country to country. Tony wanted to make sure they would be comfortable with their new lives and was doing every step down to the letter to make sure it would be so.

They had just gotten the all-clear for the physical therapist four days ago, and now Tony had all their information written up and ready to print. All he needed was them to get their pictures taken.

“If Tony can make a deliberate explosion pass as a fake accident and a real cause of death, I’m not going to argue with his methods of making you legal.” Y/N muttered. There was an answering grunt, but not from Steve.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about, but it’s too early for the speaking.” Bucky groused. Y/N felt Steve lift his head up before hearing him snort.

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

“Still too early.” Was the quick retort.

Y/N didn’t need to see Steve’s face to know he was rolling his eyes at Bucky.

“I’m not the one who insisted on that third-round last night,” Steve said, his tone light.

“You also didn’t argue about it either,” Bucky shot back and rubbed his eyes. Admitting defeat, he grumbled more under his breath while he rolled on to his back to stretch with a groan. He let his left arm flopped back on the bed and sighed overdramatically as he stared at the ceiling.

Y/N laughed fondly at his pout and cupped his cheek. She turned his face to hers and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Bucky perked up, and before she could pull away, he swooped in to press his lips against hers in a slow tender ‘good morning kiss.’ He didn’t let her go until he was sure she was a breathless puddle in his hands.

“Now kiss Steve so I can too.” He urged gently. Y/N didn’t bat an eyelash at his command and quickly turned to do just as he said.

One corner of Steve’s mouth was turned up in a crooked grin, a dash of smug content written across his features. Her easy acceptance didn’t go over his head and both Steve and Bucky made a mental note to test that theory out later. With a feather-light touch, he moved his lips against Y/N’s before claiming her mouth as his. She melted under his touch, her hand blindly reaching out to hold on to him. Her fingers curled around his shoulder, her thumb brushing against the thin lines that would be his gills.

In his human form, Steve had no need for them. They were just two thin black lines on either side of his neck. ‘Almost like a tattoo’ Maria had said once or twice before. His lungs worked like humans so they sealed shut during the shift. However, just because he didn’t need them, didn’t mean he could feel them. Y/N’s accidental touch sent delicious sparks down his spine, igniting that fire inside his stomach. He hissed at the contact and yanked his head back.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N gasped, her eyes flying open wide in horror, assuming the sound was one of pain. She knew they were still sensitive, even if he didn’t use them. “I didn’t mean to hurt-.”

Her voice was caught in her throat at the look on Steve’s face. He wasn’t the least bit upset, quite the opposite in fact. His pupils were blown open wide, and a feral grin had spread across his face. She felt Bucky’s muscles tighten behind her, the excitement rolling off him in waves. He knew that look too and was eager to follow through with the wicked plans Steve was already making.

A low purr came from Steve’s chest and the smirk grew.

“There’s been a slight change of plans.” He rasped before leaning forward to nip at the skin on her neck. His voice dropped an octave, the grin growing wider. “Tony’s going to have to wait.”

A shudder went down her spine when Steve latched on to her skin. A second mouth took up spot on the other side and Y/N’s eyes began to roll back in her head. The brief thought that they actually had things to do today was gone as quickly as it entered. Yeah, she thought to herself, this was a much better plan for their morning.

#stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fic #reader insert

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giurochedadomani · 3 years

Text

Fic-in-progress type of update that has gotten a tiny, little bit out of hand but I regret nothing and I really want to share it

I’m doing the third and final part of this.

When I do get to finish this I feel like it’ll work just fine as a one shot, but. Just to give you some context: this scene of the story takes place after a botched plan ends up with the son of a rival capo dead at the hands of? Leonardo? I never bothered to write out what exactly happened on That Fateful Night and now I’m taking 100% advantage of that.

The thing is, the other mafioso certainly blames him. When Primo manages to keep Leo out of jail by putting the blame of the murder on the son of the town’s mayor, their rival decides to take justice into his own hands, failing to consider how little Primo is likely to stop until he owns the city and ends with every kind of threat vaguely pointed in his direction, Leo’s or this family he has adopted himself into. Enter:

[Gioia Tauro, Saturday night]

Uhhhhh there are things I can tag for: mentions of abuse re: Primo’s childhood, discussions of murder and other Mob related stuff, but there are other things that I can’t really tag without spoiling away what happens, so I’m gonna highlight that this story is basically about a mob war and that violent stuff happens and use the handy ao3 sign of ‘Author decided not to display any warnings’

“Do you want me to tell you, or not?”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing quite well on your own”.

