#started crying at “what’ll I do I miss her so much

[sweetyyhippyy]

Missed You. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *SMUT*

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: Eddie comes home after being gone on tour for a month. They show each other how much they missed each other.

Word Count: 4.4k

TW: Needy Eddie and reader. Eddie masturbating reader. A lot of teasing and dirty talk. Calling Eddie “sir”. Finger sucking. Begging to cum. Squirting. Taking a break during sex. Eddie being gross (but it’s kinda hot). A little bit of male receiving oral sex. Crying. Creampie. Some aftercare.

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Of course she was proud of Eddie’s band for getting popular. But what comes with that is Eddie having to be gone for an extended period of time. As much as she wanted to hit the road with him, she had a full time job that she just couldn’t ditch unfortunately.

So while she wanted to travel with him and see how beautiful the rest of Indiana was, she had to stay put for a whole month. Phone calls only satisfied the both of them so much, so his homecoming was a big deal.

The two of them couldn’t even make it to the front door of their apartment before their lips pressed together, needy for one another.

Eddie couldn’t help but press his girlfriend up against the front door as she tried to get the key through the lock, resting his ring clad hands on both of her hips, bringing her close to him.

She couldn’t help but giggle against his lips as she felt the warmth of his body, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him even closer. She could already feel that Eddie was starting to get hard just from their kissing.

“I fucking love you.” Eddie whispers in her ear before pressing hot kisses to her neck.

“I love you more.” She whimpers into his ear, tangling her fingers through his long waves. “I need you, Eddie.” She says in his ear barely above a whisper.

“Guess I need to let you go so you can open the door, huh?” Eddie laughs, letting her go.

It was the quickest she’s ever unlocked their front door, pulling him in after her as she throws the keys onto the table by the door.

“Come here, lover boy.” She smirks, pulling him back to her in the entrance way of their apartment, letting him touch her wherever he wanted.

Eddie cupped half of her face in his large hand, pressing her up against the wall, groping her ass with his other hand. He growls against her mouth as she wraps one of her legs around his legs.

She whines against his mouth as his crotch presses against her clothed middle, rolling her hips forward.

“Why so eager tonight, sweetheart?” Eddie questions in a teasing voice.

“I missed you.” She responds, running her hand down his shirt. “Missed you so much.”

“What part of you missed me?”

“I think you know, handsome.” She responds in a teasing voice. “I can feel what part of you missed me.”

“Oh, you can feel my heart?” Eddie asks, taking her hand and laying it against his chest.

“You’re such a cheese ball.” She giggles, touching his face. “Lead me to the bedroom, Romeo.”

Eddie takes her hand, leading her toward the bedroom. Once they both step in, Eddie kicks the door closed, he grabs her again, pulling her in around the waist. “How do you want it tonight, sweetheart?” He questions, backing her up toward the bed.

“As long as you’re touching me, I don’t care how you give it to me.” Her legs hit the edge of their bed, making her fall down onto the mattress.

Eddie’s large hands grasp the soft, warm skin of her thighs as he climbs onto the bed. His body parts her thighs, showing her a teeth bearing grin. “Oh there’s so many ways I can give it to you, my baby. On the menu tonight: our usual, fan favorite fucking like bunnies.” He pecks her lips quickly. “Slow, sensual baby making lovin’, or treat me like a dirty little whore? What’ll it be, sweet girl?”

“Can I get a mix of all 3? I really like all my options.” She smiles, raising her hand up his stomach, feeling his stomach with her fingertips.

“Whatever my girl wants. Let’s get these pesky clothes off you.” Eddie undoes her button to her jeans, sliding them down her legs, leaving her underwear on. “Sit up for me so we can get the shirt off.” He helps her sit up and pulls the shirt over her head, throwing it to the floor. He takes a second to stare at his girlfriend, no bra on, just sitting there in her cute little pink undies. “You are a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.”

She can feel her body getting hot at his words, a sexy little smirk on her face. “You know what’s not fair? I’m almost all the way naked, but you still have your clothes on. I think we need to change that, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll be naked as quick as lighting, pretty girl. Just watch.” Eddie quickly removes his shirt, throwing it across the room. Just hearing the clinking of the handcuffs on Eddie’s belt made her clit throb as he kicked his pants off, leaving him in just his blue checkered boxers.

“The fact that you are all mine, Eds. I get you all to myself.” Her voice was sensual as she spoke, her nails softly traveling up his arms. “That I’m the only one you get to be inside of. Fuck it’s so hot.” She ghosts her lips against his before kissing him hungrily, bringing him to the bed on top of her.

It wasn’t long before Eddie’s fingers found her inner thigh, the pads of his fingers drawing little circles on the skin.

She chased his touch, wanting him to stop the teasing and just touch her. She moans into his mouth, wrapping her legs around him. “Touch me.”

“I mean, I am touching you, sweetheart.” He smiles, dropping his head to kiss her neck.

“C’mon, don’t be an ass. I want you so much.”

Eddie quickly nips her soft skin before coming back up, licking his lips. “Alright, alright. Let me take care of you tonight. How does that sound?”

She nods her head eagerly, willing to agree to anything at this point.

“Alright, let me get settled and then follow my lead.” Eddie pecks her lips before he gets up and walks over to the dresser where his cassette player is, turning the volume as loud as he can.

“Eds, we’re going to get another noise complaint from the neighbors.” She laughs.

“Would you rather the neighbors hear you taking my cock the rest of the night? Either way we’re going to get a complaint.

She gets hot at the words coming out of his mouth, hiding her smile.

Eddie walks back over to the bed, sitting with his back up against the headboard. “Come sit right here between my legs, sweetheart. Back against my chest.” He spreads his legs apart with enough room to fit her bottom half between him.

She does as he says, resting herself against his back while she drops her head onto his shoulder for a kiss.

Eddie moans against her mouth as they softly make out with each other, his large hands touching down her body, gripping her hips. “You love me?” He whispers into her mouth.

She starts to chase his mouth before nodding. “Yes I love you, Eddie. Love you so much.”

“Mmm.” He moans before going back to kissing her hungrily.

She reaches one of her arms back to wrap around his neck, needing him to be closer to her. As she does, she feels his fingers slip underneath her panties, ghosting them along her lips. She jerks her body forward, wanting him to dive right in.

Eddie quickly slaps her pussy, nipping at her bottom lip.

She gasps and pulls away from his mouth, whining at him. “Be nice.”

“Then quit being greedy.” He says through his teeth.

She pouts her lip out dramatically before putting her arm down, touching his legs.

“Want me to play with you? With this cute little pussy?”

“Please? I’ve missed you touching me so much, baby.”

He brings only his middle finger down between her slit, feeling how warm and wet she already was. “All that for me?”

“Mmmhmm, been saving it just for you. The longer you were gone the more my pussy missed you.”

“Let me show her I’m back then, huh?” Eddie finally glides his fingers into her slick, gathering some onto his fingers and dragging it up to her clit. “Yeah, that’s what you needed? That what you missed?” Eddie asks in a teasing voice, quickly finding his usual slow pace to massage her clit.

Her breath hitches in her throat, rolling her head back onto his shoulder to look at his face. “Yes I missed you touching me. Your fingers do it so much better than mine.”

“You couldn’t wait for me to come home to not touch yourself, huh pretty girl? So impatient.” He tsks, his breath on her neck.

“A month is so long to be away from you, I couldn’t help it. Sometimes phone sex with you got me so worked up.”

Eddie’s fingers dip down to her entrance, slipping his middle and ring finger inside of her. “How long have you been this wet for me?”

She whines as his fingers slip in and out of her slowly. “Since before I picked you up at Gareth’s house. Just kept thinking about us fucking all night got me so worked up. You finally touching me, making me cum over and over.” She was full on panting as she spoke, her eyes looking up at him while confessing all her dirty thoughts.

“Mmm, yeah baby? You like when I touch you? Do I make you feel good?”

“You always make me feel good, sir.”

Eddie groaned in her ear hearing the name fall from her lips, especially with the little whine after. His free hand raking up and down the side of her torso, making her shiver.

She whines as Eddie’s fingers hit the spongy spot inside her walls, squirming against him. “Eddie, fuck.” She grasps his leg next to her.

“Did I find the spot?” Eddie chuckles in her ear.

“Y-yes! Please don’t stop, Eddie?” The plea coming out as more of a question.

“Thought I was ‘sir’? Don’t tell me I already have you drunk on me, I haven’t even put my cock inside you yet.”

She whines loudly, looking at him with needy eyes. “It feels so good, you’re going to make me cum.”

Eddie takes the hand from her side, tapping his fingers against her lips, asking for permission to slide them into her mouth. “Give ‘em a little suck.”

She opens her mouth enough to let him slip his fingers in, sucking his digits and coating them with her spit.

After she soaks his fingers, Eddie takes his fingers out, slipping them under her soaked panties, and starts to rub her clit in slow circles.

“Want you to cum on my fingers, princess. Wanna feel you get all tight around my fingers like you do my cock.” His breath was hot on the shell of her ear. “Give it to me, baby. C’mon…”

“Eddie…” She wraps her arm around his neck, bringing them close together to kiss him, moaning into his mouth.

Eddie slips his tongue in her mouth, playing with her tongue.

Something about feeling the warmth of his tongue, and the faint taste of weed, on his tongue made the damn burst, her wetness leaking onto Eddie’s fingers while her muscles clenched around him.

“Yeah, that’s my girl, that’s my beautiful girl.” He chuckles as he makes her ride her orgasm out. “Keep going, you can keep going.”

“N-no, it’s sensitive already. Stop, stop.”

“You really want me to stop? Use the safe word and I’ll stop.”

She whines as she stares at his round doe eyes, shaking her head.

“Because you don’t want me to stop, do you, my sweet girl? You like when you’re shaking and desperate, huh?”

“Yes! Yes I like it! Keep rubbing it please? Please?”

Eddie smirks at her, pecking her lips. “Pretty girl. So pretty when you’re needy for me. You know I’m going to have you cumming all night? Not going to give you a break, you ready?”

She was struggling to keep her eyes open, the feeling of her sensitive clit still being played with. “Keep going, please! Please, Eddie?”

“Tell me what I want to hear, baby. You know what I want.”

His circles around her clit only got quicker, wanting to draw out the cute little chant that drove him crazy.

“I-I want to be a good girl! I wanna be a good girl, baby please! Wanna be good! Wanna be good.” She could barely control her breathing the quicker his movements were. “Daddy please! I wanna be good!” Tears started to sting her eyes the more she almost begged to cum.

“Yeah, my baby wants to be a good girl and cum again? Go ahead my love, cum for me. C’mon I know you can do it.” He coos in her ear, using a comforting tone to coax it out of her. “I wanna keep hearing your words until you cum for me.”

She lets out a whine from the back of her throat, rolling her eyes in the back of her head. “I wanna be a good girl, sir! I wanna be good! I wanna be good! I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl! Yes, fuck I’m going to cum! Eddie, please!” Finally she lets go of the feeling building up inside her, her whole body spasms the more Eddie rubs her. She feels hot liquid spurt out from her, soaking her panties and the bed sheets under her.

“Oh, baby. That’s my girl.” Eddie gasps, tapping her clit over and over.

“K-keep doing that! More, I have more!” She all but screams, jolting forward to rutt against his fingers. She could hear the liquid squirting out of her, feeling warmth below her. She whines as the last little spurt she could handle hits the sheets, pushing Eddie’s hand away. “No more. I can’t.” Broken and hoarse moans filling the room.

“Oh shit, such a good girl. That’s my girl, good baby. You did so good for me, my love.” He kisses her cheek, halting the circles he was drawing on her clit. “I’m going to stop to give you a break, okay? Let you breathe.”

She shifts her body to lay on him sideways, her body still slightly convulsing. “Eddie…” She whines, draping her arm around his neck. She was still contracting around nothing as she laid there, her clit twitching while her wetness started to seep down her inner thighs.

“Yeah baby. I’m right here, see?” He kisses her forehead. “Right here, not leaving. Not leaving my good girl.”

“Wanna lay down, please?”

Eddie presses one more kiss to her forehead before moving from behind her, helping her lay down on her side.

“Want you.” She looks for him frantically, somehow feeling herself drop even though they truly weren’t in a scene.

“I know, baby. I wanted to get you settled first.” Eddie explains in a soft voice. He settles next to her, bringing her into his chest to cuddle while he rubs the back of her head. “Such a good girl, my love. You know how good you did for me?”

She hums in response, letting her eyes flutter closed. “Sorry we’re going to have to change the sheets.”

Eddie chuckles, kissing her head softly. “Oh trust me, changing the sheets tonight is an honor. Hell, I’ll sleep in the puddle with a smile on my face..”

She turns her head up to look at him, scrunching her face. “You’re disgusting.” She laughs, puckering her lips for a kiss.

Eddie leans down and cups her cheek, giving her three kisses.

She can’t help but run her hand down his stomach, grazing the dark patch of hair going down his lower belly.

“You got it in you? Not too tired or hurting?” Eddie was beyond rock hard from playing with her, even leaking more precum than he ever had before when she was squirting.

“It’s been a month since you’ve fucked me. I don’t care if my leg was falling off, I would still find enough energy to fuck you.”

Eddie smiles at her proudly, touching down her side. “That’s my girl. Let’s get these panties off you, yeah?”

She nods and pulls the fabric down her thighs, feeling for the first time how truly soaked they were.

Eddie helps take them off the rest of the way, holding the pink panties in his hand. “Hope you didn’t like these too much. Going to keep them as a trophy.”

“Disgusting.” She says with a tinge of embarrassment.

Eddie quickly rids himself of his own boxers, tossing them off to the side of the bed.

Immediately her hands find his cock, sitting up just enough to drop a bead of spit down onto the head of his cock. She works her thumb around his tip slowly, spreading her spit around.

Eddie sighs shakily, watching her play with him, feeling himself throb. “I can’t handle you sucking me off, I’ll cum in a second. Give it a couple licks and then let me put it in you?”

She nods in agreement, narrowing her tongue and licking the tip of his cock like a baby kitten lapping up milk from a bowl.

“Oh shit, lick around it real slow? Please baby?”

She wraps her lips around his tip only, drawing small circles around him like he asked.

“God fuck your mouth is so wet and warm.”

She smirks as she releases him from her mouth with a long string of spit following.

“Wanna try a position we haven’t tried. I know you’re tired, it’s not a lot I promise.”

She nods her head with a sweet smile on her face, waiting for further instructions.

“Lay on your side facing away from me, and then hold your leg up while I get settled.” Eddie gropes her ass while he lays on his own side, pressing himself against her back. “You’re so beautiful.” He grips the base of his cock and rubs the tip through her folds, coating it with her wetness. “You going to take my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes, yes I’m going to take it.” She mutters as he slips inside her, pushing himself inch by inch until he bottoms her out. “Oh fuck!” She gasps, grabbing his wrist. “So fucking thick.” She rolls her eyes in the back of her head

“I can feel you stretching around me.” Eddie moans in her ear, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want more.” She whines, turning her body around to look back at him with want in her eyes.

“Yeah? You think you can handle more?” He questions with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I can, I can handle it! Please?”

Eddie slowly pulls out halfway before giving her shallow thrusts that barely touched her favorite spot. He takes her top leg and holds onto her thigh. “Gonna write a song about how fucking addicting this pussy is.”

She reaches back and tangles her fingers in his hair, his waves, sweaty and hot against her digits. She brings his head toward her neck, moaning as he rakes his teeth against her skin.

“Love your fucking pussy, baby.” He grunts, marking the end of his sentence with a hard thrust.

She gasps loudly, pulling his hair harshly. “Fuck, do that again.”

“What, this?” Eddie laughs against her skin. He fucks into her three times sharply, grunting deeper and louder each time. “That feel good, baby?”

“Fuck, yes!“ Her eyes roll in the back of her head at the dull ache afterward. “Can I touch myself? I wanna cum again.”

“Only if you promise me you’ll squirt like last time. Want it like a fucking garden hose all over the bed.”

She nods her head, pouting her lip out to ask for a kiss. “I promise.”

Eddie pecks her lips, massaging her thigh with his hand. “Go ahead baby.”

She parts her lips, feeling how wet and sticky she was. She lets out a small hum as she softly touches her clit, rubbing it super slowly to begin with. “You’re making me so wet.”

“It’s my favorite pastime. Love to hear how it sounds in the room when I’m fucking you. Shh, let’s listen for a little bit?”

The loud mixtape, along with Eddie’s deep grunts and slapping skin mixed with the squelching sound of his cock slamming in and out of her.

She focused on the wet sounds she was making, small whimpers falling from her mouth. “You did that to me.” Her voice was small and frail as she spoke.

“Oh did I, baby? You like when I make this cute pussy all wet? When my cock hits you right there?” His top hits her spot back to back, causing her to roll her head back against his shoulder.

“Keep fucking me right there! Eddie please! I’ll squirt all over you if you do that again!” Tears started to prick her eyes, feeling the build up again.

“Yeah, baby. Right there, huh? That’s where you want my cock?” He questions, his fingertips digging impossibly deeper into the skin of her hip.

It wasn’t necessarily a pain she couldn’t tolerate, it hurt so bad that it felt good. Between Eddie hitting her gspot, the feeling of how he was still stretching her out, and her clit being played with; she was on cloud 9.

“Yes right there! I’m so close! I’m so close, Eddie.”

“Don’t hold it back, my love. Want you to fucking soak me.” He growls in her ear. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes! Yes I’m a good girl!”

“Tell me whose good girl you are. Tell the fucking neighbors whose good girl you are.” Eddie wraps one of his hands around her throat, squeezing lightly.

“Your good girl sir! I’m all yours! Eddie, fuck, please I wanna cum! Please?!” Her voice only got more hoarse the more she spoke.

“Keep begging. Sound so pretty when you’re begging.” Eddie found more energy out of nowhere, snapping his hips up harder.

She cries out loud, knowing she was going to be hurting in the morning. “Please, please, please? Let me be a good girl! Need to cum, need to! Baby, please?” A few tears rolled down her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed. Her whole body starts to shake, starting at her legs. “Eddie, fuck! Pull out please?!” She could feel the dam break, a high pitched cry coming from her.

Eddie quickly pulls out, letting the liquid squirt out of her, all of it spurting out on his thighs. “That’s my girl. Give me some more?” He grips his cock, his heavy cock slapping harshly against her, more cum gushing out.

Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks as she released her pent up cum all over Eddie. Small, hoarse sobs coming from deep in her chest. She couldn’t articulate words at this point, her brain turning to complete mush. She tried to force any word out, but all she could do was gasp.

Eddie’s figure was only a watery, fuzzy silhouette behind her as she looks for him.

“Baby, come back to me. Breathe for me, yeah? ‘M not going to keep going until you say something.” Eddie wipes her tears away with the back of his hand. He lightly touches her cheek, blowing cool air from his mouth on her neck.

“ ‘M o-okay.” She whispers, the statement coming out slurred.

“Give me a kiss? It’ll help you calm down.” Eddie comes above her body, dropping his head down to kiss her passionately, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

She whines into his mouth, gripping both sides of his shoulders while she throws her legs around his waist.

Eddie massages his tip over her slit while they make out, collecting all of her slick. “Fuck I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.”

“Want you to finish.”

“You sure? We can stop if you don’t want to keep going.” He says as he kisses her collarbone.

“I can handle it, promise.”

Eddie lays back on his side, slipping back into her slick hole, wrapping his arm around her chest while he bucked into her. “I love you, sweetheart. Love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

Eddie rolls his eyes in the back of his head, trying to breathe through his upcoming orgasm. “God really made you perfect, huh?”

His words make her clench around him which only made him moan loudly behind her. “You want it inside you? Want me to fill you up?”

“God, yes! Cum in me!” She was just as desperate, if not more for him to cum.

Eddie gives it his all, making the bed frame creak and slam against the wall. Her name spills from his mouth, getting lost with the music. “I’m cumming. Take it, princess.” He finally spills inside of her, moaning loudly in her ear as he rides out his own orgasm.

“Fuck I can feel it spilling out.” She mutters, resting her back against his chest. “You came so much.” She gasps.

“I’ve been holding it back since last week. Wanted to fill you to the brim.” He kisses her shoulder twice before slowly pulling out with a whine from both of them. “Going to go get a towel to clean you up. Stay right here.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to move until next week.” She exhales, letting her eyes shut while she hears the water running from their bathroom. She knew she needed to get up to avoid getting an uti, but she was too far in bliss to move and be responsible.

Eddie walks back in the room, a new pair of all black boxers hanging off his hips. He kneels on the bed, pressing the towel to the back of her thighs.

She gasps and picks her head up quickly, wide eyed at him. “Cold as hell.”

Eddie snickers, seeing her body covered in goosebumps and her nipples hardening. “Sorry, sweetheart. Need to clean you up, open your legs up for me.”

She lazily opens her legs, letting Eddie wipe up his cum from her inner thighs and any that was leaking out onto her lips.

“I made us a bath. I’ll help you get in while I change the sheets, okay?”

She moans and raises her eyebrows at him. “Having a man who can break and ruin me in bed, and then turn around and do something to put me back together is just the hottest thing you can do.”

Eddie smiles widely, leaning down to kiss her thigh. “I’m the man of your dreams, sweetheart.  What can I say? Let's get you in the bath. Maybe we can get you relaxed enough to maybe get a round 2 going.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x fem! reader #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson headcanon #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fic

[yelena-bellova]

Unlucky: (Eventual) Steve Harrington x Fem!Subject!Reader

Chapter One: Thirteen

Series Masterlist

Plot: Four years after her escape from Hawkins Lab, Thirteen lives in and out of homeless shelters. While taking lunch in a diner, she overhears a conversation about a missing boy...

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: discussion of child abduction/experimentation, language, periods, blood, intrusive thoughts, flashbacks to violence

A/N: You guys really blew up the prologue! I definitely didn't expect such a positive reaction to something I wrote in 45 minutes lol. Here's the first chapter, Steve doesn't show up for a few more chapters but hopefully you'll stick around until then. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged, enjoy!

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When the blood flowed between my legs, I panicked.

When my breasts started to develop, I panicked.

When hair started to grow on my legs, I panicked.

The homeless shelter’s clinic nurse assured me that I was simply going through something called puberty. Perfectly normal, she told me. She supplied me with pads, I picked up a bra from one of the clothing bins and asked for a razor when I went to shower. I cut myself up pretty good the first time I shaved, resulting in another trip to the nurse for gauze and bandaids.

Things that were learned naturally by other girls were new terrors for me.

The lab had not prepared me for anything other than crushing Coca-Cola cans and reading people’s minds. I knew nothing of my own body. The moment I was alone with it, I realized it was a stranger to me. It had taken me four years to become comfortable with my own skin, appearances aside. I was well aware how ratty I looked and I knew how it made me feel. Pretty girls would come and bring food or clothing donations, they looked so pretty it made me want to cry. The least of my problems though was how I presented myself to the world.

Living on the run came with a new type of paranoia. Looking over my shoulder had quickly become second nature to me. In my deepest moment of anxiety, I felt like I was just running out the clock until Papa found me and dragged me back to the only world I’d known for the first twelve years of my life. I changed locations every few days, living under bridges or in different shelters. I’d been around most of Illinois and a great part of Indiana. 

But I never went back to Hawkins.

Returning to the town where I’d been held captive was too much of a risk. Even though it had been four years since my escape, I didn’t doubt that if Papa was still alive, he had people looking for me. Even if I was wrong, I still didn’t want to be near Hawkins. The bad memories were too strong.

Hammond, Indiana was a big enough that I could blend in effortlessly. Having showered and gotten a fresh change of clothes at one of the shelters, I’d hitched my backpack over my shoulder and headed for the nearest diner. Whenever I spent time outside, I inevitably was given change by well-to-do businessmen or housewives out shopping. I saved it for when I absolutely needed something, I didn’t want for much since the shelters provided me with toiletries and clothes. But it had been days since my last hot meal that wasn’t soup and I needed something substantial.

I entered the quiet diner and scanned the room, looking for any potential threats and exits. Once I felt confidant that I had an escape plan, I made my way to the counter and took the lone seat on the edge. My bag bounced as it hung from my knee, my foot anxiously tapping as I felt eyes on me. It wasn’t anything new to be stared at, even when I looked somewhat presentable. I was wearing a dark blue oversized sweater and an old pair of acid washed jeans. My hair was down and plain, my nails short and unpainted. It was a conceited wish of mine, but I liked to hope there was a day where I could style my hair like the other girls. Where I could paint my nails and do my makeup. Where I could look the way I wanted to.

“What’ll you have, hun?”

The waitress’ impatient voice broke me out of my daydreams. My lips parted, anxious that I hadn’t taken a look at the menu sitting in front of me. I quickly picked it up and scanned it, choosing the first thing that cost under my allotted three dollars.

“A-a grilled cheese, please.”

“French fries or onion rings?” she asked without looking up from her pad of paper.

I furrowed my brow, “I-I’m sorry?”

She sighed, “Sandwich comes with french fries or onion rings as a side.”

“Oh,” I nodded, “French fries, please.”

The waitress left, writing my answer down and leaving me with my thoughts. I looked down at the counter and tried to hold the tears in my eyes. I was well aware of how painfully ignorant I was to the world. I didn’t know what a grilled cheese was. I didn’t know what onion rings were. When I’d collect a meal or a new winter coat from the girls working at the shelter, I had no clue what they were discussing. It was all another language to me, one I only had a basic understanding of.

So I kept a list.

A list of things I knew I liked. I knew I liked french fries. I knew I liked tomato soup. I knew I liked hot chocolate. I knew I liked a song I heard playing on a radio in the nurse’s office once called Hey Jude. I knew I liked the color blue. Whenever I was sad about my lacking knowledge of the world, I’d pull out my list and read it as a comforting act of rebellion. I hadn’t been allowed to have a personality in the lab, now I was determined to discover all sides of the one resting inside of me.

As I read it over, the waitress set my plate down in front of me. “Condiments are right over here, if you need ‘em,” she waved towards a small silver thing that held red and yellow bottles.

After she left, I carefully reached for the red bottle and figured out that I needed to squeeze it to make anything come out. A red goo poured out on one side of my plate, touching the ends of some of my fries. I dipped my grilled cheese in it and took a bite, smiling and pulling out the pencil from the spiral of my small notebook.

I like grilled cheese and- 

I stoped my writing to read the name on the bottle. Heinz Ketchup.

Heinz Ketchup.

In a rare moment of genuine happiness, I listened to the music coming in from the waitress’ radio as I ate. Eventually, my ears drifted to a conversation two men were having a few seats down from me.

“You hear about that Byers kid?” one of them asked between bites.

“Yeah, shame…” the other replied, “I heard the search went all the way to the border.” “Don’t think the kid could have gotten that far. Where was he from again?”

The man with the red baseball cap on thought for a second, “Hawkins, I think.” My sandwich fell out of my hands.

Hawkins.

“That’s right,” the other man nodded, “I got a brother who lives near there. He-“ “I’m sorry,” I turned on my stool, “Did you say Hawkins?”

The man in the red cap turned to face me, “That’s right.”

“A-and there’s a boy missing?” I continued.

“Was missing,” the man corrected me, “They found his body yesterday or two days ago…”

I absorbed the information, my thoughts running over one another. I didn’t know the situation, but I knew Hawkins. If a child went missing there, there was a good chance it could be traced back to the lab. To Papa.

“That’s…awful,” I quickly replied, “How long was he missing?”

“Oh,” the man whose brother lived near Hawkins chewed on a bite of his hamburger, “‘Bout two or three days. They found the body over near the quarry, I guess. You been there?”

“A long time ago,” I answered, fending off memories threatening to invade my head, “Where’s the quarry again?”

“Pretty sure it’s near that lab.”

My heart stopped beating. The rest of whatever the man said became muffled in my ears. A missing boy? Near the lab? Where they had no problem abducting and torturing innocent children? What was potentially connected to my old home was quickly becoming almost undoubtably confirmed. 

“Wow,” I mumbled, “That’s terrible…”

I didn’t have proof that Papa had anything to do with whatever had happened to the boy. I didn’t even know if he was still alive. But something in my gut told me I needed to find out more about the situation. The stakes were too high for me to ignore it.

