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kiwisbell · 8 months

Text

Boots [joel miller]

Joel doesn't like the idea of someone else gettin' all your best.

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: jealous joel giving you a lesson in who really likes you best, birthday sex, (over)protective joel, softie joel, dominant joel, oral sex (m and f receiving), face-sitting, riding, no plot just porn and some fluff because it's me, possessive sex, praise kink, squirting, established relationship

word count: ~ 4.5k

hello, all! i'm beginning to unload my fics onto tumblr for those who prefer reading in this format - and as a result, some of you lovely folks who follow me will likely see works you've already read before. i sincerely apologise for that, but many new projects are in the works as well because i love y'all and i live to please. that aside, if you're new here, welcome, and i hope you enjoy this one-shot!! <3

BOOTS

If there's anything you know about Joel, it's that he can get real angry.

It ain't like he's always mad. He lives a lot of his life in utter silence, but you like to watch him. Sometimes, in the dark, he sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers and bringing them to his chin. He’ll sit like that for hours without moving, barely shifting to take in air, and you know never to shake him from that trance. It’s how you’ve learned to read between the lines.

After fifteen years by his side, you can gauge his moods better than the weather. He’s got a restless spirit, but his voice is midnight water. It’s calm and dark and clear, and it rumbles: the ripples left behind by skipping stones. He never lashes out at you, never raises his voice.

Except for that one time in New Jersey.

“Are you goddamn fuckin’ stupid?”

This was a little while before you could patent your Joel-handling techniques, so you did what any woman would do when a man calls her stupid: you folded your arms over your chest and got just as mad. “Stupid?” you said incredulously. “I saved your ass in there. Multiple asses, actually.”

Above you, the canopy of brilliant red leaves felt like a bloody shawl, and they crackled underfoot. You sported a limp thanks to a sprained ankle and your lip was bloody, but you were fine. Truly. And yet, Joel’s anger was pulsating. You could see it: heat waves, distorting the air around him, his brows flattening over his eyes and his nostrils flaring. A bull ready to charge. He was brimming with the need to release this energy.

Behind you, a building burned. The fire was a monstrous, lively thing, and it scorched the hairs on the back of your neck. Inside lay the bodies of the men you’d stolen the medical kits from, along with two of your own crew. It was only you and Joel left. It was autumn, and the breeze was welcome in such relentless heat.

He’d been ambushed just as much as the rest of you, but rotten fuckin’ luck had pinned a man on top of him—armed with a knife, inches from Joel’s eye. Not trusting yourself to make a shot without hitting him, too, you had tackled the man without thinking much. It had worked well enough to send his knife clattering across the burning hut. He’d landed a punch to you before Joel had blown his head clean off. Brain matter still clung to your jeans, but you tried not to look. When you’d rolled the body off you, Joel shot him again. He was covered in blood from his greying hair to his boots.

“Your job is to look out for yourself out there,” he snapped, “not me. The fuck were you thinkin’?”

Your frown only deepened. What had you been thinking? Maybe leaving him to die would teach him a lesson or two about what it was like to fear for someone’s life. Even if it was his own. “We need to go. You can yell at me later.”

Joel didn’t say anything when he kneeled at your feet and lifted your ankle up onto his raised knee. You yelped when you almost toppled over, but he kept you steady and inspected the swollen flesh. He was achingly gentle when he prodded at you, his expression softening into something more like concern. “This hurt?” he asked.

“Of course it hurts, Miller.” You lifted a brow at him, but he wasn’t looking up. “Want me to try on a glass slipper, or can we go?”

“Still think that was stupid,” he grumbled.

You snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one who can navigate for shit, and I don’t fancy getting lost without my own personal compass.”

When he stood, Joel surprised you some more by gently patting your leg. “Real nice,” he said under his breath, shrugging the strap of your pack farther up your shoulder. “Stay behind me.”

You grinned up at him. “Happily.”

He never gets angry for long. Not at you.

There’s a knock at his door in the rhythm only the two of you know. He still checks the peephole, but it’s you. You slip inside, practically bounding on the balls of your feet, that cute fuckin’ grin on your face as you hide something behind your back. “Guess what day it is,” you say.

Joel will never let it leave this room that he indulges in your stupid game. “Sunday,” he tries.

Your pout is extravagant, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t make him want to bite it off your pretty mouth. “Rhymes with smirthday. Y’know… the only day I ever ask you for anything.”

He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

You roll your eyes and bring your hands around from behind your back. You’re holding a cupcake.

“Holy shit. Where the fuck did you get that?”

“The FEDRA guy who monitors my building likes me,” you tell him, honest as ever. Too honest for this world and too damned sweet to be anything but a liability. And yet, here he is, digging, indulging, sinking his claws in. “Enough to sneak this to me from the kitchen, apparently.”

That makes him feel real fuckin’ grumpy. Nobody with eyes would be enough of a fool to deny that you’re gorgeous, but it doesn’t make him sleep any better knowing other men are chasing that brilliant twinkle in your eyes. He wants to tuck it between his ribs and let it illuminate his insides. He doesn’t want anyone else to see it, not ever.

“He’s tryin’ to make a move on you,” says Joel. “That’s what that is.”

If there’s a second thing you know about Joel, it’s that he lives with his foot in his mouth. Unfailingly.

You have long since learned the tactics of Joel-handling. You'd be offended if it were anyone else, but you just pat his cheek affectionately. “Sit down.”

To his credit, he does, but not after some grumbling. You scrape the second chair along the floor until it's right next to him. You split the cupcake in two as best you can and pass him one of the halves. Joel eyes it suspiciously. “You sure this is edible?”

You just take a bite and groan. It's been a long time since you've tasted chocolate, let alone the decadence of over-sweet frosting. Joel watches you carefully. Your lashes flutter in your trancelike enjoyment, a small speck of white frosting on the top of your nose. He's overcome with the knowledge that people in this world would try and take you from him. That people have put guns to your head, that they have harmed you, that they'll do it again and again. This world does not leave a woman like you untouched.

It's a good thing you've got him to make sure the world goes nowhere near you.

“Got frosting on your nose,” he says gruffly, trying to suppress his smile as he swipes it away with his thumb. “Some killer you are.”

You kick your legs up onto his lap. His thumb idly circles your ankle bone. “I don’t pretend to be a killer. I get by just fine, Miller.”

“Yeah?” He lifts a brow. “And if I wasn’t here?”

You shrug. “Dead, probably.”

Joel takes a bite of the fucking cupcake and he's a little mad when it's not bad.

You sit at the window on his bed later, your knees drawn up to your chest and your cheek resting atop them. You like to watch the lights of the FEDRA vehicles and the occasional star that winks at you from high above the QZ. You're a pretty sight to look at all the time, but it feels somehow more delectable when you don't know he's looking.

It's nearing midnight, and you're getting up to leave. Curfew means you have to scurry back to your apartment across the street or you'll be stuck here all night. It also means you have to walk right past the same officer who snuck you that cupcake.

“You asked me once if I ever wanted to end it.”

Across the fire, he looked like a spectre: a thing you could not touch, sizzling tendrils of silvery air curling around crackling flame. You’d stopped for the night, and neither of you wanted to sleep. Even though you’d both seen enough fire for a lifetime, you still extended your palms toward it and let it warm you as you watched his dark brown eyes grapple for a way through the thistly wood of his past.

“I tried,” he told you. “After I lost her.”

Somehow, you felt undeserving. Like wrapping your fingers around a piece of Joel Miller’s steel-hard aorta and yanking out all the precious bits that came with it. Like licking the blood from the heart and shoving it back inside. Would he ever be the same knowing another soul in the world had this information? Would he come to regret telling you?

He watched you stand and shuffle up next to him on the piss-poor, blood-stained excuse for a sleeping bag. When your fingers lifted to the scar on his throat, he did not flinch away. Your hands were warmed by the fire. It filled the very soul of you, that flame. He did not meet your eye, but you looked into his nonetheless.

“I’m happy you missed.” A hand, warm and kissed by a tenderness he would never deserve, settled at the nape of his neck. Fingers gently combed through the grey strands, and he leaned into your touch, not quite understanding the pull but giving in nonetheless. For the first time in years, he thought he might be able to sleep if you just kept touching him like this.

Your next words were soft, but they were not afraid. “But I’m sad I never got to meet her.”

His head turned, and at last, his eyes met yours.

“Me, too.”

You smiled sadly. “Joel.”

“Don’t ever,” he said slowly, his hand squeezing your knee, “play fast and loose with your life again. Your life happens to fuckin’ matter to me.”

And that was that.

At some point, this began. Neither of you attempt to define how or when. Perhaps it has always been. It isn’t like time matters anymore.

When you pass Joel on your way to the door, he grabs your wrist.

“Does that FEDRA fucker know whose place you go to every night?”

You sigh, turning your head to meet his eyes: glimmering black beetles in the dim light. “Joel. Don’t be an asshole.”

But he’s long past trying not to be an asshole, especially when it comes to people honing in on his fucking territory. He tugs you by the waist so your back is pressed against his chest. His fingers are splayed over your belly. “You like him?” he says into your ear.

Your lashes flutter on your cheeks. “Joel.” His name sounds like the citrus of the oranges you like from the cafeteria. It’s sweet and tangy and somewhat discrete. “You know I need to meet with Robert about the battery tomorrow. You’ll keep me up all night.”

A grunt rumbles deep in his chest. “You’re not goin’ to see Robert alone.”

“That was part of his deal.” You gasp when he buries his face in your neck, sucking at the skin beneath your ear. He’ll make it show up angry and purple for the FEDRA officer and, fuck it, the entire QZ to see. He’ll litter your whole body with bruises and hickeys like he's a goddamn teenager if that's what it takes to keep you here.

“Shit fuckin’ luck.” His fingers dip to the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rock subtly and he smirks against your skin. “Robert doesn't get to decide how this goes.”

“Yeah, he does. He’s the one with the battery.”

The scratch of his beard is rough and deliberate against your neck. “If he doesn't wanna see me,” says Joel, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down, “he can tell me himself.”

“He’s terrified of you.”

Joel turns you around and presses you right up against his chest. You feel his hardness at your belly, the sear of his gaze through yours. “Good,” he says. “Get on the bed.”

It’s already midnight, which means you’ll get chewed out if you try to leave now. Joel’s plan, you guess. “You jealous of a little FEDRA officer, Miller?” Backing toward the bed, you smile up at him, coy and teasing.

“You never answered my question.” He chases your body, stalking toward you as his hand juts out to squeeze your hip. Your legs hit the edge of the bed. “Do you like him?”

His lips are so close you could just surge toward him and end this suffering. But he's keeping you at arm’s length, keeping you pliant under his touch because he knows—the bastard—that he’s winning.

Still, getting a rise out of Joel Miller is your birthright. “Would you rather I fuck a Firefly?”

A faint sneer twists his mouth, and this is his anger. This is the simmering, thrilling thing that infests your very blood. He’s jealous, and you're surprised at how deliciously it thrums in your lower spine, knowing he’s furious at the thought that someone else could even come close to the way he knows you.

The kiss begins slowly. For the heat you can feel through the press of his chest against yours, his nose only gently nudges yours as he works his way up to claiming your mouth. When he does, it’s a bizarre and dizzying shift compared to the rage you know he feels. The desire to march out onto the street and beat that officer to near-death. He compensates with a unique tenderness, taking his time with you, his hand pressing down against the exact spot on your lower back that forces his hips to mould to yours. His other cups your face, his fingers winding into your hair and curling at the back of your neck. It forces you to look up at him.

His beauty loops like a knot through your nerves. If you prodded any spot on your skin, the blood beneath would sing with the topography of him. You know the lines of his face better than your own. There is a patch in his beard that resembles a heart. There is a twinkle in his eye that lingers when he frowns and smiles. It’s a rare thing in such a sullen person. But you like finding those eyes in the dark. Somehow, for you, he’s hope.

When his lips finally meet yours, they're soft, and he lets you reach up to tangle your fingers in his soft, messy hair even though he’s doing everything he can to keep you under his control. Not that you mind. He knows you're his.

He deepens the kiss with a soft groan, curving his body over yours, tongue seeking the seam of your lips. You part them willingly, gasping when he lurches forward and slides his tongue along yours, biting and sucking at your lips. Joel growls softly at the faint noises you make, your fingers tightening in his hair, the pleasing sting in his scalp sending jolts down to his hard cock.

“MmmmmJoel.” You’re panting, desperate for air he won't give you. He likes this—making you gasp, making you weak, making you forget entirely that you’re supposed to be teasing him.

“Careful,” you gasp, barely able to form words around his mouth on yours. “Gonna hurt your back.”

That only seems to egg him on. He may not be young and agile anymore, but that’s never stopped him from giving you what you need. He turns you around and lies on his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. Your jeans go quickly, sliding down your hips with your panties and dropping somewhere on the floor. Your shirt follows, his fingers enjoying their path along your shoulders as he slips your bra straps down: a rare moment of indulgence and appreciation in a world that does not allow either.

For a moment, he just looks at you, brushing the pad of his thumb across your chin. Your eyes glimmer from the light through the window. “You only like me,” he says. Matter-of-fact. He knows.

But you smile, because he decided to say it anyway. “I only like you, Joel Miller.”

A hand kneads your ass, giving it a smack. You jump in his grasp, but he just gives you that crooked smirk and whispers: “Come take a seat.”

You rear back, frowning at him. Is he—

“You waiting for a sweeter invitation, baby?” His voice is low and gruff, unused to compromise. You feel his fingers dig into your ass and pull you up onto his chest. Your cunt is slick with anticipation and the ichor of desire.

He wants you on his face.

“What if I—”

“Sit.” Every letter feels like a deliberate strike, bone-deep. “C’mon, now.”

Let me show you how much I like you.

Your bottom lip between your teeth, you shuffle gingerly up his chest until you can brace your hands on the wall, your cunt hovering over his mouth. Joel doesn't like that. He wraps his hands around your upper thighs and forces you down onto his face. You gasp his name, one hand flying to his hair and locking your fingers in his locks. “Fuck.”

He grunts, squeezing your thighs up to your hips as he pulls your clit into his mouth, lathering it with his spit and your wetness. It’s white-hot: the pressure on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, the insistent bump of his nose against your clit as he teases his tongue around your tight hole. “Joel, Joel, fuck,” is all you can manage, sweet little gasps that he drinks in, his hips bucking involuntarily with the delicious pain of your fingers pulling at his scalp. You're losing grip on the real world and slipping elsewhere, and he wants to get you there.

One of Joel’s hands slides between your legs, easing them open even more, and rests on your belly, shifting to your ribcage and helping you steady yourself atop him. His fingertips graze your breasts, reverent and gentle despite their roughness. Those hands have been split and bloodied, but they hold you like they’ve never known anything but kindness. His eyes closed, savouring the taste of you, his fingers trace a scar on your sternum from an incident at knifepoint six years ago. He cannot see it, but he knows it nonetheless.

Joel is greedy when he has his face buried in your pussy. He doesn’t get the opportunity to take his time like this often; the both of you have only ever been acquainted with impermanence. But now, tucked comfortably between your thighs, licking between your folds like a starving fuckin’ dog, taking what he wants from you.

The sounds are slick and obscene, mingled with your drunken sighs and words of encouragement as you curl your fingers against the wall uselessly. “Joel,” you whimper, your hips rolling against his face, moonlight bursting on your eyelids. “I… can’t… so good—”

He groans, his hand smacking your thigh, feeling your cunt gush on his tongue as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly. He’ll imprint the feeling of him on your skin forever—if he hasn't already. He’ll make sure you never have another man like you have him.

It’s a selfish thing, love. He's mastered clutching it to his chest and keeping his palm closed right around it.

“I’m… oh, fuck, I’m gonna…” Your hips buck wildly, and a growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you steadfast and firm to his face. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and fixes his tongue to you, wiggling slightly as he feels you stiffen above him. “Oh, my—gonna come!”

He knows. You're already coming. Your hand leaves his hair and braces next to your other one on the wall, ensuring you don’t fall over as your thighs shake uncontrollably and your mouth drops open in a keening whine. Joel keeps lapping at your clit long after your orgasm fades and you cry out from the overstimulation. Gently, you reach down to tug his hair, and he reluctantly pulls away. He’s so hard he can’t conjure much mental activity besides getting his dick wet.

Your chest is heaving as you try to pick your leg up and get off him, but your strength fails you. Instead, Joel grabs your hips and sits up, your cunt sliding down to sit on top of his erection. Experimentally, you grind down on him, watching a muscle in his jaw feather. “Are you going to let me take your pants off?” you ask him, teasing, your finger tracing the metal of his belt buckle.

He grits his teeth, letting you take control for a moment, sliding the belt achingly slow out of each loop. Your wicked little smile is so pretty in the darkness, illuminated briefly by passing patrol vehicles through the window. Unbuttoning his shirt, you dip your body low to his chest and press gentle kisses all the way down to his soft belly and the trail of hair disappearing under his waistband.

Joel moans brokenly when you shuck his jeans down his legs and squeeze his hard length before it can slap up against his stomach. There’s a tattoo on his inner thigh that you like to trace with your fingers, something he got with his brother when they were young. Your tongue darts out and licks up the precum pooling at his slit, making his cock twitch in your grasp. “Jesus,” he groans. “Baby, c’mon, let me—”

Your soft lips parting around the throbbing head of his cock destroy whatever end to the sentence he had planned. Squeezing his strong thighs to ground yourself, you swirl your tongue around the tip and take him deeper, your throat expanding to accommodate his thick, heavy weight in your mouth. He huffs, grumpy that he can't think straight for long enough to stop you and overcome with pleasure all the same. You squeeze his thigh again, your thumb rubbing circles over the little tattoo, and he meets your eyes. They're watery, blinking hard to expel the tears, his hand instinctively cradling the crown of your head to keep you on him, keep you choking around him.

When your nose meets the thatch of hair above his base, he’s the one who chokes, his head tipping back. “Jesus, fuck, goddamn—” His fingers curl in your hair and gently urge you off his cock; you pout, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. His dick jumps at the sight, lying hard on his stomach.

“Come up here,” he rasps. You do, crawling up his body until your hips are flush, his hardness slotted, thick and throbbing, between your folds. The hum that leaves your mouth is wanton, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hands move to your lower back, digging into the flesh just above your ass so you’re forced to roll your hips along his shaft.

Your mouth drops open at the jolt of pleasure to your cunt. “Oh…”

“That’s it, baby.”

He cannot come inside you, but he can come like this. And he will, probably faster than he likes; your pretty lips parted, your eyes lidded and boring into his even as you grind along his cock, unwavering. You look good like this. You look happy and soft and all his.

Joel’s hands clutch you a little harder, roll you a little faster, your hands supporting your weight on his firm chest. He’s so fucking close, your wet pussy soaking his length and his tip catching on your sensitive clit with each roll of your hips, but he needs you to come again. You come first.

“Joel,” you sigh, your thighs locking tight around his hips, nectar and frosting and citrus.

“I know,” he says, “I know. Keep goin’, baby. C’mon. Doin’ so good. Jesus, so good.”

The first orgasm was a meticulous build-up. This one crashes down with the ceremony and courtesy of an ambush: it seizes your whole body and leaves you helpless. You moan his name—maybe you whisper it; everything is loud in your ears—and double over, your cheek pressed into the hollow of his throat. He keeps you moving, seeking his own high, bucking up against your cunt.

“That’s it.” His praises gently puff out across the top of your head, tucking your head under his chin, admiring the curve of your back and the supple taste of your skin under his fingers. His balls draw up and his core goes tight with imminent release. “Fuck, baby. Fuck—”

There’s a hot, wet splash against your belly, then another, and another. When you peel yourself away to watch his cum spurt onto his stomach, your cunt tightens with the pulsating rhythm of his shaft under you and another brief, but devastating, rush of pleasure surges through your whole body. It almost fucking knocks you over. You lift yourself off his cock in time to see a burst of wetness soak him, dribbling out around your bodies onto the mattress. Joel groans, his brows lifting, another spurt of cum landing on his belly.

“Jesus Christ.”

You list to the side, unable to hold yourself up in any capacity. You land next to him, your arm belted across his chest, fondly nudging a pec with your nose. “Me, too,” you mumble. Your voice is hollow.

Joel turns his head to face you, and you swipe some cum off his belly with your index and middle fingers, looking him in the eyes as you lick it up and swallow. He grabs you by the back of the neck and kisses you hard. “No fuckin’ FEDRA asshole,” he grumbles into your mouth, “is gettin’ anywhere near you. And neither is Robert.”

You forgot that was what this was about. “Joel,” you whisper, lips migrating from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, his scratchy beard, “you can’t keep me safe forever.”

He reaches around to grab your ass and then hitches your thigh up onto his hip. “Yeah, I fuckin’ can. Stay here.”

“We aren’t related, or married.” You pin him with a stare. “They would never let us.”

Joel lifts his brows. You roll your eyes. “We aren’t married.”

He’ll pick a fight in the morning. But you already know you won’t be going to see Robert about the battery with your big guard dog standing just behind you. Robert can suck it the fuck up, for all Joel cares.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he says, squeezing your thigh. “It was a shitty cupcake, though.”

You laugh, kissing him on the nose. “No, it wasn’t. For all you know, you may never have one again.”

“For the fuckin’ best,” he grumbles, chasing your mouth again. You let him kiss you, and neither of you get much sleep.

He really didn't mind the cupcake.

#kiwisbell's fics #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fic

3K notes · View notes

masterwords · 1 year

Note

I am a sucker for stories about characters getting together, mutual pining/ idiots to lovers are the best!

I would love a good story like that with Hotchgan unfortunately there aren't many out there like that.

So strange that Hotchgan get so little notes on AO3 and so much love on tumblr

Hey! I love those types of stories too! I'm going to fully admit right now that I'm not good at writing pining, especially with these two...but I tried. And it got long. The problem is that I'm not sure Hotch really allows himself to pine, and Morgan just kind of...goes for it. So I had to put them in a situation, and it gets kind of ugly but it ends with kisses so HANG IN THERE while you read okay? As far as getting together stories...I do have a number of them, I can definitely link them directly for you if you haven't read them. I've written hundreds of thousands of words about these idiots. (Ignore that if you have.)

Thank you for sending me this request! I'm not home a lot to write lately because I have a passel of kiddos and they're always in sports which means a LOT of traveling, but I had a lot of fun (and agonized a lot over it, not gonna lie) writing this and I just hope you like it!

.........................................................................................................................

Quid Pro Quo

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: divorce, anxiety, carsickness/gagging, Vincent Perotta, implied talk about abuse and other bad Hotch childhood things (brief)

Words: 5.6k

In an '82 Dodge Diplomat, they rolled down the deserted highway, dirt kissing the fresh white paint job. Police issue, from the back lot, Derek's favorite place to choose from. Of course they could have had something newer, nicer, preferably an SUV according to Hotch...but this reminded Derek of his dad. No longer silver streaked with bright blue, no longer screaming POLICE, it still had that smell. Some kind of sharp vinyl smell that permeated everything, new car smell but somehow dusty and old at the same time.

“All the cars on the lot,” Hotch muttered, playing around with the loose heat controls. He was freezing. The smell of burning dust was all that wanted to come out of the heating vents. “And you choose this one?”

“Give her a second,” was Derek's reply, his hands running along the smoothed out plastic and metal of the steering wheel. Cars now were so bulky, this one was sleek. “Specs said everything is in perfect condition. She's an old girl, probably needs some time. Tell me you wake up spry and ready to rock firs thing in the morning...”

Hotch grumbled under his breath about how rude that was, but he couldn't deny it. He wasn't getting any younger, and neither was this car. But, it wasn't a lie. Ten minutes later and that heater was about hot enough to melt through the dash, and Hotch had his hands greedily held as close to the vents as he could get. Long before heated seats, this was the best he could do.

“Did your dad drive one of these?” That had to be it, the reason Derek would choose this car out of everything else on the lot. Tons of them, kept in tip top condition, for the times when airline tickets weren't in the cards. They weren't going far enough, they were told, to warrant the cost of an airline ticket plus a rental car, and they certainly weren't going to use the jet for just the two of them. It was only about 330 miles, give or take, to the Ohio State Penitentiary and it was simply not worth the trouble of flying. Still, 300 miles sounded a lot nicer with a newer rig, heated seats, better sound insulation.

Especially when Aaron thought about who they were going to see. Vince Perotta had just been moved from Essex in New Jersey to Ohio State, his lawyers worked out a sweet deal for him. He bounced around every year or so, and as soon as he was settled they came calling on Hotch for a visit. Promising more names, more locations, anything to get him to agree to a face to face. Normally he went on his own, the team didn't even know he did it. Just take a few days, tell everyone it was personal time, and hit the road.