It comes off way drier than Leonardo means to, and the without me goes over them, unspoken. He bites the tip of his tongue and stands his ground and tries not to picture the hint of hurt that passes over Primo’s face as Leonardo goes through his business, picking up his suit’s jacket and the briefcase from the sofa as the other looks at him like some kind of gargoyle while he fusses through the office.

“A bomb. In his office”, Primo explains, slow, after a moment, blatantly ignoring him. “Next week, we’re aiming for Friday, although Fiore needs to tie up some loose ends”. A beat of silence. “I insisted on it being Friday. Less people in the building that day, like you said”. Leonardo won’t give in to Primo’s unsubtle attempts to win him over. “I was going to tell you”.

He gives the other a sharp look. What he means to be a sharp look, really. It’s kind of endearing that Primo cannot withstand a grand total of half a minute of silence treatment. No, Leonardo’s still pissed that he didn’t call him into the meeting.

“What loose ends?”, he asks, tone clipped.

“ID passes. He wants to get a couple of original ones”, rob some innocent cleaning lady of her own pass, more likely, Leonardo thinks, as if he were in some shape or form morally superior to that, “and just modify the photos, keeping it simple. He can’t do that a week earlier, it’d be...”, Primo trails off, looking at him with a tinge of—

It’d be less likely to call on any unwanted attention, that’s for sure. And truth be told, they’ve never been lucky with forgeries. It’s not as if they’re trying to enter the fucking Quirinale, and one would think that a sleepy guard on a Friday morning wouldn’t pay much attention to some cleaning staff’s passes, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little bit extra cautious: Romano has proven himself to be able to become quite the headache. And he can’t help feeling a little satisfied at how Primo is not diving head first into danger for once in his fucking life— no. He’s annoyed.

Leonardo hums, pensive. He locks the door of his office after they step outside, and speaks again once he finds another direction in which to funnel his irritation.

“What’s their story, if they’ve got to flee the scene”.

Primo frowns. His patent confusion vindicates Leonardo, for some fucking reason. He focuses on that instead on how much it pisses him off that he already knows that Primo will avoid simply saying that he’s sorry, as if the words were fucking poisonous.

“They don’t manage to do it, what do they do”, he insists.

The eerie stillness of the building, empty at that hour, just makes Primo’s silence louder as they walk to the elevator.

“Why, if someone had thought to ask just that”, Leonardo concludes, sarcastic, stabbing the push button.

Primo huffs. He can behave like a child all he wants, Leonardo is not going to give in. He’s fully capable of becoming as difficult as Primo can be, when he puts his mind to it. Let’s see if the other can take his own medicine—

“Her name’s Lucrezia”.

…

Leonardo is so thrown off by the non sequitur that he almost manages to momentary forget about his exasperation. He stares at Primo for a long moment, the doors of the elevator opening and staying open for them. “...She’s one of his classmates”, Primo adds, as if that clarified anything.

Leonardo’s bewilderment must be patent on his face because Primo makes a whole show of rolling his eyes, looking up as if asking God for patience. He grabs him and pushes him inside the elevator, pushing the button to the ground floor.

“Francesco”, he starts again, slowly, once the doors close off again. He’s probably aiming to be more comprehensible, but doesn’t manage to make it look as if he’s not in some way explaining things to a baby. “He’s not out there doing…”, he has to think for a moment to land in something Leonardo could possibly be pissed off about, and he’s not entirely convinced when he says: “...Drugs, or whatever the hell you’re worried about. He’s just got himself a...”, he trails off again, does a florid gesture with his hand as if he could grab the right word, ends up saying a very dubitative: “... friend”. He shrugs, as if deeming it a suitable enough explanation. “So yeah. You can stop being insufferable now”.

