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1kook · 3 years

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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The Hottest Avenger - Bucky Barnes

a/n: im warning you, i will probably not stop for a while with the bucky fics so... brace yourselves lol! also i wrote this before ep 5 came out so its placed in that time

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: TFATWS spoiler, some violence? nothing extreme

word count: 1.8k

summary: Being locked together with Sam and Bucky brings the worst out of you, picking on each other constantly. Following an arguement Bucky accidentally calls you his girlfriend in front of Sam when your relationship was supposed to be a secret.

masterlist

“Did you fucking eat the last dumpling?” you accuse Sam, holding up the empty takeout box where you thought were one more dumpling, one you’ve saved for yourself, but now it’s gone as Sam is eyeing you with his mouth full.

“Thought it was mine,” he mumbles, his words barely understandable from all the food in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath you’re trying not to jump at his throat right then and there. You’ve been locked up together all damn day in the trashy apartment across the street from the building where’s Zemo supposed to be hiding. Sharon had a tip about a possible place where he might be found, but you’ve been waiting to no avail for now. You’ve been growing stressed and impatient. You lost track of Karli and her people and now you can’t seem to find Zemo either. If it wasn’t for the Dora Milaje, you wouldn’t bother to be so after the asshole, but Bucky said if Ayo finds him first, he is dead and every useful information he holds goes to the grave with him so now you are forced to look for him. One failed mission has been following the other these days, that incompetent dickhead John is on the loose too after murdering that man in front of civilians and you feel like control has slipped out of your grip a long time ago. Now you’re stuck with Sam and Bucky in this crappy place, waiting by the window, watching out for Zemo and on top of everything… Sam ate your last dumpling.

Just when you’re about to snap at him, you feel a strong grip on your shoulder. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Bucky right behind you, but not just because he is the only other person in the room beside you and Sam, but also because you know his touch probably more than anyone. Only that most of the times it’s not your shoulder he is gripping…

It’s been going on for a long time between the two of you. Started with just some innocent flirting and you never thought it would grow into something more significant, but it did. And now you are officially in a relationship with none other than the Winter Soldier, only that no one else knows about it and you plan to keep it that way. You don’t need the teasing and jokes and the Avengers are known to be dicks sometimes, especially Sam.

Glancing up your eyes meet Bucky’s blue irises and he sends you a look that says “just let it go”, and though every fiber in you wants to whoop Sam’s ass, you let it slip.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna get mad about a dumpling,” Sam chuckles as he chews on the food that you should be enjoying right now.

“I can get mad about whatever I want to,” you growl back, growing quite irritated of him at this point.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he huffs under his breath, clearly not as bothered as he should be. Before you could do any harm in him, you leave your spot by the window, needing a breather from… well, from him.

“Hey, it’s still your turn!” he calls after you.

“I need a break,” you growl back.

“Get your ass back here, we agreed to switch every two hours!”

“Sam! I’m walking out because I’m way too tempted to punch you in the face right now!” you snap at him, losing your patience. He rises from his seat with a hard expression, not quite a fan of the way you just talked to him, but you couldn’t care less.

“You think you could actually throw one? Because last time we fought you couldn’t really get a hold of me,” he narrows his eyes at you, coming to stand tall in front of you, trying to intimidate you with how much taller and stronger he might be, but you both know you’re a better fighter.

“It’s easy to talk with your fancy tech stuff. Why don’t we see who wins in a simple battle?” you challenge him with faked boredom.

“Guys, stop. We should be looking out for Zemo, not tearing each other apart,” Bucky tries to end the staring contest, sticking his metal arm between the two of you in case any of you decides to launch at the other one.

“Then tell her to stop bitching!” Sam nods in your way.

“I’m not bitching, I’m just fed up with your bullshit!” you spat back at him, leaning closer, your chest coming in contact with Bucky’s extended arm.

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sam,” Bucky warns him, but Sam snorts dryly.

“Don’t tell me you are taking her side, she is throwing a fit for a fucking dumpling!”

“I’m not taking sides, just trying to settle this stupid disagreement here,” he defends himself and you roll your eyes.

“You can’t tell me she is not overreacting it, Buck!” Sam laughs in disbelief, taking a step back, dropping the act that he wants to fight you. He probably knows he would come out as a ridiculous loser. “This is fucking insane, I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit, Y/N,” he shakes his head.

“Hey!” Bucky snaps at him. “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that, okay?!”

“I’m just—wait, what?!” Sam’s eyes widen and you freeze too.

Your dumbass boyfriend didn’t just out the two of you, did he? What else is about to come?! Sam’s shock turns into a cocky grin as his eyes shift between you and Bucky.

“You guys… you guys are fucking?” he asks with a delightful laugh and you close your eyes sighing, already tired of his shit.

“That’s not—We’re not fucking, I mean… It’s not like that,” Bucky stutters, but it’s just making it worse. He looks at you with terror in his eyes, but you are way too drained to deal with it the right way.

“Yes, we are fucking! And we are in a mature adult relationship! Get yourself over it!” you bark at Sam before turning around and walking out.

You faintly hear the two men talk inside, but you don’t make out the words. You don’t go too far, sitting on the steps leading up to the third floor. Soon enough you hear the door of the apartment open with a creak and a moment later Bucky shows up in your sight. He sits beside you, remaining silent for a little before speaking up.

“Sorry for running my mouth,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“It’s… fine,” you breathe out. Bucky fidgets with his fingers and you know he wants to touch you in any kind of way as a reassurance that it really is fine. You don’t want to hold a grudge, it was an accident, you’re just a little bummed it’s not gonna be just the two of you anymore. Reaching out you take his hand, the real one that’s flesh and meat and you lace your fingers together as he peeks at you, still reserved and hesitant.

“Is it really fine or are you just bottling it up?”

“It really is fine,” you chuckle softly and leaning closer you kiss his scruffy cheek. “The only reason I wanted to keep it a secret is because you know how vickery the guys can get. I just didn’t want them to pick on us.”

“They do it because they are just jealous,” he smirks playfully, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Yeah? Of what?” A soft chuckle slips through your lips.

“That I scored the hottest Avenger,” he replies smugly and you can’t help but laugh with your head snapping back.

“I didn’t know you were fucking Thor!” you retort and immediately see his smirk vanish from his lips as he stares back at you, not enjoying your joke as much as you are.

“Thor? Really? Not this shit again, Y/N,” he narrows his eyes at you. Back when you were just skirting around each other, you loved pulling his leg, joking about how much you are into the hottest Avenger, aka Thor. He never appreciated it, usually earned you a tight-lipped smile before he mumbled “Tarzan’s got nothing on me” before walking away, leaving you laughing like a hyena.

“Come on, you know I’m more into super soldiers,” you grin, leaning closer as he pepper his sharp jawline with more small kisses.

“You know, it’s not the best thing to say to your boyfriend when there are now about eight more super soldiers running around,” he huffs.

“But none of them has a metal arm,” you point out, finally making him laugh.

“So that’s your kink? A vibranium arm?” he asks with faked shock and you curl your arms around his bicep, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How haven’t you realized yet?” you chuckle. Bucky turns his head until his lips can capture yours in a sweet, lighthearted kiss that makes you forget about everything that’s been clouding over your mind these past days. All the failures, the mistakes and chaos fades into nothing, because you have him and he has you.

Walking back into the apartment Sam stares back at you, neither of you entirely sure how to act after what just happened. He then grabs his phone from the dusty table before holding it up.

“I could order some extra dumplings,” he offers and you crack a smile shaking your head. This was his peace offering, both of you knows he won’t straight up apologize for the way he talked, but this is already more than what you were expecting from him. Bucky must have had a few words with him before joining you outside.

“It’s all good.”

The three of you get back to work, taking your previous spots, returning to the task on hand as silence falls on the room once again. You catch Sam glancing at you and the Bucky and you can tell he is about to make a snarky comment on your relationship. And just as he is about to open his big mouth, Bucky moves to silence him, but you’re faster. With a simple move you throw Sam to the ground, keeping him down with your hand wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t even think about teasing, understood?” you hiss at him as he gasps for air, his hands wrapping around your wrist as he tries to fight you off, but you hold him a second longer to emphasize the importance of your words. Then you finally let go of him and he coughs for air, fixing him up from the floor as you simply walk back to your spot by the window.

“Hottest Avenger, huh?” he breathes out, revealing that he heard what you talked about out on the stairs. “More like the Avenger with the most anger issues…”

You just grin, glancing over at your boyfriend who is now standing with his arms crossed over his chest, not even bothered by his friend’s struggles on the floor as he smirks back at you, nodding proudly as if he was saying: “That’s my girl.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Note

heyy do you think you can do a steve rogers x reader where the rest of the avengers try to matchmake them because everyone ships them (& everyone knows that they're both in love with each other besides themselves LMAO)? it would be EXTRA amazing if you could make it such that the reader is smaller/shorter than steve? personally really love the height difference in a relationship but if not it's fine too! thank you so much, have a great day ahead xoxo

Set Us Up

Warnings: 2455

Word Count: crude language, but mostly fluff

a/n: This took me a hot minute because I couldn't think of ways for everyone to try and set them up lol, but I think this is super cute! I hope you have a great day too!!

Masterlist

"He totally has a thing for you! Nat, back me up." Wanda turned to the redhead.

You, Wanda, and Nat were supposed to be training. Instead, the two of them have been trying to convince you to make a move on Steve. As if that would ever happen.

"She's right." Nat replied calmly.

"Would you two stop gossiping and just train with me! Please!" You have never confirmed your crush on Steve, but that didn't mean your two best friends didn't know about it.

"Y/N, I'm serious. That man is crazy about you." Wanda tried again while Nat easily defended your attack.

"Wanda, he's my friend. That it." You refused to make eye contact, knowing she would she the longing in your eyes. Instead you kept advancing on Nat.

"Friends don't look at each other like that." Wanda smirked, knowing you'd fall into her trap.

"Like what?" You continued sparring with Nat.

"Like he wants to fuck you against any flat surface available." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Wanda!" You finally turned to her. Unfortunately, that was the point where Nat went on the offensive.

She easily tackled you to the ground, unable to stop her own momentum. She folded you like a pretzel, resulting in a very pitiful whine from you.

"Ow." You complained from the ground, not bothering with trying to get up.

"I know exactly what you need." Nat smirked devilishly. "Steve!" She called across the gym, only making you wince further.

"Steve! Can you do me a favor?" Nat asked the super soldier, knowing he was never one to turn down a friend in need.

"'Course, what do you need?" He made his way across the gym to where you were still sprawled out on the mats.

"Y/N just took a pretty bad beating. Can you help her stretch?" Her and Wanda wore matching smirks despite trying to hide them. "I'd do it, but I promised Wanda I'd help her with something, and we have to go now."

Steve barely had time to respond before the two women were making their way out of the gym.

"Hey, Y/N." He greeted you kindly, looming over your body which was still on the ground. "Are you okay?"

You huffed, glared at the door where your friends just abandoned you, and then smiled at Steve. "Yeah, Wanda just distracted me and you know what that means when you're sparring with Nat."

He grimaced slightly, imaging the beating you just experienced.

"I've definitely been there." He gestured for you to put your foot in his hand. "Here, give me your ankle."

You followed his instructions, lifting your left leg until he grabbed onto your ankle. He slowly pushed your leg forward, helping to stretch your hamstring.

You couldn't help but laugh at the way he had to bend over slightly to fully push on your leg.

"What's so funny?" He tickled your leg before gesturing for you to switch.

"Nothing. You're just really tall." You snickered again at his hunched over frame. Your foot didn't even reach his hips, meaning his back was arched at an odd angle to give him the correct leverage to help you stretch.

"Maybe you're just short. Ever think of that?" He raised a brow, dropping your right leg back to the floor. "C'mon, give me your hands."

You raised your arms up like a petulant child, knowing he would have to bend down to reach your hands.

He rolled his eyes at your childish behavior, but ultimately bent down to grasp your hands. He pulled you to your feet a bit too harshly causing your body to stumble into his.

Your head landed squarely against his chest, really showing off the height difference.

"See," he put a hand on top of your head. "You're just short."

You shoved him slightly, backing away from his warm body. "That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can go around saying it." You playfully glared at the much taller man.

"I'm sorry. Come with me, I'll make you a smoothie to make up for it."

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep the grin off your face.

"Deal."

You just knew Nat and Wanda would be all smirks when you inevitably filled them in on this whole encounter.

"Who moved all the mugs?" You muttered to yourself. You spent the last five minutes standing on the tips of your toes trying to reach the mugs that, for some reason, had been move to the very top shelf.

Then you spent another five minutes looking for the step stool you kept in the kitchen.

You were about to resort to climbing on top of the counter when Steve walked into the kitchen.

You didn't even have to ask for his help before he was walking up behind you and reaching for a mug. His body briefly brushed against yours as he pulled the mug from the shelf, plopping it down on the counter in front of you.

"Thank you." You smiled at him, unsure if you could form any additional words.

"Anytime, short stuff." He smirked.

"Hey! It's not my fault someone felt the need to reorganize the cabinets." You whined. "Who does that?"

"I think it was Tony." He chuckled. "He said something about helping two idiots realized they're in love." He shrugged.

"That man is so weird." The two of you laughed, completely oblivious to Tony's plan.

"You ready to go, punk?" Steve could tell just by the look on Bucky's face that something was up.

"What did you do, jerk?" He eyed him suspiciously.

"Nothing!" He quickly looked down the hall, knowing you and Sam were supposed to emerge any second.

"Sam! You promised you would take me to Coney Island today!" You followed him down the hall, not realizing Bucky and Steve were already in the living room.

"I know, but I can't! I have to fix my wings." He glanced at Bucky conspiratorially. "Tin man, Tony said he needs you in the lab. Something about updating the tech in your arm."

Bucky looked back at Steve.

"Sorry, man. Gotta go." Bucky went to leave, but turned back before he made it out of the doorway. "Why don't you and Y/N go?"

"That's a great idea!" Sam added on. "You two go have fun."

The two of them ran from the room together before you could protest.

"Looks like it's just you and me." You smiled at Steve, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. "You coming?"

"Definitely." He smiled right back at you before leading you to the car.

The car ride took a while, but it felt like no time at all while talking to Steve.

"What's your favorite part?" He gestured to the park map as the two of you walked in.

"I've actually never been before. That's why I was so bummed when Sam said he was busy." You looked around the park entrance, taking in all the bright colors and happy people.

"I'll just have to show you all of my favorite parts then." He smiled at the look of wonder on your face, slowly reaching for your hand.

"I'd like that." You bit your lip nervously, butterflies swarming in your stomach when he took your hand.

He showed you around the entire park, starting with the rides. You went on every ride you could, only stopping when a fan asked for an autograph or a picture from one or both of you.

"Those are all the best rides." He smiled confidently.

"Really? No ferris wheel?" You pouted a bit. "I've always wanted to ride a ferris wheel."