He'd been planning to do the same this time, too, until Haley had him served. Until he held those divorce papers in his hand and felt his entire world burn to ashes. She'd warned him, told him she was going to do it, she wasn't playing...but it didn't feel real until he held them. And now he'd lost whatever confidence he had in going to see a man who took pleasure in picking apart his carcass slow and methodical. That's all these visits really were. Perotta would give, but he would also take. It was the taking that required the extra day of personal time. But he didn't think that would cut it this time, so he asked Derek to come along.

Derek who had a million questions that he knew better than to ask. He just smiled and nodded, loving the car and the simplicity of it. There was something sweetly nostalgic about it, and Aaron could almost feel his sentimentality for this old beast of a car. It soothed his frayed nerves. “Yeah. I rode around in a car like this every day after school. Dad would pick me and my sisters up, take us out for a donut or a soda, tell us not to sass mom and do our homework, then drop us off at home. Same thing every day...” Until it wasn't. Until that ended, but he didn't want to go there. Not now.

“My father drove a Caddy,” Hotch offered automatically. He was staring off into the distance, nothing but highway and farmland as far as he could see. There was a big wall of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, thick and gray and ominous. “A big 1968 Cadillac Fleetwood...champagne with these custom white leather seats that scorched your legs in the summertime and never warmed up in winter.”

“You learn to drive in that beast?”

Hotch laughed a joyless laugh. “Are you kidding? My father wouldn't let any of us behind the wheel. He bought my mother this station wagon that was half a block long and almost as wide. Wood paneling on the sides. I learned to drive in that. Took out a few mailboxes before I got a handle on how big it was.”

“What happened to the Caddy when he passed?” Derek asked, hoping it wasn't too forward of him. Aaron made a little huffing noise and shook his head.

“He left it to Sean. You can imagine it didn't last long. He sold it for rent money, so he claims. I have my doubts.”

Derek did too. He knew Sean well enough to know that he wasn't exactly the most trustworthy person. Not exactly responsible. That he and Hotch shared both parents and a genetic pool never ceased to amaze him. Still, he liked Sean. A night out on the town was always more fun when he helped make the plans.

“Hey, that bag on the backseat, can you grab it? I brought a little surprise...”

The minute Hotch lifted it up, he knew what it was. The sound of plastic clacking together, the jagged angles bulging against the thin nylon. He set it on his lap and waited for Derek to invite him to look inside, and what he saw didn't exactly surprise him. “Pick one.”

“Derek, we don't need music...”

“Bullshit. Pick one. They're all classics.”

It was a pile of mixtapes. White covers with meticulously labeled track lists in various colored ball point pen. Definitely Derek's handwriting. “You made all of these?”

“Those go all the way back to high school, man. Seriously, they're all gold.” Now Hotch understood why Derek chose this car. It was more than just nostalgia. He could control the entire musical experience. And, he thought a little suddenly (not even sure where it came from) that Derek might be trying to cheer him up. Or take the edge off of what was going on in his life. The gesture was appreciated.

Hotch sifted through the tapes with thinly veiled fascination. He had a few tapes still in a shoe box somewhere, probably in the storage unit. Nothing this elaborate, and he wondered as he poked through the pile whether Derek had every cassette he'd ever owned. Probably. They would be neatly cataloged, on display, too. A part of him wanted to see it.

The rest of the trip, Derek couldn't be contained. He sang loud like he was in the shower, dancing with his shoulders in his seat, patting and drumming against the steering wheel. There was something almost contagious about it. Hotch even found himself humming along more than once to songs he knew...some Whitney Houson, some Marvin Gaye, even Dwight Yoakam and Elton John. He really did have a little of everything, and he wasn't lying when he said it was all good. Hotch may not have enjoyed the Nas as much as he did the smooth, soft sounds of Lionel Richie, but he found that he couldn't help bopping along with the beat anyway.

By the time they were nearing their motel, Hotch was eagerly reading through the track-listings trying to find a suitable next tape. He almost wanted to just continue to drive...something about getting to know Derek through this felt intimate and like a gift. Better than any amount of talking.

They ordered a pizza and settled into their motel room easily. Two beds, a grainy old television and a coffee machine. Not exactly high-end accommodations, but they were happy to be out of the car and kicked back on lumpy old mattresses watching half an action movie until they passed out. The daunting nature of the following day had Hotch on edge as much as he tried to hide it, and Derek did his best not to bring it up. He didn't need to ask to understand that there was something specific about Vincent Perotta that got deeply under Hotch's skin.

It did his, too. Watching the man garrote his friend, being unable to take the shot, years later it still made him angry. The bruises beneath Hotch's buttoned tight collar were purple black and his voice had been hoarse for nearly a week after. As it slowly went back to normal and the bruises faded to sickly yellow, everyone else seemed to forget but Derek couldn't. He stared at it every time they were in a room together, considering it a failure on his part.

If given the chance to go back, he didn't really think Perotta being alive was terribly important to the investigation or saving Jimmy, they could have figured it out on their own...he'd put that bullet between Perotta's eyes without thinking twice.

Police station was the first stop in the morning for a short seminar, as Jason used to call them. Rossi just told them that while they were on the road, they may as well stop by and poke their heads in. Especially since they now held a prolific serial killer in their jurisdiction and he was a doozy. Hotch didn't mind the short distraction. They had some basic information to present but it was more of a conversation that they wanted to center around Vincent Perotta. A Q&A session with cops who weren't usually terribly receptive to what they did. Derek always made it easier, having been a cop himself. It was like an instant kinship. He would walk in and they could just tell by the way he walked, the way he carried himself. He was one of them, and Hotch was an outsider. He tried too hard to combat that, be friendly instead of putting up his usual shield of armor...usually it worked after a while. They either respected him or took pity on him, either way they usually warmed up but not today. Today it was one knock down after another until he found himself retreating to the silent shadows beside the power point on screen and let Derek take lead on their session. It would be over soon. He wasn't there to rile them up, and Derek had it under control.

Afterward, the Sheriff apologized to Hotch and he figured that was about the best he could have hoped for...but Derek, he had them on board with what he was saying.

“You could have done that on your own,” Aaron said, lugging the bag of equipment over his shoulder. “I was only in the way today.”

Derek regarded him sadly and shrugged. “You're just off your game. It's understandable, man. But I was talking to one of the guys afterward, while you were with the Sheriff. Guess they've been burned a few times lately by Feds jumping into their business...it's not you. Don't take it personally.”

“They called me a pencil pusher,” Hotch muttered, throwing the bag into the backseat with a huff. Derek laughed.

“Well shit, they're calling you worse now that you're not in the building.”

Hotch stopped and held his hand up over his eyes to shield them from the sun while he stared at Derek more than a little incredulously. “Like what?”

“Oh you know...cop things...” Derek's voice was sly, mischievous, and his smile said he wasn't about to tell Hotch exactly what he knew. “Things my mama would tan my hide over if I repeated them. You're better off not knowing.”

“That isn't true. My imagination can fill in the blanks. Just tell me.”

“Not a chance, Hotchner. Your mind isn't nearly filthy enough to come up with half the shit they'll say just at the coffee maker, let alone at the bar after their shifts are over...pick a tape so we can drive to the prison and get this over with.”

The prison was Hotch's place. Being a cop didn't help you there, but being a former prosecutor helped. He knew the walk, the sign in, the way to interact with the guards. Derek fell in line, followed Hotch's lead, knowing that his expertise stopped at booking these guys into the county jail, once that transport bus came he was out of their lives. And he was fine with that. These custodial interviews made him nervous...prisons weren't kind to ex-cops, for starters. Hotch could fool everyone into thinking he was just a lawyer, just a pencil pusher, but Derek, he gave off the vibes of I put you here you asshole. These guys fed on it. He'd done a few custodials on his own and preferred to have someone with him if at all possible, though he'd never say it aloud. He could never admit that.

He had his suspicions that Hotch knew, though, because he never sent Derek alone. Not once. Gideon had, Rossi had, but Hotch always went with him or gave him a partner.

“You don't have to do anything in here, just...” Hotch paused, searching for a way to make this as painless as possible. “I couldn't do this one alone. Whatever you hear in there doesn't leave this prison.” Derek didn't have a chance to reply before the guard let them into the little room set up for them. Derek just nodded his understanding, as nonchalant as he could, even though he felt the rock settle in in the pit of his stomach. He was more than a little uneasy, this wasn't going to be pretty. If it had Hotch nervous...hell he didn't think he'd ever seen Hotch nervous.

Perotta was already seated at the small metal table. He looked like a giant, his meaty fists chained to a metal hoop in the center of the table. Hotch eyed the chains and considered his options. He swallowed and there was an audible click in his throat as he did so.

“Agent Hotchner,” Perotta said in his cool, slow voice. “You brought us a guest.”

“Yes,” Hotch replied quickly. He tried to come up with a lie, a reason, something to give Perotta but he was sure by now that the man could smell the lie he was cooking up. “I thought it best I didn't come alone today.”

“Oh? You sound different, Aaron. Have you been sleeping?”

Hotch sighed and led Derek around to the other side of the room, cautiously giving Perotta a wide berth. He wouldn't sit too close, either. That chain looked tight but Perotta was strong. Involuntarily he gulped and felt that phantom barbed wire feeling. “Does that count as your first question, Vincent?”

Perotta smiled his feline smile, bearing his teeth. “Sure. I'd love to know what's keeping you up at night these days.” Almost instinctively, Perotta's gaze drifted from Hotch's face to his hands as he pulled out his file and pen, and then his smile widened. “Where's your wedding ring?”

“That's two questions, Vincent. Do you expect me to answer both of them? You're going to have me out of her faster than usual at this rate.”

Perotta glanced at Derek briefly, and then back at Hotch. Derek almost thought he could see Perotta's gears turning and he didn't like what he was seeing. Still, he waited. The silence ate away at their hour and he would be glad to let it.

“I knew she'd leave you. Was it a shock to you?”

Hotch remained silent, no longer wanting to play Perotta's little game of cat and mouse. “I'd like you to answer that one question. I know you're not sleeping because she left, that no longer interests me. I'd like to know if you were surprised that she left you.”

Hotch held Perotta's intense gaze. “I suppose. When she took our son and left, I thought she might still come back. I shouldn't have been surprised when she had me served, she gave me ample warning, but I was anyway.”

Derek couldn't believe the honesty that Hotch was affording this man chained to the table. He wondered if he could have gotten such brutal honesty out of Hotch if he'd asked. Maybe he would, he hadn't ever really tried...he rarely tried to get Hotch to talk because he knew it made the other man uncomfortable.

It was a peculiar back and forth. Perotta had a slew of questions prepared, and to Derek's constant amazement, Hotch answered him honestly each time. He worried his thumb over the inside of his ring finger, right where that wedding ring no longer sat, and stared hard at Perotta. Hotch answered questions about his childhood, about his father, about things Derek didn't know. It was almost like walking into a movie that was already half over, a continuation of previous conversations. Perotta asked, but he never had a response and his face stayed stony and unreadable. He took careful mental notes, cataloging every syllable. And yet he could tell Hotch was withholding as much as he thought he could get away with. These stories were honest, but threadbare. Perotta wouldn't know his tells the way Derek did. Maybe he could tell an outright lie, but he wouldn't see through the minor infractions. Careful guarding of information that was too deeply personal, too well buried, to speak into the world.

“You've got two questions left,” Hotch said, clearing his throat. It wasn't any worse saying those things in front of Derek than he thought it would be, it was only as bad as he imagined. That was a relief. If he had to bare his soul in front of anyone, he couldn't ask for anyone better.

“I'd like to ask Agent Morgan a question,” Perotta said after a long, pointed silence. He'd been weighing his odds, studying the two men. “May I? I'll forfeit my final question.”

“That's up to Agent Morgan,” Hotch answered quietly, before turning to Derek. “You don't have to say yes.”

Derek squared his shoulders and stepped forward from where he'd been standing a few feet behind Hotch, just a casual observer. “You can ask, but I'm not promising I'll answer.”

“No,” Perotta oozed, smiling. Realizing he once again had the upper hand after only a momentary lapse. “That isn't the deal. But I'll work with you. I ask you the question, and if you're not comfortable answering, I get to ask Aaron two more anyway.”

Derek hated the sound of that. If he thought the question he was asked was too personal, too much, the focus would shift back to Hotch who had already answered such deeply personal questions that Derek felt sick on his behalf. Hotch didn't look too bad off, all things considered. He'd looked worse before they came in. It had obviously been eating at him, the anticipation of this conversation. The fact that Hotch hadn't told him about any of this, hadn't shared with him what was about to happen, was gnawing at him.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

Perotta grinned. There was nothing endearing or sweet in his smile, it was as near as Derek thought he'd ever seen to real evil. “Did you know you were in love with Aaron before you aimed your gun at my head, or was it my garrote around his neck that did it?”

Derek cleared his throat nervously and balled up his fists to hide the tremor. “That sounds like two questions...” His voice was frail and he found that he couldn't look at Hotch. Bright spots clouded his vision. Perotta shrugged lackadaisically.

“I suppose it is. You can't blame me for my interest?”

“You don't have to answer that.” Hotch's voice sounded far away to Derek's ears and he sat down on the bench beside his friend. Sat hard, before he passed out. He wasn't sure why he was reacting this way, really. It wasn't like he'd never been put on the spot before, he did this shit for a living. And it also wasn't like he hadn't ever confessed love to someone who didn't want to hear it...you don't get to his age without a few broken hearts. But something about this felt so much bigger. So much worse.

He had more to lose this time.

“Come on, Agent Morgan. I've got a time limit. If you don't answer soon, your friend here might not get the information he's after. We'll have to wait until next time.”

“I,” Derek started, swallowing hard. “Before. But I don't think I understood it until that moment.”

Hotch stared hard at Perotta, refused to let himself be distracted by the sudden sharp pain in his chest, the dizzy feeling that washed over him. He studied Perotta's reaction, the pleasure at making both of them uncomfortable, at what he figured would probably destroy their working relationship after it made for an awful drive home. He looked pleased.

“The paper,” Hotch said with some finality, glancing only briefly at the clock. “Time's up.”

The little sheet of paper was released from Perotta's grip, crumpled and damp from his sweaty palm but it was legible. Same as always. A name and a location.

It took Derek almost a full minute to gather himself, to stand up and follow Hotch out of the room once Perotta had been removed. They didn't speak all the way down the corridor, and they didn't say a word as they got their weapons back and re-entered the free world.

Derek sped up as they walked to the car. He unlocked Hotch's door first, old school locks being what they were, he was still a gentleman even if he was more than a little off his game. Old habits die hard. Once inside the car he rifled through the tapes, selected one, and turned it up a little too loud. Loud enough that he couldn't hear himself think. And he definitely couldn't hear anything Hotch might want to say.

He knew what was coming. Useless platitudes. He'd assure Derek it didn't mean anything, he'd forget all about it, even offer him an out to say he'd lied and said what Perotta wanted to hear. And the most frustrating part of all of it was that he would do it. He'd forget it, if Derek wanted him to.

“Derek,” Hotch said as Derek floored the gas a little too hard and made his stomach do a somersault up into his chest. “Derek.”

He turned the music up and drove a little faster. Hotch sighed and looked out the window, watched the prison disappear in the rearview mirror. The softened, damp piece of paper was still in his hand...his unpleasant day was only beginning. He still had to find this person's family, get the police out to the location, dig up remains. His shit was getting deeper and that pain in his chest was quickly turning into a sick feeling in his stomach.

Quickly, without giving it too much thought, he flicked the volume button until it was all the way down and turned toward Derek. His knee knocked into the console and he winced at the jolt of pain. “Derek.”

“Stop please. Just don't.” He was getting angry now. Angry at what? Perotta? Or maybe Hotch for bringing him along in the first place? Or himself for answering so brutally honest when he had no reason to. Hotch gave him an out. But he'd been so angry about being blindsided by the content of the conversation and far too guilty about how much Hotch gave up to lie, or worse, to refuse to answer. Lord only knew what other violations Perotta had in store for Hotch. As it was, he felt like he'd been watching an assault in graphic detail.

“Was it true?” Hotch's voice sounded small and fragile, the question leaving him breathless. Derek's foot eased up on the gas a little at the sound of it. He frowned.

“What? What I told him? Yeah, I guess it was...didn't think lying was an option after everything you gave him...”

“What I gave him was part of the deal I made. You didn't owe him anything. I'm sorry I put you in that position.”

One painfully silent moment stretched into the next and finally, on an empty stretch of highway between the prison and their motel, Derek veered off to the side of the road in a cloud of dust and squealing brakes.

“You're sorry? Man...” Derek's anger was tangible and he knew, without a doubt, the person he was angriest with was himself. “Don't you dare do that.”

Hotch pursed his lips and waited. Derek didn't look like he was done talking. He was just busy processing.

“He thinks you guys have a lot in common. That's fucked up, you know that? Looks at you like you guys are the same...”

“I suppose in some ways ways...”

“No. No. You're not. Maybe you guys both had shitty fuckin' dads but that doesn't make you the same. You gotta be smart enough to see that.”

Silence. All the color had gone from Hotch's cheeks. “It isn't that simple, Derek.”

“No, of course not...it never is...”

Another long silence. God the silence was painful. It was thick and settled in his chest. Finally, when Hotch couldn't take it a moment more, and it looked like Derek was going to start the car again, he reached over and placed his hand over Derek's before he could turn the key in the ignition.

“I asked if what you said was true because...” he paused, gathering what little courage he could still muster after the beating his soul just took in that prison. He wasn't sure he could come back from this if it went south, not after everything else. The things Derek knew about him now...he was too raw to even meet his stare. He'd never shied away from eye contact with Derek before.

Hell, in that case, he might already be dead in the water. “What Hotch?”

He desperately needed Derek to soften a little, and under the gentle touch of his hand he almost seemed to. Almost. He didn't make things easy. “Because what dammit?”

When Hotch took too long to respond, Derek groaned and turned the key in the ignition, shaking Hotch's hand away with the motion. Frustrated, Derek let out a sigh and floored the gas before turning the radio back on and back up. Way up. There was a faint sting of tears in Hotch's eyes. Tears of frustration, at Derek for being so impulsive, for being so open, at himself for being unable to do one fucking thing he wanted to do. This whole trip had turned out to be just as disastrous as he'd anticipated. His fail-safe had blown up in his face. He'd tried to avoid the self-destruction of going on his own but managed to make it worse.

There was nothing he could say now. He knew Derek well enough not to touch that volume dial again or they'd be on the fast track to an actual argument. Instead, he sat silent, each of them stewing in the raw emotions Vincent Perotta had scraped up. The man had a knack.

Derek blew past the turn off to their motel, and Hotch watched it fade into the distance curiously. Part of him thought about speaking up, but his features were set and he looked in absolutely no mood to hear anything come out of Hotch's mouth. So, he kept himself quiet. Clear on they drove as the afternoon turned on them, those storm clouds finally making good on their threats. They'd been hovering all day but the air was still, quiet, calm. Now it crackled with electricity, he could feel it in his teeth.

Derek switched the tapes silently, loud plastic clacking together as he worked one handed. Hotch thought this might be the time, the brief silence between tapes.

“Derek, pull over,” he said quietly, his stomach twisting. He'd done a fairly good job at holding it off. His carsickness was usually enough to keep him in the driver's seat, but he didn't often have trouble if Derek drove...unless he was driving like a wild man through a violent sheet of rain and thunder. This sudden out of control feeling of barreling toward endless black chaos. “Please pull over.” His voice had taken on a breathy quality that Derek didn't like. He knew it well enough from years of sitting in the backseat of a car piloted by Gideon down back roads and highways. Before the jet was in their employ whenever they wanted it.

He swerved onto the shoulder of the road and by the time the car was in park Hotch was spilling out the side onto his hands and knees, gagging and heaving. Nothing was coming up, there was nothing to come up, but man did it hurt. He crawled further away from the car, as if the movement would help. At least it would get him away from the pungent smell of exhaust. Thunder rumbled through the air around them, followed shortly by lightning that lit up the sky as he skidded down the embankment and pushed his way into the wall of corn stalks to get some shelter from the rain. Derek stayed in the car, and he was grateful for that. His stomach cramped painfully but thanked his lucky stars he never actually got sick.

Some part of him knew he wasn't just car sick. It wasn't Derek's driving, it was the time with Perotta, it was the smell of his breath so close, it was that phantom pain in his windpipe every time he looked at the man's hands. It was every single thing he said about his father, about trips to the emergency room and social workers and his mother. It was memories dragged up from murky depths that tasted like bile and blood. He gagged and whimpered until it finally settled and he just sat there, crouching inside the strange shelter of tall cornstalks and drenched spiderwebs that looked like silk and diamonds when the lightning lit up the sky.

“Hotch!” Derek's voice floated strangely through the electric air and he pressed his palms against his thighs to try and stand up. His knees shook a little and he nearly fell, but caught himself quickly against one thick stalk.

“I'm here,” he answered, staggering out of the field. Derek was standing just outside of his door, staring incredulously into the night while Hotch lurched through the muck and up the small embankment to the road. “I'm sorry.” He muttered it while he shucked his soaking wet jacket from his arms and tossed it into the backseat and kicked the muck off of his shoes against the tires.

“You good?” Derek asked, and Hotch could tell that he'd softened a little. The edge was gone from his voice, and his features didn't look quiet so stern. “Need another minute?”

“No, I'm okay.” He paused, meeting Derek's eyes over the roof of the car briefly. “Derek...what you said to Perotta, is it still true?” Somewhere in that muddy corn field he'd found whatever sliver of courage still existed in him and lit it on fire. It would burn fast and hot, it wouldn't last long. He shivered and pushed his wet hair back from his forehead, staring intently at the man before him.

“What does it matter?” Derek asked, reaching for the door, to let Hotch in. He wanted to get out of the rain, but Hotch wouldn't move. "Hotch, get in..."

“Just answer me. It matters.”

“I don't know. Yeah, I guess it's still true. It's okay, you can tell me it's fine and you don't care and...”

He didn't get a chance to finish before Hotch was grabbing the sides of his face, palms splayed drenched and a little muddy against his cheeks, and leaning forward for a kiss. There was nothing gentle about the way he pulled Derek toward him, the way he dove into that kiss hungry and more than a little desperate. Behind them thunder rumbled through the field and moments later the sky lit up in a ferocious web of blinding light. Derek's arms wrapped tight around Hotch's waist, pulling him close, chest to chest, hip to hip and he leaned them up against the car door. His feet slipped in the growing puddle beneath them, but somehow the rain seemed inconsequential. They lost track of the entire storm, the fury of mother nature faded into the background.

“Let's finish this at the hotel,” Derek whispered, his teeth chattering. He really hoped the heater warmed up a little faster this time. Hotch smiled dreamy and tired.

“We'd be there right now if you hadn't missed the turn.”

Derek glared at him, nose to nose, and squeezed his waist a little harder. “Don't push your luck. I'll leave you here.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #hotch x morgan #fanfiction

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theinvisblegirl21 · 2 years

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I’m Never Letting You Go (Captain America x reader)

Author’s Note: Hey guys, so this is my first time posting on tumblr! I hope you guys enjoy this story. I wrote it a few years ago on Quotev and decided to post it here! Sorry in advance for any writing errors! Have a great day/night.

TW: Death and any writing mistakes!

