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aemondsbabe · 7 months

Text

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Do you?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.

“You.” It comes out as a breath.

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”

“None?”

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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silksongeveryday · 3 months

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Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 365!

1 year! One whole year of daily doodles!!

Honestly?? Idk how to feel, so much has happened since I first started this blog.

I guess I’ll just write what I’m thinking right now??

(Everything under the cut, this thing is longer than I expected)

A lot of this text probably isn’t going to make sense. I’m writing this at 1 am. If there’s any mistakes or errors that’s why. I’ll fix them in the morning maybe.

So like. This whole thing kinda started as a joke, I wasn’t intending to actually draw for a year straight lmao. Like I even used a completely different art style from my regular one that was simple, quick and intentionally dumb. Not that I’m upset by it, I’m actually quite proud of myself that I managed to stick to something for an entire year. That’s pretty unusual for me believe it or not. My original intention was to stop at maybe 20 days because I really wasn’t expecting for this blog to get as much love as it did.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so so much to everyone who has followed and supported this silly little idea I had, you guys are the biggest reason my experience has been so positive and worth it. (Sure it’s not original but I hope it’s at least been interesting!)

I’ve said this a few times now but I’ve mentioned wanting to take a break. I’ll admit that even though it’s been fun it’s still pretty tiring to keep up with this blog sometimes since some recent life events have made it so hard. After some thought, I’ve decided that I’ll likely take a break sometime in the coming months. Maybe toward day 400 or so. As of right now, things are at a lull so I’ve been okay enough mentally and physically to keep up this daily streak I think. Though this could change in an instant for whatever reason.

Overall I think my burnout has kind of gone away I think?? Or at least I’ve been reinvigorated recently after replaying a few runs of hk randomizer and steel soul. No promises it’ll stay away but I silly expect it to come in waves.

Ok but call me crazy or delusional or whatever, but my hopes are up that Silksong will release this year. (which means slowing down/not doing daily doodles yay) I genuinely believe big news is coming since I’ve been getting a lot of dreams lately about something happening with Silksong in March. Idk, I could be wrong but after doing this for a year I’m literally clinging onto anything right now lol

I’d obviously still make the occasional doodle or two when HKSS releases but not daily. This stuff is tough to keep up sometimes, I would never do daily posts like this again once it’s over

Oh yeah also I have an actual big drawing I’m still working on, expect that in sometime in the next few weeks I think!

Anyway, I can’t think of anything else to say right now so I guess that’s it for now!

Thanks so much and here’s to more doodles!

#silksongeveryday #ssed #hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart

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harryslittlefreakk · 4 months

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boyfriends

an extra for late night talking!

summary: a tiny fluffy blurb of harry’s first interview since meeting you, and taking your relationship further 🫶🏼

warnings: pure fluff!!!

a/n: just a little taste of late night talking harry & y/n. more is coming!! i didn’t want to post this just yet but i cannot get the other ones done 🥲

you can join my taglist here! and find much better writing here!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

harry: it’ll be on in 5 😘

You turned up the radio, ready to hear Harry’s beautiful voice. It was his first interview since you’d started dating, and honestly you were quite excited to see if you’d come up. You hoped you wouldn’t, hating how quick people were to invade his privacy, but in the event that they did ask about you, you were curious to see what he’d say. After the last round of photos hit the headlines people had started to mention your resemblance to ‘kiwi girl’, though no one had really put two and two together yet. After all, with a history of dating supermodels, no one would suspect Harry would fall for a fan. Just as you got lost in your thoughts, the radio host's voice came on, introducing Harry for the interview. Even though the radio, his voice awakened the butterflies in your stomach.

He spoke about the success of Love on Tour, the millions of fans who’d seen his shows, the thousands of lives and people he’d touched. Then, he was asked about his personal life, and you held your breath, waiting to hear what he’d say about you. “And your new girlfriend, am I right in saying she’s a fan?”

“I’d hope all my girlfriends have been fans of my music.” You could almost hear the coy smirk playing on Harry’s lips.

“But yes, she is a fan. Although I’m a far bigger fan of her than she is of me,” Harry told the presenter. You smiled at his words, feeling your heart flutter with warmth.

“You seem very smitten in the photos we’ve seen, can you tell us a bit about her?" The radio host pressed, and you gripped onto your mug, eager to hear what he said. The questions were starting to get a little too personal, and it was totally vain of you, but you were completely giddy. You knew how much Harry liked you, knew how fondly he spoke about you to family and friends, but hearing him tell the world was different.

“There’s not much t’say, really. She’s great, she has a heart of gold. I’m extremely lucky to have her in my life.”

You felt a warm blush creeping up your cheeks. Since his tour had ended and you’d been able to spend more time together, not as Harry Styles and his secret, but as Harry and y/n, your relationship had gone from strength to strength. He still gave you the jitters you’d feel around a high school crush, every touch shooting electricity through your veins.

He hadn’t corrected the host when she called you his girlfriend. Whether it was out of ease or not, he hadn’t corrected her. You unintentionally tuned out of the last few minutes of the interview, trapped in your thoughts. Harry Styles’ girlfriend. You couldn’t get it out of your head, the words just echoing around your mind.

It wasn’t until you heard a key jingle in the front door that you snapped out of your daydream. You were still frozen in place, hands still wrapped around your now cold coffee. “Hi darling,” Harry greeted you as he walked around the breakfast bar. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You melted into his embrace, never feeling as at home as you did in your lover’s arms. You looked up at him, eyes filled with adoration and longing. “You were incredible, H.”

“Thank you, love,” Harry said, his voice soft. “Got asked about you,” he smirked. “I thought you were talking about your girlfriend, not me,” you giggled, eyes sparkling. “Mhm, you are my girlfriend,” Harry grinned, lifting you onto the counter.

“Were you ever going to tell me that?”

“Telling you now,” he said, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled and leaned into him, chasing his mouth for more kisses. “You can’t just tell me, Harry. Got to ask me,” you laughed, outstretched finger poking at his nose. He looked over your face, grinning so wide his cheeks must have ached. “I want to marry you,” he told you softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Wrong question,” you told him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Just be mine, be all mine,” Harry drawled, eyes trailing over your face. Even with your unbrushed hair, stained pyjamas and coffee breath, you’d never been more beautiful to him. The early morning sun spilling in through the window illuminated every part of you, casting an angelic glow over you as you stared up at him. “Be my girlfriend, and please don’t dismiss my proposal when I ask you again,” he continued, running his hands over your hips.

"I never said no," you whispered with a teasing smile, gazing into Harry’s eyes. His lips brushed against yours with a featherlight touch, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. It was a gentle and tender kiss, filled with all the love and longing he could muster. Every kiss felt like the first with Harry, everything seemed to stand still as his tongue danced against yours, each movement like a silent promise between the two of you. A promise of love, trust and a future.

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz @cicicavill7 @drewsephrry @tswiftsgf @ashleighsss @bikestyles @he6rtshaker @prettygurl-2009 @softestqueeen

#harry styles fluff #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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aliensupastar · 1 year

Text

not wrong, but not right

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You do your best to keep your head down at your job. When that doesn't work, Carmy's there for you anyways.

Part II Part III

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, depiction of an eating disorder, vent fic, fainting, hospitals, slightly one-sided romantic feelings?

A/N: PLEASE mind the warnings! as mentioned, this is a vent fic with a reader that has an eating disorder. mostly made for my own comfort/self-indulgence, but i thought i’d post it anyways. title inspired by "ode to the mets" by the strokes, gif by heardchef <3

All things considered, your job could be worse. Honestly, you feel like you lucked out a bit, your hiring process being expedited due to Marcus being the one to recommend you to his boss, given that they needed new workers for their newly opened restaurant — you knew it was a good idea to stay in touch with that guy after high school.

Working front-of-house with Richie could get overwhelming, to say the least. Dealing with him your first few weeks took a lot of adjustment, and a lot of holding back from calling him every foul name in the book. But it all smoothened out eventually. Your coworkers were nice, the pay was decent, the train ride was short. And your boss… well, it didn’t hurt that your boss was nice to look at.

You’re a little embarrassed by it. You spend a little too much time looking at him when you’re supposed to be focused on your prep, and you always stop by the back office to say goodnight before you clock out, but you think you’ve kept it subtle enough to go unnoticed. You’ve gotten a little too good at that, going unnoticed.

“Need me to do anything else before I head out?” You lean against the doorway of the tiny office as you say it, backpack already on and your jacket draped over your arms. Carmy’s sitting in his desk chair, bent over some paperwork and looking a little surprised at your question.

“Uh, no, we’re good here. But if you wanna stick around for a bit, Syd and I are makin’ something out of the food we were gonna have to throw out tonight, you could take some of it home with you. Save time on dinner.” He offers with a small smile. You hate the temptation that immediately springs up in you, because you want so badly to take him up on it. The smell of food in the kitchen is always mouthwatering, and when Carmy’s making dishes instead of being on expo, it somehow smells even better.

You’ve never even tried Carmy’s cooking. You work for one of the most excellent chefs in the country, and you can’t even answer with an honest opinion when people ask you if the food at the restaurant is good.

Despite all that, you shake your head, using the excuse of wanting to catch your train before it gets dark out, and he takes that easily.

“Heard.” He nods, looking like he might want to say more. “Well, thank you, for showin’ up today. You were great.”

“Thank you, chef.” You reply, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the praise. “Goodnight, Carm.”

Before you can change your mind, you turn and walk away, clocking out quickly, but you still hear him say “Night!” from behind you.

When you make it onto a train car, safely on your way back to your apartment, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe some other day, you think to yourself. It’ll be worth it to try the food some other day.

It had been one incident. That’s what you swore to yourself: one incident, one slip up, and it would never happen again. Besides, you think — or rather, hoped — Carmy’s forgotten about it. It was months ago, and things moved quickly in the restaurant, no time to dwell on things, especially not for the guy who has to run it.

You’d gone out to the back alley of The Bear for a short break. You’d seen the others do it a million times, mostly for smoke breaks, but you didn’t need a cigarette. You needed to sit down, give yourself a chance to catch your breath as your vision started to swim and your ears felt like they had been filled with cotton. And, well, usually you didn’t need breaks like that, usually you didn’t allow yourself to take them like the others did, but there was a lull between the lunch and dinner rush and Richie didn’t need your help in the front, so you quietly slipped out the back door while hastily putting your coat on. Just this once, you let yourself slump against the wall, sliding down until you were sat on the pavement. You don’t even remember your consciousness fading, just your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your eyes slipped shut.

Carmy found you like that. He had barely noticed your extended absence, too busy catching up on more paperwork in his office before the dinner crowd poured in, and he decided he needed a smoke. It had almost startled him when he finally did notice you sitting there, your presence so quiet it took him a few seconds, before he also noticed you were asleep. He couldn’t blame you for that. He could use a fuckin’ nap these days.

Still, he walked over and leaned down, nudging your shoulder with his hand to rouse you, muttering a quiet “hey.” But you didn’t wake, not even after a couple more pokes. And then he started to worry.

When you came to, it was because of Carmy’s hands on both your cheeks, gently patting your face, his blue eyes wide with panic. You flinched a bit, startling at the realisation of what you'd done, swearing under your breath, and that was enough for Carmy to step back.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded quickly on instinct.

“I’m- fine. Yeah, I’m okay.” You stumbled over your assurance, knowing he didn’t quite believe you from the way he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“What are you doing out here? You’re freezin’.” You bite your lip, embarrassed at being caught a bit red-handed, unconscious with your body temperature dropping. You’re usually better than that. Better at hiding behind smiles, concealer over your dark under-eyes, and excuses of being more of a big breakfast person to get out of eating family meals with the rest of your coworkers every afternoon.

“Just tired. I’m fine.” You reply, hoping that’d be enough of an excuse, because everyone here is a little exhausted all the time. You pull yourself to your feet once he stands up from crouching in front of you, trying to convince him to just brush it off. “I'm good to keep going.”

You almost think that he buys that, before he stares at you a little bit longer, and you try not to shrink under his gaze.

“People who are fine usually don’t take five minutes to wake up.” He says. You don’t have a comeback.

“Yes, chef,” is the only thing you can say as you turn and walk back into the kitchen quickly, avoiding eye contact with him and making it through the rest of the day without needing another break, and without giving him a chance to talk to you again before you clock out that day. You don’t even stop by the office to say goodnight.

It was months ago, one time, and it wasn’t supposed to happen again. Not at work, not in the middle of a rush. That was just your luck, you guess, that you would get caught up working front-of-house, running between taking orders with Richie and handing out plates whenever you heard somebody yelling “Hands!” in the back, all while you hadn’t had anything more than water and a coffee in the morning in… fuck, you lost count of the days again.

You pause to take deep breaths and sips of water when you can, but you guess it wasn’t often enough, because one second you’re picking up plates from the expo station and the next you’re collapsing, taking the dishes with you.

When you wake up in a hospital bed afterwards, Carmy’s there. Slumped over in a plastic chair that can’t be comfortable, clad in a familiar checkered wool jacket. He’s asleep, but he’s here, and you don’t have the heart to wake him. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but your heart fills with equal parts guilt and gratitude at the fact that he’s likely been sat by your side for hours.

You turn your attention away from Carmy for a second, taking in the rest of your surroundings. The cotton hospital gown, the uncomfortably firm mattress beneath you, the beeping of an EKG to your left, and to your right-

Your breath catches when you see it. An IV bag, steadily dripping fluid into you through the needle in your arm, innocuous but sinister.

“Shit.” You breathe out. Now you’re panicking. Now you’re cursing yourself for not being able to hold it together long enough to get through a busy hour, and reaching for the bag to get a better look at the text that you hope and pray details it’s nutritional information, but you quickly snatch your hand back when the privacy curtain is peeled away by a nurse checking up on you.

The sound of the curtain rings scraping against metal wakes Carmy, and the nurse smiles apologetically before turning to you and explaining what you already guessed: you're in ketosis, you fainted due to low blood sugar levels and a high-stress environment, you should take it easy and eat when you get home. You’ll be discharged as soon as your IV bag is finished. Fuck. You nod and smile along with everything she says, lying through your teeth about merely skipping breakfast that morning and thanking her for her time until you can get her to leave you alone again.

Well, alone with your boss, who’s silent through the whole conversation.

You wait for a minute after the nurse leaves, before turning to your right and carefully lifting yourself onto your knees to tug the IV bag off its hook and flip it over, desperately scanning the printed text. You can’t even bring yourself to care that Carmy’s there anymore, even when you can feel his eyes on you, witnessing your silent panic. You can’t help it.

You swear under your breath once you find what you’re looking for. When you do the math in your head, it’s- fuck- it’s hundreds of calories that they’re pumping into you. You hang the bag up and sit back, defeated, unable to do anything but fiddle with the thin blanket draped over your legs and curse yourself for not being more careful.

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Carmy asks gently after a few minutes, breaking the silence. You don’t know why that question makes your eyes fill with tears, even as you shake your head vehemently.

“Nothing’s going on, Carm. I’m okay.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice neutral. He pauses for a moment, making you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll drop it.

“I know what ketosis means, chef.” You hate him a little bit for catching on. You were so sure you were flying under the radar, you could’ve kept your habits unnoticed if you had just not fainted again.

“Well, like I said, I skipped breakfast. I didn’t have time this morning.”

“Then why didn’t you eat family with us instead?” He insists.

“Because-“

“Why aren’t you eating, chef?”

You know he’s just concerned, as your boss, he can’t have you passing out at work so much. But you also can’t help the irritation that rises in you at his persistence.

“Fuck you, Carmen,” is all you can come back with, and he scoffs. “I felt weird intruding on family when I never eat with you guys normally. There. I’m sorry me not eating this one time got in the way of my job, it won’t happen again.” You try to explain, but you already know he’ll see through that.

“One time, along with the other time you fainted out back, and all the times you’ve refused to even taste a new dish we’re tryin’ out.” Your head snaps up, and you finally take a real look at him, taken aback by the fact that he would even be bothered to remember all that. He meets your irritation with nothing but softness in his eyes. “Talk to me.” He pleads.

You can’t take it. You tear up again, wanting, needing to fight against the temptation to tell him everything because, God, you don’t know how much more you can take.

“I can’t.” There’s no hiding your emotion anymore, your voice thick with tears. “Carmy- I- I can’t take it.”

“Take what?” He asks, his voice still gentle.

“Any of it!” You’re full on sobbing now, desperately trying to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” He almost coos, standing to move closer to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, bringing your head to rest on his firm chest, and you let him. You don’t object when his hand moves to pet the back of your head while you gasp for breath through your sobs, and he doesn’t object when your hands land on his back, clinging to the white t-shirt under his coat and relishing in the warmth radiating from him.

He doesn’t push you to say more. He holds you while you calm down, your breath evening out eventually, enough to speak straight.

“I can’t tell you, Carmy.” You finally say, practically whimpering. “I can’t get the help you’ll want me to get, because- I can’t stop. I don’t know how, I- I don’t know another way anymore.”

He doesn’t reply, at first, taking in a deep breath while he lets your words hang in the air.

“Okay.” He says quietly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” You’re relieved at his acquiescence. You don’t think you can take fighting with your boss on top of everything else you have going on.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Can I ask you to promise me something?” He continues, making you pause, before nodding hesitantly. “Let me look out for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, just- don’t keep going at it alone. You’ll just end up back here again. Or, y’know, half-breathing and unconscious in the back alley of my restaurant. Trust me, I know.”

You contemplate his words for a bit. You know he’s right, and you know you don’t want to end up in the hospital again. And maybe you owe him this one thing, for being here, for not pushing you like you expected him to, for not firing you after you interrupted his whole day with your bullshit.

“Okay,” You say. “I promise.” He breathes what you think is a sigh of relief, before leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You stay like that for a little while longer, silent except for the beeping EKG machine and your occasional sniffle.

“You’re freezing, you know that?” He says suddenly, and it makes you giggle; you haven’t held anyone close in a while, not long enough for them to notice you’re always cold to the touch. You know he’s smiling too, feeling his lips against your hair.

“Lookin’ out for me might mean letting me borrow this jacket every once in a while.”

“I’m okay with that.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto angst #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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dudeitiskarev · 1 year

Text

My One and Only

Paring: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: It's Derek and Savannah's wedding, and to Hotch, you're the prettiest person in the room.

Content/warnings: mutual pining; secret relationship; food and alcohol consumption; smut (18+ only please. Minors do not engage).

Word count: 7.3k

Author’s note: this one of my all time favorite fics I’ve written that is also based on one of my fav songs by miss Taylor Swift ‘Dress’. thought I’d post it here since I’ve been gaining some new followers and as most of my fics, it’s only on AO3. If you’re new here, welcome and I hope you enjoy! Mwahh!

Everyone’s eyes were on the bride—everyone but Hotch’s. Even before the ceremony started, his entire attention was on one of the bridesmaids: You.

You, on the other hand, were mesmerized by Savannah walking down the aisle in her gorgeous wedding dress—you smiled even bigger when she joined Derek at the altar.

“My god,” he said, staring into his soon-to-be wife’s eyes with a cheeky smile.

Only then you sensed a strong gaze on you. You subtly turned your head to the crowd and like a magnet you found Aaron’s eyes. You gave him a quick threatening glance before bringing your attention back to the couple. You could almost hear him chuckle under his breath from that far.

You’d talked about it when each of you got an invitation and he promised he would ignore you all evening, but it was hard keeping his eyes off you when you looked that stunning. That wouldn’t be a problem if one of Derek’s sisters wasn’t recording the wedding—oh, and if people knew about what you two had.

“Maybe we should bring a plus one,” you’d told him as an idea to keep the best profilers clueless.

You’ve been more than his friend for almost a year and no one suspected a thing—truly. Apparently, profiling never worked when it came to people you interact with daily. You both were experienced profilers too, and since the beginning, you knew well how to act around each other to trick everybody at work into thinking you were still just two normal co-workers that got along.