"Don't worry, we will." He grabbed your hand again. "It's better to save that for the end of the night. Right now, it's time for games."

You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He genuinely looked to be having the best time in the world, and you honestly felt the same way.

"Lead the way."

The two of you made your way to the arcade, where Steve let every kid beat him.

His face lit up with joy watching them celebrate beating Captain America at various carnival games. When the game seemed unbeatable, he would win and let the kid choose a prize.

At the last game, he whispered with one kid as you looked on suspiciously. The little boy grinned, nodding his head in complete seriousness before turning back to the game.

When Steve won, the little kid smiled bigger than anyone else had all day. Steve walked back over to you with an enormous gray teddy bear.

"Your losing streak ends." You gestured to the bear.

"Yeah, well little Michael over there said I needed to win a prize for my pretty friend. He said he'd throw the game for me." He spoke with complete seriousness, causing you to giggle.

"That might be the cutest thing I've ever heard." Your face was the epitome of heart eyes as you looked between Steve and the bear. You pulled him into a massive hug before finally stepping back and trying to calm down.

"What's next?" You grabbed the bear, holding it tightly in one arm.

"Food!" Again, he held your hand as he lead you around the park.

He walked with you along the boardwalk, pointing out various spots to get different foods. Some had been there since he was a kid, others were clearly newer.

"This used to be my favorite." He smiled fondly looking at the Nathan's Famous sign.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" You walked confidently up to the window only to realize you had no idea what to order. "Steve! What should I get?"

He laughed at the panic on your face. Without even realizing, he put his arm around your shoulder, drawing you closer to him. You went easily, leaning into his touch.

"Can we get two Coney dogs and a large order of fries?" He asked the attendant taking orders. "Do you want anything to drink?" He looked down at you as though this were an everyday occurance.

"A slushie!" Your eyes went wide, a giddy kind of excitement growing in you.

"And two cherry slushies, please." He fished out his wallet with his free hand, still holding you close.

You moved to get money as well, but Steve shook his head. "This one's on me, sweetheart."

You all but melted at the pet name, hiding your smile by burying your head between your bear and his chest.

You signed a few more autographs and posed for more pictures while you waited for your food. A little kid came up to the two of you just as your order was called.

"I'll get it." You gestured for him to talk to the child.

"Captain America!" The little girl smiled widely when Steve crouched down to talk to her. "Are you on a date?"

Steve's face reddened at the question, but it made him think. "You know what, I think I am." He shook his head when he finally realized that Bucky and Sam set the two of you up without either of you realizing it.

"My mommy's gonna be sad. She said you're really handsome." The little girl laughed.

"Well, she's right. He is really handsome." You whispered conspiratorially as you returned with the food.

The little girl laughed before running back to her mom.

"C'mon, we can go sit on that bench." Steve gestured to an empty bench overlooking the beach. The two of you joked and laughed while you ate, but Steve couldn't stop thinking about the little girl's question.

"It's beautiful." You looked out over the sand. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the water.

"Breathtaking." Steve agreed, his eyes focused on you rather than the view.

"It's later in the day. Does that mean it's time for the ferris wheel?" You smiled widely, a common occurrence for the day.

"Yep. The ferris wheel is the very last thing to do before leaving." He threw away the trash from your meal before taking your hand in his.

"Why's that?" You looked up at him curiously.

"It's slow enough for you to enjoy the ride, even after eating. Plus, you get the best view from the top when the sun is setting." The two of you stood in line as he explained his reasoning.

"I guess you really know all the best tricks." You smiled at him, hugging the bear to avoid any embarrassing actions.

"Not really. Just the old ones." He joked.

"Steve Rogers! Did you just joke about your age?" You gaped at him playfully.

"Hey! If I can't joke about your height, you can't joke about my age." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I guess that's fair." You nudged him with your shoulder, but he remained solid as a rock.

The two of you sat next to each other in the cart, placing the stuffed bear across from you.

"You were right. This is an incredible end to a marvelous day." You looked out over the park, taking in the pink and orange hues from the sunset.

"Y/N... I think Sam and Bucky set us up." He looked at you nervously.

"Yeah, they did a great job of it too." You replied easily, having realized much earlier than Steve what was going on.

"You're not upset?" He questioned, a confused look on his face. You decided to respond with an unfamiliar amount of bravery.

"Steve, I had an incredible day. The only way I'd be upset is if you didn't kiss me at the end of it." You smiled shyly.

"What if I kissed you now, even though it's not technically the end?" His smile matched your own.

"That'd be okay too."

"You both leaned in, meeting in the middle for a soft and romantic first kiss. His lips moved against yours as if they were made for each other.

"Steve?" You pulled back for air.

"Yes?" He smiled blissfully, forehead still pressed against yours.

"I think we're the idiots in love with each other." You whispered softly, thinking back to what Tony had said.

"I think you might be right."

He smiled, pulling you to kiss you again.

"Steve?" You pulled back again, a bright smile on your face.

"Yes?" His eyes remained closed, just breathing in the moment.

"The ride is over..."

His eyes snapped open, a blush painting his cheeks when the ride attendant awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry!" He jumped from the ride, grabbing the bear in one hand and you in the other.

"Where to now?" You questioned, laughing as he pulled you through the park.

"Home, so I can end this date right."

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #captain america fic

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happytroopers · 3 years

Text

Sick days // Hunter x reader

My google history search after this: what do they call toilets in Star Wars? Star Wars rabies?

Summary: I would do anything for Hunter, even take care of him when he has food poisoning. I saw a sick day prompt list and didn't end up using anything but it inspired this cluster fuck

TW: throwing up, alcohol mention but no use, bad writing I just love him ok

"Hey, have you seen Hunter? I need him to sign off on some damage reports." You announced as you entered the cockpit of the ship as it barreled through hyperspace, throwing a pointed look at Wrecker who was the main reason for most of aforementioned damage reports.The other members of Clone Force 99 made some sort of acknowledgment of your existence. Wrecker grinned obliviously at you as continued doing bicep curls with a GONK droid while Tech made brief eye contact with you before going back to some sort of machinery he’d dissected. Crosshair was the only one to actually somewhat answer your question, giving you a sassily quirked eyebrow and motioning down with his toothpick. "I’m assuming that super vague motion would mean he’s in the cargo hold?" You pressed but you had already turned around to go find the sergeant. "Should we tell ‘er?" You heard Wrecker ask but when no one answered him, you assumed things would be fine. Besides after almost a year with the Bad Batch, you’d walked in on them in all sorts of compromising moments. Nothing would surprise you anymore.

After popping down the ladder into the cargo bay, you did a cursory sweep. Crosshairs rifle was disassembled on a crate for cleaning, more of Tech’s mechanical experiments in a heap by the bay doors, your own trunk of belonging… but no sign of Hunter. "Hunter? Are you down here?" You poked a little further into the sleeping quarters, like any room that housed four soldiers who didn’t know how to mop, the smell chased you right back out. Shaking your head you thought to yourself, That should be considered a hazard zone. You paused by the fresher to listen for water running but heard nothing, which officially meant Hunter hadn’t been anywhere you checked, Hell, did he jump out of an airlock? Just as you were about to give up, you heard an awful noise come from the fresher. Like a bantha dying in a fire. Did some animal stow away? Absentmindedly you considered getting Wrecker to handle it- the last thing you needed was contracting some planet-specific strain of rabies. But then you considered that in the process, Wrecker would probably destroy the entire bathroom. And then everyone would be without a bathroom for the next two days… and that could get ugly. Then the noise came again, bringing you out of your mental debate. With a heavy sigh, you decided you’d have to check it out yourself. So, after pulling a random tool off your belt, you let the door slide open. To your surprise, Hunter was the first thing you saw, bent at the waist over the vac tube, bracing himself with one shaking arm against the durasteel wall. His helmet was discarded carelessly two feet closer to the entrance, and the enhanced trooper was heaving breaths, looking rather haggard. Almost stupidly the first thing that came out of your mouth was, "Oh my God, did the animal do this to you?" Hunter actually startled, which had never happened before. He was impossible to sneak up on, it was his whole thing. When he did look up at you, he looked confused, among other things. His skin pallor was four shades lighter than it was supposed to be, slightly greenish gray, and dew dropped with sweat. "Animal? What animal?" "The animal that made that-" You cut yourself off suddenly feeling dumb, now lamely dropping your defense tool. Then the disbelief, "Oh my- that noise was you?" He didn’t get the chance to answer again, instead turning his head back towards the vac tube to wretch again. Now with that information, the haggard appearance made more sense. "Hunter… you look like shit." You scolded, hesitantly moving closer, “Like, legitimately corpse like.” The sergeant coughed a bit before throwing you glare, “Thank you, (Y/L/N), that’s very helpful. Did you need something?” Damage reports long forgotten, you ignored the question instead more concerned with the trooper in front of you, “Why the hell are you standing like that? What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Hunter was confused with this sudden line of questioning, turning his head to gag a little bit but this time he kept it under control to answer you, “Clones don’t get sick.”

“So this is normal for you?” You snarked right back, “Here, try kneeling, it won’t take as much of a toll on your body like that.”

At first he didn’t listen to you, just when the ship hit a patch of turbulence it triggered another wave which forced him to a knee. Then it hit you, clones don’t get sick, they’re engineered with near perfect immune systems.

“You’ve never been sick before have you?” You whispered sympathetically, he legitimately didn’t know how to handle being sick. Frowning, worried welled up in your stomach. It was almost painful to watch the man be so sick, after all how many times had he saved you or helped you out of a tight spot, so you looked away until he quieted again. This time he took a minute to catch his breath so you took some liberties.

“First, let’s get your hair off your neck and face. You’ll feel less gross.” You promised, going behind him to gently scrape his long hair into a makeshift bun and tie it off with a spare hair tie.

“What are you doing?” He croaked, but didn’t pull away from your hands.

“Taking care of you, now shut up and let me.” While your voice was still kind, you were just stern enough not to argue with you, “Now, lean up.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow the orders, instead you started unfastening pieces of armor on his arms before moving on to the chest and torso pieces. Moments later he was able to move a little freer and his armor from the waist up was neatly stacked to you right.

“There, that should help with the overheating.” You announced, not mentioned how he couldn’t bend over properly with a piece of plastoid against his abdomen. You gave him another once over, he was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, little baby hairs already escaping your rather pitiful man bun situation. You’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“So clones don’t get sick, why are you throwing up like my roommate after her twenty first birthday?” You asked quietly, gently moving the stray bits of his forehead.

“Would you believe that I ate an expired meal ration?” He asked with enough doubt in your voice that you immediately shook your head.

“You’re not that stupid Hunter.”

“I lost a bet with Crosshair and had to eat part of the Yalbec stinger. Tech did say it was a delicacy on some planets.” He sighed, dry heaving again.

“I also remember him saying it was mildly poisonous to humans.” You reminded him, going past him to the shelves that held shower things. Reaching into your own caddy, you produced a rag before wetting it in the sink.

“Yeah, I lost the bet before he enlightened us.” Hunter admitted, visibly relaxing when you put the cold rag on his neck before sliding into a sitting position next to him, “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Well, us normies get sick a lot.” You teased, laughing when you caught the disgusted look on his face, “But, I learned most of this stuff taking care of my hungover friends.”

“Oh, just your friends?” It was Hunter’s turn to sass you, but you just rolled your eyes. The two of you fell into a halfway comfortable silence, so you took your data pad to do a little research on Yalbec poisoning.

“You don’t have to stay for this?” Hunter reminded you, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. When you looked back over to him, he was staring at you. Even when puking, his eyes could stare straight through you. Hurriedly, you dropped your gaze back to your data pad.

“Well, you spend all your time taking care of them,” you motioned up towards the cockpit, “And me. So someone has to look out for you when you need it, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

His eyes softened as he relaxed slightly, you were glad to see his coloring was already getting better. But after a few moments, even the softness of his stare brought a flush to your cheeks so you just cleared your throat, “Well, the good news is that the holonet says someone of your size and weight will be fine. Symptoms should pass within twelve hours at the most, and it’s already been five.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

Your head snapped back up, he rarely ever called you by your first name. Somehow it almost felt intimate.

“Of course, Hunter.”

You scooted a little closer so that your knees would touch. Closer than you had ever been to him, but he didn’t scoot away. You smiled at the small contact, shaking your head.

“Can I impart on you a bit of civilian wisdom?” You asked teasingly, not even waiting him to nod. You took the rag off his neck and used it to dab sweat off his forehead, “Don’t eat random things on a dare, especially things you cut off foreign animals.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

#hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #bad batch hunter x reader

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athina-blaine · 3 years

Text

50 Types of Kissing Writing Prompts: #36 - Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

This got away from me.

“Ask me again.”

“Jon, you’ve practised these questions about 20 times just on the way over. I don’t think-”

“Just ask me again.” A beat. “Please.”

Martin let out a lengthy sigh, the kind that came from deep in his belly. It echoed down the corridors of the school hall alongside their heels clicking on the vinyl floor. “Right. Okay, so, how would you describe your teaching philosophy?”

Jon took a deep breath, chest puffing up. “My teaching philosophy is that all children are unique and deserve to have a stimulating educational atmosphere. I want to provide a safe environment where students are encouraged to share their thoughts and take risks.”

Martin smiled, trying not to giggle, but Jon’s voice inflected the exact same way every time he’d say “risks”- a sort of huffy pitch. It was hard not to be amused. “Very good.”

“Ask me the question about resolving conflicts in the classroom.”

“How do you intend to resolve conflicts in the classroom?”

“I would isolate the nature of the conflict in question and strategise accordingly. Compromise is the ideal resolution but in the event one cannot be reached, I will contact a higher authority than myself to mediate and help find a solution.”

“Perfect.”

“You don’t think it makes me look weak-willed?” Jon asked, brows furrowed with distress. “The part about contacting another authority figure? What if they want me to be able to handle the problem by myself?”

“I think it’s fine. You’re new. Shows you won’t let your ego get in the way when you need help.”

Jon let out a low breath, nodding slowly. His chest collapsed until he was nearly hunched over, and he tugged frantically at the strap of his briefcase. Martin had lent him that briefcase since it matched his nice navy blue jacket- he also figured it would help Jon feel more professional.

Martin wanted to say as much, lavish Jon in compliments on how scholarly and refined he looked, but every step they took closer to the school’s administrative office seemed to wound him up tighter and tighter until that briefcase strap threatened to fall apart. If Martin said Jon looked good now, Jon would just argue with him, citing the scuff in his shoes he hadn’t managed to buff out, or quadruple-guess the way he’d tied up his hair or something. The last thing Martin wanted to do was make Jon self-conscious; he’d just have to save all his gushing and lavishing for after the interview.