Everyone got suited up and we were getting ready to go back in time to get the infinity stones and bring everyone back. We were all separated into teams and were assigned a stone to retrieve and bring back. Bruce was going to get the time stone; Clint, Tony and Scott went for the space and mind stone; Rhodey and Nebula went for the power stone; Thor and Rocket for the reality stone; and Cap and I went for the soul stone. As we all stood in a circle, I began to feel nervous. What if something goes wrong? I asked myself but I decided to push away my doubts. No this has to work! We're gonna bring back the others! I told myself determinedly. "See you in a minute," Nat said, smiling at everyone and with that we all went into the quantum realm and went to our designated times. Cap and I found ourselves surrounded by rock and a tall mountain rose in front of us. The both of us exchanged a glance before we began our climb. Steve and I have been together for nine years which is a long time and during this time we been through a lot together. I was there for him when Nick Fury "died." I was by his side when we fought Tony and the others when we refused to sign the accords and to protect Bucky. I was there when we had to go into hiding as fugitives. And I was there when we watched all our friends crumble to dust in front of our eyes. As Steve and I climbed I remembered the first time we kissed. *Flashback* Fury had just died and Steve and I were trying to figure out what was on that drive that he gave Steve. We stood in the Apple store and I was trying to locate where the drive was from. I was typing on the computer as quickly as I could when a sales associate came by. He came up to Steve and looked at him as if he recognized him. I felt Steve tense up beside me as I began to type even faster when the sales associate snapped his fingers and said, "I have the same exact glasses as you do!" Steve and I just laughed and relaxed just a bit. "Well then aren't you two twins," I joked, looking up at the sales associate for a moment. "Is there anything I can help you with?" The man asked. "Oh no, we're just looking for honeymoon destinations," I said, smiling innocently at him. "Ohhh where do you guys plan on going?" He questioned. Steve looked over my shoulder ever so slightly and said, "New Jersey." "Well congratulations you two! If you need anything my name is Chris!" he said and he walked away. I quickly took the flash drive out of the computer and we walked out of the store together. We noticed that there were a bunch of "SHIELD" agents walking around the mall looking for us so we decided to walk where not much of them were. Up ahead we saw an agent walking in our direction so I nudged Steve to get his attention. "Put your arm around me and laugh like I said something funny," I said. Steve looked confused but when he saw the agent getting closer he took the hint and did as I said. Even after the agent walked by, Steve kept his arm around me but I didn't really mind. I've had a crush on him since our first mission together as a part of the Avengers: when Loki attacked New York. We made it to an escalator and as we were going down, another agent was heading up. I turned to face Steve and I grabbed his face and kissed him. I was about to pull away but Steve pulled me closer into him and deepened the kiss. We hesitantly pulled away so that we could step off the escalator and I felt my cheeks heat up. "What was that for?" Steve asked, smiling down at me. "PDA makes people uncomfortable so I figured that if I kissed you then the agent coming up the escalator would look away and not recognize us..." I said, feeling embarrassed. "Oh," Steve's face fell at what I said. As we walked towards a truck for us to "borrow" to get to New Jersey I heard him mumble under his breath, "I thought it was because you liked me..." "I do like you Steve," I told him shyly. He looked down at me in surprise when he realized that I heard him but he began to smile when what I said sunk in. "Well in that case, would you be my girlfriend?" He asked as his cheeks began to turn pink. I just gave him a peck on his lips and replied, "I'd love to." *End Flashback* I smiled at the memory as we began to near the top of the mountain on Vormir. "What are you smiling at (n/n)?" Steve asked, looking at me lovingly. "I was just thinking about the first time we kissed," I told him as I grabbed his hand in my small one. Steve's smile grew at this and he stopped to give me a long and passionate kiss. "I love you (y/n)," he said as he stroked my cheek. "I love you too Steve. Now c'mon let's go, we're nearly there." As we continued walking up the mountain, hand-in-hand I felt him playing with the ring that he gave me. *Flashback* It's been two years since the snap happened and have the population in the galaxy crumbled to dust. We were all grieving for the loss of our friends and for our defeat when Thanos told us he destroyed the stones. Steve was taking it hard since he lost two of his best friends and he felt as if it was his fault. I kept trying to assure him that it wasn't but he just kept insisting that it was. After a while, Steve began going to support groups and it helped him slightly. He no longer blamed himself for what happened but he still missed his friends nonetheless. Steve finally was able to start living his life once again and tried being happier. He'd always take me out on dates and like Tony, he was finally able to come to terms with what happened and that he just has to make the most out of his life. Tonight we were going out for a walk around New York and soon enough we found ourselves in Central Park. We were talking about all the things we missed about the others and all the fun times we had so that they'd always live on in our hearts and minds. Suddenly, as we were walking near a pond, Steve stopped us. "(Y/n). I just wanna say how much I love you so much. You were always there for me during my darkest times and helped me through all my rough patches. Despite our losses, you try to stay optimistic and live the best life you can for our friends. You always know how to make me laugh and smile and I love how kind you are. At first I thought that I loved Peggy Carter but I didn't know what true love was until I met you. We came across death too many times and it's been proven many times that life is short and you can die any day. I don't want to live with regrets which is why I'm asking you," he got down on one knee and I covered my mouth in surprise. "Will you (y/n) (y/l/n) marry me?" "YES YES OF COURSE!" I said in excitement as he put the ring on my finger and when he stood up I kissed him hard, pouring all the love I could into it. A few months later we were happily wed and a year after we had a daughter named Seraphina. *End Flashback* We finally reached the top of the mountain and started to walk through an archway when we were stopped by a floating figure. "What is it you want?" the figure asked. "We need the soul stone," Steve answered bravely as he stepped in front of me to protect me. The figure floated forward so that we can see his face and Steve tensed. It was Red Skull, Steve's enemy back in WWII. "In order to get the soul stone, it requires a sacrifice," Red Skull informed us, not acknowledging the fact that he knew Steve. "What kind of sacrifice?" I questioned. "A sacrifice of someone you love the most." "No! You're lying!" Steve yelled, and he began to back up. "I don't think he is, Steve. It makes sense...That's why its called the soul stone isn't? A soul for a soul?" I said gently grabbing his shoulder. Steve vigorously shook his head no. "No. No! There must be some other way," he said turning to face me. "It's the only way to get our friends back Stevie," I told him, using the nickname I gave him to lighten the mood. "Let me do it Steve..." "NO!" "It's okay," I caressed his cheek before I continued, "You'll have Bucky and Sam to be here for you. It's okay..." "No! I'm not going to lose you too!" He cried and he hugged me as tightly as he could, refusing to let go. "There has to be another way," he mumbled into my hair. "I'm sorry Steve. Know I love you," And with that I pushed him away and swept his feet out from under him before I took off towards the edge of the cliff. Before I could leap into the air I was tackled to the ground. "No, I'm sorry (y/n). I can't let the love of my life die if I can do anything to stop it," and he got up but he barely took two steps when I yanked him back and took a flying leap off the cliff. I couldn't let Steve die. Our daughter needed him since she was a daddy's girl. If he died, I don't think I could bare looking at her without being reminded of the man I loved. My daughter and my husband means everything to me and I would do whatever I have to to make sure they're safe. As I began to fall I felt something grab my hand and my body slammed into the side of the mountain. When I looked up I saw Steve hanging from the ledge with a strong grip on me. "Stevie, you need to let go..." I said as tears built up in my eyes. "I'm never letting go of you (y/n). Please... I need you," he cried as tears began to cascade down his handsome face. "I'm doing this for you and for Seraphina. When all this is done, you'll have our daughter and your two best friends to take care of you. I will always be with you Stevie," I said, trying to free myself from his grasp but he refused to let go. "Please (y/n). Don't do this," Steve begged. "The day we got married I took an oath that I'll be there for you 'for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer in sickness and health until death did us part,'" I recited our vows. "Even after death I will always be there for you." Steve began to cry even harder. "I love you so much Steve. You were the best thing that happened to me. Tell Sera that mommy loves her okay?" He just nodded. Since he was holing onto my right hand, I lifted my left hand up to slip my ring off and I placed it in a pocket on the side of his suit. "Goodbye..." I whispered and with that I wriggled my hand free from Steve's grip and let gravity do it's work. All I heard was Steve's yells as I fell and in an instant darkness surrounded me. *Steve's POV* I watched as (y/n) placed her wedding ring in my pocket and whispered, "Goodbye..." Before I could tell her that I love her she freed herself from my grasp and I yelled as I watched the love of my life plummet to her death. I closed my eyes as my body began to rack with sobs but when I opened them again I found myself standing and surrounded by water. When I looked what was in my closed fist I found the soul stone laying there. I clenched my fist shut, determined not to let (y/n)'s sacrifice be wasted. We will bring everyone back and make sure we will forever remember her what what's she's done.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #chris evans #avengers #avengers endgame #chris evans x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine

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screamin-abt-haikyuu · 3 years

Text

Asahi accidentally tells you his feelings in front of the entire team (Part 1)

The resident gentle giant of Karasuno accidentally blurts out his feelings for Y/N in front of his team but Y/N does not realize it. How will this mess play out?

Asahi x gn! reader || sfw Genre: A mix of fluff and comedy

You and Asahi have been going out for about 4 months now and things have been going extremely well. He is the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful, most caring person you have ever known and your heart just melts into a puddle every time he smiles at you. He is just so loving and affectionate and perfect and even though you are still in high school, you already know in your heart that he is the one for you.

You have been wanting to say the L-word to him for a while now but you are afraid that it will scare him off because it is too soon for him or, even worse, he will say the words back to you just so you don’t feel bad but won’t actually mean them. I mean, it took the boy almost a year of friendship to warm up to you and find the courage to ask you out and even after 4 months of being together, he still gets nervous and flustered around you (He still tends to knock something over every time you hold his hand in public. Or at home. He also may or may not have walked head-on into trees and lampposts because he was too flustered to notice where he was going. How is he still functioning? Someone save his soul). It has gotten a LOT better since the first time you went out, though. So, you tell yourself that it has only been 4 months and you have to stay quiet and patient. After all, you are in this for the long run and you are willing to give your sweet boyfriend as much time as he needs to get comfortable around you.

School is over for the day and you have plans to go watch a movie with your friends. Asahi can’t come with you because he has volleyball practice. However, you two have planned a date night later in the evening. You were excited to check out this cutesy new café that recently opened up in town and Asahi suggested going there for your next date night.

As you are packing up your books, you realize that Asahi has left his hairband at his desk in his hurry to rush to the gym. Noya had, as usual, come screaming like a banshee into the classroom and made Asahi jump so high out of his seat that he could have spiked a ball onto the other side of the court. If this was a Tom and Jerry cartoon, mans would have shot straight through the roof.

Flustered as he was, he had given you a quick kiss on the cheek and stammered a million apologies before running after the Libero. You finish packing and pick up the hairband to give it to him on your way out.

You tell your friends you will be right back after giving Asahi his hairband and they shout after you with a warning that you all need to get to the cinema asap or you will miss the beginning of the movie. “Don’t worry, I won’t take long. You guys go on ahead and save a seat for me. I’ll pay you as soon as I get there,” you shout back as you run towards the club room. You assume the boys would still be changing as it has barely been a few minutes since Asahi left.

You reach the club room and you can hear voices coming from inside. You knock on the door.

“It’s me, y/n”

Asahi was rummaging through his bag, desperately looking for his hairband when he heard your voice. He stops and looks towards the door. He is a little surprised and worried for he knew you had to rush to the cinema as soon as you were done packing. Was something wrong?

“Oh, hey y/n! Come in. We’re almost all done here,” Suga calls out to you.

You open the door slowly to see the Karasuno VBC team almost all ready in their jerseys. They all say hi and wave at you as you enter the room. Noya and Tanaka have very mischievous and teasing smiles on their faces as they look back and forth from you and Asahi. You smile and wave back at everyone.

“Hey guys, I just came by to return Asahi his hairband.”

A look of relief washes over Asahi’s face as you quickly make your way towards him at the back of the room with his hairband in your hand. However, that relief is only for an instant as his face turns a little pink the next second.

“Hey, Y/N! T-thanks but you did not have to come all this way to return this. You could have given it to me tonight at the café!”

“Yeah, true, but I knew you’d be uncomfortable practicing with your hair all in your face so I thought I’d give it to you now.”

“B-but what about your movie?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I asked the others to go on ahead and save a seat for me.”

Asahi’s face is a deep pink now as you hand him his hairband and smile at him. As he smiles and thanks you, he cannot help but think how thoughtful and caring you are towards him. You pay attention to even the littlest things about him and it always makes his heart swell up with adoration and gratitude.

“Sorry, I cannot stay longer. Gotta rush!!” You give him a quick peck on his cheek (man’s face is fully red now) before turning and starting to run towards the door.

“Bye, guys! Have fun at practice! Bye, Asahi! See you at night.” You shout as you are almost at the door.

What Asahi wanted to say:

“Bye, see you!”

What he actually said:

“Y-yeah. Bye, love you!”

By the time he finished his sentence, you were already out the door.

The entire Karasuno VBC at that moment:

And poor Asahi after he realized what he just said:

Part 2 is up!

Hope you enjoyed reading this!!

Likes, reblogs and follows are very much appreciated.

I hope this came out as funny as it did in my head and I managed to at least bring a smile on your faces. I really, really enjoyed writing this and any feedback would be welcome.

Pls forgive any grammatical/tense mistakes. I’m not used to writing in the present tense but felt it was right for this post. I might have slipped up a lil in b/w tho.

This is my first time writing fics (or is it an HC I have no idea what the difference is sorry someone help I’m v new to tumblr and the writing space)

Buy me a Kofi! <3

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axis-was-killed · 2 years

Text

Well I Need New Hobbies That’s One Thing For Certain

This fic will be posted on ao3 and on tumblr.

(ao3: mic_is_dead tumblr: mic-is-dead)

Song used: Knee deep at ATP- Lovejoy (will link)

“And every sentence that I spoke

Began and ended in ellip…sis…”

Marinette stared at the happy couple. Adrien and Kagami. She felt… well Marinette honestly didn't know how or what she felt honestly. She helped set them up as Ladybug after all.

She had helped Adrien set up a date, a location, everything. She had thought he was finally going to ask her out. She genuinely did, but as the months went by, he never asked her out. Instead he showed up with Kagami.

She should be happy for them! Really… she should… a-and she tried! Really, she did. But it was just so goddamn hard to be happy for them. She knew she could no longer pursue Adrien. He was Kagami’s, and Kagami was his.

“Each of eight fingers gripping what he wrote,

clung on tight...ly… like parentheses

And for each correctly used apostrophe

I could feel my heart sink inside my chest in front of me”

She looked over their texts. Her and Adrien’s texts. Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough? Maybe she wasn’t up to his standards? She would never know. Her chance was gone. She looked over the texts she sent. Her grammar, it seems, was perfect. The more Marinette read the more her heart just sank. She remembered her thoughts. She had believed she was making progress! She thought Adrien was starting to accept that he could be with her! But no, it was all for nothing.

“So, maybe the lining of a winters coat

Mightn’t be the best place to hide a summers secret

You said every photo that you told that festival

Got lost in your camera in an insurance scam”

Hadn’t he told her he wasn’t ready..? Didn’t he ask her to wait for him..? Yeah… he did. It’s why she had turned down Luka. Because she believed Adrien when he said he’d come to her when he was ready. Turns out she put her faith in Adrien too soon.

“And though underexposed, I can see from the quality

His K Records T-shirt, you’re holding his hand

And I know he took you to the beach,

I can tell from how you bite on your cheek

Every time the sand falls from your insoles”

Marinette saw their Instagram posts. She saw the way Kagami held his hand. She saw when Adrien took Kagami to the beach for their first date. The date she had planned for Adrien and Marinette. Definitely not for Adrien and Kagami. Then again, their first sort of date was at the beach as well. They were both aware of Marinette's feelings. He knew. HE FUCKING KNEW! HE WAS AWARE, THAT SHE, MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG, WOULD FUCKING SEE THE INSTAGRAM POSTS!

...had he just been toying with her..?

“And when our eyes meet,

All I can read is “You’re the B-side~“”

Marinette was done. She was over it. She finally figured it out. Marinette was the side hoe. And she was done being it. So she applied for a scholarship overseas, in a place called Gotham City, New Jersey, also known as crime capital. She was going to study fashion, and she’d finally get away from this shitshow that is Paris. Marinette, well, Ladybug would still travel back for Akumas, but Marinette? No more. She no longer wants to be affiliated with it.

(She’ll still visit her parents and grandparents though. And Chloe. And Luka. And- you know what? You get it. She’ll still visit her actual friends.)

And so she moved.

“I said “it’s not what you like, it’s what you like as a person”

Well I need new hobbies that’s one thing for certain”

She started school at Gotham academy on a chilly, August morning. She had stopped being late, as she now woke up at around 5 am to meditate, and since school didn’t start until 7:30 am, she had plenty of time to get ready.

As Marinette walked up the school's steps, she couldn’t help but wonder, will I finally find my place? Lost in her thoughts, Marinette didn’t notice it, but she had bumped into someone, almost causing her to fall. The man, well more like the boy, caught her though. And, in classic Marinette fashion, she began to ramble.

“Mon Dieu, I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going because I got lost in thought and I know I should’ve been paying attention but I wasn’t I am so so sorry I-” she stopped to take a breath, finally composing herself. “Are you ok? Are you hurt? Is there anything that I can do to make up for inconveniencing you?”

Finally looking up, Marinette saw the face of the person she had bumped into. She had done her research on people she should look out for. And, just on the top of her (civilian) list, was Damian Wayne. Just her luck.

All he ended up doing, however, was look at her and ask a simple question; “Are you new here?” When Marinette nodded, he spoke again. “Well that explains it. Just try not to bump into me again. Oh, and yes, I am fine. I am not injured what-so-ever. Have a good day.”

And with that, he left. Unbeknownst to Marinette, many students had seen the whole exchange. He really has changed, hasn’t he? Was the single thought running through every student's mind.

-time skip to about 4 months later woo :D-

Since Damian and Marinette shared a few classes, and one required them to do a year long group project, (which they were paired together for. Not their choice, blame the teacher) they decided to at least get acquainted with each other (much to Damians dismay). The more time they spent, the closer they got, however, much to Marinette's surprise.

At some point, Marinette ended up catching feelings for Damian. She wouldn’t tell him though. He was her first friend she made in Gotham that was around her age, as she didn’t think that her 20 something year old neighbor would count.

One fateful night, however, Marinette stood on the roof of her apartment building. It was late at night, maybe 10, 11? She wasn’t sure. Time was a tricky thing, especially when Marinette was alone in her thoughts.

Marinette wasn’t expecting anyone. It made sense, as it was late at night, and no Gothamite would be stupid enough to be out- especially not alone. But there he was. Damian Wayne in all his glory. Just stood there, watching helplessly, as his friend, his very dear friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, fell from the edge of the roof.

“It’s not what you like, it’s what you like as a person”

Well I need new hobbies that’s one thing for certain”

A/N: if someone by the username of @battle-of-olympus-insta reply’s to you, don’t worry, that’s me but on my other account. Tumblr won’t let me reply on this account for some reason. Probably cause I’m mobile. Dunno

Chapter two out now :D click here

#maribat #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat damian wayne #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #daminette #maribat adrian agreste #Spotify

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6: I’m Willing

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[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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“Keikei! Ko-chan stole my dwink!” Kia tells Akaashi. Bokuto sticks his tongue out at Kia and the former setter glares at him. He pouts and gives the yogurt drink back to Kia.

“You got me this time...” Bokuto huffs, pretending to be upset. He continues to play with Kia while Akaashi helps you with the dishes.

Sakusa is standing at the hallway, staring at his living room in horror. He regrets telling Hinata and Bokuto that their friends are coming over. He should have known that those airheads would no doubt join. Worse, they tagged Atsumu along with them, because why not? The more the merrier, right? Inviting Kenma and Akaashi was out of courtesy, but his teammates are here out of boredom.

All he wanted was a peaceful dinner with you and the two quiet former setters. But his teammates really said no. “My house...” Sakusa pouts, looking at the mess that has been made in the kitchen. He sees you washing the dishes with Akaashi, relief washing over him for a moment.

“Go on. Help her,” Kenma suddenly speaks beside him. Sakusa’s hand clutches on his chest as the curly haired boy is shocked. “Just go before they finish.”

So he does. He goes to you. Akaashi leaves you as he sees Sakusa approaching. You don’t even notice that it is already him beside you and not your cousin. When you do realize though...

It’s awkward.

Very awkward.

The tension between the two of you is undeniably suffocating. The other five boys in the room, staring at the two of you scandalously, aren’t helping at all. You make eye contact with Kenma and he smiles at you teasingly. You glare at him and chuckles silently.

“What are you looking at?” Kia, confused, asks the five boys. She also looks at you and Kiyoomi but she doesn’t see anything interesting. The two of you are just washing dishes. “Let’s play!”

“What do you wanna play?” Akaashi asks her and the little girl scans her eyes through the room. The volleyball on the shelf catches her eye so she points at it. “Volleyball?”

“Yeah! Let’s play volleyball!” Hinata cheers and takes the ball from the shelf. Sakusa sighs and tells them that their is a net at the backyard. The five boys go outside with, leaving you and Kia behind.

“You should join them. There aren’t much dishes left anyways,” you tell him but he continues to wash the dishes with you. You keep quiet and do the dishes fast. You place the last plate on the rack and dry your hands.

“It’s time for Kia to wash,” he says, looking at the wall clock. You know of his crazy memory so you aren’t surprised that he remembers. He goes out to the backyard so you follow behind him, unfamiliar with the house. You note to yourself to have a tour when he’s not around.

You arrive at the backyard and there is a volleyball net in the middle. Of course, there is. On the right is a small green house and on your right, there are flowers? When did Kiyoomi get into flowers?

“Mama!” Kia runs to you, sweaty and panting. Her cheeks are flushed red and her bangs are sticking to her forever. “Can I play for a longer time?”

“5 more minutes,” you tell her and she screams in joy.

“Join us, Kyo! I wanna see you jump!” She runs around Kiyoomi excitedly before grabbing his hand and leading him to the little court. “Keikei! Kenken! Kyo can jump really high, too!”

“Of course he does! He was one of the top players of Japan when we were in high school!” Hinata brags all knowingly.

“How about Mu-chan?” Kia points at Atsumu, not paying attention to what Hinata said. Sakusa bites his inner cheek, stopping himself from hitting the blonde setter.

“He was the best setter in high school!” Bokuto does a thumbs up and Akaashi gives him a look of betrayal. “You were good, too, Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san... after all we’ve been through,” Akaashi dramatically says, reenacting Bokuto’s emo mode.

“Looks very familiar,” Kenma chuckles. Hinata laughs along with him.

They continue to play, tossing and passing only since Kia is there. You sit at the bench where they placed their phones, wallets, and watches. Steal it and run girl. You watch them play and remember high school. You used to watch them in the bleachers, and they were wearing different jerseys back then. They’re all different people from they were in high school, but something with them playing volleyball just sparks a little happiness in you. Maybe familiarity doesn’t change.

Your eyes land on Sakusa and your heart beats faster. This is like high school all over again. You used to watch him and Komori play like this in their backyard. Who would have thought he’d have more friends he’d be comfortable playing casually with? Maybe some things changed for the better.

“Sakusa looks stunning, doesn’t he?” You don’t notice Atsumu sitting beside you. You clear your throat, not giving him a response. He chuckles, “I honestly thought Sakusa was the type not to fall in love and die old alone. But seeing you in person, I think I understand why he didn’t end up like that.”

“Thank you?” you respond unsure.

“So what was Sakusa like as a boyfriend?” He asks. You raise an eyebrow at him and he just shrugs.

“You’re asking like you’re the obsessed and jealous new girlfriend,” you rebutted.

“I might be.” You laugh at his response and look down to you feet.

You wonder about his question and all you can do is smile. “He was the perfect boyfriend. Not the one with the best social and communication skills, but he was the best for me.” Atsumu smiles due to your response.

Maybe love doesn’t change.

At the corner of Sakusa’s eyes, he can see you and Atsumu talking and laughing together. Kenma notices this so nudges Akaashi. “Do something or (y/n) might become single for the rest of her life.”

“Hey, Kenma and I bought beer before coming here. Do you wanna drink?” Akaashi asks Sakusa. The spiker can only nod, unable to say no to Kenma and Akaashi. He has developed great respect towards them for being there with you all the way. They’re good friends to you, he sees them as friends, too.

You hear Akaashi’s words so you call Kia, “Kia! Time to wash!” The toddler comes running to you. The two of you enter the house, directing to the room you decided to share with your daughter.

The boys settle at the lanai, calming down from playing. Kenma takes the cans of beers out of his trunk and brings it to them. He distributes the cans and sits on the floor like the other guys. Akaashi and Kenma stare at Sakusa, getting ready to interrogate him.

“You still have feelings for her, don’t you?” Akaashi speaks first, and Atsumu whips his head to his direction. He didn’t think Akaashi would be the blunt type of person.

“I do,” Sakusa responds nonchalantly. The rooms becomes awkward again. Even the noisy Bokuto, Hinata and Atsumu couldn’t do anything. The other three’s silence is too loud. Luckily, you and Kia arrive.

“I’m going to sleep now!” Kia announces, running to Akaashi first. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, then goes to Kenma after. She kisses his cheek, too. Bokuto asks for one too, but Kia shakes her head. Bokuto pouts and she gives in. She kisses his cheek and goes to Hinata next. He greets Atsumu good night, kissing him like the other boys.

Kia stops in front of Kiyoomi. She reaches her hand for his cheeks and he lowers his head so she can. She places a kiss on his forehead before running back to you. You smile at the sight, your heart melting at how cute they look.

“He wants a kiss from you, too,” Kenma tells you and you roll his eyes at him. Kia runs back to you, waving good night to them. When you are out of sight, they continue to drink in silence. Finally, Sakusa speaks again.

“I may not have been there from the start, and have been an asshole halfway, but I’m actually willing to try. I’m willing to be Kia’s dad if it means having (y/n) back.”

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Facts:

Akaashi went with you to Osaka because he had to remind Bokuto about his tax.

Kenma was just bored so he went with you.

It was Hinata who invited Atsumu

Sakusa was not supposed to let them in but he couldn’t act rude around Kenma and Akaashi. He’s afraid that they’ll see him in a bad way.