Rolling up the sleeve of my sweater, my eyes rested on the number permanently written on my arm.

013

Drawing a shallow breath, I flagged down my disgruntled waitress. “Could I have a bag, please?” I asked.

After shoving my food in my backpack and paying, I left the diner and headed in the direction of the main road. Once the signs with the nearby cities and corresponding distance began to pop up was when my decision began to feel real.

Hawkins 10 mil

My head flooded with everything I saw in my nightmares.

Bloody walls.

Limp bodies.

Missing eyes.

I shook my head as if to tell myself that remembering wasn’t allowed, not now. Before I could talk myself out of it, I ducked into the forest alongside the road and began to make my way back to Hawkins.

—————————

It was shocking that I could remember Hawkins’ heavily wooded landscapes even after four years. I’d passed the trees ever so briefly as I’d run through the forests, terrified someone from the lab was trying to drag me back to a place I didn’t even know the name of. But this time when I passed the sign that said the town welcomed me, I knew exactly where I was and I knew I was alone.

With my hair longer now and clothes of my own, I knew that I was unrecognizable. Nobody had known me outside of the lab to begin with. But I still depended on the cover of the woods as if my head was still shaved and I was still wearing a hospital gown. Eventually, I had to cross over a few quiet roads to get in the general direction of the lab. Once I reached the railroad tracks, I knew I was close. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, the grilled cheese I finished on my way began to churn in my stomach. I had to remind myself that I was doing this for the boy, the boy who might not have died at all…

I wasn’t sure what I was planning on doing. I thought about asking around if any suspicious activity had gone on, but that would present questions of who I was. Hanging back and quietly watching the town for a few days was my best option.

Distant voices made me freeze in my tracks.

I hid behind a tree and peeked out cautiously, seeing four short figures walking along the train tracks. The closer they got, the better I could make them out. Kids, no older than eleven or twelve. They were in deep conversation about something. I leaned a little closer to try and hear what they were saying. Maybe there was a chance they something about the missing boy.

Snap!

The branch I’d been leaning on snapped under my weight and I fell forwards, landing on the edge of the railroad tracks.

A round of shouts alerted me that the kids, three boys and a girl, had been closer than I’d thought. “Wrist rocket! Wrist rocket!”

I looked up in time to see the darker skinned boy holding some contraption, about to launch a ball at me. The second it left the device, I instinctively held my hand up and froze the object in midair.

“Holy shit,” the curly haired boy exclaimed. “Shit,” I mumbled, I’d just messed up…big time.

“There’s another one of them?”

I looked up from my spot, “What?”

The girl, who’d been standing behind the two of the boys, pushed her way forward. It didn’t take me more than two seconds to shed the blonde hair and age her by a few years.

“Eleven?” “Thirteen?”

I let the ball drop, stumbling to my feet quickly and running to the girl. We wrapped each other in a long overdue embrace, one of the first hugs we’d ever been allowed to share.

“I thought you were dead,” I said through tears. “Dead?” she asked, pulling back to look at me. “Well, yeah,” I hurried, “When I tried to escape and I saw everything, I figured that you’d been killed.” Eleven furrowed her brow at me, trying to decipher the meaning of my words. “Confused.”

Confused was correct. Why was it that she didn’t remember that awful awful day? Had she somehow been overlooked like me? Hidden? Why had her speech regressed? “H-how can you not remember?” I asked, bringing my hands to her cheeks and holding them. 

Eleven shook her head, staring up at me and looking so helpless, I decided to drop the matter. If she couldn’t remember, it meant one of two things. Either she had been spared and sheltered from the whole event, or Papa had done something to her memory.

“I-it must have been a nightmare,” I quickly swept the matter away, “I’m sorry. I just…how are you here?”

“Got away,” she said in a halting pattern.

I smiled, pulling her back to me and resting my head on top of hers. It was enough for me to have her with me, both of us free.

“So you have superpowers like El too?”

I looked over Eleven’s shoulder and made eye contact with the curly haired boy, a gap-toothed smile on his face. “I-I’m not a superhero…El?”

“That’s what we call her,” the black haired boy spoke up finally, watching me as if trying to decide whether I was a threat or not. “Short for Eleven. Do you have a name like that too?”

“Do you know anything about the Upside Down?” the dark skinned boy asked.

“Does your nose bleed too?” came from the curly haired boy.

“Are you guys, like, sisters or something?

“Are the bad men after you too?”

“Okay, just-“ I held up a hand and shut my eyes, “Hang on. Eleven, who are they?” Eleven pulled back and looked towards the boys before looking back at me, “Friends.”

“Friends,” I repeated, trying to put any pieces together that I could. “How did you meet?”

The black haired boy, seemingly the one in charge, took the question, “We were looking for our friend, Will, and we found Eleven wandering in the woods. I’ve been hiding her in my basement.” I looked down to Eleven, my heart tearing at the thought of her wandering the woods as I had. I stroked my hand over the mop of blonde hair she was sporting, an obvious wig. She gave me a small smile and I stroked a thumb over her cheek.

“Sister,” Eleven whispered. “Sister,” I replied, tearing up and hugging her again.

Collecting myself, I took a step towards the boys and brushed my hands down my sweater. “No, I don’t have superpowers but I have…” I struggled for words, “Something like superpowers.”

I turned to the boy with the black hair, “I don’t have a name, just a number. Thirteen.”

Next, the dark skinned boy. “What’s the Upside Down?”

Back to the curly haired boy, “My nose only bleeds when I use my…superpowers.”

“Yes, Eleven and I are like sisters, or something.”

Finally, I looked to Eleven, even though she hadn’t asked the question. “The bad men,” I stated, bracing myself for whatever answer she gave, “Is he looking for you?”

A solemn nod.

I blew out a shaky breath and nodded. Papa was, indeed, still alive. That piece of information made my being in Hawkins ten times riskier. But I couldn’t leave now.

“No,” I turned back to the pack of boys, “The bad men aren’t after me right now, but if they find out I’m here…” I shut my eyes briefly, working to calm myself, “Yes, they will come for me. Which means I need to stay a secret, like Eleven.”

The dark skinned boy groaned, “More secrets…”

“Ignore him,” the curly haired boy held a hand towards his friend before walking up to me, “I’m Dustin.”

“Hi, Dustin,” I reached out to shake his hand. He might have been one of the most adorable children I’d ever seen.

“I’m Mike,” the black haired boy stepped forward and gestured to the boy less than thrilled by my presence, “That’s Lucas.”

“Mike, Lucas,” I repeated to myself, “I need to know everything about how you’re hiding Eleven but first…is your friend’s name Will…Byers?”

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

Unlucky Taglist: @milkiane @raynelbabe @kik51199 @hazydespair

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington series #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ a fluffy little domestic drabble . the boys are therapising! with healthy dose of horsegirl!stede, because I love him and I said so <3

Read on AO3

back on the horse

They were getting their land legs, slowly but surely. Not just walking without expecting the ground to move too (Ed described it as, “kind of like the opposite of being dizzy?”), but also, finding their new rhythm too with all the tasks that entailed and all the lack of tasks, too. After all, they were no longer Captains. Stede was no longer a father or a husband. They no longer had the roles and anxieties that had propped them up their entire lives and with more downtime than ever to gaze at their proverbial navels, they figured they should probably do something about that.

“I was thinking,” Ed said, one quiet morning in bed, “I think I might… go fishing today.”

“Are you sure?” Stede frowned. “I know your… confidence was a bit shaken, last time.”

“Yeah, but I dunno. It was pretty cool practicing being quiet. I think it’d be good. Plus, I kinda miss it out there, you know? Not more than I like being here. Like, don’t worry or anything. Just for the day. Is that cool?”

Stede felt a pinch of anxiety in his chest, but it was quickly soothed when Ed wound his hand together with Stede’s, a promise. He’s not panicking. He looked over at Stede with big, gentle eyes, like he really wouldn’t go if Stede said it was going to worry him too much. Stede squeezed his hand back.

“I think that’s a great idea, love.”

“What about you? What’ll you get up to?”

“Well.” Stede looked around their humble abode. He hadn’t really thought about that. “Normally, I’d read, but I think I’d better not or I’ll start reciting The Collected Works of William Shakespeare in my sleep.”

“Yeah, too late, babe,” Ed jabbed, and Stede laughed. “But hey - what about Garnet? You could take her into town and see if Hine has another book for you. Probably be much faster if it was just you. You ride, right?”

Stede all but blushed. “Oh, I suppose I could. I’m not very good, and it’s been so long-”

“So? I’m no good at fishing either. Isn’t there some saying about getting back on the horse?” Ed raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Stede had to admit he had a point. Not just about Garnet, but about reacquainting himself with being alone. He’d never really put it together before the last few days, but he had used to spend a lot of time with the horses. Mostly, it was a good excuse to get away from the main house to the stables or the forest where he had less eyes on him. Sometimes Arthur was the only conversation partner he’d had all day - especially on the worst days, when he felt so crushingly lonely he might just turn to stone; on those days, whenever he could, he’d bury his face in the old boy’s neck and cry.

And of course, it wasn’t like that here, with Ed, not even close. There was always something to do, something to share, something to love. But there was still something to be said for sticking his nose in Garnet’s mane and taking a deep breath. He felt safe there. He felt loved there. He found himself imagining what it might be like to explore this beautiful place with his new friend under saddle, and found himself smiling. Hay and dust and sweat and saltbush and sea air. It was perfect.

Ed smiled back.

“There you go then. I’ll see you tonight?”

“See you tonight.”

#blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fanfic #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #clara's fic tag #the petrified orange inn verse

[nakanotamu]

Actually okay talking about Lady C definitely leaving for DDM has me Thinking now about how/why people leave the various factions and I think it’s interesting it’s like

Stars - Nobody decides they hate Stars but fuckin everybody ever has gotten fed up with Mayu at some point. Mayu definitely seems to have become a better leader lately (sighs at Komomo almost crying when Mayu said she thought they had a future together....) but the question is probably what’ll happen first, someone else getting sick of her or Hazuki taking over as leader.

QQ - As we’re seeing now, it seems like Utami’s attitude is pretty much “well if you really want to go, go.” QQ is pretty individualistic as it is, plus she’ll probably never be all the way over how Momo left, so she seems to just have no interest whatsoever in trying to keep someone around if they don’t want to be there.

Oedo Tai - The people who have left modern Oedo Tai were all due to pretty real world reasons - Konami, Natsu, Hazuki’s a little further back but since they spun their history into more recent stories I think it still counts. It seems like people leave Oedo Tai because of stronger personal connections to someone or something outside Oedo Tai - and since Oedo Tai is “family”, if you care about someone else more, you’re fuckin dead.

God’s Eye - Obviously we’ve never seen anyone leave God’s Eye and honestly if every single member stays loyal to Syuri until the day she or they retire I wouldn’t even be surprised.

DDM - What I find interesting is the contrast between DDM and CA, which is why I saved them for last. DDM works hard to fight together as a team and improve as wrestlers, but care about each other a LOT as people too. Syuri left because Giulia kind of told her too, and Poi left for one person in particular and was still devastated to leave DDM behind. It seems like people only leave DDM because they have goals they feel they can only accomplish elsewhere, and their hearts are always at least a little bit in DDM.

Cosmic Angels - Cosmic Angels thing is that they love each other so, so much as people, but are extremely individualistic and unorganized as wrestlers. Tam, desperate to avoid ever stifling someone the way she was in Stars, apparently doesn’t really insist on anything or provide guidance. When people in CA go for team belts for example, it’s because everyone doing so decided they wanted to, not because someone decided this year, we’re focusing on team belts. We’ve seen this go extremely well - Poi and Tam’s ideas and desires are extremely in sync, so they work together fantastically - and extremely poorly - Mai wanting to focus more actively on wrestling and not getting the guidance she wanted, Unagi needing to strike out on her own even though she tweets all the time about how badly she misses them, and now Mina maybe feeling the need to start her own faction in order to get the kind of clout you need to win the white belt. (Though I hold out hope she will realize with the kind of freedom Tam gives them she doesn’t actually need to leave and a CA subfaction could actually work.) Even with Waka, the other big story right now, they all worked together to train her, Tam calling that the thing that brought them together, but now that that seems to have not worked, it’s, okay, well figure it out for yourself or you have to go find someone who can help you better than we can. I think the reason this idea dug into my brain because once again everyone has their little differences, but DDM and CA in particular are just always two sides of the same coin.

#Stardom #joshi puroresu #long post

[minusgangtime]

Gonna start the RP ark now,this one is gonna focus on Shelbys relationship with her father and I’m retconning that he’s alive-)

(Dane heard soft crying in his young girls room going to investigate..)

Shelby?

(Shelby was on her bed crying with her hands in her arms,wearing the funeral gown she had worn to her cousins funeral.)

Sweetie,what’s wrong?

It’s not fair,Dylan should’ve lived a long happy life! Like you! He had so much to live for and now he’s just..gone! I miss him so much..it should’ve been me..

(Dane scooped his daughter in his arms,hugging her.)

Don’t you dare say that! Losing you wouldn’t have made a difference,it still would’ve hurt..

(Shelby just continued to sob.)

Goofball..Dylan wouldn’t want you to be sad,he’d want you to live your life..

How can I do that when it hurts so bad?..

Cause I’ll be by your side til the end of time~

(She looked up at him.)

Really?

Really.

You promise?

I promise.

(Shelby wiped away her tears.)

I know what’ll make you feel better~

*sniff* what?

Goochie goochie goo!~

Bwahahahahaha! No stop it! Nohohohaha!~

…

…

…

(Shelby woke up as the feeling of the sun touched her skin,her eyes looked drained and disappointed.)

Oh…right..it was just a dream…my dad didn’t love me anymore…

-Shelby

"Sis? Is everything okay?"

#fnf ask #ask

[emwritesfootball]

On The Wall | John Stones

Also you should write a piece about John coming into the pub where the reader works and hitting on her and making fun of her for having his picture on the wall and you can go from there 👀

Word Count: 1,612

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (Female receiving), fingering, drinking

A/N: an idea I pitched to @bluemoonstonesy who said I should write this myself. Enjoy x

- - -

“We’re closed,” you say automatically when you hear the little bell at the top of the door signal that someone’s come in. You’re wiping the sticky surface of the bar down, not paying attention to anything but making sure the wooden area is spotless for tomorrow.

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve missed the sign,” a familiar voice chuckles and you look up to find none other than John Stones in your family’s pub. John freaking Stones, whose picture happens to be on the wall of your family’s Manchester City-themed pub right next to Aguero and Grealish.

“I-” You don’t know what to say at first, speechless as you just stare at him. You let out a nervous chuckle, ducking your head to hide the embarrassment that you knew was plainly spelled out across your face.

“I can leave if you’d like,” he says when you still haven’t found your words.

“N-No,” you stutter, shaking your head rapidly. “It’s fine. What are you drinking?”

“Virgin of whatever’s your favourite,” he responds, giving you a saucy grin.

“No,” you reply, falling easily into your role behind the bar. “As your bartender, I can’t let you drink a virgin anything - footballer or not.”

John places his forearms on the bar, leaning forward. “And what if I’m an alcoholic?”

“I’d think the media would have let me know,” you retort, smirking.

“You got me there,” he chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m out of excuses, and we just won earlier today-”

“You did, and you deserve a drink, so what’ll it be?” You don’t reply, mixing up your favourite cocktail and garnishing it, setting it down in front of him. “After the way you played today, this one is on the house.” You realize you actually hadn’t flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED, doing so as he sips on the drink. You can feel his eyes on you, watching as you finish your checklist of things to do to close the pub down for the evening.

“So, how’d you get this job?” John asks, making idle conversation as you continue to clean.

“My family owns the place, so I didn’t get much choice,” you shrug, starting to wipe down the tables. “Doesn’t matter, though - pay’s good even if the hours are shit, but at least I get the luxury of telling my bosses to fuck off without being fired.”

“Yeah, not many people get to say that, I suppose,” John said, wincing a little as the alcohol went down.

“Could have worse jobs than dealing with drunks, honestly. I could spend my days getting yelled at by drunks who think they know more than the refs while I get paid millions of pounds to kick a ball.” You shot him a wink to let him know you were kidding, your stomach dipping when you made him laugh.

“Fair enough. At least I don’t have a framed picture of myself where I- wait, nevermind. My picture’s everywhere at the Etihad.”

You walk back behind the bar, making him another drink - two mojitos this time. “Both of those aren���t for me, are they?”

“Only one of them is, unless you don’t wanna pay for your second drink.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” John laughs, shaking his head but motioning for the drink. “Give it to me.”

You hand him one, your fingers brushing his. Your breath hitches at the contact, your eyes meeting his, and you know he’s heard the sound.

“Who’s your favourite City player?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

You bite down on your bottom lip, flicking your gaze down at the bar before your eyes meet his again. “If I tell you it’s you, would you think I was lying because you’re the one in front of me right now?”

“Well, now that you’ve said it: yes,” he jokes, smiling. “But you’re so beautiful and sincere that I’m inclined to believe you.”

“Calling me beautiful to try to get out of paying for that second drink?” You tease in an attempt to ignore how fast your pulse is racing and how turned on by him you are.

“Maybe,” he smirks, reaching out and touching your face. You lean into his touch, his thumb brushing across your cheek in a way that makes you yearn for him to touch you in other places. “But it’s also true.”

“You shouldn’t press your luck, Stones.”

His eyes darken. “Call me John.”

“John.” You sound out the syllable, loving the way it feels coming out of your mouth. You’ve said his name a thousand times - screamed it when he’s scored, cried it when City’s lost, casually thrown it out to your friends or anyone when you’re talking about your team - but this feels different… intimate, even.

The pads of his fingers press into the sensitive skin on your neck and you let out an involuntary whimper. John swallows hard, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. “If I kiss you right now…”

“If you kiss me right now, I’ll end up begging you to fuck me on this bar,” you say, barely recognizing the words as the leave your mouth. You’re not usually this bold, but this man makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do, the least of which is beg him to fuck you in your family’s pub.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” John growls right before latching his lips onto yours. Your stomach presses painfully into the wood as you lean across the bar, matching him kiss for kiss.

“Wait,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as you pull back so you can walk around and stand in-between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Much better,” you smirk, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Wearing my kit, eh?” John murmurs between kisses, his hands sliding up your waist and underneath the material. “Sexy.”

The word travels out of his mouth and down your spine, your clit throbbing as it responds to his praise. He lifts his kit over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Your jeans are a little trickier and you kick off your shoes before wiggling out of them while he sheds his own shirt and joggers, toeing off his own trainers. For a moment you hate that your bra and panties don’t match, but you also weren’t expecting to get your brains fucked out by your favourite footballer tonight, so it’s definitely not going the way you’d planned.

“Let’s see how wet you are for me,” John rasps, his hand trailing up your thigh before settling between your legs, nimble fingers pushing your panties to the side to probe your slick folds. Your hands fly to his shoulders, a moan ripping from your throat as he slides a thick finger as deep as it’ll go inside your pussy, curling in to your g-spot just right when the heel of his palm grinds against your clit.

“Oh, God, John!” You cry out, a needy whimper leaving your mouth when he pulls out his finger, his eyes glued to yours as he licks his finger clean.

“You taste so good,” he praises, kissing you again so you can taste yourself off his lips.

“Please, John, just fuck me already,” you beg, reaching between the two of you to stroke his cock.

“How do you want it?” He asks, his eyes fluttering closed as you pump his shaft, your thumb brushing over the tip that’s now leaking precum. “I don’t have a condom so pullout will have to do.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation, the thought of John fucking you raw and pulling out making you that much more turned on. “Pullout is fine - just fuck me already, John.” You pull yourself up so you’re sitting on the bar, spreading your legs so John can get the perfect view of your already-dripping pussy.

He lines his dick up with your entrance, letting out a groan as he slides the tip into you. You let him go slow so you can feel every inch of him, finally picking up the pace once he’s balls-deep inside you. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your hands bracing yourself on the wood as he thrusts into you rhythmically, his fingers leaving marks on your hips.

You’re on the verge of an orgasm when John pulls out, pumping his dick a few times before spilling his seed on your stomach and letting out a groan. Without a second thought, you’re swiping it off and sticking your index finger in your mouth, tasting him like he’d tasted you earlier, making a big show of swirling your tongue around your finger.

“Did you cum?” He asks, and for a moment you think about lying to him, but you decide not to, shaking your head. “Lean back,” he orders before kissing up your inner thigh and putting his mouth on your pussy.

Your hands immediately tangle in his hair, grabbing the curls as he licks at your core. It doesn’t take long for you to cum around his tongue, his name on your lips as your orgasm races through you and you grind your pussy on his face.

His lips are shiny with your juices when he comes up, grinning at you before pulling you in for another kiss.

“When do you close next?” He asks a few minutes later as you’re both getting dressed.

“The same day as your next match,” you reply.

“Good,” is all he says, giving you a knowing smile before vanishing out the door, leaving you all alone with your thoughts as you begin wiping down the bar again to remove all the evidence of what you’ve just done.

#my writing: john stones #john stones smut #john stones x reader #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #john stones one shot #john stones oneshot

[teasty]

kiss yourself (03) || h.js

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff  ||  fwb to lovers au || college!au || non!idol au

● warnings: | praise + degradation | reader and jisung are not in a relationship at the beginning! | suggestive dialogue | profanity | unprotected sex | softdom!harddom!jisung | reader gets into short fist fight | fingering | hair pulling | slight dumbification |

● words: 10.4k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: a lot happens in this chapter,, it's pretty fast paced but it is what it is ~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | CHAPTER THREE

“I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

You refused to cry, no matter how bad you wanted to.

You didn’t actually head back to the dorm, deciding you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep fast enough and that you simply wanted to have the comfort of being alone for the time being. You’re so fed up, so irritated and stressed, not even Jisung fucking you over and over again until you’re too weak to even speak could fix it. Neither did you feel like dealing with Jeongja, so you headed straight for the 24/7 cafe a few blocks away from the school. You didn’t go there often, but you went there a few times with Jisung in the mornings. You weren’t as familiar with the place like he was, but you knew for a fact that it was open all day, every week day.

There was only one other person in the cafe. A young, tired looking woman who typed vigorously on her laptop, which was plugged into the wall along with her phone, which she listened to whatever on. She must be a college student, since she had a backpack at her feet and a lanyard hanging from her pocket. You didn’t recognize her, so she was probably your senior. She gave you a subtle glance before turning back to her laptop, and you ignored her. Walking (more limping) up to the cashier.

“Welcome. It’s pretty late,” said a man who didn’t seem too young, but nor too old. Probably in his mid - twenties. He had a small stubble on his chin and his longish hair is tied back, a few rebellious strands framing his decently structured face. You could make out his toned chest and broad shoulders underneath the beige button up he wore, a dusty pink apron around his waist, accompanied by a pair of black slacks. He’s attractive, you couldn’t deny. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late for a pretty little lady like you to be walking around, alone, in a tee shirt?”

“I’m fine on my own,” you admit, “I’ve been here a few times, but I can’t remember the menu. Mind handing me one?” The man nods, reaching over something to grab a one sided menu, and he hands it to you. After glancing over it, you felt too nauseous to eat, but you needed caffeine, something to keep you going since sleep wasn’t going to be an option for you tonight. “Can I just get an americano? Make it large, please, I need it.”

“Oh, coffee at this hour?” He chuckles.

“This is a coffee shop,” you glance around, a little agitated.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man laughs out, waving a hand as he pressed a few buttons on the cash register, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. Is that all you want? An americano, large?”

“No, get me the green tea, too,” you sigh, placing down the menu. It’s not like you to get bitter drinks, let alone two. You’re actually more of a sweets kind of person. But, since you’re not feeling too well, you just want hot, bitter drinks to keep you from going insane.

The man nods, “Hmm, tough night?” You nod slowly, “Surprised you came to a coffee shop. Most people who have rough nights usually hang around at the bar down the road. What made you come here of all places?”

“Well, it’s the first place I thought of,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t want a hangover in the morning either. I always know how those go. Never had the best luck when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, smiling wistfully for a moment before it turns into a bitter frown at the thought of your vague first time with Jisung. You shake your head slowly, subtly. It wasn’t a mistake. Not at all. It wasn’t bad luck. But, right now, it kind of feels like it. You’ve gotten more attached to Jisung than you have the years before you both started fucking around. “Plus, my friend used to bring me here. Thought I’d see the place alone.”

“Well, I appreciate you stopping by,” the man smiles down at you, and you give him a brief one back, “What’s your name? What should I put as the name, sorry.”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” you grumble out your name.

“Are you a foreigner?”

“No. My parents just aren’t born here,” you respond, having gotten the question hundreds of times in the past.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N) (L/N),” the man smiles, and you chuckle softly as he rings up the order, “My name is Jeongguk. I assume you go to the college down the road?” Jeongguk asks as you sit on one of the stools at the counter. You sigh, your shoulders dropping as you nod slowly. Watching as Jeongguk prepares the americano. “Ah, I used to go there. I already graduated.”

“What was your major?” You ask curiously.

“I was a fine arts major. I only have my undergrad, but I’m saving up to go back and get my masters,” Jeongguk says.

“Oh,” your eyes brighten, intrigued by the sudden conversation, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’ll you do with your masters once you get it?”

Jeongguk sighs, his head tilting slightly as he focuses his eyes on the drink in his hand, perfecting it, “I’m not sure, actually. There’s a lot of things I could do. I could just work under a company to make things for ‘em, like designs and shit like that. But, I’m more into painting. Heh, but there’s not much painting can get for you nowadays. I haven’t seen many jobs that take in painters, so I’m reconsidering whether or not painting should be my go - to.”

“Right,” you nod, completely understanding, “It’s an amazing skill to have, though. You could probably start up on social media and sell your works worldwide.”

“Social media’s never been my forte, but it’s a thought,” Jeongguk passes you the americano, and you don’t hesitate to take a sip of the hot drinking, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. But, you soon get used to it. “What’s your major?”

“Political science,” you chuckle.

“Oh - ho! We got a smarty - pants over here, now don’t we?” Jeongguk jokes as he grabs a white, bulky mug from a shelf. You chuckle, a bit flusters. Already feeling better from this conversation with him, “The only person I knew in political science was Chris! You know Chan? Bang Chan?”

“Yeah, he’s on my committee, we’re friends,” you shrug a shoulder.

“Nice. Let him know I said hi, won’t you?” You nod quickly, taking another sip of the coffee, “Is it as much work as they say?”

“Well, with this dumb team I was pressured into, yeah, it’s a lot more than most other people with different majors seem to have,” you answer, and Jeongguk nods slowly, listening intently as he puts a kettle filled with water on a small stovetop. He then turns to you and leans against the bar table separating you both, “It’s fine, though. I’m just doing it to get a job so I can provide myself with enough money to get what I need and a bit more to have what I want. People in that field get lots of money, you know?”

“Yeah, just depends on what you decide to be,” Jeongguk nods.

“I guess you’re right,” you nod slowly, “I’m most likely to graduate with my bachelors, but I’m gonna take law so I can be a lawyer. Either tort or criminal, I don’t mind.”

“Ah, those are tricky fields in law, aren’t they,” Jeongguk chuckles, and you nod slowly, “Well, I wish you the best of luck. By the way, when did you and Chris become friends? I’ve been friends with him for a few years, now, and I don’t recall him being with you.”

“Oh, I only befriended him at the beginning of the year,” you say, and Jeongguk nods, “I went to a party with my friend and met him there. We’re also on the same committee for planning for the school, so we got pretty close.”

“You mean the huge party right before school started up, don’t you?” You nod slowly, “Mm. I know just what party you’re talking about. I think I might’ve seen you. You looked familiar when you walked in, so it’d make sense. Let me guess, were you with one of Chris’s buds? I forget his name, but I think his family name is Han, right?”

Your eyes instantly roll, and you nod, “Yeah. Han Jisung. I went with him.”

“Ouch, what a reaction,” Jeongguk laughs, noting your eyes which rolled sassily, “Did he do something to you?”

“It’s a long story.” You admit. It’s not too long, actually. It could be simplified, but you didn’t want to talk about it to a stranger.

“I have time,” Jeongguk says, smiling brightly.