Martin’s restraint didn’t seem to matter, though, as, without warning, Jon stopped dead in the middle of the hall, digging into the recesses of his case. “I-I should practice the lesson plan one more time, the entire lecture phase is-”

“Jon.” Martin clasped his hands on Jon’s shoulders and turned him around. Jon stared up at him, eyes owlish and glossy with muted panic. “Please. Relax. It’s a part-time home economics class, not tenure for university English lit. You’re funny and charismatic and intelligent. They’re going to be begging you to take the job. The nice lady on the phone said as much.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t make promises you have no possible way of keeping,” Jon said, a sliver of ice snaking through his words. Martin lifted a pointed brow, and a dark stain flushed Jon’s face. He looked away. “No, I … Sorry. I don’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“It’s not that, it’s …” Jon sighed, shoulders sagging. “I just want this to work. I … need this to work.”

Martin tilted his head. This wasn’t the same frantic energy Jon had been carrying with him since he’d gotten off the phone with Principal Williams last week. This was something heavier. More sombre.

“Can you tell me why?”

“It’s silly.”

“Maybe.” Martin shrugged. “Most things are.”

Jon still wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring down at their warped reflections in the floor. Martin waited, rubbing his thumbs over the jut of Jon’s shoulders.

“I just …” Jon started, then paused to breathe. “I don’t know whether or not I can still … function out here. Outside of the Institute. It’s been so long and … what if I just … can’t?” His voice lowered to a dull murmur. “What if I can’t make the adjustment?”

Humming, Martin stroked his hands up and down the length of Jon’s arms. He pressed a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “I don’t think that’s silly.”

Jon sighed through his nose, tickling Martin’s collarbone. Slowly, Martin pulled away.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, so. Let’s pretend you don’t get the job. Which won’t happen,” he said quickly when Jon’s head snapped up. “You are absolutely getting this job. But let’s just pretend you don’t. What do you think will happen after that?”

Jon’s brow furrowed with quiet confusion. His mouth flapped for a long while before, softly, “I … don’t understand?”

“Here’s what I think will happen,” Martin said, cupping Jon’s face between his hands. “We’ll go home. We’ll order a pizza, half cheese half-Mediterranean. We’ll flip on the TV and finish that nature documentary series. We can polish off that bottle of wine and I’ll rub your feet.” Martin leaned in close enough to press his lips to the bridge of Jon’s nose. “And then we’ll try something else. I actually think that animal hospital nearby is hiring.” Martin smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “You’d make a really cute vet tech.”

Jon’s lips twitched, eyes brimming with some complicated emotion. Martin smiled, holding his gaze until Jon turned away, face warming again.

“It’d suck if you didn’t get this job,” Martin said. “You’d be fantastic at it and they’d be stupid to turn you away. But, whatever happens, you’ll be fine. We will be fine.”

Silent, Jon stared somewhere between Martin’s chest and his neck. Then, he swayed forward, leaning into Martin’s sturdy weight, and Martin wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face into prim, professionally styled hair. They stood like that for a long while, breathing each other in. Good thing Jon had them show up about a half-hour early for the interview, just in case.

When they parted, Jon opened his eyes again, calm and bright.

“We could also get killed by a rogue satellite,” he murmured. Martin’s eyes widened. “Just, you know, as a worst possible thing that could happen. Rogue satellite. Right on our heads.”

Martin snorted. “I don’t think I phrased it quite like that, but, yes, I suppose we should consider that a possibility.”

Jon took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, just as Martin taught him. He rolled out his neck, cleared his throat, and tilted his head up. “Alright. Kiss me.”

Martin blinked. “Um. What?”

“Kiss me.” A beat. “For luck. Obviously.”

“Oh. Obviously.” Martin tried to smother his twitching smile. “I didn't realise we'd started doing that."

“Yes.” His eyes became pleading. “Please?”

Martin rolled his eyes, but kissed him, a chaste pressing of their lips. Jon’s eyes had slid shut and he took another deep breath.

“One more?”

Martin obliged. Jon’s eyes remained closed, his chin still tilted up. Martin provided another one without prompting, and then one more, for good measure, soft and indulgent. They were rubbing away at Jon's lip balm, but Martin's lips had been feeling a little dry anyway. The tension bled from Jon’s shoulders, and Martin parted with a breathy sigh.

“That’s all your lucky kisses for the year,” Martin said, earning himself a chuckle. “Spend it wisely.”

A cough drew their attention. An older woman stood idle by one of the classrooms. Through both of their embarrassed spluttering, Martin managed to note her and Jon had tied their hair in similar fashions.

Oh yeah. Jon was going to fit right in.

The woman stepped forward. “Mr. Sims, I presume?”

“I- uh, y-yes, ma’am.” Jon’s face was burning but the woman smiled.

“Glad you could make it. Mrs. Williams seemed really impressed with you after your phone call. Shall I walk you to her office?”

Jon nodded, squeezing Martin’s hand hard enough to break it off and take it with him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, none of this ma’am stuff. We’re going to be coworkers, yeah?" She held out her hand. "You can call me Janice. I teach maths.”

“Yes, m- Yes, Janice. It’s a pleasure to meet you." Jon accepted her hand. "Um, you can call me Jon.”

After their quick handshake, she indicated towards the hallway. Jon nodded and looked over to Martin. “I, uh … guess I’ll meet you by the car?”

“Meet you there.” Martin gave his hand one more squeeze. “Good luck.”

Jon smiled, a delicate, fluttering thing, before he slid his hand out of Martin’s and allowed Janice to lead them down the hallway.

“So, you’re from London, yeah?” she asked. “Grow up there?”

“No, I’m from Bournemouth. I moved to London after I graduated uni.”

“Oh, really? I think I’ve got a cousin who lives by that area. Always wish I’d have lived somewhere more coastal.” She turned to him, her teeth pearly white. “I have to say, we’re all a little curious about you. Don’t have many city-people here. We’re really excited to have you onboard.”

“Oh.” Even from this distance, Martin could see the way Jon’s face flushed. “I … I see.”

“I’m sure the others will want to ask you all sorts of questions, but don’t let that put you off, the staff here is as sweet as can be. They’ll get used to you soon enough.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder back at Martin, looking fit to burst. Martin waved, sure that his own expression was as sappy and affectionate as could be.

Yeah.

They’re going to be just fine.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #50 types of kisses

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

my happy ending [one] // kara danvers

summary: your crush from work decides to make a move, but she keeps putting off telling you something that you don't realise is actually really important

warning/s: none

author's note: i'm still working on a bunch of stuff but here's some old stuff to tide you over as i do. this is part one to a two-parter! enjoy :)

part two | masterlist

I sketched out some designs at my desk, ideas for some new Instagram and Twitter marketing CatCo we were planning to do. I was in charge of social media marketing at CatCo Worldwide, so things like this were routine at work. What wasn't routine was the cute blonde, Kara, AKA Cat Grant's assistant, approaching my desk with a chirpy smile on her lips.

"Hey, Y/N," she greeted, before setting down a coffee cup in front of me.

I smiled automatically, Kara's presence instantly affecting my mood in a positive way. I glanced at the cup and quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, Kara. Is this for me?"

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose adorably. "I was picking up Miss Grant's order and I remembered you said you loved the chocolate orange hot chocolates Noonan's do. So, I got you one."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Oh, wow, er, thank you. You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged, and I was sure she looked as flustered as I felt. "No biggie."

I took a sip of the hot chocolate and smiled at how good it was, but mostly because of who got it me.

"So, what are you doing?" she asked, walking around my desk and sitting at the edge. She glanced at my sketches and added, "Is that the new fashion post for our social media accounts? They look amazing!"

"Just some sketches, but eventually they will be," I said, before nodding. "And thanks. I just need the photos so I know what I'm working with. Gotta ask the new guy, James... you met him yet?"

Kara nodded. "Yeah, I just bumped into him earlier."

"Can you believe he knows Superman?" I asked with disbelief. "How awesome is that?"

She smiled with amusement. "Extremely awesome."

"Keira!"

Kara lost her smile when Miss Grant called for her, before looking to me apologetically. "I should–"

"It's cool," I said, nodding for her to leave before Miss Grant tracked her down. "Thanks again for the drink."

Kara flashed me a smile. "Anytime. See you later."

I watched her walk away, waving as she glanced over her shoulder. I found myself biting my lip to contain my own smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Kara Danvers, assistant to Cat Grant.

Ever since she began working here, I found myself crushing on the blonde and her cute mannerisms. We were friends, occasionally hanging out outside of work and doing things together. But that's all it was, sadly. I knew she was friends with Winn – best friends, I think – and I also knew that the tech guy was practically in love with her. I didn't know him as well as I knew her, but I knew enough to not want to get in between the two of them. So, Kara Danvers remained a silly little crush.

I got back to my sketches, managing to draft up some mock-ups on Photoshop before my day ended. I was more tired than I thought that evening, ending up falling asleep earlier than usual. Which meant that I missed the biggest news in National City yet – a mystery woman saving a plane from crashing, possibly a new superhero.

I woke up the next morning to a million and one calls and texts from colleagues at CatCo, all expecting me to get on social media to post about this mystery woman. By the time I got to work that morning, I was caught up with everything and in awe at this new superhero we had. It was pretty darn awesome!

The amazement I felt however was short lived, as Cat was all over me when I got to the office, claiming I should have been on top of our social media coverage as soon as it happened. Apparently me falling asleep wasn't a valid enough point to miss it, so I was put to work instantly, working with the photography and marketing department to find some sort of coverage on this mystery hero.

As I was lining up some posts with the limited images available of this hero, I felt a presence stop by my desk and saw it was Kara.

"Morning," she greeted, before glancing at my computer. "Oh, so you heard?"

I chuckled. "Kind of hard not to. It's everywhere." I nodded to the many TVs around the office that were playing reruns of the news coverage from last night.

"Pretty cool, right?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Very, but it also means I now have a lot of work to do, especially because I fell asleep when all of this went down," I said, jokingly. "Cat has been all over me about this all morning."

Kara laughed and it was literally the best thing I'd heard all day.

"So, I was actually hoping I could tell you something," she said, an excited smile on her face as she met my eyes.

I felt a little flustered under her gaze and found myself distracting myself with my computer screen momentarily.

"I actually have a lot of things to do right now,” I said regretfully. “Maybe later?”

Her smile faded as she nodded. "Right, no, yeah, that's totally fine. Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise," I said instantly, feeling a little bad. "I just– if I don't get this done, Cat will kill me."

"I got it, you do this, it's cool," she said reassuringly, offering me a small smile.

"Sorry," I tried, a little sad that there was nothing I could do. I really needed to get this done, despite wanting to spend some more time with Kara.

"It's fine, good luck," she said, giving me a grin and thumbs up before leaving.

I sighed, before getting back to work. Unfortunately, it was a few hours before I could get away from my desk, and I managed to track down Kara at her own desk, remembering she wanted to tell me something.

"Hey," I said, earning her attention.

She looked up from her notebook, smiling when she saw me. "Hey, you manage to get that content done?"

"Just about," I said, before offering a small smile. "Sorry again for blowing you off."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine, honestly."

"I'm free now though," I said optimistically. "Maybe we could grab an early lunch? You can talk to me then?"

Kara pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded slowly. "That sounds nice actually, yeah."

I felt a little relieved when she agreed. "Great. Well, I'll let you get your things and meet you by the elevator?"

She pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. "You got it."

We ended up getting lunch, as agreed, and it was nice to make it up to her. Though, I never really noticed that she never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so distracted by how smoothly our lunch was going that I forgot to ask her about it. Maybe if I'd asked, she might have told me the truth. Or she might have made something up and lied. I guess I would never know.

–

Did somebody say tiny umbrella drinks? #gottalovethetinyumbrellas #CatCoFoundation [image here]

I sent yet another tweet and picture out from CatCo's Twitter account, watching as it instantly got responses from everyone. I was at an event that Cat was throwing for all CatCo employees plus special guests. It was an event to raise money for Cat's foundation – a charity for children's hospitals in National City. My job was to live-tweet the heck out of the event, hoping to boost donations online.

It was a formal event, so I was comfortably dressed in some high-waisted pants and a silk blouse, it being my best attempt at 'formal' clothes.

The event wasn't too bad. There was free food and drinks, plus I got to hang out with some of my friends from work whilst doing the bare minimum. I just wasn't an evening person, I guess.

"Hey, stranger," a voice startled me, and I turned around, surprised to see Kara Danvers stood there.

I hadn't seen much of Kara in the past few months, despite working with her. She always seemed to be caught up with Winn, and she'd gotten quite close with the not-so-new guy, James Olsen. I wasn't stalking her or anything, but I began to notice when I would try to make plans with her like we used to – little things like grabbing coffee or going to watch a film after work – and she would decline or have plans already. Then I'd see her constantly being surrounded by Winn and James, so I figured she'd just made new friends.

"Kara," I breathed out, smiling as I took in her appearance. "Hey."

I hadn't seen her at all this evening and I was sure she just showed up because I definitely would have noticed how good she looked in that fitted red dress of hers.

"You look really nice," she said, looking me up and down before meeting my eyes.

"Thanks," I said, hoping my cheeks didn't look as warm as they felt. "So do you. You liking the event?"

Kara looked around, nodding. "It's beautiful."

"You did a good job," I said, giving her a knowing smile. "I know you planned it."

"This was all Cat, I just–"

"Kara, everybody knows you plan the events around here," I told her with a chuckle. "It's okay."

She smiled to herself, looking down. "Right." It went quiet for a moment before she looked up and said, "Do you want to dance?"

I was a little taken aback by her confidence, but nonetheless, I found myself nodding. She smiled as she held out her hand. I took it, feeling goosebumps from how soft her hands were.

She led me to the dance-floor, stopping and resting a hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. I nervously rested an arm on her shoulder as I focused on swaying to the music playing rather than stepping on her toes.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in a while," she said after a moment. I looked up and saw her blue eyes staring right through me.

"Well, we've both been busy," I attempted to give a reason.

She shook her head, smiling apologetically. "No, it's not that... it's my fault. I've been hanging out with James and Winn so much lately that I've been neglecting you."

I laughed a little awkwardly. "Kara, it's okay. You don't need to feel bad for having other friends. I mean, you don't have any obligations to me. They're your best friends. Of course you're gonna hang out with them."

She pursed her lips and I admittedly felt nervous as she stared at me, her expression unreadable. She was a little taller than me which didn't help with me trying to keep my emotions in check. She was extremely close to me as we swayed to the music and I could just about focus on it as she continued to stare at me.

"What if I want to have obligations to you?" she asked, and I almost thought she was joking until I realised that she wasn't.

I wanted to understand what she meant, but I didn't get to ask because she leaned forward and closed the gap between us with her lips. I was surprised at her boldness, pinning Kara for the shy type. Nonetheless, I returned the kiss, melting into her embrace and warmth.

We pulled apart soon enough, myself a little flustered from the kiss. My lips were still tingling as she met my eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I hope that was okay," she muttered.

I nodded slowly, still surprised. "Yeah, it was."

My stomach was doing somersaults as I mirrored her smile; the gala was merely a blur in the background as I realised Kara Danvers had just kissed me. I definitely wouldn't have thought she felt something for me other than friendship.