Sakusa only let Atsumu in because he brought Osamu’s onigiri.

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Note: thank you for all the support! i love seeing all your replies. i just couldn’t figure out how to reply back huhuhuhu hopefully, i get to understand tumblr better soon hahahaha

Taglist: @elianetsantana aoi-turtle ptv-hades aquzairus a-applepi justoneofthefangirls arianna-r13 morenabambinii chaelysian loser-keiji mxngy ne-kuroo n1fangirlsblog d-efend missalicebaskerville marvelousbakugou agaashesmilktea bonkyandloki kimi09 gyumimir

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu series #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa smau #haikyuu scenarios #sakusa scenarios #sakusa imagines

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cygnetofthesea · 3 years

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The Rest of Forever: Elite Fanfiction

This story is dedicated to the wonderful ladies I met through the tumblr Elite chat. You guys are so lovely and have made the experience all the better. I hope this story is a nice reminder of who Guznadia is at heart. <3

He's warm and content, oh so utterly at peace.

It was an unfamiliar sensation and for a moment he was confused, wondering if he had woken up into another dream. But feeling the heat of her body tucked tightly against him, Guzman knows that by some miracle, this was his reality.

His heart fills with this quiet elation, smiling sleepily while pulling Nadia even closer against him, her back pressing against him. He nuzzles against the loose curls until his lips touch the soft skin of her neck. He inhales deeply and is filled with that familiar lavender scent.

He remembers when he first walked into her parents' fruit shop and was hit with a gust of lavender. He smelled it every time he visited and every time he was around Nadia. He had finally asked her about it one day as he held her in his arms. He was still pining and waiting for her to take their friendship to the next level but he reveled in her touch as always, tucking his face into her neck.

"You smell so good. You always smell so good," he said, his voice coming out in a low rasp. He felt her shiver against him, her arms tightening just slightly. "What is it?"

She started to pull away and his grip around her waist tightened to let her know he wasn't ready to let go yet. She complied and simply pulled her head back to look at him with an amused smile.

"It's lavender. When my parents first opened up the shop they were having problems with insects buzzing around the fruits so I went out and planted a bunch of lavenders around the shop and house. They keep the insects away, protecting the fruits."

He beamed down at her, a flash of little Nadia kneeling on the ground, hands muddy with soil as she planted flowers. "How old were you?"

She scrunched her nose thoughtfully. "Hmmm, about six, I think? I was already getting myself dirty, playing outside so I had no problems planting flowers. I felt like they were my children," she admitted with a blush.

Oh god, he thought, watching her cheeks turn a tantalizing rosy color. He wanted to feel the heat beneath her cheek, he wanted to feel it on his skin. His heart raced and before he could stop himself, he let his fingers brush gently, tentatively, against her heat. He wanted to close his eyes and bask in her touch but he was riveted by her dark eyes looking at him. They were so intense, piercing his soul and he felt so exposed to her. He knew what she was seeing, his heart laid out for hers to take, but it didn't make him afraid. He felt powerful every time she looked at him because it was her gaze that was on him. Somehow, some way, he was able to draw her attention to him enough to keep her eyes on him. Somehow this wonderful, beautiful, special girl was sparing her time and energy for him of all people.

He had so desperately wanted to kiss her then, his lips tingling. He had wanted to simultaneously sip on her languidly and devour her hungrily. That was what she did to him. She calmed him like the sun peeking out from behind stormy clouds and made his blood heat like the storm itself.

He had never felt like this in his entire life and he was addicted. He didn’t need drugs when he had Nadia.

Even now as he gripped her sleeping body against him, slowly kissed up her neck, he couldn't believe she was here. He couldn’t believe she was his as much as he was hers

He feels her shift, waking up at last. "Good morning," he mumbles against her.

He sees her smile, her eyes slowly opening to peer over at him. She looks at him sleepily, her hands finding his own resting on her stomach.

"Good morning."

Her voice is rough from sleep and it pulls at his heart. For the umpteenth time, he thinks God, she's so beautiful.

He leans over her as she shifts around to face him and kisses her. He's soft at first, kissing her top lip, then her bottom lip before pulling it with his teeth. He can't help but nibble on the soft fullness, letting himself get lost in the reality that they really are together. Reunited and this time, for good.

"Are you really here?" he asks quietly in between kisses.

She melts against the sheets, pulling him closer atop her. "I should be asking you that," she sighs. "I can't believe you're finally here. With me. In New York."

She kisses him passionately then as though the words woke her up from her own dream. He spreads his hands wide against her bare skin, pressing against the softness.

"Nadia," he breathes, sliding his lips against her jaw, down her neck, pulling her skin as he goes.

Her fingers thread through his short hair as she arches her neck back under his ardent attention. He lifts her higher up on the bed, the headboard knocking against the wall with the movement.

"Guzman—"

A loud bang on the wall pulls them from their bubble and Lu's voice interrupts them, "Oi! I had to listen to you last night and sleep with headphones on, I'm not putting up with it for breakfast."

Guzman knocks on the wall once. "You can always go out for breakfast, you know," he scolds.

Lu shouts back a retort he couldn’t understand nor cared to.

Nadia shrinks further into the bed in embarrassment even though her door was firmly closed and locked. Guzman's ire at the disruption is eclipsed by the affection that washes over him as he looks down at her. She had covered her face shyly but he could see a hint of her smile.

He settles over her comfortably, taking care not to crush her and resting his elbows on either side of her. His hands travel up her forearm to her hands, pulling them from her face and before he can protest, he attacks her face with kisses.

"Guzman," Nadia squeals, trying to dodge his lips as a peel of laughter escapes her.

She twists her body to move her head out of reach but Guzman switches to kissing her neck and shoulders while tickling her sides. Nadia hikes her leg up to wrap around his hip and uses it to leverage herself on top of him. In a surprising twist, Nadia flips Guzman on his back and holds his wrists prisoner.

He looks at her in astonishment, out of breath, before a slow grin spreads across his face. "Well, I can't complain about this turn of events. I don't mind being at your mercy."

He swallows as Nadia leans closer to brush her nose against his. "We'll be at Lu's mercy if we don't behave."

His face crumples in displeasure at that. "That's not where I was hoping this was going."

Nadia shakes her head with a giggle, her soft curls brushing against him and he can't help leaning into them, enjoying their soft brushes against his skin. She releases his wrists to rest firmly over him and his hands immediately reach for her, gliding them softly up and down her back.

“I know, my impatient boy, but as long as I'm— we're —living with Lu, we should be mindful of our roommate, no?"

"Ugh, we really need our own place."

Nadia smiles softly at that, caressing his cheek. "That sounds lovely, but let's wait a little bit. I don't want to leave Lu alone when we haven't even been here a whole year."

"Lu will be fine," he replies. "She's pretty resourceful."

"I know that, but I think she's come to appreciate my presence, maybe even needs it," Nadia frowns. "You know she puts on a good brave face, but underneath it all she's still burdened by what happened. She's still scared of being on her own in this brand new place."

Guzman brushes a lock of Nadia's hair behind her ear, his demeanor softening as he looks at her. He knew she was right and even though he wanted nothing more than to have a home with just Nadia, he wasn't going to take this for granted. If being with Nadia, living with her, and starting a life with her at long last meant Lu was going to be a fixture in their lives for a little while, he'd go along with it happily.

"You're right," he agrees softly. "And you’re possibly too kind and thoughtful than anyone deserves. Especially Lu."

Nadia sits up, pulling Guzman up with her. "Maybe you're right," she shrugs, putting on a maxi dress as Guzman woefully looks on. Much as he wants to stay in bed with Nadia, he knows they have to face the day at some point. "But, it's the right thing to do. And against my better judgement, I feel for her."

Guzman walks over to her, slipping on his boxer briefs as he goes. Instinctively, he zips up her dress before she can ask and pulls her close. She smiles in thanks, looking up at him.

"I love you," he says. "So much."

She leans up to kiss his nose. "I love you."

"So much?"

She giggles, nodding. "So much."

His body relaxes, his heart feeling so full he thinks it just might burst. I love you, I love you, I love you… Every heartbeat is for her and he feels as though he'll never tire of telling her just how much he loves her.

"Now why don't we make the most of this beautiful day together?" she says with excitement, her eyes lighting up. "What do you want to do first? We can pick up breakfast from Pret A Manger and take it to Riverside Park. I go there all the time and I've been dying to show you. It's so beautiful and there's a gorgeous view of the water. And then we can take Citibikes around the area or—oh! We can take the NJ Transit and go to New Jersey if you like." She bites her lower lip thoughtfully and he wants to pull it between his teeth instead but she continues to ramble excitedly. "Actually maybe we'll do the New Jersey trip another time, you haven't even seen New York yet. Maybe we can take the bikes down to Battery Park unless you want to try out the trains—"

He could listen to her excited chatter all day but he was concerned she was going to run out of oxygen soon so he leans in and kisses her just long enough to stun her into silence. He pulls away, smiling in amusement.

"Nadia, it doesn’t matter what we do. We could do it all or none of it today because the important thing is we're here. Together. You and me, we have the rest of our lives to do it all."

Nadia looks up at him, her eyes wide and sparkling. She reaches up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and again, he gets that lovely whiff of lavender from her. He leans into her to inhale more of it, letting it wash over him. Home.

"You're right," she says. "You and me. We have the rest of forever together."

#Guznadia #Netflix Elite #guzman x nadia #Nadia x Guzman #Elite Fanfic #Guznadia Fanfic #cygnetofthesea writings #cygnetofthesea graphics #cygnetofthesea edits

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Text

REQUEST: Can I request Bokuto with a soft & short manager s/o and she always helps the team cheer bokuto up when hi is in emo mode and like a lot of fluff🥺👉👈

A/N: Tumblr is being a whore with their Keep Reading button, putting it on the ask and shit smh. So I apologize for the repost.

alate. | bokuto kōtarō

word count: 1776

warnings: none

(adj.) having wings; lifted up in flight

Official match protocols only allowed one manager on the court for each team. Fukurodani Academy’s Boys’ Volleyball team always had their lenient but reliable third year managers to get the job done. Third-years Yukie and Kaori had been your final salvation against the inevitable fate of having to care for the raucous boys alone. But today with some lucky fortune of theirs, they’d somehow coerced you into taking their place.

“...Will I experience any internal combustions by the end of the match?”

The three of you stood in a personal circle at the entrance to the gym. The three managers of Fukurodani, with your two seniors looming over you like two scheming birds of prey. They didn’t even have to ask why you were so worried; despite being a second-year, this was your first time to stand on the court with the team instead of panicking on your own on the sidelines. This time, you were in the game, up-close-and-personal.

“You’ll do fine~” Yukie grinned, raising her right hand in a lazy ‘OK’ gesture. “Besides, you’re a total expert when it comes to giving Bokuto a good knock in the head.”

If Bokuto’s vanity was a chronic disease, he’d need more than just a “good knock in the head” to be cured. But Yukie wasn’t wrong. Your praises, in comparison to the others’, had a quicker, more powerful effect on the ace. Though you weren’t sure if that skill of yours was more of a blessing than a curse...

“W-well, I’ll do my best,” you muttered, fiddling with the hem of your track jacket. Your seniors exchanged a look before smiling softly at you.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Kaori piped up as you lugged the bag full of empty bottles over your shoulder. “Can you act a bit bashful when you’re complimenting the captain?

“Why’s that, Kaori-san?”

“Bokuto thinks you look cute when you’re embarrassed.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

‘Cute’? What did that even mean? Did Bokuto always think people were ‘cute’ whenever they flash a single praise at him? Not that you remembered... What’s with that, you grumbled, angrily trying to get the concept into your skull.

Your eyes darted back to the court where—much to your distress—the other team just had to be painfully good at blocks. Now, you just hoped that the boys wouldn’t get too disgruntled.

The score was 12-15, with Torasaka Metropolitan High in the lead. Though Fukurodani had obtained their twelfth point with a lucky read on Torasaka’s setter dump, things were obstinately bleak for your team.

“I want to try it!” you heard Bokuto exclaim excitedly. From afar, you could already spot a few sullen scowls begin to form on his teammates’ faces. “Hey, ‘Kaashi, do you want to try that block with me?”

The setter sent you a pained expression enough for guilt to comically swallow you whole. Returning his attention to the ace who’s practically bouncing on his heels, Akaashi sighed. “Bokuto-san, let’s focus on our normal blocks first.”

A child! you thought incredulously as you watched the captain stick out his tongue at him. Though Bokuto was particularly a sight to behold when he’s in top form, just how confident could he be, trying something so risky in a middle of a tight match? Or was he just a complete and utter numbskull? You thought he was rather amazing for the juxtaposition... in a Bokuto fashion, of course.

As Washio prepared to serve, you watched the ace literally vibrate with eagerness of having such an “interesting enemy”. Whenever Bokuto got extremely fired up, it was your inevitable fate that you just couldn’t look away. The way his jersey hugged his hulking frame as he flexed his muscles in preparation to follow the path of the ball, it was nearly bewitching. If he had been like this his entire life, you were sure your heart wouldn’t take being with Bokuto for a mere second.

“It’s up!” Torasaka’s libero signaled, cleanly receiving Washio’s serve (much to the player’s frustration).

In your memory, Torasaka High wasn’t a much known threat until just recently. “Their new first years block like a fort,” you remembered what Coach Yamiji had said in the bus that morning. Despite far from being as crafty as Nohebi or as versatile as Nekoma, Tokyo teams were a force to be reckoned with.

What a terrifying sport, you thought to yourself for what seemed to be the fifth time this month.

“Left! Left!”

On the other side of the court, Sarukui, Bokuto and Akaashi scrambled to follow the ball’s trajectory. Though you were only a rookie in this entire volleyball thing, you were quick to notice that Bokuto’s footsteps were a bit smaller and slower than the first two...

Wait, is he planning to delay the timing of his block now?!

It was definitely a quick from the other side. It was evident, even to you. And when the two jumped to block the ball with their ace lagging behind, the ball had already streaked over him at a dangerous angle. Point Torasaka.

Landing on the pads of his feet, Akaashi’s expression shifted between “candidly annoyed” and “visibly concerned” as he watched the captain raise his head for his team to see.

“You’re kidding me...” Sarukui groaned under his breath. Behind him, the others followed promptly with their own reactions of disbelief.

His infamous salt-and-pepper hair deflating alongside his shoulders, Bokuto whined, loud enough for you to hear from the benches. “The hell... I thought I had that block mastered. Why’d they have to make it look so easy?”

Time-out! Akaashi turned to you and the coach a with pleading stare, hard enough for your supervising teacher to shoot upwards and signal the referee for their second break of the match.

Groaning, you stuffed your face in your hands, hoping that your senior managers in the audience were praying for your good health.

“What were you thinking?!” Coach Yamiji hissed, giving the sulking ace a well-deserved smack to the side of his head. Bokuto didn’t even flinch. “You could’ve—”

“Coach. Let me.”

Snapping his head in your direction, the old man grew pale when he heeded the dark aura that spewed from your body. Even the others, though they were only watching the entire event go down, was hyper-aware of the invisible, nightmarish fog that came with your frustration.

You’d always seemed so sweet and indulgent, never angry. Never. And yet Bokuto had finally gotten you to drop the tether that held your patience together.

Walking to Bokuto, you sent him a scowl so cold, he forgot how to blink. The rest of the team, the coach, your teacher and even Yukie and Kaori in the stands shivered from the sudden gust of frosty air that oozed from you. Some of the audience surprisingly turned their heads to watch the spectacle of the tiny Fukurodani manager who seemed like she was about to trample on their ace.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“Bokuto, you—!”

You froze. No. If you scolded him now, that only make matters worse. Bokuto didn’t fare well when he was scolded by Kaori or Yukie either. Besides, you were his manager, not his mother. But what else were you going to do?

Bokuto thinks you look cute when you’re embarrassed.

Swallowing a nagging lump in your throat, you recalled the words of your seniors. Embarrassed? How do you do embarrassed? Was that even a thing you could pull off manually? Taking in a deep breath, you tightened your fist before loosening them in front of your body. Something was better than nothing.

“B-Bokuto-senpai...?”

“Senpai?!” the others snapped towards you, jaws on the floor. Even Bokuto was stunned.

Eyeing his interested gaze, you continued, fidgeting bashfully, “Bokuto-senpai’s such a slob... If you just listened to the others... you’d be a lot cooler...”

Komi tugged at the back of Konoha’s jersey, whispering in the blonde one’s ear, “She’s pulling out the ‘Cute Tsundere’ card!”

Stupefied, the wing spiker muttered, “Bokuto’s actually taking the bait... Scary. L/N-san’s scary.”

And take the bait he did. You didn’t even realize how red you were with the way he was looking at you—and the shade was fully unintentional, much to your chagrin. But Bokuto’s sullen mood was far gone, replaced with the brighter interest of infatuation.

“A lot cooler...?” Bokuto savored your words in his tongue, before whipping out both his hands to grab at your shoulders. “Y-You think I’m cool?!”

You didn’t even have to pretend to be shy anymore. The close contact of his skin, the scent of his sweat mingled with the musky aroma of his cologne and the pinkish tint on his cheeks. It was too much, and you soon wondered if Bokuto had always seemed this charming to you.

“Y-you airhead! Of course I do,” you mumbled, lowering your sight to the floor. “You’re already really good at volleyball, but you do things like forcing yourself to do a block you can’t do just because you want attention and... and now everyone has to bear that burden.”

“Please go on a date with me.”

You flinched in his grasps. This was escalating much faster than you’d hoped it would. Unable to register what he had said, you asked him to repeat himself.

“The cute Y/N-chan thinks I’m cool. That’s like a dream come true, right? So if I become cool again, won’t you go on a date with me?”

How unbelievable. One second he almost reminded you of the small boy that lived below your apartment, and the next he was like some sort of phantom thief, ready to whisk you away from the confines of your castle and steal your heart. You smiled earnestly; Bokuto Koutarou really was a man of many wonders.

Slipping yourself away from his grip, you raised an index finger between his eyes. “If you win... I’ll consider it.”

Like a phoenix rising from its ashes, the ace lit up once more. Revived, renewed, and heart set on taking you out. While dragging Akaashi back onto the court, Bokuto made it a point that he was looking at you all the way. You giggled. What an interesting person.

From the stands, your gaze traced the motto of Fukurodani’s Volleyball Club. Pour all your soul into each ball. Bokuto played with passion, with his emotions and whenever the time was right, with his logic too. For a while, volleyball seemed like the last thing you’d want to spend your life doing. But seeing the ace’s blushing grin to you when they’d scored the final match point... it might not be as bad as you thought it’d be.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou imagine #bokuto koutarou scenario #sfw #bruh haikyuu writing #fukuroudani x reader

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lifesabe-ch · 4 years

Text

brat - spencer r.

summary: while out with the time, a comment from the group gets spencer thinking… and god, if he thought like this every time, you’d be in luck. Because your night just got a hell of a lot better.

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: smut!!! oral, male and female receiving, penetrative sex

a/n: this is the second time posting this. A couple people had some mean things to say the first time so… let’s try this again. when a word is in caps and bolded, it’s a scene change (Tumblr doesn’t have cuts anymore so kindly get off my dick about this)

“So let me get this straight…”

The others laughed as Morgan fumbled through his confusion, his gaze never once wavering from yours, “You don’t want to make sweet sweet love to me?”

His fake offense was obvious, but you’d have to praise him for his theatratics. Man sure knew how to put on a show.

“I’m sorry, you’re just not my type,” you sigh, playfully laying your hand over his.

“You can’t have two dominant people in one relationship, it’d never work,” Emily quips, glancing between the two of you with a smile.

“Truth. She needs someone more like… Reid.”

At this, the genius’ head perks up, taking note of the way the tips of your ears flushed.

“What?”

“I think you’d be the perfect sub for Y/N.”

You throw a balled up napkin at Garcia, glaring as she laughs off your attack.

“Penelope! Leave him alone.”

And she would’ve, you’re sure. But he’s no longer interested in being left alone.

“No, come on, now I want to know. What makes you say that?”

“Well, Y/N is obviously a dominant person. You’ve met her. And you’re… not. I just think it'd work. In the bedroom, you know?”

The others share a laugh as you groan, shaking your head, “I’m pretty sure he knows, no need to clarify.”

“I don’t know, I feel like she’s got a lot more underneath the surface.”

Your eyes snap over to Spencer, taking him. He’s staring at you now, eyes burning into you with a glint of… mischief? He was watching you, waiting for your reaction.

“Well, maybe my depth is surface level! Just a, a pond.”

“A pond, huh?”

“Or a puddle…”

“A puddle…”

“Stop repeating me!”

“Why should I?”

Morgan glances between the two of you, grinning, “I don’t know, Pen. Maybe he’s a brat.”

“I am not a brat!”

“That’s exactly something a brat would say.”

Spencer huffs and glances over at you, seemingly as ready to drop the conversation as you were.

“Whatever,” you shrug, “does anybody know if that restaurant near here burned down, or if it was just fake news?”

The team eagerly took to your distraction, arguing their own opinions on the matter and what they had heard, before the topic naturally shifted to something else.

All throughout the night, you noted the way Spencer was acting differently. Glancing at you more often. Touching you longer, and even when unnecessary. He was joking, he had to be.

Later on, as you excuse yourself from the group, you make your way over to the bar, quickly ordering another drink before glancing back over at your friends.

More specifically, Spencer.

You had liked him for a while, and by now you were certain that he knew about it. There was no way he couldn’t, with how much everyone brought it up. He never talked about it, though. Instead, he just ignored the entire thing. Which was answer enough for you.

“Well, here I am. What’re your other two wishes?”

Rolling your eyes, you glance over to the man who now stood besides you, hand instinctively covering the drink the bartender had brought over.

“Is that the best line you’ve got?”

“Do you like raisins?”

“What? I… yeah.”

“How do you feel about a date?”

You stare at him for a moment, thoroughly confused, “I… I guess? Why’re you asking me about—”

You cut yourself with off with a laugh, realization flooding through you. The man looks quite pleased as he watches you, an easy smile on his lips.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way. I’m Pete.”

You took a moment to look him over. His eyes were dark, his hair cut short. He had a sturdy build, but it wasn't overly obnoxious. His accent was thick with certain words. He was probably from Jersey. Or New York. Somewhere they couldn’t quite pronounce the “r”s. New England, maybe?

Admittedly, he was hot.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Pete. Where are you from?”

The two of you chat for quite a few more minutes, conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You were having such a good time, it almost didn’t seem real. You had even forgotten about Spencer. That was, until he made his way over to you.

By then, you and Pete had gravitated closer together, your hand on his arm as he spoke, the other holding up your chin.

“Hey, Y/N. Think it’s time we head home.”

You barely glance over at him, “I’ll be fine, you go ahead.”

“No, I’m not leaving you, you’re drunk.”

“I don't feel that drunk, Spencer. I haven’t even had a drink yet.”

“Ah, boyfriend.”

Your “no” comes at the same time as his “yes”, the other man’s sigh being ignored by you both.

“So now we’re dating?”

Raising his hands in surrender, you're suddenly aware that Pete has started to back away, “Seems complicated. I’ll let you two work this out. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

You don’t have time to respond to him, his retreating frame quickly dipping into the crowd of people in line. Turning back to face Spencer, you glare at him.

“I was about to get laid. Fuck you.”

“Oh you’d love to wouldn’t you.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me. You wanna fuck? I’m right here.” He moves closer to you and it’s unnatural to see Spencer, of all people, act like this.

“What is wrong with you?” You mutter, trying to push past him. He stands in front of you.

“I’m gonna make you regret having said that.”

“What?”

He takes your hand and pulls you with him back over to the table, quickly pulling his jacket off the chair and flashing the others a nonchalant smile.

“We’re going to head out, Y/N isn’t feeling too great, so I thought I’d take her home.”

His lie was so obvious, but the others only nodded, your confused expression apparently enough to make them believe him.

“Of course, hun. Get home safe, okay?”

“And take care of her, Spence.”

With a loose grip around your waist as he wound you through the crowd, the man leaned closer to your ear, a devilish smirk on his lips as he led you outside, “Oh, I will.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you retort, immediately engulfed by the feeling as his lips on yours before he turned to hail a cab.

“Trust me, you’re going to be feeling it too.”

THE cab ride from the bar to his place was short, both of your hands finding every inch of exposed skin as discreetly as possible, feverish kisses being shared at every chance granted. As soon as the two of you had made it inside, he was pushing you into the bedroom, slipping the tie from around his neck, eyes burning into yours.

The top buttons of his shirt were quickly undone, your hands joining him at the bottom so the two of you could meet somewhere in the middle.

After his shirt was pulled off, you reached for his pants, your fingers eagerly working on the belt buckle there. But just as soon as you had it undone, he had your hands pulled away, his tie coming up to tie them together.