That’s how it was for over five years. Then it all changed when you both ended your respective relationships around the same time. Your breakup came first and was messier than his. He was there to catch your tears the same way you were all ears to him. You were lonely together and that woke up feelings neither of you thought would emerge from talking just a bit more than the usual. And one late-night kiss in his office was enough to start whatever you two had going on.

You’d been confused for a while about how you felt about him and took the initiative to take it forward. You apologized right away because you didn’t plan to kiss him. Ever. But he said nothing, kissed you back, and took you right there over his desk—the first and only time he allowed himself to lose his professionalism at work.

It was the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever had and you became addicted to it—to him.

The officiant started his speech and when Derek began to say his vows, you snapped out of your flashbacks, holding your flower bouquet tighter by impulse. Your stomach fluttered while his voice floated inside the intimate venue, and you could only imagine how Savannah was feeling. She brought her palm to her pregnant belly, keeping it there the entire time Morgan spoke his heart out. He was like a brother to you and the fact that he had found the one made you wonder who you were gonna have the chance to share vows with in a hopefully not-so-far future.

You slightly turned your head to the crowd again when it was Savannah’s turn, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Hotch, the only person you wanted a life with. The person you considered was the one for you.

God, if he only knew.

“ ...And I promise to love you, ” she said. “ Today. And tomorrow. And forever... ”

Every word resonated with how you felt about Aaron and your chest swelled as if she was a messenger of your own heart. You hadn’t told Aaron yet but loved him, you have for a while now, but if there was another feeling beyond love, you sure felt it. You’ve never been so close to grazing the sky like you did whenever he kissed you; electricity rushed through you whenever you two were in between the sheets; with him around, you turned into the most stupid (in love) person in the room and you were more than fine with it.

"... I'd choose you to be my miracle over and over again. In this world and in any other… ”

You finally dared to look at him, finding his eyes on you again. Now he was the one who threatened you, gesturing for you to pay attention by raising his brows. You didn’t react—externally, anyway. Your heart was clenching because you’d never had this urge before; to jump over everyone and let the world know he was your miracle. That was the best way to describe who he was to you since he offered to be more than just a shoulder to cry on. He’d made you believe in love again and showed you how broken hearts can mend each other—heal together.

You took a subtle deep breath and kept your chin up, determined to avoid any unspoken flirting with him until the ceremony got to the exchange of rings, ending with the most romantic kiss you’ve ever witnessed.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Penelope—one of the bridesmaids too—said jokingly and the happy cheering got quickly replaced with laughs. You allowed yourself to search for Aaron then, something you always did whenever something funny happened just to see him laugh. His dimples were in their glory showing how proud he was. He may have never said it out loud, but you knew how much Morgan meant to him.

And that was only the beginning of the big event. After the brief ceremony ended, it moved to another venue inside the same hotel and despite all the bright lights and loud music, love was still in the air. It even radiated through every photo taken at the photoshoot setup you and Spencer had built yourselves that same morning.

“Didn’t know you guys were this artistic,” Morgan grinned as he ran his hand over a wall full of pink and white roses.

“It actually doesn’t take an artistic person to build this exact wall at all. Even a toddler could’ve done it,” Reid said while nodding, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Don’t listen to him.” You nudged his arm. “It took us four hours to build it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Spencer agreed. “Four hours and thirteen minutes.”

“We appreciate the effort,” Savannah laughed. “Now can we please take the pictures? Baby is getting hungry.”

“Yeah, blame our baby,” Derek mocked her, placing his hand over her belly as he stood behind her, ready to pose in front of the professional camera. “I know you’ve been thinking about dinner all day.”

Savannah replied something between her teeth that made Derek laugh even more as they posed like the most attractive couple you’ve ever seen.

“They are so meant to be,” Penelope commented with the biggest smile, snapping her own pictures of them with her phone.

“I know.” You folded your arms over your chest with a proud smile that disappeared as soon as a familiar perfume enveloped you from behind, making your shoulders stiffen.

Although… that didn’t stop you from shifting your weight to one foot, a thing that made your curves stand out in a way you knew would only make Hotch react—more so when you were wearing that dress you’d picked with him in mind. His lips always ended up attached to your neck and shoulders. That part of you was his weakness and the day of the bridesmaids fitting, that was only one dress that made you think of his lips.

He cleared his voice as you expected to start making small talk with Rossi about Jack. You’ve always loved the way his voice became soft when he talked to or about his son. He’d told you how he wanted to bring Jack to the wedding but that he’d chosen to go to a friend’s sleepover—which was understandable. At his age, you would’ve picked your friends over your parent’s friend’s wedding too.

“Now pictures with your team.” Savannah smiled at Morgan. “You’re gonna want to see them when we’re old.”

“She’s right,” you popped in. “Come on guys, let’s all take turns to kiss Morgan’s cheek.”

“Mm-mm.” Derek furrowed his perfect brows, holding up a finger. “I’m a married man now.”

You stood next to him and pecked his cheek anyway before resting your head over his shoulder and pouting your lips in a fake-sad face.

“Spencer, you were so right,” you said loud enough for everybody to hear in between camera flashes.

“I know. About what? Exactly?”

“Today really should be a national day of mourning for all of us Derek lovers.”

“Oh, come on now.” Morgan swung his arms over yours and Penelope’s shoulder. “Just because I officially belong to my woman doesn’t mean you can’t love me anymore.”

“That’s true,” Savannah agreed.

You blew her a kiss that was sure caught on camera, then the messy BAU photoshoot started. Everyone traded places every three pictures, and in the last set you ended up in the middle of Emily and Hotch. There he went again, clearing his voice just to say nothing. He hesitated to place a hand on you, so you did him the favor and broke his awkwardness by wrapping your arm around his waist—and Emily’s too, of course.

“Is that a new perfume?” She sniffed next to your ear.

“It is,” you acted surprised, turning your head to her but clutching your hand against Hotch’s waist to get his attention—as if it wasn’t already on you. You’d sprayed some of the perfume he kept at your place and some of yours too over it, creating a whole new scent.

“I like it. It’s very… you.”

“Thanks.”

You could tell Aaron was trying hard to stay away from you as much as he could, leaning more to the opposite side. You did the same, pretending that Emily was the only person you were taking pictures with.

Then after the rest of the guests got pictures with the newlyweds too, the party began. The team had their own designated table. You took a short bathroom break before settling and when you came back, the only empty seat was next to Hotch.

There was no other choice, but you weren’t complaining.

Your dress lifted to your mid-thighs as you sat down and it got even higher when you crossed your legs, exposing your bare skin a lot more. Aaron shifted on his seat, bringing his clasped hands up attempting to cover his mouth.

He got so damn tense.

“What’s the menu?” You asked everyone, subtly moving your legs under the table to touch Hotch’s.

“You, apparently.” JJ raised her brows, gesturing behind you. “The photographer’s had his eyes on you all night.”

“What?” You asked with a soft laugh, genuinely clueless.

“Oh my god!” Penelope grabbed Jj’s arm in surprise. “I thought that was my imagination! He’s smoking hot.”

You turned your head and caught the guy pointing the camera at your table. He really was attractive, but Jj might have been exaggerating because he gave you the kindest smile.

“The alcohol is getting to your head already.” You rolled your eyes and scooted your chair closer to the table.

“I don’t blame him, though.” Emily eyed you up and down while whistling. Even Spencer took a good look at you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more pictures of you in there than Savannah.”

“Well, he better take pictures of my good side if that’s the case,” you played along.

“Oh sweets, you don’t have a bad sid–” Three constant clinks of metal hitting a glass got everyone’s attention. “Quiet now.” Penelope shushed herself, getting her phone out again to record Derek’s sister’s speech. “Sarah’s gonna talk.”

Aaron subtly moved his leg under the table and kept his feet next to yours. Whenever you sat next to him at the round table—which wasn't often—his feet always found yours. It was his way of saying he wasn’t being cold towards you as he pretended to be. And you hoped that was a new way of showing he’d gotten a little jealous about the hot photographer.

You wanted to tease him about it, run your fingers through the back of his head and assure him you had eyes for him only. Because you did, more so when he'd chosen one of his navy blue and perfect-tailored suits that made it hard keeping your hands to yourself.

You took a quick glance at his usually furrowed brows before focusing on the fun stories family members had to tell. You had a permanent smile on your face during dinner as they talked about Savannah's childhood and teenage years. There was a lot you didn't know about her despite her becoming one of your closest friends.

Unlike Derek. You'd heard at least ten different versions of the same stories and you never got tired of it. And on a more serious note, his mom brought up his dad with pictures of him projected on a screen, reminding Derek how proud he truly must be for his son starting his own family.

Morgan being emotional has always got to you. You knew how much he wished his son could’ve had the chance to meet his grandfather, but the sad moments didn’t last long. The dessert brought the sweetness and soon, it was time to get to the dance floor.

You weren’t the greatest dancer, but you knew how to move so you were designated to keep the guests motivated to dance with the other. You took the chance to at least dance one song with everyone—including Hotch. You tried to keep things low-key as always, so you decided to walk up to him, choosing to dance with Rossi first.

“Wanna dance?” You stretched out your hand to him.

“Ehh...” David hesitated. “Maybe later. Take Aaron first.”

“Don’t be lazy, Rossi. Come on.” You played it cool, ignoring Aaron completely.

“I’ll sacrifice myself for you.” Hotch tapped David’s shoulder as he took the last sip of his drink and rose from his chair.

“Sacrifice yourse-?” You looked at Hotch with a frown then waved your hand dismissively mid-sentence, casually holding him by his arm and said to Rossi, “You can’t escape me, Dave.”

“If you find me,” he barked back and worked his way to the bar with his empty glass in his hand.

You shared a casual laugh with Aaron as your feet took you to the dance floor.

“Don’t make it awkward.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. Nothing special, just like you’d done with Spencer a few songs earlier. The only difference was that Spencer didn’t make you feel like the prettiest girl in the room.

“I’m not,” he chuckled next to your ear and kept his hand respectfully over your upper back while the other stayed just a little lower as if you were made out of glass.

There’d been two slow songs in a row and the DJ didn’t seem to have the intention to change the mood just yet. They even lowered the lights, creating a romantic ambiance. Or maybe that was just your imagination and the fact that you were actually in his arms with everyone around like you’ve always wanted.

“We’ve never danced before,” you murmured close to his ear trying to keep an unamused face. You prayed your voice got lost with the music so the people dancing around you couldn’t hear how you were trying to flirt with him.

“We haven’t.” He softened his voice too. “But we’ve done way more than that.”

There was a twitch of a smile threatening to take over your lips, but you didn’t let it slip. Instead, you took a deep breath and slowly let it out as you said, “We have.”

It was strange. You were used to having his hands on you behind closed doors; inside a room where the only noise was his heartbeat against your ear. But like you said, you weren’t about to make it awkward. You cherished the moment because this was probably the closest you’ll ever get to be with him in front of everyone without them saying a thing. So you stayed there, hands clasped behind his neck as if it meant nothing – as if they weren’t shaking; as if you weren’t dying to just grab his face, kiss him in the middle of the dance, and whisper I love you for the first time one breath away from his soft lips.

“You’re tense,” he murmured.

“So are you.” You smiled, finding Jj’s eyes over Aaron’s shoulder along the way.

You pretended the smile was because of her and made an uncomfortable face, gesturing at Hotch with wide eyes. She’d never said a thing to you, but you were afraid she might be the only one who could suspect something about you and Hotch.

You were casually texting Hotch who was only a few feet away from you in his office about the plans you two had for the night, and you didn’t notice Jj had walked up to you from behind. She scared the shit out of you and you suspiciously locked your phone.

" Hiding something ?" She raised her brows.

" Uh… it's a surprise ," you lied. Which she believed—or you hoped she did—since her birthday was coming soon.

You told Hotch about it and he reminded you to be more careful when you made it to his place later that night. And though you liked how things were with him, you couldn’t deny that type of coldness hurt a little too.

“Is that really my perfume?” He kept his voice quiet.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

He subtly breathed you in and you almost melted in his arms. “It’s sweeter on you.”

You caught the photographer shooting pictures of you and Aaron and you waited until he moved around to tell Hotch, “I– I booked us a room. I thought since you gave us off tomorrow we could enjoy this place a little more.”

“What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“811,” you said before the song ended.

Breaking that dance left you with an empty feeling. That’d never happened to you before – missing him while he was in the same room as you – but for whatever reason, that dance meant a lot to you.

You tried to fill in that hole by dancing with the girls though it didn’t work much. You took a break from dancing and made your way to a quiet lounge room in the open. The sky was clear and the soft breeze was the only one who kept you company as you finished your third glass of wine.

“Do you mind some company?” An unfamiliar voice said from behind.

“Jesus christ!” You brought your hand to your chest startled.

Maybe it was enough wine for the night.

You turned around and caught a charming smile and a camera hanging from his neck.

“Sorry,” the photographer laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you’re fine,” You laughed too.

“I’m Louis.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself too. It may have been the alcohol but the guy was really funny and got to make you laugh more than once. You would’ve kept having a good time if he hadn’t tried to be smart.

“So, would you like to grab a drink with me after the wedding?”

Of course, he was trying to get inside your panties. What a turn-off.

“Sorry, but I’m taken,” you said without hesitation.

You really weren’t, though.

“Oh,” he looked around. “Well, is he here?”

Speak of the devil.

A silhouette at the corner of your eyes stole your attention.

There was Aaron—and Morgan—walking to the lounge room too with drinks in their hands. You wondered who’s idea was it to come just when you were being hit on by some guy.

Derek teased you with his brows while there was nothing humorous on Aaron’s face. You focused on Louis again, but the smile on your face was because of Hotch. Jealous Hotch.

“No,” you finally responded, sighing deep. “But I don’t see how that matters. I’m still taken.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Nothing about Louis was interesting after you studied his behaviour and read his intentions. Still, you let him flirt with you—and definitely pretended to flirt back hoping Aaron would notice—until he excused himself to go back to his job.

You wiggled your fingers as a goodbye and slowly made your way to Morgan and Hotch, making your heels clack more than you had to.

“Someone took a special interest in you,” was the first thing Morgan said.

You stood in front of them, clasping your hands behind your back, and shrugged carelessly. “You think?”

"Princess, don’t act like you don’t know what you were doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Batting those eyelashes, laughing too much, touching his shoulder–”

“You think that was flirting?” you cut him off.

“It was to me.” Morgan looked at Hotch.

“Hotch?” You—subtly—taunted. “You think that was flirting?”

It wasn’t the first time someone has hit on you right in front of him, but police officers weren’t as much of a threat to him as a photographer was, apparently.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt—” he confidently responded “—so I wouldn’t know.”

“I’ve seen her. She does this thing with her eyes,” Morgan kept going. “I’m telling you, Hotch, she was flirting.”

“That was bad flirting.” You rolled your eyes. “Which somehow still works with guys like him.”

“ Bad flirting? Well now I want to see your good flirting,” Derek continued, but his duties as a groom were needed and his name being called from the microphone saved you from that.

It was just you and Hotch now.

“Aren’t you afraid people are gonna see us, alone?” You stayed put on your feet, holding back the urge to get closer to him.

“Not really, we’re just talking.” He raised his brows as he spoke.

“We are.” Your eyes went to his lips and lingered there as you licked your own. “Party should be over soon, so… I’ll go back inside now. Are you coming?”

“In a little bit.” He gestured at his drink.

“Okay.” You took a step back. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“811,” he responded, sliding one hand inside his pocket and saluting you with his glass with the other.

You subtly tugged your bottom lip in between your teeth and eyed him up and down. You knew exactly what you were doing, indeed. “811.”

“Is this what your good flirting looks like?” He asked in a teasing tone as you were about to turn around.

“I don’t know.” You matched his voice, tilting your head to the side. “I’m not very good at it.”

He gave you a look that pierced through you, but you didn’t expose yourself and left him all alone.

You impatiently counted heads once the guests started to leave and shared a few secret glances with Aaron the rest of the night, which built in the anticipation. But sooner than later, the party was finally over.

“Who’s leaving with us?” Emily massaged her temple.

You didn’t pay attention to who answered as you were searching for Hotch. At this point, you weren’t even trying to be subtle about missing him, but he’d vanished.

Or so you thought.

You made it to your room almost with your heart broken, but when you checked your phone, his name lit up on the screen.

I’m gonna walk around for a while.

He was being careful—as always.

The alcohol had worn off already, and you needed some more. You ordered a bottle of wine to the room to make the wait more bearable and paced back and forth around the room waiting for it until the expected knock on your door blared inside the bedroom.

You smoothed down your dress and slowly worked your way to the door, dragging it open.

Not room service.

Aaron's broad shadow was standing there, both hands in his pocket.

“Didn’t front desk give you a key?” You let him in.

He shut the door behind him and kept on walking, forcing you to take a few steps back as he said, “they did.”

“Then why did you knock?” You stopped in the middle of the room.

“To make it more interesting.”

“You’re funny,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck the way you'd meant to do while you danced, staring up at him. “Did anyone see you?”

“No.” He delicately brushed his fingers across your cheek and placed a tender kiss on the other. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.” You grabbed his tie to bring him closer and closed your eyes. “You?”

“This dress—” he murmured in your ear “—had me distracted the entire evening.”

“I knew you’d like me in it.”

He smirked as his lips traveled from your jaw to the corner of your mouth. Then he finally kissed you.

It was tender—too tender.

“It was made for you.” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip while murmuring against them.

“It was made for you to take it off,” you whispered and brought your hands to the back of his head, pressing your lips with his into the wet, desperate kiss you’ve been wanting all night.

His arms enveloped you entirely and his tongue didn’t hesitate to sweep yours. You’ve longed to have his rough touch melting into your skin for what seemed ages. It was always like that. After spending an entire day treating each other like any other mortal—when it was just the two of you—you both acted like two different people that had too many clothes. But it was more than that too.

To you, at least. And you liked to think that it was mutual.

“It’s always hard to keep my eyes and hands off you,” he said out of breath, letting the kiss rest. “But today—” he pecked your lips “—you almost made me want to risk it all.”

You returned the gentle kiss. “Why didn’t you?”

That was a heartfelt question that he’d rather let get lost in the desire.

His lips collided with yours again as his hands confidently sneaked under your dress, groping you with hunger. “God, I knew you were wearing the tiniest panties under it.”

“I chose these for you too.” You whimpered when he lifted his mouth to your neck and nibbled your skin.

“Not wedding appropriate at all,” he murmured in a playful tone while kissing your shoulder. He teased the strap of your dress with the tip of his tongue, lifting it off your skin and pulling it down your arm with his teeth. “Do you have to return it?”

“No,” you gasped. “It’s mine.”

“Good, because I’m gonna fuck you in it.” He scooped you by your thighs and plopped you on the bed, settling in between your legs. He trailed kisses from your mouth down your jaw and neck, getting rid of his jacket and tie in the process. “You should wear my perfume more often,” he panted onto the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin.

“Does it turn you on?” Your hands flew to tug on his hair. “Smelling yourself on me?”

With each of his kisses, your desire for him grew. Your heartbeat dropped to your pussy within seconds and it was nothing but ache and warm arousal leaking off you.

“Everything about you makes me hard.” He started to grind his hips while his lips went back to capture yours. “The things you do to me, can you feel it?”

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. His erection rubbed against you, nestling almost too perfectly in between your still clothed folds.

“Yeah.” You bucked your hips to meet his.

“Yeah?” He pulled back, breaking the desperate kiss.

This time you were only able to nod and lift your hips off the bed to help him get rid of your panties. He dragged them down your thighs teasingly slow and threw them in the air.

The hungry look in his eyes while he lowered himself and lifted your dress up to your waist sent sparkles all over you. Your bare flesh was exposed to him now and though it was fascinating how he seemed to be at your will when you were that weak in front of him, you couldn’t deny how intimidating it was.