"I'm assuming you want this to go somewhere," I said, a little stupidly.

She laughed melodiously as she nodded, intertwining her fingers in mine. "That's the plan, yes. But actually, er..."

"Second thoughts already?" I joked, though inside I was genuinely believing she might be second-guessing her decision, judging from her sudden change of facial expression.

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "It's just, I feel like we should talk first. I have to tell you something. Before this goes any further."

She sounded quite affected by whatever it was, so I nodded, losing my smile for a moment.

"Of course, you can tell me whatever you need to," I reassured her, giving her hand a little squeeze. "Do you want to talk now or after?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but tilted her head to the side as she grew distracted. I waited patiently, expecting her to snap back into reality, but she seemed caught up with something else.

"Kara? You okay?" I asked, growing a little concerned.

"What? Yeah, sorry," she said, shaking her head before meeting my eyes with apologetic ones. "I'm sorry, I have to go for a minute. I just realised I have to check on the desserts for the party."

"Oh, okay." I nodded, giving her a small smile. "You can tell me whatever it is afterwards then?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'll be back after, I swear."

I believed her and watched as she let go of my hand, already in a rush to leave. I wondered what was so time-sensitive about desserts, but decided not to question it as I realised the very obvious and surprising fact that Kara liked me.

As she turned to leave, she quickly turned back to me and moved forward, pressing a haste kiss to my cheek. My face heated up as she flashed me a beautiful smile, before moving to leave.

Just danced with the most beautiful girl in the room #CatCoFoundation

I looked up and saw Kara by the door, about to leave, but she stopped when her phone vibrated. After glancing at the screen, she paused and a wide smile graced her lips. Her eyes lifted and she gave me a knowing look before disappearing. I found myself smiling like an idiot the rest of the night.

I guess I should have realised, once again, that Kara never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so caught up in the fact that she returned my feelings that I never remembered to ask her what it was that she wanted to say. Maybe if I'd remembered, things would have ended up a little differently.

–

Kara and I went on some dates, our relationship blossoming naturally. It was the best thing to happen to me at the time – finding someone who I thought truly understood me, and vice versa. We had inside jokes, an 'our song', a favourite restaurant we frequented; we were happy and it was amazing. I was really falling for her. I thought she was perfect. Nothing could change that, I thought. She was everything I wanted.

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?" Kara asked, tilting her head to look at me.

It was moments like this when I was in awe of her beauty, inside and out. She was comfortable, with her hair tied in a loose ponytail and her face makeup-free. Her glasses were balanced on her nose as she stared at me with an easygoing smile and sparkling eyes. I felt a sudden overwhelming flood of love for her as she waited for me to reply.

"I'm in love with you," I blurted out uncontrollably.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, mouth agape as she realised what I said.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "That was random. And weird. Too soon, right? I freaked you out. I'm sorry."

Kara blinked several times, straightening up as she shook her head. "No, it's not, it's..." I watched her with anticipation, as she found her words. "It's fine. It's... I feel the same way."

It was my turn to be surprised now. I raised my eyebrows, a smile forming on my lips. "You do?"

Kara pursed her lips, eyes flickering up to meet mine. "Yeah."

I breathed out. "I'm really happy to hear that, especially because I thought I freaked you out, but like, I feel like something is bothering you, Kara."

Resting a hand on hers, I squeezed it gently. She offered me a small, troubled smile and I wondered what was occupying her thoughts.

"I trust you," she said gently. "I do. I love you. And I... I want you to know that I think what we have is amazing. I've never been happier."

"This sounds like a breakup," I joked, chuckling nervously. She wouldn't break up with me right after saying 'I love you', right?

"No, no, it's not!" she reassured immediately, taking any doubt from my mind. She leaned forward and cupped my cheek gently. "I'm not breaking up with you, silly."

"Good to know," I said playfully, resting my hand on hers and moving it to my lips, kissing it softly. "What is it though? What's on your mind? You can tell me anything you know."

She nodded. "I know... I can. I will. Now."

I stayed quiet, watching as she had some inner conflict going on. What was bothering her so much?

"I want to say that I–"

But she was cut off by her phone ringing. She rolled her eyes and I offered her an approving smile as she reached to answer it.

"Alex, hey, what's up?"

I sat back, keeping ahold of Kara's hand as she listened to Alex on the phone.

"Are you sure?" Kara said, concern in her voice.

I wondered what was going on, as the blonde was scrunching her brows together with worry. Her hand slipped from mine as she stood up, pacing.

"Okay, I'll be there now," she finished, before hanging up.

"Hey, that sounded serious, is everything okay?" I asked, standing up, too.

Kara nodded, already in the process of grabbing her things. "Yeah, sorry, it's just some family stuff with Alex. I should get going and help her out." She stopped moving and turned to face me, a distracted frown on her face. "I'm sorry. I know we were supposed to spend the evening together and I wanted to tell you something, but–"

"It's fine, Kara, you can just tell me another time," I cut her off, moving forward and rubbing her arm gently. "I hope everything is okay with Alex. I'll just see you at work tomorrow, yeah?"

Kara smiled tightly, nodding. "You're too understanding. It's annoyingly admirable."

I chuckled, stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She had a few inches on me, so I had to step on my tip toes to reach, but seeing the little smile appear on her lips when I did made it worth it.

"Don't get stressed about whatever it is you wanna tell me," I added, meeting her eyes. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I love you and I'm really lucky to have you in my life. I don't think anything will ruin that. Just... remember that, okay?"

Kara nodded, her eyes flickering to the floor. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I'll leave you to it," I said, moving away to grab my coat and put on my shoes. "Good luck with whatever is up, and see you tomorrow."

As I was about to leave, her voice called out, "I love you, too."

I smiled widely at her before leaving, feeling lightweight because of all the love that was bubbling around inside of me. Once again, Kara managed to distract me from the fact that she had something big to tell me, as when I followed up the next day, she assured me that she just wanted me to know that she sometimes moved too fast in relationships and she didn't want me to feel like I was being rushed.

I believed her, blinded by what I thought was my happy ending, and that was that.

#kara danvers x you #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers imagine #supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl x reader #melissa benoist

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Note

can you do a fic that’s like the ep’s “hit” and “run,” but it’s Y/N and Spencer’s child they have to save, and not JJ’s?

pairings: spencer reid x reader, platonic!bau x reader

warnings: mentions of getting shot, bank robbery, blood, kidnapping, worry, cm stuff.

about: requested! s7 e23-24 but spencer and y/n’s child is at risk (jemily is canon btw, will knows)

thank you so much for requesting! sorry it took me so long and it's going to have to be in two parts, since apparently it was too long lol, it'll be up as soon as i'm done editing it! (i also promise it gets better in the next part-) part two

the ticking clock on your wrist seemed to pulse with each move the arms made, each one notifying you that you were running a little later than before. when spencer rounded the corner to your mother’s house, you sighed in short relief, unbuckling your seat belt when he parked and getting out of the car to open the door to the back, smiling at your son in his booster seat. “hey, bug,” you whispered, undoing his seatbelt and pressing your lips to his head in a weak attempt to wake him up. spencer was taking things out of the trunk hurriedly, setting them down and walking to the door of the house, where your mother was already waiting.

you pulled your little boy into your arms, seeing as he wasn’t fully awake yet and would probably stumble over his feet if you set him down. you only hummed when his fingers twisted in your shirt, holding you close.

“hey, mom,” you greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek. spencer’s hand rested on your lower back, the other adjusting emiliano’s hair.

“i’m sorry we’re so late, it was supposed to be a day off so yesterday we stayed up late, and emi wouldn’t wake up,” you said, your mom nodding as a response, "oh it's no problem, honey," she assured, stretching her arms out.

you kissed emiliano on the head again as a goodbye, smiling when he made a little noise and handed him to spencer, who pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before giving him to your mom. you waved goodbye to your son, heart stinging a bit from the disappointment that you weren’t going to spend the day with him like planned. “bye, mom! we’ll be back later, i love you!”

your mom sent you a goodbye you barely heard as you and spencer sped walked back to your car, driving to work late.

the ten minutes you were running late didn’t seem like such a big deal when you realized practically everyone else was behind schedule as well, although you couldn’t blame anyone, it was supposed to be your free day. spencer had even planned to go to a comic con with penelope, but he had only been able to start to get dressed before everyone got called in.

you and spencer were still in the car, examining the scene before getting out. outside, spencer planted a quick kiss on your lips, and you smiled, giving his hand a squeeze, then joining your team.

you stood between spencer and jj, greeting the others with a small nod and a smile before hotch began to list facts about the case. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed jj and emily’s hands tangling together, and a small smile sneaked onto your lips. your eyes flicked up to will’s face, realizing he had seen it too.

you looked back to hotch, who was still talking.

“... killed one person in each robbery.”

rossi voiced the question you had before you could, “m.o.?”

“single gunshot wound. each of the victims has bled out,” hotch explained and you all began walking towards the large vehicle housing penelope, sometimes cutting in with thoughts.

“serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period and we’re only just hearing about this now?” emily asked.

“headquarters identified them as robbers first and killers second,” hotch said, and you raised an eyebrow, “no one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies- especially in the span of seven months.”

“i agree; i disagreed with the original assessment, but i was overruled.”

you nodded, continuing to listen to what hotch was saying as you walked into the fbi rv.

“why haven’t we been able to id them off of surveillance footage?” derek asked.

“they hack the security feed and turn off the cameras. both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we’re allowed to watch.”

you squeezed penelope’s shoulder as a greeting, and she only smiled, blowing you a kiss as she continued to type.

you looked up at the screen showcasing the surveillance, running your eyes through the hostages. “they’re using the hostages as human shields,” you observed out loud.

“this is the first time they’ve been interrupted. what went wrong?” jj asked; the rest of the team voiced their thoughts until hotch gave everyone orders on what to do and where to go.

“jj, reid, and prentiss, look over past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology. pull another analyst if you need to. dave, handle negotiations, and morgan and l/n, strategize tactical options with mpd.”

you all nodded, and you squeezed spencer’s hand once more as a goodbye, walking out with derek.

you only had a few minutes to introduce yourself to mpd when a gunshot rang, making you flinch slightly and realize you would have even less time you thought.

“l/n?” a staticky voice you recognized as penelope interrupted your talk with the officer who was going to go in to help the injured bank robber, and you apologized as you pulled the intercom from your pocket.

“yeah, pen?”

“we got names. chris and oliver stratton. they’re brothers. oliver is the injured one”

“chris and oliver stratton," you repeated, "thank you, penny.”

“always, sweetie.”

you relayed the information to the officer with you and derek, who was currently loading up his weapon before reaching to put it in his pants. derek stopped him before he could, “no, no, no, no, i want you to put that in your bag.”

the officer paused, as if asking why, and you responded, “the woman’s probably going to want to search you,” you pushed the medical bag closer, watching as he put the weapon inside, “but chris is going to be too worried about his brother to delay long enough for her to check the bag, too.”

“alright.”

derek and you shared a look, “you’re going in to provide medical assistance, no unnecessary risks, hear me?” derek said, and the officer nodded.

“once you stabilize oliver, check on the hostage they just shot, he might still be alive,” you added. “understood,” officer green replied.

“do not draw your weapon unless you can subdue the unsubs without endangering the hostages,” derek told him, and green nodded again, zipping up the bag. “yes, sir.”

he began to walk over to the bank entrance, and you went over with rossi and hotch with derek; you stared at the screen with the surveillance, spotting the officer you’d just talked to walk in,

“shit,” you muttered, realizing the brother was probably going to die. “this isn’t good, hotch,” you said, and hotch didn’t reply.

“morgan, tell green to make a move before chris does.”

morgan touched his mic, pushing it closer to his lips, “green, you gotta go. green, go.”

you saw as he reached into his bag, pulling out his weapon in silence. chewing at your thumb, you froze when you saw chris reach for his own weapon, shooting green in the chest. you didn’t even have time to think over what just happened when chris shot him again in the head.

you could only blink and stare at green’s body lying lifeless on the floor, jaw clenched and hands shaking in frustration, trying to remain composed.

the next few minutes were a blur, swat was called and hotch and strauss argued about something you didn’t really pay attention to, “you okay, l/n?” derek asked and you nodded, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine, are you?”

derek only nodded, his attention taken away by rossi, who was waving him over.

“they called,” you realized, walking over to rossi.

“...i want an... armored truck and a plane with a cleared flight path to switzerland.”

a female voice cut in, “no, no, no. chad. we want to go to chad.”

“yeah,” chris said, “no agents with guns this time. we’ll fly ourselves.”

there was a click that indicated the conversation was over, and you swallowed hard, “i don’t think he’ll be happy she injected herself in like that.”

“these guys were too good to get caught. so, why did they?” rossi asked, and will, from next to you, answered, “911 received a call alerting them to a robbery in progress.”

penelope cut in from the screen in front of you, “actually, it was a text. dc added 911 messaging after the virginia tech students’ texts went unanswered during the massacre.”

“can you trace it, garcia?” hotch asked.

“yeah. that message was sent from a cell phone that is currently inside the bank that is registered to a… larry phillipis jr.”

will paused, “why does that name sound familiar?”

rossi was silent for a second, thinking, “that’s the name of one of the gunmen from the ‘97 north hollywood bank shootout in california.”

“so, is this an homage?” derek questioned, but no one was able to answer.

“guys, that message was sent thirty seconds before they blacked out the security feeds for entry.”

another voice offscreen that you recognized as strauss asked how that was possible, and derek answered, “it didn’t come from a hostage, it came from one of the robbers.”

you swallowed, “she wanted us here.”

jj and emily were back, and walking over to you and derek. “there’s no clear line of sight to the vault,” will noted, observing the map.

“no, but if we come in, that’s where they’ll go. we need to be ready for it,” derek stated, gazing up at the building.

“garcia caught us up. why instigate a hostage situation?” emily asked from next to you, and you shrugged, “what’s a narcissist without attention?” you answered, “she thrives on it.”

jj was looking around, “she must have something bigger in mind.”

you agreed silently, “well, we need to separate chris and the female to find out what that is.”

“it’s not going to be hard, they’re already on edge,” emily supposed.

rossi walked from the rv to the phone, taking your attention with him. you stared at him before noticing emily stepping over to him and leaving you to stay behind with derek, jj, and will. you all talked between each other, talking strategy and theories.

the next thing you knew, chris was asking for will, and jj was staring at will like he was crazy to even consider it. you were sat next to will, only listening to their conversation.

will was shaking his head, looking between jj and hotch before he turned to you. “i know you’d do it if you were me,” he told you, and you saw jj roll her eyes. “will, i get what you’re feeling, but you’re too close to this case to make this call.”

“you’re damn right i’m close,” will mumbled, “four people are dead because i shot his brother. and no one else needs to die because of what i did.”

you shook your head, “this isn’t about you.”