“Get on the bed.”

His voice was even deeper than it usually was, his lips quickly finding their way to your neck after fastening the tie to the headboard.

He made quick work with his hands, roaming them lower on your waist, pace tantalizingly slow.

His fingers found their way to your underwear, eyes locked on yours as he ran them over the soaked fabric.

“All this for me?”

You nodded quickly, glancing between him and his hand.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. For you,” you breathed, moaning as his hand slipped past the fabric, his finger dipping into your wet core.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, thumb moving to rub against your clit.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips in response, a silent cry for more friction against him.

“Uh uh,” he tsked, free hand moving to hold down your thighs, “No moving.”

You don’t respond, instead stilling the movement of your body against him. He rewards you by slipping another finger inside you, his pace quickening.

You can barely think as he continues his motions, keeping your entire focus on staying still as he requested.

The room itself is filled with the sound of your moans and whines, your release inching closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever.”

His words are soft, but you hear them.

With the added stimulation of his hands against your breast, you reach your high, his name the only coherent thing spilling from your lips as you do so. Your only focus was on the way your body clenched around his fingers, back arching as he continued his assault on your senses throughout.

As your back finally landed back onto the bed, he pulled himself from you, a whine leaving your mouth as you watched him inspect his fingers, your juices dripping over them.

“Good girl,” he cooed, bringing his hand up to your mouth and watching as you sucked yourself off of his fingers.

His fingers pressed down against your tongue, reveling in the whimper that sounded.

“You look so pretty like this,” Spencer murmured, eyes flicking from your gaze down to your bare body, “All laid out, just for me.”

You nodded eagerly, speaking as he pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“Anything for you, sir.”

The laugh that spilled from his lips was intoxicating, the easy grin he wore enough to make your legs shake again.

“And the team had you pegged as the dominant one. Some profilers.”

A soft laugh left your lips, but before you could respond, Spencer’s were pressed to yours, tongue running against your bottom lip, awaiting entrance permission.

When he finally pulls away, he stands, pulling off the rest of his clothing, completely aware of your gaze running over his frame, willing yourself to commit this to memory.

He helps you sit up on the bed, positioning himself above you, his length just above your mouth.

You lean forward instinctively, abruptly reminded of the tie holding you back against the bed.

With a huff, you glance up at the amused man.

“Please,” you whine, bucking forward to take him again, but this time his movements allow you to, pushing closer to you and letting your mouth reach his length.

You swirl your tongue against him before closing your lips around his tip. Without the use of your hands, you were forced to let him buck into you at his own speed, only moving your head as far as he allowed you.

Instead, you varied your pressure against him, pressing your tongue hard and then soft again, using the sounds of his moans to guide your actions.

After a few moments of doing this, you could feel him twitching against your tongue. But he didn’t let you finish him off, instead pulling off of you with a moan, watching as you lick your own lips with a grin.

“Please,” you mutter, watching as he adjusted his position, aligning himself with your entrance, “Fuck me, Spencer. Please.”

Shifting to untie your wrists, he moved into you, inch by inch. The pace was painstakingly slow, but now that your hands were free, you wasted no time in moving them against him.

You scratched your nails down his back as he fully entered you, pulling out of you just as fast, but this time quickly slamming back in.

His first few thrusts were experimental, but soon enough he set his rhythm, pushing into you relentlessly.

As your whines grew, he began grinding your bodies further together, your hips bucking up against him.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling you up and closer to him as his lips found their way to your neck, sucking against your hot skin.

“I’m going to leave you all marked up,” he muttered, free hand reaching between you to rub circles against your clit.

“I’m going to leave you so spent that you won’t even be able to think about anybody else. You won’t even be able to look at anybody else, without thinking of me.”

You already weren’t able to do that, you think to yourself. Much less after this.

As he pulled out of you fully, he slammed back in, your scream of his name enough to spur him forward.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

He was now plunging into you faster, the force enough to push the headboard into the wall with each shove of his hips against you.

It was hard to breathe, to move, to feel anything besides his cock fully burying itself inside you.

As you came down from your second high, you called his name, the words barely leaving your mouth as more than a whisper. But he heard you, your own name leaving his lips soon after as he came inside you.

Finally finishing he collapses against you, his arms the only thing keeping him from crushing you completely, his lips pressing light kisses to your face.

As you feel his hot breath and sweaty body against yours, you’re hyper aware of your situation. The reality of what you had just done has hit you. You had slept with your coworker. The person you were partnered with on most cases.

Closing your eyes, you realized how monumentally you may have screwed things up. While you had feelings for Spencer, you didn’t know if he felt the same. And now, you feared, you wouldn’t ever. You would just forget about this hookup, move on, and never speak to each other again. And it scared you.

As he recaptured your lips with his, the kiss reassured all of the thoughts swirling around your head. It was different from the others, softer and filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever too.”

“I’m glad we finally did,” he responds, pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

Those were the last words he muttered to you before pulling out, getting up to grab a damp towel from the bathroom.

After cleaning the two of you up, he slid back in besides you.

“Thank God for Pete,” You joke.

“Say that again, I dare you,” he murmurs, face burrowing into the crook of your neck, breath hot.

“Thank. God. For. Pete.”

“Look who’s the brat now.”

The two of you share a laugh this time, bodies relaxed as you cuddle close together. Sleep takes hold of you both not long after, but you stay like that. Scared, even in slumber, that if you move your bubble would burst.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid smut #Spencer x you #Spencer reid x reader smut #Spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds imagine smut

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ladyeliot · 3 years

Photo

“Let's go home?”

Request: @mycosmicparadise - Hi there! I think your idea is great, cheer up. I wanted to make an request, and don't worry if it takes a while. I had in mind Chris Evans x female reader, with Dodger please and make it fluff. Everything else I leave to you. Thanks a lot!

Thank you very much! You are the first request and my first one-shot at Tumblr. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Chris Evans x FemReader

Word count: 1536

Notes: Fluff + Dodger / English is not my native language, sorry for the mistakes.

The sunset was near, the large windows of the room no longer allowed those warm rays to pass through that had disappeared just a few minutes ago. The sound that enveloped the atmosphere was concentrated in the non-stop tapping of the keys on the laptop, the last few days had been really exhausting. Last week you returned from a long week's holiday, which together with your move to New York had barely allowed you to keep up with the developments in your work, so you had a lot of work to do.

A small grunt from the chair caught your attention and made you look away from the computer screen for a few seconds, then smile as you continued to type and respond to emails. Your eyes focused on the small clock at the bottom of the computer window, which made you realise that the whole afternoon had passed without you even moving from your chair in front of the desk. You sighed and leaned back on the chair, thanking the change of position and being able to see through the shop as the street lamps were already lighting up the streets. You looked back at the chair to see that half-white, half-tan snout that was resting on a cushion.

"Don't look at me like that," you smile as he rests his face in his hands. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Dodger, realizing that he was paying attention to him, raised his head and with a small jump he went down to the ground. He seemed happy because he soon jumped over you to be caressed while expressing his emotion through some barking. It took you only a couple of minutes to get ready and go out into the street, the air crashed into your face, for even though it was the month of September the weather reported that the cold was approaching New York. Greenwich Village was a lively neighbourhood, the streets were busy at the time, and you had chosen to hide under a Red Sox cap that you had stolen from your beloved boyfriend. Dodger knew what the route was, since every afternoon you used to go for a walk along the Hudson River. Near where you lived there was a park that allowed you to escape from all the tumult of the big city, to find yourself in a moment of peace and tranquility.

You wouldn't know how long you were walking, but night was already falling on the big city. You both sat on a small wooden bench where you could look out over the other side of Jersey City. The lights produced a strange melancholy in you, however something distracted you from your own thoughts. Dodger began to bark and try to get off the leash when he saw a figure in the distance, somewhat blurred by the low light produced by the streetlights. You got up from the bench and turned to look at the person who was approaching, until you could discover who it was and a smile lit up your face.

"I knew I'd find you here," he said as he bent down to pet Dodger. "Where else would you be?"

You kept your smile on your face until Chris approached her to kiss your lips. It was a kiss full of tenderness, just like he used to give you after a day without seeing you.

"Did you miss me?" he moved only a few inches away from your face and stroked your cheek.

"Do you really want me to answer?” you bit your lower lip, while showing a little crooked smile.

"I see," he muttered, nodding to himself. "I guess not much, because I've been calling you on the phone and you didn't answer... Until I got home and realised that you had left it there.

Chris took the mobile phone out of his pocket, but the moment you reached for it, he waved it away again.

"I don't think you need it right now," whispered Chris as he placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

In a thousandth of a second your lips would merge in an intense and warm kiss again. The air that flooded New York City that night stopped for a moment around you, avoiding creating discomfort and breaking that moment. Chris slowly caressed the locks of your hair that fell on your shoulders while at the same time he held his other hand on your chin making that kiss unfinished. You couldn't help but draw a little smile as his beard took over the kiss itself, touching the corners of your mouth. At that very moment, a bark from the floor caught your attention, undoing the probably most romantic moment of the day you were living. You looked at Dodger and where he was looking at, just ten meters away from them there was a person leaning on the railing looking at the Hudson riverbed, but what inspired Dodger to bark was the fact that there was a Husky next to that person who seemed to have caught his full attention. Chris bent down to catch up with his dog and stroked him as he was being sucked by him, which he barely tried to avoid.

"We'd better go, we don't want Dodger to break any more hearts this afternoon," Chris stood up and took the strap from your hands, intertwined your fingers and placed a little kiss on your cheek. “What would you like to do for dinner tonight?”

"What did you have in mind for me?"

You put your other hand to the one you both had intertwined and looked up to contemplate with a wide smile Chris' face that was a few inches higher than yours.

"What did I have in mind to prepare for you," Chris repeated with a small laugh and nod at the end of the question. "Let me think..." he paused slightly as he bathed his lips with his tongue. "How about a plate of cool ranch doritos combined with avocado sauce?

"Very appetizing" you said with ironic certainty nodding, as your boyfriend began to laugh and deposited a kiss on your forehead that was at the height of his lips. "By the way, this afternoon I have been informed that I have to travel a week earlier to Scotland, there have been a number of problems due to the weather, and the merger between the companies has had to be brought forward".

"And when are you supposed to leave?" asked Chris in a calm tone of voice, but at the same time showing his discontent in his scowl.

"Next week," you barely let out a thread of voice with inner guilt. "But I'll only be gone a couple of weeks.”

"Oh, come on! That means that when you go home, I'll go to Atlanta" his voice contained a tone of heaviness, while showing a bit of desperation when it came to gestures. "And I wasn't going back to Atlanta until the end of the month.”

"I know and I'm sorry, I was hoping to spend time in New York with you at least until you started filming again, but it seems that these impediments have arisen," both were detained in the park by the river. Chris rested his back on the railing, while showing a gesture of regret on his face, he had already broken eye contact with her. "I'm very sorry, I know we'll hardly see each other for the next two months, but I promise you we can make up for all that time.”

They both knew that their lifestyle would cause this series of situations, they had experienced it before in the other relationships and it could be a source of conflict in order to cope with their day to day life, however they were fully aware that both were willing to face them. You positioned yourself in front of him by dropping your body onto Chris' body, put your arms around him and looked upwards for his gaze. Your boyfriend kept his gaze fixed on the distance, his face turned to the right avoiding eye contact. You smiled melancholy, you knew Chris' tactic, he used it whenever he didn't want to argue with you.You raised your right hand to caress his cheek, which caused Chris to look into your eyes.

"Let's go home?" she asked, waiting for an affirmative answer from him, who, after smiling back at you, nodded his face.

Those were the first months of a relationship that began in a certain way. Hope was not placed in them, much less that feelings would arise so deep that they would plan a life together, making their residence in New York City official. However, in that brief period of time in which they had been able to meet and find the real person that the other was hiding inside, they had been able to verify that for some reason both were in that place and in that instant together, and that reason mainly was why they were going to fight.

MAIN MASTERLIST

FAQs

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise

#chris evans x reader #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #steve rogers #mcu #chris evans x y/n #masterlist

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shutterbug2012 · 3 years

Note

Cursed Euro Report time!!! (early for once because I don't care about sleep apparently)

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 ENGLAND WON THE SEMI-FINAL!!!!!

Tumblr Louies were conflicted between rejoicing on behalf of Louis and the fact that we deep down do not vibe with England as a concept at all. But once again, the things we do for love for Louis Tomlinson.

The Englishmen were very HAPPY to win! Seriously, the way they are so naturally getting on top of each other, getting on their knees, getting straddled, putting their asses up in the air. 🌈L-O-V-E 🌈

Congrats to your boï Kane, for shooting the winning goal!!! Good for him for mastering the art of putting a ball in a hand-guarded hole on the second try!!! The first time is often slippery but usually the second try ends up being making everyone come together!! There's shooting, there's shouting, it's basically sex.

Ok so I decided to check out Team England's twitter as per usual and I was like... there's not gonna be anything left they've used all the innuendos possible but BOY OH BOY was I wrong!!!

Here are some of the most recent thirst tweets:

For a moment, we can breathe. (that's what she/he/they said 😏)

I know it's growing strong... (that's what they said 😏)

So good. So good. So good. (that's what they said 😏)

So many BIG performances! (that's what they said 😏)

We're tired just looking at it (that's what they said 😏)

One more to go. (that's what they said 😏)

Still up? (that's what they said 😏)

A night we’ll all remember (that's what they said 😏)

They could straight up include the 🍆 emoji every time and it would WORK. In short: the social media manager is on crack.

We got Loutent from the match, even tho it started with some VERY DUBIOUS footage of a "Louis" who was wearing atrocious clothes and had suddenly bulked up overnight... FAKE NEWS!!! I was feeling superior and wanted to call everybody out on that obvious mistake but I had fallen prey of the Bus 2 tattoo fake scandal the day before so I didn't feel like I was standing on high ground....anyways!

Real Louis appeared later on, with his "boyfriend" Hot Luke, his "girlfriend" (El), and his girlfriend's girlfriend (Ella), his girlfriend's girlfriend's boyfriend (Ella's bf I don't know his name) and his boyfriend (no quotation mark here) Hot Bald Guy with Glasses aka THE real Mr. O™️, I have declared. His presence is becoming strongly suspicious and if he's there on Sunday then they're definitely doing it, I don't make the rules. (I have not seen any trace of Oli but I could be wrong. Maybe he was at Hogwarts...hahaha)(also one bucket hat was in view because of course there was)

Not that I'm counting but I've counted 3 Bald Men™️ within a 1 meter radius of Louis in yesterday's pub footage, so... draw your own conclusions at that. 😌The man has a clear type.

SO!!!! Finals on Sunday!!! Against ITALY 🇮🇹!!! Our 11 Englishmen better get ready to get their asses licked kicked, to get 💦destroyed 💦 on the field (and maybe off of it too, who knows 😏) to get 💦dominated 💦 by strong Italian sports gods as the ✨tension✨ will be hard high and at the end of 90+ min of balls play 🤲, each team will try to chase their own release 👅and be declared the winner of the ⚽️ Euro 2020 ⚽️!!!

Louies conundrum will come to an end as I believe the general consensus is that England will/should/deserves to lose, but at least the team will have made it 'til the end and thus provided us with Louis footage for as long as possible and also made Louis very happy, which is all we want (no, we don't want music or first-person content, whoever told you that...!!!). We shall see, but unless Louis treats us to a HD selfie if England wins, then I could care less about the brexiters getting the cup, which, may I remind them, is called the EURO cup.

Also the final is on Loudependence day??? 👀 Is something going to happen??? IS MUSIC COMING??? Louies, who have been tolerating Louis' football antics (the tweets! the jerseys IG stories!) for weeks and are desperate for any kind of information on LT2 coming directly from the Boss himself, are franticly asking themselves... Alas, there is no way to know right now...

But I'd say, in conclusion to this 1,000 words essay, that we can't infer that England making it so far in the tournament is based on Louis' wishes and Louies energy backing his deepest desire... BUT we have learned that 🕯manifesting🕯"works" so we need to gather our strength and send ✨good vibes✨ for music content soon. *starts chanting*

In the meantime KMM at Wembley, YES KING!!!

xoxo,

Gareth Girl.

a wild ride from start to finish but so worth it 😌

#the match was not their finest moment that's for sure ksldfjskdls #and we truly do not vibe w england as a concept but then again. we have harry kane #the way these british men have me fawning over them ugh can't believe it #the straddling though 😭 get a room boys you're being watched 😭#ive seen enough posts dissing the penalty goal so idk what to think about their win now 👁👄👁 BUT ty mr kane for making louis happy #:DDD #england's social media is on FIRE though im sure they know what they're doing w those tweets JSKDDLSJDJFJSSK #and that tiktok pls 😭😭😭 insanity 😭#your logic for not calling people out 💀 it's ok bestie we all make mistakes 🤝#dt is inexcusable though they're the ones who said louis was holding the knife upside down and now this video of a different man?? jail pls #louke 🥰 unknown bald man 👀#i just hope eng doesnt turn the finals into a clown show like this match jdksldlsjgdkl pls play better my boys u have a lot riding on you #and!! i donot agree w the consensus!! most importantly kane my beloved does not agree w the consensus 🥰#so louies will just have to tolerate my pro eng rants on sunday <3 ily all but i love kane more <33 #kmm at wembley so true ‼‼ keep manifesting people we might just get loudependence music content ‼‼#ty for ur service gareth girl <333 #clem's mission reports my beloved <3 #mail #berlinini

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theonetheycallhannah · 3 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 16: Sit Rep

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, various other original supporting/secondary characters (This includes Sy’s Army Buddies of varying rank as follows: Kevin Kaufmann, Nate Banning, Chad Randall, Matt Styles, Jake Ryburn, and Travis Hodges. I apologize if I’ve mixed up their names anywhere. I just gave them last names and sometimes rank so they could be called something other than their first names for sake of variety! lol!)

Summary: Sy meets up with his Army buddies and they are eager to help.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, firearms, implication of abuse and violence

Author’s Note: Guys, we are getting closer! Our couple will be back together soon! I can’t wait and I know most of you feel the same! I hope the strike team members aren’t too muddled and confusing. If they are, I’m very open to your feedback and suggestions on how to clarify and improve! Thank you to everyone, long time readers, and new fans picked up along the way! I cherish you all, and would never have gotten this far in the story if it wasn’t for each and every one of you! I hope you enjoy the 16th chapter (18th installment…remember when I thought this would just be a few chapters of fluff with a smutty conclusion? Lol!) of The treatment of Captain Syverson.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy sat in his truck in the parking lot of Cade's. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was here. The altercations with Elliott, both inside the bar and outside, the friendships he'd started to build with the other fellas in Shane's work group, the simple way Shane pulled off the elegance of minimalism with her wardrobe and makeup, the ride home…and the night of lovemaking that followed. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have agreed to come tonight. He was gonna leave. His right hand reached for the keys in the ignition, a firm grip ready to set the engine roaring again, when he was startled by a rap at his window.

Tap-tappa-tap-tap his friend Kevin had just rhythmically knocked with one knuckle on the window. He was smiling and waving exuberantly, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

Sy's scowl softened into a sheepish grin and he knocked back tap-tap.

Kevin waited near Sy's front fender while he got out of his truck.

"How ya doin' Kevin?" he greeted his old friend warmly.

"Alright, I s'pose! You?"

"Oh…I'm makin' it, I guess. What are you up to these days? Still workin' at the plant?" Kevin had worked for the 3M factory over in Lebanon, Missouri since his last tour. Sy knew if he just got him talking about his life, Sy wouldn't have to give him details about his own, which he was going to avoid like the plague, if he could tonight.

"Yup, I actually just got a promotion. I'm a line manager now." And Sy could barely congratulate him before he started delving into the details as the two men walked into Cade's.

It was already busy, even for a Friday night. But the rest of the guys had already claimed a table between the dart boards and the pool tables, and were working on a couple of pitchers of beer. The two were welcomed warmly and only slightly teased about walking in together.

With the group finally assembled, they began taking turns giving report on their lives. It began with Kevin, who, having already begun with Sy, continued with a brief recap for the others. Sy exhaled with relief when Matt, who was seated on the other side of Kevin piped up to speak next, having recently proposed to his long time girlfriend. They were going to get to him last, if at all. He listened as well as he could as he battled the troubled thoughts in his head by bombarding them with beer. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Nate, who'd organized the gathering, had been observing his behavior with curiosity, and a measure of concern. He didn't let Jake finish talking about his latest dalliance into what they were all sure was a pyramid scheme disguised as direct sales. Even though Jake insisted it was not.

"Well, I'm curious as to why Sy's been so tight-lipped all evening. What's on your mind, Captain?"

"Nothin' Nate. Just enjoying a few beers with old friends." Sy lied, not convincing anyone at the table, least of all Nate, who had been one of his closest friends while they were stationed together.

"If I wanted to hear bullshit, I'd have let Jake keep talking about the Duraplex scam."

"It's not a scam, guys, it's real supplements for busy people!" Jake defended.

"Can it, Hodges. We aren't buying it, and we aren't signing up to sell it, either." Nate focused again on Sy. "Come on, man. You told me on the phone you had a lot going on. What is it? Female troubles?" He snickered, as did the other guys.

Sy looked into his glass, through the foam and into the honey liquid below it with a rueful grin. "In a sense."

He took a huge drink of the beer, five gulps, nearly emptying it, fortifying himself to speak.

"My girlfriend is missing." Everyone froze in position as they processed this.

Half a dozen questions hit his ears at once. Which he could have handled if he hadn't had almost a full pitcher by himself.

He shut them down, and began to tell them the story of how he met Shane and their sort of whirlwind romance. He paused for a moment to pour himself another beer.

"Never heard you talk about a woman like that, Sy." His friend Chad piped up.

"Never felt this way before, man. She's…she's the one."

"You said she was missing, though?" Nate asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sy continued, talking about their argument, reconciliation, and then his leaving for training, ending his briefing with the phone call he got from Shane's boss.

"That's fucked up, man." Matt said. "What are you gonna do about it?" His worry seemed genuine, as well, as if he was putting himself in Sy's shoes. Sy assumed because he had been in love with Tonya, his now fiancé since they were in high school, even though she didn't come around on him until he came home on leave one holiday weekend.

"I've already gone to the police with my statement and an idea for a prime suspect."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Brad Randall, who was a Sergeant for the Rolla Police Department, inquired.

"I personally have no doubts that she was kidnapped, and I am a hun'ert percent certain it was her shithead ex."

"And you don't think she's just…ghosted you?" Brad prompted. The thought put a painful tightness in Sy's chest, but it passed quickly. He knew she wouldn't do that. And not just to him.

"No way, man. She left her phone. She didn't tell work. She didn't even tell her parents. Shane takes her phone with her from room to room. She's glued to it. She'd never do that to her coworkers, who are practically family, and she'd certainly tell her parents if she was going to leave town for any amount of time. It's just…not her. I know her."

"And who's this ex? What's his deal? Why is he on the short list of suspects?"

"He IS the list, Brad. He was abusive when they were together. And a cheater. And a liar. And he tried to jump me right outside just a few weeks back. Ask Candace. She was behind the bar when he started getting in Shane's face up there. And I'd bet she saw what happened out in the parking lot, too." He gestured to the sporty blonde bartender with a high ponytail and a Cardinal's jersey when he mentioned her, and then pointed toward the windows looking out onto the dozen or more vehicles parked outside.

"Can we do anything?" Kevin asked, clamping a hand on Sy's shoulder.

"Nothin'. But I appreciate the offer, brother." And he returned the contact with a clap to the other man's shoulder.

Nate and Brad exchanged pointed looks, and Nate countered Sy's rejection.

"I wouldn't say THAT, Sy."

"What do you mean?" Sy looked at Nate as if he was pedaling snake oil…or Jake's supplements.

"I think…that we CAN do something. To help you find Shane."

"We all have military experience, and some of us have connections that could be very useful." Added Brad. "I'm on the Force. I can handle getting intel on the guy."

"I'm in to help with transpo." Matt Styles raised his hand to offer up the vehicles in his transportation service, Rydes with Styles. Sy hated when words were misspelled for the sake of gimmicks…but he had to give Matt credit for that one.

"And Travis and I still work at the base. We can arrange gear." Jake added as Travis nodded.

"And whatever else you need, I'm in too." Kevin concluded.

"No way, guys. You can't stick your necks out for me like that. I won't have it."

"Sy…You know I talked to Lopez after that last mission the two of you were on?" Travis met Sy's eye as he spoke. "He said you had your team carry out Kominski's body. And that you took on most of, and then all of his bodyweight, just so Freeman could cover everyone. Said you were hurt, yourself, but helped him, carried him, to your extraction point. Up several flights of stairs."

Sy had no response other than a blank stare. It seemed to say all it needed to, because Travis continued.