Each button keeps getting illuminated as they descend, a little peep sounding each time they pass a floor. So that’s what was up with them both. Leonardo feels tranquility washing over his surprise, before his gut settles on uneasiness as he continues looking at Primo and the stiffness of his shoulders.

He passes a hand over his face.

“Francesco’s got a girlfriend”.

“You’re not this dense on the usual”.

“And he told you about it”.

He’s well aware that Franceso regards Primo with an undercurrent of hero worship. He’s also intimately familiar with how despite the fact that Primo is a man of many hidden talents, romance is, to put it mildly, not the subject he feels most comfortable with. The other is fucking with him in some way, he can’t help feeling sure of that, and it makes him kind of tense not being able to point out exactly where.

Uncharacteristically of him, Primo feels the need to fill the silence.

“Don’t be jealous”, he starts once the doors open, and he sounds a tad arrogant, as he always does when— “I told him to do a formal presentation at some point, bring her home to have dinner and all that stuff, let Regina gush and… yeah”. He turns to face Leonardo once he realizes that he has stopped on his tracks, adds, defensively: “You have been weird all fucking day. That’s why I didn’t tell you to come into the meeting”.

“Lucrezia”, Leonardo repeats. The name sounds familiar. It’s Primo’s closed off expression what makes realization fall onto his mind like a circuit breaker blowing up the fuse: a scratching sound and then fade to black. He stares at Primo in disbelief, mouth hanging open until he can work around the knot at his throat.

“Brambilla. Lucrezia Brambilla. Brambilla, as in. The daughter of the—”.

“Yes”.

A well-mannered girl, soft spoken and sweet. He has seen her in passing, disappearing behind the tinted windows of his father’s fancy car at the entrance of Francesco’s high school. He knows her father better. Sergio Brambilla.

Prosecutor.

“And you told him it was a good idea?”, Leonardo asks, in which he’d defend as a very reasonable tone of voice, given the circumstances, but doesn’t perhaps quite manage to hit the whole discreet thing, because Primo makes a sharp movement in the general direction of the night guard booth.

“What’s exactly bad about knowing what the fuck happens in that house?”

Of course. Of fucking course Primo would think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t even know why he’s surprised except that for the very little, trivial fact that he cannot believe what he’s hearing!

“You had a hand on it!?”

Primo has the sheer audacity to look offended.

“Me? In what? How the fuck could I possibly— As if it were my fucking fault now that your kid likes blondes!”

“I swear on everything that’s holy, Primo!”

Primo throws a look to the booth over his shoulder, then at him, then promptly grabs his arm and pushes him forward, making him advance towards the garage entrance, past the night guard, who takes a look at them and searches to fade with the wallpaper behind. He loves Primo, God damn them both, he does, but sometimes he’d hit him with a fucking chair, but also no, because someone’s got to keep a levelled head and he refuses to go down the level of a machiavelian, manipulative jerk who deems feasible to intervene in his son’s life like—

“Shut up for a fucking minute, will you”, Primo says, which is fucking rich. Leonardo shoves him off the moment they’re passing the first row of cars, the itch of a fight bubbling right under his skin. Primo doesn’t continue after seemingly making sure that he’s going to listen. He takes a deep breath before doing so, evidently to rile himself in, which would be the most annoyingly petulant thing in the world if he were any other person. “He took a liking to the girl on his own. They’re classmates, as I said. They’ve been friends since the start of the year, and now, well”, he shrugs, ostensibly. “She’s also going to study in Rome, it seems”.

It hurts. The fact that not only did Primo know before him about it, but that he has done so for such a very long time.

“And you planned to tell me when, exactly?”, Leonardo can’t help but to interrupt.

Primo copies his sarcastic tone when he answers: “When you’ve decided to make a problem out of it, perhaps?”

He knows in his heart that Primo trusts him, and that he does so seemingly to a further extent than anyone else. That he loves him, in his own peculiar way, and that he’d move heaven and Earth to protect him, and his family. That’s why it’s so hard to wrap his mind around the fact that he wouldn’t even bother to mention something like this. Besides, the careless way he’s speaking about it doesn’t really sit well with Leonardo. As if he had landed himself had single handedly on court when he came to know the girl’s father: “You remember that Brambilla accused me of murder, don’t you?”