“I need you so bad.” You bent your legs up to your chest, tempting him with how wet you were.

He petted your sensitive clit with his thumb twice with a cocky smile before making himself comfortable by rolling up his sleeves and laying on his stomach so his arms would wrap around your thighs. His face now was one kiss away from your slick folds.

That embarrassed you in the beginning—how fucking wet he made you and how fast—but that only meant how much you wanted him, and you knew he loved the effect he had on you.

“How much do you want to come?” He kissed your inner thighs, digging his fingers on them too.

“Surprise me.” You relaxed your arms above your head, ready to receive whatever he wanted.

He ghosted a smile over you before circling the tip of his nose on your clit. You were so sensitive there already your body jerked a little at that first contact. His nose then was replaced with his chin, tracing rougher circles, and when he laid a light-feather kiss right there , you decided to close your eyes and enjoy the endless minutes of pleasure Aaron was about to give you.

There was no doubt he truly enjoyed being nose deep in between your legs, so you never felt bad when it was just him who used his mouth like that during sex.

“ That feels so good, ” you praised him, bringing your hand to his hair and running your fingers through it.

He hummed in response, sucking your clit into his mouth with light pressure and smoothly adding two fingers inside of you.

You rolled your hips against his face and in no time stars took over your eyes.

“Oh my g– mmm.” You pressed your lips together to shut yourself up because, shit, you were being embarrassingly loud and you didn’t want to let everyone know how good you were being fucked by Aaron’s mouth.

“I’ve been waiting all day to hear you moan.” He kept going with his skilled motions . “Let me hear you.”

His pleas were powerful and you couldn’t avoid letting yourself go. You moaned—loud—and smiled through it all because he deserved to know how good he made you feel; how good he was to you; how generous.

After that one, he went in—all in.

God, Aaron.

Fuck.

Just like that.

Please don’t stop.

Your mouth went dry from how much you praised him and gasped in pleasure. His mouth was exquisite. Every flick of his tongue and each sloppy sound he made brought you closer and closer to the—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

—Clouds.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You were snapped out of what was supposed to be your fourth orgasm, propping yourself on your elbows.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Fuck,” you threw yourself back down in annoyance. “I ordered that like half an hour ago.”

“That what?” Aaron said and went back to eat you out.

“ Mmh, wine.”

“More wine?” He reached for the closest piece of clothing and wiped his mouth, chin and fingers with them.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll be right back.”

He took a moment to adjust his erection inside his pants and worked his way to receive the wine.

“Thanks.”

The way he just casually said that got a laugh from you.

“What?” He placed the wine and two glasses over the night stand.

“Do you think he could tell what you were doing just now?” you laughed again, propping your knee up and playing with the hem of your dress.

“I hope he did.” He crawled in bed next to you and smiled into a kiss, sneaking his hand in between your legs.

He started to massage your clit right away. It felt good, but you needed him. “Hotch, just fuck me already.”

“Give me one more.” He grunted mid-sentence. “One more and then I’m all yours.”

How could you ever say no to that?

He rubbed your clit like he was against the clock, so fast and with the perfect amount of pressure.

There was that pleasure building once again.

Your sweet moans bounced within the room as the tingling sensations spread through you.

"Fuck, Hotch I—" you fisted the bed covers under you and turned your head to him searching for his eyes.

"I know, honey , I know." He had his eyes shut and brushed his nose across your cheek, subtly hissing under his breath as if he was in pain.

That word only slipped when he was pleasing you. You reached for his hand while you came, clenching and unclenching around his fingers.

You swept your tongue across his top lip to thank him with a desperate kiss. You hadn’t noticed how he had his eyes shut and his brows furrowed. You kept your eyes open to admire how much he was enjoying it and let your voice be free.

“There we go,” he whispered. “Good. So, so good.”

“It feels so good,” you whimpered.

“I know it does.” He kept lightly tapping your sensitive clit making your body jerk a few times. “Feels so good for me too.”

“Fuck. Please?” You begged.

He brought his milked fingers up to your mouth and slid them in and out so you’d clean them up, and pecked your cheek as if saying yes, now.

You clasped your mouths together and stood on your knees to help him get rid of his clothes between more desperate kisses. Your fingers shook as you undid his belt, and when all of his clothes ended up scattered over the floor, you lay on your back.

He adjusted himself in between your legs and slapped the head of his cock over your clit a few times while pinching your nipples, turning them into tight tempting buds.

“Fill me in, please,” you bit your lip, roaming your hands up and down over his forearms and biceps.

He reached for his pants and got a condom from his pocket. Your first time with him was the only time you took him raw, and you had to admit you wanted his bare skin rubbing inside of you again.

You stayed quiet while he tore the foil open and rolled it down his length, then without much warning, Hotch grabbed you by your hips and harshly flipped you around, angling your ass up in full display for him. You gasped between a small startled laugh, your cheek pressed onto the pillow.

It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to be this harsh with you, but when he did you knew you were about to be sent out of the orbit.

“Sorry about that,” he said in a cocky, deep voice that only got a moan from you in a positive response.

One hand circled your ass while the other guided his cock at your entrance, slipping it in just a bit. You wiggled your ass and continued what he started, letting him inside you inch by slow inch.

He groaned like a god and slid your dress up to your ribs, almost, but you didn’t want it off just yet. Like he said, you were waiting for him to fuck you in it. He withdrew his hips a bit to plunge hard into you again, making your ass bounce violently.

Then began to pound into you—hard.

You reached for his forearm and held onto it, glancing at him over your shoulder but your own smile distracted you mid way through.

There was a mirror perfectly placed by the bed, giving you the breathtaking view of Aaron slamming his body into yours from behind. It was mesmerizing—the way he threw his head back and licked his lips while gripping your hips until his fingertips disappeared into your skin.

You made eye contact with yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth and caught your own moans against your palm, dissolving in the moment. The curves of his cock fit you everywhere and reached your spot with each of his loud thrusts.

“ Oh shit, oh fuck. ” You muffled your moans into a pillow, squeezing your eyes shut.

That’s never been one of your preferred positions. He went too deep and it’d hurt at times, but it hurt so damn good you arched your back even more and let yourself drown in the way he dug himself in you.

“ So fucking good. ” You smiled, “ fuck, fuck ,fuck .”

By the time your skin was glowing red by how hard his skin slammed against yours, you stood up on your knees and pressed your back onto his chest, turning your head asking for a kiss. He gave you his tongue while his hands reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it up and finally peeling it off your skin in the middle of softer thrusts.

He pulled you close and kept plunging into you until his breathings grew loud, his muscles tensed and his cock twitched inside of you, groaning deep at the back of your head. He wrapped his arms around you like his life depended on it—with a kind of passion that could’ve easily been mistaken with love.

You turned your head searching for his lips and return that same passion, but he circled his nose with yours and ghosted your lips with his breath.

A tender frown took over his face while his eyes scanned your face from up close. There was a glimpse of vulnerability in him right then. You couldn’t quite read what it meant, but it weakened you on the inside.

“God, look at you.” He smiled, and finished with one last soft kiss.

You both dropped like dead weight on the bed facing each other, legs and arms interlaced together.

It was still there—that look. You could almost see right through him.

He took a moment to toss the condom into the trash then joined you in bed again, bringing you close into a hug.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I know you want to be home when Jack gets back.”

“I’d love to stay.” He kissed you. “But yeah, tomorrow we have early soccer practice.”

You returned the kiss while nodding and brought your hand up to stroke his cheek. It was soft and cold with sweat which you kindly brushed away with your thumb.

If someone asked you two years ago if you ever imagined yourself like this—with an after-sex glow—because of Aaron Hotchner, you would’ve bursted out laughing. You still couldn’t understand how you ended up finding the love you always wanted in someone you’d known for half a decade.

Sometimes, all those years where nothing more than a polite handshake and respectful hugs happened felt like a waste of time. Other times, you convinced yourself it was meant to happen that way.

You stared at each other in silence and just the sound of the city in the background.

“Did you get jealous tonight?” You spoke after a moment, tracing random patterns over his chest.

His brows raised, thinking about it. “I might’ve.”

“I kinda’ liked it.”

“I bet you did.” He pecked your lips almost to erase your mocking smile.

“It suits you. The jealousy.”

“Well, it’s not a very nice feeling.”

“But it’s hot.”

“Oh?” He licked his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did.” He kissed your ear.

You let him pepper you with kisses. Kisses that felt like home. Kisses that made you want to break the stupid wall you both had built and just confess how much you loved him; how you wanted those kisses all over your skin for the rest of your life.

“Hotch?” Your voice came out small as if anyone else could hear you.

“Mmh?” He groaned into another kiss.

“I– I think I–” I think I love you. “I think I’m gonna go home too.”

“You sure?” He pulled back and frowned with curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll call us a cab.”

“Okay. I’m gonna shower first.”

“Care if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

You ended up doing way more than just showering together, though.

There was a large window in front of a spacious jacuzzi that let in the shimmering city lights. You didn’t even know you’d booked such a fancy hotel room. It was the perfect place to drink that expensive bottle of wine.

You both relaxed in the tub, drinking off the bottle between slightly drunk laughs.

Time with Hotch went by too fast, and if you hadn’t spilled the last drops of the wine in the bath you would've stayed there until the morning.

“Now you can call your taxi friend.” You wiped a happy tear from the corner of your eye, wrapping yourself in a towel.

You walked back to the room and searched for your dress. It’d landed over his jacket as if they were two matching pieces made by the same tailor.

You handed him his clothes and dressed together, stealing glances. You really wanted to stay the night with him. You almost provoked him with the dress so you both ended up in bed again, but you kept your cool and made it out of the room.

You were waiting for the elevator when someone came out of the room right next to it.

Oh no.

“What’s going on here?” Morgan’s eyes widened as he made a little gesture between you and Hotch with his pointer finger.

“I– uh…” You looked up at Aaron. He was just as flustered as you, and the alcohol in your blood didn’t help much. “We uh–”

It took Derek three seconds to put two and two together.

“Please don’t tell me it was you who had that moaning symphony going on.”

“W–what?” Your face was burning right now.

“Hotch? Really?” Morgan seemed more hurt than anything else. He was your best friend after all.

“I’ll explain it to you when you get back from your honeymoon.” You reached for Aaron’s hand and walked away as fast as you could without looking back while saying loudly, “Have fun in Cancún!”

You hurried through the hotel hallways, paid the room and hopped in the back of the taxi without saying a word to each other. If you hadn’t booked a room at the same hotel, Morgan would’ve never found out and your most precious relationship would’ve still been a secret.

The ride was quiet, but Aaron never let go of your hand. At least, he wasn’t mad about it. Or if he was, he didn’t want you to know. You felt guilty about it, but it felt so good too. You stayed looking out the window to avoid looking at him.

Fifteen minutes later, he broke the silence.

“Hey.” You turned your head to him and stared for the longest second before he spoke again, “I love you. Secret’s out. And I don’t want to hide us anymore. There’s no reason to.”

Your heart started to race so fast inside your chest you couldn’t form any coherent words.

“We’re here.” The driver glanced at you both through the rearview mirror.

You were still trying to process what the love of your life had just said.

“Hey, love birds, I ain’t got all night. It’s thirty bucks and counting,” the man spoke again.

“Do you want to come inside? So that I can show you how much I love you too?” Was all you could say as you reached inside your purse to shut the driver up.

But he didn’t. “Tik tok, tik tok, my friends.”

“I–” Aaron sucked in a short breath, reaching for his wallet faster than you and handing the man his money. “I think that’s a good idea.”

#Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fluff

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year

Text

healing the inner child - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: healing max‘s inner child was something you’d do again and again

word count: 1k

warnings: jos verstappen (because he deserves a warning on his own), a bit of angst maybe

note: it was inspired by a post i read earlier here on tumblr and it reminded me of something my therapist once told me; healing the inner child is the greatest way of healing trauma

masterlist / taglist

Max didn’t have a good childhood, Jos ruining the most of it. When you met Max he just won his first championship. You saw him in that nightclub, smiling from ear to ear and glowing like a light bulb. And then there was Jos. He was standing next to Christian Horner, having a heated discussion with him. Christian was seemingly uninterested, rather watching Max having the time of his life. You couldn’t hear what Jos was saying to him, but the fragments you did understand weren’t exactly nice things about his son. If you didn’t know that Jos was Max‘s father, you would think he was his biggest enemy. And that’s exactly what you thought.

You had no idea who Max was at first, you knew he was some big smoke show. But what he actually did, you couldn’t have guessed. You were visiting Abu Dhabi with some of your friends, only just agreeing to the night out, if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met Max. At first, he didn’t notice you, a timid shy young woman, standing at the bar and waiting for a bartender to give you your drink of choice. He walked up to the bar, wanting to order a new bottle of champagne. The bartender immediately noticed him and came to his service. You scoffed, how the hell have you been standing there for nearly 10 minutes and no one asked what you wanted, but he just walks up and everyone runs to serve him?

„Everything alright?“, he was asking you, already drunk and careless. Nobody could do him wrong that night, not even a visible angry and confused lady. „I was just standing there for 10 minutes, or more probably, and couldn’t order anything.“ You rolled your eyes. You were annoyed, annoyed with your friends for taking you to this place and annoyed with him and the busy bartenders.

„What would you like, I‘ll put it on my tab and you‘ll have it in a matter of seconds.“ He only meant it nice but to you it seemed cocky. „No thank you, I’d rather wait 10 minutes more, or better, I‘m just going to leave“, you muttered. „Hold up, I only meant it well. What’s going on?“ Max was visibly confused, blending out all of the other people around him, even the upcoming bartender with the new champagne bottle. „None of your business“, you told him, but Max didn’t let go.

You ended up leaving with him, nothing happened that night, just you two talking. He was sharing things with you he never shared with anybody. Things that included Jos. Feeling bad for Max you gave him the card of your therapist, but he just laughed at you and told you he didn’t need a therapist to help him. You once again rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe what he just told you, everyone needs a therapist, but you couldn’t argue with him.

And one leads to another and you and Max got together. You tried to help Max as much as you could, but Jos didn’t agree with your relationship and always got in your way. It was hard, constantly hearing bad things about you, Max and your relationship with him from Jos. Max noticed your mood change every time Jos was around, so he changed the rules for him. He was only to come to races when you were not around. You didn’t want Max to change anything from you, but you were glad Jos was not attending a race. Not for you but for Max. Max deserved to be surrounded by people who loved and supported him.

You made it a habit to celebrate after every race, no matter what position he placed. You went out for ice cream, waffles, pasta or dumplings, everything he couldn’t have regularly during the season. One time you went out for dumplings, soup dumplings to be specific. Lance knew this great place for dumplings in Montréal. Celebrating his wins were always the best. You smiled and laughed a lot together and on nights like this, where everything was perfect, you didn’t want it to stop.

„Darling, you’re making a mess“, you laughed and looked at your boyfriend. He was trying to eat the dumpling in one go, but the dumpling exploded and the hot soup burnt his mouth, which led to him having soup dripping down his chin. He just smiled at you, ignoring the burning sensation on his face or all the looks he was receiving from the other guests. With you by his side, everything was okay.

„I don’t care, it’s delicious“, he smiled and looked at you. „Do you think we could go to the parc afterwards?“ He was looking at you with hopeful eyes. This was the other ritual you had; playgrounds were there to be played with and if Max felt like playing, you two played. And that’s what you did.

You two sat on the swings, giggling and laughing together. Max was feeling free, free from the pressure and free from anything negative. He was feeling just you and the wind in his face. Everything felt like it was perfect.

And when he won his second championship that year, you didn’t go out to party. Max took you by your hand and pulled you towards the nearest ice cream place, where he ordered himself the biggest sundae they had. You had laughed when he looked at you and asked what you wanted. You thought he was ordering for you two, but turns out, he wanted that ice cream all for himself. You simply took some ice cream in a cone and told Max, you’d eat the rest of his sundae. „I will finish this, believe me“, he told you. He infact did not finish it.

Max was your greatest gift that kept on giving. Healing his trauma was just one way of showing him how much you loved him. He appreciated it and after a while he felt like a little child who had the best childhood. You two had a relationship that wasn’t unusual, helping each other and being there was normal. And Max was definitely glad to have you by his side.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x f!reader #angst with a happy ending #jos verstappen #red bull racing #red bull f1 #childhood trauma

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kindasleepywriter · 5 months

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Public Displays of Affection - Azriel x Reader

Chapter summary: This is a Christmas themed oneshot of a series I'm working on (Bird of Prey masterlist), but it can be read as a standalone! It's set a few years after the end of the series, but it doesn't spoil the main story.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of fluff

Word count: 850.

Sidenote: Accidentally posted this on my personal blog at first! this is the re-upload on the right account <3

Winter Solstice was rapidly approaching. If the bite of frost in the air didn’t remind you of the fact, the extravagant amount of decoration in the House of Wind did. They’d started appearing a few weeks ago and now covered most surfaces, admittedly bringing you more joy than you let on every time you went to the library to pick up a new book. Solstice felt bittersweet to you, but you let yourself enjoy the parts you could.

You watched Azriel as you leaned in the door frame of the sitting room as he helped Feyre and Nyx make what looked to be garlands, although the latter’s work might be considered an abstract representation of one. You smiled gently as the ease with which he laughed with the others. You were glad he’d become more confident alongside you.

He glanced up, as if reading your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat at the wide smile he gave you, still so affected at the sight of him, despite the years. He always could manage to get your heart racing from the most innocent of gestures. When you thought back, you could see it clear as day: he was always the one you were meant to be with from the first day, despite what you felt then. No one had managed to break through the walls that had numbed you to the world except for him, even if it had initially been through confrontations of anger.

Azriel whispered a few words to Nyx, the young boy giggling at his words and rushing to his mother’s side, before walking over to your side, circling around you so he held your back against his chest. He swayed slowly with you to the soft beat of the music surrounding you both.

“Penny for your thought?” he whispered, soft breath tickling the skin behind your ear.

“I don’t think you can afford all of them right now, Az,” you chuckled, turning your face to his and raising a hand to brush a wisp of hair straying on his forehead. “But I’ll give you one for free if you want.”

He hummed, eyes fixed on yours and his hands rubbing slow circles against your hips. “I’d empty Rhys’ entire vault for you, love, don’t tempt me to do so,” he said. You laughed, turning to put your hands around his neck, his hands finding their way around you and flattening against your shirt in the sensitive spot between your wings. You sighed in contentment, a shiver running down your spine. “But I’ll happily take what you’ll give me.” he continued quietly.

“I’m thinking that I never truly thanked you for sticking by me through it all.” You kissed him softly, pulling your head back with a chuckle as he tried to follow. “I couldn’t have hoped for someone more perfect than you.”

You felt his grin against your lips, smiling back at you. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “And I’ve been the luckiest in Prythian to see you shine, my love.”

You went to speak again, but your words were interrupted by the sound of something whizzing through the air, but no sound of impact came, only a smacking sound across the room and an undignified squeak. Azriel did not move from his position, arms tightening, but rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “Cass, if you don’t put down that second wreath you’re holding, I won’t hesitate to tell Nesta what you got her for Solstice this instant.”

A feminine laugh rang across the room.

“You guys are no fun together.” Cassian muttered, more laughs ringing from the others around you. Your cheeks reddened and tension ran through you, not unnoticed by Azriel. “Want to get out of here?” he whispered.

“Please, before he decided to move on to more intimidating weapons.” you snickered.

“I’ll have you know that wreaths are perfectly acceptable projectiles when you two lovebirds are being-” You were grateful for Cassian’s indignant protest being cut off by darkness surrounding you, you and your lover disappearing to your shared bedroom.

Your wings spread on instinct when your feet caught solid ground, and you immediately caged Azriel against the wall, your hands resting on his defined pectorals. “I believe Cassian might need to learn to be grateful of our discretion in public, love.” he muttered playfully.