“risking your life won’t bring them back,” jj pointed out.

from in front of you, hotch sighed, “i’m sorry, will.”

you all stayed in silence for a while until emily walked in, a look on her face that made you sure the news she had wasn’t good. “he’s threatening to shoot more hostages until he has will.”

you sighed and will shook his head, standing up, “screw this, i’m going in.”

there was a panicked look across jj's features, mouth open to argue, but she didn't get to say anything. “no you’re not, we are,” hotch interjected.

in under three minutes, everyone was ready to go, vested up and anxiously waiting for the signal. you stood next to jj, biting your lip and staring at the map in your fingers, trying to strategize. you had barely looked up when you recognized will, walking towards the doors of the bank, seemingly unarmed with his hands raised. your eyes widened, lips mouthing an unheard no and you immediately turned to jj, who had barely seen him.

her mouth opened in a scream of protest, feet beginning to take off to try to stop him in any way she could, but derek had wrapped his arms around her chest, holding her back and off the ground, even as she fought against his arms. emily touched her arm in a useless attempt to calm her. you were frozen, only able to stand and stare and wait for the best that was probably not going to happen.

it was only three seconds that jj’s feet were on the ground, body trembling and eyes already rimmed red.

ten seconds passed by and three gunshots rang, loud and piercing and you pulled a hand to your lips, eyes following jj’s as she tried to run again, but you and derek pulled her back, letting her go when she planted her feet on the ground unsteadily, hand on her mouth.

you were all surrounding jj, apprehensive and waiting for her to blow up or scream.

“did you see where he was shot?” she asked finally, waiting for anyone to reply.

no one did, and after a moment of loud silence, she sniffed, her red brimmed eyes staring at penelope, “is he alive or dead, garcia?”

penelope stuttered, “i- i don’t know.”

“he was wearing a vest,” emily reassured, “he might be okay.”

jj scoffed, staring at her girlfriend, “might be,” she repeated bitterly.

one of the two missing from the group walked inside in a hurry, bad news no one needed from rossi’s mouth, “they’re not answering.”

jj stood up, shaking her head, “alright, we need to get inside.”

derek grabbed her arm gently, “it’s too risky, jj, we don’t have eyes inside anymore.”

jj’s eyes were wet as she looked up at hotch, pleading. “aaron...” she begged, and after a second, hotch nodded. “let’s go in.”

you all stood, walking outside.

not two minutes later, they called, just before you were about to go in.

“want to save the life of mister william lamontagne jr.? one medic that won’t pull the same shit the last one did, or else i’m killing them both.”

“we’re going in anyways,” derek pointed out, and emily nodded, “yeah, but the way we’re going in, it’s more likely the hostages and will won’t make it. if we send someone in, there’s a higher chance we can get them out.”

hotch was thinking, his forehead creasing as he stared at the paramedics. “we need an agent in there.”

“send me,” you said promptly, all eyes going on you. “i have medical training. i was an intern at the hospital before i decided i wanted to be a profiler. i can help him and i can take them down, hotch.”

“absolutely not- that would just be sending another agent in there for them to kill,” derek argued, but you ignored him, staring at hotch, “hotch.”

“l/n…”

“we don’t know how he’s doing, but chris just said we could send a medic in, i’m going to guess that isn’t a great sign. i can do it, i’m an agent, i’m capable, they haven’t seen me or heard my voice, i can fight well without a weapon, you know that.”

jj was staring at you, her fingers tangled with emily’s.

hotch was silent for a second, contemplating what you’d just said, “get your vest on,” he said finally, and you nodded, squeezing jj’s hand before putting said object on.

before going in, you grabbed morgan’s arm, pulling him aside. “i don’t know where spence is, and i’m really not sure what’s going on in there so, if anything happens-”

“y/n-”

“please.” you begged, and derek only nodded.

“if anything happens, my will is in my second drawer, tell him i love him and please don’t let him think it over too much.”

a voice that belonged to hotch interrupted you, “l/n!”

“i’m gonna be okay, tell him that. tell everyone that, okay?” you asked, and derek nodded,

you took a deep breath before walking over to hotch and grabbing your medical bag, double checking you had everything.

hotch had stood in the tent, behind you, only watching you from afar while you pulled on your vest straps, tightening it around your chest. you put on another shirt over it, leaving it invisible to anyone who wasn't looking close enough. you had smiled at hotch before beginning to leave, one of his hands wrapping around your arm and pulling you still.

“hey,” he said softly, “be careful.” you nodded, “yeah. of course.”

his hand loosened, and you sighed, walking away and towards the dreaded bank, arms up and medical bag hanging off your fingers.

the moment your fingers touched the door handle, you could just feel something was wrong, but you couldn’t risk anything- especially will and the hostage’s lives just because of a feeling.

so you pulled the door open, and stepped into the bank, eyes searching for will, who confirmed your bad feeling because he was sitting up, someone putting pressure on his wounds.

“what-”

“get inside! right now unless you want both him and you to die!”

you should’ve known it was a trap, you should’ve just listened to hotch and derek and stayed put, but you didn’t and now it was probable you were going to die.

will was fine, for the most part, he had a bullet wound to his shoulder, but he was up, talking to one of the hostages. you set your medical bag down, observing chris.

the woman had gone somewhere else, and you took the time she wasn’t there to try to communicate with her partner.

“chris,” you started, walking over to him. his gun was quickly raised at you, and you slowed to a stop, raising your hands. “i’m unarmed, as you requested, i’m just a medic.”

his hold on the gun wavered but it didn’t lower, “what?” he demanded, and you swallowed.

“you can’t trust her- the woman. she’s taking orders from someone else.”

chris shook his head, “she’s taking orders from me.”

you shrugged, “chris, take a look around you. when this place is stormed- and it will be stormed, they are going to take all the bad guys, but right, now, i only see one.”

chris looked away from you, and you heard will walk up behind you, “she’s setting you up to take the fall for this, boy.”

chris peered at him, “that’s not true.” he stated, “and how would you know?” he snapped, eyes staring back at yours, “aren’t you just a medic?”

you nodded, “they told me. the feds- they told me they found evidence of that. you can’t trust her.”

the answer seemed to please chris, and he shook his head again, “that’s not true,” he repeated, and you shrugged, trying to act natural, “then where is she?” you asked. chris pointed to his right, “she’s back there.”

you heard will hum from beside you, “huh.”

chris got up all of the sudden, pointing the gun at you and will. “alright, you both, come here. i’ll show you.”

you and will exchanged a look, and he gazed behind you at something you couldn’t see.

“go on,” chris urged, and you began to walk with will, almost falling when chris pushed your shoulder harshly.

you and will were ushered into one of the rooms of the bank, where a few black duffel bags were discarded on the floor. you dismissed them, too busy with the sensation of a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. the woman stepped out of a door, eyebrow raised as she studied at you.

“what the hell are you doing down here?” chris asked, pushing you and will aside to point his gun at the woman.

“calm down,” the woman responded calmly, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

chris didn't like her answer, shaking the gun, “tell me.” he demanded, and a sour look passed by the woman’s face.

what happened next was a blur. the woman muttered something to chris and he picked up the duffel bags, ushering you and will outside. you dropped the bracelet emiliano had made for you outside of the door- in the hope that someone of your team would find it- before you were pushed into the backseat of a car.

on the road, you looked around, trying to figure out where you were and making sure will was okay, while the woman- who you heard chris call izzy- played the recording of the bank on a loop in front of you. you pried your eyes away from the screen, instead trying to form a plan in your head.

“what the hell is that? you recorded it?” chris asked, but izzy didn’t look up, too preoccupied with the images on her tablet.

“i’m talking to you, izzy!” chris said, “you planned this whole thing,” he thought out loud, looking back at the road, “you didn’t tell us any of it, you set us up.”

izzy wasn’t paying any attention to him, but chris continued to talk, “you killed my brother.”

at this, izzy responded, but she still didn’t look at him, the gun in her other hand still pointed at you, “no, that would be him.” she stated, bored.

chris eyed at you and will from the rearview mirror. “how do i know they aren’t your partners?”

izzy watched you, “why would i work with them?” she questioned, and chris was getting increasingly frustrated, “why would you do any of this?”

izzy took her eyes off yours to turn to chris, who glanced at her. “fbi said you got somebody else.”

izzy smiled, “you sound jealous.”

chris raised a gun to her, “who is it?”

izzy rolled her eyes in response, “put that away. this isn’t about revenge, it’s about survival.”

a confused look passed over chris’ face, and izzy continued, “if you haven’t figured it out yet, i’m your only way out of this mess.”

chris moved the gun from her to will, “alright, let me kill them so we can get on with it.”

izzy shook her head, eyes drifting back to the tablet, “we need them.”

“why?”

izzy’s was now distracted by the video, replying distractedly. “leverage. we need to fix him up.”

“and how do you propose you do that?”

izzy shrugged, pointing at you, “she can do it.”

you shook your head, “i can’t, i don’t have my medical bag. and even if i did, i don’t have what i need to do anything.”

izzy was attentive at this, and she gave instructions to chris, driving to an unknown destination.

shit, you thought, staring at the outside of your window when the car pulled up to a fire department. you flinched when chris opened the door to your side and pulled you out, a gun held against your back. izzy did the same to will, standing behind the ambulance door and demanding the medic to fix will.

you were shoved to the wall, a gun against the side of your chest and a promise you would die if you moved whispered in your ear while will was getting fixed up. you only heard a gunshot when you were back in the car with will and chris, and you shared a look with will, fingers curling around the cushion of the car in frustration.

izzy was taking a call, the voice from the other line muffled, and you couldn’t make out who it was or what they were saying.

she gave a location when she hung up, but chris locked his jaw and rounded the corner harshly, parking the car.

“i’m not going anywhere until you tell me the plan,” chris declared, and within a second, izzy had moved the gun from you to chris, shooting him twice.

you flinched at the loud noise, looking from chris to izzy. “what are you doing?” will asked, and izzy shrugged, “he talks too much.”

“go ahead officer, get him out,” she ordered. “and do what, just leave him there?” will asked.

“yes please.”

she turned to you before will got out. “if you move an inch, i will kill him.”

you only nodded, staring at her as she motioned will to leave the car.

when chris was out, writhing on the floor, she glared at you. “you’re driving. get out.”

i can leave, but i can’t leave will here and she’ll shoot me for sure if i run. will can’t fight her right now. without a safe option, you agreed, eyeing will as he entered the backseat again, and you climbed where chris resided, only able to stare as izzy hastily cleaned the blood off the seat.

when you were inside, hands on the wheel, she pointed a gun at will, “go ahead. drive.”

so you did.

you stopped where she told you, watching in the rearview mirror as the hostage will had been talking to climbed in, patting will on the back. “hey will. you see that?”

“i want to do it again,” izzy smiled, watching the man- matthew as izzy referred to him. “we will,” he assured.

izzy turned back to you, “drive. you know the way.”

you glared at her, unmoving. she frowned, shoving the gun into your ribs, “drive,” she hissed. when you still didn’t react, she squeezed will’s gunshot wound, pushing the barrel on the side of his head. “or he dies.”

“drive,” matthew stated simply, and at the sight of izzy’s finger dancing around the trigger, you did.

you could only tighten the grip you had on the steering wheel when you parked in front of your mother’s house, already spotting her playing with emiliano on the lawn.

izzy was staring at you, admiring the frustration on your features, “come on, medic,” she urged, pointing the weapon at you again before putting it in her bag.

you opened the door of the car and walked out, forcing a smile on your face when izzy leaned up to your ear, “you better play nice, or i’ll kill them all.”

you picked up your son when he saw you and squealed, his little arms wrapping around you. you kissed his forehead, “hey bug, i gotta talk to grandma, how about you go back to playing?”

“okay, momma,” emiliano nodded, and you put him down, watching as he ran over to one of the play houses you brought for him.

“hey honey, what are you doing here? i thought you and spencer were supposed to come later?” your mom questioned, her eyes scanning over izzy.

“have you been watching the news?” you queried, and she shook her head, “i heard what happened on the radio, is spencer still working?”

you nodded, “yeah, i wanted you to go with molly because of everything that was going on.”

“are you sure? i can stay,” your mom assured, and you shook your head. “no, no, it’s dangerous right now, and i trust molly.”

your mom looked back at izzy, asking a question with her eyes. “this is izzy, one of the detectives, she’s going to watch over emi.”

“okay, are you sure?” she asked again, and you nodded, relieved you had set up a safe word with her and that she had remembered. she only glanced back at you and emi before she got into her car, “call me for anything.”

you didn’t respond, calling your son, “c’mon, emi, let’s go inside.”

emiliano skipped ahead, running into the house, past you and izzy, who had been surprisingly quiet.

you turned back to her quickly, “if you touch him, i will kill you,” you promised, and izzy didn’t flinch. “if you touch me, he kills will, then a certain spencer reid, then you. you wanna leave your kid an orphan? be my guest.”

you clenched your jaw, glaring at izzy until emiliano ran up to you, tugging on your arm.

“momma, can we watch a movie?”

you took a deep breath and crouched down to him, offering your son a smile as you shook your head, “i can’t, not right now, bug, i have to work, so you’re going to stay with izzy and play with her for now, okay?”

emiliano nodded, and you kissed his head, assuring yourself you would not lose him, and he wouldn’t lose you. “i love you, bug, daddy and i will see you soon.”

emiliano smiled at you and planted a kiss on your cheek, giving you one more squeeze before you straightened up, staring at izzy for a second.

you walked out, hands trembling as you climbed back into the car, wanting more than anything to run back inside and take your son to his father, where you knew he'd be safe. but it wasn't an option right now. because right now, you had to leave your baby with a serial killer and you had to go sit in the car with another one.

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 3 years

Note

I was wondering if you'd consider doing a Hotch x plus size reader? Totally fine if you're not up for it! I have this idea where the reader is a tech person like Penelope & she's around the same age. On a number of occasions she'll stay later to finish her work and it's only her & Hotch left. So she starts this cute little friendship where she'll make him coffee before she leaves. That turns into a crush, then she begins to avoiding him cuz she's shy, then he confronts her saying her likes her.