You raise a brow, “So do I, and I’m going to spend it drinking my coffee.” Jeongguk raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” And finally, Jeongguk finished your tea and gave it to you.

You both talked for the remainder of the night (well, morning) until the sun came up. You had about five coffees, trying different kinds that Jeongguk suggested, and another green tea with honey in it. You learned that Jeongguk graduated early, mostly since he didn’t have enough money, but he was also ahead of the rest of the year by a long run, so he privately graduated. He didn’t start working at the coffee shop until a few months ago, and works the night shift and was the only one there. Apparently, no one usually came in during his shift except for travellers passing by or the tired college students, which were more likely to come by and study.

You didn’t even notice it was morning until Jeongguk’s face illuminated with the sunlight over the city’s buildings. You both traded numbers, and you promised to come again during his shift on his days. He said he’d text you, but you weren’t too sure he would. You were at least thankful to not be totally alone that night, since part of you knew that Jisung was going to get to your head, and you’d be either upset or angry. Jeongguk was able to rid your mind of him, even if only for those five or so hours you sat there, talking to him.

But, once you walked into your dorm to change into a quick pair of different clothes, all you could think about is Jisung. Debating your feelings.

You, however, constantly repeated to yourself that you didn’t even like him like that. He’s only a friend. Only a friend. Have it be with or without benefits, he’s only a friend.

You decided to just wear a pair of baggy sweats and an old hoodie, not caring much for your appearance. Although there’s tons of caffeine running through your system, you were still exhausted from the lack of sleep, and your mood had been dropped. You knew there was probably going to be another meeting today with Chunae, but you couldn’t be too sure. You didn’t get any work done last night (obviously), and you don’t know whether or not you’ll hear it from her or not, whether or not she’ll pull you out of class again for a meeting you could care less about.

You didn’t see Jisung for the first few hours of school, per usual. He didn’t try texting you nor calling you, which you were a bit skeptical about, but you tried to ignore it. You’re supposed to be agitated with him. And, you are. You still cared for him, and you still miss him despite it being only one night. But, then again, he probably didn’t miss you the way you missed him.

He would miss you, sure. But he wouldn’t miss the way you kiss him, right? He wouldn’t miss the way you hold him. The way you love him.

But, you’re not in love with him.

You can’t be.

You did see Chris, though. He actually walked up to you during passing hall and pulled you aside, against a wall. He wore a concerned, tired look as he folded his arms. Staring down at you, and rose a brow. It was silent for a moment until you emit a low, “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Jisung?” Christopher says sternly, and your blood runs cold right then and there. Your eyes widen and your brows raise as you stare up at him. Did he know? You’re too scared to answer.

“What… do you mean?” You utter out.

“Jisung called me last night asking if you were at my dorm last night at, like, midnight. Woke me up when I should’ve gotten sleep…” Christopher grumbles, rubbing his temple, “He said he thought you would have run off to my place. Didn’t say shit as to why, though. Didn’t say a damn thing. The boy even asked me to go to your dorm to see if you were there, but no one answered. I figured you were asleep. I just need to know why Jisung had to call me at fucking midnight ‘cause of you.” Christopher’s Australian accent slips into his Korean, which means he’s probably both irritated and tired.

“Oh… I’m sorry. No, I was out at some coffee shop until, like, five in the morning last night,” You answer truthfully, and Christopher sighs, “Oh, and by the way. I talked to Jeongguk there. He said hello.”

“Really, now? Jeon Jeongguk?” Christopher asks, and you shrug a shoulder, “Well, I appreciate it. Tell the guy I miss him. But, that’s not the point. At this point, I’m kind of concerned. I went over my conversation with Jisung last night all morning and yet I can’t find a single reason why you would be running to my dorm like he thought or why he didn’t go see you himself. Did he do something wrong?”

“It’s not that it’s wrong. I’m just upset about it,” you answer, and Christopher nods slowly.

“Do you mind telling me what that is? If you do, it’s a possibility I can help,” Christopher suggests, but you smile and slowly shake your head.

“It’s not something you can help with this time, Chan,” You sigh, “It’s a bit too personal.”

“Okay, now I’m really concerned. I might have been Jisung’s friend longer, but I care about you, too, (Y/N). Please tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s happening between the two of you. And if it’s really that personal, I promise on my life not to tell anybody,” Christopher says.

You sigh and look around before grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him away to somewhere more private. He didn’t argue, but he seemed a bit surprised at how quickly you acted. You pulled him out to the courtyard, not caring much for being tardy, anymore. Your heart thumped in your chest. The rules vividly recite themselves in your mind; “No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.”

Well, here goes one rule flushed down the toilet.

Once you stopped, Christopher shoves his hands in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders at you, “Okay, now what is it?”

You shake your head slightly, debating whether or not to tell him. If Jisung found out, it’d be the death of you. But, you don’t know if you should be excited about that or scared. You’re not sure how he’d react to such news from Christopher.

You know what, fuck it, you thought to yourself.

“Well?”

“We’ve been fucking since the party,” you blurt out, and Christopher’s brows raise in shock. At both the news and how flat toned and blunt you were being. “I got a bit too tipsy and we ended up having sex. We made specific rules, which is so dumb of me to say since one of them is to literally tell nobody. Which means you can’t tell anyone and you can’t let Jisung know that you know this or he will kill me, Chan. Kill me, got it? Whatever, it… he and I had a bit of a fight after doing it last night.”

“But why?” Christopher carefully asks.

“Because he’s after a girl. A girl I’m not too fond of,” you admit.

“Chunae, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” You raise a brow, glad he isn’t overreacting to your confession to sleeping around with Jisung.

“Let’s just say that he’s been flirting with her every chance he gets,” Christopher admits, and you sigh softly, looking down in disappointment, but trying your hardest not to make it too obvious about how upset you were, “They share some classes, and he’s apparently been talking to her every chance he gets. Not to mention, Chunae seemed pretty into him, too.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you sigh, tiredness suddenly coming over you, as well as exhaustion, “We fought about it, but I’m the one in the wrong. He has every right to like someone and want to date someone. But… I dunno.”

“Do you love him?” Christopher asks slowly, and you take a seat at the nearest bench, Christopher following behind you and sitting next to you.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully in a small voice, “I really don’t know. One part of me misses him so much whenever I’m without him. One part of me loves him, but the other part just tells me that he’s only my friend and nothing more. But, yeah. He wanted me to stay the night at his dorm, but I didn’t since he only had me over and treated me well because he’s going to cut things off soon.”

“Do you want him to cut things off?”

“No!” You yell, a little too upset with the situation, and Christopher breaths in through his nose. You cover your face with his hands, slightly muffled by your hands, “I don’t! But he says that we will, and I-” you don’t bother to look up, cutting yourself off before you start crying out of nowhere. Your head hurt from the lack of sleep, but your eyes hurt from the need and resistance to cry.

Christopher placed a warm hand on your back, and you breath slowly.

“I don’t want him to leave me, Chris… I really don’t,” you shake your head slightly. Christopher’s hand massages your back and shoulders reassuringly. His warm hand giving you the reassurance you needed.

“I know, (Y/N), I know. It’s alright,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into a hug. You don’t resist it. In fact, you lift yourself up to let your hands grip onto his shirt to hug him tightly, “If you’ll like, I can talk to Jisung. I won’t tell him that I know about the… benefits… but, I’ll let him know that you just don’t feel comfortable about his relationship with Chunae, alright? How does that sound?” Christopher’s voice is sweet and soft, calming you from your growing tears.

“That sounds perfect, Channie… thank you,” you whisper softly, your head burrowed in his chest.

It’s weird being held by another man. Another man that isn’t Han Jisung. It’s nice, especially since Christopher has such a loving and gentle personality. His hands hug you without any awkwardness, and it’s nice that someone other than Jisung can hug you without being uncomfortable.

But, your comfort was soon taken away when Christopher let’s go of you and shifts in his seat. You look up, and you see someone familiar walking towards you both. At first, your tears — blurred eyes make it impossible to see who it is, but once your eyes are cleared, Han Jisung’s perfect face comes into view. His face is stoic, his lips down turned in a subtle frown. His eyes are focused on you, and you stand up in your spot, clutching your backpack to get ready to leave.

“Don’t you dare move, (Y/N),” Jisung yells loudly, and you freeze at the spot. Christopher’s eyes widening from how aggressive Jisung sounded. Once he’s directly in front of you, he finally looks over to Christopher, and steps towards him, “I asked you to check up on her, Chan. Not do whatever the fuck you guys were doing just now.”

“What, comforting her?” Christopher stands his ground, standing up despite them both being the same height, “Something you should have been doing instead of me?”

Your hand clamps over your mouth. Jisung’s brows furrow, and his fists clench, but he doesn’t do anything, “I asked you a simple favor. To check up on her for me.”

“And that’s what I was doing,” Christopher defends himself, and you watch curiously. Neither of them spare you a glance, both staring at each other, “I’m not trying to pick a fight here, Jisung. But, it’s not my place to take care of her in… your situation.” Christopher looks Jisung up and down, and Jisung wears a disgusted look on his face. “I only asked what the fuck you did for you to think she was running off to me. ‘Cause, she was actually at the fucking coffee shop all damn morning talking to Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk?” Jisung’s brows furrow, and he looks over to you briefly. You slowly nod, “Did you sleep at all last night?” You slowly shook your head, and Jisung groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. He turns back to Christopher, “Can you leave, Chan? I need to talk to her.”

Christopher looks past Jisung to you, and you shake your head slowly. Somewhat afraid of being alone with Jisung just for what you will talk about. However, Christopher gives you an apologetic look before turning back to Jisung, “Fine. Call me later (Y/N). If you don’t, I’m stopping by your dorm to check up on you.”

“Alright… Bye, Chan…” You mumble loudly back, and Christopher gives Jisung a subtle glance before grabbing his things and walking away.

You sat back down, half expecting Jisung to do the same. But, no, he stood in front of you. Towering over you as you stared at your feet. His hands stuff themselves into his hoodie’s pockets, and there’s a tense silence.

“Jisung…”

“Why did you run off like that last night, (Y/N)?” Jisung immediately cuts you off, and you can’t find yourself having the courage to look him in the eyes. You felt embarrassed for yourself, but you had to stay and talk to him. You don’t know how to answer. You don’t have a straight answer in your tired mind. “Answer me, (Y/N). We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep quiet.”

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you breathe out, gripping the bench below you, “I… Was just irritated.”

“Why?” Jisung crouches down so you can’t avoid his eyes. Unlike how you thought, Jisung’s eyes were more concerned than angry, like you thought they’d be. His hand escapes his pocket to rest on your knee, “I knew you weren’t irritated. You were just fine before I started talking about Chunae.”

Caught red handed. You stared at him like a deer in headlights, and your lips purse, trying your hardest to find an answer.

“I don’t know, Jisung. I really don’t,” you whisper to him pitifully, and Jisung shakes his head.

“No… No, I know you know the answer, (Y/N). I can make everything better if you just talked to me,” Jisung says in a voice you rarely heard. He’s usually joking around or simply has such an upbeat attitude. It’s so rare to see Jisung this serious, it almost makes you want to cry by how it affects you so. The way his voice lowers, relaxing and calming, yet stern. The way his eyes weren’t bright or happy, but not cold or angry.

It was almost scary.

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with me,” you try to chuckle bitterly, dodging his stare. But, his head moves with yours, and his hand that rests on your knee rises to firmly cup your cheek, turning your head to look directly at him with no exceptions.

“Because there is. There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jisung answers.

“Jisung,” your voice hardens, your heartbeat rising as Jisung’s words tug and pull at your heart, “I need to get to class. I’m already very late.”

“No, you’re staying here until we figure this out,” Jisung’s other hand grips your wrist, tugging at it, even though you never moved to get up in the first place. He seemed on edge, and took a brief glance behind him before turning back to you, “You’re my best friend for life, (Y/N). You know that. I care so much for you, and if there’s something wrong with my decisions, then I need you to tell me.”

“I…” your eyes close for a minute, nibbling on your bottom lip before looking up at him, “I don’t want you to cut things off between us, Jisung. I want to keep doing this… whatever this is. It makes me happy, Jisung.”

“Oh, (Y/N)...” Jisung sighs softly, his head dipping for a moment before he looks up at you with a pitiful smile, “Is that why you were mad last night?”

“So what if it is? You won’t do anything about it,” you answer, and Jisung’s brows furrow, “Even if I begged on my knees for you to keep doing this with me, you’d still reject me, wouldn’t you?”

“I — (Y/N), you know that I—“

“Wouldn’t you?” You cut him off, your glossy eyes boring into his. His hand falls from your face, resting on your thigh, and he squeezes it slightly.

“It depends…” Jisung answers truthfully, “On what I’m rejecting you for.” Your frown deepens, upset with his answer. Even so, you would’ve been upset if he said no. “If it’s for something stupid, like someone told me to stop or I had moral changes, hell no. But if it were for something like… like Chunae and I… then yes.”

You don’t answer him. You just stare at him, blinking every so often to try and keep away the growing tears. He would choose Chunae over you. Of course. You should have known. Everyone loved Chunae. Chunae deserved everyone’s love for how pretty, smart and proper she is. Of course Han Jisung would reject the sassy, immature and lazy (Y/N) (L/N) for a perfect woman like Chunae. You’re not a perfect woman. Not at all.

Not for Han Jisung.

It was then, at that moment of thoughts of Chunae and Jisung running through your head that you came to a sudden realization as you stared into Jisung’s worried eyes.

You’re in love with him.

You’re in love with Han Jisung. Your best friend.

“Get away from me,” you mumble.

“What…?” Jisung’s brows furrow.

“I said get away from me,” your broken voice whimpers out, “You make everything so much harder for me. Everything…” You shove away his hands and stand up, but Jisung is quick to scramble up and wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back as his face burrows into your neck.

Your heart burns badly. It’s painful, too painful. You feel as though you’re going to collapse from how painful it is.

“Don’t go, yet. Please. You’re confusing me, (Y/N),” Jisung whispers into your neck, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

“No. I said get away from me,” you try and push him away, scooping your arms under his to try and push him away. But, Jisung is oddly persistent.

But, you eventually get away, grabbing your things and dashing off.

“No, (Y/N), wait! Please!” Jisung yells after you, but you're already to the building doors, throwing yourself into the building and dashing to the girl’s bathroom to recollect yourself.

And, thankfully, it’s empty. You throw your backpack down and lean against the sink. Finally, you let the tears fall. They fell down your cheeks fast and hot, the aching feeling of relief in your mind allowing you to breath slowly as the tears dripped mercilessly down your face, showing no signs of stopping.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you cried. You were quiet. Making no sound other than sniffling here and there. You don’t even try to wipe away the tears that stain your face, too bothered and eager to cry to do so. Your eyes grow red and big, your cheeks reddening from the tears and your heart aching badly in your chest.

Once the thought of being in love with Han Jisung enters your mind, you look away from yourself. Your head falling, and you grip your hair. Shaking your head in your arms, Letting out muffled, “No, no, no!”s as you started to weakly, softly sob. Your body trembles with your tears.

You can’t be in love with Han Jisung. It’ll only end in your heartbreak. Jisung will cut things off immediately, and probably push you away once he finds out. You can’t for the life of you let him find out. You’re too scared to tell him yourself, so you have to keep it a secret from anyone who might be able to tell him and have him believe it. It’s too risky, so you’d have to keep this painful secret to yourself, no matter how badly you wanted to babble on and on about how much you hate this feeling and about how good he makes you feel, emotionally and physically.

You didn’t say a word to anyone after your short breakdown in the bathroom. You soon grew too tired to cry, and too stressed to go back to class, so you waited out that period before your lunch hour would come by. You didn’t know where to go. There would be girls hogging the bathroom, and hundreds of other students roaming the campus. You really didn’t want to be around people at this point, but you didn’t have much of a choice in the first place.

So, you went to the courtyard. You called Christopher, telling him about what happened, and he said he was going to be there right away and to meet him by the outdoor canteen. So, you sat at an empty table, waiting.

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, wearing a blank, stoic expression as nothing was present in your all — too tired mind. Your backpack resting against your leg as you waited.

When you hear loud footsteps coming near, you look up. Not expecting who it was at first. It’s Chunae, and she looks on edge and upset. Her perfectly tinted lips frown darkly at you, and she stops in front of you.

“And where were you last class period?” She asks, and you raise your brow, turning off your phone and resting it on the table.

“Not there? Why do you care?” You scowl back at her, staring up at her with a dark glare. However, she doesn’t seem to back down, only to get angrier.

“I was supposed to give you more papers for people to contact, as well as parents and volunteers,” she throws a stack of papers in front of you. And you gawk at it. She already gave you so much shit to do beforehand, why the hell is she giving you more? You already have enough work, she should know that. She knew as well as the rest how busy political students are. And she had the audacity to throw a stack of papers on your desk and demand you to analyze and contact each person? “I want them done by this weekend, no exceptions.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Chunae,” You scoff, smiling bitterly at her. Your own anger rising, “I already have enough shit from the other stack of documents you thrusted down my throat on top of my school work. I’m not doing all this shit in less than a week!” You nearly yell, but you don’t raise your voice too much. You thrust an angry finger at the stack.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Chunae sighs, “I’m not in the best of moods right now. I don’t want to deal with bullshit right now when we’re on a tight schedule. This event is in danger of being shut down completely if we don’t finish it soon.”

“And does it look like I give two shits?” You sarcastically smile.

“Don’t joke with me, (Y/N), and please control your language. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Oh, boo — hoo,” you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair, “What do you want? A cookie?”

“Don’t, (Y/N). I swear.” Chunae vaguely threatens, and you smirk.

“You swear what?” You urge, standing up slowly. Taking a step towards her, and she takes a small one back. Her expression doesn’t change. Her dead, yet beautiful brown eyes glaring into yours, “What’ll you do? Give me more paperwork? Tell me off to Daddy? Punch my teeth in?” You glare down at her hand, cocking a snarky brow at it before glaring at her, “I’d like to see you try to lay a finger on me.”

“Like you could do any better,” Chunae snaps, and you’re surprised how she’s snapping back instead of de — escalating the situation. It makes you excited. The urge to punch her only grew, “Your words are louder than your actions, (Y/N). Don’t underestimate me.”

You laugh loudly, “Ha! That’s funny! You… scary? Hey, I give an A- for effort, how about it?” You elbow her arm jokingly before turning back to glare through the paperwork she so selfishly threw your way.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Chunae snaps.

“You forget who’s older.”

“You forget who has Han Jisung.”

You freeze. The paper falling out of your hand as you turn slowly to see a smirking Chunae. Smiling as though she killed off her worst enemy. Your mouth falls open, and you scoff.

“What… the fuck did you just say?” You grumble darkly, her hands balling into fists at your sides.

“I said… You forget who has Han Jisung,” she repeats slowly.

You had heard her loud and clear. Just like you heard Jisung when he confessed his adoration for Chunae. You were just in shock. You did not expect this out of someone like her. And, just like that, all your respect was lost for the woman. She crossed a border she could never escape. She’s crossed a line she can never retract over. She’s pushed buttons inside you that can’t be fixed.

“I dare you to say that again.” You growl through gritted teeth, and in the corners of your eyes, you can see Christopher walking up. But, a small crowd had started to watch you and Chunae. He stops by them, deciding not to intervene physically.

“(Y/N)?” Christopher yells, and you turn your head to him. “Is…” He grows silent when he sees your angry glare.

You turn back to Chunae, Christopher watching silently, prepared if anything happens. He pulls out his phone, and presses a few buttons before pressing it to his ear. Speaking to the person on the other line under his breath. You could care less, though, and you mainly focused on Chunae.

“I said I dare you to say that again!” You finally yell, and the people in the canteen grow silent. All heads turning to the both of you, and Christopher continues talking on the phone to whoever it is. Your hand flies up, gripping the hem of Chunae’s blouse. Pulling her intimidatingly close. You’re slightly taller than her, so she looked up at you.

Chunae only chuckles softly, “I have Han Jisung… He’s mine, isn’t he?”

As if on cue, your fist, knuckling white from clenching it so hard, comes into contact with Chunae’s cheek right as an out of breath Han Jisung comes running to the scene. But, you’re too busy to pay him any mind.

Of course, like you expected, Chunae flies to the ground. Immediately cupping her face and letting out a brief cry. And, just like that, you’re the bad guy. You sigh and roll your eyes. Shaking off your hand, which aches slightly from the impact on her defined cheekbone. You turn to Christopher and Jisung. Jisung stands there, staring between you and Chunae, who lay on the ground, holding her black and blue face. Christopher just gawks at you.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Jisung yells.

“Hey, before you overreact, I can explain…”

But, you’re quickly cut off when you feel a yank at your ankle, and you let out a yelp as you get yanked down. Your body yanked down, and the top of your head slams against the table you were sitting out, letting out a loud thunk through the air. And, you can briefly see Jisung trying to run up, but Christopher holds him back briefly.

Your hand flies up to your head, dizziness overtaking you as your mind falls blank for a second. Your head begins to throb, and you hiss through your teeth. However, you’re not gifted with enough time to get over the pain like Chunae did before she towers over you. Her high heels are kicked off, and she presses the ball of her foot into your chest, forbidding airway.

You’re a little too dizzy to think, but you’re conscious enough to react. Your hand flies up on instinct, your hands gripping her ankle and twisting it with your hands, causing her to fall. Before she could have time to get back up, you climb back on top of her and straddle her stomach.

She kicked and struggled, but your hands gripped her wrists (all too familiar with this position with the help of Jisung), pinning them to the ground. Your head aches, throbbing painfully. You’re still dizzy, trying to stay conscious from both the lack of sleep and from your head hitting the table.

“Hey! Hey, calm down. Just, oh fuck, my head. Oh, my god, Chunae, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You grumble as you squeeze your eyes shut, as if that would ease the pain. But, it doesn’t.

Jisung and Christopher eventually come over. Jisung’s arms wrap around you, just below your breasts as he pulls you off. You don’t struggle, but Chunae does. Christopher struggles pulling Chunae away, who still tries to pummel you.

She got a good hit on you. But it wasn’t really her. She just yanked your ankle, which threw your head against the table. You melted into Jisung’s arms, and he helped you to your feet carefully. Every movement made your headache worse. It blistered your head, sending shots of pain through your body. You tried your best to stay conscious, but it was a bit more difficult than one might seem. So, you focused on the way Jisung’s hands held you to try and keep you awake.

You faintly heard a teacher running over, asking about what the hell was going on. Jisung excused him, saying that there was a fight but it’s been handled and he’s taking you to the nurse’s office. So, the professor let you and Chunae go without much argument (probably not wanting to deal with something like this in the middle of the day.

But, Jisung didn’t take you to the nurse’s office. Christopher did, though, dragging a struggling Chunae away to the nurse’s office with no help. Jisung whispered incoherent words to you as one of his hands gripped your waist, the other holding your hand as you stumbled on your own two feet. Your vision blurred and your stomach erupted in pain. You had a concussion, all because Chunae as able to swipe at your ankle.

You were in too much pain to think clearly, hanging onto Jisung, “Ji… my head hurts so fuckin’ bad.” Your words are muffled by the lump in your throat that grew from the pain.

“I know, baby. She got you pretty good, didn’t she,” Jisung’s soft words seem to calm your head a bit, but it goes away the moment your foot plants on the ground to take another step, “It’s alright… I’m sure she wasn’t in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Shut up,” you grumble out, and Jisung sighs softly, squeezing your waist briefly as he walks you through a pair of doors and down a hall.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Let’s not talk about Chunae right now. Let’s just get you to rest for a bit,” Jisung reassured, and you thanked whatever god is out there that he’ll shut up about Chunae.

“Where’re we goin’?” You look around, squinting through your blurred vision, as if that’d help (news flash; it didn’t).

“Back to my dorm,” Jisung answers, and you turn to him, “Jeongin isn’t back, yet, so don’t worry. Besides, we have better shit than the nurse will give you. She’ll just give you an ice pack and tell you to move on with your day, now won't she?” You think about it for a moment, although nothing goes through your mind. But, you agree with him and nod slowly.

The rest of the walk is silent. Sometimes, you’d nearly trip over your own feet, but with Jisung’s hand on your waist, he always caught you and whispered words of reassurance that never truly got all the way through your brain. Eventually though, you both made it to Jisung’s dorm. He unlocked it with one hand easily and threw the white door open. Not bothering to flick on the light before he walked in, kicking the door closed, and sat you on his bed.

Once you sat down, you felt like you’d been holding the world on your shoulders. You got a bit of relief since you weren’t moving around as much, but it still hurt like a bitch. Your head throbbed, everywhere. Your body twitched in pain. You couldn’t think straight nor could you see especially clearly, and you felt like you were about to throw up all of the coffee and tea you’d had this morning.

Jisung shuffled through one of his drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. He took his chair from his desk and rolled it in front of you, sitting on it and placing the first aid kit in his lap before opening it. “Dad always said to keep it handy. Turns out it’s finally coming to good use. I just need to see if there’s a wound on your head.”

And, so, without struggle, you lay forward, your head resting on Jisung’s knee as he gently moved your hair to the sides, looking for something. He did end up finding a bruise on the top of your head and said that it would be best to leave it alone for the time being before icing it. He gave you a few pills of over the counter medication to help ease the pain. But, he seemed a bit conflicted. It was mostly silent, you didn’t really talk since you didn’t have the strength to nor the will to. Chunae might be pretty weak, but with a blow to your head on the table like that… that’ll fuck you up real good.

Once you’re laying against his pillows, Jisung finally pipes up again.

“Come here.”

“Hmm?” You look up, and Jisung’s legs are spread slightly, one hand on his thigh as he looked over to you. His hair shadowing his eyes slightly.

“I said come here, now don’t be stubborn,” He motions you over with his hand, and you groan and squeeze your eye shut as you sit up and slide off of the bed and walk up to him. Jisung guides you around and slowly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Jisung?” You mumble softly.

“Shh… This is going to help you with the pain, baby,” Jisung whispers against your ear, and you feel his press a gentle kiss to the back of your ear. You breathe in sharply, somewhat knowing where this is going as Jisung’s hand grips at your shirt. “It’ll make your head feel so much better, baby. I’ll make you feel good, alright?”

“Mm… how would that help?” You sighed out, your head already leaning onto Jisung’s shoulder, your eyes closing in relaxation as Jisung’s hands caressed your stomach, nearing both your breasts and your womanhood, but not daring to go near just yet.

“It’ll make all your muscles relax. It’ll make you feel better,” Jisung whispers into your ear, making you shiver, “Don’t you want that? You want me to touch you, babygirl?”

You can’t think straight. All morality and logic is thrown out your mental window, so you nod quickly without thinking. One your hands swiping up to caress Jisung’s neck as he pressed a few light kisses to your ear. “Alright, (Y/N). My sweet baby. Just relax for me, alright?” The praise makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you nearly forget that he’s only your friend. Your legs spread slightly, your back pressing to his chest. Letting him hold your weight. “That’s my good girl. My perfect (Y/N).”

His. His perfect (Y/N). Those words made you happy, oh so happy. Even if a thought couldn’t bear to finish in your head, you still enjoyed such words. It’s a break from the name calling and the dirty talk. It made you feel like the only girl in the world. Like Chunae was never a part of the picture to begin with.

Jisung’s hands slowly unbutton your jeans, his lips still pressing kisses to the side of your neck and your ear. Occasionally whispering short sentences like, “Good girl… That’s right… Oh, baby…” It makes you squirm in his grasp as he undoes your jeans and pushes them off of you. You weakly lift up your hips to help him a little bit as Jisung lets your pants fall to the ground with a low thud. You press your ass against Jisung, your leg spreading a bit more at the feeling of the cold air of the dorm meeting your clothed womanhood, which got wetter by the second.

You let your head lift, resting your head against Jisung’s cheek to let it rest, but you wanted to watch his hands as they softly caressed your thighs. Sending calming chills through your legs and your gut as his warm hands touched your thighs and hips ever so intimately. You melted into his touch, your lips parting to allow your low breaths to become audible. You could feel Jisung’s breath against your ear and your neck, and your neck craned slightly to feel more of it.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N), you know that?” Jisung’s low, sudden voice sent butterflies exploding in your stomach. You whimpered softly in response, not knowing how to respond to such praise, since Jisung was quite the degrader. He’d usually call you all sorts of dirty things. He’s probably taking pity on you since you’re hurt, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes you feel so happy and so turned on. “My beautiful baby…” Jisung whispers, seemingly to himself as his fingers brush over your clothed cunt.