“We could always show him exactly how much we restrain ourselves in their presence,” you purred. You were always more playful when you two were alone. “I’m sure a little demonstration might remind him of the fact.”

You shuddered as his hands trailed down your back, over your rear and to your thighs, tapping them slightly, and you jumped with a single beat of your wings, obliging his silent demand. He caught you, spinning you around and leading you to the bed, softly laying you down.

Not a single word was uttered about your public displays of affection again.

If I'm being honest, I was planning on finishing up Bird of Prey before Christmas and was hoping to post this as a follow-up, but finals got the best of me. I should be posting more during the holidays!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar winter solstice #bird of prey

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sunnys-out · 7 months

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I've loved you for so long (1) | Lucy Bronze

A/N: Hello! I haven't written in so long but here is something that I have been working on since the WC (she's a short one I know). I didn't post it earlier because I was moving and starting a new job but everything has calmed down and I had time to edit it. Please let me know what y'all think and hopefully, I can post the 2nd part soon! If you like my writing maybe through in a suggestion and I'll try my best! :D

Content: Angst, Fluff if you squint

{Word Count: 2004}

______________________________________________________________

I've loved you for so long

Oh, I'd forgotten how it feels

Feelings come back strong

'I've Loved You For So Long - The Aces'

Lucy and I had met, informally, in 2015 in Canada, we never played against each other in that World Cup but that didn’t stop us from bumping into each other at Tim Hortons. The couple of times that we ran into each other at the World Cup caused small conversations and laughs that left me wanting more. God, even just her smile left me wanting.

I didn’t message her throughout our respective seasons right after the World Cup but sometimes I’d click on her Instagram profile and just scroll and see her thrive in Manchester City. Well I did drum up the courage to message once.

‘It’d probably be weird if I messaged her out of the blue right?... I mean it has been weeks since Canada?’ I told myself as I lay on my small apartment couch in Portland.

My thumb hovered over the send button with a slight tremble.

“Fuck it” My thumb harshly hit the screen and the quick ‘Wanted to say that you had an amazing tournament. Shame we never played against each other ♥️That goal against Canada was a banger meant to send that in Canada lol!” message was delivered.

I swear I threw my phone onto the other side of my couch and took a shower not expecting to see two notifications sent five minutes after me.

‘Lucy Bronze liked your message’

‘Lucy Bronze: ‘means a lot. Hope to see you again soon, miss world champion ⭐️⭐️⭐️’

I didn’t notice the smile growing as I looked at the notifications on the screen. I probably read it 20 times, setting the phone down on my coffee table and pacing the room debating whether I should respond or what I even should respond with.

“Lucy is funny, maybe I can joke about how it’s been long or maybe just a ‘feeling is mutual’” I said aloud to myself.

‘Why am I getting worked up about this?” My hair is now messy by how many times I redid my ponytail pacing the room for 13 minutes. I kept procrastinating and just settled with getting ready for bed.

‘I’ll just respond tomorrow,’ I said, confidently, plugging in my phone and placing it on my nightstand. That sentiment lasted about 2 minutes before I walked quickly back into my room picking up my phone, opening the message, and liking Lucy’s before responding.

Y/N: I would love to see you again! I hope it's somewhere other than Tim Hortons even though I loved that place lol 🙂

My phone immediately locked as I got into bed and turned away from my phone. I closed my eyes tightly trying to go to sleep quickly so that in the rare probability that Lucy would continue the conversation, I could deal with it tomorrow morning, maybe ask Klingenburg for advice. Though she might scold me for fraternizing with the enemy, jokingly of course. Defenders knew other defenders right? Kling would find it funny that a right winger is flirting with a right back.

My thoughts were interrupted by one vibration and then two more in succession. My body slowly turned over to see my phone lit up still and then slowly dimming. My hand, subconsciously, went over, picked up my phone, and opened the messages seeing Lucy liking my message.

Lucy: Let me buy you a cup whenever you’re in Manchester; there are some cafes you’d like here.

Lucy: I would love to show you around 🙂

I smiled at the messages and immediately replied without a second thought

Y/N: I will let you know because I do need a vacation 🥲

Y/N: And I would love to give you a tour of Portland, the coffee capital of the world. Worth it.

I stared at the messages until I saw a little heart appear on my last message. The little dots of a message incoming made me nervously tap the side of my phone.

Lucy Bronze: I’ll take that as a promise 😉

Y/N: And I expect that cup of coffee in Manchester is a promise too ☺️

Lucy would only like the message and I would promptly go to sleep after waiting 15 minutes for a message that never came. I tried my best to not think about it but the feeling that came from reading her messages and the smile that would creep onto my face…I wouldn’t forget.

Hayley Raso came into my life slowly after that. Glances turned to long stares. The lingering touches throughout practice became more than a pat on the back for a job well done. The smiles and laughs echoed off the walls of Providence Park as we walked to our cars until it was just to my car.

The weekly movie nights at my place turned into watching a show and cuddling together after practice for days on end. Another toothbrush appeared in the bathroom and suddenly my queen-sized bed wasn’t as empty.

Mornings were met with a quick kiss, a hug from behind, and sweet nothings whispered in each other's ear.

Going to practice wasn’t done alone anymore and it was nice to have someone waiting on you if you had to stay behind to see the physio.

It was easy since we were both playing for Portland at the time and the team weren’t surprised when we told them.

Little by little the Australian would appear in my Instagram photos and I in hers.

The one that “broke the internet” was Hayley’s post of her kissing me on the cheek at the end of a game when the USWNT and Australia had a friendly. The one that sealed the deal for everyone was my Christmas post of photos of the party I had at my apartment. One, a particular one at the end, Hayley was in my lap while I kissed her.

Something, however, nagged at me every time I saw a certain person's name pop up “Lucy Bronze liked your post” but I ignored it. I now know it was the feeling of the “what if” and “what could have been”.

‘Did Lucy not want this with me? Maybe that’s why she never followed up. I probably said something to scare her away. Hayley didn’t run away’ I remember thinking to myself and as if on cue two arms snake their way around my waist.

“Everything alright babe?” Hayley said into my back, I, immediately, felt my shoulders relax at the sound of Hayley’s voice.

I whispered, “I'm alright, just read some rude comments. You know how some people get”. I lied to Hayley; I was happy in our relationship and shouldn’t be wondering about the “what could have been” with someone that wasn’t her.

Hayley would then go on to say that she’s told me to never look at the comments because when have the mean ones ever done something for us? She’d led me back to the bedroom to get ready for bed as we had an early practice but not after she promised to take my mind off the “negative comments”...it worked.

______________________________________________________________

She Believes Cup March 6th, 2016,

Lucy Bronze’s POV

We hadn’t played the United States in Canada which is a shame to not be able to play the future World Champions. Once, we had heard that we would be playing them in the She Believes Cup. I was excited for multiple reasons.

The US call up was released and I would be playing against (y/n). Since the World Cup, (Y/N) was making a name for herself as a strong right winger and playmaker for Portland and the National team.

On the pitch, she seemed cold and intimidating, but I met her as the complete opposite.

I was able to just watch her tap her lip with her finger with her US cap on backward as she decided which pastry she wanted with her coffee at that Tim Hortons. She whistled quietly as she waited her turn and then adorably, fumbled through her order. Then humming to herself happily as she waited on the side with her warm croissant covered by a napkin.

I was in awe of her. I had seen her play before and was always impressed by what I’d seen but never played against her.

As I went up to order my own coffee and pastry I noticed her scrolling through her phone, laughing to herself. (y/n’s) eyes crinkle when she laughs or smiles really big. She hadn’t noticed me when I stood next to her, also waiting for my drink, there I took notice that she was at least three inches above me and that she sticks out her tongue when she is reading something.

I breathed in and said loud enough for her to hear as she read, “I won’t tell your trainer if you don’t tell mine” I shook my little bag containing the coffee cake I had just ordered. I chuckled at the little jump she gave when she noticed me.

“Shit, sorry you scared me” a nervous laugh leaving her mouth

I extended my hand, “Sorry bout that. I’m Lucy, Lucy Bronze with England”

She completed the handshake, “(y/n) (l/n) with the US…obviously” She pointed to her hat that had USA stitched on the back.

The conversation had good enough banter that we both remained at a table for about 2 hours talking about life and football. I could tell you that I fell for the way she looked at me with her gentle (y/e/c) eyes as she described the antics of her new golden retriever puppy named Chili she had adopted when she went to Portland.

I never really was intimidated or made nervous by any American player, especially on the pitch but watching her warm up with an icy cold expression during the She Believes Cup match made me question if the person I met at Tim Horton’s was the same person.

I don’t think I was nervous but I lost count of how many times I would try to get a glimpse of her as she warmed up. Every time I did I’d feel the blush on my cheeks as I remembered the short text conversation that we had shortly after the World Cup.

I regretted so much for not following up immediately; I got scared. If (y/n) asked me today why I didn’t respond, I wouldn’t have known what to say to be honest. Lack of courage was what Jill had told me as Jordan patted my back while reading the messages.

The moment that I finally gained the courage to message (y/n) on Instagram to invite her to Manchester for a visit, was the day when I saw the picture of Hayley Raso kissing her cheek at a friendly. It was the first thing I saw when I opened the app to message her.

I remember my stomach dropping like the feeling when you don’t feel the bottom of a pool.

I had it all planned in my head that she’d accept and I had a mini itinerary in my head of things she would’ve enjoyed and sightseeing spots. But the photo of her with her face buried in Hayley’s neck as she hugged her made the feeling worse.

Raso had beat me to (y/n) and she didn’t even know it. I kicked myself for not being brave. I would’ve had her in my arms sooner. I tell her all the time that I fell for her immediately and from meeting her I wanted more of her every passing day.

Just seeing her across the field filled me with the tucked away feelings I had for her. I remember thinking…What I would have given to be there again talking about the most mundane things over coffee. Hearing her try her hardest to tell a joke but failing as she laughs remembering the punch line or even unconsciously speaking with an English accent when we spoke… God, I really loved her for so long.

#woso #wwc 2023 #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #lucy bronze x reader #barca femeni

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jediskywalkerblog · 25 days

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public - hayden christiensen

Hey my lovely people! I’ve just finished uni for the summer and I’m slowlyyy getting back into writing so here’s a lil’ drabble <333

A/N: no smut just pure fluff from this beautiful man🥹🫶🏼

Warnings: age gap.

• you and hay had been keeping your relationship away from the eyes of the public for quite some time, the two of you are happy with the private life.

• it comes to a point where the two of you really struggle to keep your relationship on the down low when the paparazzi start photographing hay on the street with you just going about your normal daily things.

• you’d see instagram and TikTok posts like ‘who is hayden christiensen’s new girlfriend’, ‘stunning young girl spotted with hayden christiensen’ and ‘hayden christiensen’s new mystery girl’…

• you and hay both know it’s time to let go of your little secret when the production and promotion of his new series ‘obi-wan’ begins. You both know the press will be crazyyy!

• “hay look at all of these comments” I say as I show hayden the newest suspicions about our relationship whilst we lay on the couch.

• A news story titled ‘hayden christiensen’s new girlfriend. Young enough to be his daughter?’ The two of you do have a bit of an age gap but neither of you had ever considered the hate you’d get from it. To you, age is just a number.

• “just ignore them baby, I know it’s hard” hay says as he pulls you into his chest… “no one knows the love we have for each other” he says as he pulls you in for a kiss on his soft lips.

• “hay, I think it’s time we introduce me to the world” I say as I look into his deep blue eyes. He gives me a serious look as he looks down at me.

• “I’d never say no is that what you want baby, but are you sure? The press might get worse” he asks me concerned as he pulls my soft hair out of my face.

• “I’m sure, we can’t hide our relationship anymore, especially now there’s going to be way more cameras on you” you say as you know that he’ll be promoting the new ‘Obi-Wan’ series very soon.

• “ok beautiful, I’m sure I’ll be able to bring you on a talk show with me. You can be my assistant” he says winking down at me right before we both burst out laughing.

• “sexy assistant I hope” you joke as the two of you lay and cuddle on the sofa…

• They day finally comes, the day you’re being introduced to the world, it’s not the world your worried about. It’s Hayden’s fans… what of the don’t like me? What if I’m not good enough for their beautiful Anakin Skywalker?…

• I’m bought away from my thoughts when the makeup lady tells me that she’s finished and there’s 10 mins until we’re live. I’m shaking like a leaf.

• Hayden gets up off the little sofa he’s been sat on waiting so patiently for me to get my makeup done. “You look beautiful” he says as he takes my hand, he feels me shaking. “Don’t be nervous baby, I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

• “it’s not the show I’m worried about” I say as I look up at Hayden, he gives me a concerned look… “it’s your fans, what if I’m not good enough?” I blurt out causing Hay to chuckle.

• “not funny hay” you say as you give him a playful punch whilst the two of you burst out laughing. “It’s a little funny babe. They’ll love you. They’ll love you because I do.” He says before planting a little kiss on my forehead.

• “5 mins until showtime” a lady says as she walks in with her clipboard.

• “it’s time hay.”

• “it’s time baby.” Is all he says as he takes my hand and leads me onto the stage.

Heyy lovelies, I’m currently laughing at myself because this was meant to be like a mini Drabble but it ended up being an entire imagine… this is what happens when I write at 10:30 at night🤣. In my feels I guess🫶🏼

Let me know if you guys want a part two via the ask button <33 - @jediskywalkerblog 🚀✨🛸

#anakin x reader #hayden christensen #star wars anakin #star wars blog #starwars imagine #starwarsedit #anakin fanfiction #anakin gif #anakin imagine #anakin x you #haydenchristiensenimagines #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x reader #haydenchristensenedit #hchristensenedit #hayden christensen fanfiction

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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

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| Ida’s Law

Introductory Part

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlisting and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life, if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Warnings: disturbing content- if you made it through last one this one should be a breeze, however it picks up where we left off so expect mentions of war, wounds, illusions to past rapes, Nazis being racist fucks, possibly some internalized misogyny about it all and some hopefully very 🥹🤧 reunions

A Note Going Forward: With this part now published, I am happy to open this series up for prompts. Ideally I’d like this series to end up being exclusively prompt-inspired and will be putting out prompt lists accordingly. I think that will be a fun way to keep the interaction going, stretch my own skills and explore all the different scenarios that may intrigue y’all. You’re welcome to come up with your own prompts, too. All are welcome, none guaranteed but let’s be real -I’m obsessed with this AU so I’ll likely do it. For now I’ll be keeping all writing to POW Camp and Liberation and Post-Liberation timelines.

“Well, what do we know?” Ida Brady asked the first officer out on the other side as they began to filter through the laborious processing of the camp. She counted them down, one familiar face after another appearing through the doorway again with no worse indignity than the new identification tags hanging from their necks.

“I hate a guy named Johann, and I like a guy named Fritz, and the lieutenant guy wasn’t bad.” Maureen declared, straightening her precious cap atop muddy auburn tresses. “Who went and named their son Fritz after the last war? I mean really? Who does that to a kid? It’s like he’s making up for it now, though, awfully nice.”

“Mm, I thought so, too.” Ida hummed, “Might keep an eye on that one, work on him a bit. You think, Kendeigh?”

“Work on him yourself, Ida.” Maureen scoffed.

“Not much to work with.” Ida retorted, the first general reference to her disfigurement she’d made. “What do you know? What’s up?” she left off to inquire after Tallulah Smith who came out the other side of processing looking more than exasperated.

“Know? They don’t know squat.” she said, “Never heard of a Cherokee.”

“I’ll be.” Maureen was grinning sharply. “Wasn't enough being a woman for ya Smith, ya had to go and be a brown one.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” She griped, “They kept insisting I was a fighter pilot. That’s what all the ‘dark ones’ are, according to them. Told them I’d rewire their insides and maybe then they’d take my engineering degree seriously.”

“I’d like to see that.” Maureen murmured, drowsiness beginning to take over at the comparative calm of their new surroundings.

“Looks like we got everyone, yeah?” Ida peered over the heads of the crowing room and counted out her charges in a silent tally.

“Looks like.” Smith agreed. “Got billet assignments?”

“I do. Colonel Clark, most senior prisoner here, said the combines are strict but the rooms aren’t. Let’s try to behave until we feel our way, then we can swap, if they allow.”

“It’s going to smell like feet no matter where and who we share it with.” Smith pointed out and Ida heaved a great sigh as if that were the hardest prospect she’d yet encountered.

“Mm.”

“Buck is out there!” Maureen suddenly cried out, grabbing at Ida’s arm, pointing out the window at the muddy yard.

“How nice. Gotta get this sorted first, eyes in, Kendeigh.”

Maureen reluctantly tore her eyes away from her dearly missed pilot. “Yes sir.”

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 350th, 419th, -the hundredth!- on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being pure idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers, and don’t ever take the promise of a pull out. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Colonel?” One voice demurred, raised hand and respectful title only forerunners for an obvious objection incoming.

“Yes? Sanchez, isn’t it? You’re not one of mine, I think.”

“No, sir, 55th -fighters.”

“Yes, well, welcome. What’s your question?”

“No offense sir but- what about the guards?” Sanchez asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Brady replied with typical candor, “I believe so far we’ve seen a mix here. I’m sure our friends can give us tips on who to watch out for.”

“No sir, sorry I meant-“ Sanchez kept her teeth clenched until her thoughts seemed to form better, “-you said no relations. What about the guards? No disrespect meant colonel and I don’t know about yours, but mine -they weren’t pulling out.”

“Mm.” Maureen thought that if Ida smashed her lips together any tighter they’d turn whiter than her skin, the bent aviators she had managed to preserve this entire time did a remarkable job of masking whatever feeling was stiffening her spine to the current degree, but all the same, her spine was stiff, “no offense taken, an excellent point. I’ll inquire about any possible…remedies. Anyone else?”

A multitude of hands shot up and Ida Brady scanned them with bewilderment until she realized her lapse in specificity. “Anyone else with questions, I meant! Saints alive. No? Good, let’s claim our bunks and see about a wash.”

After the dark interior of the building, being processed for hours, the hazy late afternoon light of outside glared painfully against Ida’s bloodshot eyes as she stepped out, leading the way down the three wooden steps to the muddy yard. Monochrome, this place, brown wooden buildings and brown earth and a muddy sky and brown flight jackets one after another.

And there in the midst of it, waiting for them with ever constant patience and thinned stateliness was Gale Cleven and his lost blue eyes and an alarmingly symmetrical set of facial scars.

“Major.” Ida felt her face soften into an odd expression she realized was likely that of relief. Cleven had that way about him, it was better suited to her preferences than Egan’s blustering warm hearted concern, Colonel Harding’s gruff joviality or her John’s perpetually intense concern. Her little brother was, oddly, nowhere to be seen now and that was a comfort in this wide open, highly observed space.

“Colonel.” Gale Cleven’s eyes weren’t a lost blue anymore but a pair of stormy seas and Ida steeled herself for pity. She found smoldering rage in his face instead. Another relief.

“How was it?” he was nodding to the command hut.

“Fine.” she assured.

He was searching for something in her face and Ida was sure it was easily found skin deep along her puffy, purpled left cheek, but if she had anything to do with her expression alone, he’d be kept guessing for ages. “Good.” he decided at last but his smile was tight, “Made John wait in the combine, he’s in there pacing like a madman. They make a note of who’s attached to whom, Colonel,” he explained, “a more discreet reunion seemed in order.”

“We’d appreciate all the direction you—“ Ida had begun but was cut short by Lt. Kendeigh who broke ranks from the processed group and came out of the hut behind Ida like a bat out of hell, running up to Cleven and tackling him in a hug, rather like a dog with their long lost master.

The Major’s lanky frame staggered under her surprise attack, perhaps more from shock and ill preparedness than poor rations and a weakened constitution. Or at least Ida, hoped that was the case.