"Lopez is alive and the Kominski girls got to say a proper goodbye to David. Plus, that mission WAS a success because you got the target. I know it's still classified, but…I think we all know the significance of what you did by leading that mission. You didn't leave a man, living or dead, behind."

"And we aren't gonna let your girl get left behind, either. We're gonna take that sonofabitch out. Because what do we do?" Nate declared, ending with the call Sy had always used at the end of his mission briefs.

The whole table, including a reluctant Sy, recited “We embrace the darkness and the suffering.”

“And why do we do it?” Nate continued.

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace." Sy looked around the table at all of these men he had served with, fought with, watched comrades fall with, and fought against tyranny with. He thought most of them could have come up with their own story about his role in their military time, but the mission Travis was talking about outlined what he figured was the most significant sacrifice he had ever made for a teammate.

"Well…I guess we need to come up with a plan, then." Sy smiled and finished off the beer in his glass before laying it out for the others.

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

Sy had given them all missions tailored to their own strengths and connections. Brad would gather all the info he could on Elliott. Matt would reserve vehicles. Jake and Travis would procure tactical gear for the team, and Nate…Nate would provide weapons. Pistols and blades. Ammo. Holsters. Even flash grenades and smoke bombs.

Cade's was too public to talk about their plans, so Sy told everyone to rendezvous at his house the very next afternoon. They sat around the patio table on his back deck while they waited for everyone to arrive. Jake was late.

"Well, I guess 'direct sales' waits for no man, and we can't wait for Ryburn anymore. Styles, report?" Sy commenced the meeting.

"I have three Suburbans that are only a couple years old. They're black, discreet, and all glass is tinted within an inch of it's life. Even the license plate covers. I'll make sure they're fueled and ready." Matt stated.

"Aces. Richardson?" Travis spoke up next.

"Yeah, Jake had to go in for a late shift last night after we met, but I talked to him. He's gonna get vests for everyone, eyewear, comms, the whole works. All rated for Black Ops. He told me a bit ago he was following up on a lead and was hoping it would pan out. Said he had a hunch." Travis shrugged, not certain what his friend was up to, but not that concerned.

"Sounds good. Randall?"

"I made up some dossiers for everyone that includes everything I could find on Thomas. He doesn't have a ton of priors. Mostly drunk and disorderly's that were thrown out, because he got the right representation and the wrong judge. He must have someone backing him, because I have no job on file for him. No employer has run a background on him in ten years. Last known address is from six years ago, when he filed a change of address from an apartment in the Cottage Hills complex to…407 Oak Street."

"That's Shane's address." Sy interjected. "He must not have changed it since she kicked him out."

"It seems so. But it's so weird. I don't see any credit cards, online orders, not even a Netflix account on the guy. He's totally fallen off the grid since Shane. I did get into some social media accounts, but he hasn't posted to anything in the last 18 months."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was posting hot and heavy about this girl, Kara Hutch. 37. Lives over in Waynesville. But his last Facebook status just says, 'What a waste.' and 'feeling betrayed' and that was in February of last year."

"Hmm, do you think--" Sy was interrupted by the unexpectedly loud and abrupt sound of his front door flying open and Aika, with them on the deck, barking like they were about to be murdered. She was ready to kill whatever came through next. The men, all of them battle hardened veterans sporting conceal and carry permits, were out of their seats and in defensive stances in a fraction of a second. Aiming at an unseen enemy. A figure approached in the shadow of Sy's kitchen, arms raised and slowing as it saw several barrels aimed for its head and chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, guys it's me! It's Jake! Stand down!"

"Are you FUCKING INSANE, Corporal!?" Sy asked, reverting to Captain mode. "You just snuck up on and burst in on a group of soldiers. Do you comprehend how close you came to looking more like Swiss Cheese than a man, Ryburn?!" Sy scolded, fire in him rising, but more out of an angry concern for the friend they nearly shot.

"Sorry, sir, err, Sy. I was focused on getting here for my report." Jake said, out of breath.

"Travis already told us about the gear, Ryburn. You didn't need to bust in like that." Nate berated.

"Oh, guys. What I've got is way better than night vision devices. I might have an address for our guy."

"How in seven hells did YOU get an address?" Brad exclaimed, pride wounded as intel was his task.

"I know, dude, that was on you, but…I overheard a conversation when I was doing some work on equipment in the Air Traffic Control tower."

"What could you have possibly overheard in ATC?" Sy was incredulous.

"Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to keep screaming at me?"

Sy called Aika off and let Jake onto the deck, but the German Shepherd was still eyeing the corporal with marked skepticism.

"So I kept hearing this controller talking to the other girl at her station. She kept talking about her boyfriend…whose name was Elliott." Eyebrows went up all around the table. "Yeah, and he fit the description in every way. Physical appearance, textbook narcissism, the works. I went to the personnel office when I got done with the service call and told the attendant that the girl had helped me with my gear and I wanted to send her an email to thank her. She gave me a contact sheet on Sasha King. I looked her up on my lunchbreak, and found some photos of her with a guy I think might be Elliott." Jake showed Sy an image he'd saved to his phone. "Is this him?"

"Yup, that's the guy." Sy's blood was boiling again at the smiles on the couple's faces. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve a pretty girlfriend. He should die alone, starving for the love he deprived others. "You say you got an address?"

"Yeah, the gal in personnel printed me a full demo sheet. The only thing we don't have is a social." Sy noted the redacted 9-digit code in one corner of the document Jake had handed him. He read out loud. 3502 Highway D. St. Robert, MO.

"You boys feel up to a little recon tonight?" They all nodded, excitedly, patting Jake on the back, and high fiving him in congratulations on the invaluable find. Even Brad commended him on his detective skills and told him he'd have a job on the Force with him if he ever wanted a change. The corporal almost blushed.

The men went back into the house and through the front door to the driveway where they were all parked.

"Jake, you brought all the gear, too?"

"Sure did, Sy. There's vests, belts, NVDs and helmets to mount. There's plenty for everyone." Jake opened the back of his Jeep as if it were a buffet of delicious tactical equipment. Sy found among the gear a large case and opened it out of curiosity. A sound amplifier with headphones. That was going with him, as it appeared there was only one.

"I'll outfit everyone with guns and ammo later. But here are some tac knives, and three of each diversionary devices for each member of the team." Nate passed out packs with the blades, smoke grenades, and flash bombs.

"Okay, rendezvous at Matt's shop at 1800. We'll go over some procedures for the evening and get set up with the rest of our weaponry then. Okay?" General nods of ascent and "mmhmms" in confirmation of the plan came from the men. Sy continued, "Maybe get some rest between now and then. I don't know how long this is going to take."

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

Sy got to Matt's a little early. 1730. Nate showed up about ten minutes later and pulled in next to Sy, leaving the rear doors accessible to arm the team. The men got out of their vehicles and began double checking Nate's inventory.

"Nervous?" Nate said after exchanging the usual pleasantries.

"I didn't think I was. But just now, I got to thinking about what that…monster is doing to the love of my life. What he's putting her through, if he's even let her live. What are we going to come across when we get to this place?"

"You can't think like that. She's not Schrödinger's cat. You have to be positive here. This mission depends on your strength as a leader. You're gonna do great. And Shane is gonna be fine. We all will. Have a little faith, man." Nate patted Sy on the back in encouragement. Sy appreciated it. But he thought he might have to compartmentalize, instead. Think of this as just another mission. Forget that Shane was involved. Even if it wasn't healthy, it might at least be helpful.

Matt arrived soon after and waved at the two men as he pulled in on the other side of Nate. He got out and greeted his friends, all of them shooting the breeze and enfolding the others into the conversation as they got there. Kevin was the last to arrive, just before 1800, when the briefing commenced.

"So," Sy began, more timidly than was his usual way. "First, guys, I wanna say, I appreciate y'all so much for doing this. For putting in the time and the resources to help me and Shane. I owe y'all more than I can repay, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Within reason." He grinned and his friends chuckled.

"Now, we've got the comms set up. We'll be in each other's ears, so we can report in real time. I've looked up an aerial view of the farm on Google Earth, and there should be good cover for surveillance with the sound equipment and NVDs. I'll take point, Nate, you and Matt are with me. Kevin, you and Brad will flank the property on the left, Travis and Jake are going right. I'm hoping this will just be recon, but if I get wind of something I don't like, I may call for the strike. You guys will report anything you think looks fishy, and I will make that call with the intel I'm given. Now. When and if I make that call, we're gonna aim for disorientation and soft incapacitation. If you don't have to kill, don't. I don't know how much help this bastard has, but I know it would have taken several to take down Shane. It's not that I think any of them deserve to be spared, but…I don't want us to break up any families. We don't need the weight on our already heavy souls." War had changed them all, and Sy didn't want to make any more widows. "We good?"

Nods of approval from the men made Sy think he was looking at a military bobble head collection. He stifled a smile.

"Alright, lets get armed and ready, then Matt can take us to our chariots."

They were all mostly suited up, black or dark colors were the general uniform. They were ready for whatever might happen. As Nate handed out guns and ammo, the men examined their clips, loaded their guns, and put them in their holsters until needed…they hoped they wouldn't be.

When they were all set, they followed Matt to the huge garage he kept his fleet in.

Although, "garage" didn't quite do the building justice. It was actually an airplane hangar that Matt got for a good price when the local airline went under. He'd made a loft in it with a ramp so there was extra room for smaller vehicles like his town cars. The limos, SUVs, and the stretch Hummer were on the lower level. He had a separate space outside for the two party busses and the RV, protected from the elements by large carports.

Matt went to grab keys from the lock box as the men gathered near the Suburbans. Sy was getting angsty. Moment of truth was here.

"Okay," Matt jingled two sets of keys in his hands. "Who's driving?"

Kevin deferred to Brad without contest, but Jake and Travis were bickering over the question between them.

"Grow up or get married already." Sy chided. "Jake, you got the good intel for us yesterday. You drive."

Travis was mildly crestfallen, but Jake was stoked and he caught the keyring Matt tossed him.

"You wanna drive, Captain?" Matt offered Sy the last set of keys.

"No, Matt. You're driving our group. I'll take shotgun though."

And the seven men got into the vehicles as if they were mounting horses, headed into the sunset.

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

Over the comms on the way, Sy addressed the team. "Okay, there's a large outbuilding near the road, guys. Pull off the driveway and park behind that structure. Hopefully they'll hide the vehicles from the main house. Bravo and Charlie teams, you let Alpha team get in place before you take your positions."

"Roger that, Captain." Kevin said in the headset.

"We copy." Travis answered for himself and Jake.

The first phase of the mission went perfectly. Sy, Nate, and Matt were in position, and Sy had set up the sound amplifier, aiming it at the house, headphones on. When the other teams were in position, Matt reported to Sy, since he was getting feedback using the earpiece and the headphones for the amp at the same time.

"Bravo and Charlie teams are in place, Captain."

"Great. Sit Rep?"

"All's quiet so far. Wait. Headlights coming up the drive." Each team tried to make themselves as small and low as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence. Sy had been getting nothing but crime show drivel from the TV in the house since he got here.

A petite but curvy brunette got out of the white Honda Civic and stomped into the house.

"Hey babe." Elliott's unmistakable voice rang in Sy's ear. And he was filled to bursting with rage all over again.

"What the fuck, Elliott? I've been trying to call you for hours! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, I was charging my phone in the bedroom. What's going on?"

"That Captain Syverson your little pet was banging? I found out today that he's back in town. Has been for a few days."

"Shit. Shit!!! SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, so…if he isn't already, it won't be long before he starts trying to find her."

"But…how could he? Even if he thought it was me, I have no official ties to this place, or even you!"

"Flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, but I'd get rid of her ASAP. This guy is NOT someone you wanna piss off, Elliott."

"I'll bring the guys in. We'll take care of it. Tonight."

Sy cussed in a loud whisper. He wanted to rip Elliott apart with his bare hands. Nate asked him what was wrong, but Sy held up a hand for him to remain quiet because he heard the scumbag inside on the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, change of plans, we need to do this tonight. Get everyone out here. Yes, immediately. There's a…potential complication. We need to take care of her before it becomes more. Yeah, she's weak, but I'm still gonna wait until you guys get here. She's still got some fight in her. She about took Jackson's eye out yesterday when he was down there. He's got some wicked scratches on his face. I think he made her regret it, though." Elliott laughed with evil mirth. Sy was furious. He reckoned God Himself might have a time pulling him off that degenerate before he made him unrecognizable as a human man. Once he started punching him, he might not be able to stop.

When Elliott signed off, Sy pulled the earphones down onto his neck. He looked at Matt and Nate.

"He's planning something with Shane and has called in reinforcements. It sounds like he means to take her somewhere else, and it didn't sound like it was gonna be pretty. I think we need to go in now."

"Shit. Okay." Matt responded. Sy put his earpiece in and called on the rest of the team.

"Bravo and Charlie, do you copy?"

"Bravo copies." Kevin reported back.

"Charlie copies. Go ahead, Alpha." Travis cleared.

"Listen, boys. We need to go in, and we need to make it quick. Here’s the situation. We have one male and one female assailant inside the domicile, and an undetermined number of additional combatants en route to reinforce the enemy's line. We have one target. A female prisoner, presumably in the basement, given verbiage used in the communication I intercepted. Alpha team will make our priority extraction. Bravo, you will subdue the male assailant and then maintain sentry position on the lookout for more unfriendlies. Charlie team, you will clear the second level of the house and subdue the female combatant. She is a soldier, so proceed with extreme caution. Once the area is secure, drivers, go and retrieve the vehicles. We are gonna need to get out of here quick, or else things might go tits up. I'm concerned we'll lose the advantage of numbers if we wait too long. Are we clear?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader."

"Roger. On your count, cap."

Sy took a deep breath. Thought to himself "Shane. I'm on my way, baby!" He saw red, then. And called for the charge, out of the darkness, and into the farmhouse. To an uncertain outcome.

Up Next: Chapter 17-Gait Training

#Sand Castle #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill x ofc

90 notes · View notes

meloingly · 3 years

Text

Clumsy Your Way Into My Heart

@carlosreyesweek Day 6: AU!!!

Summary: When Carlos first volunteered to go grocery shopping for the station, he didn’t think he would be overthinking it as much as he is right now.

Cereal box shenanigans and loads of blushing later:

Carlos finds that he’s much calmer than he’s ever been since he got here. Maybe overthinking about food isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Mentioned Owen Strand, Mentioned Paul Strickland, Mentioned Marjan Marwani, Mentioned Mateo Chavez, Mentioned Judd Ryder, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Clumsy Boys, Firefighter Carlos Reyes,, Police Officer TK Strand, Pre-Relationship, Flirting.

Warnings: Blushing and clumsiness.

At the moment in which I'm writing this, this fic has been started less than 24 hours ago and was completed 10 minutes ago. My beta is going through it right now and I'm getting AO3 and Tumblr ready. As we've found out, AU is my kryptonite.

The hugest, and largest thanks and love to the one and only @lire-casander. The amount of love and support that I get from this woman is unbelievable. The help she's been on this fic alone is insane, let alone with everything else that I do. She's been a guide and a friend and this would not have happened without you <3

Read on AO3.

---

When Carlos first volunteered to go grocery shopping for the station, he didn’t think he would be overthinking it as much as he is right now. And yet he keeps remembering how Marjan can only eat halal food and Mateo is lactose sensitive, Paul likes spicy food but Judd can’t handle any. Captain Tommy -he still needs some time to get used to her not wanting to be called by her last name- likes white bread while his own soon-to-return Captain Strand won’t eat anything that isn’t full-grain. So he keeps getting more food, and more food, and more food.

He started out shopping like he usually would, keeping in mind the slight dietary restrictions; a few vegetables and fruits, several dairy and soy products, some poultry. And then he came to the realisation that it would be better if he bought food for more than one day’s meals. And then his brain supplied the wonderful what if I want to make a dish and I can’t find canned peeled cherry tomatoes, which he knows is not only highly specific but also highly unlikely. And yet he now finds himself dragging a cart on the verge of overflowing. And he’s still got seven more aisles to go.

He's so focused on studying the displayed boxes of cereal that spread across half an aisle, holding two different brands in his hands and moving right and left to compare them with others, that he doesn't notice a whole other human being on the way until he’s being run over by flesh and bones.

They immediately get into a fumbling battle, legs somehow holding up. The boxes in Carlos’ slip, so do the other person’s. Carlos manages to catch two cartoons, the faint recognition that one of them is sugar flakes -which he didn’t pick- runs through his mind before he focuses on yet another cartoon making its descent through the sky. He steps forward, and so does the other person. They crash in the middle, chest to chest. And this time, they all come crashing to the ground.

Carlos lands on a knee, hands already going out to hold onto the boxes, when a body slams into his. He drops the box, holding onto the waist person that’s half splayed on him now. He follows the flat chest, taking note of the APD logo on the side of his shirt and the rainbow pinned next to it, to the bare beginnings of a stubble, up across thin, pink lips and a sharp nose, to end at mesmerising green eyes.

It takes all of his will power not to gasp, but he can't stop the dropped jaw. The man is beautiful. There's no other way to describe him. His light brown hair lays a mess on top of his head, his green eyes sparkle with a mix of shock and surprise, and his teeth seem to find relief in sinking into his lower lip.

He feels movement around him, and then a hand makes its way between them and lays on his shoulder. He feels the pressure on his chest give way, manifesting as an exhale from the man. Carlos realises that he’s been holding his breath too, and sighs, his exhale mingling with the man’s inhale. And then a cart crashes behind them, and they realise they’re sitting on the floor of a grocery store in the middle of the day. Their bubble crashes.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so clumsy I can’t believe this happened!” The man says as he fully pushes off Carlos, eye contact breaking to pick up the dropped boxes. The apology finally breaks through Carlos’ hazy mind, and he let’s go of the man’s shirt, coming to a stand as well as he picks up the remaining boxes.

“Oh no, no! It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking,” he states, finally straightening up. "Good save, officer,” he adds as he steps back before he can even think about.

The man's eyes snap back to him, widening in shock before his face breaks into a small smile and then his head falls forward, chuckling and shaking his head. Carlos finds himself snickering as well.

"I can say the same to you, firefighter," the man says, nodding his chin towards Carlos' own AFD shirt.

Carlos looks at his own shirt before he looks back at the man. He feels like he knows him, he's seen him before, but he can't remember where or when. But the green eyes bore into his very soul, so he looks down at his hands instead, finally noticing the box of organic multi-bran flakes.

"Uhh, these are yours? I'm guessing?"

The man looks at Carlos' hands, eyes and mouth opening is recognition. "Yeah, those are my dad's. A disgrace to the very idea of flakes," he adds as he glares at the box.

“They’re not that bad,” Carlos laughs, and the glare redirects itself from the box to Carlos. Which makes him cut himself mid-laugh, only to dissolve into chuckles again when the man cracks the smallest of smiles.

“Are you just saying that or have you actually tried them?”

“I’ve tried them, my captain back at the station likes them,” he replies, moving a step back to drag his cart closer. “I even got a box here,” he gestures to the cartoon laying on top of the mountain.

“Pfft, and I thought my dad was the only one crazy enough to like these. Good to know there’s someone else like him in here,” he shakes his head in amusement, a sentiment Carlos shares. Of everything he was imagining when he moved states to join the 126, he wasn’t expecting to be talking to a cute officer in the middle of the grocery store, discussing cereal of all things.

The man takes a few steps back, reaching behind the corner of the aisle and dragging a cart up next to him. Carlos extends an arm to him, handing over the box, which he takes and drops into his cart.

Carlos can’t help but sneak a peek into it. There’s a very obvious mix of junk food and snacks, and healthy organic and full-grain foods. It reminds him of his new Captain. He hasn’t interacted with him much, the man getting injured a mere day after Carlos got transferred. But the rest of the crew has given him a list of all the dietary preferences, Captain’s included.

He looks up at the man, finding him alternating between looking at the ground and the shelves. Carlos has noticed that he already has three boxes of cereal, he couldn’t possibly need more. He looks like he wants to say something, or maybe he’s reading it wrong and he wants to move away. Either way, he decides to take a plunge. He’s already moved half-way through the country in a leap of faith, why not take another one?

“I’m Carlos, by the way,” he extends an arm to the man, “Reyes, of AFD.”

The smile that he receives tells him that it’s the right choice. The other man extends his arm, hand wrapping around Carlos’ in a warm embrace. If this is how his hand feels, Carlos can’t even imagine what a hug would feel like.

“Hello, Carlos, I’m TK,” he gives their hands a shake. “Strand, of APD.”

Carlos is so enamoured with the man’s -TK’s- eyes and smile that it takes him a moment to register the name. But once he does, he can’t help the quick and rapid blinking he does to clear his mind.

“Wait, did you just say Strand?”

“Uhh,” TK blinks back at him, turning his head to a side as his eyelids flutter in confusion. “Yeah?”

Carlos doesn’t pay him much mind though, what are the chances of this happening?

“Is your father Owen Strand? Captain of the 126?”

“Yeah, that’s my dad, how did you know that?” All of the confusion that was mildly visible on TK’s face is now showcased a full one hundred per cent, both in his facial expressions and tone of voice.

“He’s my captain!” Carlos exclaims. “I work with the 126 too!”

It seems to take TK a moment to come to terms with what Carlos is saying. But the moment drags on so long that he begins to think he just got this awfully wrong. He’s about to disentangle their still bound hands when clarity finally shines on TK’s face and he breaks into a wide grin.

“You’re the new guy from New Jersey,” he says around a smile. Carlos is confused for just a second, wondering how he knows about his previous state of residence when TK continues talking. “My dad told me all about you! He can’t wait to get back tomorrow and work with you again. Said he only had to see you on one call and he knew he made the right choice asking you to join the 126.”

Carlos feels the blush rising up the back of his neck and into the highs of his cheeks, but he can’t really stop it. He knows he’s good at his job, he knows he’s a decent firefighter. But having the son of his Captain relay what said Captain said brings a sense of belonging and validation he didn’t think he’d get a mere three weeks on the job.

“He… he said that?” he asks. He needs to know. He’s been worried, stressing himself out of his mind in fear that he’s not showing the best of his abilities. Not only did he travel 1.5 thousand miles from one border of the country to another, he also took a job with a team that’s already well-formed and perfectly working without him. They didn’t ask for him because they needed him, they asked for him because they just wanted to. And he’s constantly aware of that whenever they’re on a call and everyone is on top of what they need to be doing.

“Yeah, man, he did!” TK says. He then takes another look at Carlos, and he can only guess that he can read minds. “He said you’re sharp, careful and smart. You think twice as hard and act twice as fast. He said you carry the job like it should be, with respect and responsibility,” he smiles at Carlos, closing the step between them and bringing a hand up to run the back of his fingers across the logo on his shirt.

Carlos brings his own hand up, covering TK’s -one of many things he’s done before his consciousness can think it out today. TK’s eyes glance over their hands before they stare up into him, the faint emerald greens ripping his insecurities and uncertainties into shreds with each passing second.

“Thank you,” he whispers. He can’t talk any louder when they’re this close. “I needed to know that.”

The smile he gets in reply is worth the distance he travelled. TK drifts his gaze down Carlos’ face, and he copies the action. He finds TK’s lower lip hidden between the bite of his upper teeth, and he can’t help but imagine what they would feel like holding onto his own.

“Excuse me!”

Carlos snaps his head to the side, a woman with bright red hair standing there glaring at both of them. He sneaks a quick glance at TK, both of them stepping back as she steps forward, reaching between them to grab a box of cereal before she dumps it into her cart and moves along. He follows her until she turns the corner, no longer in his visual field, before he turns back to a blushing TK.

He provides a small, pained smile, and Carlos laughs at the expression he’s presented with. They’ve been caught in two of these situations so far, and they’ve only met for minutes. Carlos supposes it would be embarrassing if it wasn’t for the pull he feels towards the man. The pull that has both of them stepping forward again, until there’s barely a foot of distance between them.

“So, you’ve been here for three weeks, right?” TK asks. Carlos knows TK knows the answer. Captain Strand sprained his shoulder on Carlos’ first day here, and that was three weeks ago. He nods anyway.

“So, I’m guessing you haven’t seen much of the city yet?”

A twinkle of hope starts to bubble in Carlos’ chest. He has a faint inkling of where this is going, but he isn’t sure. He can only wish and pray.

“No, not really. I’ve been to a couple of places with the crew, that’s it,” he answers, pausing for a moment to take a breath. “I haven’t found a tour guide yet.”

TK chuckles at him, the sound sending waves of happiness through Carlos, even as TK shakes his head at him. “Well, then, I have a proposition for you, Firefighter Reyes.”

Carlos is playing into it without a moment to think. “Oh, do you now, Police Officer Strand?”

TK is nodding back at Carlos before the words are even out of his mouth.

“How about this: I’ll be your tour guide.”