“You were acquitted”, the other replies, instantly, tone tense. “You’re a model citizen, for all the guy knows”.

“He defended that I’m a mafioso”, he insists. He remembers the charges line by fateful line. Refusing to talk about it won’t make him forget what happened, notwithstanding Primo’s look on the subject. “He said that I planned to set up a cocaine distribution ring with the money I supposedly stole from—”.

“Nothing about them getting together forces you to have a good relationship with Brambilla”, Primo points out, exasperated, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s Francesco the one who’s dating his daughter”.

Leonardo limits himself to stare at the other from the other side of his Berlinetta when they reach it.

He should have confronted Francesco directly about it, but no, because the kid’s got an angelic face of never having done harm to a fly and he’s soft. Regina has a sixth sense for these things, she would have been a better option, except that he feared that Francesco would have gotten himself in bigger problems than a girl. It’s not a girl, though, not just like that, and really, there’s probably an option that he has somehow missed that would have prevented him from ending up in a parking lot, being looked at as if he’s hawk’s prey.

He sighs, opens the car and gets in, going through the usual motions as Primo follows him suit, putting the briefcase on the backseat, his jacket covering it after he fishes out his keys from one of the pockets.

Francesco could easily say the wrong thing, in the wrong moment, to the wrong person, and neither of them would be none the wiser. He could rat them out in a bid to brag, or because he thinks that he can relax his guard. What if he breaks the poor girl’s heart and she wants to take revenge? He remembers how stupid young love can make you, how blind.

“Telling Francesco that he can’t do it won’t work”, Primo says, serious, but not quite as biting. “You’ll just be handing him over the perfect excuse for him not to tell you shit in the future”.

Leonardo wonders if it’s the girl sticking it to her father what appeals to Primo so much about the whole thing, he supposes the other could appreciate a kindred spirit. It’s obvious that he’s talking from experience, and Leonardo doesn’t know if he feels more insulted by the possibility that Primo might be comparing him to Salvatore, of all people, or to Primo’s own dad, of all fucking people, as if he had ever given the slightest indication that he’d beat— That he’d— Just considering the idea that he might have to explain to the other that not every son has quite the same relationship with their father as Primo did with Angelo Nizzuto makes him kind of nauseous.

Primo must sense where his mind’s heading because he ends up adding: “Doesn’t matter if you’re nice about it, but you can be my damn fucking guest if you want to try”. He shrugs, then looks out of the window, as if he were washing his hands out of the situation instead of biding his time, as Leonardo is completely convinced he’s doing.

This is a lost battle, if Primo has already taken such a defensive stance on the subject. He’s got months on him, despite all (“They’ve been friends since the start of the year, and now, well”), more than enough time for him to look at Francesco and Lucrezia from every possible angle and to collect every single argument in favor of their relationship before quick starting a confrontation with him. And really, he’s just so blind sided by the whole thing. He must be a really bad father not to suspect a thing for months.

Leonardo puts the ignition key on, but Primo speaks again before he turns it.

“I’ve just told him to be smart, to pay attention, and not to run himself into problems” he insists, softer. “Your kid can do that. You know he can. Besides, I’m keeping an eye on him”, he turns to face him, “You can at least trust that, don’t you?”

That’s very unfair of Primo. It’s not a question of trust. Francesco’s a very inexperienced hot head. He’d be up to his knees in problems before he recognizes the first signs of danger, let alone ask for help.

“He’ll tell me himself if he does fuck up, you can be sure of that. Holy hell, he just won’t stop talking about the girl, you know? Lulu this, Lulu that”, Primo continues, as if he knew full well that he’s picking at his reticences little by little. Leonardo’s running out of excuses not to associate the pang in his chest with the notion that he’s been kept outside this little secret. “He calls her Lulu”, Primo explains, seemingly flabbergasted at the notion, which is very boldly rich coming from him, and kind of makes Leonardo want to ask him what exactly makes Lulu any more ridiculous of a nickname than Leo.

He snorts, despite himself.

Primo smiles a little when he sees him doing so, as if he’s just proved his point. It’d be so annoying, if it wasn’t so genuine.