Well, there went all intentions for discretion about partiality on their part, five seconds had gone by and Maureen still hadn’t let go, her valued cap about ready to knock off her head and his too. Seeing the gig was up, Cleven even belatedly brought an arm up to hug her shoulders, his pleased face bashfully pacifying her intensity. “If it isn’t my favorite bombardier.” Cleven mumbled, his lips failing not to tug upwards in the tiniest of smiles, and he gave her a pat on the back.

“Buck!” Smith was coming in hot behind Kendeigh and knocked Ida’s shoulder in her haste to get around her and join in. “Thank Jesus you’re here.” she grunted as she squeezed him and Kendeigh both, “I mean -we’re sorry you’re here but since we’re here-“

“Glad you’re here, too, Smith.” he assured her gently, another pat on another back and Ida watched Cleven’s composure began to flake as he took stock of their roughened appearances. “It’s gonna be ok now.” he offered, and coming from someone else that statement would’ve sounded a great deal less impressive than it did coming from him. It also sounded hollow without Bucky’s typical parroting of the upbeat sentiment. “Let’s get you girls sorted.” he nodded at Ida who fell in alongside him, if only to distance and displace Kendeigh and her over familiarity just a tad.

“What’s your Kommandant like?” Ida asked by way of conversation as Gale directed them in a trudge along the brown paths towards his specified hut.

“Think I know him as well as you.” Gale admitted, “Tried to stay low, been no reason for socializing. Wouldn’t advise a trip to the camp doctor though.” He added the last part after a beat.

“Why?”

“Your Johnny says he’s got an experimental mind.” Gale smiled wryly but there was a grieved look behind it that made Ida’s pulse pound in alarm, “If you go in with a cold, you might come out with a radioactive arm instead.”

“Noted.” Ida muttured with a shiver, wishing to god her jacket hadn’t been taken off her a couple stops ago, the sun was waning in the dull sky and the breeze was frigid without it. “Speaking of doctors,” she decided to go for it, “is Johnny -my John- is he alright? At the gate it was such a racket, was he…standing?”

Gale paused in his step up into the combine, brows knitted in surprise and she noticed along with him that their little march had drawn quite a little audience from the fellow inmates. Females in a Stalag -what a novelty. “Yeah, John’s fine. He’s fit.” Gale still had that quizzical look on his face.

Ida swallowed hard and gave him another curt nod, one she wanted to come across as grateful but wasn’t sure it did, her battered cheek was responding less and less to her mind’s commands. “Right. This us?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d try to keep as many close as possible.” He explained, “Welcome to paradise.”

“What did y’all name this shack?” Maureen asked him as she stepped over the threshold, it was dark inside and smelled of lumber and smoke.

“We haven’t.” Gale admitted, forlorn at the realization that things like that didn’t occur to people like him. If Bucky had been here, he’d have had it named in an hour, and something awful, too. Something that would make them all laugh.

“Damn oversight, Gingerale.” Maureen teased merrily but Cleven noticed the dimming light in her eyes as she took in the cramped, uninspired utility of the place. One wooden doorway after another.

“Talked it over with Colonel Clark during your processing,” Gale said, “decided it were best if we mingle you all among the men we know. Boys from your squadrons, friendly faces. A few of you in each room.”

“I call dibs on yours.” Maureen unabashedly grinned up at Cleven but Ida saw how a heartbroken look of protectiveness skittered across his features.

“Alright.” he muttered without a fight for once.

“Mm, Smith, Sanchez, Tong, you in here.” Ida decided and having snapped her fingers she was moving on to the next stuffy room. Asking Cleven at each about their current occupants, and with the precision of memory required of a woman who had to memorize her opponents on the promotional ladder, chose their new bunk mates accordingly.

“And where’s Johnny bunked?” she asked him in a low tone as she watched the next set settle in from the doorway.

“In with me, further down the hall, Demarco, Hambone, a few others.”

Ida seemed to hesitate as she eyed up an extra bunk in the current room that the last of her girls were settling into.

“Don’t be a stick, colonel,” Maureen spoke up gently, a surprising liberty even for her, “you need friends right now. Bunk with us. Everyone’s going to be fine. Can’t be all places at all times, ya know?”

Ida didn’t reply but after a moment she admitted, “I should go see John.”

Gale and Maureen exchanged a look and then moved in unison to catch up to her as Ida Brady walked, brisk as if she were back home at Thorpe and about to pick a fight with Jack Kidd, down the long hall to one of the last rooms. “In here?” she asked Gale, pointing at the closed door -they liked to keep it so for warmth and privacy, and to acclimate the guards to it being closed when the radio was out.

“Yeah that’s us.” Cleven replied, reaching out and snagging Maureen back a step as Ida turned the handle. “Let’s give ‘em a minute.” he suggested, referring to the Bradys.

He held her jacket sleeve for a brief moment before turning it to grab her hand, he’d missed those hands. To his horror their usual calloused elegance was a swollen paw of bruises. “The hell, Maureen?” he whispered in shock, turning it over to examine it, grip strong around her wrist before she could pull away. “Who did this?”

Maureen did her best to shrug, “Some bitch stood on them.” she said simply, and surrendered the other hand for a similar heartbroken inspection.

Kendeigh was indeed not as visibly marred as Ida Brady or a few of the others, but still, Gale kept turning her crushed hands over and over, recalling with vivid agony the way he’d admired them at all manner of work before. To hurt them that way, to restrain her so meanly- “Maureen,” she’d never heard his voice dip so low, and his eyes were simmering where they cataloged her hurts, “what’d they do to you?”

“What’d they do to your face?” she shot back, perhaps more perturbed by the immaculately symmetrical scars on his once porcelain face than her own condition. Women expected the treatment they’d gotten, in some twisted way, but this on the other hand, it disturbed her.

Gale looked taken aback by her question and quickly dropped her hand to touch his right cheek as if to remind himself the scar was obvious to everyone. “Flak.” he replied a beat too late.

“Awfully precise.” she snarked.

“I asked you first.”

“I told you, a bitch stood on them.”

“I’m your superior officer.”

“Who it looks like someone had some fun with,” Maureen snapped back, “who did this?”

“What happened to you?” He hit right back but his voice quavered.

“I’m fine now. I wanna go see the boys. Come on.”

“Just- give them another minute.” Gale insisted, pulling her back away from the doorway again, “It’s a lot.” He reminded, “For a brother to see his sister like -that.”

Maureen couldn’t argue with that, besides Gale looked so sad and more fragile than she’d ever seen him, and the gentle hold he had on her jacket was as needy and scared as a child’s. “I’m glad we’re in this together.” she whispered.

“Me too.” he admitted, guilty and sad over how true that was before letting her press her lips to his.

Ida Brady didn’t know what she expected when she opened the door, not much she supposed, just a living brother with any luck. It was a decently tidy room, plates stacked on a rough hewn board at the far end, eight bunks lining the walls, stacked three tall. A table was in the middle and there sat dear old Crank and Hambone too, Murph with Benny. A card game was ongoing.

They looked so fine, quite normal, all in all.

All motion in the small room stopped upon her entrance. Cards were dropped and cigarettes forgotten in open mouthed shock.

“Holy shit -colonel?” Demarco didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, and his disbelieving horror over her appearance came through loud and clear in his greeting. She hadn’t seen him at the gate.

The same for Hambone’s face, one that had never bothered to be discreet in pleasant circumstances, much less in shocking ones like seeing a notorious superior officer come in looking about as battered as a body could get -although his torn cheek was one to talk. Crank recovered first, in his mild, stammering sort of way, glancing at the lean figure who still stood looking out the lone window.

“Well, if it isn’t Ain’t Pretty Brady.” Crank clapped uneasily, summoning her nickname from basic just to cut the tension, it served to startle John.

He turned from the window abruptly, blank faced and unblinking as he realized the sister he had been watching for had already arrived. If their ole nan from the motherland had suddenly materialized before him he could have hardly looked more haunted or aghast, wide fringed fox eyes and that straight fold of a mouth -always so very held together, her little brother. Even after his third belly landing.

But those startled unblinking eyes...

Ida wanted to tell him to blink, that it was all alright now, that they were both alive and that it was good enough, it had to be. But she seemed to have fully lost all power over her throbbing cheek at last, she could feel her lips move in a motion she realized with supreme panic was likely a wobble of emotion. She ripped her aviators off, as if seeing her eyes might help his to come alive.

“John John?” she croaked in greeting, oblivious of the childish endearment tumbling off her lips in a room full of soldiers. If it were something their family was in the habit of doing, Ida Brady might have rushed him like Maureen did her pilot, or held out her own hand to be held, asked for a gesture from him -after what she’d gone through, surely it couldn’t have been weakness to want a clap on the shoulder, a flick to the bicep, a little “well done” for staying alive.

But she just stood there and watched him clock her shame. She could feel her swollen lip splitting in real time as the swelling and incessant trembling tore the taut skin apart, they’d passed around a single canteen in processing and it wasn’t enough, the walls of her throat felt collapsed together. Maybe she should have asked for a mirror first, maybe Cleven or Kendeigh or Smith should have told her she’d bring a whole room to a frozen standstill by her looks alone. They’d seen her at the gate -were these meager lightbulbs really so much more illuminating?

“Eye-eye.” Johnny let it out in a breathy rush as if he’d suddenly come to, and then he was in front of her, hands cradling the sides of her neck, thumbs hooked gently under her bruised jaw. A calloused pad swiped away the ticklish trickle of blood sliding the crease of her mouth.

Eye eye -his onetime baby babble for Ida, and she’d never let him forget it.

She could have wept at the useless sentimentality of it, of the gentle familiarity of familial hands, at the seething loyalty storming across his face.

“The fuck did they do?” he articulated at last, voice gravelly as shit but also reminiscent of the squeaky olden days when his castrato role suddenly no longer served one Sunday in choir.

“You’ve got legs.” she answered instead, sounding maniacal in her happiness.

He looked at her like she’d gone fully crazy as well as beat, “Yeah? Yeah I do.”

“They said, they said you didn’t.” she chuckled, a bizarre merriment trying to take hold in her relief, “During interrogation, that bespectacled cunt told me you had your legs crushed when you crashed.”

“No? No- no I jumped.” He insisted, then let go of her face to step back and gesture to two fit legs, as long and lanky as she remembered, as long and lanky as her own. “I jumped, I’m fine. They told you that?”

“Yeah.” Ida said, “Told me the longer I didn’t comply the longer you were without medical attention. I -I’ve been so…uneasy…about you.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated, hands back on her shoulders and she was grateful for it despite the bruises he was gripping, grateful for the way he kept touching her like he was going to hold her together with his own two hands, same blood, same flesh, same memories, maybe whatever she’d lost he could supply back like a blood donation. “Those sons of bitches.” he cursed them.

“Plasma for planes.” she agreed.

He kept looking at her, at her cheek and at her ragged hair and at the missing buttons, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?” he suddenly asked, wide eyed. “You know i’d rather die than have you tell.”

Ida scoffed, and gave him a grin, the best one she could manage with her cheek and split lip, “What do you take me for, Johnny?”

“A cold hearted bitch, I hope.” he returned the small smile but his voice cracked, still that hint of something long gone and juvenile.

“That’s what their Lieutenant called me.” Ida confirmed, a little proud, and sensing a renewal of his inquiries, Ida chose to take the offensive and call out for a conspicuously absent Kendeigh, “Candy! Didn’t you want to tell Johnny about your charming admirer? The Lieutenant?”

Kendeigh came round the doorway hastily, her lips puffy and cheeks oddly red. Cleven followed after and matched her, and his blush did nothing but highlight those scars of his. “Brady.” Maureen greeted, boldly hugging Ida’s very stiff brother without care —due to his red cheeks and rigid shoulders Ida concluded Cleven had given his own inner-relations talk to the men—, “Yes, I wanted to -oh hello Crank, Benny you son of gun- wanted to tell y'all about my ticket outta here -hell Hambone, how’d you manage to get uglier? -see my integrator, he found me fairly fetching. I think one of these days he’s gonna roll up in his shiny car and take me away from here and you’re all gonna wish you’d taken time to learn a little know-how about Alligators and their hibernation tactics in the winter. He was enthralled.”

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room, Crank grimaced a smile out of sheer generosity of heart and Benny Demarco still sat with his cigarette neglected on his open lip. Cleven, used to her preening brazness kept a tight lip, though a thousand questions seemed to swirl in his eyes.

“He the one who stood on your hands?” John Brady asked her without hesitancy.

Maureen whirled round then, comedy hour over and an angry flush creeping up her neck at his directness. “No.” she snapped. “Can’t some of them be alright?”

“A German’s a German.” he countered.

“There’s Fitzs and then there’s Johanns.” she disagreed nebulously and only Ida got her reference.

“And a shower is a shower,” Ida butted in before this became an experiment in an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force “which we need, badly. We’re…filthy.”

“We’ve got working sinks, trough sinks.” Cleven clarified with an apologetic look as if it were his fault the showers only ran once a week and poorly at that, and the water they had was frigid already in autumn.

“Water is water.” Ida reasoned in return, wondering when Johnny was going to finally let go of her arm.

“We’ll clear it out for ya.” Cleven said.

“And we’ll guard the entrance.” John added emphatically.

“Thanks.” Ida muttured, “Some of us could use to mend our uniforms.” she added, refusing to blanch at the subtle inventory of her jagged tears and crusted blood being made by every man in the room.

Maureen at least had her jacket intact. Her cap, too.

“Here, you can have my trousers while I stitch yours.” her John decided and was unbuckling his belt before she even registered the hand gone from her shoulder.

“What?” Ida balked, “You’re going to go ‘round in your skivvies?”

“Not as uncommon around here as you’d think, Ida.” Gale said, a small smile on his face. “I’m afraid order and decorum has gone to shit without you.”

“Well I’m here now.” she replied sternly but didn’t stop Johnny as he stripped.

“And so am I.” Kendeigh grinned and all Ida could do was to bless the saints for having let only one terror into the camp, were Bucky Egan to be here too, things would become intolerably lax. As soon as she thought it she repented it, sending up a prayer for the poor, absent bastard.

“Say Benny, you’re shorter, can I have your pants?” Maureen pleaded.

“Why mine?” Demarco protested, only offended at the height implication.

“Because Cleven’s too tall and I’ve already been in his pants.”

“Maureen!”

“Ida, order somebody to give me their pants.”

“You can have mine.” Crank offered kindly, and then stood up and bashfully began to unlayer. It left him in skivvies, a snuggly sweater and his flight jacket.

“It’s a good look, Crank,” Maureen grinned at the finished product as he handed the trousers over. “I’m seeing you in a different light.”

“Maureen!”

“Just sayin-“

“Take the pants with you to the washroom!” Brady interjected desperately as Maureen looked ready to strip right here and now. “Jesus, Kendeigh.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Maureen ribbed him, out for blood in her tired state and if she couldn’t have that of the Germans she would of her friends’.

“Alright let’s - let’s settle down.” Gale implored, a tired expression firmly etched onto his face and Ida herself considered giving up on the wash altogether and tumbling into the available bunk to court the oblivion of sleep. Were it only blood and dirt she just might, her usual tidiness be damned.

As it was -it was, there was…the filth was so much worse.

And if Ida thought on it too long she’d go mad and want to pour boiling lye on herself to wash herself clean and to kill the shame of it. She’d have to scrub the pants before she gave them to Johnny to be mended, it was bad enough for a brother to see the blood and busted seams.

“Yes, settle down for God’s sake.” she echoed Cleven, and something about her hoarse voice compelled Maureen to temper herself more than any direct order could. “A wash, come on, let’s get the girls. Oh and one more thing, Cleven-“ Ida turned to Gale and found him alert, eager to help. She was afraid she was only setting him up for failure but she had to make an effort to find those “remedies” she’d promised Sanchez. “There any lemons around?”

The incredulous look on his face suggested he thought she knew better, but he was ever polite in his reply, “No, colonel. No lemons.”

“Mm. Nutmeg?” she tried to recall each wicked trick she’d heard condemned when a girl got herself in the family way without the needed family in place.

“No, no nutmeg.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing but potatoes and cigarettes, ma’am. Do you- why?” he asked.

“Nothing.” she assured, “Just, a hot toddy sounds good right about now. You know?”

“Uh,” he floundered, half in suspicion and half in genuine confusion, “never had one.”

“Well then,” she grinned as she passed him, “that’s something to add to our to-do list for when this is all over. Jameson, though, none of that Kentucky stuff.”

“Yes ma’am.” his tone was vacant, smiling concern brittle, “You uh, you alright, Colonel?”

Ida gave him a withering look and then Gale too, had cause to be repentant.

“Come on Kendeigh, let's get the rest.” Ida gestured as she followed Gale back into the hall, aware of Johnny’s eyes still on her, still taking stock, “They better not be in bunks without a wash. Come on, showers, everyone! Out, come on out. You can sleep afterwards. Out! Would one of you be so kind as to wake us up in time for roll call?” she inquired of the male officers straggling behind her in the hall.

“Course! Yeah, for sure.” about five offers went up.

“You wake Me up.” she clarified coming to a full stop, wary of the enthusiasm, “I’ll wake up the rest.”

“I’ll get you up.” Her John said.

He’d probably sit and watch her sleep, too, needle and torn pants in hand, like a creepy little owl but that was one of those things she figured make or break a family, you either find it endearing you have a brother who rarely blinks or you go mad. Today, after all of it, she didn’t mind having a guardian Angel. Or a watchdog. Speaking of-

“Hey,” she asked him, “you two flew out together, where’s Bucky?”

But no one had an answer for that, not even Little John.

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ramblingoak · 4 months

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Clockwork Friends

Just a little sneak peek into my steampunk Copia fic! Still working on the overall story but this little moment came to me and thought I’d share 💙

Copia x Reader

Check out my initial post about it for more info!

Warnings: mentions of reader being kidnapped, sfw, thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!

After Captain Copia finally explained why they kidnapped you he had gotten one of his ghouls to drag you to his quarters.

“Was wondering if he’d ever shut up.” He had a firm grip on your arm as he pulled you down a corridor. You could feel the cold bite of his metal hand even through your clothes. When you tripped the fingers momentarily tightened and you hissed. “Ah, sorry.”

The ghoul, Phantom according to the Captain, let go briefly and flexed his hand.

“No, it’s fine. I’m ok.” Through the eye holes of his mask you could see him raise an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh. “I mean, I’m not ok. You kidnapped me a—“

“It’s still new. The hand.” He held it up, wiggling the fingers for a moment before taking your arm again. “Takes a bit to get used to.”

“It didn’t hurt, just startled me.”

“Well…good?” Phantom gave your arm a tug so you huffed and started following him again. “And technically that was Swiss and Sunshine that kidnapped you.”

“Remind me to talk to them about that later.”

The ghoul snorted, staying quiet until he stopped before a large ornate door. He let go of you again, seemingly unconcerned as to what you might do. There certainly weren’t many options for you considering you had no idea where you were flying to.

“Alright so, just hang out in here. Don’t touch anything.” Phantom gave you a little shove into the room. You would’ve glared at him and complained but your eyes were immediately drawn to the numerous machines scattered around. The closest one had a pressure gauge on the front but soon as you reached out to touch it Phantom spoke again. “Hey! What did I just say?”

“Sorry.” You clasped your hands together, the metal of your cuffs clinking. “I’ll be good.”

“At least wait a few hours before you build a bomb or something. Mountain will be on duty then.”

Before you could ask who Mountain was Phantom abruptly turned and walked out of the room. The clicks of the locks on the door were loud and your shoulders sagged in defeat. There was no getting off The Impera. At least not without a parachute or a set of wings. Actually…

You spun around and quickly scanned over the machines taking up a majority of the space. Even the bed in the corner had what looked to be the remains of a grandfather clock on it. There had to be something here you could use, something that you could make in a short time frame. A way for you to escape and get back home.

A clicking sound at your feet got your attention and looking down your eyes immediately met those of something watching you.

“Oh. Hello.”