“Jisunggie… don’t talk nonsense,” you utter out, sharply gasping when you feel the base of his fingers press against your clothed labia.

“What nonsense?” Jisung chuckles deeply, his fingers rubbing slowly circles, making your eyes close in bliss and your head rest against Jisung’s shoulder, your hands gripping the arms of the desk chair as Jisung’s other hand squeezes your inner thigh. “Don’t say that it’s nonsense. You’re only lying to yourself.”

You didn’t respond, basking in the pleasure and praise as Jisung’s experienced fingers rubbed along your clothes labia. Soaking your panties through with your juices (yet another pair of perfectly good underwear ruined by Jisung), the outline of your pussy showing through and letting Jisung touch even more sensitive areas.

He goes for a while without actually touching your bare womanhood. Mainly his index and middle finger rubbing and massaging your labia and over your pussy. Jisung’s eyes focused on his hands as he worked them over you. You feel yourself relax, the pain easing from you. You forget about the headache, the dizziness. The nausea and the aching throughout your body; forgotten. All that’s on your mind is how intimately Jisung touches you. How his experienced hands move over your sensitive pussy in such a delicate, yet firm way. So gentle, yet so emphatic.

So loving, yet so bitterly resistant.

Your mind grows blank. Too caught up in the relaxing pleasure and from overcoming your concussion to think straightly. All that keeps your mind wandering is Jisung and Jisung alone. Not Christopher. Not the man, Jeongguk, that you met at the coffee shop. Not even Chunae. Only Han Jisung.

After long minutes of slowly teasing your cunt, soaking your panties with your wetness, Jisung finally bids you one good deed and taps your hip. Guiding you to raise it as he slips them off slowly. Letting them fall down your legs and onto the floor below. You step out of them. Your bottom half now completely exposed, yet you still wear all that’s on your torso. You didn’t care, though. It was better than being fully clothed, anyways.

“Oh, fuck…” Jisung breaths out in a rugged manner as his fingers slowly brush over the lips of your pussy, your sweet wetness seeping from you, already coating Jisung’s fingertips, “You’re so wet for me, baby. So wet for me. It makes me want to fuck you so hard. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You frantically nod against Jisung’s head, watching as his fingers push against your labia and against your core. Firmly pressing against your clit, and your back arches as you grind your hips on his fingers. “But, I won’t. Not yet, anyways. I’m going to make you feel better, not make you scream and give you a headache all over again.”

Jisung chuckles deeply, as if what he just said was nothing more than a joke, but you didn't laugh along. He doesn’t seem to care, though, since you’re obviously so immersed in the way Jisung’s fingers rub your pussy gently. His lips part slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as his middle finger teases your entrance.

“Jisung, ahh~... Yes, please, just like that…” you whisper out in sharp breaths as Jisung slowly inserts his middle finger into you. Pumping slowly until his knuckles are pressed against your heat. “Fuck, yes… Love your fingers so much, Jisung - ah.”

“I know, baby,” Jisung tenses below you at your words, and his finger slightly curves inside you, making your leg twitch. But, his hand that caressed your thigh gripped your leg, keeping you steady on his lap. “I don’t usually get to finger you like this, do I? Letting my hands do all the work, hmm?”

No, he didn’t. But damn, you wanted him to more often. You didn’t answer, only with a delicate moan as Jisung’s middle finger slowly pumps itself in and out of you. Curving slightly every time it thrusted into you to hit that special spot. Sending chills through your torso as his finger worked inside you so well. Your walls clench around him, despite how he was going slow. It wasn’t painfully slow, but not enough to make you cum quick enough. It’s a slow burn. Slowly building up your sensitivity as his palm pressed against your clit.

“You take my fingers so well, (Y/N) - ah… You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” Jisung comments, his voice low, yet gentle. Soft to the ear, and not as aggressive and dark as it tended to be during sex. It sent you on an overdrive. It drove you crazy by just his tone of voice. It made your heart ache and your pussy wetter and wetter. “You don’t know how hard this is for me, baby…”

Oh, you knew. You can feel his hard dick pressing against your ass. The only thing keeping you two apart was his few articles of clothing. But, no matter what he was wearing, you could still feel how he ached underneath you. You mentally applauded him, but you were too lost in the lust to actually bid him something of a congratulations for being able to hold back this long (since he was usually pretty desperate to get his dick inside you).

It’s another minute or so until Jisung pushes in another finger. Slowly stretching you out and making you moan even louder. The way his fingers curled ever so slightly inside you, hitting that special spot over and over again drove you insane. His fingers pressing against it firmly with the tips of it. Your mind hazed with lust and desire, and your craving for him grew even bigger and even more intense.

“Shit, Jisung - ah… That feels so good ~,” you moan out as you meet with Jisung’s knuckles, grinding into his fingers.

“Hmm… does it, baby? You feel good?” You nod slowly to his words, and Jisung breathily chuckles, smiling, “See? I said it would help.”

“I don’t care about that…'' you sigh out softly, although it wasn’t entirely the truth and you were thankful that Jisung’s suggestion was able to subside your headache. “I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

Jisung’s fingers stay inside you, his hand pressed against your throbbing pussy as he looks at your face. You already looked so fucked out. So desperate, your eyes craving and needy. “Are you sure?”

You slowly nod, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his lips briefly. It wasn’t too sloppy, but your tongue brushed over his lips, “Yes, Jisung… I want you to make me your bitch…”

“Oh, sweet, sweet (Y/N)...” Jisung chuckles darkly, his hand pulling itself from your pussy, making you twitch and gasp loudly as his wet hand flies up to grip your cheeks. Pushing your head back slightly as his fingers press into your jaw, holding your head in place as you clenched around nothing. Your pussy craves both release and Jisung ever so badly.

“You were my bitch since the beginning,” Jisung’s voice grows familiarly dark, and you try to clamp your legs shut from the chills that run through your womanhood. But, Jisung’s hand yanks your legs apart. “Keep your legs spread for me. I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You let out a breathy moan, and, at first, you thought Jisung was going to pull you into a kiss. But, he didn’t. He chose a rougher path. He quickly pushes you off of him. Standing up and pushing you face first onto the bed. The back of his hand pushing your face down into the sheets, the other guiding your hips up slowly. Spreading your legs for him. Such a dirty position, your dripping pussy on display for no one other than Han Jisung.

But, he doesn’t spend much time staring at your pussy. Instead, his hands grip your wrists, and he grinds his clothed, hard cock against your wet pussy. He let out a breathy moan, leaning over your so he was next to your ear as he whispered, “You see how hard you make me, (Y/N)? You see you fucking riled up you make me? Makes me want to fuck this pussy all damn day. Have you sit on my cock all fucking day, huh?”

You moan out in response, your hair spread as your hoodie fell down. Your bra is slightly exposed, and Jisung pulls himself up. Basically ripping off your bra and tossing it to the side. Not even bothering with the hoodie itself as he tore down his jeans.

You couldn’t watch him, so you knew he was fully exposed when you heard the snap and fall of his boxers. It’s almost an instant when his throbbing head comes out and presses against your pussy. Your lips fall wide open as Jisung rubs his cock over your soaking pussy.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Jisung moans out lowly, “So ready for my cock, like always. So desperate for me. So needy for me cock, aren’t you? Already so fucked out and I haven’t even put my dick inside you yet. Such a slutty girl…”

You moan out, your back arching, presenting yourself more to him, “Jisung! Jisung, please just fuck me…! I need it so bad, please…So bad…” You breath out rapidly, clutching the sheets.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath in response to your begging, “Since you asked so nicely…”

And, like an instant, Jisung was inside you. His hips pressed against your ass, his hands guiding your hips back to meet with his. You let out loud strings of moans and groans of Jisung’s name and incoherent words as Jisung fucks himself into you, raw. His dick throbs inside your wet walls. You clench around him desperately, your back falling limp as you succumb to the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N), you do so well in this po-position, don’t you?” Jisung breathes out raggedly, and you moan loudly in response. Jisung’s hands harshly gripping your hips and waist to have you meet back with his harsh, aggressive thrusts. His cock burns your hot walls, burning in such a blissfully good way, it makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Ji-Jisunggie -ah… It’s so… so good - oh, fuck! Just like that, please, just like that!” You scream out as Jisung props up one of his legs, allowing him to have a better angle to thrust even faster and harder. Ramming his rock hard dick into you with passion. Jisung’s hands trail around your waist and ass once you’ve started to bounce back, meeting with his thrusts on your own.

His hands knead your ass. Spreading your cheeks before firmly pressing them. One of his hands, however, reaches up. Slowly crawling up your back, and his hips stagger a bit as his hands grip a handful of your hair. First, his hand merely presses against your head. But, at some point, he yanks you head back. Forcing you up from the bed, and you use your weak arms as support as Jisung’s hand yanks at your hair. You stare at the wall, but you don’t focus on it. You can’t. Your eyes keep rolling back or crossing, mixing beautifully with your loud moans.

Jisung uses the grip on your hair to give him a steadier rhythm as he thrusted into you. His hips slapping against your ass, making it bounce with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping, your loud moaning and Jisung’s groans and occasional dirty talk filled the room as Jisung pressed wet kisses to your neck. Suckling on the back of your neck especially, and you moan from the feeling of his tongue being flushed against your sweating skin.

It was so much, his cock, the pulling of your hair and his tongue on your neck. Your mind falls blank, thinking of nothing other than Jisung’s cock. Some drool dribbles down the side of your chin as your eyes water from the pleasure. You can’t say anything more, not even being able to form Jisung’s name correctly. You’re so fucked out, so beautifully fucked out.

Jisung definitely noticed it, too, since it gave him the courage to start biting your sensitive skin. It was more sensitive in some places, and you immediately knew that he left hickeys. He bite them gently, yet firmly before running his tongue over the markings.

Your pussy clenched around him dangerously tight. So tightly, it makes Jisung let out a low, broken moan and makes his hips stagger and twitch as he presses himself deep into you. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, babygirl? You gonna cum for me like the good little slut you are? Cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum for me,” Jisung groans out loudly, pressing your head against the sheets again, muffling your loud moans as you feel your climax nearing.

Your knees buckle as your legs twitch and tense dangerously tightly as you feel yourself cum hard. Jisung slows down slightly, riding you out on your high. Your loud moans turn into high pitched ones as your back spasms from the intensity of it.

Right after you cum, Jisung quickly pulls out of you before shooting ropes of white cum onto your ass. You breathe heavily, trying your best to catch your breath as you listen to Jisung moan loudly once he cums, too. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you feel your entire body relax. All your muscles calm. Exhaustion washes over you like a tidal wave.

And you’re out like a light.

Jisung was a bit concerned as to why you fell asleep so easily. But, he didn’t argue. He gently cleaned you both up while you slept and changed you into a pair of his clothes after he realized you wouldn’t wake up even if he blew an air horn in your ear. He laid you in his bed, as comfortably as he could make you. He wiped the sweat off of your face and watched your sleeping face for a few minutes before he moved back to his desk, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and opening it. Opening work for his classes, since he’ll be absent for the rest of the day.

You slept exceptionally soundly, and he was thankful for that.

Jeongin actually came back that night, too. At first, he didn’t see you sleeping in Jisung’s bed, but once Jisung motioned for him to be quiet, Jeongin looked over to his bed to see locks of (H/C) hair poking out of the blanket. He wondered why you were here, and Jisung naturally just said that you had gotten into a fight and injured yourself and he was taking you in to take care of you. Jeongin didn’t argue much and minded his own business for the rest of the day.

However, Jisung intended to sleep next to you. But, he couldn’t bring himself to. The guilt piling inside him prevented him from doing so.

#han jisung #jisung #jisung han #han #skz #stray kids #stray kids angst #smut #jisung smut #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz angst #jisung x reader angst

[hargrove-mayfields]

Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #harringrove #it’s implied harringrove at least because Steve is the boyfriend in question #story by ej! #ej writer #this is really sloppy but I wanted to just get this outta my drafts so here ya go #it was also initially from a much larger story #I just decided this was the only part I like #if you take note of the date tho I think y’all can probably tell where I was going with this #just wanted to write Billy coming out to Max because we as a fandom kinda decided that she already knew bc of that one vague convo #but like that stuff is really hard to pick up on when you’re the clueless little sister #(trust me lol) #I think it’s more something like maybe she snitched on him for doing smthn neil knew was Bc he was gay but she didn’t #and she never put the pieces together until he told her #featuring (subtle) autistic Max bc when doesn’t my writing #and colorblind Billy if you squint with the nail polish

[ssahotchhner]

don’t trust cops

Hi, I didn’t really proofread this so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes! This is a oneshot, there won’t be any follow up. Basic synopsis is that Hotch suspects that the reader is in an abusive relationship.

pairing: hotch x reader

words: 5.2k

warnings: guns, intimate partner violence, verbal abuse, cursing

questions, comments, concerns

At first, there were little signs. Things Aaron brushed off as him always looking for the bad guy. You would show up to work with bruises on your arms or legs and claim you got them in the field. When you were watching an interrogation, if someone raised their voice you almost always flinched. The bags under your eyes had gotten darker, as if you weren’t sleeping. You were more attached to your phone than anyone could remember and refused all invites to come out after work.

“You asked for me?” You say one day in Hotch’s office.

He nods, “Sit, please.” He gestures to the seat in front of his desk.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ask as you sit.

He quickly shakes his head, “Not at all, your work is more than satisfactory.”

“Okay,” You say slowly, “So… What can I do for you?”

“I’m worried about you, I just wanted to check in. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

You frown, “I’m… sorry, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He gestures to your collarbone where your shirt has slipped to reveal a fresh purple bruise, “You come in here everyday with new bruises. You check your phone consistently every thirty minutes and get hostile if anyone points it out to you. You flinch at loud noises, should I go on?”

While he was talking you had lowered your head to watch your hands, your thumbs fiddled with each other in your lap, “While I appreciate your concern, Hotch, I believe that my personal life is not your concern as long as it doesn’t affect my work.” 

“Y/N, I just want to help, I can intervene if you are in danger--”

“If that’s all, sir, I’d like to get back to my desk, I have a lot of reports to finish.”

He stares at you for a moment more before sighing, “Of course.” He watches you leave his office, feeling useless. There wasn’t much he could do if you refused to be helped.

Soon after he called Morgan into his office, “What’s up, Hotch?”

“Morgan, I need you to keep an eye on Y/N.”

He frowns, “Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure. I… have suspicions that there’s domestic abuse going on at home, but she won’t let me help.”

Morgan immediately goes into protective mode, “Hotch, if there’s someone hurting her you can’t expect me not to show up at her door and beat his ass.”

“Believe me Morgan, I’d let you, but you could endanger her if she’s not ready to leave him. You know that.” 

Morgan looks like he wants to slam his fist into something, “I knew something was off with her.”

“I think we all do…” Hotch trails off as his gaze is distracted by the bullpen, “What is that?”

“Looks like… a flower delivery.” Morgan says and sure enough, the delivery man places the humongous arrangement on Y/N’s desk. She smiles and the girls flock around her as she plucks the card from the middle of the bouquet.

“An apology,” Hotch says, his blood boiling, but his voice is neutral, “For the bruises he gave her last night.”

“And so the cycle shall continue,” Morgan scoffs.

“Morgan, do not bring it up to her. She will ice you out as I’m sure she plans on doing to me and we need to be able to keep a close eye on her, understood?”

Morgan bangs his fists on top of each other, but he nods, “Understood.”

Hotch watches him leave his office, his eyes glued to you, but you don’t notice. You’re smiling a bit, for now. Happy until he hurts you again.

Aaron does his best to stay focused on his work and not to think about you or monitor your every move, but it proves significantly difficult and so a few days after he talked to Morgan, he calls Garcia into his office.

“Do you need something, sir?”

“Close the door, please, Penelope.”

“Is something wrong?” Penelope frowns as she closes the door.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Hotch is more stressed than he’s been in a while, knowing you’re in danger and not being able to do anything about it has taken a significant toll on him.

“Sir?” Penelope asks, confusion evident in her voice.

“What I’m about to ask you to do stays between us, Morgan is the only other person who knows, understood?”

“Yes, of course. Hotch, you’re starting to scare me.”

He sighs, “I need you to dig into Y/N’s personal life and find whatever you can on a significant other.”

As expected, Garcia looks horrified, “Hotch, I can’t-- I can’t do that to a member of the team.”

“I understand what I’m asking of you, Garcia, but I promise it’s for her safety. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Garcia frowns, “Is she okay?”

“I think she could be in danger, but she won’t let me help officially which is why I don’t want you telling anyone. If she finds out about this she’ll isolate herself further.” 

“Okay,” Garcia’s nodding, “For her safety.”

“Let me know if you find anything.”

“Sir, what exactly am I looking for?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t know. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Garcia gets up and nods to herself, “I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.”

“Me too.” Hotch says to himself as she leaves.

***

It was three weeks later and Garcia hadn’t found anything. She had found the boyfriend, but there was no history of previous arrests or anything that would tip them off that he could become violent.

“This is good news right, sir? Maybe you were wrong?” But Aaron is frowning at the file, “Sir?”

He shrugs, “All this means is that he hasn’t been caught which is exceptionally common with abusers. He’s also law enforcement and… Well, I’m sure you know the correlation between law enforcement and domestic abuse.” Garcia was looking at Aaron like she was about to have a panic attack, “But, you’re right. It could be nothing. Thank you.”

Garcia looks like she’s going to leave, but then she turns back, “Sir, if… If you’re not wrong…”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to her, Garcia. I promise.”

Penelope seems reassured by that and leaves his office. Soon after, JJ comes in to let Hotch know there’s a case. 

“Is everyone here?” Hotch asks.

“Everyone but Y/N. I’ve texted and called her, but no answer.”

Hotch nods, “Thanks, JJ.” He tries calling you himself, just in case, but you don’t pick up. He ignores the tick of frustration he feels. Why don’t you trust him? You had worked together for years, he could help you. He had treated you like the rest of the team, like family. If anything, he had maybe grown a bit fonder of you than anyone else on the team.

“Where’s Y/N?” Morgan demands when Hotch walks into the conference room.

“She’s not answering her phone, we can start without her.” He nods to JJ, ignoring Derek’s pointed look.

“Hotch, it’s time to tell the team, I’m not leaving DC without her.”

Prentiss frowns, “What’s going on?”

Hotch meets Morgan’s eyes, “She could just be away from her phone.”

“You know as well as I do she doesn’t miss work calls.”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” JJ asks.

Aaron sighs, “I have suspicions that Y/N is in a domestic abuse situation.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Reid asks.

“Because I was worried if she found out that everyone was watching her she would mention it to him and isolate her from us further. I told Morgan to keep an eye on her and I had Garcia look into her boyfriend.”

“Garcia, did you find anything?” Prentiss asks.

She shakes her head, “Nothing.”

Prentiss looks back at Hotch, “And you’re sure about this?”

He shrugs, “All of her behaviors point to it.”

“Then someone should at least go check on her.” JJ says.

They all stare at Hotch, expectant, and finally he sighs, “Fine. Prentiss and Morgan, you go check on her and meet us in Baltimore.” When Prentiss and Morgan head out, Hotch turns back to the rest of the team, “JJ, continue.”

***

The text from JJ about a new case woke you in the morning along with the knocking at your door. Stretching, you rolled out of bed, “Coming!” You called to the door.

When you opened it, your boyfriend stood at the door looking stressed and angry. The usual feelings of anxiety and fear immediately flooded you, “Andrew, what is it?”

“You can’t go to work today.”

You frown, “What?”

“Your FBI buddies, they’ve been looking into me, did you tell them about me?”

Suddenly he’s on you, backed against the wall and you feel like you’re choking, “No, no, I swear, they-- They saw the flowers you sent,” You swallow, “But that’s all I swear.” 

He’s so close now you can feel his breath on you, “I don’t believe you.”

You immediately start crying, “Andrew, please, I swear--”

“Liar!” He backhands you and you taste blood. “What did I tell you about lying to me?”

“Baby, I promise,” You beg, “I promise I haven’t said anything. They’re expecting me, if I don’t show up they’ll--”

“They’ll what, huh? Call the cops? Is that a threat?”

“No.” You take a breath, trying to calm yourself down, “I just want you to know what’ll happen if you--”

“Well you should’ve thought of that before you told them shit about me!” He yells and you flinch. Immediately he goes for the vase of flowers he gave you a few days ago, swiping them off the table causing the glass to shatter near your feet, cutting into your ankles. You close your eyes and try not to react, thinking maybe that’ll calm him down.

“Andrew, I promise you I have not told them anything. They have no reason to look into you.” You say calmly, “And even if they did look into you they wouldn’t find anything, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Before you can even react, he’s punched you in the stomach, “Don’t talk to me like one of your unsubs, you stupid bitch,” He punches you again and you think you feel a rib crack, “You’ve always thought you’re better than me because you’re a fuckin’ fed.”

You can’t even respond because he’s knocked the wind out of you, your palms cut on the broken glass as you fall forward on the floor. “Can’t go to work like this now, can you?” Without waiting for a response, he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Almost immediately you collapse into sobs, hyperventilating as you try to pull the glass out of your hands and feet. You’re in the bathroom trying to clean yourself up and see how much damage has been done to the rest of your body when you think you hear Derek’s voice calling your name. “Fuck.” If you don’t open that door you know Morgan will just kick it down. You hadn’t cleaned up the glass yet and you had to walk tentatively to avoid the pain in your rib. 

Derek calls your name again. “I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t kick down the door.” You shout as you slowly make your way over.

When you open the door Emily is also there and you don’t even try to put on a show. There’s no point. You watch as they take in the broken glass and flowers lying on the floor, the blood on your mouth and the way you’re holding yourself to avoid pain in your ribs. “Did Hotch send you?”

“You didn’t answer anyone’s calls.” You can hear the shock in Emily’s voice.

You nod, “So being late results in uninvited visits with your guns out now? Must’ve missed that bit in the employee handbook.”

“He’s worried about you, we all are, and apparently with good reason.”

“I’m fine.” You say, and as if to demonstrate, grab a broom and start sweeping up the glass, “Brief me on the new case.”

Derek scoffs, “You’re crazy if you think you’re working on this case, you’re going to the hospital.”

“You can’t make me go to the hospital.”

“No, we can’t,” Emily says, “But you won’t be allowed in the field until you’re medically cleared--”

“My injuries are minor and weren’t obtained in the field. I’m allowed to work.”

“Hotch will bench you if you show up like this.”

“Then let him tell me that himself. Are you two just gonna stand there or are you going to help me clean up?”

Derek shares a look with Prentiss who shrugs and helps you clean up. For the most part they don’t say anything, but you can tell Derek is quietly stewing in his anger.

“If you want to say something to me then say it.” You’re in the bathroom now and he’s trying to help you pull all the glass out of your skin.

“I’m just trying to understand why an FBI profiler would put up with this kind of treatment.”

“It’s not always like this.”

“His violence is escalating, it was only bruises before this,” He gently touches your rib to confirm it’s broken, “It’s only a matter of time before he kills you.”

You look away from him, “Hotch asked Garcia to look into him, didn’t he?”

Morgan sighs, “She didn’t find anything.”

“Well whatever she did must’ve notified his precinct that the FBI was looking into him because that’s why he came here this morning.” 

Emily frowns, “Garcia’s more careful than that, she would know that that would put you in danger.”

You shrug, “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, he knew somehow that you guys were looking into him.”

Morgan is staring at nothing, his head lowered, “Derek, what is it?” Emily asks. You think you already know before he says anything.

“I… may have been following him on my free time. Sometimes I park outside of here and watch your window just to make sure you’re still alive when he leaves.”

You push past Morgan, too furious with him to even feel the pain in your ribs, “You had no right, none of you had any right.”

“This team is a family, we look out for each other.”

You’re pulling on a blazer and a pair of black boots, “If you two don’t take me to the crime scene right now, so help me God.”

They both look at you hopelessly, “Fine,” Emily says, “Let Hotch deal with you.”

***

The cuts in your feet along with your most likely broken rib make you a sorry sight as you have to limp into the Baltimore police station. The look on Hotch’s face when he sees you almost falters your rage, just for a moment.

“You made them look into Andrew after I told you I was fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” He looks to Morgan and Prentiss, “Why isn’t she at a hospital?”

“She insisted on coming here and working on this case.”

“You’re not working this case until you get checked out by a doctor.”

You lower your voice, “If I go to a doctor and get these injuries documented, you know what they’ll ask me.”

“Yes, I do. In fact, I’m counting on it.”

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out I’ve gotten medical attention.”

“You’ll be protected.”

“What if I don’t want to be protected? I love him.”

He watches you for a few more moments, “Prentiss, take her to the hospital.”

Prentiss lightly touches your shoulder and guides you out of the precinct and you glare Hotch down the entire way out. “She won’t forgive you for this.” Derek says, now at Hotch’s side.

“Maybe not, but at least she’ll be alive.” Hotch turns his full attention back to Morgan as Prentiss drives you away, “What did he do to her?”

Morgan sighs, “Looked like he hit her in the face, she was bleeding from her mouth. She had glass all in her hands and feet from a shattered vase and I think he may have broken her rib.”

“So he’s escalated.”

“Yeah, because he figured out I was tailing her.”

“Morgan, this is not your fault, I asked you to keep an eye on her. And besides, he would’ve just found another excuse.”

“So what do we do? DC police isn’t about to let us arrest him.”

“We hope that she lets us protect her and that he’ll come to us.”

Derek stares at Hotch for a second before it clicks, “You want him to come get her at our headquarters.”

“At a minimum he’ll be arrested for threatening a federal officer while she’s on duty. It’s the only way we’ll get him.”

“You’re comfortable using her as bait like that?”

“Derek, the alternative is him finding a way into her apartment and killing her before we get there, do you think that’s a better idea?”

Morgan sighs and simply walks away.

***

“I know what you guys think of me.” You say to Emily as she had been carefully avoiding meeting your eyes. You were in an emergency room, waiting to be called, “That I’m stupid for staying.”

Emily’s shaking her head, “No one thinks that. We’re just trying to understand why someone as smart as you, who has all the resources to get out as a federal agent, wouldn’t get out.”

“Come on, Emily, I’m a profiler too, all you guys had to do was check into my past to see why that is. Don’t tell me no one’s done that yet.”

“No one has done that because you’re not an unsub, you’re our family. Why else do you think I’m here with you right now and not working a case?”

You sniff and rub at your nose, “He’s not a bad person, he’s trying.” Emily won’t meet your eyes again. “He promised me he’d go to anger management.”

“How long ago was that?” Emily asks with a knowing look.

You take a shaky breath, “I won’t let you guys arrest him.”

“If he comes near you again we won’t need your permission.”

***

After your visit to the hospital, Hotch ordered at least two FBI agents to stake out your apartment every single day, 24 hours a day. You talked to Andrew on the phone, but you were firm that it was over this time, if only to save your career and your reputation.

He was angry, more angry than you think he’d ever been. He threatened you, threatened your team, accused you of cheating until you were forced to block his number. You didn’t tell the team about this. Didn’t tell them about the threatening gifts he left for you at work. Maybe if you had, things wouldn’t have been so terrible when Andrew showed up.

You didn’t know he was in the elevator with you until the doors had already closed and his arm easily wraps around your neck, his other hand pushing the barrel of his gun into your head. 

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” You don’t react.

“You’re about to walk into a bullpen with at least twenty armed federal agents, you won’t leave here alive.”

“I don’t intend to leave alive, I want them to watch me kill you. Sucks I have to do it with a gun, I would’ve liked to see the light drain slowly from your eyes.”

The elevator lights are ticking closer and closer to the floor your unit is on. “Andrew, I don’t want you to die. Don’t you love me?”

“You know I do!” His emotion finally shows, “You left me!”

“I know baby, and I’m sorry.” The elevator doors are opening, “Just put down the gun and we can talk about it, otherwise I can’t promise you’ll ever see me again.” Tears were threatening to spill over as you knew you were about to watch the man you loved get murdered by your friends.