Late Nights

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x PLUS!Reader

Warnings: None

WOWWW this is a long one hope you guys enjoy it 🤗💜

MASTERLIST

-----

“You know, working this late should be against the law for single parents” walking in Hotch’s office I shut the door behind me

“You’re working late again?” he looked up from the file on his desk smiling at me

“My stupid systems chose today of all days to act up, I had to upgrade the software and all the fun stuff” placing the extra coffee cup on his desk I plopped down in the chair opposite me

“It’s taking a while to get back online but hopefully I’ll be out of here in the next hour or so”

For the past couple weeks Hotch had been working late nights and I thought that I’d stay back also in case he needed someone to talk too. As a profiler he sees and deals with a lot of gruesome things that would keep a normal person up all night. At first it was innocent, I’d pop in to check in on him to distract him for a bit or make him his coffee when he insists on staying in the office later than usual but as we grew closer he started opening up more to me. He started talking about the things they saw and did on the case the team had worked on and then we started talking more about Jack and how he’s doing at school, more personal topics

“I know I’m not the most open when it comes to expressing feelings but I just want to say thank you” Aaron took a sip of his coffee before placing the cup down, eyes glued to my frame

“What are you thanking me for?” he smiled and I couldn’t help but swoon a bit. Aaron doesn’t smile much or show us his soft side so it’s nice to see him this relaxed around me

“For being a friend, for working late nights with me and all the coffee” my stomach fluttered as he went on

“The coffee is good” chuckling I brought my cup to my lips and took a sip in order to help hide the blush that heated up my cheeks

“It is, oh I forgot to ask you, Jack has a soccer game this weekend and he insisted that I asked you to be there” he fiddled with his fingers waiting for my reaction

“Of course, I’ll be there”

------

“Of course, I’ll be there. That’s what I told him, oh God what if I’m reading into this too much”

I’m currently pacing the floor of Penelope’s bat cave as we waited for the coroner’s report to come in. My phone buzzed for the tenth time today, looking down at the screen I sighed letting it go to voicemail

“Hotch again? You know he doesn’t smile nor opens up so easily to anyone besides you, I wouldn’t be surprised if he likes you” Penelope got cut off by the ringing phone on her desk

“Speak and be heard oh mighty one”

“Garcia I need you to dig deeper into our victims background” Hotch’s voice filled the room and I immediately sat down

“Sure, anything specific I’m looking for sir?” she started tapping away at her keyboard doing exactly what he said

“We need to find the connection between all three of them”

“Okay sir, I’ll call you back when I have something”

“Penelope wait, don’t hang up” she paused with her finger over the end button looking over at me

“Is Y/N with you?” I frantically motioned for her to say no and thankfully she caught on

“No sir, want me to pass on a message?”

“No, no, uh thanks Garcia” he sounded so defeated and that only made me feel even more guilty. For the past three days I’ve been avoiding Aaron for as much as I could ever since the night in his office, I realized that I was setting myself up for heartbreak. The call ended and she glared at me

“You are hurting that man”

“I know and I feel terrible but I need to put some distance between the both of us”

“He’s in Nevada with the team right now how much more distance do you want?” she deadpanned looking me in the eyes

“It’s complicated alright”

“It really isn’t” she turned back to her set and started working on the case ending our conversation

-----

“Welcome back my heroes!”

Garcia held a box of cupcakes up welcoming the team back as they stepped off the elevator. I stood a few feet behind her smiling at them as they grabbed a cake and filled into the bullpen. I was about to follow behind them when a hand held on to my wrist keeping me in place

“Is everything alright?”

Aaron

“Yeah, everything’s fine, why would they be?” I started rambling removing my hand from his hold, avoiding his gaze

“You say that but I don’t believe you, let’s talk in my office” he opened the door for me and we headed straight to his office. I saw Penelope shoot me a small smile before I entered the room. I took a seat on the sofa as he moved to his desk.

Aaron dropped his go bag on his desk and removed his jacket before joining me on the sofa. He stared into my eyes trying to get a sense of what’s going on, profiling me

“Is there a reason why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you sir” I couldn’t help but pick at my fingernails as nervousness washed over me

“Sir? Y/N, it’s just the two of us and yes, you haven’t even returned any of my calls or texts” I wrecked my brain trying to come up with an excuse but I couldn’t

“I know that there isn’t any other way to say this but, the other night when we were in here I had to tell you something but I didn’t know how you were going to take it, I still don’t-” he rambled scratching the back of his neck

“Aaron” placing my hand on his knee I cut him off, he took my small hand in his gently brushing the back of my hand using his thumb

“I like you” he blurted and I froze, my heartrate sped up the longer we sat here staring at each other

Say something idiot!

“Why me?”

Dear God, you should’ve stayed quiet

“What do you mean why you?”

“I’m not your type Aaron”

“What’s my type then?”

“Someone like Emily, brave, courageous, can actually shoot to save herself, skinny, gorgeous” I mumbled the last two hoping he didn’t hear them but he did

“You don’t have to be skinny to be gorgeous and besides, you are perfect, you’re funny, sweet, caring, determined, charismatic, I could go on” he smiled giving my hand a gentle squeeze as we held each other’s gaze

“Most importantly, you make me feel safe” my breathing hitched as we sat here, neither one of us wanting to break the moment

“I like you too Aaron”

------

The referee blew the whistle ending the soccer match and Jack jumped with glee with his team as they were the winners. I cheered and clapped happy for the little boy who scored one of the winning goals as he ran directly to his father. Smiling I made my way over to the Hotchner boys and Jack broke free from Aaron’s arms and rushed over to me

“Good job buddy, you did so great!” wrapping my arms around the child I kissed the top of his head

“Did you see me score?” he pulled back enough to look up at me and I cupped his flushed cheeks in my palms

“I did and that was an excellent bicycle kick”

“Jack!” one of his teammates called him over for a group photo and he ran off. A pair of arms snaked around my waist pulling me flush against the owner, Aaron

“You did great with them” spinning around I wrapped my arms around his middle

“I did the best I could with a group of ten year olds”

“Thanks for coming it means a lot to me and I know it does to him too”

“No need to thank me, I had a good time listening to chatty Cathy to your left go on about how hot you look in those shorts” he laughed pulling me in closer to him

“Join us for dinner tonight, it’s been a while since he’s seen you and it’ll be good to have you around more”

“Sounds like a plan” pushing myself upwards I kissed him and he immediately responded. I swear I was about to explode from the electricity that flowed through my body from having his lips on mine

We were so wrapped up in our moment that we had forgotten about the crowd of people that surrounded us until they started wolf whistling and cheering us on. Breaking apart my face became heated from the blush that overtook my cheeks. Aaron looked down at me with a boyish grin clearly enjoying the moment

“How’s that for our first kiss?”

“Not quite what I was expecting”

“C’mon let’s head back to my place” taking my hand in his he called out to his son and we headed to his car. The both of them quickly fell into conversation and I must admit, seeing Hotch domesticated has got to be the hottest thing ever

The bond that these two have is very special and I can’t wait to share more moments like this with them

------

HEY GUYS PSA!! If any of you lovely readers would love to tagged in my fics let me know and I’ll gladly add you to the list ❤️

Tag list:

@calm-and-doctor

#criminal minds #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaronhotchnerimagine #aaron hotchner x plus reader

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softtransbf · 3 years

Text

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

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

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit.

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

#spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #otp: pretty boys

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babybluebex · 4 years

Text

it takes two [peter parker]

➽ pairing: peter parker x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 3.0k ➽ summary: an accidental discovery leads peter and you to discuss poly-nylons, tony stark, and aunt may’s burnt meatloaf. ➽ warnings: awkward teenage feels, fluff, all that good stuff ➽ a/n: nerdy little peter melts my heart uwu. enjoy!

“Hey, Y/N. Y/N!”

I turned to see Peter fumbling with his books, and I extended my arms to catch them. “Hey, Pete,” I chuckled. I looked at one of the books in my hand and saw the official autobiography of tech giant Tony Stark, and I laughed. “We get it, man, you’re in love with Tony Stark.”

“I’m not,” Peter said quickly. “Just wanna read up on my boss.”

“Right,” I said with a click of my tongue. “The whole internship thing. That seems like a pretty sweet gig, Pete.”

“It’s…” Peter began and nodded. “It’s alright.”

“What do you actually do?” I asked, placing the biography of Peter’s one true love back on his stack of books. “Do you do paperwork? Or Mr. Stark’s laundry?”

That elicited a laugh out of Peter. Peter Parker and I had been friends for a while, since we were lab partners in eighth grade biology, and I had been one of the first people he told about the internship. As excited as he was to get it, though, he never really talked too much about it. “I do…” He began. “Um… Stuff.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I’m asking,” I said, shouldering my backpack. “What kinda stuff?”

“This and that,” Peter shrugged. “Sorta whatever needs to be done.”

I nodded slowly. “Uh-huh,” I responded. “Well, since you’re not gonna tell me, I’ll tell you some big news.”

“Sure,” Peter said. “What is it?”

“I got an interview for MIT,” I grinned, and joy overcame Peter’s face. His arms instinctually went out to hug me, but his stack of books went tumbling to the ground around us. He paid it no mind and hugged me tightly anyway, rocking us as he embraced me. Peter gave amazing hugs; that’s one thing nearly everyone can agree on.

“That’s awesome, Y/N!” Peter exclaimed. “When is it?”

“Friday evening,” I said. “And I’m freaking out really bad. Do you think you could help me prep?”

Peter had already bent down and begun to retrieve his books. “Why me?” He asked. “A-Ask Flash, he’s on the debate team.”

“Because I don’t want to ask Flash,” I sighed. “I want to ask you. God, Pete, you got an internship with Stark Industries! Why wouldn’t I ask for your help with interviews? I mean, I assume there was an interview process…”

“Um, sorta,” Peter said. “Yeah, yep, there was.”

My eyes narrowed. “What was that turn around?” I asked. “‘Sorta’ an interview, but also yes?”

“It wasn’t a, uh, a typical interview,” Peter said. “I met Mr. Stark’s head of security before him.”

“Wait, hold on!” I cried. “You’ve met Tony Stark?”

“I told you about this!” Peter smiled. “We went on that company retreat!”

“Th-The one to Berlin?” I asked. “You met Tony freaking Stark in Berlin? How’d I not know this, Peter?”

“I remember telling you,” Peter said. “I missed those days, and I texted you asking about homework, and you told me we had a test and asked how the retreat was, and I said that it was awesome and I met Tony Stark.”

“I don’t remember that,” I said. “But come on, Petey! Please help me prep for this interview, MIT is my dream school!” I grasped his arm and pouted at him, and I said, “For me?”

Peter rolled his eyes jokingly. “Sure,” He said with a smile, as sincere as always. “Just come by tonight, I’ll get Aunt May to order a pizza or something and we’ll work it out.”

I hugged Peter tightly. “Thank you!” I giggled. “Hey, save me a seat at lunch, yeah?”

“Umm, Ned’s brought a few pieces of his Death Star,” Peter began. “It might take up a lot of space.”

“I’ll help,” I said. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“S-Sure,” Peter said, the tips of his ears turning pink. “We could use your smaller hands for some of the more intricate parts of the build.”

“Great,” I said as the bell rang long and high for classes to start. “Crap. I’ll see ya, Pete!”

The day passed as slowly as any normal school day would. I didn’t have a math club meeting that afternoon on account of our faculty sponsor being sick, so I was able to go home before I went to Peter’s. I gathered all of my MIT stuff from my desk and shoved it into my bag, and I opened my computer for a minute before my mom inevitably made me come to the living room. Twitter was already open (I didn’t pay great attention during last period physics), and I clicked around the trending page for a moment before seeing, at the very bottom of the list of trending topics, something called the “Man-Spider”. It wasn’t being talked about too much, but it was a trending topic in my area; knowing that someone would probably ask about it at school tomorrow, I clicked on it.

It was a shaky phone video of a man in a blue and red suit on the rooftop of a building that was adjacent to the videographer. “Hey, you’re that Man-Spider from YouTube!” the videographer yelled.

“Call me Spiderman!” The suited man replied back, his voice echoing around the street.

“Okay! Do a flip, Spiderman!”

The so-called Spiderman flipped backwards, eliciting a whoop from the videographer. The video ended there, and I huffed out a quiet laugh. Peter was really into gymnastics; he would like this video. I tagged him, @pparker101, figuring that he would watch it before I got to his place.

When I finally got myself up and made my way across the borough to Peter and his Aunt May’s apartment, May answered the door. She was a tall and thin woman with long hair that she usually pulled up, and she smiled when she saw me. “Aw, hey, Miss Y/N,” May said. “What’s going on?”

“Peter’s helping me with an interview thing tonight,” I said. “Is that alright?”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course,” May said, waving her hand around. “Where are you interviewing?”

“MIT,” I replied. “The actual interview is on Friday, but, since he’s got that internship with Stark Industries, I figured he would help me prepare.”

“Oh, good job,” May said. “Yeah, Pete popped out to get a sandwich, but you’re welcome to wait for him. Are you hungry? I’m making meatloaf.”

I had known May for long enough to know that it was safest to skip out on the meatloaf. “Oh, I’m alright,” I told her. “I ate before I came.”

“If you change your mind…” May sang and scrunched her nose at me as she smiled. “Pete said that you helped him and Ned with their Death Star build today; how was that?”

“Pretty great,” I smiled. “It was a lot of pieces and we’re not finished yet, but all working together was pretty sweet.”

“I bet,” May replied. “All of you are so smart, I could never do that, even with instructions.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out to see Peter replying to me on Twitter with a simple :). “Thanks, May,” I said. “Um, I think I’m gonna go set up in Peter’s room.”

“Alright, Miss Y/N,” May said and gave me a quick hug. “Have fun.”

Peter’s room was messy as always, discarded projects all over the place, and laundry piled in the corner of his bottom bunk. I sat down on the edge of the bottom bunk and started to extract my papers and things to practice, but there was a weird sound from behind me. It was quiet and I almost missed it, but the cool breeze that hit my shoulder helped alert me to the fact that the window was open. I turned over my shoulder, expecting to see the widow accidentally unlatched and opening, but instead I saw something completely different: my best friend crawling on the ceiling.

I couldn’t form words. I wasn’t convinced that I was actually seeing what was happening. Peter was attached upside down to his ceiling, wearing a weird onesie-looking outfit with alternating red and blue panels. He was quiet as he crawled to the other side of the room, and he extended his hand, his middle two fingers and thumb folded into his palm, and a string of white shot from his wrist and attached to the corner of the door. Peter tugged the door closed with ease, as if he had done it before, then he expertly flipped from the ceiling and landed on the carpet with the grace of an Olympic gymnast. His back was to me, but, now that I saw him better, I saw that he wore the exact same outfit that the Man-Spider wore in the Twitter video.

“Holy shit, are you the Man-Spider?” I cried, and Peter flinched. He turned to me, his face stricken with panic, and I saw a black arachnid symbol in the middle of his chest. “You are! Holy shit, Peter--”

“Dude, shut up!” Peter hissed quickly. His hand came up to his chest and he pressed on the spider symbol, and the tight suit loosened and fell off of his body. “I-I’m not the Man-Spider--”

“Spiderman!” I recalled from the video. “Peter, what the actual fuck--”

“Shut up!” Peter pleaded, rushing to me and pressing his hand against my mouth. He was right on top of me, his chest nearly touching mine with each breath, and his dark eyes were wide at me. “Y/N, you… You can’t tell anyone. Please!”

I shifted my head in order to remove his hand. “Are you serious…” I began. “You’re Spiderman? Wait, how did this happen? Was it the Stark internship, did Tony Stark do this to you?”

“I’ll explain everything,” Peter whispered. “Just, you really cannot tell anyone.”