“Better to wait the whole thing out. Let him go to Rome. There are more options in Rome. He’ll just grow bored, with time”. Leonardo raises an eyebrow. Primo’s smile takes the barest turn to playful. He deadpans: “Worse case scenario, they do end up getting married and we need to find you a proper suit to wear. You look hot with a suit. I don’t see a downside of the situation for anyone involved”.

Just like that. As if it were so easy.

He’d like to have a smidge of Primo’s unwavering faith in their future, of his unstoppable conviction that they’ll always come up on top, though he’s reduced to trust that the other knows what he’s doing and join for the ride.

Leonardo’s done so many bad things in his life, this is surely his God given punishment.

“When I told you to solve this I didn’t mean, like, personally”, Primo interrupts his train of thought making a vague gesture towards the backseat. “We’ve got people for that. You keep insisting on that: a good boss knows when to delegate”, he adds, in which Leonardo’s forced to interpret as his attempt to mock him. It’s very unfair, given how different is delivering the suitcase from when he told Primo that, that is, when he had to keep him in bed after getting shot, but he knows where Primo’s going with this. He knows this kind of dance.

He looks at him and keeps silent, so Primo’s forced to elaborate. If he wants to have dinner with him, he can just ask. Primo purses his lips, frowns a little, but finally says, slowly:

“I have an idea. That I want your opinion on”, then he stops for a moment, seemingly to revise what he’s going to say, and adds: “That we could discuss, with wine”.

“You want to have dinner at the Olimpo, then?”, he insists, just to hear Primo say it, and not be the slightest bit surprised when he ignores him.

“It’s got to do with your cousin. Does he still want to work for us?”

“Antonio? Yes”.

“How fluent would you say that he’s in Spanish?”

Leonardo takes the ignition key out.

___

An hour later, Dante would finish his cigarette under the street light by the back entrance of the office. He would take a quick look at his watch, and he would get into the car after checking the backseat, adjusting the jacket slightly over the suitcase. If he came back soon enough, he could have dinner with his girlfriend, he’d think, fishing for Leonardo’s car keys in his pocket. Maybe he could take her out next weekend, treat her to somewhere posh by the port. He’d turn the ignition key on.

…

KA-BOOM!!!!!

#trust fx #primo x leonardo #Lau writes #this is awfully domestic truth be told #if you made it to the end: I’m sorry but also I’m not sorry at all #Working title: My daddy’s got a gun (you better run)

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side-shawty · 4 years

Text

Space Heater

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot

Prompt/Summary: “Damian wayne x teen reader (age 16/15) fluff? Thanks in advance”

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Reader

Requested? YES by @fake-id-69

You falling asleep at the Wayne’s was a common occurrence. Your mom had given you much more freedom since you started dating Damian.

After, of course, he charmed her into oblivion without her even noticing. So when you woke up suddenly in Damian’s bed at 2AM you didn’t bat an eye at your location (pun intended), just the fact that it was colder than the Batcave in your boyfriends bedroom.

You realized you must have fallen asleep whilst the two of you were rewatching your favorite Disney movie.

You wrapped a black throw blanket around yourself and grabbed the slippers you always wore around the manor. Seeing as it was Friday night, Damian would be out on patrol and wouldn’t be back for at least another two hours.

When you finally made your way downstairs to the thermostat you saw that Alfred had beaten you there and was fiddling with the controls.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one who noticed the temperature drop,” you said, not even startling Alfred in the slightest.

“Apologies Miss Y/N,” Alfred said turning to face you as you stood beside him. “It has been finicky for a few days and it completely shut down about an hour ago.”

You glanced at the screen and saw the only thing on it was ‘ERR’ in big red letters.

“It’s alright Alfred, I’ll just grab a few extra blankets from the linen closet,” you said giving the older man a warm smile.

“I’ll be happy to get those for you,” Alfred said, and you were quick to shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on my way back and I going to make some tea first. Would you like to join me?” you told him.

“I’m afraid I can’t Miss Y/N, I’ve already been away from the computers for far too long,” and as if on cue the communicator in his hand began to beep and flash.

You gave a soft laugh, “What would they do without you?” You teased.