“If I can’t have you,” He says shakily, marching you out of the elevator. Nobody’s noticed yet, “Nobody can.”

When he walks into the bullpen with you, at first your friends don’t notice, laughing about something circled around Reid’s desk. Penelope is the first to notice and her face drops, “Oh God.”

Then Morgan looks up. “Hotch!” He yells and then suddenly there’s about fifteen guns trained on Andrew.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You say shakily.

“Yeah, where is Agent Hotchner, huh? I’d like to talk to him about my girlfriend.”

You think maybe you can calm him down, “Andrew--”

“Shut up!” He screams at you, pushing the gun harder into your temple.

Aaron takes his time coming out of his office, no gun as he comes down the steps and enters the bullpen, “Why are you asking for me, Andrew, aren’t you going to kill her?”

“I wanted you to see.” Andrew says through his teeth.

“Why me?” He looks around him, “You have quite an audience already.”

Andrew starts laughing, “Why don’t you tell him, baby? Tell him why I want him to see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar!” He screams, “Why are you always lying to me? You think I don’t know what happened between you two? All those late weekends babysitting for Agent Hotchner.”

“It’s true sometimes Y/N comes to play with Jack if I have a lot of paperwork to do on the weekends, but only because Jack really likes her. But you put a stop to that, didn’t you? She hasn’t seen Jack in months.”

Andrew starts maniacally laughing, “You must all think I’m stupid. You’ve been fucking my girlfriend Agent Hotchner!” He finally removes the gun from your head and points it at Aaron, “Maybe I’ll kill you instead.”

“Andrew, don’t.” You hear the sound of safeties releasing.

“Okay Andrew, you win, I’ll tell you the truth.” You still in Andrew’s hold at Hotch’s words, “Y/N and I have been having an affair for months now.”

“Hotch.” You warn, but he goes on.

“She’s beautiful, young, intelligent,” He looks at you pointedly, “Incredible at her job. What’s not to love?”

You know what he’s doing, but you don’t want to do it. You shake your head, crying in earnest now, “Hotch, please.”

“I knew it! You son of a bitch!”

“Andrew, you have no one to blame but yourself. A low ranking DC cop, barely competent, you failed out of college.”

“Shut up!” Andrew says. You’re trying to steady your breathing as Hotch speaks.

“Meanwhile, your girlfriend graduated top of her class with an accelerated masters in criminal psychology, was recruited straight out of the FBI academy to join the BAU, the bureau’s most elite unit. Why would she want you? Especially when she could have me.”

“You better shut your mouth, man.”

“I have dozens of years of experience on you. I have a law degree. I hold several accolades from being in the BAU for so long, and of course, I’m the unit chief. But, hold on, I almost forgot. A real man knows how to satisfy a woman in bed, Andrew, but you’ve never been able to get your own girlfriend to orgasm, isn’t that right?”

Andrew is shaking his head ferociously and you know Hotch is about to deliver the final blow. Your signal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Except I do know, Andrew. And I can’t count the number of times I’ve made your girlfriend orgasm in my bed, all while moaning my name.”

“You stupid motherfucker!” Andrew yells and you spin in his arms. You move to grab the gun, your hand on it, but you’re not able to disarm him before the gun fires. At the very least, you’ve fucked up his aim and now you have his gun pointed at him, tears dried to your cheeks. Hotch knew Andrew’s fatal error had always been underestimating you. All the things Hotch had said were true. You outranked him, you were smarter than him, and you had more training than him. He was just as much talking to you just then as he was talking to Andrew, reminding you of your worth. Hotch knew that you would be able to disarm him easily if he was riled and distracted enough, but Andrew had never seen you as the threat you were until now as you have his gun pointed at his chest.

As soon as someone had cuffed Andrew, you dropped the gun, hands shaking and spun to see Hotch on the ground, blood on the floor, “Oh God.”

“I’m fine,” He winces, “It just clipped my shoulder. I knew you’d be able to get the gun away from him.”

You collapse on the floor next to him, “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see Jack in a while,” You say, tears falling down your cheeks again, “I really miss him.”

“Out of everything I just lied about in front of this entire bureau, that’s what you’re upset about?”

You nod, “I know he asks for me, it broke my heart when you stopped texting me the videos.”

Hotch nearly laughs, “I’ll send you some more as soon as I can.”

“How did you know?” You lower your voice, “About our sex life?”

“I didn’t.” He shrugs, “It was a guess.”

“Based on what?”

“You want to do this now?” Medics had arrived now and were looking at Hotch’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

He sighs, “All of his insecurities were focused on me from the second he walked in here. He couldn’t stand that he was subservient to you which would make trying to pleasure you in bed even harder for him. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that not only were you not equals, you were superior to him. I, on the other hand, outrank you. His biggest fear was that the only man who would ever be able to satisfy you was someone more dominant than you. I just played on that fear.”

You nod slowly, the medics are telling you they need to bring him to the hospital, “Thanks for making sure no one died in here.” You say finally and start backing away from him.

“You asked us not to hurt him.”

You sigh, “I know, but, still. Thank you.”

He offers you a small smile before the paramedics take him away, Penelope immediately rushing over to crush you into a hug, the rest of your team joining in. You had taken them for granted, punished them for caring about you. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

***

“Man, Jack, you beat me again!” You laugh and set down the Wii remote, the sounds of Mario Kart filling the room.

“Only because you let me.” He says with a grin.

“No, I would never do that!”

“I’ve watched you play with Daddy, I know you’re better than me.”

You giggle and ruffle his hair, “Or Daddy is a lot worse than you think he is.” 

There’s a knock at Jack’s bedroom door and Aaron walks in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, an outfit you rarely saw him in, “Dinner’s ready, go wash your hands, bud.” He announces and Jack immediately runs past.

“I should be going then, it was nice hanging out with him again.”

Aaron frowns, “Nonsense, stay for dinner.”

“Hotch, I couldn’t--”

“Please, stay. I made more than enough and there’s a bottle of wine I’ll need help finishing.”

You smile, “Okay.”

The dinner was full of laughs and Jack recounting all of his epic wins on Mario Kart before he finally started yawning. There was still a half a bottle of wine left when Hotch finished tucking in Jack.

“Thanks for dinner, Hotch, I really appreciate it.” You stand to put on your coat.

“I thought I asked you to help me finish this bottle.”

You laugh, “You really want me to stay?”

“I thought you would’ve figured out by now that Jack is just a ruse to get you to hang out with me.” He smirks and you roll your eyes and sit down again. “How are you doing?” He asks while he refills your wine glass.

You shrug and avoid meeting his eyes, “Fine.” You look up to see him staring at you, a knowing look on his face, “I’m serious, I’m fine. I actually think I owe you an apology.”

He frowns, “For what?”

“For shutting you out when you were just trying to help me.”

He shakes his head, “You were in love, I can’t blame you for that.”

You swallow, and maybe it’s the wine that makes you brave, but you finally ask the question you’d been thinking about since the day Hotch had gotten shot, “When you were talking to Andrew, lying about us having an affair… Did you profile me for any of that?”

He pauses, “I don’t think I understand what you’re asking.”

You sigh, “You said that someone like me would want a dominant man, someone who outranked me. Was that a lie or part of a profile?”

He watches you carefully, “You know as well as I do that all aspects of a profile won’t be correct, it’s just a guide.”

“But that’s what you think I would want from what you’ve observed.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

You gaze at him, mouth slightly parted, “You really don’t know?” He’s still staring at you so finally you sigh, turning your attention to the wine that you swirl around in its glass, “When I first started at the BAU I had a ginormous crush on you.”

He chuckles, “Really?”

You nod, allowing him a small smile, “Yep. It was very embarrassing.” You shake your head, “And then I met Andrew and…” You shrug, “Well, you know the rest.”

“And what about now?”

You look up at him and he’s looking at you so intently, concern written all over his face. And maybe a little bit of something else, too. “I’m not sure it ever fully went away.” You say softly.

He leans forward in his seat and gently picks up one of your hands, holding it in both of his, “I would be so incredibly lucky to love someone like you. I meant everything I said about you in the bullpen.”

You’re not sure you’re breathing, “You mean that?”

He searches your face, “Let me show you.” He says softly and then tips his face into yours. His lips brush yours tentatively, gauging your reaction. He’s nervous, you realize, which feels absolutely absurd to you. You carefully bring a hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb along his skin before deepening the kiss.

You feel his sigh of relief when you kiss him back. The kiss lasts for a few seconds before Aaron pulls away just an inch, “Would you like to stay the night?”

His voice is husky and deep and the beat of your heart quickens. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You say breathlessly.

And he smiles that rare smile and guides you up the stairs.

#mine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #hotch fluff #hotch angst #hotch smut

[let-them-read-fics]

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders. 

"...Y/N." 

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly. 

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." 

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you." 

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship. 

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement. 

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was. 

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy. 

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere. 

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today. 

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again. 

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer. 

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter. 

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded. 

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her. 

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return. 

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke. 

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life. 

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit. 

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast." 

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person. 

"You're too good to me." 

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time. 

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head. 

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond. 

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." 

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this." 

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you. 

"Okay." 

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in. 

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care. 

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy." 

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over. 

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips. 

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes. 

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again. 

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again. 

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics. 

-------

The Second Anniversary 

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction. 

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Come on, let's go inside." 

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house. 

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today. 

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us." 

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there. 

"Okay, we'll be there." 

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return. 

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much." 

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter. 

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now. 

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something. 

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other. 

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone. 

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely. 

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend. 

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh. 

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

#rosé #roseanne park #park chaeyoung #blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink x fem reader #blackpink angst #blackpink fluff #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #rosé x fem reader #rosé x reader #rosé imagine #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop girl group #let-them-read-fics #happy ending #ghostin' #ariana grande

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s field trip part 3

-Peter's POV-

After lunch Owen grouped us all

back together, including Wade, and took us around more labs. There was nothing particularly special about any of them until the corridor we were walking down became all too familiar. We stopped infront of a door to a lab, the door to my lab. Oh God.

"Now, for those of you who don't know and haven't guessed it yet, your class mate Peter works here. This is his lab and I was wondering if he would allow us to see what's inside. Peter?" Owen announced looking directly at me.

"Fine but you have to swear not to touch anything and not discuss anything you see with others." I warned them as I swiped my card and held the door open to all of them.

They all filled in and started looking around cautiously and with amazement. Many people noticed the prototype suits on mannequins at the back of the room. I was helping Dad, Pops, Bucky and Wanda with new designs for suits as well as trying to improve mine. It's been a challenge but we're making steady progress.

"Peter, Mr Stark has told me to ask you to open your connecting doors." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice rang out across the room.

"Oh dear lord." I sighed and moved to open one of the other doors in the room that connected mine and Dads lab.

There was also a door connecting to a storage closet filled with various building parts. The other doors lead to a bathroom, Pops' art room, The training room and a testing room. There was lots of doors but thankfully I labelled them all.

"What do y-" I started but cut myself off when I opened the door and saw the guardians stood in Dad's lab. Frick!

"Mini Peter!" Drax yelled pulling me into a very tight hug. What's with the bone crushing hugs today?

"What're you all doing here?" I asked pushing Drax away from me.

"Can't we visit our favourite earthling without a reason?" Peter asked putting his arm around me.

"You sound like Thor." I told him shrugging his arm off.

"Don't insult me like that." Peter told me jokingly serious.

"How come I don't get any love?" Wade asked appearing behind me.

"Hey! What am I here for?" I asked him trying to sound offended.

"Beside you." He said putting an arm around my waist and resting his head on mine.

"Hands off Wade." Dad warned with a scowl on his face glaring at my boyfriend.

"Alright Stark, alright." Wade said sarcastically and put his hands up before slowly backing away.

"Don't push me, I'm already letting you stay in my tower, and sleep in his room for that matter." Dad gestures to me with an angry look on his face.

"Moving on, why're there a bunch of gawping teenagers stood behind you?" Peter asked gesturing to my class.

"Well, this is my science class from school. They're gasping because no one believed me when I said I had an internship here but I've proven to have more than that." I explained taking Wade's hand in mine much to Dad's disappointment.

"Anyway, what're you doing next? When're these losers leaving?" Peter asked putting his arm around my shoulders.

"We're visiting the training rooms with Steve, Nat, Clint, Bucky, T,Challa, Wanda, Vision, Strange and Loki." Dad explained making me groan and put my head on Wade's shoulder in annoyance.

"And then they're staying the night and visiting Avengers Tower tomorrow." I told him from Wade's shoulder.

"Avengers Tower?" Drax asked confused.

"It's kind of like our mother ship. It's where we're briefed and de-briefed about our missions and meet up for various things. We used to use this tower but it's less used now." Dad explained.

"They still use it sometimes though. Say, for example, to embarrass me." I said sarcastically lifting my head up.

"Aww, come on Pete, don't you love seeing us all day?" Dad teased grabbing my cheek.

"Not when your soul purpose is to embarrass me infront of my class. Other times, I couldn't thing is anything better." I told him making him smirk.

"Come on then, let's go see everyone train." Dad said clapping his hands together and leading the group through one of my doors and directly into the training room.

"Ah, Midtown I presume. Welcome to the Avengers training room." Pops introduced gesturing to the room around us.

There was treadmills, weight lifts, cross trainers, workout bikes and much more. Over in an empty corner Strange, Wanda and Uncle Loki were practicing their magic where as every one else was doing normal physical training.

"So, who wants to fight an Avenger?" Aunt Nat asked looking across all the students in front of her. "You, with the stupid grin. Come up here." Nat instructed pointing to Flash. Oh dear lord.

Flash confidently made his way up to Nat and just stood there doing nothing. Nat showed him a proper fighting stance and told him to attack. The next few seconds was Nat pinning Flash to the mat before he could react.

"I wasn't ready." Flash breathed out from the floor.

"No one is. That's why she's good at what she does." Pops told him smirking at me. "Why don't you have a go?" He asked me.

"No I'm good. Do you want to?" I asked gesturing to the mat and Nat.

"Oh come on kid. Live a little." Pops coaxed with a smug grin on his face.

"Fine." I sighed detaching myself from Wade and standing in front of Nat. I got into a fighting stance and we started fighting.

After 10 minutes of back and forth between me and Nat I eventually pinned her to the mat to the astonishment to my class.

“Well Peter, good to know nothing's changed." Pops grinned passing me my water bottle and a granola bar.

"Thanks Pops." I said with out thinking.

“Right, now we're gonna teach you basic self defence. We'll split you into groups and go from there." Pops explained turning to my class when an alarm went off.

"Code Green! Natasha and Peter to Dr Banners lab please." F.R.I.D.A.Ys automated voice rang out.

Me and Natasha took off running as fast as we could to Bruce's lab and stopped in front of the door for a brief moment. We could hear crying? Slowly, we opened the door and found Hulk sat on the floor crying.

"Hulk?" I cautiously asked stepping forward.

"Spider Boy!" Hulk yelled pulling me into a tight hug. "Hulk miss his spider boy!" He cried.

"Okay big guy. Why were you crying?" Natasha asked placing her hand on his arm.

"Lonely. Bad Human kept me trapped." Hulk explained as more tears fell.

"Okay buddy, put me down and we can hang out with you for a bit. How does that sound?" I offered.

"Thank you spider boy." Hulk said giving me one last squeeze, breaking my last rib and placing me on the floor.

"So, what do you want to do?" Nat asked sitting on the floor next to Hulk.

"Play outside!" Hulk whined. When did he become so child like?

"Okay, wanna play tag?" I offered thinking back to childhood games.

"Tag?" Hulk asked.

"It's where we run around and touch people gently. The person you touch is then 'tagged' and you must run away from them. You understand?" I explained.

Hulk slowly nodded so Nat took him outside while I called Dad to explain what happened.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Dad asked with my entire class looking at him.

"Yeah he was just lonely and in a mood with Banner. Me and Nat are gonna play some tag with him if that's okay. We'll either be on the roof or balcony." I explained to him.

"Okay stay safe." Dad told me before waving.

"I will. See you later." I said waving back and hanging up the phone.

-2 hours later-

After playing tag with Hulk for way too long we managed to get Banner back. The only think was, we promised Hulk to speak to him later. While my class will still be here. Hopefully he doesn't get scared or feel threatened and we can have a nice and calm conversation with him. We walked back to the training room but no one was there so I called Dad to see where he was.

"Hey, where've you all gone?" I asked.

"We're in the penthouse. How was playing tag with Hulk?" He asked.

"It was fun. We promised we would speak to him later so we need to talk to the class and explain otherwise he may feel threatened or angry." I explained to him getting into the elevator to take us to the penthouse.

"Okay, I'll gather everyone and you three can explain to them." He said.

"Right I'll see you in a minute." I told him before hanging up.

We got to the penthouse and found my whole class plus teacher stood in the living room like they were waiting for something. I walked in with Nat and Banner on either side of me and they all looked visibly shocked.

"Okay, quick announcement if you're all going to be staying the night. What happened before was a 'code green' that means the Hulk. Now, not every time he's here he's angry, so for instance today, sometimes he's just lonely. We managed to get Banner back but promised we would speak to him later so if anyone hears a code green do not freak out. Don't go up to him or anything but don't freak out. That's what'll make him intimidated and angry and that's when people get hurt. Do I make myself clear?" Nat asked giving each individual a piercing glare.

"Yes Miss Romanov." They all said simultaneously.

"Now, you have one hour before food to explore the penthouse. Any door with a red square is a prohibited area, it's mainly bedrooms though. Have fun and don't break anything." Dad warned.

As soon as he finished everyone scattered and tried to find something interesting to look at. Me, Wade, Ned, MJ, Dad, Pops, Nat and Banner all just sat on the sofa and started a movie. As time went on the rest of the Avengers along with Thor, Loki, Shuri and T'challa came in and started to watch the movie with us. We briefly heard and saw my class mates walking around and looking at things in the hallways. They were all very interested in the littlest things.

An hour soon went by and we called everyone back in to talk about food and what we should order. We ended up with Pizza cause who doesn't like that? We ordered 35 because there was a lot of us and I needed like 4 to myself, it was 15 margaritas, 5 Hawaiian, 5 BBQ chicken, 5 vegetarian and 5 meat lover. All large and all delicious. True beauty. We all sat in the living room and no where else would fit us all and ate in pretty must silence.

"So Peter, how come you know the Avengers?" Christie asked.

"The internship. I work closely with Mr Stark and just met everyone from there. It stared with working in projects all night to having sleepovers and it all progressed from there." I explained. It felt weird to call Dad Mr Stark again after all this time of calling him Dad.

"Patricia, how did you get the internship. Stark Industries don't usually hire teenagers." Mrs Robbins asked trying to be polite but made one big mistake. Patricia.

"Well I found Videos of Peter's work on YouTube. I'd also bumped into him at Oscorp at one of your other field trips." Dad explained with emphasis on 'Peter'. Mrs Robbins seemed uncomfortable with Dad's use of my name.

"Well what type of thing do you work on?" Al asked.

"All sorts. Started with building small robots to help with small mundane tasks then working on bigger robots with Mr Stark and then working on suits and weapons for everyone. Now I'm designing them as you all saw before. Btw Wanda, I need you to come to my lab at some point this week to check hour suit out." I informed.

"Okay, maybe after food we could go." She offered taking another bite of a BBQ chicken pizza.

"I can do that." I agreed and finished my slice of margarita.

"Well, why you?" Flash asked clearly annoyed. Shoot.

"What do you mean why him?" Pops asked getting angry.

"Well, with all due respect, why did you hire him? He's nothing special, just a charity case at the end of the day." Flash huffed and Pops' face went red with anger.

"Charity case? What do you mean by that?" Wade asked trying to moving me from his lap but I didn't budge. I knew he'd kill Flash.

"Like with his Aunt, they didn't have money and skips out on school with stupid excuses. You're probably only talking to him cause you feel bad, no need to lie to us." Flash explained and Banner's face turned green.

Everything else happened so fast. First Wade practically threw me off of his lap onto the floor where Ned caught me. Then Banner stormed out of the room yelling and turning green. After that, Dad got up from his seat and lunged forward but Pops caught him and was holding him back in a hug type situation. Nat pulled a knife out. Bucky smashed a pizza. The sofas were floating. There was thunder outside. Loki was evilly smirking. Shuri was holding T,Challa back. Sam was seething in the corner. Clint reached for his bow and arrow. Wade pulled a katana out of god knows where. It was all happening.

"Everybody outside now!" I yelled at the adults and dragged my Dads and Wade out the room behind me.

They all came out and I was immediately attached with question after question after question. Nat was asking if I wanted her to kill them. Dad, Pops and Wade were agreeing with her. Thor was threatening to bring the whole of the Asgardian army. Banner was still no where to be seen. Things really went down hill fast.

"Come on Baby. He made you feel like shit, let me teach him a lesson." Wade tried to persuade pulling me close and putting his hands on my waist.

"No Wade. You're not killing him. You've been doing so well, you've gone a whole 2 months without killing anyone. Don't throw that all away for him. Come on baby, calm down and help me with everyone else." I pleaded looking into his eyes and placing my hands on either side of his face.

"Fine but if he says one more thing not even Hulk could hold me back." He sighed bringing me in for a brief kiss.

"NOT IN FRONT OF US!" Dad yelled all anger seemingly averted to Wade.

"Geeze old man, calm down it was just a kiss. Not as if I fucked him right in front of you is it?" Wade told him sarcastically.

"Stop before your killed." I warned him.

"Mmmm. You're no fun." Wade told me.

"This is all beside the point. Banner's Hulked our and Hulk is not happy about Flash. He's coming straight towards everyone." Nat warned looking at something F.R.I.D.A.Y shown her.

"Oh god." I said as everyone rushed back into the living room to find my class huddled in a corner with Hulk slowly advancing.

Me and Nat ran out infront of them and our hands up to indicate for him to stop. Hulk looked between me and the group with confusion.

"They're mean to spider boy. Why be nice?" Hulk asked.

"Because it's what we do. We're nice to people despite them being mean to us because otherwise we'd be as bad as them. We don't want to be as bad as them. We want to be better. Do you understand?" I explained to Hulk slowly.

"Yes I understand spider boy." Hulk slightly sulked and walked over to a different side of the room where he turned back into Banner.

"How can you do that?" Someone asked hesitantly.

"Do what?" I questioned confused.

"Calm him down. I thought only black widow could do that." They explained baffled.

"Well you thought wrong." I simply told them with a shrug as I walked back over to the couch and sat on Wades lap much to my Dad's disappointment.

"Okay then, what movie should we watch?" Pops asked trying to change the topic and succeeding.

"Okay this is how we're doing it. If you want horror move to the right side of the room. If you want comedy stand to the left." Dad spoke. The majority, including myself and Wade, moved to the right.

"Okay, Annabelle Creation to the right, It to the left." The majority stayed at the right.

"It's settled." Pops announces turning the tv on and playing the movie.

Everyone found somewhere to sit, Dad on Pop obviously, then everyone else who lived at the tower, Ned and MJ squeezed onto the couches. The rest of my class sat on the floor that was covered in blankets, pillows and other types of bedding. It looked quite comfy but nothing was as comfy as Wade.

"So, Parker, how come you're buddy buddy with all of the Avengers?" Flash asked once the movie begun.

"I told you, I'm Mr Starks personal intern and so I met everyone." I lied.

"It's so weird to hear you call me Mr Stark again." Dad pointed out making us all laugh but confused my class.

"Don't start calling me Steve again, too weird." Pops requested earning a few more laughs.

"Alright Cap'ain." I said making us again, laugh a little.

"So, Peter, how did you get your internship?" Al asked.

"Well, it's a long story." I told him trying to think of one on the spot.

"I secretly sent out a message to collages and High schools near by and asked for their most brightest and promising students. I got almost two hundred responses but one from Midtown high stuck out. A boy who couldn't do PE to save his life but could do a university level science equation in his sleep. Sounded like me when I was younger so I spoke with him and after a few trials including him and some other candidates I went with Peter. One of the best decisions I ever made." Dad informed them, lying slightly, making me blush and look down.

"How did that lead to all of this?" Al further questioned gesturing to me and the rest of the Avengers.

"Well, with being his personal intern I followed him everywhere and into meeting for both Stark Industries and the Avengers. He also let me stay here when my aunt had to work late, this then turned into me spending the weekend here most times and some school night. With me spending so much time here I met them all, I was a little awkward at first but got used to them and then the jokes started which turned to minor pranks which turned into Parnell wars which turned into me finding a family in the most unsuspected way." I spoke fondly smiling at the memories of first meeting them and the first prank pulled, Clint decided it would be funny to put shaving cream in all of my pockets and shoes.

"Wow, must be amazing, knowing you can come here at whatever time you want and have the Avengers back you. You're a lucky kid Parker, I'll give you that." Al said.

"I know I am." I spoke, mostly to myself as I took Wade's hand in mine.

"How did your relationship start?" Hayley, a girl from my class, asked.

"That is an interesting story that I'm sure Wade would love to tell." I said smirking slightly.

"Well, I have a tendency to brake in the tower and one time I ran into the living room escaping Stark and found Peter sat on this couch watching Star Wars surrounded my blankets, pillows and junk food. I walked over, sat next to him and had a lovely conversation with him about Star Wars and Star Trek, it was very engaging. Then Stark ruined it by kicking me out and giving me a lecture on communicating with his intern. I clearly didn't listen and came here more often to speak to him, on one of my trips my crush grew too strong and plucked up the courage to ask him out. He said yes much to Starks distaste. We went on a date, shared a kiss and decided to make it official, this was 8 months, 4 days, 32 minutes and 54 seconds ago." Wade told them smiling widely as he pulled me into a deep and loving kiss only to separated by my Dad flicking Wade's ear.

"Wow, that's so sweet." Hayley fan-girled.

Soon enough, nine thirty rolled around and we were all sent to bed, my class was showed to their shared rooms while me and Wade snuck off to my room where he followed through on his earlier promise.

To be continued...

#trans peter parker #peter parker field trip #adopted peter parker #bi peter parker #gay peter parker #peter parker #domestic avengers #ironfam #super family #superfamily #hulk #dick head flash #spideypool #wade wilson #pansexual deadpool #gay steve rodgers #gay dads #peter parker protection squad

[elizabeethan]

Watch The Sunlight Fade: 3 / 18

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: You may have noticed a chapter count! It’s subject to change, but I’ve outlined the whole story and have written halfway through chapter 12, so we’re getting there, friends. Reminder to check warnings and tags and message me if you have questions. There will be depictions of violence, domestic violence, very very brief discussions of non-con (kind of) and psychological abuse throughout this story.

Rated M

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~~~~

The door to his apartment slams behind her as she stumbles in, the alcohol in her veins obviously taking over as he helps to steady her. “Easy,” he warns, hand on her waist as he guides her towards the guest room. 

 “You’re not gonna let me stay in bed with you, big guy?” she slurs, giving him a flirty smile. 

 “No, love,” he answers softly. “You need rest.”

 With a giggle, she answers, “I get paid to have sex with people. Shouldn’t you be flattered that I’m soliciting you?”

 “Tink,” he laughs, “I am very flattered. But you need to go to bed.”

 “I can still give you a good time even though I’m drunk, you know,” she promises, letting her fingers dance along the lapels of his jacket. 

 “I know that, love. I just think… perhaps it’s time to… bring this arrangement to a close.”

She pouts, her bottom lip popping out and her brows furrowing. “Something I said?” she asks. 

 With a slight shake to his head, he smiles shyly down at her and brushes a wayward strand of her honey locks out of her eye. “No, but perhaps we can finish this tomorrow morning when you’re sober?”

 Tink shrugs, letting her heavy kids fall closed and turning around to stumble down the hall. “It’s okay,” she says as she finds the doorknob. “I know it’s that blonde girl.”

 “Liv…” he starts, although he isn’t sure where he’s going as he begins to speak. It’s not the blonde girl, not really. Although he felt a connection to her from the moment he saw her, he also knows that his and Tink’s fling is just that: a fling. It can’t last, and while he likes her well enough, he thinks it unfair to continue on with something to which he isn’t fully dedicated. “It’s not you.” 

 She snorts and nods her head lazily, letting it flop a bit too freely on her neck. “It’s not you, it’s me. I get it.” 