“Does May know?” I asked quickly.

“Are you kidding me?” Peter scoffed. He reached down and grabbed a shirt and began to dress himself; I had noticed that, after the suit came off, he was only in boxers, but I figured that it was better not to say anything. “If she knew, she’d go ballistic.”

I sighed heavily and sat down on the bed once more. “Make this make sense,” I groaned, pressing my head into my hands. “Did this happen to you? Did you make it happen? Is this a Bruce Banner thing?”

“No,” Peter said quickly, and he sat down next to me. “Look, it’s a really long story, but the basics are that I was bitten by a radioactive spider and now I can do weird things. Like, things I never was able to do before. I’m really strong now, Y/N, and I just… I can do that.” He said and pointed to the ceiling. “But Tony Stark found out about me somehow and he tapped me to help him in some sort of weird fight with him and Captain America. He made me that suit! It’s really cool!”

“It is!” I said quickly. “So, are you, like, an Avenger now? Is that what the Stark internship is?”

Peter paused for a moment, and his cheeks turned pink. “Yeah, I mean…” He started. “Basically, yeah, I’m an Avenger.”

“Oh my God,” I laughed. “That’s awesome, Peter! But… Why would you keep this from me?” There was no point disguising the hurt in my voice. That was it, plain and simple. “I thought we told each other everything.”

“We do,” Peter said. “I just… Mr. Stark told me to keep this a secret. He said that anyone who knew could be in danger. I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. The secrecy hurt and it wouldn’t stop for a while, but my excitement overshadowed that. “This is super cool, Peter,” I laughed. “So, the thing you just shot, do you-- Like, does your body make that? Like a spider? Was that a web?”

“Yeah, it’s a web,” Peter smiled widely. “But my body doesn’t make them. That would be super gross.”

“Sorta, yeah,” I agreed.

“Nah, it’s, uh,” Peter began and rushed over to the forgotten suit on the floor. “It’s a poly-nylon substance that’s loaded in these web shooters that Mr. Stark made me. They’re super strong and take three hours to fully dissolve. They come out of this shooter that I wear on my wrist.” He lifted up the silver web shooter to show me, and I grinned at it.

“That’s awesome,” I chuckled. “Wait, does Ned know?”

“No,” Peter said quickly.

“MJ?”

“No.”

“Liz? Betty? Flash?”

“You’re the only one,” Peter reiterated. “Nobody else knows. Mr. Stark, Happy, Pepper, everyone at SHIELD, and you. You’re the only outsider.”

“This is…” I began. “This is really cool, don’t get me wrong, but isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I mean… Yeah. Everytime I go on a mission, I’m not really sure if I’m coming back.”

I sighed and rubbed my neck. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Petey,” I started. “But I really don’t like this. The idea of my best friend being an Avenger is super cool, but it’s scary as shit. I can’t lose you, Pete. Nobody gets me like you do, and I don’t know what I’d do if you died and I didn’t know why.”

Peter was quiet as he came back to sit down next to me, his web shooter still in his hand. He toyed with it for a moment, then placed it in my lap. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Pete, you didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “You were doing what you were told was right. If anything, Tony Stark needs to apologize to me.”

Peter scoffed. “Good luck with that,” he said. “You’re cool. Ya know that?”

“Me?” I chuckled. “You’re freaking Spiderman, dude! You’re cooler than everyone at Midtown! So, is Peter Parker, like, your alter ego? Like Batman?”

“Batman isn’t real,” Peter said pointedly.

“The point stands, ass,” I said and shoved his shoulder, eliciting a laugh from him.. “By day, you’re a nerdy high school student and, by night, you’re an Avenger?”

“Sorta,” Peter shrugged sheepishly. “I guess, I mean… Not to brag, but--”

“Brag away!” I said.

“I’m supposed to be helping you with your interview,” Peter began. “I think maybe we can table this until later. Yeah?”

“Fine,” I said with a pout. “Let me get my stuff…”

I turned to retrieve my papers and everything that I had brought, and Peter’s hand returned to my lap to grab the web shooter. The fates, though, decided to throw a wrench into our casual moment, because the ajar door burst open to show May. Before I knew what was happening, Peter had shoved the web shooter down between my thighs in an attempt to quickly hide it, and he pressed his lips to mine. I caught on instantly; his hand between my legs only made sense if we were kissing. It was an easy cover up, something to get May out of the room, and-- honestly-- probably something that May had been suspecting all along.

“Oh!” She exclaimed and backed out of the room, and Peter gave me a tight grimace. I could almost hear him stuttering out an apology. “Sorry, guys! I didn’t mean to--”

“That’s about my luck, huh?” Peter said loudly and laughed. “It’s-- Ah, shit-- Sorry, May!”

“No, don’t be sorry,” May said from behind the door. Peter pulled the web shooter from between my legs and grabbed his suit, and he shoved them under the blankets behind me. “Don’t let me interrupt... Whatever that was. Peter, please remember to use a--”

“May, hush!” Peter cried, and I saw genuine embarrassment rise in his cheeks. “We’re not-- We weren’t--”

“We were just kissing, May!” I said quickly. “Nothing else!”

“Right,” May said. “Have fun. Meatloaf’s burnt, so, if you guys want something to eat, we can get Thai. Or you two can get Thai and I’ll stay here--”

“May!” Peter groaned.

“Right, I’ll leave you two alone,” May said, and Peter and I held our breath until we were sure she wasn’t at the door anymore.

“God, sorry, Y/N,” Peter mumbled, pushing his hair out of his face. “It’s the only thing I could think of--”

“No big,” I said. “But I’m sure May thinks we’re dating now.”

“She’s thought that since eighth grade,” Peter said and rolled his eyes. “Now she has ‘proof’.”

“I mean…” I started. Too late to go back now. “I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought of it before.”

“Us dating?” Peter asked.

“I know you like Liz and MJ, so it’s always been…” I started. “Never mind.”

“Sure, I like Liz and MJ,” Peter said. “But I like you too. Like, in a different way than I like Liz and MJ.”

“Like, in a girlfriend way?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said. He was looking down at his lap, obviously abashed and not wanting to look at me. “You’re really funny and smart, and you’re super pretty… Mr. Stark thinks you’re cute too.”

“Tony Stark knows about me?” I asked. “He thinks I’m cute?”

“N-Not in a creepy way,” Peter said quickly. “When I went to Berlin, I brought a picture of you in my luggage, and Mr. Stark-- Well, Happy found it and he told Mr. Stark, and he said that you were pretty… Encouraged me to ask you out… Gave me… Ahem, pointers on how to ask you out.”

“Really?” I grinned. This was amusing to find out. Tony Stark knew who I was. That was almost as cool as finding out my best friend was an Avenger. “What’d he say?”

“Some really gross stuff, to be honest,” Peter chuckled. “Nothing I’d ever say to you, not even jokingly. But… Whatever. Anyway. MIT interview--”

I leaned in towards Peter and kissed him again, and I felt his smile against my lips. He kissed me back, his arms wrapping around me and tugging me close, and, when the kiss broke, I whispered, “So, does Spiderman have a girlfriend?”

“I’m sure he can get one if he wants to,” Peter said.

“Does he want to?” I asked.

“Duh!”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x bestfriend!reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #mcu #sm:hoco #sm:ffh #ca:cw #avengers #i miss tony stark #q

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hold-our-destiny · 3 years

Text

5 times tony comforted Peter and the one time Peter comforted Tony

This is for @bluesweatshirt for the friendly neighborhood exchange!

(also i’m really sorry i couldn’t add in a cut off on mobile)

________________

Peter wasn't a sad person.

He wasn't too sad when his parents didn't come home from their business trip. Yeah, he was sad when Ben died- he died in front of him for god’s sake- but he didn’t show it, he sucked it up and helped May with the new struggles with money.

Peter wasn't sad, no. He was tired though.

God, he was so tired.

It had been two weeks since homecoming night and Peter was catering between not being able to sleep at all and waking up every night from nightmares.

This night was different, though.

Because for some reason… Mr Stark was in his nightmare.

It was never anyone but peter. Always Peter stuck under rubble, falling from a plane, stuck in the fire. Never anyone else so why now would it be Mr Stark?

That wasn’t exactly the first thought on his mind when he woke up.

___________

Peter woke up with a start, breath stuck in his chest, tears already escaping his eyes.

He threw the covers off him, needing to be free from the confines, before reaching for his phone.

He’s hurt, mr stark’s hurt and he can't help him- oh god he can't save him-

“Hello?” Mr Stark’s groggy voice shook him out of his thoughts.

“Mr Stark?” Peter asked, almost scared for any reply.

“Pete? You okay?” His mentor’s voice took on a new tone. Worry mixed with… something.

“Yeah, sorry, i just- I’m sorry for waking you- I’ll hang up now-”

“Peter. Are you okay?” The question made him want to cry, made him want to curl up and let it all out with how safe it made Peter feel.

“Yeah I’m-” he took a breath, “I’m fine,”

He could tell the billionaire knew he wasn’t, “Okay, well you might as well help me anyway,”

“Help you?”

“Yeah, i've been up for hours trying to figure this problem out,�� He lied.

“O-okay”

The mechanic explained the problem to him, Peter letting the words wash over him, breathing through the explanation. He pretended not to notice when Mr Stark didn't ask for his thoughts, when he reminded him to breathe every now and then, just letting his words soothe the kid from the evident panic attack he’d just gone through.

God, he was so out of his element.

Maybe this was a good thing- maybe it was good for him to comfort this kid- this kid who he barely knew. Just for tonight, only tonight.

Tony was tired. No, scratch that- he was fucking exhausted.

He was pretty much ready to drop on that wednesday, ready to curl up in his king size bed and sleep for 16 hours straight.

And yeah, maybe he forgot it was lab day.

Peter walked- more like stumbled- through the lab doors, somehow racing and also shuffling to his seat, dropping his bag with a thud and sitting in his chair in almost the same manner.

Peter’s hair was messy, curls more unruly than usual, and Tony would bet that if he could see the kid’s eyes, they wouldn’t look healthy.

“Hey kid,”

No answer.

“You okay?”

A delay, then a slight nod. Peter still hadn’t put anything in front of him, just simply sitting at the desk.

“You wanna skip lab day today?”

Peter’s head shot up, eyes wide and concerned. And yeah, Tony was right, he had dark bags under his eyes.

“What? Is something wrong? Do you need me to leave?” Tony raised a hand to stop him.

“No- no- I mean more like…” He didn’t know how he was going to say this, “I’m pretty tired right now, do you wanna just order a pizza and chill out on the couch?”

Peter looked at him suspiciously, before nodding, already getting up and heading to the other room.

Yeah, tony thought to himself, you’re doing okay

______--

Peter was passed out on the couch within 5 minutes, remote laying in his limp hand and head lolled to the side awkwardly.

Tony brought the pizza in, setting the boxes down on the coffee table and gently shook Peter awake.

“Hey, kid,” He whispered as Peter woke up, matching the tone to the dark room, “You wanna have something to eat? Or at least get into more of a comfortable position,”

Peter nodded groggily, sitting up so Tony could sit next to him, legs touching as Peter moved closer. Tony raised his arm up and around the back of the couch, resting on the teenager’s shoulders and allowing him to relax into the billionaire.

Tony put a random star wars film on the tv, letting it drift into background noise as the kid fell asleep next to him.

For years, Tony had been scared of fucking a future kid up, becoming his father and eventually pushing everyone away. Somehow, now, his fears have receded, his mind reassuring him repeatedly.

He trusts you. You’re doing okay.

Peter woke up under rubble.

No, no, this wasn’t a nightmare. The air was too thick, dust invading his airways. He choked on it as he took a breath. It was too dark, way too dark, the rocks were crushing him, piercing his skin in multiple places. He groaned with the weight, reaching for his watch instinctively.

He pressed the side button three times, letting red light illuminate his surroundings and trying to breathe with the rubble pushing down on his chest.

His watch lit up blue, and Tony’s voice started speaking through it.

“Peter? Pete- you there?”

“Y-yeah I’m here” He choked out, a waver in his voice.

“Okay, how are you feeling, kid?”

“I- The rubble- it’s crushing me- i can’t-” His breath started to speed up at the reminder, panic invading his senses.

“Kid- kid! You gotta calm down, okay? We’re getting you out now, i promise- we’re gunna get you out real soon- but you gotta calm down for us to do that, okay?”

Peter made an affirmative noise, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breaths. His memories were resurfacing much quicker than he could cope with and Tony’s voice was only helping slightly. Peter didn’t know what he was saying, letting the noises meld together in his mind as he calmed himself.

After a few minutes- or hours, he didn’t know- he’d calmed down somewhat, finally able to focus on the voice coming out of his watch.

“We’re getting you out of there now, kid. You’re doing so good for me, Pete- just keep breathing for me, okay?”

With the panic receding now, Peter was much more aware of his surroundings. He was also aware of the fact that his brain was slowing down, unable to process things as quickly as he normally could. There was a reason for that in the back of his mind but he couldn’t reach it.

There was something wet underneath him, soaking up into his clothes, he didn’t like that. He wanted to move away from it but only made it hurt worse when he tried- he cried out in pain.

“T-tony!”

There was a scuffle on the other end of the line- “Yeah, pete? You okay?- what’s happening?”

“T’ny- t- tony! T’y please- g’t me out- please- please- i- i can’t-”

“Peter- what’s happening?”

“H’rts- my- my chest- there’s- it’s-” The panic was back now, confusing him even more than before, “S’mthing- und’r- something wet- under me- t’ny please-”

“Shit- Peter- Pete- breathe, okay kid? Breathe for me. We’re gunna help you,”

Peter took a breath, then another, and another, steadying his heart before whimpering when the rubble shifted, “Kid, we’ve almost got you. I need you to stay awake, okay? We’re gonna get to you soon but you gotta stay awake so you can tell us if we move the wrong thing, okay?”

Peter made an affirmative noise again, wanting nothing more than to move away from the pain, but listening to Tony.

Tony talked again a while later, surprising Peter when he did.

“Pete? You still awake for me, bud?”

“Y-yeah im- im here,”

He heard Tony breathe out slowly, “That’s good, Pete. We’re only a few feet away from you, but the next thing we’re going to move is gunna shift some stuff, okay? Tell us if it hurts you, okay, kid?”

“Okay- I’ll tell y’u”

He waited a few seconds, hearing some movement to his side, before the rubble shifted and his legs screamed in pain. He only let out a grunt, not wanting to stop the team’s efforts, and only a moment passed before he saw his father figure knelt down beside his head, cradling it with one hand. He smiled up at him.

“T-tony-” He sobbed.

Tony nodded, “Yeah, yeah, kid, i’m here now. Sorry we couldn’t get to you sooner but I got you now, i promise. You did so good for me, bud,”

“Good?” Peter’s eyes were closing now, relishing in the relief of pain after hours of panic.

“So good, kid. I’m so proud of you for staying calm. You can sleep now, okay? Let us do the rest.”