“Probably break far more than just the heating,” he said before bidding you goodnight and bowing out.

You only made a small cup of tea which you took into Damian’s room to let cool whilst you went o grab a few extra blankets.

When you got there you found a hastily written note that said:

‘Took the blankets and pillows to make an ultimate fort with the Titans. See you Monday!

All my warmth,

Tim’

You sighed and realized that he had only left a couple of extra pillows and 3 blankets. Since Damian, Bruce, and Jason were all home you realized you could only take one. Remembering that Jason ran cold and would need it and Alfred had his own quilts that the boys made him for Father’s Day.

At least it’s one of the warm ones, you thought.

You sat in Damian’s bed wrapped in the comforter and the blanket while sipping your tea. You had swapped your t-shirt for one of Damian’s hoodies and your shorts for a pair of spare leggings that you had in your drawer.

After you were significantly warmer you placed your empty cup on the bedside table and tucked yourself in, quick to fall asleep.

——

When you awoke for the second time that night you were burning up and had to take a second just to make sure you weren’t actually on fire.

You shot up, eyes closed, and peeled off Damian’s hoodie and threw the extra blankets aside before registering the arm around your waist. You opened your eyes to a dark room, blackout curtains drawn and Alfred asleep on Titus’ back at the foot of the bed.

The last thing you saw was Damian sleeping not-so-soundly after your abrupt movement. He groaned and cracked an eye open. You smiled at him.

“Beloved, do you have a reason to be awake right now?” He asked, ignoring the sight of you in a sports bra.

“Yes, I do actually,” you said and though your voice still held sleep the sarcasm was shining through.

He raised an eyebrow for you to continue.

“It’s because my boyfriend is a damn space heater and I felt like my skin was going to melt off,” you said and at this, he flipped onto his back and opened his other eye.

You tried not to give him the satisfaction of staring at his perfect shirtless form.

“Well you looked cold when I got back and I figured I should help you out,” he said giving you a sleepy grin.

Your heart leaped, involuntarily, as you realized that no one else had seen Damian like this. No one ever got to see the softer side of him like this. You were the only one he ever trusted with every part of himself.

You faked a gasp and moved to straddle his hips, “Damian Wayne, that’s awfully sweet. I can’t wait to tell your brothers what a sap you’ve become,” you teased.

Damian placed his hands on your hips and gave them a light squeeze, “Well now that just won’t do. I’ll never hear the end of it,” he said and faster than you could comprehend he flipped the two of you over so he hovered above you, your head caged in by one of his forearms.

You vaguely registered Titus and Alfred relocating to Titus’ bed beside the window.

“Damian,” you almost screeched in shock. He was half asleep not 2 minutes ago. Stupid Batman genes.

“Beloved,” he mimicked and used your shock to his advantage. Placing his lips on yours in a short, passionate kiss.

“I missed you,” you said, as he rested his forehead atop your own.

“I missed you too. I miss you whenever I go out on patrol. Hell, I miss you when you go home,” he said and you smiled.

“Maybe I should just move in here,” you said and his eyes flashed with an affirmation for a fraction of a second.

“Maybe you should,” he said and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down on top of you and in for another kiss.

“One day,” you said as you broke apart.

“One day,” he repeated.

“But for now I get you when the heat is broken as my own personal space heater,” you giggled and he rolled his eyes before flipping you once again so that your head was on his chest.

You stretched up for one final kiss before melting into Damian and quickly finding sleep in the comfort of his embrace, even if you were a bit warmer than normal.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dc comics #dc imagine #alfred pennyworth #alfred the cat #titus the dog #batfamily #dc

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supertransural · 3 years

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thinking about dean cas and baby jack going on a road trip. dean’s used to being in the impala for long lapses of time, but it’s usually stressful, it’s tiring, it’s always in the expectancy of another job, another monster to be defeated. it’s always going from point A where a killer was killed to point B where another one awaits. it’s always about the job.