 “Hey,” he tries again, giving her a soft smile as he tucks away the same defiant strand of her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that. I’ll always have love for you.”

 “Yeah,” she smiles with a soft blush, her lids looking heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “I love you, too, bud. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with your best friend anyway.” 

 “I’m not sleeping with Robin,” he deadpans, knowing with certainty that it’ll draw a hearty laugh from her. She pushes against his shoulder with more force that she was likely expecting and turns around to open the door to his guest room. 

 “You dolt.” Once she’s in the room, just as she’s about to shut the door behind her, she spins quickly to face him once more. “By the way, you’re a total idiot if you go after her.” 

 “Bloody hell, not you too,” he complains as he scratches behind his ear. 

 “She belongs to Cassidy and you know it. You know what’ll happen if you pursue her.” 

 “Aye, that’s why I have no intention of doing so. Now, go to bed, Olivia.” 

 “Ooh,” she fakes a shudder, “full name; I must've been naughty.” 

 “Aye, you were. Goodnight, love.” 

 “Night, KJ.” 

 He listens to her giggle as she stumbles through the room, one she’s stayed in countless times before. She’s right; they probably never should’ve started their affair in the first place. Sleeping with your best friend is bound to end badly. But they understand each other, each of them here with hardly a choice on whether they stay or go. It isn’t as if they’re being held against their will, but the implication is that they’ll seriously regret it if they try to leave, one way or another. They simply both took comfort in knowing that someone else felt as they did. 

 He’s about to go to bed himself, ready to rid himself of the guilt that came along with the events of the day, but he pauses as he walks by his front door just in time to hear a resounding thud coming from across the hall. He panics and swings his own door open when he hears the terrified cry in response. He heard something earlier today that sounded exactly like that terrified cry. 

 Rushing over to Neal’s apartment, he places his hand on the knob and presses his ear to the door. He doesn’t want to burst in with haste since he has no idea what he actually heard, and the door must be locked anyway. But he can’t help but recall the image of her pressed to the door looking horrified, two knives on either side of her throat. He can’t get the look in her eyes out of his head. 

 There aren’t anymore sounds resonating from the apartment, silence falling over him as he attempts to listen out for signs of trouble. After a moment, all he hears are soft, painful sobs coming from the other side of the door. 

 ~~~~

 It’s surprisingly even more terrifying to be in the shop during the day than it was at night. At least when she was here last night, the shadows kept the frightening details of the space hidden, but now that the sun is up and streaming through the small basement windows, she’s able to see too much. 

 She can see the aged and worn paint on the walls, giving her an automatic and infallible feeling of unease. She can see the decorative weapons proudly displayed on every inch of every wall. She can see the rugged violence on each of the men’s faces so clearly in the sunlight. Being here terrifies her. 

 “Morning, Miss Swan,” Peter greets as Neal leads her into the large meeting room. He’s already sitting at the table waiting for them, Gold at his right and two empty seats to his left. There are several other members at the table as well, and she can’t help but notice how bright Killian’s eyes look in the sun streaming through the windows. “Welcome to your first real family meeting.” 

 The others around the table laugh, everyone but Jones seeming to find his joke about her near death experience to be funny. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Neal asks in her ear, his voice low and his teeth clearly clenched. 

 She clears her throat and gives Peter the fakest smile she can muster. “Good morning.”

 “That’s a good lass,” he praises, setting free a flock of anxious butterflies in her stomach. “Come sit. We saved you a seat by Neal.” 

 They sit side by side, and it’s becoming easier and easier to question his ranking within the group of men at the table. She finds it impossible to see him as a simple lackey when his name is carved into the table in intricate lettering in front of his chair, directly to the left of Peter's seat at the head. 

 There are talks of their plans, and she gathers some information easily while they seem to go to great lengths to keep other things hidden from her based on the threatening glances Peter doles out from time to time. There’s a trip coming up, and it’s automatically assumed that Neal will be going with Peter and Gold will be staying behind, as if this arrangement was made and agreed upon a lifetime ago. Once the other attendees are determined, Peter turns to face her and gives her a smile. 

 “Now, a job for you, my dear. Neal tells us you have a talent in finding people.” 

 “She can find anyone,” Neal says proudly, referring to her short stint as a bail bondsperson back when she lived in Boston. When she had met Neal after he witnessed her taking down a skip, he took her under his wing and told her she didn’t have to live such a dangerous lifestyle anymore. “Well, almost anyone.” 

 Her stomach flips at his hint; at his willingness to bring up one of the most painful memories she has. She’s great at finding people, but in 25 years, she still hasn’t been able to find her parents. 

 Pan hums. “We can look past a few failed attempts. What we need from you now, Emma, is your skillset to find a certain someone who deserted our cause.”

 She gulps. “You want me to hunt down someone who doesn’t agree with you?” 

 “No love,” he laughs, and Neal’s grip on her hand tightens just a notch. “I want you to find someone who has valuable information and won’t hesitate to hand it over to a rival.” Emma bites her lip in thought, concern likely colored across her face. She hadn’t considered the existence of a rival gang before this moment, and she becomes frightened to think of there being more than one set of men like them. The thought that another gang is out there and considers themselves rivals to The Lost Boys means she’s potentially putting herself in even more danger by becoming associated with them. What will another gang do to the girlfriend of one of their rival’s members, especially a member whom she suspects is higher up in the rankings than he’s letting on? 

 “It’s not lost on me that you’re feeling uncomfortable here, Emma. The tension between you and Neal is perfectly palpable. But I’d implore you to let go of your fears; no one here will harm you. We’re here to protect you. By simply being associated with Neal, you have the protection of everyone in this club. And I’m sure it makes perfect sense that we would expect something of you in return for our unquestioning devotion to your safety.” 

 Although something about his words makes her suspicious, she suddenly feels a sense of strength at his claim that she’s a part of the group now. It’s as if he’s telling her that her thoughts and opinions matter, so she makes a bold choice and speaks up. “Can I clarify something?” she asks. 

 “Of course.” 

 “What are you protecting me from, exactly?” 

 Peter smirks and shakes his head, giving Neal a look that she can’t quite read. “I suppose Neal hasn’t informed you of how dangerous a place this world can be for a woman like you, Miss Swan. Your love for Neal makes you a target, as does Neal’s love for you. By falling for him, you’ve also fallen into our world. And because we’re so devoted to what you have to offer, we will protect you from everyone who may want to hurt Neal.” 

 “Just because I can find people pretty easily?” she asks doubtfully. His explanation isn’t making any sense to her. She can’t rectify in her head how loving Neal can equate to requiring constant protection, especially based on his claim that he’s going to be leaving soon. 

 “No, Emma,” he laughs condescendingly, as if he were talking to a child who couldn’t handle the truth. She wonders if he’s right. “Worry not; all will make sense to you as time goes by. For now, let's get started with your first assignment. Hook, show the lady to her office.” 

 ~~~~

 “Most sites are blocked here,” he explains as he powers up the old desktop, groaning softly as he stands again. “You’ll likely run into trouble if you try to find him on Facebook or anything.” 

 “Why?” she asks, and although she immediately regrets opening her mouth, the look he gives her feels more amused than anything. 

 “Why?” 

 “Um… why are they blocked?” 

 He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her once he notices that the computer has booted up. “To keep you out of trouble, I suppose.” 

 She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her fists until she feels the sting of her nails digging into her palm. She isn’t sure that, in the last day since she’s come here, she’s been kept out of trouble at all. She’s been in trouble-- in danger-- since she heard those bikes pulling up behind her and Neal. 

 “Right,” she says softly, sarcastically, and again, she kicks herself for opening her mouth. She wonders what would have happened to her by now if she was with anyone but Jones in this moment. 

 “Love,” he starts, his voice soft and tender, and she almost wonders if he intends to step close to her. Perhaps he means to comfort her. “I’m--” he clears his throat, “If you need anything…” 

 Their eyes meet, and it’s like the first time again. His azure stare bores into her in a way that makes her shudder, but not out of fear this time. She feels seen, understood, and while it’s only been a day since her traumatic greeting from the club, it feels like a lifetime since she’s felt a sense of safety. It feels comforting to meet his gaze, and she suddenly lets her breathing steady and her heart rate settle. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. She isn’t sure how she could relay it to him if she does need something, but the way he looks at her tells her that he’ll know. 