Carlos looks up at the ceiling of the store, rubbing a hand through his chin and humming as feigns thinking. “What would your payment be?” he asks.

“You let me take you out for coffee,” TK says around a smirk. All pretence of a game falls through shambles immediately, and they’re back into an intense round of gazing into each other eyes. Almost as if they can read each other through them.

“Can I bargain for a cheesecake?”

The question seems to come out of nowhere and throw TK off his track. His eyes widen for a moment before he’s bursting into laughs. The loud, booming kind with the head thrown back and hands bracing his own chest. Carlos smiles at the sight, the closed eyes, the exposed neck, the sound that carries absolute joy; it’s a view he wants to see for the entire rest of his life.

“Ahh, that can definitely be arranged,” TK says once he manages to stop laughing.

Carlos doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes his phone from his pocket, opening the contact app and handing it over. TK takes it, types a few buttons and gives it back. Carlos looks at the screen to see that he’s calling a number. A number that’s been saved under TK Strand Grocery Officer.

A phone ringing has him lifting his head, just in time to see TK pull out his own phone, decline the call and press a few more times on the screen. He then turns it around showing Carlos his own number saved as Carlos Reyes Grocery Fire.

“I think there should be a fighter in there,” he comments, much to the amusement of TK.

“Naaah. That might be your job,” he replies, looking Carlos up and down. “But you’re straight fire.”

As if on command, said fire burns through his face as he blushes yet again. This time he doesn’t resist the urge to hide his face, lifting his hands to cover the warmth he can feel spreading to the tips of his ears. He hears a chuckle he knows is TK’s behind his shield. He doesn’t know how this happened, but he’s sure he’ll be able to recognise the sound out of a crowd of a hundred people.

He feels hands touch his fingers wrapping around his palm as they pull away from his face. TK then rests a hand on his cheek, and Carlos leans into it, eyes locked onto each other.

“I need to go. Call me?” Tk asks, voice flowing like butter.

“You can arrest me if I don’t, officer,” Carlos replies, voice just as soft.

TK nods as he takes a deep breath, the smile never leaving his face.

“That’s a good idea. After all, I do where you work”

From anyone else, that sentence would sound creepy and send Carlos running. But from TK it sounds like a promise he doesn’t want to lose. “Okay.”

With a final glance, TK steps back, breaking all contact they have together. Carlos misses the touch half a second after it’s gone. He moves back, grabbing his cart. He slowly steps forward, moving towards the registers. As he passes Carlos’ cart, he stops to peek into it before he turns back to him.

“Buy my dad cashew nuts and you’ll be his favourite tomorrow.”

As he moves away with a final smile thrown his way, Carlos finds that he’s much calmer than he’s ever been since he got here. Maybe overthinking about food isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

#carlosreyesweek2021 #Day 6: AU #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #Tarlos #Tarlos fic #Alternate Universe #Alternate First Meeting #They're clumsy boys your honour #911 lone star #911 lone star fic

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gravelyhumerus · 3 years

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 7

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Hallowe’en chaos.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

After trivia night, Emily Prentiss found her world had shifted slightly.

For the first time in her life, she had a friend group: a consistent presence of not only just Derek and the occasional Hotch, but also Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia and most importantly, Jennifer Jareau.

Emily noticed it most in the dining hall. Most mornings this semester, she would grab coffee and maybe an apple on her way to class. Now, she was invited to breakfast in the caf. And everyone was also invited, so the six of them began eating not only breakfasts together when their schedules lined up, but soon that melded to include dinners and the odd lunch between classes. While Penelope initiated at the beginning, soon this became a routine.

While they were all busy, and driven people, all with full course loads, extracurriculars and miscellaneous commitments, they managed to get the whole team together multiple times that week.

A few times, extra faces joined them. Penelope’s friend from class, Kevin… something, joined for a lunch on Wednesday. He sat shyly as Derek stared him down the entire time. On Thursday, somehow Hotch convinced their Criminology TA, David Rossi, who was part time Masters Student and part time weed dealer, to have lunch with the bribe of them using their guest pass so he could get a free meal. He reluctantly acquiesced, but seemed to enjoy himself. On Friday, the day before Halloween, Emily brought Tara Lewis, the MC from the Trivia night that was two years ahead of her in criminology, they ran into each other in the quad, recognizing each other. This open door policy made these dinners fun, with new faces alongside their team.

This was all new for Emily. Not having friends, that is, because Emily could always muddle along with some friends, and when she was younger she shaped herself easily into whatever the popular kids wanted her to be. No, it was new because it was so easy. The team, as they now called themselves as a shorthand, had fallen together so effortlessly.

Today was Halloween and they had plans at Dave’s student house, the shabby place that she had ran into JJ, Penelope and Spencer all that time ago. Had it only been a month? She felt like she had known them all for lifetimes by now.

It happened that way with Derek last year, the whole living together thing sped up that connection. Intimacy comes fast when you brush your teeth next to someone.

Emily was sitting at her desk, finishing up her makeup. She was aiming for a vampire, which wasn’t hard given her previous fashion aesthetic.

Yes, Emily did have a goth phase. She will admit it. Not to her new friends just yet, and Derek had been sworn to secrecy. She was now a much more toned down goth, more alt than goth, wearing mostly black but significantly less chains and make up.

Tonight, she wore her fishnets, a short black dress and a cape that was already tied around her shoulders. She had put a slightly too pale foundation on her face, down her neck, and was currently working on her eye liner. She carefully created elegant swoops over her lashes, coming to sharp points.

Next, she added a deep red lipstick. Blood red. It was all very spooky.

Finally, she struggled to test out the fake teeth insert that she had ordered online, slipping it over her top teeth. It fit surprisingly well.

“Happy Halloween,” she said to herself, testing out whether or not she had a lisp. She did. She didn’t care. It was perfect.

Emily did a couple of spins in the mirror on the back of the door. Turning off the overhead light, she looked at herself in the glowing light of her string lights.

She was satisfied. She looked like a hot vampire.

She grabbed her tote bag, which was filled with six miscellaneous beers and coolers that she had leftover from the last few weeks, knowing that she hated the cheap hoppy beer that Rossi would have at his party.

Emily was picky about her alcohol.

She glanced out the window, considering taking an extra layer. It was dreary outside, with the sky an eerie green and powerful gusts of wind rattling the window. Emily grabbed her leather jacket.

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder and draping her coat over her arm, Emily peeked out of her door, looking out into the hall. In both directions were students in costume; she spotted a Frankenstein, a couple of cats and even someone dressed up in an inflatable t-Rex suit.

She made sure her door was locked and then walked down the hall to Derek’s room, who was at the very end of the hall, as he had lucked out and got a massive room with lots of windows, across from the showers.

She opened the door, finding just about all of their friends already there, sneakily drinking out of mugs, cups and water bottles.

Reid was a zombie, wearing tattered, bloody clothes and a full face of makeup that Emily assumed that Penelope did for him. Sitting next to his computer, queueing music for their pre, was Derek, dressed in a baseball jersey and hat, apparently as a baseball player. This was expected, he wasn’t big on Halloween. Hotch was… a devil? He wore all black and simply had devil horns on his head. Low commitment but the spirit was there.

Emily hoisted herself onto Derek’s bed and greeted her friends.

Spencer was sneaking up behind Derek, peeking his head over his shoulder. Derek, at that moment, seemed to be texting, squinting down at his phone.

“I’m going to eat you!” Spencer yelled into Derek’s ear, causing the larger man to jump to his feet, swatting at the boy in his fright.

Emily laughed at her friend’s distress. He really didn’t like Halloween that much.

“Are you ready for a spooktacular evening?” Spence asked, making his voice wobbly as he put on a dramatic effect. He shone an orange, pumpkin patterned flashlight under his chin.

“Of course,” Emily lisped, “In fact, I vant to drink your blood!”

She lunged forward, and Spencer hid from her behind Derek. It was silly but she could tell how much he liked Halloween, he had talked about it all week, and she couldn’t help but adopt a lispy vampire voice to go with her costume. Though the boy was only two year younger than them, his thin frame and wide eyed expression made him seem much younger.

“Your teeth are excellent,” Spencer pointed out, “Very realistic.”

“I don’t get the hype about Halloween,” Derek said, “Disguises? Pass. Horror movies? No thank you.”

“Booooooo,” Emily protested, “Don’t be a buzzkill, Morgan. Let us have a little fun.”

The door opened again, and Penelope, followed by JJ, joined them.

“Is my statuesque god of sculpted chocolate thunder being lame again?”

“He barely dressed up,” Emily complained.

“Neither did Hotch!” Derek said, gesturing to Hotch’s devil horns.

“Hey, at least I bought these at the party store,” Hotch said, “I’m sure both of those are items from your own closet.”

Derek did not confirm or deny this. Emily knew he wore the same get up last year.

“So when should we be there?” JJ asked.

She was dressed as a witch, with an oversized pointy hat perched on top of her head, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders in perfect curls. She wore a purple dress and tall boots to go with her witch look. She and Penelope joined Spencer on the floor, sitting with their backs to Derek’s closet and cracking open a beer for JJ and a fruity cooler for Penelope.

With large wings, glittery make up and an adorable skirt, Penelope was clearly dressed up as a fairy, which was entirely apropos to who she was as a person. In fact, it was not entirely dissimilar from her normal outfits.

“Rossi said to come by eight,” Hotch said, “So in party talk he means nine-thirty earliest.”

“It’s, what?” Derek checked the time on his laptop, “Eight fifteen now, so we can pre here for an hour or so then start walking over.”

“Yeah,” Hotch said, “His house is just off campus.”

“The weather is crazy out,” Penelope said, looking out the window. The trees were swaying and the leaves were blowing everywhere.

“We could take a cab?” Emily offered, “I’d rather avoid getting leaves in my hair tonight.”

There were some nods, then they got back to preing, playing a few rounds of King’s Cup to ensure that all of them were sufficiently drunk before they left.

Morgan put on his new playlist, not “For The Boys (and emily)” this time, but one titled “Team Vibez” that Emily had seen him make during their lecture on Thursday. It had a lot of his normal songs, some top hits, but a few fun pop songs that Emily knew he added for Penelope, and even some classic rock for Hotch.

At this point, Emily was feeling buzzed. She had two cans discarded in the bin, both hosting lipstick prints from her dark red vampire lips.

JJ was currently chatting with Hotch about some student government scandal that was happening at the time. While politics gave Emily the heebie jeebies, she had reluctantly joined the Criminology Academic Society. It would give her a leg up on grad school applications, for one, and so far, even as a low-level member, she found she was actually making a difference for her classmates. This meant that Emily, despite her deepest urges to not touch political scandals with a ten foot pole, knew exactly what they were talking about.

As the two discussed the student politicians—there were some minor accusations of nepotism, embezzlement and coverups by the undergraduate executive—Emily looked at JJ. Her brows were furrowed in concentration and she was gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked about how badly they were handling their crisis communications.

Suddenly, interrupting this discussion, their phones blasted out a siren, followed by a chorus of the same robot voice announcing an emergency alert.

“National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 10:15PM EST,” the robot announced, “Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building.”

They looked at Derek’s three, large windows, and watched as large gusts of wind sent leaves barrelling down the street.

“If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris,” it continued. “Check media.”

Then, their phones went silent and Derek’s music continued unheeded.

“A tornado?!” Penelope said, “Here?”

The window rattled. Derek stood up and hesitantly moved away from it.

Penelope grabbed Derek’s computer, her hands moving in a flurry.

“Ok so,” she began, “from what I can gather from the good old Internet, we’re in a region of extreme winds and the meteorologists are thinking that funnel clouds and tornados are possible this evening.”

“So much for Halloween,” Spencer whined.

“Party is definitely off,” Hotch said. “We should probably take shelter. Is there a basement here?”

“There’s the laundry room?” Emily said.

Adrenaline started pulsing through her veins. She’d been through some severe weather before in her life but never a tornado, nor did she expect one. They were in the north east, nowhere near tornado Alley.

They all stood, making a move for the basement, when the lights flickered once, twice, then shut off entirely. Rain begin to fall down, hard onto the windows, and the boom of thunder filled their ears.

“Shit,” Emily said. “Anyone have a candle?”

---

Ten minutes later, the six of them were seated in a circle, on the strange carpeted floor of the laundry room, with the severe weather making the wind howl outside. Between JJ’s two candles, which were very against the rules, and Derek’s laptop screen, they had enough ambient light to see, but it was all very spooky.

The room smelled damp and earthy, with a strange combination of laundry soaps and dryer sheets. They had to move a spare sock to form a circle around the candle. It looked very much like a séance, so that did fit the Halloween spirit.

“Well,” Hotch said, “At least this is festive.”

Derek was still queuing his music, filling the silence with his DJ skills.

“Aren’t you worried about your battery life?” JJ asked, “What if the power doesn’t come on in the morning.”

“Then I have a great excuse not to finish my essay,” Derek said with a shrug.

“Fair point.”

“Anyways,” Derek continued, “No sense giving up on our party. We have drinks, we have music and thanks to JJ we have illegal candles.”

“They’re not illegal!” She protested, “Simply very against res rules! I like lighting a candle while I study.”

“It’s lucky that there was no one left in res because of Halloween,” Emily said. “Or we would've had a bunch of party crashers.”

“This is better,” Penelope, “Team bonding!”

“What should we play?” Hotch said, “we don’t really have much to work with.”

“This is all very high school,” Penelope said, “A couple of kids, in a basement, sitting in a circle on the floor…”

“With a tornado tearing through our city…” Emily quipped.

“Statistically speaking for this region we are more likely to experience dangerous winds rather than an actual tornado. Worst case is that fallen tree branches hit power lines, or fall onto houses or cars.”

“So you’re saying that we’re in the worst case scenario right now?” Hotch said.

“Yup.”

Hotch frowned.

“How about we play truth or dare?” Penelope changed the subject.

“I’m down,” Emily said, surprising herself. “If everyone else is.”

“I’ve never played!” Spencer said.

“Never?” JJ asked. “Not at any sleepovers.”

“I didn’t get invited to many sleepovers.”

“Neither did I,” Emily admitted, “Some parties I went to played it too.”

JJ looked at her, there was a brief look of sympathy, and then understanding on her face. Emily made note of that.

“I guess we’re playing,” Hotch murmured.

“Derek,” Penelope purred, “Mon cher, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he said defiantly, bracing himself with a swig of whatever was in his water bottle.

“Who is the prettiest fairy in the basement?”

“You, of course,” he replied with a wink.

“Gross!” Emily exclaimed, “Truth or dare is not for flirting. Hotch: truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“Show us the… most embarrassing photo of you on your phone.”

He frowned.

“I don’t take many photos.”

“Try,” Emily urged with a laugh.

He fumbled in his pockets, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his photo album for a few minutes.

“It’s from high school,” Hotch said with a sigh. “I was in a play.”

He held up a photo of him in a pirates outfit, he looked smaller, younger than he did now. His hair was shaggy and his face rounder. He was pointing the sword at the camera.

“Who’s the girl?” JJ asked.

“My girlfriend Hayley,” Hotch said, “we’re long distance now. I joined the play to get close to her and it seems to have worked.”

“That’s not embarrassing,” Penelope said, “that’s adorable. Try again.”

“Oh I have one!” Emily said, pulling up her Snapchat memories. She had a photo of him conked out in a lecture last year. His mouth was open and his head conked back, fast asleep in a dimly lit lecture hall. Emily had taken a series of these photos before waking him up.

“Now that’s what i'm talking about,” Derek said.

“How can you fall asleep during lecture?” Spencer asked in horror.

Hotch shrugged.

“I was tired, we had a game the night before,” Hotch said. “Morgan: Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I don’t know any dares,” Hotch looked around for help.

“He could play the tinder game?” Emily said.

“What tinder game?”

“Oh that’s a good one,” JJ said, “Derek opens tinder and we randomly tell him which way to swipe and see who he matches with.”

Derek groaned. Opening the app and placing it down onto the carpet.

“Right!” JJ said to start.

A match.

“Left?” Hotch said, it came out more like a question.

“Right,” Emily said. Another match.

Left, right, left, right. New message from a recent match, left, right, right, right, right. Derek looked on in horror.

“Ok I think he’s had enough,” Emily said with a laugh.

“Derek it’s your turn,” Penelope said.

Derek sighs in relief.

“Uhhh, Pretty Boy,” he turned to Reid. Thinking for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”

“Smoked what? Cannabis, tobacco? Something else. Be specific.”

Emily’s jaw dropped.

“I dunno man,” Derek said, “I was talking about weed but go off.”

“I have.”

“How?” JJ said, “You’re like sixteen! I haven’t even smoked weed.”

“Me neither,” Penelope said, sounding outright disappointed.

“I believe it,” Hotch said. “He has a Juul.”

“Seventeen now,” Spencer said. “Kids in my first degree found it funny when I performed actions that they deemed mature for my young age.

“What?” Penelope said. “But you were sixteen last week.”

“It was my birthday on Wednesday,” he said.

“And we missed it?” JJ asked.

Emily decided not to inform them that her birthday had been a few weeks back as well.

“It’s no big deal,” Spencer said, “I don’t really do birthdays.”

“Well I do birthdays!” Penelope said, “and you’re getting one.”

Emily could see the gears turning in Penelope’s head.

“Wait you haven’t smoked weed?” Emily said. She didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but hell, it was college.

“I’ve never been offered,” Penelope said with a shrug.

“You have a Juul, Spence?” JJ said.

He shrugged.

“Anyways,” Derek said with a laugh. “Reid it’s your turn to ask.”

And the game continued roughly the same for a few more rounds, with some truths, some dares, a lot of drinking and a fair amount of laughter.

Emily learned that JJ likes some angry rock music when she’s upset, that Penelope has committed several federal crimes, that Reid used to coach basketball in high school, that Derek has been posing nude for art classes on campus for extra cash, and that Hotch has never successfully completed a word search in his life.

The dares were limited, because frankly they were basically hiding out in a basement during what might actually be a tornado. Emily was dared to do an impression of Hotch, which wasn’t good and involved a lot of eyebrows and frowning. After, JJ was forced to leave her snapchat at Garcia’s mercy for the entire night. Other dares involved dancing, attempting gymnastics, and seeing whether or not Reid fit into the dryer. He did.

The game finally had played out when it was Hotch’s turn again to ask.

“JJ, what’s your greatest fear?” Hotch asked.

“Mr. Serious over here,” Derek said with a whistle.

“Probably the woods,” JJ replied.

“Why?” Spencer asked, tilting his head.

JJ grabbed a candle, holding it under her chin much like Reid did earlier.

“I used to be a camp counselor, when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont.”

She leaned forward. Emily didn’t know she worked at a camp. It made sense. She pictured her in a camp t-shirt making a bracelet. It suited her.

“I had the night shift. I tucked the girls in, turned off the lights. The typical drill. Everything seemed fine; all the kids were asleep. You know, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

Another dramatic pause, both Spencer and Derek had leaned in, invested in the story.

“Until I noticed there was some blood, on the hallway floor. So, I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying there, underneath his covers. Dead!”

Penelope gasped. The room was silent.

“Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall. I just remember it… being really dark. Once I got to the door, there was another counselor there. I guess she heard me scream.”

JJ set the candle down, looking at the flame flicker. This couldn’t be real, Emily thought, this had to be a joke.

“They caught the caretaker on his way to town, I guess he still had the knife on him.”

“Anyway, I guess that’s probably when I decided I didn’t like the woods.”

“You’re serious?!” Derek demanded.

“No!” JJ said with a laugh. “You bought that! I’m kidding!”

“So are you afraid of the woods?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said, “They’re spooky I don’t know.”

They all laughed at that.

Emily glanced at her phone; they had been down here for almost two hours. According to Penelope’s intermittent checks on the status of the extreme weather, most of the city was experiencing black outs, but there was no sign of an actual tornado. They were still supposed to take shelter for the next hour or so, just in case.

In this time, Emily was close to five drinks in, with only one left in the basement. A growing pile of empties had built up around them, and Hotch had pulled out a small bottle of whiskey in addition to his beer, passing it around the circle. Having recently turned 17, the group had officially decided to give Spencer a beer, which he nursed slowly, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Emily,” JJ turned to her and looked mischievous. “Truth or dare?”

She felt her heart flutter.

“Truth.”

“Hmmm…” JJ said, “Where was the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?”

Emily found herself blushing at the memory.

“Oh god,” Emily buried her face in her hands. “IHOP parking lot.”

“What?”

Emily nodded, downing the last of her beer.

“No further questions,” she proclaimed as she opened her next drink.

“I think that should conclude Truth or Dare,” Penelope said, “It’s time for another sleepover classic, since some of you are sleepover virgins.”

She grabbed Derek’s water bottle, plopping it down onto the carpet and spun it.

“Spin the bottle!”

Emily went pale. What was Penelope doing? She stared into her drunk, not daring to look at anyone else.

“That doesn’t seem very sanitary,” Spencer said.

“Boo,” Penelope, “You’re no fun. It’s a classic! And we’re all friends, it’ll be fun. Hotch you spin first.”

He looked horrified, but took the bottle. There was no getting in the way of Penelope Garcia’s will.

“The rules are simply: kiss or you have to finish your drink?,” Penelope said, “Got it?

Hotch nodded, he spun the bottle. It went around the circle, once, twice, three times, then landed clearly on himself.

“How do I kiss myself?” he said, deadpan.

“Drink!” Emily told him. He downed his last beer.

Derek spun next, rubbing his hands together nervously as it went around and around. It landed on Penelope.

“Come here, chocolate thunder!”

Derek took his baseball cap off, turning it backwards. Penelope pulled his shirt towards her, tugging on him as their lips met. They both closed their eyes, she could hear JJ giggle at the sight.

“Was that the only reason we’re playing this?” Spencer asked, “So that you could kiss Morgan?”

“Maybe?” Penelope, “What’s it to you, boy-genius!”

He put his hands up in surrender, it was his turn.

He spun the bottle awkwardly, so that it rocked back and forth in addition to spinning. It went around once before landing on JJ.

Emily wasn’t sure what to think about that. On one hand, he was just a kid and the kiss wouldn't be anything, but on the other hand, Emily was jealous that she didn’t get a kiss.

“Come here, Spence!” JJ said, making a grabbing motion at the boy and laughing.

He leaned in with his eyes closed, Emily wouldn’t be surprised if he told them he hadn’t done even this before. JJ put a hand on his face, turned it gently, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Derek clapped him on the back and made a comment about it being ‘pretty boy’s first kiss,’ and Reid simply sat and blushed as he busied himself with drinking some of his beer.

Emily’s turn. She tried not to cross her fingers and pray for JJ, but it happened anyways. It landed on Derek. Emily sighed dramatically.

“Ewwww,” Emily mock protested.

“Come on, princess,” Derek jeered, “You know you want some of this!”

He lifted his t-shirt up and rubbed his hands down his abs.

“Put that away sir!” she covered her eyes.

“Oh come here,” she said, leaning in. They kissed on the lips with a loud ‘mwah!’ noise.

“That was cute,” Hotch commented.

Emily fake gagged, while Morgan tried to wipe her red lipstick off him.

Last was JJ in the circle. She spun it casually. Emily tried to read her facial expression, wondering if JJ, too, wanted it to land on Emily.

See, Emily was starting to believe that JJ liked her back. She was single, and for all Emily knew, she was straight, but the more Emily got to know her, she got queer vibes. She played soccer! Her nails were short and-

Emily couldn’t think of any other things that moment, as she was currently freaking out about the spin the bottle situation that was presently unfolding.

The moment in the bathroom, Emily thought, that was something! The way she looked at Emily… she was sure that she felt JJ’s eyes on her linger.

The bottle landed on Emily. They had to kiss. It was part of the game.

Holy shit.

Penelope squealed and Emily could feel the entire room's eyes on her, except JJ whose eyes were on the ground.

Emily could hear her heartbeat. She desperately wanted to kiss JJ but did she want to under these circumstances? For a dare?

JJ looked at her. Blue eyes staring into brown. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears. She found herself leaning forward, only slightly. JJ did the same. Her lips parted, her eyes hungry.

Emily shifted forward, she sat with her legs tucked under her, bracing herself with her arms. JJ was cross legged, her arms free to grab at her face. JJ’s hands tugged her forward.

Their lips met.

It was uncertain, chaste, soft. Then, JJ’s hands pulled her closer. They were pressed together, heads tilting so that their noses didn’t bump.

Jennifer Jareau was kissing her. They were kissing!

Emily’s brain short circuited. JJ filled her senses; the blonde’s vanilla perfume and soft lips and the taste of alcohol on her tongue.

Oh god, her tongue.

Emily did not want it to end. Their mouths opened and their tongues slid against each other, feeling so perfect and sending Emily’s blood racing away from her face and noticeably south.