so this time, concentrating on the road as dusk was slowly creeping up on them, with cas dozing off beside him or maybe thinking hard about... something (this was cas after all, how was dean supposed to know what went on in his (his!! he still couldn’t believe that) angel’s head), squinting as always, his eyes almost shut; with 4yo jack in the backseat, drooling all over the fine black leather (if this wasn’t his kid, dean would’ve stopped the car already and thrown the child out just for this punishable-by-death-atrocity) and dreaming about a future dean gets to be a part of (goddammit how did he get so lucky), he was surprised when he didn’t feel the much-too-common tension in his shoulders. he felt... relaxed, yes that’s the word. it’s a word he was beginning to understand, a word that cas was teaching him how to feel.

a small smile cracked its way through dean’s face as he turned his attention back to the road. they were on their way to Louisiana, not set on a town yet. he may have been retired, but dean hadn’t lost his taste for adventure, so he had convinced his little family to just, wing it. he wondered if he should switch routes and see where the new one lead him, but that might upset cas who was really excited about eating the good food he’d heard his husband talk so much about. louisiana it is, then, he thought.

in the corner of his eye, he could see cas breathing deeply, no doubt already mapping out every possible resting spot for tonight, every corner store that sold kids food, maybe emergency stuff (cas could get a bit overwhelming when he listed off every single potential thing that may go terribly wrong with jack when they leave the safety of their house) or diners that cas deemed appropriate enough for their special kid. because he really was special, every smile, every laugh, every new drawing or string of words he puts together seemingly just so he can see his dads smile, every single thing this baby does is special. unique. and dean gets to see all those things, he gets to be there for everyone of them. jesus he’s getting emotional, should stop that now or cas will be teasing him about it for the rest of the trip. ok, deep breaths now, he thought. the road, the wheel in his hands, baby’s engine humming quietly. right. got it.

they packed frantically two days prior, because cas. jack was giggling the whole way through, observing them from his stool, since apparently dean looked really funny with peach fuzz he hadn’t had the time to shave yet (cas woke him up in a panic at 6am dammit) pink pajama shorts, his boots and a unicorn tshirt he only wore in cas’ presence (sam is a lovey kid, but hell if dean is ever going to let him see the collection of tshirts this one comes from). 4 suitcases, a couple inflatable duck-floaties, way too many towels, every single one of jack’s stuffed animals (except the little purple dinosaur one that jack was firmly holding onto during his inspection of his parents’ packing ordeal) and a thousand other useless things cas seemed to find essential to their survival.

“jesus, it’s only a couple weeks, honey!” dean had told him, trying to fit the last suitcase into the trunk of the impala (and miserably failing, to his own bitter disappointment).

“yes, a “couple weeks” within which we will apparently be doing things and going places we cannot foresee, as was your wish. i simply want to be prepared for any alternative your resourceful mind might come up with. and jack requires all his stuffies, he cannot sleep without counting each one of them before bed. you do not wish to see your child cry for two weeks, do you? you would not purposely cause him any pain, would you? right then the matter is settled. these items must find their way into this car you love so much, and i must attend to our son. his breakfast awaits!” cas had responded, mischievous smile growing larger with each sentence. “good luck!” he then added, giving dean a long and deep kiss, as if this was to be their last.

after a kiss like that, how was dean supposed to keep on complaining? he wasn’t, and that was exactly what cas intended, dean knew that. doesn’t mean he protested, or argued against his miraculous-bitch of a husband. so he had finished packing, muttering to himself, but unable to push down the grin that cas’ kiss had brought upon his face. or the flush of his cheeks for that matter.

here he was, happy as he’d ever been, relaxed for the first time ever while being on a long drive (first of many times, he hoped), with the love of his life on his right side, and the other light of his existence in the backseat, little hands still clutching the purple dinosaur.

“hey.” he heard a raspy and sleepy voice say. cas had indeed been asleep for the past 30 minutes.

“good morning, sleepyhead!” answered dean, chuckling.

he looked at cas’ beautifully hazy face, his icy blue eyes shining in the pink-orange light of the fading sun. god, how could this man be his, and how could dean ever refuse him anything. he reached out his right hand to place it on cas’ left thigh, stroking it lovingly in round patterns with his thumb. smiling at him, he wondered if giving him a quick kiss would cause his husband to start lecturing him again (for the thousandth time probably) about driving safely when jack was in the car.

fuck it, he thought. he glanced at the empty road, and lunged quickly towards cas before the former angel could refuse, and placed his lips on his for a few seconds. grinning to himself as he sat back, directing his gaze back to the highway, he waited for cas’ annoyed voice, no doubt already preparing a stern talking-to and threatening him to rat him out to the police to get his license taken away (not that it would matter, dean still had all his fake ID’s in a secret box back home, carefully tucked between baby clothes and pacifiers at the bottom of a drawer).