 For the first time since she’s been here, her safety appears to be a priority to someone. Relief washes over her and she lets it, despite knowing that it will dissipate the moment he walks out the door.

 ~~~~

 “How’s it goin’ in here, my little worker bee?”

 She looks up from the computer she’s been staring at, met by Neal leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. The dinosaur she’s working on is hardly functioning, most sites she’s tried blocked and inaccessible and the speed at which it loads each page almost painful. After almost a week of working on the assignment they’ve given her, she’s found almost nothing.

 “Hi,” she mumbles, turning back to the screen. All they had given her was a name and a last known location, and she’s struggling to find more.

 “Doing alright?”

 “I can’t find much,” she says. 

 “You’ll find him; you’re smart. I wonder if that’s genetic,” he says with a laugh and a smirk in her direction. She isn’t sure what he means or how to respond, so she simply smiles somewhat awkwardly and moves on. She refuses to let herself wonder if this is another dig at her for being parentless. 

 “It just feels impossible. This guy, Graham… are you sure he even exists?” she jokes. 

 He laughs, but it’s forced and she doesn't detect a genuine smile. “Are you doubting Peter?” 

 Emma looks up at him, meeting his eyes with confusion colored in her own. “No,” she starts, although she isn’t sure if she’s being truthful in her answer. “It’s just…”

 Neal shoves away from the door and slinks closer to her, bending at his knees and squatting until his eyes meet her level. “Ems,” he starts, his hand landing on hers and applying what she thinks is meant to be a comforting amount of pressure. “Don’t start.” 

 “What…?” 

 He groans and leans away from her. “It's not a damn secret that you aren’t happy to be here. I need you to be better about that.” 

 She lets her jaw hang open for a bit longer than she means to, shock taking over her as he confirms what she’s been suspecting since the meeting she attended. “Neal,” she starts, “you’re the one who said you want to get out. You said we could leave after a few weeks.” 

 “And?” 

 “Uh… and… it’s been a week and you don’t seem like you’re… I mean… it seems like you're happy here.” 

 “So what?” 

 “What do you-- so what? You said we were leaving and now it’s like they're your family!” 

 Neal stands quickly, spinning from her in exasperation as he thrusts his hands into his hair. “You’re being so-- stop judging me! What do you even have to complain about?! They’re being nothing but nice to you. You have a home now, I feed you, I love you, we protect you… I don’t get what your damn problem is!” 

 “The knives, Neal!” she shouts, unable to hold back the emotional response to his nonsensical claims. “You threw knives at my head!” 

 There's a loud smack against the desk she sits at, and she’s brought back to the reality of her experience and out of the false sense of control that she let herself believe she had. She has to force herself to move on from the thought that she and Neal are able to have a conversation. When she looks down to where his hand met the surface, she sees his gun held beneath his palm. She pales. 

 “It’s time to move on,” he hisses quietly, his voice taking over the silence of the room. It’s another threat. Another convenient way to show her that he has power over her. That he can take everything away from her, even her life, in a second if she gives him a reason to. “You weren’t in danger, baby,” he says, his voice more soothing this time, drawing from her that feeling again. The feeling that she’s overreacting. “I had it under control, remember?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

 She sighs heavily at the feeling of his lips tracing along her jaw until he reaches her neck. “You did?” she asks weakly. With his sudden change in demeanor, his obvious desire not to make her feel unsafe anymore, she feels something shift between them. 

 “Of course I did; don’t be stupid. You know I did.” 

 It feels good, she lets herself realize. As her eyes slip closed and a soft breath escapes her lips, she makes herself relax into his touch. With her sense of sight cut off, she feels herself giving in to his touch in favor of feeling some sense of relaxation after a week of hypervigilance. His rough stubble scratches at her skin, something she normally doesn’t like, but right now, she doesn’t think she minds too much. With her eyes shut, the rest of the world closed off from her mind, she thinks she could appreciate some stubble. 

 She feels the smooth leather of his sleeve under her fingertips and she likes it. Sure, she’s always thought the leather jackets were sexy, but here and now, something about him in it becomes more appealing. But when his hand creeps up her waist, his touch a bit too rough, too domineering, she flinches. 

 “Shh,” he hisses softly, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright.” 

 At the sound of his voice, something snaps within her and she stiffens. It sounds wrong, she realizes. “Wait,” she murmurs as his hand creeps under her shirt. 

 He breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

 “I just,” she starts, nervous as he pushes away. “We’re… I mean, we’re here.” She gestures around the room, hopeful that her discomfort at the thought of sleeping with him in this office where anyone could walk in is clear. 

 “Right. So when we get home, you’ll be more than willing?” he asks doubtfully, rolling his eyes. 

 “Neal,” she begs softly, unsure of where she went wrong. She’s unsure of how she could have messed this up when she was the one to express her own discomfort. “Please.” 

 “Please,” he mimics, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ll see you in a week.” 

 With that, confusing words exchanged between them, he’s out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

@courtorderedcake​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @stahlop​​​​ @klynn-stormz​​​​ @laschatzi​​​​ @emelizabeth88​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @kday426​​​​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​​​ @captain-emmajones​​​​ @gingerpolyglot​​​​​ @ebcaver​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​ @teamhook​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​ @gingerchangeling​​​​​ @jrob64​​​​​ @onceratheart18​​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​​ @swampmedusa​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​​ @dancingnancyy​​​​​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​​ @ouatpost​​​​​ @daxx04​​​​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​​​​ @donteattheappleshook​​​​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​​​​ @xsajx​​​​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​​​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​​​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​​​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​​​​ @rapunzelsghosts​​​​​ @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice​​​​​ @batana54​​​​ @sailtoafarawayland​​ @deckerstarblanche​​ @zaharadessert​​ @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza

#Watch the Sunlight fade #Sunlight ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan angst #cs ff #gang au #captain swan au #modern au #angst with a happy ending #tw: domestic violence

[outerbankspreferences]

Just Breathe - JJ Maybank

Request: hello hope you have an amazing dayy so far! I've been soooo stressed out with assignments lately and i was wondering if i could have a jj maybank imagine? 😁 just something about jj comforting the reader by bringing her out to see the sunset 😅 hope thats okay!

Word Count: 1344

Warnings: Slight mental breakdown (idrk)

A/N: This is my first request hope you like it!!

It had been one of those weeks. It seemed that every teacher at school had multiple assignments due. Not too mention that you started the week off with a stuffy nose, which was weird because living by the ocean, it almost never happened. Your boyfriend JJ told you that you needed to be out more, and not worrying about school so much. He wasn’t wrong, you had spent most of your time ether home, or at the school library trying to finish everything. You were working on your history paper when you get a text from JJ.

JJ: Hey, what are you doing?

Y/N: Not much, just at the library trying to finish the history paper.

JJ: We’re all going surfing this afternoon, why don’t you take a break and come with us?

I smiled, he knew how much I loved surfing, it’s what brought us together. I’m not the best surfer in the world, but JJ was always trying to teach me new tricks. I loved listening to him explain things to me. I worried about him, he always thought he wasn’t smart enough for me. I’ve told him countless amount of times that I loved him, and it didn’t matter to me. He didn’t realize how smart he was, he was street smart and around her that is worth a whole lot more.

The sound of my phone going off pulls me back to reality. It was JJ calling me. I laugh a little, he’s so impatient. “Hey babe, why didn’t you answer my text? Are you coming with us?” he asks into the phone. I can hear the others in the background getting all their stuff together. “No J, I don’t think so. I need to finish this paper and get started on the rest of my assignments. Did you finish your paper?” I hear him sigh into the phone. “Y/N Y/L/N, when have you ever known me to actually do the assignments, plus I didn’t take that course. Someone told me that Mrs. Riley is a bitch about homework. You’ve been working all week and I miss you. Come out today and finish your homework tomorrow.” He tried to reason with me. I thought about it for a minute, and almost gave into the peer pressure. Looking down at all the work I still had to do if I went out today, I wouldn’t have enough time. “Sorry love, but I can’t go out today. I need to finish. I should be done after tomorrow and then I’m all yours. I promise.” It was his turn to sigh. I could tell he was disappointed. One thing about JJ Maybank is that he hates being told no. “Alright just don’t stress yourself out like last time. I love you.” “I won’t I promise, be careful out there. Tell everyone I’m sorry. I love you too.” “I’ll tell them” and with that he hung up the phone.

I felt bad. I know he wants the best for me, but I have to finish. I throw my head on the desk of the library and let out a groan. After a few minutes I get back to work on my paper. A few hours later, two coffees, and one breakdown I finally finished. I pack all my stuff up in my book bag, and head for the doors. I didn’t realize how late it was until I looked at my phone and saw the time 6:40, I wonder if the Pouges finished surfing. I open my snapchat and look at Kie’s story. She’s the only one who can afford a waterproof case and she loved taking our photos. Watching them all have fun made me upset. I was upset that I missed out on surfing. I screenshot some of the photos she took of JJ. He was so photogenic but hated having his photo taken.

When I got home I noticed that my parents cars wasn’t in the driveway. They must have been out. I unlock the front door and go straight for the kitchen. I read the note my mom left behind. “Sorry honey, we had some errands to run. Suppers in the microwave. Love you.” Looking in the microwave, they made lasagna for supper. JJ’s favorite. I text him to come over and have supper with me. I make myself a tea and try to relax for a minute. I was thinking over everything that needed to be done still. Homework, laundry, work, school. It was all so overwhelming right now. I had no time to just breathe. I could feel the tears pricking my eyes, and I took a long shaky breath.

I was to consume with my own thoughts that I never heard JJ come in. I jumped a little when I felt his arms around my waist. “woah, sorry Y/N/N, didn’t mean to scare you. What’s for sup—hey now, what’s wrong beautiful?” He holds my face in his hands. They’re warm and rough from all the work he does on cars. His thumb gently wipes my tears and that’s when I breakdown more. The simple gesture was enough to bring my walls crumbling down. Not that it was hard with him. “I don’t know *hiccup*, I’m so stressed with everything, and I *hiccup* still have so much to do. *hiccup* and I have a stuffy nose.” He laughs at the last part. He knew you weren’t feeling good on Monday, but he assumed it passed because you hadn’t mention anything about it. “JJ this isn’t funny.” I cry out to him, a little pissed he’s getting amusement out of my dilemma. “No, you’re right bub, it’s not funny. Come on, I know what’ll help.”

We walk out my back door out to the hammock I got when I realized how much JJ likes them. I set it up right by the water so we could lay there. “You need some fresh ocean air Y/N. You’ve been stuck inside all week, no wonder you have a stuffy nose.” He had grabbed a blanket from inside and laid on the hammock making grabby arms at me. “you need a good cuddle session, and we can watch the sunset your favorite thing!” I smile and crawl into his inviting arms. I snuggle my head into his neck and lay small kisses there. “Y/N don’t get me horny in the hammock. It’s too hard to have sex out here.” I laughed out loud thinking of the time we tried to do it in John B’s hammock and kept getting our legs stuck.  JJ wraps his hands around my waist, fingers rubbing small circles into my hip bone. It was calm. Like nothing matter in this very second but the two of us. It was the attention and distraction I’ve been craving all week. After a while, my nose isn’t stuffy anymore, and I mentally curse because he was right. JJ speaks up, “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate Y/N, but you need to take time to breath. I hate seeing you all stressed out and upset. I know I’m not much help with your homework, but I’m sure missing one assignment isn’t going to kill you 4.0 GPA. I love you so much, I don’t want you to be upset.” I nod along with what he’s saying. I had to agree, it probably wouldn’t kill me to miss an assignment every now and again.

“Do you want to go back inside love? Are you hungry?” JJ asked looking down at me. I meet his beautiful blue eyes. Like an ocean its hard not to get lost in them. I look back out to the water. Soaking up the last bit of the sunset. This was perfect. I never wanted to leave. “No, I think I want to sit here for a little longer. Is that okay?” You ask, even though you already knew the answer. “Of course, anything you want. I love you.” I look up at him, and smile. “I love you too, so much.”

#jj outer banks #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jjmaybanks #jj maybank imagine #jj #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagines #rudy pankow x reader #submission

[winterscaptain]

arrangements.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i LOVED writing this one, and i’ll have you know that the kitchen scene was taken directly from my life - when my yiayia passed, my theo came to stay with us and did the exact same routine my yiayia and i used to do in the morning so my mom could sleep in. when my mom woke up in a panic, she heard us in the kitchen and knew she could go back to sleep :’)

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! (the pieces stand alright on their own as well, for the most part!) one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 1.8k warnings: food mention

summary: “so long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others, i would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.” ― robert louis stevenson, lay morals

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You pad down the hallway, fingertips gently pushing the cracked door to what was formerly Jack and Haley’s room when they lived with Jess. Now, Aaron and Jack take the room while you take the couch. 

Nobody wants to be alone.

Jack’s awake, his eyes tracing the patterns in the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. 

When he sees you, he smiles and opens his mouth. You press a finger to your lips before pointing at Aaron, still sleeping. Be quiet, baby. 

You step further into the room, leaving the door open, and gingerly pull the covers away from Jack so you can pick him up. He immediately latches onto you and you straighten, leaving the door cracked as you leave the hallway.

When you’re down the hall and past the arch of the kitchen, you can finally talk. “Alright, Jack. What do you want for breakfast?” You set him on the counter in Jess’s kitchen, ruffling his hair. 

You’re exhausted, having barely slept last night, but Jess and Aaron have a whole day of planning and funeral arrangements ahead of them. Jack’s breakfast and morning routines are the last things they need to worry about. 

He thinks for a minute. “Cereal.” 

“Alright, bud.” You open the cabinet, displaying the options. “Do we want Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, or Kix? I think your dad has Chex in here, but -“

You make matching yuck faces. 

“Yeah, I thought so. So what’ll it be?”

“Cheerios.” 

+++

Down the hall, Aaron wakes in the guest room with a start, finding Jack’s side of the bed empty. He throws himself out of bed and only stops when he hears your voices in the kitchen. 

“...Cheerios it is, then. Do you want to use your monkey bowl, or do you want to use a big bowl and we can share?”

He heaves a sigh of relief. 

“Big bowl.” 

You laugh a little, and it almost brings a smile to his face. “You sure? That’s pretty ambitious.” Nevertheless, he hears a light clink of ceramic as you pull one of the deep bowls from the cabinet by the sink. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

He sounds exceedingly confident for someone who eats like a bird. 

“Alright. Breakfast will be a team effort, then.” 

Aaron creeps forward, surprisingly light on his feet, knowing there’s a place in the hall where he can see into the kitchen without getting caught. 

You’re still in your pajamas and so is Jack. The boy watches as you pour a decently-sized bowl of cereal - just about enough for a four-year-old and a late twenty-something to share. Aaron’s eyes follow the casual touches you bestow as you set up, pressing your palms to the sides of his face and kissing the top of his head, running your hand over his shoulders as you pass him for a pair of spoons, helping him settle on your hip with one arm while you grab the cereal with your other hand. 

They’re alright. 

Without thinking too much more about it, he turns around and goes back to bed, flopping down like a bag of rocks and falling right back to sleep on top of the covers. 

He’s too tired to do much else. 

+++

You’re with Jack most of the morning, and you’re almost surprised Aaron hasn’t already been running around in a panic to find him. 

After breakfast, it’s cartoons and then reading. He helps you fold the blankets from your makeshift bed on the couch - you make a game out of it before you settle down. 

Aaron rises again to hear you reading The Giving Tree, and he does his best to swallow his tears. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember what that book sounds like in Haley’s voice. 

It’s already harder than it should be. More than half his life knowing her, and he’s terrified of forgetting what her voice sounds like, what her laugh feels like in his arms, the exact color of her eyes. 

“‘Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, ‘Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.’ 

“‘I am too big to climb and play,’ said the boy…”

Aaron sits in the hallway, against the wall and out of your sight, and closes his eyes, listening to you read. 

He took a shaky breath as you reached the end of the story. There were tears pressing in at your voice, but you did an excellent job of remaining steady as you continued to read. 

“...’I don’t need very much now,’ said the boy. ‘Just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.’

“‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, ‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ 

“And the boy did.” You pause, turning the final page. “And the tree was happy.” 

There’s quiet for a moment. 

“Why are you sad?” Jack asks. 

“That story always makes me feel so much that sometimes the feelings come out of my eyes, but I’m not sad, bud. I’m alright.” 

“Oh. Does that happen?”

You hum. “Does what happen?”

Aaron can almost see the thoughts working across Jack’s face. “Do sometimes you not know what you’re feeling when you’re crying?”

“Yeah, that happens, sometimes.” There’s a shift, and Aaron’s fairly sure you set the book down and brought him further into your arms. “The more words you know, though, the easier it is to figure out what you’re feeling.”

“How many words do you know?”

You huff a laugh. It almost makes Aaron smile. “I know a lot of words. Between me, your dad, and Uncle Spencer, we probably know all the words.” 

Then, Jack screeches a laugh and Aaron knows you’re tickling him within an inch of his life. 

That’s a good enough excuse as any to ‘wake up,’ I suppose. 

He rises and wipes his tears away, mindful of his double black eyes and the cut across his nose. He probably looks a fright, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

You look up as he rounds the corner and you offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

You push Jack off your lap and he easily scrambles toward Aaron, who picks him up with only the smallest twinge of protest. 

“Oh, be careful with Dad, honey.” You remind him, leaning over the couch.

Aaron kisses Jack’s temple. “You’re alright, bud. Just no jumping on me for a couple of days, okay?” 

Jack nods, tucking under his chin. “We had breakfast.”

“Did you?” He asks, looking at you like he doesn’t know. 

You nod. “I can put something together for you, if you’d like.” 

“We’ve got to get going. We’ve got -” He stops for a second. “We’ve got things to take care of today, so we need to get Jack ready to go.” 

Standing, you stretch and level him with an unamused look. “Nope. Not having that. I’m making you and Jess breakfast and taking Jack for the day so you can do what you need to do without worrying about anything. Just let me know when you’re done so I can have what I assume will be dinner ready when you get back.” 

He raises an eyebrow, but it’s not as animated as his dubious looks have been in the past. Is it worth arguing with you?

You mirror his look. Is it ever? 

He sighs and looks at Jack again, telling him that he’ll stay here with you while, “Aunt Jess and I run some errands. Does that sound okay?”

Jack looks over at you and you nod encouragingly. 

“That sounds okay.” 

His parroting draws the smallest smiles from Aaron, who kisses Jack’s temple again, breathing him in. You can’t even imagine what’s going through Aaron’s head right now. If it were you, you’d never want to let him out of your sight ever again. 

When he sets Jack back on his feet, Aaron turns back, headed for the hall bathroom. You get Jack settled with the second round of cartoons for the morning, and make your way down the hallway. 

Aaron’s leaning with his hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring straight down. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You stay put in the doorway, giving him some space. 

He takes a shaky breath and lets it out heavily through his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It would be absolutely batshit if you did, Aaron. You’re supposed to feel that way.”

He’s quiet, still. 

“But you’re not alone. I’m here as long as you want, Aaron. I’m not going anywhere.” You step forward, slowly and deliberately so he knows you’re coming. 

He loves you so much. Even though Jack’s in the other room, you’re the only one keeping his feet on the floor. He’d have let himself waste away without you here. 

Jess does her best, but she’s trying to bury her sister. That, of course, comes with its own nightmarish baggage. 

You wait for him, standing at his side until he can finally straighten up and open his eyes. They’re so tired. You wonder if the sleep he’s had has been any sort of useful. 

He opens one of his arms, and you wrap yourself around him, your hands flat against his abdomen. 

“I wish I could do more for you. For Jack.”

You can feel him shake his head. “You have no idea what it means to us to have you here.”

“I miss her.”

He heaves a sigh, and you’re glad to hear it’s deeper than a few days ago. He is, after all, still healing. “Me too.”

“Take your time today. I can always delegate tasks if you run out of energy and need to call it.” You stare at a random spot on the wall as you talk, your cheek pressed against him. 

“What would I do without you?”

You shake your head. “I dunno. You’d probably spend less of your time annoyed at work, but the rest of it would be pretty boring.” You pause. “Your TMJ would probably be a lot worse, too.”

There’s no laugh, but you think maybe he thought about it. After a moment, “Thank you.”

I love you. 

“Anytime.”

I love you. 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile  @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @spencerelds @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @ambicaos @softbibxtch

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

[wallwriterstuff]

Found Family ||Demetri Volturi x Female!Reader||

Part 2 found here: Baby’s First Christmas 

Warnings: Anxiety and panic, mentions of child endangerment 

Words: 7565

Summary: A request for @kpopgirlbtssvt

There are things Demetri never thought he could have, things he had never dreamed would be within his grasp ever again. He has plenty of experience with newborns…just not your kind of newborn. 

He was absolutely perfect. You couldn’t imagine anyone better for you than Jeremy. He had always been the sweet kind, the kind that complimented you when he held doors open and gave you his jacket when you were cold, the kind that paid for one date if you got the next. He was a hit with your parents and your friends. You were just so sure about him, more sure than you’d ever been about any of the other idiots you dated throughout university. That was why you were confident it was going to be okay when you missed your period that month, because this baby was Jeremy’s and he was your perfect match, your partner for life, so wasn’t it time to start living it? You’d told him the same night your first pregnancy test came back positive.

You’d never seen a man pack so fast.

Everything that was his in your shared apartment was gone and with no one to fill the space you had been forced to move home. Moving home meant telling your parents you were pregnant and that your baby daddy had run off into the wind, and that had gone down about as well as sticking a fox in a henhouse would. For the past eleven months it had been constant snubs, snide little remarks and complete overreaction to everything you did from your parents. How were you supposed to learn how to be a mother if your own constantly hovered and took over at the slightest perception something was wrong? Your daughter had been in this world for two months and she had most likely been held by your parents more than she had you. The timing of your friend’s sudden job offer was perfect for you.

She had planned a holiday in one of the more scenic cities of Italy, shutterbug that she was, but the job required her to move across your home city post haste. With her holiday deposit on the line, everything had been transferred into your name and the ticket dropped off at your doorstep. Your parents had done their best to convince you to stay of course.

You’re not ready to go on a holiday alone with her.

What’ll happen when she gets fussy on the plane hmm? You think she won’t? How will you handle all the people looking at you then?

We still help you with night feeds, how are you going to do that on your own?

You ignored every single one of their pleas and got yourself and your daughter out of there. The moment the heat and the sunshine and invaded your senses you knew you had made the right decision. Lyra wasn’t sure what to make of the sunglasses you put on her little face, and more often than not she pulled off the wide brimmed hat on her head, which left you in a very cyclical routine of putting hats and glasses on whenever they came off. There was lots of green space in Volterra, and so many beautiful alleyways hiding quaint little shops to wonder about in. Your spending money was limited but it didn’t mean you didn’t splurge on a few treats. Your favourite place by far though had to be the fountain in the centre of the square.

Though it was often bustling in the daytime, come the evenings it was calmer and quieter, cooler to. Laying back in the crook of your arm, Lyra seemed to find the splashing sounds of water and the way the light reflected off of it absolutely fascinating. If you had had a full day she sometimes napped, but when she was awake her little eyes were wide with wonder and she looked between you and the water a lot, trying to communicate with you exactly what she thought about it. You pandered to her of course, rocking her gently as you had a one-sided conversation about how beautiful Volterra was. If you didn’t have responsibilities back at home you could happily see yourself adapting to this slower pace of life. As it was, this small dose of peace in your newfound haven was all you would get, so you decided to make the most of it.

It was one of your last days in the city when you were approached by her. She was Aphrodite incarnate you were sure, statuesque with flawless skin shrouded in shadow, yet her hair couldn’t hide from the sun. No, it caught the beams and threw them back at the world with a dazzling amount of shine that left you utterly awed as she approached you. She looked down at Lyra, plush lips pulling into a smile and revealing perfectly white, straight teeth.

“Buon pomeriggio, hai bisogno di assistenza?” she asked. Her voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, trickling through your consciousness until all other noise simply faded away. You blinked yourself out of your stupor, your brain scrambling to try and translate what little Italian you had picked up over the past week you had been staying here. You could hazard a guess at the last word, and you knew the greeting well enough, but you weren’t sure about the rest.

“I’m sorry, erm, I don’t know that much Italian, Er…erm… non capisco?” you tried. Her laughter was as sweet as angel song, as feather light on your ears as a lover’s whisper.

“I see. I asked if you need assistance. Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” she questioned. Her accent was thick but oddly out of place, seemingly a mix of many different accents mingled into one. It wasn’t unpleasant to listen to however.

“Oh, no we’re okay thank you.” You smiled up at her, squinting slightly in the harsh sunlight. Her head tilted, glossy waves of caramel falling like satin over her shoulder, one strand slipping over the next in a gorgeous waterfall that left you more mesmerised than even her voice could.

“Then perhaps I might interest you in a tour of Castello Volterra? It’s so hot out here, the ancient stone will keep you cool and give you chance to take many more marvellous pictures.” Her head turned, a silent indicator that your camera had taken her interest. Your cheeks flushed pink – how much more obviously a tourist could you be? Lyra had yet to stir in your arms and you glanced down towards her, biting your lip. She’d been asleep for quite a while now and had been safely in the shade of her hat, but a cooler indoor climate would probably do her some good.

“How much?” you asked, cautious of spending your remaining money. She trilled a laugh.

“I’m looking to make up numbers, some turiste dropped out and I have spaces spare.” She waved you off with ease and, well, who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? It never occurred to you in that moment that you hadn’t even caught her name or asked for a badge; the woman was enigmatic and honestly you were more than a little enamoured so her name seemed quite irrelevant as you hurried to gather your things and walk after her. You left Lyra’s buggy at the front desk with the secretary, your daughter finally stirring some and grumpily making her displeasure known with quiet half-cries and a pouty lip. The rocking movement as you walked and the strange décor of the place was slowly drawing her attention, your hand patting her back while your free one held your camera aloft.

When you had been told you were going to tour a castle you had expected more opulent decoration, tapestries and chandeliers, maybe some plush carpets. At first you had seen what you expected, a grand library decorated in deep reds and blacks with a stain in varnished wooden flooring that came with a ghostly story of blood spilled within medieval walls. You were thrilled, your eyes magnetised to your tour guide as much as they were too any painting or gilded book cover. It wasn’t until Lyra began to fuss and take up more of your attention that you started to notice how…odd, the place felt. The stone walls did little to keep heat in and compared to the outside the castle itself was freezing. Lyra had nestled into her shawl, sharing body heat with you, but you were starting to feel goosebumps pebble your flesh now.

It was not just cold but dark too. Very little natural light entered the castle’s rooms, and on the odd occasion you found a square patch of sunlight streaming through admittedly pretty windows, your tour guide avoided it with effortless grace. The further into the castle you went, the colder, darker and less extravagant it got. Bare stone walls were embellished with little decoration and the warmth in your guide’s voice was now gone, her pace hurried and heels clacking off the stone as though she was impatient to get you to the end of this tour for some reason. You struggled to keep up and quickly fell behind, Lyra’s fussing growing worse as she too started to feel the chill in the air and odd atmosphere. Her wriggling grew more intense and you had to lower your camera to tighten your grip on your daughter, hushing her gently when she began to snuffle, huffing breaths through her nose.

They were signals you knew well. With the nappy bag over your shoulder, you slowed your pace and started to rummage through the contents of the large satchel, producing a cloth for Lyra and settling it beneath her chin as you pulled her upright somewhat, pausing in the corridor to readjust your grip on her lest you drop her. A soft cry escaped her, face scrunching in the build up to something louder when you felt the ominous presence behind you. Turning around you were face to face with a man at least a head taller than you were, dressed entirely in black with dark dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders. He radiated something dangerous, made every instinct in your body scream at you to turn and leave him be. Lyra seemingly sensed it to, letting out a wail on demand. In the brief moment where you turned your head to look at her you swore a flash of dark red, the same kind of colour as wine, caught your eye. It wouldn’t have been so strange to you if that flash of wine hadn’t appeared quite high up, at eye level, say.

Lyra was far more important though, her cries cutting off into a gurgle as she spit up just as you had expected her to. The warm vomit splashed onto the cloth, dribbling down as you scrambled to catch it and wipe her mouth. Her screaming grew louder at that, the horrible smell of bile and acid reaching your nose and making it scrunch.

“Keep moving.” The man’s voice was deep. It rumbled in his chest and shook you to your core.

“Is there a bathroom up ahead? Somewhere I can clean her up?” you asked.

“Keep moving.” He repeated, closing in on you with slow, deliberate steps that set your nerves jangling. Holding Lyra closer to your chest you clasped the back of her head tenderly, bouncing and rocking her to try get her to calm. Your daughter was here in your arms, unsettled and in need of your comfort. You had to be calm for her, even if your heart was racing in your chest.

“I need to see to my daughter.” Your voice was firm and left little room to argue, but he didn’t stop moving towards you. Heart leaping into your throat you took a step back, shaking your head and struggling to calm Lyra as you tried to remain firm and not give anymore ground. Your heart raced, a hot flush overcoming you as anxiety made itself present in a sudden, nauseous wave. Why wasn’t he stopping? Why wouldn’t he listen? Couldn’t he see your daughter needed your care? See he was scaring you?

“Keep moving and you can see to her then.” His voice wasn’t comforting in any way and it was difficult to believe a man so intense. He was twice your size and built well, very capable of man-handling you if he so chose to. You had tried to avoid looking, tried to play it off as a trick of the light, but when you looked into his eyes it was plain as day that you had been correct. His irises were the colour of rich red wine, and to your astonishment they only seemed to darken as they stared back into yours with such intensity your thundering heart was all you could hear for a moment. There was no ring around the colourful part of his eye. Nothing indicated that he was wearing contact lenses, but he couldn’t have had red eyes could he? It wasn’t possible…

“I think I better leave. Where’s the exit?” you asked shakily. Something was wrong here, wrong wrong wrong. The corridor was long, not a single door in sight. You could navigate the hallways again right? There had to be an exit somewhere close. Lyra was only growing more unsettled, screaming now at the top of her lungs. People were whispering behind you and the man was growing ever more annoyed, shooting your daughter a disgusted glare as if she had physically offended him with the noise. You instinctively held her as close to you as possible, turning slightly to shield her from him.

“Keep. Moving.” He ground out.

“My daughter isn’t well, we just need to leave! There has to be an exit near here!” you snapped. It was more fear than anything else that had made you snap, desperation more so than anger, but the man seemed to take it as such. He seemed to inflate somehow, shoulders squaring and lips pulling back over his teeth as he stalked ever closer when a pale hand intervened, gripping his arm. Given the way the man flinched, you guessed the newcomers grip was hard. Head snapping to the left, you turned to try and convince our saviour to help you, only to freeze at the sight of apple red eyes. They were the same red eyes, just different shades. He inhaled sharply as he locked eyes with you, his expression somewhat distant for a minute as you tried to make sense of the sudden and inexplicable relief. It was small, barely made a dent in your anxiety in the grand scheme of things, but it lessened some of your nauseous gut feeling to simply lay eyes on this man even if he was clearly a part of this strange tour company.  

“Is the little one alright?” he asked. His voice was smooth and rich, the deep bass reverberating through your head. He had the kind of voice you could listen to all day, the kind you could envision being good for audiobooks. Lyra was still screaming in your arms, her wailing echoing back to you off the walls. You bounced her again, rocking her side to side with a shake of your head.

“No, no I need to take her back to the hotel, please, tell me where I can find the exit?” you were almost pleading with him at this point. He nodded slowly, his gaze strangely intense, unwavering and unblinking. On one hand you didn’t mind it; you liked the way he looked at you actually, with a hint of wonder and trepidation, as if you were the thing in the room to marvel at and the expensive paintings on the wall weren’t worthy of a second glance. Given the general atmosphere of unease that you had picked up on now however, his stare also left you feeling minorly uncomfortable. He held a hand out towards you, his arm open and separating you from the man with the dreadlocks.

“Allow me to escort you to a quieter room so you might tend to her needs.” He said. You swallowed thickly, itching to agree despite barely knowing him or his intentions towards you and Lyra. It felt safe, like his waiting embrace was something you could depend on. Getting you away from the strange man had to be your new priority, but could you really trust a stranger?

“Demetri, what are you doing?” your tour guide was back, her musical voice distracting you somewhat from the beautiful man before you. He was made with the finest of nature’s ingredients you were sure, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could have cut steel. His hair was the most beautiful shade of chestnut brown, his stature tall and lean, posture exuding confidence and grace. His smile was dazzlingly white and so very comforting as he ever so gently guided you towards him.

“Escorting the young lady to a room where she might see to her daughter. I will join you momentarily for the…conclusion, of the tour.” He seemed to choose his words carefully and despite how much more on edge that made you, you still stepped into him with a nod. Your eyes were drawn back to your tour guide again, unable to stray too long as her gaze turned somewhat dangerous.

“The child will be cared for as always.” Her voice was like wind chimes and you unknowingly leaned closer to hear it. The man, Demetri, immediately pulled you back and began to lead you down the hall.

“Indeed, by her mother.” He spoke as though she was still stood right beside him, yet you were sure she shouldn’t have heard anything given she was already four steps behind you both. His pace was quick, only slowing when he realised you were struggling to keep up. You could see the way his jaw clenched as Lyra screamed and you tried to shush her again, swallowing past the lump in your throat as your clawed fingers held tight to your baby.

“Where are we going? Surely there’s a bathroom or something near-“

“Somewhere we will not be disturbed, can you soothe her?” he asked, looking at your daughter with a grimace. You stumbled over your own feet a little.

“I – I’m trying.” Your stammered. He gave a terse little nod, eyes flitting about as he led you down a maze of corridors. By the time you emerged at the top of a flight of stairs you had no clue what way was up and what way was down. Perhaps that was what he had intended. Demetri quickly pushed his way past a heavy looking door made of dark, expensive looking wood; surprise flooded you, and it melted into horror as quickly as it came. A bed, you were looking at an extravagant, four poster bed, a room with a desk and a bookcase and a fireplace. This was a bedroom. Why would he bring you to a bedroom? Was it his? You shouldn’t have followed him. Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined all the horrible ways this once nice trip could turn out, and when Demetri caught sight of them he quickly shut the door with the most pained expression you’d ever seen on a man.

“I mean you no harm, truly, but there are things I am not at liberty to explain right now that you cannot conceive of. Use whatever you require from my bathroom to tend to your daughter but do not leave this room. I beg of you.” The urgency in his voice shook you to the core and your tears spiled over. His room? Why was it so imperative you not leave? What was wrong with this place that it was so dangerous to you you couldn’t leave this strange man’s room? His finger was as cold as marble and just as hard when he wiped the wetness from beneath your eye. You recoiled with a soft whimper.

“Please, just let me-“

“Stay, here. Please tesoro…Per il mio bene.” His finger delicately trailed your jawline before he was gone, the door closed behind him. It was like you had blinked and missed him. Lyra was quieting a little in your arms, though still crying she seemingly had run out of energy, not bawling anymore. You slowly sank to your knees, fresh tears springing to your eyes. You had doomed you both. What kind of irresponsible mother followed a strange man to his bedroom? Rocking back and forth, you shakily stroked the soft tufts of hair on her head, trembling and praying to a God you hadn’t really believed in before now that somehow, you would be okay.

With a quiet sniffle, you wiped your eyes hastily with your hand. Your daughter needed you to be strong right now, so even as you crumbled inside you pushed to your feet and paced towards the large bed, setting the pillows up in such a way Lyra would be securely confined away from the edges of the mattress. With quick, practiced movements, you cleaned her face with a baby wipe and changed her pretty little dress into a loose top and shorts combo, one you had packed for occasions just like this. Lyra wriggled, not enjoying the changing procedure and reaching for you. Maybe she was just as perturbed by the situation to, wanting your embrace, your comfort.

“It’s okay, we’re going to be okay, we’ll be alright baby.” You whispered shakily. You could make no such promise. Time seemed to drag by slowly, seconds feeling like eternity dripping by through the thin neck of an hourglass. Lyra had calmed after a few minutes of you rubbing her tummy, now enjoying the feel of the soft sheets maybe and being in fresh clothes, and her big eyes watched you as you paced beside the bed. It took a long time for you to pause, your mind coming to the shocking and horrific realisation that just because this Demetri fellow had told you not to leave, it didn’t mean you couldn’t.

Dashing to the door, you pushed down on the handle. Relief swept through you when it went all the way, the door clicking open, and with a soft gasp you raced back to the bed to collect your daughter. Her bag was of little consequence, though your purse and phone were so you pocketed these as you picked her up, cursing your old school phone and it’s poor battery life. With Lyra swaddled to your chest again in her shawl, lips smacking and a serious little frown on her face, you turned back towards the door only to find it closing behind the one man you didn’t want to see.

Your heart sank.

“You stayed.” He sounded surprised.

I didn’t mean to you thought hopelessly. Shaky hands came up to hold your baby girl again, Lyra sensing your obvious anxiety and beginning to shift again restlessly. She tried to turn her head, find the source of the noise, but you wouldn’t let her. Whatever he was about to do to her, you silently vowed your daughter wouldn’t see. You would suffer in silence, your lips pressed together in a firm line and your will caging your voice if only so Lyra wouldn’t suffer with you. Demetri held his hands up in front of him but the gesture was meaningless and empty – his eyes were now a vivid ruby red. The brightness of his irises frightened you. Deep down, you doubted he had simply gotten his irises retattooed in the time since he’d separated from you.

“I did, I did everything you asked, now please let us go.” You tried to keep your voice steady but the slightest warble gave away your fear. Demetri’s expression twisted into regret, an ugly expression his godly face somehow made it impossible to look away from, like you were the one who needed to comfort him, as though he was the one suffering and you weren’t.  

“Next time you ask me something please, try to make it something it is within my power to do.” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes, one spilling down your cheek.