You dropped to your knees, leaning down to get eye level with the tiny creature. It stood up on its hind legs, the thin gold whiskers on its nose practically spinning around as it watched you. It crept a little closer, the gears at its sides moving smoothly together. There were small stones where its eyes should be, one bright green and one a milky white. It reminded you immediately of the Captain and you let out a small laugh.

“Did Copia make you?” The creature cocked its head, the action so lifelike it had you grinning. Like it recognized the name of its maker. “What are you supposed to be? A rat?”

The creature squeaked and the gears along its body began to work faster as it moved closer. The little mechanical fingers on its front paws were amazing, so lifelike and real. You had never seen anything like it before. For a moment you were frozen, imaging the dreaded Capitano Copia in his quarters gently building this tiny clockwork rat. It crept even closer while you were lost in thought, one of its paws reaching out towards you.

“Do you have a name?”

You weren’t really expecting it to talk but it wouldn’t have surprised you. The Emeritus family were extremely gifted when it came to working with and manipulating machines. It was too bad they used those abilities to wreak havoc rather than help society. With a sigh you scooted back on the floor until you were settled against Copia’s bed, smiling tiredly when the rat climbed up onto your knee. Its ears twitched as you watched each other and you couldn’t help but run a finger over the smooth metal of one.

The sound of more squeaking got your attention and two more small figures appeared from behind a pile of parts. For a moment they regarded you much like their friend did but it wasn’t long before they were quickly coming your way. Well, at least you’d made a few friends on this damned airship.

You had a feeling you’d need them.

Read a little follow up Building A Family for a peek into how a young Copia created his clockwork rats.

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austinshotbutlers · 1 year

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The Wedding Date - Part Six

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister's wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to you family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is... you don't have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.6K

TW: Swearing, smut (unprotected sex, oral F! receiving) and bad writing?

A/N: A lot happens on this chpater but I hope its nice and smooth to read 😬 but we’re finally at the last chapter!!! I hope you’ve enjoyed it all. Like I said before, i plan to write a prologue and epiloge and still have two social media AUs to post! Thank you for all the love and support!

You were stood with your ear pressed against the door in the hopes of hearing the conversation between Tom and Sarah. You were able to make out little snippets here and there when suddenly your mom came bounding over. “What’s going on?” She asked. “Sarah is meant to be walking down the aisle in five minutes.”

“Mom… shhhh.” You said turning to her. “Sarah is just… having a minute to calm her nerves.” You lied.

“Ok, well please tell her to hurry up, the guests are getting antsy! I’ll just go and get your father.” And she walked off down the hall. As soon as she was out of sight, you pressed your ear back against the door.

“Tom, I just can’t tell you how sorry I am I never told you.” Sarah choked out.

“Look baby, I don’t care! It happened before we were together. I just needed a minute to process that you slept with Luke. I mean, I know he’s my friend and everything but Luke? Really?” Tom said with a slight jokiness.

“Do you still want to go ahead with this?” Sarah asked meekly.

“Hell yes, I do! But from this day forth, we tell each other everything ok?” Tom said. “If this marriage thing is gonna work honey, we need to be truthful.”

“Of course!” Sarah said, her tone a little cheerier.

“I actually think you should thank your sister.” Tom began and you could hear the eye roll in Sarah’s scoff. “I’m glad she got you to tell me actually. I’d much prefer to have heard it from you than Luke, we know his reputation for blurting things out.”

“I guess you’re right. I mean, I just told her she was a shitty sister when I’m the shitty one.” Sarah sighed and you triumphantly smiled to yourself. Sarah never admitted she was wrong so to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, it was music to your ears. “I mean, what the hell was I thinking about sleeping with Luke in the first place? I think I was just desperate for your attention.”

“And it worked,” Tom replied. “Come on, let’s do this thing.”

You heard Tom’s footsteps towards the door and frantically scrambled away from your position where your ear has been pressed up against the wood. Tom opened the door and looked at you with a bright smile on his face, followed by a big thumbs up. He then made his way down the hallway, presumably to wait for your sister at the altar.

You cautiously walked towards your sister and knocked lightly at the door. Sarah hastily turned around and looked at you. She didn’t say a word, but you knew by the way she tilted her head, she was inviting you into the room. You slowly walked in and stopped a few steps in front of Sarah.

“So…” you started. “Is everything…” You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“Y/N.” Sarah cut you off. “I’m sorry. Utterly and completely sorry. Sorry for what I did, sorry for not telling you, just sorry for being a shitty sister.” “Thank you.” You replied. “I guess maybe I should apologise as well but I was hurt. I just couldn’t believe you kept it a secret from me for so long.”

“And I completely understand that Y/N! You don’t have to apologise.” Sarah said and you were shocked to hear the words leave her lips. Never did you think you’d be hearing Sarah take accountability for her actions while also justifying your own.

“How did Tom take the news?” you asked despite knowing.

“He was hurt I didn’t tell him sooner, of course he has every right to be upset about it.” Sarah started. “But he still wants to get married!” and you could hear the relief in her voice and a bright smile filled her face.

“You will still be my maid of honour, won’t you?” Sarah asked, worry wavering in her voice.

“Of course, I will Sarah.” You smiled. “You’re still my sister… despite the shitty things you may have done.”

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you so much sissy.”

***

You found Aaron hovering outside the entrance to the hall the ceremony was about to take place. He was watching people fidgeting in their seats as they awaited the bride’s entrance.

“Hey!” you smiled as you reached him. Aaron turned around to face you and a smile grew on his face. Aaron was relieved to see you in a happier mood than a mere 30 minutes ago.

“Everything ok?” He asked.

“Everything is good. I actually received several apologies from Sarah. Something I never thought I’d hear to be honest.” You began. “Oh! And I guess it’s good news that the wedding is still going ahead.”

“That’s great then.” Aaron smiled and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m glad you sorted everything but remember, you have every right to be upset with the situation.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned up to peck another quick kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him.

“I just want you to know, your feelings are valid and justified,” Aaron added.

“I know Aaron and I love you for being just so perfect.” You smiled brightly and a pink tint tinged the tips of Aaron’s ears. He wrapped his arms around your waist while yours slid up his arms to perch around his neck.

“I love you, Agent Hotchner.” You smiled.

“I love you too Agent Y/L/N.” Aaron replied placing his lips on yours once again in a searing kiss.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Your mom hissed through her teeth causing you and Aaron to hastily pull apart from each other.

“Aaron, go find your seat! Y/N, where is your bouquet?” Your mom frantically barked her orders. “Sarah is about to walk down the aisle. Quick get into positions!”

“I’ll see you soon.” You whispered to Aaron before he escorted your mom down the aisle to their seats.

Then, the excited bridesmaids began to clamber into the hallway, arranging themselves in the correct order and checking all their dresses were straight and their bouquets looked perfect. Next came Sarah, looking so flawless despite the chaotic last hour, with her arm firmly folded into your dad’s.

“Are we all ready?” Sarah asked excitedly and a wave of murmurs and excited whispers followed from the crowd of bridesmaids.

“Are you ready?” you asked Sarah and she nodded eagerly.

“I’m so ready!” Sarah replied.

You smiled at her and took your position, ready to walk down the aisle. The music started to play and off you went.

***

“More champagne?” Aaron asked, offering the bottle.

“Yes please.” You smiled, passing your glass to Aaron. He took it and filled it up perfectly with the bubbly beverage before handing the glass back to you.

“You looked so beautiful during the ceremony,” Aaron said to you as you took a sip from your champagne flute.

“Flattery will get you everywhere Mr Hotchner.” You laughed, placing a hand on his thigh.

Aaron placed his hand on top of yours and smiled at you before the two of you looked around the room at everyone as they finished their meals. Sarah and Tom were giggling away at their table at the front while Livvy was flirting with one of the groomsmen she had been put with for the ceremony.

“Everyone has finished their meals.” You groaned, burying your head into Aaron’s neck.

“Yes?...” He responded slightly confused.

“So it means it’ll be speeches soon and I cannot stand public speaking.” You sighed.

Aaron laughed which caused you to sit up and shoot him a glare.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked slightly annoyed. “This is my worst nightmare.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” Aaron replied. “It’s just funny that you can deliver a profile to police officers you’ve never met before but can’t make a speech in front of people you know.”

“Well, there’s a slight difference.” You said. “There are a lot more people here than at any police station.”

Aaron just chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on your temple. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured against your skin.

Suddenly, the sound of a knife being tapped against a glass caught everyone’s attention and every guest turned to face the bride and groom. Tom was stood up and pulled a paper from his suit pocket, unfolding it carefully before holding it out, ready to read his speech. One by one, everyone made their speeches, Tom, Sarah, your dad, Tom’s mom and Luke (whose speech was fortunately short, snappy and a little bit awkward) before it was your turn. Aaron squeezed your hand reassuringly as you stood up, everyone’s eyes shifting to you.

You cleared your throat before speaking. “Hi everyone. I hope you’ve all been enjoying yourselves so far. Don’t worry! I am the last speechmaker for the night so as soon as I’m done, you’re free to head to the bar.” You joked and a few laughs echoed around the room. You ran your hands down the front of your dress, your palms sweaty from nerves. “Sarah. I remember when we were younger, you would cut pictures out of mom’s magazines to design your own wedding in your scrapbook. They were always so big and extravagant with bright pink dresses and crazy venues like Disneyland. But I also remember the hours I spent tidying up all your paper scraps and rubbish,” You laughed and others joined in including Sarah. “You always knew exactly what you wanted and I guess I was jealous of you in that way. You had your life perfectly planned out while I was stuck deciding if I wanted to profile criminals or not, much to Mom’s dismay.” And this time your dad’s laugh caught your ears. “And I’ll be honest, I had been dreading your wedding, I really had! But now that I’m here, while we may have had our rocky patches over the last few days, you’ll always be my sister and I want you to be happy, I know you and Tom will have a very happy life together. To Tom and Sarah!” you said, raising your glass and everyone followed.

You immediately sat back down and released a breath.

“That was perfect,” Aaron muttered as you sat. “I think I saw Sarah wipe away some tears.”

“Phew, at least I didn’t fuck that up.” You replied and watched as the guests began to file through the doors to the dancefloor and bar. “Come on, let's go get a drink.”

***

The dance floor was heaving with everyone dancing as the DJ played a mixture of upbeat songs. You and Aaron stood and watched the chaos as you both sipped on a glass of scotch. He had his arm wrapped around your waist while your head rested against his shoulder. The several glasses of alcohol had now begun to go to your head.

“Thank you,” You said. “For agreeing to come with me. Never did I think that the things that happened over the last few days would have happened when you said you’d be my fake boyfriend.”

“I think, agreeing to be your fake boyfriend was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.” Aaron smiled. “Finally having the confidence to tell you how I really feel about you was something I never thought would happen.”

“We also had sex.” You said excitedly and Aaron chuckled to himself, amused by your tipsy revelations.

You were just about to speak again when one of your favourite songs began to play, echoing loudly around the room.

“Oh my god! I love this song.” You smiled brightly and Aaron melted at the sight of how happy you were. “Come on! Let's dance.”

You both put your glasses down on the bar before you dragged Aaron onto the busy dancefloor. You wrapped your arms around his neck while Aaron’s hands found your hips by instinct as you began to sway in time with the music together. You buried your head into Aaron's neck and your knees nearly buckled at the comforting smell of his cologne. Everything felt so perfect.

“How long do you think we have to stay here?” Aaron asked.

“Why? Have somewhere you want to be?” You questioned with a laugh.

“Yes I do,” he smirked. “And it involves you, a bed and no clothes.”

“I like the sound of that,” you smiled, leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips. “How about we stay for another hour and then I’m all yours?”

“Sounds perfect,” Aaron smiled. “I’ll just get us another drink.”

You nodded with a smile and watched as Aaron made his way through the sea of people on the dance floor and towards the bar.

A sweaty hand on your arm drew you from your thoughts and you turned to see Liv with a huge grin plastering her face.

“How has your night been?” She asked.

“Good!” You shouted so Liv could hear you over the music.

“I’m surprised Aaron hasn’t taken you home yet and ripped that dress off you.” She laughed and you rolled your eyes jokingly. “I’m currently trying to persuade Josh to invite me back to his hotel.” And she pointed over to the good-looking, blonde-haired man.

“I think his name is Greg.” You corrected her with a laugh.

“Whatever!” Liv laughed. “He’s hot and it's ritual for a bridesmaid to hook up with a groomsman.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Here honey,” Aaron’s voice said from behind you and you turned to see him holding out a glass of white wine to you. You took it from him gratefully and Aaron looked over to Liv who was beside you. “Sorry Liv, I would have got you a drink as well,” Aaron said, and a warmth flared in your chest from just how sweet he is.

“Don’t worry about it Aaron,” Liv smiled and then she turned back to you. “Operation ‘hook up with Josh’ is in full swing.”

“Greg!” You corrected her again with a laugh.

“Greg… whatever!” Liv shrugged you off with a laugh as she headed back towards the blonde groomsman.

“What was that about?” Aaron laughed as he took a sip from his bottle of beer before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Just Liv’s chosen target for the night.” You laughed in response and leaned your head on Aaron’s shoulder.

The night went on as you and Aaron found yourself comfortably seated at a table, drinking wine and sharing kisses every now and then. The dancefloor was still alive with people including your mom and dad as well as Livvy (who was far too busy kissing the groomsman, Greg). Sarah and Tom had cut the cake, which had been shared amongst all the guests before she tossed the bouquet which Tom’s little sister caught (much to her boyfriend’s hatred!).

You looked over to Aaron as he watched the room and leaned into his ear so he could hear you.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said and Aaron could practically hear the smirk in your voice. “We’ve stayed a lot longer than we said we would and now I’m desperate to get you alone.”

Aaron looked into your eyes with a desire that sent butterflies through your stomach.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and taking your hand. “Let’s get a cab.”

You quickly made your way around the room, bidding your farewells to Sarah and Tom, your mom and dad and of course Liv, who gave you a knowing wink as you pulled away from your hug with her.

Once comfortably situated inside a cab on your way home, Aaron had you pulled close to him, littering your neck with soft kisses and occasionally nipping your skin.

“If you keep this up, we’re going to get kicked out of the cab,” you giggled. “And I don’t particularly want to be walking home in these heels.”

“I’ll carry you,” Aaron mumbled between placing kisses down your neck towards your collarbone.

“I… like this side of you,” you breathed out as Aaron’s hand came to rest on your thigh, squeezing it gently. “But we’re nearly home and then I’ll be completely and utterly yours.”

Aaron simply nodded and buried his head in your neck where he stayed the rest of the journey home.

Aaron’s hands were on you the second you walked through the door. He squeezed your hips as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss before trailing down your neck, nipping lightly at your skin. Within seconds, Aaron had you pushed up against the wall, his head ducked down low as he placed sloppily kisses across your cleavage.

“So…. Desperate…” you muttered breathlessly.

“You are irresistible,” Aaron mumbled, lifting his head to look at your face. His gaze was intense and filled with lust and heat settled in the bottom of your abdomen.

“Upstairs?” Aaron suggested but it came out more as a demand.

“Yes Sir,” You replied and flashed him a teasing smile when you saw his eyes darken at the use of the professional name.

The two of you frantically made your way upstairs and headed straight for your bedroom. You slammed the door behind you and kicked off your heels while Aaron began to take off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. You made your way over to him and started to unbutton the crisp white shirt, your fingers delicately brushing over his skin. As soon as he was freed of the white fabric, you leaned up to kiss Aaron and as your lips met in a searing kiss, Aaron’s hands fiddled with the zip at the back of your dress before effortlessly pulling it all the way down. He pulled away from the kiss first, tugging lightly at the silky fabric of the dress to encourage it to slip off your body. Once you had your arms free of the straps, the fabric slipped smoothly down your body and pooled at your feet. Aaron’s breath hitched as he took in your appearance before his lips were back on yours and you could feel his growing erection pushing into you.

“I… I need you,” you managed to mutter between breathless kisses. Your underwear was practically soaking now, you needed Aaron inside of you immediately.

“Get on the bed,” he whispered against your lips in a commanding tone. You did as he instructed and laid on the bed. You looked back up at Aaron’s tall, dominating stance from where he stood looking down at you from the end of the bed. You bit your lip as you looked at the bulge straining against Aaron’s trousers, spreading your legs apart ever so slightly to show Aaron that you were ready for him.

Aaron got down onto his knees and pulled you closer towards him by your ankles. He started kissing gently up your legs, scattering small pecks here and there before he reached your thighs where he then started to nip lightly at the skin. You gasped out in shock at the sudden feeling of his teeth on your skin and were now very aware of how close Aaron was to your soaked pussy.

“A…Aaron,” you breathed out. “I need you…”

“Do you trust me?” Aaron asked from his position between your legs and you nodded quickly.

His fingers hooked under the fabric of your underwear and he began pulling them down your legs until you were completely free of the wet fabric. Aaron then returned to your centre and slowly slid two fingers inside of you.

“So wet already…” Aaron mused as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you gently.

You gasped at the pleasure and grasped at the bed sheets when Aaron’s thumb made contact with your clit. Then suddenly, Aaron ducked his head down and before you could ask what he was doing, his tongue swiped through your wet folds.

“Oh!” you gasped out as Aaron stayed buried between your thighs, his tongue circling around your clit. Your hand found its way into Aaron’s hair, grasping it between your fingers and pulling on it ever so gently.

The taste of your arousal on Aaron’s tongue was enough to push him over the edge as he traced his tongue back and forth through your folds, his tongue swirling and circling again and again around your clit, your hips bucking up slightly at the pleasure.

“You’re…. you’re really good at this,” you managed to whisper through your pleasure. No previous partner had ever gone down on you before, Aaron was opening your eyes to a whole new world of pleasure.

He hummed something from between your thighs and the vibrations that followed through your body were enough to tip you over the edge. Aaron kept teasing his tongue through your folds, his hands had a strong grip on your hips to keep you in place as he pushed his tongue hard around your clit.

“Aaron… I’m going to,” you couldn’t finish your sentence as the orgasm took over your body. The moans that left your throat motivated Aaron to keep teasing and circling your pussy as he began to taste all of you.

Once you came back to your senses, you pulled Aaron up so that he was hovering over you and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

“That was… incredible.” You mumbled against his slightly swollen lips. “But now I need you inside of me.”

Aaron chuckled before looking into your eyes and muttering something along the lines of ‘so desperate’ as he pulled back from you and looked down at your naked body.

“Please Aaron…” you groaned as you sat up and impatiently reached for his belt, beginning to unbuckle it.

As soon as Aaron was rid of his trousers and boxers, he was hovering above you and placing kisses along your jaw and neck.

“Ready?” Aaron asked between kisses.

“Yes!” you replied desperately.

Aaron reached down and aligned his cock with your centre, rubbing the head through your wet folds a few times before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You gasped at the sudden fullness and gripped Aaron’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Ok?” Aaron asked and you nodded quickly.

Aaron then began rocking his hips against yours at a teasingly slow pace, nearly pulling out of you before he thrust his length back inside of your pussy.

“Harder.” You said in between your breathless moans and Aaron quickly obliged, his pace quickening as he began to fuck you hard.

“Been thinking about this…” Aaron grunted as he thrust into you. “All day.”

“Me too!” You replied and moaned loudly as Aaron fucked deeper into you, hitting the right stop.

Your moans, Aaron could listen to them all day – they were enough to push him tumbling over the edge, but he tried to restrain himself for as long as he could.

“Touch yourself,” Aaron instructed.

You did as he said and started circling your clit as Aaron’s thrusts began to become sloppy as he reached closer and closer to his own pleasure.

“Fuck!” Aaron hissed as he come inside of you. The sudden heat that filled you up was enough to then push you over the edge into blinding pleasure as Aaron rode out his orgasm.

“Oh! Aaron…” you moaned into his neck, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders as Aaron’s pace began to slow down.