“dean.” cas started, a frown already carved into his forehead.

“oh no you don’t” dean cut him off. “if you lecture me, jack’s gonna feel it and he’ll wake up from what seems to be a very pleasant dream. save it for the hotel room, i know a few ways you can make me feel the weight of my wrongdoing.” he added with a wink.

cas turned to look at his son, still happily asleep in the back. frown disappearing, a sweet smile starting to lighten his expression (wow, he really could just look that magnificent whenever he felt like it) he turned back to face his partner.

“fine. just because he’s asleep. where are we?” cas said, squinting disapprovingly, then yawning silently.

“just passed the northern border of arkensas.” answered dean with a sigh. “gonna be a pretty boring drive from here on out”.

“i see. there’s a motel not far from here, with a town nearby where we could find sustenance, appropriate for jack too.” cas said, not even looking at his phone: he’d memorized each town’s location, every name of every motel, roadhouse, diner that they might encounter, because he was like that. and god did dean love him for it. “it’s getting a bit late, and i would rather see jack in a bed tonight than sleeping in the car” he remarked. “no offense to her” he added hurriedly when he felt dean’s glare after what could be interpreted as an insult to his baby.

“alright. when’s the exit for this town of yours?” dean asked absentmindedly.

“15 more miles, i believe.” cas answered, propping up an elbow on the windowsill.

“cool. tell me when you see it, i might forget, with you looking so handsome right next to me and all. tired father really is a good look on you.” dean whispered with a side smile.

“oh stop it. jack is right there.” cas answered, chuckling and fiddling with his wedding ring.

they stared at each other, peace settling comfortably between them.

“you know i love you, right?” said dean, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“yes, you’ve taken the habit of telling me, roughly 28 times a day, give or take.” joked cas as he saw dean scowl. “i love you too, now and forever, when the seas rise and swallow the land, when the heavens fall and the stars burn out, i will still love you, the only light that ever mattered, the first soul i ever really saw, the one i followed to hell and back. but you already knew that, right?” cas uttered with warmth, with the same voice he’d used at their wedding.

“jesus, cas. if you’re not careful, i might just end up falling for you. oh wait, i already did.” answered dean, face reddened and heart full. this is where he belonged.

dean’s hand was still on cas’ thigh, and their gazes were still locked together when jack woke from his sleep in an adorable mumble. he immediately started babbling to his fathers about the dream he had had (probably making up new details, but you could never know with that kid). as the family laughed together, dean looked to his window, and time stilled for a split second.

he saw a ghost of who he was, staring back at him in his reflection, eyes glossy with tears (joy? terror? sadness? love? hate? too hard to tell). the face in the makeshift mirror seemed to ask “is this really what is coming? will i truly get to where you are one day?”. dean smiled, nodding a silent “yes, yes you will. in time.” and the face faded away slowly, a little less scared than it had seemed at first.

when he looked back towards his husband and his son, his own eyes were glossy too.

“what’s wrong?” cas asked, worried.

“nothing, i’m just happy.” dean answered, wiping away a tear that was slipping down his cheek with a sure smile. “i’m just... happy.”

they drove until cas pointed at the exit, ate, and fell asleep contentedly.

18 years ago, dean dozed off without the need for strong booze in the very same motel, and the same tear (joy, maybe?) danced down his face into the pillow. a low hum of a voice saying “in time” ringing brightly in his mind, he fell asleep into the deepest slumber he’d ever gotten. “all will be well”, a voice kept repeating.

#oof ok this was supposed to be a short post about a fun road trip #i’m thinking i need to get better at writing so i can turn this into an actual fic #anyways imma be thinking about this for the rest of this evening bye #spn #supernatural #destiel #cas #dean #dean winchester #deancas #bidean #baby jack #ficlet

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