“Okay,” you swallowed, “Then whatever you can do, are going to do, please don’t make my daughter watch. She’s so young, please-“you choked, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as you tried desperately to hold in the sob building in your throat. Lyra let out a noise of discontent and you immediately loosened your grip. Demetri shook his head.

“Nothing is going to happen to you tesoro. My oath was true, I mean you no harm,” he promised, pausing slightly as his eyes flitted to Lyra, “Neither of you…how old is she?” his question caught you off-guard. It was such a mundane thing to ask, given he’d more or less kidnapped you from a tour group to steal you away to his bedroom it seemed out of place almost in the conversation. You swallowed.

“That’s of no concern to you!” you snapped, turning to shield Lyra from his view some. He winced slightly, stepping closer to you.

“Will you let me explain?” he questioned, “The things I wish to tell you, need you to know, are not easy to digest, but perhaps if you know them you might yet change your opinion of me.” He ventured. His voice was casual, as though he was discussing the weather with you and was not trying to beguile you into trusting him. In truth, part of you already did, and that part had made you lean towards him ever so slightly, your ears so focused on the sound of his voice your eyes hadn’t noticed how close he was until he was mere feet away. You backed up immediately, scolding yourself for being distracted by the honeyed words of a pretty man; last time that had happened you had ended up pregnant in your childhood bedroom while your parents lectured you about condoms for three hours.

“And why would my opinion matter to you?” you demanded, cringing when your back hit stone. A window to your right gave you a beautiful view of a garden, a garden with high walls and vibrant flowers and…a disco ball? No…no wait that was…a man? You were sure the outline of a man was quite literally glowing in the sunlight, his skin reflecting the warm rays and turning them into the most beautiful diamonds that scattered along the wall he stood by. As if he sensed your eyes the bulky figure turned his head, and though his features were too far away for you to make them out you were certain he was looking at you.

“There are things in this world you dismiss as fictious but should know are very much real, tesoro.” Demetri’s voice was soft by your ear and you jumped violently, whirling around to face him. His skin did the very same thing. He stood before you, an Adonis carved straight from marble that shone bright in pure light, his room lit up by rainbows that bounced off of the prism of his skin. You reached your hand out without thinking, pure instinct driving you to both fear and question this beautiful man. When your thumb came back glitter free, your stomach churned in silent horror. There was no make up, no illusion of any sort you could see or imagine, so how was it possible he could literally shine?

“What are you?” you whispered. Demetri’s eyes never left yours, his gaze soft and somewhat sad, as if he already knew you wouldn’t like the answer.

“Vampire.” His reply was simple, yet it set off a chain reaction in your head. Every instinct that had screamed at you to run before was now screaming that it had been right and you should run again, but your rational mind scoffed and forced those feelings down even as you tried to put more distance between you both. Vampires weren’t real, and so far he had kept true to his word. Demetri had yet to hurt you, though he seemed plenty ready to lie to your face.

“They aren’t real.” You denied.

“Because my coven made you believe so,” Demetri countered, following you with slow, cautious steps, “Look at me. What man do you know of that has skin like mine? What man has these eyes? Your body knows Tesoro, it’s been telling you all along that I am wrong, has tried warning you that there are differences between us your brain cannot put a name to.”

“Stay away from us!” you warned. He froze in place, letting you put as much distance as you could between you both. With your back to the wall you stared him down, afraid to move for fear he would to. Within a blink he was in front of you, and you were falling to your knees, like he had almost anticipated your obvious collapsed. With the way your knees were knocking together it shouldn’t have been surprising really. He had moved so fast and with such startling efficiency you were left completely in awe of the smooth series of actions that led him to catch not only you, but Lyra as well. She squealed in delight, the first time you’d ever heard her make such a noise, while you could only stare with wide eyes at the man who had yet to take his arm from around your waist. He was busy watching Lyra with his own wide eyes.

“Take her,” he whispered, giving you a little nudge to get you upright, “Take her now, please, before I drop her!” he insisted. You hurriedly made a cradle and accepted your daughter back into your embrace, somewhat spellbound. Demetri had moved faster than any human could, had horrifically red eyes and skin that literally glowed…yet a baby had undone him? There was literal panic written all over his face the minute his arm had curled around your daughter and he looked quite relieved you had her now. You could only stare at him as he carefully guided you back towards the bed. Once Lyra was settled back between the pillows again you sat and listened to every tale he wished to tell you, your mind spinning.

He spoke of where he had come from and how he came to be, your mind reeling as he told you of a far off, sunny land where the Gods had ruled his life before he was given life anew. He spoke of Aro and Marcus and Caius, and the war with Romanians that had ended the slavery of your kind and sparked the dawn of an era of secrecy. He chuckled as you tentatively listed off myth after myth, taking great delight in your obvious amusement that he had been the one to circulate the rumour vampires were weakened by garlic simply because he didn’t like the way it smelled. As impossible as it all seemed, you believed him. Demetri had maintained a respectable distance from you at all times, looking more relaxed and at ease the longer you spoke. Not a toe out of line.

The cadence of his voice had lulled Lyra to sleep, your own nerves soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall as he told his stories with the kind of expertise only extensive practice could bring. The wonder couldn’t last however, not when you remembered there were other people beyond the door to his room.

“Our tour guide…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. Demetri looked regretful.

“Less a tour guide and more a fisherwoman. Heidi is like me, as is the man who dared try to confront you in the corridor.” His eyes narrowed a bit, the memory clearly unpleasant to him. You swallowed, your heart skittering in your chest.

“A fisherwoman?” you questioned, your voice weak. Demetri observed you carefully, looking reluctant to speak now. You were by no means stupid; you had a fairly good idea what he had meant but you wanted to hear him say it. He seemed impossibly perfect and as silly as it sounded, hearing him admitting to this one great flaw might actually soothe some of your own insecurities you were struggling with by just being near him. You were still losing a baby fat after all and the stretch marks…well your skin was not as unblemished as his.

“I think you know.” He said finally. You exhaled in a rush, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“She’s not even a year old,” you whispered, “My daughter isn’t even a year old, and you were going to…she brought us here to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, squeezing your eyes closed as you thought of the rest of the people in your tour group and the fate they must have endured. There was an elderly couple, Americans you thought, talking of how their history loving granddaughter would adore the pictures they were taking about the place. A young couple of Indian origin you guessed who were speaking their native tongue as they walked arm in arm, their gazes adoring as they stared at each other, a honeymoon couple perhaps whispering sweet nothings and fantasising about the life they were embarking on together.

“We would not have laid a hand on her,” Demetri swore, his voice somewhat cross, “We are not monsters, tesoro. Your child would have been taken to the authorities and given a good home.”

“Without me. You would have killed me and let my daughter grow up, without me.” Your voice was rising in pitch now and you pushed to your feet as the hysteria began to rise once more. Demetri shook his head.

“I would have done no such thing!” he snapped, losing his temper with you for the first time since you’d met. You took a hesitant step backward, afraid now you knew what he could really do but reluctant to leave him so near Lyra. Lyra…so small and vulnerable and still utterly asleep. He took a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Why not? Why would you save us?” you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your tour group had met a grisly end so why hadn’t you? Why had you been spared this fate? Why did he favour you? Demetri looked saddened again, his entire expression crestfallen, like a puppy who’d been scolded for being too close to the Christmas tree.

“I had hoped you would feel it, that you would know, at least on some superficial level.�� He seemed to be speaking to himself, distracted by watching Lyra’s chest rise and fall as her mouth moved, eyelids fluttering. It was your favourite expression on her, the one she wore when she dreamed. For a moment Demetri looked wistful, as though he was watching something he desperately wanted but was out of his reach from a distance too great to cross.

“Feel what?” you groaned, your exasperation now obvious. It was difficult to be afraid now he’d told you everything. It didn’t make sense for him to spare you just to kill you now, especially not now he’d divulged what you guessed was a great secret to you. What exactly did he expect you to feel that you hadn’t already? The whole afternoon had been a roller coaster that left you thoroughly exhausted; fear, anxiety, awe, disbelief, scepticism and more had all been prevalent in your heart today and you weren’t sure how much more it could take.

“The mate pull,” Demetri said finally, tearing his eyes away from Lyra to look up at you, “My kind, we feel so much more deeply than humans do. Some people appeal to us so much it sets a bond. Fate has a hand to play in this to of course, making a pair so compatible that neither can deny the other was made for them.” You stomach dropped, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Without thinking your hand whipped up to slap him, your hand almost breaking on impact with his cheek. His head barely moved, though he did blink a bit in shock, something you had yet to see him do despite the time you spent together. The sharp sound woke Lyra up and she let out an abrupt, piercing cry, startled and upset while you hopped up to shake your hand out with a curse.

Demetri looked absolutely flabbergasted, his head turning between you and your daughter as if trying to figure out which one of you to approach first. His hand reached for Lyra, his lips protruding in the perfect pout as he tried to shush her.

“Keep your hands off of her you pervert!” you cried, hurrying forward to scoop her up and taking a few steps back from him. There was no fear anymore, just pure rage. It boiled in your veins and curdled in your stomach, the intense disgust you felt towards him unparalleled by anything else.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! I don’t care what you are or what your world’s rules are but in mine, you keep your ancient ass hands off of my infant daughter!” you warned. Demetri paused, his eyes widening slightly before he recoiled from you with an obvious shudder.

“You think I – no! Gods no tesoro! Your daughter is not – I do not – it was you! I meant you!” he hurried to amend himself as your glare grew more vicious, and the simple confession made your mind fritz. There was nothing for a moment, a blissful few seconds of pure silence in your head, no frantic thoughts or feelings, just pure nothingness as you tried to comprehend what this gorgeous stranger was telling you.

“You…what?”

“I meant you, tesoro. The moment I laid eyes on you I was sure…do you truly not feel it?” Demetri asked, hesitantly stepping closer. You let him this time, swallowing thickly.

“What should I be feeling? Beyond confusion, there’s…there’s a lot of confusion.” You mumbled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His lips pulled into the slightest smile, but it quickly disappeared when Lyra let out another piercing cry. Neither of you had seen to her yet and you quickly set to work making sure she could see and hear you as you rocked her, patting her bottom as you swayed side to side. As she began to quieten down once more, looking confused and tired and grumpy with you for the long day you had turned out to be having, Demetri very hesitantly moved closer to you both again.

“Perhaps you feel curiosity, a desire to know me better. You may feel something when I am close to you, that tries to keep you near to me. There are many things you might feel, I could not possibly guess all of them as we all react differently to the mate pull, but I know I feel it quite acutely when I look at you.” He confessed freely, his eyes fixed on Lyra’s head. He lifted his hand, pausing to look at you for permission as his fingers neared her head. You glanced between them, finding Lyra looking at him with big eyes, no doubt confused as to why his eyes were a vivid shade of red while yours were a bright Y/E/C. If Demetri had proven anything to you so far it was that he really meant to uphold his oath, he wasn’t going to hurt either of you.

When you nodded, he ever so gently began to stroke her hair like he was touching the most precious and delicate of diamonds. Maybe it was this so-called mate pull, maybe it wasn’t, but your heart almost burst in that moment as you watched him share such a tender moment with Lyra, a moment her own father couldn’t even be bothered with. He looked absolutely enraptured with her, murmuring soft things in Italian you couldn’t hope to understand with the faintest wisp of a smile.

“Would you like to hold her?” you asked. The thought had escaped your mouth before you could fully process it and it made Demetri pause, his expression twisting quickly into concern.

“I better not, I fear I might hurt her.” he frowned. Lyra’s lips smacked, a slight huff escaping her – she clearly didn’t enjoy not holding his attention.

“I think she might hurt you if you don’t. It’s easy, I’ll show you.” You encouraged. Demetri was still shaking his head when you expertly jostled your daughter in one crooked arm and used the other to start moving his.

“Tesoro I think that I shouldn’t-“

“So long as you remember to support her head it’ll be okay, she’s only two months old, the support is key for her right now.” You explained, already handing him Lyra. There was no hesitation there, not anymore, you knew he wouldn’t hurt either of you. Demetri let out a small, panicked huff as he tried to settle his arms somewhat, relax into letting Lyra fit there. She looked thoroughly perplexed for a moment as he did his best to adjust his grip, head turning to you as if to say ‘what’s with this amateur Mom?’ before she lifted a tiny hand to place it against his chest, snuggling down into the cradle of his arm.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You nodded, unable to fight back your smile. He was adorably flustered, something you were surprised the suave vampire could be. All wide-eyed with awe you had to wonder if this was the first time he’d ever held a baby before. He stood still as stone, afraid to jostle her it seemed as they had an intense stare off. Lyra was the first to break it, a wide yawn splitting her face as her blinks grew longer. You watched her fall right asleep in his arms, slowly perching yourself on the edge of his bed to contemplate everything this meant. Demetri was a vampire, something out of your wildest imaginings, maybe a nightmare even. He had been going to feed on your tour group, on . He had been going to feed on your tour group, on you, but some supposed bond between you had made him save your life instead. Now, he held your daughter like she was precious gold in his hands, whispering sweet nothings to her in a language you couldn’t understand with eyes as doting as any father’s should be.

Did he already see himself that way? The thought made you mildly uncomfortable. He had a lot to prove to you before you’d even consider giving him the title of boyfriend, never mind father. It clicked suddenly, the realisation that your heart had already decided and was waiting for your brain too catch up. Demetri had captured your attention in more ways than one and his world sounded…fascinating.

“What if you stop feeling this pull? Are we in danger then?” you asked finally. Demetri seemed to struggle to tear his eyes from Lyra for a moment, but when his eyes met your’s they were flooded with sincerity.

“Vampires mate for life tesoro…even if I wished to fall for another in the midst of an argument perhaps, I physically no longer have the capacity to. It is you and only you who was made for me.” He vowed, moving at a snail’s pace to carefully sit himself beside you.

“We’re a bit of a package deal.” You pointed out. Demetri nodded.

“It was not expected, that I might find my mate with a child, but I confess I find myself in awe of her. Two months, did you say?” he questioned, glancing briefly at you. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah two months old.”

“So she will not stay this small for much longer?” he sounded almost sad and you giggled slightly.

“Believe me, the sooner she sleeps through the better.” You lifted your hand to gently run a fingertip down her cheek.

“If you stayed I have no need for sleep, I could see to her in the night with some guidance, but I know I cannot ask that of you.” He sighed. You swallowed, the nerves fluttering in your gut. He was already asking you to move in with him? You wanted to see a red flag but you couldn’t. Demetri clearly wanted to look after you both. Why shouldn’t you let him?

“My parents would go mad.” You agreed hesitantly. Demetri chuckled.

“I shall have to win them over then. A child complicates matters, buys us more time to figure out exactly how we might proceed. She is a blessing, tesoro.” He promised you. Your brows pulled low together.

“What does Tesoro mean?” you asked.

“Ah, it means darling…I may have neglected to get your name.” he admitted bashfully. Your eyes widened, mind replaying all the time you’d spent with him that afternoon. He wasn’t wrong, you hadn’t introduced yourself once.  

“It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. That there, is little miss Lyra.” You told him. Demetri sighed.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful pair…her father must be missing her, no?” he was clearly hesitant to ask and you didn’t blame him. You couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to just…walk into someone’s life, knowing they were made for you and find they already had a child that wasn’t yours. Come to think of it could vampires even have children? You had so much to learn…

“He left the minute he found out I was pregnant…you’ve spent more time with her than he ever has.” You informed him, the bitterness in your voice obvious. Demetri looked upset by that but you didn’t question or comment on it. With slow, careful movements, he gently began to rock her. You doubted he would relinquish her to your grasp anytime soon.

“He is a fool…but I’m not.” He whispered. You smiled slightly, a strange warmth filling your gut. Who’d have thought you’d find your very own Prince Charming while touring a castle?

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #female reader #volturi #heidi volturi #newborn #fluff #so much fluff #you could make a build-a-bear factory with it #single mom reader

[captcas]

Something to Hold Onto by captcas

Emma Swan has always had two superpowers. First, she can always tell when you’re lying. Second, she can retreat into the magical storybook she was found with to visit her fictional friend, Killian Jones. When Emma gives the book up, she wonders if she’ll ever see Killian again. read on ao3

Phoenix, AZ; November, 2000

Pregnant?

Emma slides down the tile wall of the Shell bathroom. Usually she’d do everything in her power to avoid touching anything in a gas station restroom. Right now she can’t find it in herself to care about the amount of infectious diseases she’s being exposed to, her eyes fixed on the two pink lines that just threatened to change her entire life.

Threatened? More like promised.

She jumps when she hears a knock on the door, “Ems? You ok?”

It isn’t until she wipes the tears from her cheeks that she realizes she’s started to cry. Neal knocks again, “Ems! You good?”

Clearing her throat, she musters up the will to answer, “Yeah, uh, just a minute.”

She scrambles for her backpack, desperate for an escape she’s not entirely confident will be there.

It’s been too long.

When her fingers touch the cool leather of the mysterious book that has somehow woven its way into every important moment in her life, a sense of calm overwhelms her. She knows that avoiding her problem isn’t going to change anything, but right now, she couldn't care less. As she settles in her lap, the positive pregnancy test laying the floor in her periphery, she thinks back to the first time it allowed her to escape.

Des Moines, IA; 1989

Emma hears footsteps coming from down the hall and quickly pulls her blanket over her head. She hates the way it makes it hard to breathe but she also fears what’ll happen to her if she gets caught up past curfew again. She holds her breath as the door creaks open and doesn’t move again until the door shuts and the footsteps walk away. Coming out from under the covers, she takes a deep breath of fresh air. Once she’s sure no one else in her bunk is awake, Emma pulls the thick, leather book out from underneath her bed. This book is one of the only things her parents left her; a book, a blanket, and a name. Ever since she could read, and even before, if her foster parents were kind enough, she’s poured into these stories– escaping reality for ogres, pirates, princesses, and true love. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the stories almost seem ever changing and expanding. She never has to choose what to read, the book opening and picking a story for her– although she finds herself partial to the updates of the young Snow White.

Tonight she opens to a brand new story titled “The Brothers Jones”. She’s never heard of this fairytale, but that’s how most of these stories start out until they twist and turn into well-known characters from movies that the other kids watch to pass time. It seems rather short, but Emma doesn’t mind, especially seeing as it’s way past her dictated bedtime. She hunkers down into her pillow and begins…

Once upon a time there were two brothers. Liam, the eldest, was outgoing and mature, helping their parents around the house and picking up odd jobs around town to help with trips to the market. Killian, on the other hand, was quiet and kind. He often found himself staying home to take care of their mother. At ten years of age he was too young to get a real job, so their father, Brennan, and Liam took care of earning money in hopes to keep their mother alive.

One night, Killian’s mother took a turn for the worse, her breathing slowing until it stopped. The family gathered around, comforting one another over the loss of Alice.

The following days seemed like a blur for the family, preparations for her funeral taking up most of their time. When the day finally came, the Jones boys were distraught. Her burial became too much for young Killian so he took off to the one place which could calm his worries, Brennan and Liam calling after him as he ran. Liam wanted to go after his younger brother but Brennan stopped him, urging him to give Killian some space.

Emma pauses for a second, shining her flashlight over the picture of the two boys which accompanies the start of the story. Her finger traces over the face of the younger one, she thinks to herself that she wishes she could meet this Killian. She glances a moment longer and turns back to the story…

Killian ends up by the docks, his legs moving on their own accord. He finds an empty slip and decides to sit on the end of the pier, crying over the loss of his mother.

Emma suddenly feels as though she’s drifting to sleep. The words seem to be floating off the page and wrapping themselves around her. When a flash of light surrounds her, Emma is sure she’s dreaming. She shuts her eyes in fear, unsure of where this dream is taking her.

Suddenly, her bare feet hit cold ground. She shivers, still too scared to open her eyes, her hands acting as a makeshift blindfold. She hears what sounds like a seagull and smells what she can only imagine is the sea. It’s a comforting quiet disrupted by the soft sound of someone crying. In a quick bout of bravery, the young girl opens one eye. Gasping, she removes her other hand from her face and her eyes grow wide. Sitting in front of her is Killian Jones, the boy from the storybook. She hesitates, but slowly walks towards him. She now knows he’s the source of the quiet sniffling and pauses, unsure she should bother him. Before she can turn around and explore more of her dreamworld, Killian looks over his shoulder and wipes his runny nose on his hand. He looks at her intently, and Emma is drawn to the deep blue of his eyes which seem to shine brighter through his tears. His eyebrows curve in confusion and he speaks, “Who are you?”

His voice is the most beautiful thing Emma has ever heard. His accent is unlike anything she’s heard before, but it’s melodic and reminds her of her favorite song. She hesitates to respond, but somehow feels comforted by his presence. “I’m… I’m Emma. Are you… Killian?”

His eyebrows shoot to his hairline but he gives her a soft smile, “Yes, miss. I’m sorry I don’t recognize you, I’ve never seen you here before.” He scratches behind his ear as she struggles to explain where she came from.

She’s sure she can say anything, she’ll wake up in the morning and Killian Jones will remain the figment of imagination he is, so she’s honest. “Oh! I’m not from here. I’m from Iowa! Well, at least I’m from Iowa right now…”

“Iowa?” Killian questions her once again. “I’ve never heard of such a place. I don’t get to travel much. Is it close to here?”

Emma decides to sit down next to him, both of their legs swinging over the dark water. “I think I’m pretty far from home. One minute I was reading in my bed and the next I was standing behind you.” Emma flinches at her own honesty but reminds herself it can do no harm. She’s finding peace in this dreamworld, she almost feels as though she has a friend.

“Well, Emma, I don’t know how you’re here but I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad moment.” He hangs his head, fiddling with a hangnail on his left hand.

“Your mother…” Emma says it in barely a whisper but Killian hears it all the same. She clasps her hands over her mouth.

“How did you––” He looks afraid of her and she hates it.

“Killian, I––,” She reminds herself again he’s just a dream, “The book I was reading… you were–– are a character in it. That’s how I knew your name, and about your mom. I also know about your brother, Li––”

“Killian? Is that you? Killian!” Emma is cut off by who she can only assume is Liam looking for his little brother. She scoots a bit away from him and hides her face in embarrassment while he turns to talk to his brother. Confusion was etched across Killian’s face before they were interrupted.

“Aye, Liam. It’s me. I’m sorry for running, it’s just… mother… she––” Killian is practically toppled over by a hug from Liam.

“I understand, Killian.” Liam looks as though he’s been crying but smiles and rubs his brother’s head. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” It’s then that he notices Emma. “Brother, who is this?”

Killian’s neck heats up with blush and Emma has to suppress a giggle. “Liam, this is Emma of Iowa.”

Emma chuckles loudly this time and Liam looks a bit confused but brushes it off quickly, “Ah, hello Emma. I hope my little brother hasn’t burdened you with our troubles too much. Where is your family?”

Killian mumbles something that sounds like “younger brother” and Liam smirks slightly. She supposes it’s something between siblings and ignores the ache for a family that lives deep in her soul. Emma snaps out of her melancholy to answer, “Oh, um, they’re at home.” She shoots a look at Killian, urging him to help her keep her secret. She once again is warring with the part of her brain which says none of this is real but shoves it down in light of Liam’s stare. “I should be going.”

Killian looks like he’s about to say something when Liam speaks, “Ah, yes, well we should be getting back to our parents as well.” Liam’s voice cracks at the word parents, but he continues his strong facade in front of his brother. “Ready, Killian?”

“Aye, I’m right behind you, brother.” Liam hesitates but turns away to leave Emma and Killian to say goodbye.

Emma speaks first, “I’m so sorry about your mother, Killian.” She looks down at her hands, she’s never had parents, but she can imagine watching one die is not easy.

“It’s ok, Emma. Liam and I will manage.” Emma can tell he’s being brave for her but she lets him continue. “You go home now, I’m sure your parents are worried.”

“I don’t have parents, I’m an orphan.” It bursts out of her before she can stop herself, her innate need to be honest with Killian taking over. She’s scowling now, ready to spit back any pity he throws her way, but when she looks up, all she sees is understanding. He nods at her.

“Will I see you again, Emma? Friends are all too rare in my life.” She smiles softly, happy to have made a friend herself.

“I hope so, Killian.” They smile at one another and she hears Liam call him from a distance. Killian nods once more and runs to his brother, glancing back over his shoulder one last time. Emma smiles, and watches him fade from sight.

As quickly as Emma landed in this world, she is back in her bed. The book sits open on her side table. She grabs it, hoping to see more of Killian’s story to add fuel for the rest of the night’s dreams. Emma is shocked at what she sees. Side by side are the text of her encounter with Killian, and a perfect sketch of the two of them sitting on the edge of the pier. Emma expects to be scared, but instead she’s comforted by the drawing of her and her new friend. She closes her book, and places it in it’s hiding spot, easily drifting off to sleep with memories of ocean air and the sound of Killian’s voice.

Phoenix, AZ; November, 2000

She hasn’t visited him since Ingrid— it’s not fair that she uses him like this, but she needs him.

And he promised. They promised.

With a deep breath, she opens the book and thinks of her friend as the warm light surrounds her and takes her away...

Sea air fills her lungs as she finds her footing– the breeze a sure sign she’s landed wherever Killian finds himself these days. She orients herself by finding the water and spots a ship coming into land– Emma would know that ship anywhere. While she can tell it’s the Jewel, the vessel’s usually regal presence seems tarnished somehow. As it nears the shoreline, she sees Killian at the helm. A smile spreads across her face before she can stop it– he always looked so at home on the water. As he nears the beach, Emma senses something different about her old friend. He’s older, each of them learning long ago moves differently in their separate worlds– almost as they need it to rather than on any set timeline– but she can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than age.

Killian directs the crew effortlessly, not a single soul arguing with him. The ship hits land and Killian gazes over the side long enough for Emma to notice the heavy space beside him. Something’s missing– someone’s missing. It dawns on her as the ramp hits the sand… Liam.

Killian walks off the ship with a swagger she doesn’t recognize– a false confidence she’s positive only she would recognize as a front. Second guessing her decision– maybe she’d stayed away far too long– Emma reaches for the leather book. Selfishly, she takes one more look at her friend, or the man which used to be. He scans the beach with a stoic look that only falls away when he meets her gaze. A smile breaks out across her face as he runs towards her. She lets go of the book, anxious to learn more about where she is and what Kilian’s been up to. He barely says hello before she's wrapped in his arms choking up at the pure innocence of his laugh when he picks her up and twirls her around.

“Emma Swan!” Killian puts her down, swiping a soft curl from her cheek, “It’s been so long, love.”

Emma can’t speak, she’s changed since they last met, but not like him. Studying him, she releases him from her grasp and her hands trail down his arm, hesitating when her left one hits something foreign. Killian flinches and tucks it under his jacket. She’s still unable to put a finger on what’s different, but her old friend, always sure and steadfast, seems… lost. She can’t help but speak candidly, “Killian, where is Liam?”

He smirks, a mask unfamiliar to her aside from her brief glimpse of him exiting the ship, “Ah, yes, ‘fraid my brother was lost to the sea.” He gazes off before seemingly being startled into remembering her existence, “Emma! You can’t be here, it’s dangerous.”

Emma looks around for the first time since she arrived and realizes this place is unlike any portside town she’d landed in previously. “Where exactly is… here?”

If she didn’t know better– Killian Jones is not afraid of anything– she would’ve sworn she saw fear flicker across his eyes, “Best you not know. Why are you here? Is everything alright?”

His genuine concern reminds her of the pregnancy test she left in the Shell bathroom. Never one to mince words and never sure how long they truly have, Emma breaks the news abruptly, “Killian, I’m pregnant.”

Now she knows its fear– coupled with a brief flash of sadness that she doesn’t have the energy to dissect– that crosses his gaze, “Emma, ho–”

She cuts him off, she doesn’t want to answer the questions, doesn’t want to disappoint him, “It doesn’t matter. I will be ok, I just… needed to see you.”

He nods before turning to a small man in a red beanie who has hovered close by but out of earshot for the entirety of their conversation. “Smee, it will be dark soon. Gather supplies and take the crew aboard. I will return shortly.” The man nods before yelling a feeble attempt to wrangle up the rest of the crew while Killian leads Emma closer to the water’s edge. She knows there’s more to everything happening here than he’s letting on, but she also knows that if he’s not telling her, it’s with reason.

They find a small alcove, hidden from the ship, and Killian takes her in his arms swaying slowly. She can’t help but giggle, “Killian, what are you doing?”

“Just, I know you probably don’t have long, but please– before you go, just– one dance.” She nods, this tradition is one she should’ve seen coming. They danced the first time when Emma was nervous for her first homecoming dance– he taught her how to slow dance. Her next trip was to tell him she’d moved again and never gotten to go to the dance after all– so they swayed once more... that was the last time she’d visited.

As they settle into a comfortable stance, Emma feels something cold hit the small strip of skin exposed at her back. Logically she knows it should be his left hand, but the chill feels metallic. She stops herself from flinching, not at what must be a prosthetic, but at the temperature of the metal. Meeting his gaze, she can tell her lack of response comforts him briefly before the exhaustion and fear returns to his features. He forces a smile before pulling her closer— clearly, he doesn’t want to be here anymore than she wants to be home, so she dances. Killian hums quietly, a melody she’s heard many times before and often sings to herself when she needs the comfort of her friend. They don’t speak at first, the soft sound of his hum and the distant white noise of waves hitting the sand more than enough to fill the air around them.

Emma feels another wave of fear fall over her and breaks the silence, “I don’t really know how, Killian.”

He leans in closer, “It’s easy. Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.” He winks at her and they feel like children again— twirling in fields of flowers and playing along the shoreline. For a moment, she forgets the monumental changes waiting for her at home and just tries to be happy. Killian spins her around, dipping her, and making her laugh like she hasn’t in what feels like her entire life. He slows and begins to hum a different shanty she doesn’t recognize but causes her to sway back and forth all the same. She has to stop herself from jumping when he speaks again, “I know you’re scared, Swan, but you can do this.”

Emma doesn’t tell him that she knows she can’t, that she knows Neal can’t– or that he won’t. Instead, she just savors the moment with her best friend.

Whether he’s real or fiction or an impossible dream stopped mattering long ago— Killian is always here, a constant in her inconsistent life, and that’s worth everything to Emma. She gazes into his eyes, as easy to lose herself in as the ocean, and he looks back. They’re practically nose to nose and Emma can see every scratch, bruise, and line of exhaustion that covers his face.

He’s still one of the most beautiful humans she’s ever seen.

Maybe it’s that realization that causes her to lean in ever so slightly. His eyebrow raises quickly before mimicking her movement. They have history, it’s patchy and incomplete, but it’s theirs and no matter what Emma always finds herself back in this fantasy’s arms.

He’s fiction, always has been, but he’s been an escape all the same. Emma doesn't second guess her decision to kiss him– no harm, no foul when this is all a dream anyway…

But it never comes.

Their moment is disrupted by a loud cawing noise. It almost sounds like a bird, but the way he flinches and the stoic fear that settles across Killian’s face hints that, whatever made that noise, is not to be messed with. His back stiffens beneath her hands before he moves in front of Emma. Using his left hand– no, hook– he pushes aside the tree blocking their view, “I’m sorry, Swan. You need to go. Now.” He turns back to her frantically, and with fear in his eyes growing, she has no choice but to believe him.

Her heart is beating loud enough that she's positive he can hear it too and she’s not sure if it’s the imminent danger or the fact she almost kissed him.

He’s not real, Emma.

Still, the look in his eyes fools her into playing along once again, rushing back towards his ship as darkness falls like a blanket across the beach. Emma stops him, selfishly pulling him behind a bush for just one more moment alone. “When will I see you again?” She isn’t sure why she’s asking when it’s always been up to her.

He smiles at her before pulling her tight, “Just hold onto this— to us and our parallel existences.” His right hand cups her cheek and she takes a moment to find comfort in his warmth, “You’re one of the only reasons I’m alive, Emma Swan. Let me be your something, as you are mine.”

Emma can feel herself crying now, the reality she’s returning to feeling scarier than whatever has Killian rushing her home, but he’s counting on her to survive, so she will. “I’ll see you soon, Killian.”

He smiles at her one more time, bright and hopeful, “Aye, Swan. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, she feels the warmth bubble inside of her as the light surrounds her once again and takes her back. In no time at all she’s sitting again on the dingy tile floor of a gas station in Phoenix. She holds the book close once more before putting it back in her bag. She sighs, remembering Killian’s faith in her, as she grabs the pregnancy test and goes to break the news to Neal.

As she leaves the bathroom, she’s startled by two officers with their guns drawn. As she’s told to raise her hands up, the lifted watch Neal gave her for her birthday catches the harsh fluorescent light and the positive test falls from her hand clattering against the linoleum at her feet.

Phoenix, AZ; August, 2001

“Emma, are you sure?” The doctor questions her as he wraps her crying son in a towel.

She refuses to look, the tears and sweat stinging her eyes. Emma knows if she holds the small boy, she won’t be able to give him up. The doctor turns away, placing the small boy into a bassinet behind him and Emma feels a weight lifted from her. Being given up herself, Emma swore she’d never put a child in that position, but she also never thought she’d be giving birth in prison.

The recollection of her own upbringing sparks something inside of her, “Wait!” The doctor turns around, something like hope in his eyes. Emma knows he thinks she’s changed her mind, but in reality, her decision has only been further solidified by her choice not to send him off alone. “There’s a book. In my personal belongings. It’s leatherbound and full of fairy tales– please, send it with him.”

The doctor looks at the guard who nods before sending their partner to retrieve the storybook. She’ll feel safer knowing even a piece of her— and a larger piece of Killian– will be with her son no matter where he ends up. The book made her feel like her parents at least cared enough not to send her off alone, and she hopes it provides the same comfort for her son.

It can be his something to hold onto.

Slight melancholy aches through her at the realization she’s given up her right to visit Killian ever again. She thinks he’d understand– support her even. Still, Emma smiles softly as the book is placed next to the hospital crib before drifting off where memories of distant lands keep her fast asleep.

Boston, MA; October, 2011

“Another banner year.” Emma blows out the blue star candle, and makes the simplest of birthday wishes. As she begins to unwrap the cupcake there’s a knock at the door. Startled, but curious, she opens it to a young boy looking at her like she’s standing on her head.

“Can I help you?” Emma’s had a long night, and while she could really go for some girl scout cookies, she doubts the small boy outside her door at 8pm is here to sell her any.

“Are you Emma Swan?” He tilts his head as he asks, a simple movement that Emma almost finds endearing.

“Yeah. Who are you?” She’s trying not to be impatient, but she really needs to take a shower and wash off the scum from her skip earlier that evening.

“My name is Henry. I’m your son.”

Well she wasn’t expecting that .

Storybrook, ME; 2011

Henry’s adoptive mother is– something. Regina Mills is not who Emma expected when she spent late nights picturing Henry with a family, but he has a roof over his head and everything he could ever want. And the town, Storybrook, is quaint and safe. Henry seems healthy.

What more could she have wanted for her son?

Maybe to not have the gut feeling that something— no everything — is off in this town.

Regina (aggressively) asked her to leave after dropping Henry off, but she can’t find it in herself to head back to Boston just yet. She wanders into a small diner that touts an attached inn, and the warm atmosphere is beyond inviting. Against all previous plans, she settles herself onto a stool at the bar and orders herself some hot chocolate. As she sips her drink, she takes in the rest of the diner only to realize almost everyone is looking at her. Almost. There’s a dark haired man with his back to her sitting in one of the booths. Emma finds herself fixated on him, and the fact that, unlike everyone else in the diner, he couldn’t seem to care less that she’s here.

A waitress in a short red skirt drops off soup at his table before making her way back towards Emma. “Hey, new girl. You want some food?” Startled by her forwardness, Emma responds with a stutter, “I– uh– no– I’m not– uh.. Why is everyone staring at me?”

The girl– Ruby if her name tag is anything to go by– belly laughs before answering, “Girl, we haven’t had visitors to this town in ages .” Emma isn’t sure how to take that but Ruby doesn’t seem to mind as she keeps talking, “I mean, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever had a visitor in this diner. Strictly regulars. That’s why they’re staring, hun. Not to mention, you’re pretty easy on the eyes.” She shrugs her shoulder in Emma’s direction and winks with a wolf’s smile.

She’s spunky and Emma likes her, “Well, I’m happy to be your first. Do you have any rooms?”

Ruby scoffs again, “All of them– no visitors remember? Except room 9, Sailor Boy over there has taken up permanent residence in that one.” The waitress motions towards the man in the back booth before flagging down an older woman asking for a room key.

Emma glances again at the dark haired stranger, wanting to know more, but having no real reason to strike up a conversation. Before she can approach him, she’s being handed a key and ushered up the stairs to her room by a pushy old lady that everyone seems to affectionately call Granny. She settles in for the night, her curiosity about the town and its residents only growing the longer she stays.

When she wakes up, it’s to Henry knocking on her door again. She opens to find him practically vibrating, “You stayed?!”

She can’t help but smile at his excitement, finding it hard to tamper her own, “Yeah, kid, I did. Don’t you have school or something?”

Henry smiles, “Not for another hour, wanna grab some breakfast?”

Emma nods and follows her son– not sure she’ll ever get used to that– down the stairs to grab some breakfast from the diner. They order from the counter when all the booths are full, but decide to move when one opens as their food is ready. Emma thanks Ruby, grabbing their plates of waffles, before turning towards the booth just as someone walks behind her. The plates crash to the ground, both her and the man she bumped into bending down to help with clean up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“My fault, lass. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Emma knows that voice– would know it anywhere.

When she doesn’t answer, he looks up at her, concern etched across the animated eyebrows she’s known for almost her entire life. If she wasn’t positive before, she is now, the blue eyes that haunted her dreams for years after giving up the book are staring directly back at her. “Killian?”

He looks stunned, but there’s no recognition in his eyes— eerily similar to their first night so many years ago on the docks. The warmth of his gaze, the excitement at meeting once again, and the hint of infatuation Emma always stopped herself from hoping for are gone without a trace. The unsettled feeling that’s sat in Emma’s stomach since the moment she and Henry crossed the town line the night before seems to boil over. All the air feels as though it’s escaped her lungs, suffocating her as she realizes the only person she’s ever come close to calling her best friend has no idea who she is. Her fear is solidified when he speaks again, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

@mariakov81​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @teamhook​ @nikkiemms​

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs ff #cs canon divergence #captain swan fanfiction #capthamm #bye capthamm #captcas