Aaron was mindlessly twiddling his fingers through the ends of your hair as the two of you laid in each other's arms. Your body still tingled with Aaron’s touch and satisfaction flowed through your veins.

“Now all this wedding shit is over, I can finally thank you properly for agreeing to come with me.” You said as you snuggled closer into Aaron’s chest.

“You’ve been thanking me all weekend honey,” Aaron replied and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Again, if I hadn’t agreed to come with you, I’d still be silently pinning for you from my office.”

“If you hadn’t come, I don’t think I’d have been able to make it through the week without committing murder.” You laughed and sat up to look at him. “And of course, I would never have had the opportunity to tell you how I’ve been madly in love with you since the day I joined the BAU.”

“I love you so much,” Aaron smiled, sitting up slightly so he was now elevated on his arm.

“I love you too.” You smiled brightly and leaned down to capture Aaron’s lips in a quick, chaste kiss. “You have been the best fake boyfriend ever.”

Aaron let out a hearty laugh before looking back at you with nothing but complete adoration in his eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“I hope I’m not being too bold to assume that my title has been upgraded?” He asked with an anxious smile.

“Aaron Hotchner is this your attempt to ask me to be your girlfriend?” you laughed and a red tint tinged the tips of Aaron’s ears.

“Well…” Aaron couldn’t find the words.

You laughed loudly before throwing your arms around his neck and peppering his cheek and jawline with kisses.

“I’d love nothing more than to be officially known as your girlfriend.” You smiled and Aaron leaned up to place a bruising kiss on your lips. “You’re now my go-to wedding date.” You smiled brightly and Aaron chuckled.

***

One year later

A knock on his office door drew Aaron from his thoughts. He put down the file he had been looking at and turned to face the door where you were standing.

“Agent Y/L/N,” Aaron said in his ‘professional’ voice. “Come in.”

You walked into the office and shut the door behind you as you produced a pink envelope which Aaron rose an eyebrow at.

“What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“So, big news.” You began, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Livvy’s and Greg’s wedding invitation has just been delivered!”

“Brilliant,” Aaron replied in a monotonous tone, his eyes had drifted back to the file he had previously been reading.

“Aaron! This is important!” You scold him as you sit yourself down on the chair across from his desk.

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m listening. Liv’s wedding invitation, yes?”

“Yes! It’s in 3 months' time. 25th September in LA of course.” You smiled, sliding the invitation across the desk for Aaron to read.

“Is this your way of asking for the time off?” He asked, a teasing look in his eyes.

“you’re so funny…” you rolled your eyes. “I thought you’d know by now baby, you’re always my go-to wedding date remember.��

“Of course! How could I forget.” Aaron replied sarcastically but with a small smile on his lips. “Luckily this time, we won’t have to pretend we’re dating.”

You laughed as you took the invitation back from Aaron. “That’s very true!” Aaron stood up as he walked you to the door of his office.

“So save the date Hotchner, 25th September you’re coming back to LA with me. Back to see my psychotic family.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Y/L/N.” Aaron chuckled and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“Not very appropriate workplace behaviour Sir,” You teased him.

“It’s a good thing my blinds are closed then,” Aaron smirked and ducked his head down to place another searing kiss on your lips.

#The Wedding Date #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut

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shadowbriar · 10 months

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James Potter - Call It Fate, Call It Karma

Pairing : James Potter x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3k Warning : Plenty of curse words. Synopsis : James' world was flipped upside down as the engagement ring now sits on the wrong girl's finger. Notes : Post no 4 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ James Potter's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @coffeehurricanes @ineedmentalhelp123

James stares at his own reflection, whispering silent prayers as if they were a magic spell to help ground himself, tame the loud beating of his heart and provide the least bit of tranquillity for his troubled mind. It has been days since he’s got a good sleep. The days coming to Remus’ wedding have acted like a ticking time bomb, building anticipation of the apocalypse bound to happen once it explodes.

He wasn’t sure exactly the cause of his consternation. He supposed, wanting to get on your knees and ask your lover for their hand in marriage will surely cause you waves of jitters. The black velvet box in his pocket feels heavier each time he tries to silently reach for it. But could that be it? Could his nervousness to propose to Lily be the sole cause of his distress?

“You’re going to be alright,” James mutters to himself, taking deep breaths between his words “She’s not going to be here.”

A hard slap to his own cheek was done at the realisation of his words. Why would he say that? Why would he even think of her? He has Lily and his mother’s diamond ring to think about. How could she even slip herself in his mind at times like this?

Now James hates to admit it, but the little voice in his heart knew that Remus’ wedding and his plan to propose to Lily was nothing as terrifying as the idea of meeting his Hogwarts’ sweetheart after what seems to be forever. Their abrupt separation before graduation has left scars that James knew would never heal. The kind of marks that will always haunt your nights, making you ponder the unanswered what if scenarios.

The fear of meeting her has always been so grand that James never had the heart to ask Remus if he’s invited her to his wedding. They all have been great friends back in school, it would be more of an appalling fact to know that Remus didn’t invite her, so he remained quiet, letting time to provide him his answer.

“She’s going to be there,” James whispered quietly “And you’re going to be okay with it because she’s no one now. She’s a nobody.”

James nods to himself. The feigned determined expression on his face was fooling no one but it was the only thing he could do for himself. He can’t discuss this with Remus, Remus certainly has a lot on his plate already to prepare for the wedding. He can’t talk about this to Peter or Sirius either because he’s always acted as if he’s completely buried the thought of her though he always wondered if any of his best friends were ever convinced of such an act. And surely, James can’t share this with Lily because what would she think about him then?

The loud banging of his hotel door rudely breaks his train of thoughts. He could tell that the man standing behind the door would be none other than Sirius. There’s no one in this entire universe that is more loud and obnoxious than him.

“Prongs!” Sirius greets once the door is opened for him “Ah, you look grand, mate!”

James forced a smile, letting Sirius to get inside his suite.

“So I’ve got news for you. Good news and bad news. Which do you prefer to hear first?” Sirius asks, rubbing his hands together in an apprehensive manner “Knowing you, I’d go with the good news first. So the good news is, you, me, Remus, and Peter are going to go spend the night at the bar close by and live our life as if we never left that dreary dormitory room back in Hogwarts.”

“Tonight?” James asked “I don’t know mate, I’ve been feeling under the weather lately. I’m afraid I have to sit this one out. I might skip Remus’ wedding tomorrow if I don’t.”

“Nonsense! It’s the groom’s request and you’re one of his groom’s men so you have no other choice but to obliged.”

James rolled his eyes, groaning, “Fine. What’s the bad news, then?”

“Uh, right, the bad news.” Sirius says, now placing an arm around the bespectacled boy in an attempt of consolation “She’s going to join us tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely sit this one out.” James says as he pushes Sirius’ arm and walks away.

“No, no, no, no! It’s going to be fine. You see, me and Peter have crafted this plan to keep the two of you separate. I’ll be your wingman and Peter will watch over her so the two of you won’t meet unless it's absolutely necessary.” Sirius explains, trying to coax James to give in “You can’t seriously think that we’ll allow you to miss the last night before Remus is married.”

“Yes, but it’s her, Pads!” James argues, running his hand through his hair in desperation “Meeting her would essentially end me, quite literally!”

“No, no it won’t! Me and Peter will be there, remember?” Sirius lures “And you’ll be busy with Lily too, won't you? She’ll tether you to the ground.”

James groans once more, “Lily won’t be here until tomorrow morning. She’s stuck with her sister.”

“Oh,” Sirius grimaced.

James wasn’t sure if such a response was due to the fact that Lily’s sister is a terrible person to be stuck with or that Lily’s absence would cause greater chance of him to plummet back to the darkness. Either way it proved to be a better reason for him to skip this night out.

“Look, I love Remus and I’m sorry that it has to be this way, but I really don’t think I should come.” James says, his hand reaching to the velvet box in his pocket and showing it to Sirius “I can’t afford to make any mistake.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, staring at the box, “You’re planning to propose?”

“Not at Remus’ wedding, no,” James answers “But yeah.”

“To Lily?”

“Well, yeah. Who else?”

Sirius frowns and James wasn’t sure if that was solely caused by his surprise or was there any other underlying reason as to why he wasn’t ecstatic to hear this. James expected him to be as delighted as when Remus announced his engagement. He could clearly remember the expressions plastered on each of his friends’ faces that night. Now such joy seems to be void of Sirius’ face.

“I— We’ll talk more about this later but you need to come with us tonight. You have to!” Sirius says again “I swear on my parents’ name that you won’t talk to her tonight. Like I said, I’ll be your wingman.”

“You have no regards for your parents’ Sirius. That’s not a very convincing swear.”

“Well who else do you want me to swear their name upon? My Death Eater brother?”

“Ex-Death Eater.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, “Fine, I swear on Regulus’ name that you won’t talk to her tonight. Now will you please hurry and change out of your ugly shirt? Wear something more decent, won’t you?”

—-

It was comforting. The layers of blanket wrapping her body, soft pillows around her head and the warmth it brought to her were something she wished she could keep in a bottle. Waking up in hotel beds has always been something she adores. It reminds her of her own bed back in Hogwarts, familiar and comfortable.

Her eyes were still half opened, trying to adjust to the brightness the sunlight was peeking through the sheer curtain. She must have forgotten to properly close it last night. Hell, she couldn’t even recall how she managed to get back to her hotel room. The last she could remember was meeting Remus and his fiancé before being whisked away by Peter to take shots by the bar.

The rest of the night felt like a complete skip of nothingness. She hoped that whatever happened last night wouldn’t cause Remus any trouble or embarrassment for herself. She does have the tendency to cause problems whenever she’s taken one too many drinks.

Her brows were knitted when a foreign object was felt as she rubbed her eyes. She stares at the solitaire ring now sitting beautifully on her left ring finger. It was gleaming under the limited light of the room. Whose ring was this?

“Good morning,” She heard a man’s voice greet her.

The sound was very pleasant to her ear. Like a warm cosy home you haven’t visited in a while but managed to return to after a while. It fills her heart with contentment, joy, and tranquillity. As if her heart was ready to implode from the satisfactory feeling. But the more her senses awake, the more consciousness she gained, she recognises whose voice this beautiful sound belongs to.

“Potter?!” She screams, pushing him who had his arms around her waist out of the bed “What are you doing in my room?!”

“I— What?!” James woke up from the scream, frantic to find the situation he’s in “What the— What’s going on?! I thought you were Lily!”

“I should be asking you that question! What are you doing in my room?!”

James grabs his glasses that were sitting by the bedside table, assessing the suite with half sleepy eyes, “This is my room! Those are my coat and shoes by the door, see?”

“I— Then what the hell am I doing here?!”

“I don’t know! You’re the one trespassing!”

“I did no such thing! I was at the bar with Peter and then— I just— What?!”

Her chest was heaving in panic. Her eyes crazed, looking around the suite to understand the setting better. She wasn’t supposed to be in this room. She wasn’t supposed to be in James Potter’s room. Hell, she wasn’t even supposed to meet him. She’s sworn to steer clear of his presence and it was the only condition she gave to Remus before agreeing to come to his wedding, that she would be placed as furthest as possible from him. So how is it that she’s finding herself on his bed right now?

“What is that?” James asked, pointing at the ring on her finger “Why do you have my mother’s ring on you?”

“I don’t fucking know, Potter. It found itself sitting there the moment I opened my eyes.” She spat, trying to take the ring off of her but proved to have such an action failing “What the hell?”

“Take it off!”

“I’m trying!” She yells “It won’t come off!”

“I— Shit, why do I have this on me too?” James questions as he notices a matching ring on his finger “Where was this from?”

“You’re asking me? Do I look like I know anything about rings?!” She says irritatedly, still trying to get the ring off of her “I can’t take this off unless we cut my finger.”

“Well, that’s an idea.”

She glares at him, not saying a word.

“This is bad.” James mutters as he begins to pace, feeling the anxiety to sink in “That was supposed to be on Lily’s finger, not yours!”

“Lily? Lily Evans?”

“Which other Lily do you know?”

“You’re planning to propose to Lily?” She asks, looking baffled now “How did you even manage to date her? She’s way beyond your league.”

James blinks, offended by her comment, “Mind you, I am in the same league as her. We’ve been happily together for years now.”

“Wait, you’re planning to propose to her at Remus’ wedding?” She questions “Talk about stealing your best friend’s thunder.”

“I— No, I wasn’t planning to propose to her today, okay! I only have the ring with me as an anchor so can you please take it off and return it before I’m losing my last strands of sanity.”

“It’s not coming off, I told you!”

James groans in despair, running his hand through his hair. He could feel his pillars crumbling down. That demon is finally claiming his soul once more. He has to force himself to walk further from the bed, pacing around the empty space so he could stop himself from staring at her. Even with such effort to create distance between them, James knows that he couldn’t fool himself. The crazy beating of his heart when he saw her have done more damage than he could ever afford to face.

Then suddenly, a loud banging on the door was heard. James turned his eyes to see her, seeing that panic on her face at the demanding sound. Sirius was persistent with his knocking.

“Don’t open it,” She warns “Don’t let anyone in. We can’t talk to anyone until we figure out what happened to us.”

“Nothing happened between us.” James says, not wanting to yield to reality just yet “You were just drunk and you mistakenly thought that my suite was yours.”

“Oh, I was drunk? How about you, do you remember anything then?” She challenges, pointing to the engagement ring on her finger “Have any clue as to why this ring of yours is on my finger?”

“I— Fuck!” James cruses, rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm himself “I have to open the door. Sirius won’t stop knocking unless I do.”

“Sirius’ knocking is the least of our troubles. What we need to do now is to trace down what happened to us last night. I refuse to go out of this door wearing this stupid ring. What am I to say if others ask?!”

“Well, I can’t remember shit from last night so we’ll only be running in circles, Sweetheart.” James retorts “And mind you, it’s not a stupid ring. It’s my mother’s.”

Her expression softens a little. Memories of how sweet and loving Euphemia Potter was came rushing in like a tidal wave. James’ mother has always been so fond of her, treating her as if she was her own daughter. She would always remember how his mother would compliment them two, saying that they remind her of how in love she was with James’ father back in the day. Now such memories only do more harm than good for her sanity.

Taking her silence as staleness in their argument, James walks himself to the door. His steps were wide and angry. Irritated by the persisting banging done by Sirius, his lack of understanding of the trouble he finds himself in, and the crazy beating of his heart from being in her presence.

“What?!” James spat at Sirius as he opened the door, barely so that Sirius won’t be able to peek inside.

“I— Geez mate, woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Sirius asked with a raised brow “I was just worried you’ll miss the wedding. You disappeared last night, I thought something happened.”

Something did happen, James thought, but found himself shaking his head instead, “No, nothing happened. I was just about to take a shower and get ready. Thanks for checking up on me.”

Sirius nods, unimpressed by his words but takes it in anyway. He opens his mouth before closing it once again. Looking as if he has something to ask but decides to not to. Whatever that question might be, James was glad that it was never uttered. He has plenty on his plate already at the moment.

“Right,” Sirius says instead “I’ll see you at the venue, then.”

James nods, closing the door as Sirius turns his heels away.

He let out a relieved sigh once the clicking sound of the door was heard. James closes his eyes before turning to see her again. She was still on his bed, buried under the many blankets and pillows around her. If this wasn’t reality, James would’ve enjoyed such sight and count this as his family friendly wet dream.

“Who was it?”

“Sirius,” James answered “He wanted to check up on me. Said I disappeared last night. I didn’t tell him anything, don’t worry.”

She nodded, “So what are we to do now?”

“I don’t know.” James says, defeated that he has no proper answer to give her “I— Lily and I were supposed to meet at the venue. She doesn’t know that I was planning to propose. I guess I can just bullshit my way and say that this is just a dress ring and it’s stuck on me for the moment.”

“Alright,” She bobs her head in understanding “Then what about me? What am I to tell people? Cause people will ask.”

“Well, maybe you can just lie and say that you recently got engaged? At least until we can figure out a way to get that ring out of your finger.”

“But I don’t have a partner. If I do and I just recently got engaged, shouldn’t my fiancé be my plus one? People will ask more questions about his wherebeing.”

“Well, do you have any better excuse? Fire away, I’m open for suggestions.”

She rolls her eyes, finding his sarcastic response to be the very least helpful, “Fine, I’ll do that.”

James watches as she begins to collect her purse and jacket that was scattered on the carpeted floor. He tries to bite down the slight satisfaction of hearing that she was single. He knew that it was wrong to feel this way and it has been years since they met, surely she’s dated other people after their separation, but to know that she wasn’t bound with anyone the moment they had their reunion sparked something inside him. Something that he knew was so sinful that he would never be able to atone.

“Can you check if the hallway is clear? I don’t want to meet anyone as I come out of your door.”

James nods, peeking out of the empty hall before turning back to her with a nod.

“Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even breathe my way at the venue.” She said to him, finger firmly pointing at him in a threatening manner “I will hex you to death right on the spot if you do.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

She gave him a glare one last time before leaving his suite. James could finally let out the breath he unconsciously held once he was left alone. He walks back to his bed, sitting on it and hating the fact that her perfume lingers on its cover. Now he wouldn’t be able to shake the sweet scent off of his mind, even if he was to obliviate himself to it. But then again, what is a wedding without some drama, right?

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter scenario #james potter scenarios #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter oneshot #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x oc #james potter x y/n

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thedeviltohisangel · 2 months

Text

All The Things I Did (3): Don't Leave Me Alone

chronology: chapter 1 chapter 2 interlude 1 chapter 3 interlude 2

a/n: well well well. here i am again. not as sad as interlude 2 i promise. i put them in chronologic order up top for all the new fans of this fic. focusing on gale and cass this chapter. i've appreciated all the screams in my ask box (i will explain anything about spook x bucky i've got going on in my head whenever you want, shoot me a dm) and will work on more interludes this weekend. keep the prompts coming! good a good mix of current & post war bucky x spook. love you guys and enjoy this longer one in celly of the finale.

Of all the places for them to bump into each other, no one should have been surprised it was in the base library. It was small and quiet and didn’t have the nicest lighting. But it had plenty of books on plenty of topics and very few people ever frequented it. Normally, it was her place to unwind and seek solace. Breathe in the scent of the worn bindings and get lost for a few hours. Cass wasn’t sure if John even knew it existed so it only made sense that this is where Gale would find her first.

Gale Cleven had been in communication with John Egan since their first day of basic training. Had watch him fly and crash on occasion. Watched him flirt and dance and take girls home. Only a few times had watched him give a piece of his heart and never once had he watched it go anywhere. When he had sent him the unicorn to pass along as an apology to a bar owner in Greenland, John had written one line at the end that made him more confused than the figurine had. A little note at the bottom: P.S. I think I’ve found my girl.

Gale hadn’t known then, wouldn’t know for awhile, that Bucky had only seen her across the airfield when he had written that. Hadn’t even spoken a word to her. Had taken one look at the way every man on that base stopped and parted for her. One look at the way she navigated herself around the airfield while never looking up from the paper in front of her. John Egan had been gone like a freight train.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Cooper?” She was in an armchair in the back of the library, curled up as much as her uniform would allow, thumbing through a book on Prussian history with two others opened and balancing precariously on either side of her and a stack of yet-to-be-read books piled on the floor. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d introduce myself. Gale Cleven, friends call me Buck.”

“My friends call me Cass.” She shook his hand as firmly as she could, her right arm in a sling. “You know, John has a whole thing planned for us to meet. He’ll be heartbroken.” Him and Cass had spent the night on a blanket in the flowers, just like she had wanted upon her return. He told her all about his best friend Buck and that introducing her to him was almost like her meeting his sisters or mother. Joked that she needed Buck’s approval before he could take her on another date.

“We can work on our story. Let him still have his moment.” Cass smiled and motioned for Gale to take the chair next to her. She placed a notecard between the pages to keep her place before giving him her full attention.