He smiled up at his mentor again, letting his eyes close and his body relaxed as his mind gave in to the not-so-distant pull of sleep.

Tony woke up that morning to a call from midtown tech.

Of course, he was confused as to why Peter’s school would call him at midday on a random tuesday.

“Is this Tony Stark?” The caller sounded dubious- doubtful.

“Yes, it is,”

“This is Julia calling from midtown tech. Are you the emergency contact for Peter Parker?”

“One of them, yes,”

“Would you be able to pick Peter up soon?” Tony was already getting some more presentable clothes on, worried as hell.

“Yes, of course. Can I ask why?”

“To be completely honest with you, Mr Stark, I don't even know. There’s a police officer in there with him right now, and that’s all i know.”

Tony froze. A police officer could only mean two things, and Tony didn’t like either option.

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” And with that, he hung up.

Peter practically fell into his arms when he walked into the office. Tony instinctively went to cradle the back of his head as he processed everything that was happening. One of those things being that Peter was crying.

Peter was crying.

He wrapped his arms around the teenager more firmly as the police officer stepped toward them.

“Mr Stark, I’m officer Langford,” Tony nodded curtly towards him, waiting for an explanation.

“You may want to sit down for this,”

It took some time for Tony to maneuver Peter into a more comfortable position on the couch in the corner, the kid not wanting his mentor to see his face- in fear?- but they got there in the end.

The officer sat down in a chair opposite them, “I’m sorry to tell you this but this morning May Parker was involved in a car accident, she was rushed to the hospital but unfortunately, she was pronounced dead on arrival-” Peter held him slightly tighter, “We called you here because you were Peter’s second emergency contact, and in situations like these, we need a temporary home for him. If you agree, you can take him home now, and if not we can move him to a separate-” Tony held a hand up to cut him off.

He moved the hand back down to rub across Peter’s back, meant to be a soothing gesture but somehow made him more tense.

“I’ll take him now, and i can sort out the paperwork for a… longer arrangement soon,” Officer Langford nodded before wishing them well and leaving, but Tony didn’t pay any notice, his mind too caught up in what just happened.

It wasn’t caught up in May’s death, somehow in the back of his mind, he knew, he knew that police officers didn’t just show up at a kid’s school for no reason. He wouldn’t have been called if it was anything else.

No, it wasn’t caught up with that.

It was caught up with the fact that Peter- his kid, his Peter- upon hearing Tony’s agreement to take him in- he lost all tension in his body. As if he was relieved, as if he feared Tony would leave him, as if he would abandon the kid he’s grown so close to lately.

Tony couldn’t process it.

“Hey, kiddo, can you look at me please?” Peter minutely shook his head, burrowing into Tony’s shirt even closer than before. His tears had long since stopped, now just seeking comfort from the billionaire.

“We’ve gotta be clear about some stuff, okay, bud? Just a few minutes and then we can go back to whatever this is,” Tony wasn’t good at this.

But, still, Peter pulled back from their embrace, head turned down towards his legs.

“Kid-” Tony was stuck for words, “i want you to know that you can stay with me for as long as you like, okay? If it’s just for this week, for a while or if it’s for the rest of your life, okay? I need you to understand that i’m going to stick with you through all of it, anything you need from me, I’ll get it for you,” He took a breath, “You’re not alone in this,”

Peter crumpled.

As if against his own command, his body surged forward, arms clumsily reaching for his father figure, breaths coming through as gasps, head still downturned.

But still, Tony caught him.

__________

Tony took Peter back to the tower, he set him up in his room, gave him food and sent him to bed. He figured they’d deal with talking about it tomorrow, after some good sleep and a long fucking think about how Tony feels about this kid.

That went to shit at around 4am.

Tony was up on his feet before he could process the scream, legs rushing him to the only inhabited room on his floor. Pushing the door open and hoping for the worst.

He really didn’t expect to see Peter in the corner, bed sheets crumpled around his feet, breaths barely present.

He kneeled down a few feet away, unsure about whether Peter needed him close or not. But upon seeing the kid reach out a trembling hand towards him, he surged forward, pulling the teenager into his arms.

“It’s okay, whatever it is, it’s okay, we’re safe. I’ve got you.” He repeated in hushed whispers, rocking the two of them back and forth.

It was only a few minutes later when Peter responded to him, breathing normally now, hand clutching his mentor’s shirt as he mumbled into his chest.

“Couldn’t- couldn’t save y’u- i- i can’- can’t do i’- pl’se t’ny-”

Tony hushed him.

Peter repeated the mantra for another- god, tony didn’t know how long- until tony was finally able to hush him. The billionaire carefully picked him up, walking him the few feet over to the bed and laying him down in it.

Tony hesitated by the door, before hushing his brain of all negative thoughts, turning off the light and retreating back into the teenager’s bedroom. He climbed into the bed with the kid, curling up next to him- relieved when Peter immediately turned to cling to his chest.

Slowly, he fell asleep.

To say Peter was worried about this mission was an understatement. Him and Tony were going undercover together and honestly… it was already awkward.

The thing is, Peter wouldn’t have any trouble going undercover normally but now, they were going in as father and son.

There was this guy- this villain they’d started calling the ‘poisoner’- who was targeting father and son couples, poisoning the son and leaving the father with the body until they were found. They’d tried everything to arrest the guy but… he kept getting away- going undercover was the only option- the last ditch attempt before the avengers started knocking on doors.

It was weird how Peter was more scared to act like Toy was his dad, when he could actually die if the other guy got the upper hand.

_______________

They were sat in the hotel room, waiting.

They saw the guy- the poisoner- earlier at the bar. He’d followed them all night, back to their room but… he hadn’t pushed his way in, always staying just too far away to be apprehended by Tony.

It took a few hours for there to be a knock at the door, Tony standing up and casting a quick look at Peter before going to answer it.

He opened the door to see him- the guy- the poisoner- dressed up as a waiter or something, pushing a cart in front of him.

“Can i help you?”

He smiled, “Room service, sir,” He started pushing his way past Tony.

“I’m sorry, but we didn’t order room service,”

The poisoner turned around quickly as he heard the door blow shut, quickly pulling Tony into a headlock and facing Peter, who was frozen in the shock of it all.

“Now I’m going to say this one time only,” He ignored Tony struggling in his hold, pulling out a gun from his waistband, “There’s handcuffs under the cart. You’re going to cuff yourself to the bed or I’ll blow your dad’s brains out,”

Peter moved slowly, sliding off the bed and keeping his hands visible. The man was the same height as Tony and didn’t look much bigger than him. Tony should be able to get out of his hold easily- there was a reason he couldn’t- and now he had a gun to his head.

He reached under the tablecloth, feeling the cold metal and pulling out three sets of handcuffs. He moved over to the bed again, cursing the hotel for having actual bed posts, and cuffed his left wrist to the bed, laying down on it to make himself more comfortable.

The man then pushed Tony away from him, pointing the gun at Peter this time and making fear rush through him, “Now you- cuff his other hand to the bed,”

Tony hesitated, making the man cock the gun, and Tony then quickly moved towards Peter, efficiently cuffing the teenager’s wrist, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance that didn’t do much to reassure him.

“Pull the chair away from the desk,” The poisoner commanded, “And cuff your hands behind it,”

Tony did so immediately, not risking Peter’s safety again. Only once he was situated did he start talking.

“You know you’re going to regret this,” The poisoner laughed.

“You really think so, do you? I know you’ve got this room bugged, i know the avengers are probably on their way here. But I’m here to send a message,”

“And what message is that?”

He paused, pulling the lid off the metal plate he brought in on the cart, it revealed a neat line of six vials, all full of a blue liquid.

“You need to pay for what you did,”

__________

As it turns out, the poisoner doesn't actually inject the poison.

No, that would be too merciful.

Tony’s handcuffed to the chair he’s sat in, facing the bed. The same bed of which Peter, his kid, the teenager who he’d grown to care for so much in the past year or two, was handcuffed to in an ironic parallel. Father and son. Mentor and mentee. Tony, the merchant of death, destined to lead anyone he comes into contact with to a gruesome fate.

Peter happened to be that person.

Tony remembered the first few days after the fight with the rogues, how he regretted taking Peter with him, knowing he was going to ruin the kid. The few months after had only solidified that claim, and so he’d taken the suit.

There was no way he was getting out of the situation now.

The poisoner- that son of a bitch tony was going to kill as soon as he could get out of this damn chair-

The poisoner, had strapped a mask to the teenager’s head, slowly screwing in a vial of that fucking liquid on either side.

And now he was breathing it in- the gas- the poison that Tony just sat there as he’d been strapped down.

Now, Tony thought it was bad enough when he’d had all those thoughts running through his head, memories of Peter before they’d gotten to know each other, before Tony had taken him in. He thought that had been bad enough.

But no, it was so much worse when all those thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt.

Because Peter had just turned his head, linking eyes with Tony, a desperate plea moving between them.

Because Peter was scared- he looked terrified.

There were unshed tears laying in his tear ducts, enough to easily see as you looked at the kid. His lips barely visible within the mask but from what Tony could see, they were held in a strained frown, lips being bitten.

Peter moved his head towards his mentor, linking eyes with the man. And that, right there in that moment, was when the teenager let go.

“T-tony-” A sob cut him off, choked out between his lips.

“T-tony please- i can’t- i don’t-” Tony shushed him from where he was sitting.

“Kid- Pete- I-” Tony was speechless, all known reassurances dying in his throat as soon as he’d thought of them, what were you supposed to say to a kid who was dying and you couldn’t do anything about it?

“Tony- please- dad- i can’t-” that kicked his instincts into gear.

“Kid, you need to stop talking, okay? The team’s going to get here soon, they’ll get this shit out of you and you’ll be okay, then you can tell me whatever you need to when you’re better, okay?”

Peter nodded, eyes still wide with tears but he listened to the billionaire. and somehow, that made it so much worse, the kid would follow him into fire if he asked him to, and now Tony got him into this situation.

Tony wanted nothing more than to look away from what was happening, as Peter breathed in the poison, helpless to do anything, but he couldn’t not be there for the kid. He needed his father figures comfort.

“he’s right, the teams gunna get here soon, i don’t know when but we’ll get you out of this as soon as we can, and then we can spend a week watching all of the star wars movies, and the clone wars if you want, anything you want kid”

The poisoner was sat in the corner of the room, on the other bed. He was watching them, watching Tony desperately give his kid comfort without being able to touch him.

Tony looked at him, “you’re a fucking psychopath, you know that, right? he’s 16, he’s just a kid. why don’t you kill me instead if you want me to pay so much, huh?”

The poisoner chuckled, standing up to walk over to them, “If you die, you wouldn’t feel the pain i did as my kid died in front of me, i’m going to make you watch as your kid suffocates in front of you”

He got two new vials, replacing the almost empty ones. Peter’s wheezing had gotten a lot more prominent now, trying desperately to bring in air.

Tony’s always been around death, it greets him at every corner. but every time, someone else dies instead of him, or at least, they come close to it.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if Peter dies.

______________

He’d already changed to the last set of vials now, Peter's breath was barely there.

Tony was fucking terrified, obviously.

The team was close, he was sure of it, but that had been what he’d been telling himself the whole time.

They were barely minutes out by his assumptions, but he didn’t know if Peter had minutes, vials nearly empty as the liquid in them turned to gas for the teenager to breathe in, slowly suffocating him.

He was still facing Tony, eve after this long, still trusting him to save him. Even as his body could barely pull in breaths, eyes drooping, they didnt stray from his face.

“Peter, you gotta keep your eyes open, i know it’s hard, i know- but you’ve gotta stay awake for just a few more minutes. We’re gunna help you, but you just gotta stay awake,”

Peter looked at him sadly, but his eyes stayed open and Tony counted that as a win. He started to say something but Tony shushed him quickly.

“It’s okay, kid. Don’t try to talk. We’ve been over this already, you can talk to me after the team gets here- star wars marathon and everything, remember?”

Peter’s eyebrows creased inwards, and Tony’s heart dropped. Either he just forgot about that whole part of their conversation or… or…

“You just gotta stay awake for me, okay? I believe in you kid, dont let me down,”

_______________

The door seemed to explode inwards when the team got there, Tony didn’t look up.

He didn’t look up as they arrested the poisoner, Bruce and sam moving to Peter, while two others moved to get Tony out of the seat he was in.

As soon as the handcuffs were undone, he surged forward, one hand reaching for the kid’s- which now rested on the bed after being released- and the other going to rest in his curls. Tony quickly wiped the tears off the kid’s face, staying away from his mouth as the others tried to give him as much oxygen as he needed.

Peter choked on a sob when he realised Tony was there, mouth slightly upturning even as another oxygen mask was placed over his face.

“I’m here kid. I’m so proud of you for staying awake, okay?” He looked to bruce, as the man looked away from Peter’s vitals, nodding to Tony now, “You can go to sleep now, I’m so proud of you kid, it’s okay,”

Peter’s eyes didn’t leave him, even as he fell asleep.

Tony cried as he was carried away.

__________________

Peter woke up in the medbay. That was his first sign that something bad happened.

The next sign was his mentor-father-figure-dad asleep on the side of his bed.

Peter’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks lining his cheeks. Tony never cried, not even when he dropped an engine on his foot that one time. If Tony was crying now, this- whatever it was that happened- it was bad bad.

“Tony?”

Tony startled awake, as if he meant to be on guard, and took one look at the kid in front of him before reaching for Peter and bringing him into his arms.

“Oh my fucking god, kid. Holy shit, you’re okay. Oh my god-”

“Tony what happened?” Was the teenager’s muffled answer, not complaining about being smothered in his da- Tony’s shirt.

“There was this- this guy we went after- had to go undercover and he got to us and he poisoned you, kid- and i couldn't- i couldn't do anything about it- i just sat there and you- you did so good-”

Peter shushed him as the memories arose in his mind, “Tony, can i talk for a second?” He received a nod in reply, “You called the team, Tony. I didn’t, you did. They got there in time and now I’m okay, aren’t I? You did everything that you could, if anything i should've done something, I’m the one with powers here. No- i know- i couldn’t have done anything but you were there the whole time telling me to stay awake and i did, Tony, because of you.”

Tony didn’t say anything, seemingly processing what the kid said. He looked up slowly, tears falling down his cheeks, leaning forward and pulling the kid into a hug again.

Slowly, Peter got tired, nearly falling asleep in Tony’s arms. So, of course, Tony moved into the bed with him, pulling the kid to rest his head against the man’s chest.

“I got you, kid, don’t worry. You can go to sleep,” Peter didn’t know if Tony was reassuring himself or the kid.

Stil, nonetheless, Peter seemingly couldn’t hold back from murmuring a last thought as he fell asleep.

“Love you, dad”

Tony froze for a moment before replying, “Yeah, i love you too, kid,”

#irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #friendly neighborhood exchange #whump #fluff #poison #nightmares #comfort #hurt/comfort #daniel writes

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