JJ was incredibly hot and Emily desperately wanted to do more than kiss her. Or kiss her like this forever. Her ams were caressing her cheek and tangled in Emily’s hair, pulling her closer.

The lights flickered on; they had power, again. JJ pulled away from her, sharply.

Emily sat back, sitting up straight. The room was luckily too distracted by the lights to notice how out of breath Emily was. Or that they probably shouldn’t have passionately made out on a dare.

JJ wouldn’t meet her eye, but Emily could see her own lipstick on the other girl’s lips. Emily blinked at the bright light, started by the sudden return of the electricity after she had become accustomed to the dim light of the candle.

“What impressive timing,” Spencer murmured.

Taking the lights as a good sign, Penelope checked on the emergency alert. It was over and they were safe to go back upstairs. She found out that a few downed trees were the cause of the outage and there was never an actual tornado. No one was hurt but there was a bit of property damage throughout the city.

Without the atmosphere of the candle light, and the likelihood of a RA doing a check of the building, they decided that that was the end of their party. They gathered up their empties, and blew out the candles.

As they finished up cleaning, all making sure not to leave any trace of their illicit affairs, Emily tried to quell her racing heart and blushing face, completely unable to look anyone in the eye.

The door opened, their RA was there. Erin Strauss. She was a hardass.

“What are you all doing down here?” she demanded.

They all stood, stock still, jaws dropped, smelling of alcohol and clutching clinking tote bags.

“Erin,” Emily said, trying to sound as sober as possible despite the five plus drinks in her system, “We were simply following the directions on the emergency alert.”

“Yes! It said to seek shelter from the storm and the basement seemed the best for that,” Penelope said.

“Uhuh,” Erin said, “What’s in the bag?”

The bag clinked.

“Oh just some garbage,” Emily said, lying through her teeth. “We had some snacks.”

“Sure,” Erin said, not believing them.

Emily tried not to sway, but did not feel steady on her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or her recent kiss with JJ.

For a second, Emily was sure that their RA would bust their asses, but the girl simply sighed and told them to go to bed, muttering about how dealing with non-existent tornadoes wasn't part of her job.

The six of them scurried upstairs, all freaked out about their near-miss with a write-up.

Reid disappeared up to his room, then JJ and Penelope walked down the hall to their’s. Emily slipped into Derek’s avoiding Erin Strauss’ watchful eye, helping Derek steady a very drunk Hotch.

Hotch, who had probably had a little too much of that whiskey, stumbled into Derek’s room and decided to sleep on the floor. Emily placed a water bottle next to him, and placed him in recovery position, glad for the distraction from the blush that refused to leave her face or the lingering taste of JJ on her lips.

She walked slowly down the hall back to her own room, the events of that evening playing back in her mind. She threw herself onto her bed, dazed by her situation.

Emily fell asleep with vampire make up still on her face that night.

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #gravelyhumerus cm college au #prentiss x jj #jemily cm #fanfiction #fanfic #criminal minds fic #my post #my writing #this is such a chaotic chapter!!!#enjoy!!!!

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houseof-harry · 4 years

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What Happens in Jersey | G.D.

A/N - hey guys! this is my first time posting anything I’ve written on tumblr so pls forgive me if it’s total shit. I’m super excited to hear any feedback and if you would be interested in a second part or something!!!

Word count: 5K

Warnings: smut

Summary - Y/N is in New Jersey with her college friend for the week of New Years. She takes a particular liking to Grayson Dolan, but only plans for it to be a one time thing. But things never go as planned.

It would be safe to say you were a bit of a nomad. You had grown up in a small town and decided to go to college far away from there. Once you left, your parents wanted out too. However, you never had any interest in sitting in the middle of the mountains with them while you were on breaks, so you found yourself bouncing around from place to place, never really staying with anyone for more than a couple of weeks.

That’s how you ended up in New Jersey with your best friend from school. Jessie was kind enough to let you stay with him the last few weeks of your winter break. You were excited because after spending time with your whole family, you would finally be able to just hang out with your friends again. Or Jessie’s friends, rather.

You and Jessie were seniors this year, and you had no idea where post-graduation would take you. That’s why you’re soaking up every minute with him while you can. His friends were all super welcoming of you and have made you feel like you were meant to be there with them all the time. After hanging out with them all week, you were exciting to be spending New Year’s Eve with them, too.

“Do you know what you’re going to wear for New Year’s yet?” Jessie asks, pulling you from your train of thought.

“No, I still have to go through what I brought with me. How fancy do you guys usually go?”

“It’s pretty casual. The girls wear jeans and a cute top, nothing crazy. I’m gonna wear jeans and a t-shirt.” He shrugs, looking back down at his phone. You walk over to your bag to look for the perfect top. You were hoping that one of his friends would finally make a pass at you, so you wanted to dress the part. Not just any of his friends, though. Grayson Dolan specifically.

Grayson had been particularly nice to you since you’d come to town. You hoped you weren’t reading into it too much and that he was actually interested because if you were being honest, it had been a minute since you’d had any action. That’s all you needed. No strings, not even a second night together. Just something to end the dry spell that came along with the stress of trying to graduate college.

You pulled out a gold sequined top. It showed plenty of chest without being too scandalous and always looked good paired with the black jeans you had packed. You pulled the jeans out along with a pair of heels and got Jessie’s attention.

“Do you think this’ll look good?” You ask him, looking down at the outfit and then back up at him.

“Yeah, that top always looks good on you. Who’re you trying to impress?” He jokes, already knowing the answer. Jessie is always up to date on your romantic life (or lack of one), and could tell immediately that you had taken a liking to Grayson. He seemed to think Grayson had taken a similar liking to me, which is the whole reason you have your hopes up in the first place.

“You know why.” You roll your eyes and put the clothes on top of your bag.

“He’s gonna go crazy for you in that, don’t worry.” Jessie let out a bit of a sigh before you stood up.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Movie after before we go to bed?” You ask.

“Sure.” He responds, not looking up from his phone.

You go to the bathroom, ignoring the frown that seemed to be on his face.

***

You were finishing putting on your mascara when Jessie walks into the room.

“Ready to go?” He asks you while looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his shirt.

“I guess so.” You finish and put your makeup away, standing up and twirling around. “How’s the finished look?”

He gives my body a once over, his eyes lingering on the shape of my body. “Good,” is all he says.

“Just good?”

“Y/N, you always look amazing, you know what I meant.” He rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, let’s go.” You say, choosing to ignore his gesture with his eyes. You walk down the stairs and outside, grabbing your jacket on the way. Ethan and Grayson are waiting outside in their car. When they see you approach, Ethan opens the window to greet you guys.

“There they are. Ready for a new year?” He asks as you approach.

“More than you know.” You smile at him and Jessie opens the back door. You climb in and slide over so he can get in too. You shiver and close your jacket more, holding it tight to your body. Grayson smiles at you guys through the rear-view mirror and that’s it. Maybe you had been reading too far into his kindness.

“Whose house are we going to again?” You ask.

“Drew’s. His parents are at their friend’s house in Rhode Island,” Jessie says. You nod, clearly not remembering which one Drew is. “The one who goes to Penn State,” he clarifies.

“Oh, right.” You smile at him.

The car falls quiet for a while, which is unusual for you and Jessie and you can only assume it’s even more odd for Ethan and Grayson, but you guess everyone is tired and needs a moment of silence before entering the hectic last couple of hours of this year.

“We’re almost there,” Ethan says as he turns into a residential area. It feels like he’s trying to calm the weird tension in the car, but you don’t know why it’s so awkward to start.

Before you can question it further, Ethan pulls up behind a bunch of other cars parked on the street and he turns the car off. You hop out on Grayson’s side and shut the door. You both wait for the other boys to walk around the side of the car before you head down the street.

“So, you’re not gonna drink?” You ask Grayson, who you had fallen into step next to.

“I haven’t decided yet. Ethan probably won’t, though, that’s why we offered to drive you and Jess in the first place.” He gives you a smile and you nod back.

“I can’t lie, after my New Year’s Eve record I probably should chill too.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe I won’t drink much tonight, either. It would be cool to remember the beginning of this year.”

Grayson laughs while rubbing his mouth with his hand. “Do you not remember the past few New Year’s?”

“Not fully, no. I’m not even a crazy drinker, but there’s something about New Year’s that makes me want tequila like it’s water. And tequila never ends well.” You shudder, thinking about all the times it’s done you wrong.

“Yeah, maybe it’s more of a champagne year for you.” He nudges you with your shoulder.

“Maybe you’re right.” You nod as you walk into the house.

***

It’s safe to say it was not just a champagne night for you. You were 5 shots in at 11 pm when you decided to cool it. Well, cool it the best you could. You weren’t trashed but you also definitely weren’t sober.

“How’s your champagne?” Grayson walks over to you while you’re sitting on the couch alone, watching everyone else interact.

“Unless champagne has started to taste like tequila, then not very good.” You laugh at your own joke, covering your mouth. He laughs as well, and you can’t tell if it’s with you or at you.

“Do you think you’ll remember tonight?” He raises his eyebrow, sipping from his own cup.

“Oh yeah, I’m about half as drunk as I was last year. I think the issue is that tequila makes me way too brave, one shot or ten” you sigh, looking at him. He looks good tonight. His long hair really suits his sharp facial features. His light facial hair makes him look a bit older than he is, but in a good way. A hot way. And his lips look pink and soft, and you could just lean up and kiss them if you really wanted to. You shake your head as if that will physically remove the thoughts from your brain.

“What?” He giggles, watching your every move.

You’re looking at him with your mouth open now. You can see the flush of his cheeks and the drowsiness of his eyes. You gasp. “Are you drunk?”

He stutters for a moment and you grab the cup from his hand, giving it a sniff.

“Is this a vodka soda?” You give it a sip, feeling the bubbles of the soda go down your throat with the bite of the vodka mixed with it. “Living on the wild side tonight, I see. Is Ethan still good?” You laugh, handing him his cup back.

“Ethan is not in the most sober state, either. And you know Jessie is already messed up. I think we might all just sleep here, if that’s okay.” His eyes scan the room before he slumps back, unable to find his brother or his friend. You lean back right next to him, your shoulders touching.

“Yeah, that’s okay. You’re gonna have to steal clothes from Drew for me to sleep in, though.” You look at his side profile, scanning his face. He really did look good tonight. You see his cheeks heat up a bit more.

“What’re you looking at?” He asks, now turning to face you, too.

“Your cheeks get really red when you’re tipsy.” You giggle, poking his cheek. His nose is almost so close you could touch it with yours.

“It’s not because of the vodka.” He says rather confidently. You raise your brow.

“Oh yeah? What is it then?”

“The pretty girl sitting next to me on the couch.” He turns to face forwards again with a bit of a smirk, sipping from his cup again. You can feel heat rushing to your face and chest. His eyes drift over to you again. “Clearly it happens to you too.” He sounds a bit victorious in his declaration, and you don’t know if it’s your brain or the tequila that tells you what to say next.

“Kiss me.” You blurt out and then quickly cover your mouth. Yeah, it was definitely the tequila who said it.

He sucks in a breath and looks at you again, his eyes dark. “It’s only 11:30, you’re gonna have to wait another half hour for that.” With that, he stands and walks back into his group of friends, leaving you shocked on the couch.

***

Everything past midnight is a blur. Not because of the extra tequila shot you took after your conversation with Grayson, but because of the kiss he gave you after the countdown. It was hot, needy, and purposeful. It didn’t take long after that for everyone to decide where they were sleeping and settle down. Most people were too drunk to even care if they slept in a bed or not. Jessie told you he would get a guest bed for you to share, but you don’t even remember where he said to go because Grayson was looking at you from across the room and everything else disappeared. You nodded at Jessie so that he’d walk away and you could finally go talk to the man whose consumed your mind all night.

“Excited for your sleepover with Jessie?” He asks sarcastically while keeping the charming smile on his face still.

You shrug. “I mean I guess. There’s a different sleepover I’d be more excited for, though.” You do your best to keep your gaze at him innocent while you bite your lip.

“Oh yeah? Which one is that?” He moves to stand next to you as if to survey the room to see who you want to be in bed with tonight.

“Oh my god you’re really gonna make me say it out loud, aren’t you?” You laugh, crossing your arms and turning to look at him again.

“Say what? I’m just an innocent man trying to help a pretty girl out.” He does his best to hide smile but fails. This is the second time he’s called you pretty tonight, and it is definitely the second time it has made you feel butterflies.

“Shut up and show me where you’re sleeping.” You nudge him with your shoulder.

“Unfortunately, I think Ethan and I are being forced to sleep on the living room couch together.” He rubs the back of his head, his confidence faltering for a second.

“Well then that’s what bathrooms are for, right?” You sound hopeful while trying not to be desperate. You don’t want to sound too needy before he’s even taken your pants off.

He smirks at you, putting his hand on the small of your back to start guiding you up the stairs. “You read my mind.” Before you know it, he’s opening the door to a large bathroom and letting you go in first.

You look at your surroundings, taking in the fancy bathroom décor that you thought was unnecessary but still nice. Grayson stood behind you, watching you look around the room. “Are we here to admire the shell soap?” He chuckles.

You turn to him. “What, you don’t think it’s cute?” You giggle, picking up one of the shells to hold between you two.

“I mean sure, but I’ve got my eye on something else in here.” He wraps one hand around your waist, turning you both to face the mirror. You can feel his bulge when you press back against him, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

“Is it the seahorse soap dispenser?” You bite your lip and put the shell pack where you grabbed it from.

“You’re really gonna make me say it out loud?” He mocks you, a humorous glint in his eyes.

You put your arms over his one on your abdomen. “I guess you didn’t make me.” You smile, turning in his grasp. You put both your hands on his shoulders while leaning back on the counter. Grayson puts his hands on your hips, taking a step closer to you. You can feel his warm breath on your face as you are forced to tilt your head up more to keep eye contact with him.

“I can still say it if you really wanna hear it.” He leans closer to you, nipping at your ear. You take in a breath, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve got my eye on the pretty little thing that I plan to fuck on this counter until she forgets what year it is.”

This instantly makes you giggle. “It works in your favor it’s a new year, I already forgot about it.”

“Now that I’ve reminded you, let’s make you forget again.” And that’s when you knew you were fucked in the best way possible. His lips dragged along your jaw to your mouth, kissing you like you were the only girl in the world. You fully wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you as he kisses you deep and hard. His hands travel down to your ass, pulling your center as close to him as possible. After he gives you a squeeze he brings one of his hands around to start unbuttoning your jeans. You pull your mouth away from his for a moment, leaving both of you breathless.

“You’re okay with this, right? You’re not too messed up right now or anything?” He asks as he rests his forehead on yours. Your hands go down his shoulders to rub his arms. A smile manages to show up on your face.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?”

He laughs before looking back you. “More than good.” And with that he’s kissing you again.

Grayson does his best to finish unbuttoning your pants while still keeping your lips connected. Once he is successful, he breaks away from you to go down and take your heels off. He struggles a bit with the straps, making your giggle.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, huh?” You tease him, lifting your foot when he finally gets one off.

“That was fucking stupid,” he groans, already focusing on your other shoe. He manages to slip that one off quicker than the last, his hands now eagerly going into the loops of your jeans to pull them off as well.

Before you know it, he’s standing between your legs again and his lips are moving along your neck, his hands holding your hips in place. You tilt your head back to give him more room to work his lips, gripping his biceps. Grayson takes a second to breathe, his breath heating your skin up as you think about what he’s going to do to you. He takes this moment to remove your shirt over your head.

When he was met with your bare skin, his eyes popped out of his head. “Here’s to starting the new year off right,” he laughs, barely giving you a second to react to what he said before your nipple was in his mouth. You head falls back as you let out a quiet moan, gripping the back of his head. He moves one of his hands to roll your neglected nipple between his fingers, causing you to moan again but louder this time. “Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he mumbles against your chest.

“Sorry, just feels good,” you breathe out, closing your eyes.

“Pull on my hair when it feels good,” he mumbles, slowly moving to his knees in between your legs. This makes you roll your head forward to watch as he takes in the wet spot covering your center. “How long have you been thinking about me?” He smirks at you.

“Are you gonna question it or are you gonna do something about it?” You giggle, securing your hand in the back of his hair, pushing him forward and closer to your core.

“You’re right, I’ll take what I can get,” he huffs out onto your inner thigh, leaving light kisses there. If he was being honest, he hadn’t gotten any in a while either. Grayson was just as eager as you to be with you like this. That’s why he didn’t waste any time swiping his tongue over your slit, still being able to taste you despite the layer of lace between you two. He lets out a guttural moan, loving the fact he was between your legs right now. He wasted no time in tapping your thighs to get you to lift yourself up enough for him to take your panties off. As the cold air hits you, your legs instantly try to shut. Grayson tisks, shaking his head and pushing you wide open, gripping your thighs tightly with his calloused hands.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, his eyes not leaving your pussy.

“We don’t have to do that whole thing if you don’t wanna,” you mumble, your cheeks heating up.

“What whole thing?” Grayson looks up at you, confused.

“You don’t have to compliment me and stuff,” you look away from him, starring at the wall.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your leg, his eyes soft when you meet them again. “Everything I say, I mean. And I’m saying it because I want to, not because I think you wanna hear it,” he smiles up at you. You take a second to breathe, not expecting to hear that from him. No guy you had slept with had ever been so considerate before. Hell, none of them had ever been ready to eat you out.

You let out a flustered, “thanks,” before his focus was back on your core. He licks slowly up from your hole to your clit, making you grip his hair a bit harder already. He focuses on your clit, sucking and licking it like it’s his last meal. It takes everything in you not to moan loudly, but you manage to just breathe harder instead. Grayson moves one of his hands to your slit, his fingers running up and down while he continues to lap at your clit. It’s when he slides one of his fingers in when you let out a whine, gripping his hair so hard he can’t help but let out a groan of his own. He pumps his finger in and out slowly, making you go crazy. “More, faster, anything,” you breathe out, shifting your hips around.

Grayson removes his lips from you while continuing the movement of his finger. He looks up at you. “Feeling greedy, pretty girl?” He smirks as he stands up, removing finger and causing you to pout. It hits you how he is still completely dressed while you’re totally naked.

“Take your clothes off,” you bite your lip, ignoring his comment. Your own hand goes between your legs, rubbing over your clit gently.

Grayson’s eyes bug out while he watches your movement, before he snaps out of it and pulls his shirt off over his head. He quickly throws it down and begins to work at his pants as you start to squirm. All of a sudden, he stops, his pants around his knees. “Do you have a condom?”

“Me? No. You don’t?” You ask, your fingers slowing as reality begins to hit you.

“Are you on the pill?” He asks hopefully.

You look away for a moment, not really sure what to say. Of course you were, but you don’t know this kid. Raw dogging it on the first date isn’t really your style. Hell, this isn’t even a date.

“I’m clean,” he brings you back to reality, reading your thoughts. You lean back, deciding on what’s best to say next.

“I don’t know that for sure. And how do you know I’m clean?” You ask.

“Let’s make a deal. If we end up catching anything from each other, the person who caused it pays for whatever treatment the other needs,” he holds his hand out, ready to shake on it. You look at him like he’s crazy. “I know I’m not giving you anything, and as long as you’re as confident as me, you should be shaking my hand right about now.”

You hesitate before taking his hand in yours and shaking it twice before pulling him back between your legs. You push his underwear down to where his pants are, your jaw dropping when his dick finally comes out. You assumed he would be well endowed, but nothing like this. What if it didn’t fit?

He chuckles deeply, as if he can read your mind again. “Is that a good look of fear?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, looking up at him as you lick your hand before wrapping it around his base, pumping up and down a couple of times.

“Oh fuck,” he whines, gripping your thighs and closing his eyes for a minute. “No, no. Gonna fuck you,” he grips your wrist, taking your hand off him. Both of your hands move behind you as you lean back a bit, waiting for him to take charge again. Grayson wraps his hand around himself so that he can drag his tip up and down your slit. Before you can get used to the feeling he’s pushing in and you’re groaning. Loudly. So Grayson does what his instincts tell him to and he covers your mouth with his hand.

He leans in and whispers in your ear, “is this okay?” You nod as he bottoms out. Your eyes clamp shut as you take a second to adjust. His free hand moves to your thigh, rubbing It gently.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod again. He pulls out almost completely before slamming his hips back into you, making your eyes roll back into your head. He was stretching you out in the most delicious way, and Grayson felt it too. Your walls were hugging him so tightly, your juices dripping down onto the counter. He rests his forehead on yours, hand still clamped over your mouth as he does everything in his power not to moan. You just felt really good, he hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

His hand moves from your thigh to your clit while he continues to move in and out at a quick pace. Sweat begins to drip down his forehead, mixing with the sweat collecting on yours. You can feel his dick nudging that special spot inside you on every thrust and it’s overwhelming. You’re whining into his hand, breathing hard out of your nose. He’s still rubbing your clit at the same pace he’s fucking you and it’s the best combination. Your breathing quickens and he moves his mouth close to your ear. “You gonna cum?” You nod profusely, your toes curling as your heels dig into his ass to make sure he goes as deep as he can.

It feels like a wave of pleasure crashing over you when you finally cum. Your legs are shaking around Grayson’s waist as groans come from deep within your throat. He can feel you clenching around him, your juices continuing to flow out of you around him. He can feel it on his balls as it drips out of you and it makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. Soon he’s pulling out of you, the hand that was once covering your mouth going to his dick as his cum covers your stomach. You both sit there unmoving, just trying to catch your breaths. You rest back on your hands as you giggle a bit, finally looking at him.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks. This makes your cheeks even more red than they already were. No one had been concerned about you after you already finished sex. It was kind of nice.

“Really good,” you sigh out. “You?” You watch as he gets some tissues and he starts wiping his cum off you.

He smiles. “Really good,” he nods along as he finishes cleaning you up. When he goes to throw the tissues out, you laugh because he has to waddle due to his pants still being half on. You’re sliding off the counter when you have to hold the edges to not fall over. He turns to look at you confused. “What?”

“You never even got your pants off.”

He looks down and chuckles, pulling his pants back up, but not buttoning them. “Guess I didn’t.”

You start to pick up your clothes when you pause. You had nothing to sleep in here, and you weren’t about to sleep in the shirt and jeans you came in. Jessie would probably be down to give you his shirt, but he was also probably asleep.

“Here,” he hands his shirt to you. You look up at him for a second before you reach for the shirt.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, putting your clothes back down and slipping the shirt over your head. It barely hit the top of your thighs, but it’s better than walking around totally naked. You slip your panties on under the shirt. Grayson stands there a bit awkwardly, watching you get dressed. You grab your shirt and hand it out to him with a smirk on your face. “Wanna sleep in this?”

Grayson laughs and shakes his head. “Something tells me that would be uncomfortable,” he eyes the sequins, shivering while imagining them against his skin.

You giggle and nod, gathering your jeans and shoes into your hands. “You’re right, it’s not.”

You bite your lip, unsure if you should just say goodbye and dip or what. Grayson interrupts these thoughts when he steps up to you, grabbing your chin and kissing you one more time before he says, “I should probably head to bed.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“You were…this was…I enjoyed that,” he laughs. You smile at him as he walks out. You look out the door to make sure no one is there before you start opening every door to find where Jessie is. You slide into the bed as quietly as possible and fall right asleep.

***

Ethan and Grayson had left by the time you got up. One of Jessie’s other friends drove you guys home once you were ready to leave. Life went on as normal after that.

You and Jessie went back to school. Every semester feels like a nice fresh start, even with the sadness knowing it was your last. You and your friends at school were making every minute of it. Which is why you were disappointed when you were feeling under the weather a couple of weeks into it. You woke up every morning feeling fatigued and nauseous. You assumed it was the school work getting to you. Four years and you’d think you’d be better equipped to deal with the stress.

However, when you started throwing up every morning, you panicked. You throw up once in a blue moon. You have a stomach of steel. When that lasted for an entire week, you decided to go to the clinic. They ask all the usual questions, including if you think you’re pregnant. You tell them there’s a minimal chance but they decide to test you anyway just to be sure.

When the doctor walks back in, they have a smile on their face. “Your pregnancy test came back positive.”

Suddenly you felt nauseous again, but not like all the previous mornings. How could you be pregnant? He pulled out, you’re on birth control. And that’s when you remember. You didn’t take it a for a couple days after New Year’s Eve because you had run out of your current pack and your next pack was at school. You hadn’t noticed your missed period because your birth control had made it almost non-existent to start.

The doctor continues to speak but you only hear the blood rushing through your ears as pure panic sets in. You don’t even have Grayson’s number. He’s a fucking LA YouTuber, he wasn’t even on the same coast as you. You weren’t even friends.

As soon as you get out of the doctor, you call Jessie.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”

You’re blinking back the tears as you walk to your car. “I need to tell you something.”

***

Read part 2 here!

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