“I’m sorry your first impression of me was when I got off that plane yesterday. I promise I’m not always that dramatic.” Gale laughed. The swelling in her eye had gone down slightly and there was color back to her cheeks. Maybe a couple of new bruises on her neck but he assumed his friend was more likely the culprit of those than the secret police.

“I barely noticed over the commotion of Bucky.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she noted shyly. All of a sudden her fingernails were much easier to look at than Buck’s gaze.

“I’ve known Bucky, John, a long time. You’ve enraptured him, Lieutenant.” Gale hadn’t expected such a reaction either. Bucky had always been somewhat impulsive, sure, but always with a personal gain in mind. Win the bet. Win the girl. Win the game. But yesterday had been near primal. A base instinct to protect. To put himself in between her and those who would do her harm. It had come as natural as breathing.

“Your word choice is inspiring, Major Cleven.” Her eyes twinkled. She knew.

“Has he serenaded you yet? Then you’ll really be inspired.”

“I don’t know if that is what I would call it. I haven’t worked my way to that level of affection yet.” He thought back to the desperation in John’s voice when he called Cass’ name yesterday. Thought back to the venom that replaced it when someone got in the way of him reaching her.

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.” She ducked away from his gaze again.

“Don’t tell him I’m telling you this, but I’m pretty enraptured by him, too.” Gale reached over and squeezed her hand, locking the secret between them, and stood up to let her get back to her reading and to find the book he had come here looking for in the first place. “Cass? I’ve got a favor to ask. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Something wrong, Buck?”

“No. Just something that’s been on my mind since he left.” He mulled over the words for a moment. “He’s got a big heart. Does a good job at hiding it. I’ve been doing my best to protect it since the day I met him but if something happens to me up there…”

“You don’t even need to ask, Gale.” She would be his armor. Protect John Egan the way her soul had told her she should from the second she laid eyes on him. Had recognized the purity within him and felt the need to protect it. Cassandra Ann Cooper had been gone for John Egan the moment he stepped foot in England.

Gale nodded in appreciation. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He walked to a shelf out of her sightline and Cass sighed deeply. She had faced down some scary people. But that interaction had her stomach in more knots than any of them. She had met, and talked to, and hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of, Major Gale Cleven. Cass smiled. John was going to be so happy when he found out.

----

The man in question was having a bit of a devious streak. Decided he was going to be early to pick up Cass instead of simply on time. Decided, after five minutes of waiting, that it had been too long since he last kissed her. Mary rolled her eyes when he came strolling in, thinking better of it when she opened her mouth to ask what he was up to.

“Mary, I swear if Major Egan is early, tell him I’m not ready.” He smiled as he heard Cass answer his knock.

“Too late, Spook. Let me in so I can see whatever potions you're brewing to look so goddamn beautiful.”

“Are you calling me a witch?” Her voice was closer this time. John pressed his palm to the door where he imagined hers was.

“I miss your face,” he provided simply.

“I have curlers in my hair.” Her mother had never let her father see her with her curlers in. Even after thirty or so years of marriage. Told Cass it took away the allure of femininity.

“Good. I’ve been imagining what you might look like in my bed in the morning-” He almost fell through the door when she opened it, her fist around his tie and all confidence choking off in his throat.

“No remarks like that in the hallway where anyone can hear you.” Cass sat back down at her vanity for the finishing touches of mascara and powder.

“Afraid they won’t find you so spooky anymore?” There weren’t too many artifacts of her life for him to look at. Photos of what she presumed were her parents and her siblings. A pile of letters with a return address in South Carolina. A jewelry box on top of her dresser.

“I don’t mind the nickname. I never had one growing up.” John stopped to admire her in the mirror as she pulled the curlers from her hair. He swallowed. It did look like he imagined she would be waking up next to him. How she would be after spending the night letting him worship her.

“Hey, wait on that for a second.” Cass put the tube of lipstick down and looked at him with a question across her brow. “Don’t want to mess it up when I kiss you.” She smiled and crooked her finger to beckon him forward, standing on her vanity chair as he got closer.

“So handsome,” she sighed as she took the opportunity of her newfound height to really take him in. She knows he would disagree but Cass found something ethereally beautiful about John Egan. The slope of his nose and the angles of his cheeks. The soft hair on his upper lip that she had found such joy in kissing.

“I’m glad you think so.” He started with just a quick peck, enjoying the look of annoyance on her face.

“That’s not worth holding up my lipstick application for.” John took that as a challenge. He felt guilty for only a second as he tangled his fingers into the curls at the back of her head and held her steady. John was trying to be mindful of the healing cut on her lip but she was pushing herself closer and closer and he had no choice but to give her more and more. It wasn’t slow. It was a spark spinning itself into a fire. An ember catching fire on all the things around it. He was a man starved for her oasis. She was a girl all too eager to tantalize him in the desert.

John slid his arms to wrap tightly around her waist, lifting her against his body and turning so her back was against the wall. Instinctually, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped into his mouth at the sensation. “Fuck, Cass.”

“John, we have to slow down.” She was enjoying his lips that had moved to her throat all much. Was so flushed with desire for him that beads of sweat were collecting in her collarbone. Cass unwrapped her legs from around his waist and John smiled with pride when her knees buckled ever so slightly.

“You’re right. Do this the right way. The slow way.” He straightened his tie and bent down when Cass reached up to fix his hair.

“Doesn’t have to be slow forever. Sir.” She knew exactly what she was doing when she said it. Relished in the way it made his eyes darken with lust again immediately. “We’re going to be late to dinner. And I already made a literally bloody first impression with Gale.”

“Come to think of it,” he noted as she expertly coated the red pigment around her lips, “it might’ve been more fun to try and kiss it off of you, Lieutenant.”

“There’s always later.”

He watched her hips sway to the Jeep, held her hand while he drove and smiled so wide it hurt when she slid across the bench and kissed his cheek. It all felt so normal. Felt like he was back home taking a girl to a movie and milkshakes on a Friday night. Felt like being with her was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Before you ask, no, we are not going back to the pub tonight.”

“Oh?” she asked as they drove right past. “Our memories from the other night incapable of being topped?”

“Just thought we would meet him somewhere nicer. This little bistro up the way a little bit.”

“John Egan, are you nervous?”

“Maybe.” She laughed but snuggled into his side.

“It’s very sweet that you love Gale so much.”

“Don’t tell him. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Cass thought back to her conversation with Gale in the library. About the mushy heart right behind the very ribcage her cheek was resting against.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m good at keeping secrets.”

----

Gale watched from the window by the table as John’s Jeep pulled into view, smiling to himself as Cass held his friend’s and kissed him. Stayed close to whisper reassuring words and knock his nose against hers to seal the promise.

“Bucky you lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered. They held hands as they walked in and when she let go to shake Gale’s hand, firmer this time as the sling hadn’t gone with her dress, John had kept his hand on the small of her back. Looking back on it, Gale doesn’t think there was a moment the whole night they weren’t touching.

“Cass, this is the best man I’ve ever met, Major Gale Cleven. But I call him Buck.”

“Gave everyone else no choice but to call me Buck, too.” John pulled her chair out for her and pushed it in, sitting straight as a rod in his own until her arm locked around his comfortably. He visibly relaxed and kissed her forehead when she offered it.

The conversation flowed smoothly, John none the wiser the two of them had already met. Buck had her giggled over stories of a younger Bucky, taking her back to their days when they were first learning to fly. She asked about Marge and John noticed the way her chin dropped into her hand and she watched Gale with adoration as he spoke about the woman he had loved since he was a child. And would love until the day they died.

“She sounds absolutely lovely, Gale.” Cass reached across the table and squeezed his hand when his gaze turned melancholy for a moment.

“If you’re crazy enough to see it through with this one,” his chin jutted towards John, “I’m sure you and Marge will be thick as thieves.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a guy,” he spoke around bites of his dinner.

“John, you’ve got a little…” Cass motioned to the corner of her mouth to signal a bit of sauce was lingering on his. Without even really thinking about it, she used the corner of her own cloth napkin to dab away the offense.

“Better?”

“Perfect.” Gale could lose his stomach with the sweetness. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me to the powder room.” John stood as she left, watching her with a dazed smile on his face until Buck coughed.

“She’s something, Bucky. A real class act. Whip smart. Has you wrapped around her finger many times over.” John hummed around his sip of whiskey.

“I’ll keep wrapping myself around it as long as she’ll have me.”

“Yeah? I should tell you she’s too good for you.”

“You’d be right. I don’t deserve someone like her.” He swirled his glass pensively. “You know I love you and I love Marge and I love the little world you two build whenever you're together. I’ve always wanted that but kept getting in my own way. Chasing the immediate instead of being patient. Cass and I, it’s going fast because of this fucked world we live in. And I’m not getting in my own way because I’ve found a girl who won’t let me.”

“Watching you two, I think it’s real, John.”

“I think it is too,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ve got to make it through this thing, Buck. I came here with nothing to lose but now I’ve got something I couldn’t stand to.” There was something desperate in his eyes. The same look Gale had seen yesterday when he was fighting the officer to reach Cass.

“Feels nice to have someone to live for, doesn’t it?” he teased.

“Nice, scary, like I’m being mauled by Meatball.” They both laughed in spite of the truth. “You think she’s smitten with me?” Gale rolled his eyes.

“I do.” Bucky nodded.

“Good.” Cause he thinks he might love her.

“Sorry for the prolonged departure.” She came back with a smile, John standing and kissing her gently. “Major, I just reapplied that.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Didn’t want to.

He watched her and Gale banter back and forth the rest of the night with a smile on his face. Cass was the first girl he was introducing to his best friend, wished it was under better circumstances. Wished he had met her somewhere the threat of not making it to tomorrow didn’t exist. That he could court her properly and take her to the drive in and canoeing on the lake by his parents house and listen to a ballgame on the radio in the summer. Wished he had the courage to tell her and Buck that he was scared of losing them both. That he had been up there once and would back up a hundred times more if it meant they could live in a safer world.

And one day, after all three of them had done their part to end this war, John will mention this dinner at Buck’s wedding. And Buck will mention it when John asks him to be their child’s Godfather. But they didn’t know what they would have to go through to get there. That John’s fear of losing them both will come true. And that he would almost lose himself in the process of getting them back.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

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With Playful land ending soon, can you try which part of the Halloween event is better which is either Playful Land or Glorious Masquerade? For example, the topic is characters and you picked Glorious Masquerade because of etc like that. (NRC cast design, NRC cast role, Yuu and Grimm's role, New character/s, Movie-inspiration event, Plot, Music, Place Setting, Opening, Ending) You can add more topics if you want.

By “better”, I’m going to assume you mean which (between Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land) I preferred in each of those categories? (I say "preferred" here because I'm judging based on my own tastes; obviously everyone will have a different opinion on how the two events compare.)

It’s quite a few to get through, so I’ll just quickly summarize each. This post will also serve as my general thoughts on Stage in Playful Land.

***Spoilers for those two events below the cut!!***

NRC cast design — I’d say the designs are pretty split down the center?? In theory, I love the concept of masquerade balls and marionettes, but in practice the designs look all over the place and I really only like a select few of them.

NRC cast role — GloMasq was stronger in this, especially the choices for the SSR trio. Malleus and Idia are a deliberate rival and foil to Rollo, whereas Azul’s UM comes in clutch during the final showdown. Meanwhile in Playful Land only Kalim seemed to be very significant story-wise; he was the one trying to convince everyone to sit down, eat, and try to understand Fellow’s motives, is the last to be captured, and gives the big speech about how he’ll never abandon his friends + the importance of school. Ace has his usual schtick of being brutally honest and there are some parts where Ortho’s robotic abilities come in handy (like playing sounds to distract the puppets), but these seem like very minor roles compared to what the GloMasq trio did. Perhaps they were good choices for the end when they all decided to destroy the amusement park though??

I also feel like some things the SSR trio does in Playful Land (like dispersing the puppets by using a “lost item”) could have been done by any smart or deceptive character (Leona, Vil, Cater, etc.), not just the SSRs (ie Ace). Furthermore, the other cast members in GloMasq seem much more important in how they split off and battle—there are good reasons or synergy given as to why they pair up the way they did (ie Riddle and Epel needing to be good flyers, Ruggie and Jamil willing to use others as meat shields, etc), while in Playful Land it seems more random (like Floyd losing interest) or obligatory (mostly the third years stepping up to defend the younger students).

It’s also anticlimactic how Fellow just let them all go??? Especially compared to Malleus, Idia, and Azul and Rollo squaring off to the bitter end.

Yuu and Grim’s role — Once again, this goes to GloMasq. In Playful Land, Yuu is automatically caged and tossed into a corner to wait it out to the climax. At least in GloMasq Yuu is actually doing something (even if it is offscreen): they’re with Grim and Trein, helping the townspeople from the flowers. (Note: I’m not entertaining the “but Yuu is magicless! It was a wasted opportunity for them not to have a bigger role in GloMasq!” thing because I’m talking only about canon and not hypotheticals here.)

New character(s) — … Do you even need to ask 😭 Obviously, I’m loyal to Roro-chan Rollo; I just find his story and character to be super interesting, especially with the root of his conflict being inner turmoil and an inability to move on… It makes him an excellent foil to Idia.

While I do also enjoy Fellow and Gidel, I feel that I’m not as invested in them because despite the terrible dark shit they're doing, the conflict they get wrapped up in gets resolved in an underwhelming manner. Plus, there was not a lot of elaboration on their own backstories?? It was mostly told to us via Fellow, yet kept so vague that the fans are left to fill in many missing details on their own. I’ll have another post out later going into more depth with how I feel about Fellow and Gidel.

Movie-inspiration — I think both events have their moments of film inspiration. A lot of GloMasq's comes through in the traditions and culture of the city, whereas Playful Land's are embedded into the games, foods, rides, and attractions in the park itself. Playful Land feels more overt because of how flashy everything is, but also because it's not really based on any real-world area (unlike the City of Flowers/Fleur City, which is fantasy Paris and therefore also has Paris elements) it has to stand on its own. They don't need to worry about developing a unique "culture" for a smaller area like a park; they can just cut loose and have everything be fun and whimsical like Pleasure Island is. For this reason, I feel that Playful Land has stronger movie ties.

Side note: I want to put out the disclaimer that I personally don’t think how much an event references its source material should be counted when evaluating the quality of its writing. Just because you mention things from the film or reinterpret them doesn’t mean the story itself is good.

Music — I’m going to give this one to Glorious Masquerade because while the tracks are nice for both (I love the dramatic bells in GloMasq and the eerie music box of Playful Land, and both songs with lyrics are also great!). However, the narrative context and meaning behind the songs with lyrics are very different, and I feel that this makes Let My Wish Resound performance that much more meaningful. Additionally, Playful Land introduced a sung version of Rave Up! Up! in part 3 (even if it was just the first half of it) whereas GloMasq saved its sung version for part 5, which grants us more time to get hype. (I also like the rhythmic/twistune of the boys dancing over the boys… idk, dancing and doing property damage for funsies.)

Opening — Both openings do a good job at building up the hype for the ominous events to come, but again GloMasq wins on a technicality… which is the quality of the evil laughs given during them 💀 Fellow’s is kinda weak (like it stutters and sounds like he’s out of breath), at least Rollo can do a slow, unabashed laugh like a proper villain/j

Setting — This one’s suuuuper subjective; I don’t really like amusement parks I know, I’m boring so that automatically means I don’t find Playful Land to be a compelling or interesting setting (even if it fits thematically). I’d much rather just be allowed to wander and explore a city unsupervised, get to learn about its history and culture by experiencing it myself. GloMasq’s City of Flowers/Fleur City allows Twisted Wonderland to be expanded so much more (like, thinking about how this city relates to other cities and countries), whereas one isolated floating park doesn’t add much to the overall world lore.

Plot — Playful Land was so… boring 🤡 I’M SORRY, IT’S TRUE (to me)????? Like, they were just aimlessly wandering around during the second half of the event (even though it should be obvious that Fellow is at the theater)???? While at least in GloMasq they knew where to go (the bell tower) right away and strategized around that… Plus, we keep switching perspectives between the captured boys and the action, which bogs down the pacing. GloMasq keeps the action going and only takes very brief pauses to check in on our villain for the evening. There was way too much time spent meandering and not enough time spent actually Doing Things in Playful Land.

Stakes — GloMasq’s were higher. This isn’t to say that higher stakes automatically means the event itself is good. It’s just that the same urgency isn’t present in Playful Land because the scope of it is not as grand. If the crimson flowers/fire lotuses spread, there is no stopping them—and it endangers many people, communities, industries, etc. if they do. Meanwhile, a handful of people go missing in Playful Land. It’s still tragic, and their losses will still impact their loved ones—however, that’s still on a smaller scale than what the flowers would have done to their world.

Ending — GloMasq trumps. It’s just perfect how Rollo indicates he won’t give up and then drops ominous lines foreshadowing Malleus bringing ruin to them all (ie book 7) 😂 Love the pettiness of the banter, the ballroom setting, the perfectly timed delivery of the gift/song, and especially how Rollo’s punishment was so perfectly fitting for someone as neurotic and self-righteous as he is!! Also loved little details like the gargoyle and Trein wanting to keep an eye on Rollo 💕

The conflict resolution for Playful Land felt like a deus ex machina…? Fellow’s literally about to win (he caught them all) and the boys get let off the hook because Fellow had a change of heart. The boss told him it will cost a lot to repair the destroyed puppets so it’s coming out of his paycheck… That, and I guess all the stuff the boys were saying about how great school is finally got to him? Fellow got so fed up he called the whole thing off???? So he releases everyone and they all go around busting up the park???? I mean, they did foreshadow it by pointing out earlier how Fellow isn’t loyal to his boss + showing more phone calls where the boss is getting increasingly annoyed 💦 so it’s not as anticlimactic as Endless Halloween Night (one of my least liked events). I just mainly dislike how the conflict is triggered in part by Fellow’s boss being rude 😭 Like damn, what if his final straw hadn’t been claimed??? Then everyone is screwed.

At the very end, Fellow and Gidel decide to go on the run?? Which… isn’t an easy thing to do but it’s hand waved away so fast. If the staff meant for it to feel this way because the original Pinocchio also left Honest John and Gideon’s fates ambiguous and they did show remorse for their victims 💦 idk, it’s cases like this that make me think TWST is at its best when it does more of its own thing rather than strongly stick to the source material…

I also have?? Mixed thoughts on how TWST doesn’t follow up on the whole “yeah a bunch of rich people are caught up in running a human trafficking operation using this scary ass magic”. I know crime must exist in TWST, so in a sense this is… realistic??? But it feels odd to see such a big thing being casually mentioned and not being treated with full gravity?? (Maybe these are the types of crimes that special mage police defense forces (like the one Deuce wants to join) investigate??) Guess that’s just going to sit in the back of our heads from now on… It’s not satisfying seeing a story “end” like this, but I understand why it had to be 😭

The cathartic release of breaking down the park that once trapped them all is fun, but too goofy. I know it symbolizes a lot more than that, but it’s just not for me.

And so (to no one's surprise, given the frequency with which I talk about R*llo), I much prefer Glorious Masquerade to Stage in Playful Land. It's not even a contest to me. A certain pseudo-French boy aside, I just think the former has much better writing overall. By comparison, Stage in Playful Land has a very strong aesthetic and start, but not much else to keep me engaged??? It was an entertaining if not mid event aside from the big scare when the twist is initially revealed (because none of us expected it to be that dark) and minor other parts like Kalim’s big speech. The rest of the event felt like walking around and not doing anything useful.

I honestly think the failure of Playful Land to execute on its ideas comes in part from the hype of Halloween events (like, so much attention is put onto them that when Halloween events flop, it is SUPER noticeable) and the legacy of GloMasq (which set the bar VERY high) 💦 A shame, really…

Anyway, round of applause for Roro, who stays winnin’--

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