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dilemmaontwolegs · 4 months

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Ghost Whisperer || CL16

AN: another one from the archives of forgotten fics.

Summary: gifted with the ability to talk with the dead, you meet a man who wants you to take him to Monaco to check on his godson.

Warnings: mentions of death

Your family holiday had taken a turn when you reached Nice, France, and found the apartment that they had rented was already occupied. They were oblivious to the man who had lived there a decade earlier but your sixth sense had spotted him the moment you walked in the door.

“You’re going to love him,” Jules repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

“This isn’t Tinder,” you said to the apparition sitting in the passenger seat of your rental car. “I’m just going to find your friend so you can finally rest.”

“What’s Tinder?”

“Nevermind.”

“And he’s not just my friend,” he corrected. “He’s my godson, he’s family.”

You sighed as you imagined how the conversation would go with a child. It was hard enough trying to explain your gifts to adults who understood what you were saying, they just didn’t believe you. Everyone thought you were just trying to scam them when you said you had a message from a loved one.

“He’s the kindest kid you’ll ever meet. You’ll see.” Jules smiled as you followed his directions and crested over the mountain range to see Monaco in all its summer glory. “Beautiful, right?”

You were awestruck by the sight of the sun on the sea and his smile grew at your loss for words. It was a shame you had to drive when all you wanted to do was sit and watch the city grow before your eyes. Unfortunately it took a huge amount of energy for a ghost to even move a feather so there was no hope of Jules taking over the steering wheel for you.

Once inside the city he directed you to a home that the family had lived in and hopefully still did. The white door had a large brass door knocker in the shape of a lion and it was cold to the touch when you grabbed it.

“Bonjour,” a friendly middle aged woman answered and Jules breathed her name like prayer. “Puis-je vous aider?”

“Do you speak English?”

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

You looked to your left and Jules gave you an encouraging smile. “I was hoping to speak to Charles. Is he here?”

You were aware it was a weekday and he was likely at school but it was still disappointing to see Pascale shake her head. “He hasn’t lived here for some time, are you a friend of his?”

She was already growing defensive, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for your answer. “No, we don’t know each other but a mutual friend asked me to pass a message to him.”

“Aw, we are friends,” Jules chuckled and you had to fight to resist rolling your eyes.

“Perhaps I should call my son,” she murmured as she held a hand up. “Just wait here a moment.”

She closed the door behind her and you waited impatiently as you shifted on your feet. “What happens if she doesn’t give up his address?”

“The city isn’t that big, I’m sure we can find him.” His attention turned to the door and he went to nudge you but his elbow went straight through, causing goosebumps to travel across your skin.

“Stop doing that,” you growled as the door opened. Pascale gave you an odd look as she found you alone waiting, but she didn’t ask who you were talking to as she held a phone out.

“He wants to know who this mutual friend is.”

You took the phone and raised it to your ear. “Hello, is this Charles?”

“Yes, now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you trespassed?”

You reeled back at the animosity, but also the depth of his voice. He was not the child you had envisioned. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“I understand you are a fan and I appreciate that, but you cannot just keep showing up at my mother’s house and expect to find me. There is a boundary and this is crossing it.”

You pulled back the phone to look at it in disgust before you turned and took a step away from his mother. “I don’t know who you think you are, hot shot, but I was only doing this because your friend asked me to. For some reason he thinks highly of you, but I can’t say the same.”

The seconds dragged on and if it wasn’t for his soft breathing you would have thought the call disconnected. “Who?” he finally asked.

You took a steadying breath knowing this was almost always the point that you lost their interest. “Jules.”

“Goodbye.”

“Charles!” Your ears rang with Jules’ outburst and the screen pixelated before returning to normal to show the call was still connected. Charles’ breathing turned ragged as he choked on his tongue knowing the voice he had heard. Doubt and other emotions roiled his insides but he couldn’t hang up no matter how much he wanted to.

An address rattled off his heavy tongue and Jules recognised the street name, giving you a nod. “I’ll see you soon,” you said as you handed the phone back to his mother.

“Please don’t hurt him,” she asked as she pocketed the device.

“I just want to pass on a message and go back to my holiday,” you promised, though she frowned at the evasive words that created more questions she held back.

By force of habit, her frown deepened when you nodded your head to the empty space beside you and muttered, “Come on then.”

Jules lingered another moment, his hand reaching for Pascale’s only for her to shiver and wrap her arms around herself. With a sigh, he turned away and heard the door click shut behind him.

“She was like a second mother to me,” he said quietly as he caught up. “The kindest woman I knew.”

“You also said Charles would be great but so far that is not how I am feeling.”

Jules had nothing to say to that, but it had been 10 years since his death. Perhaps a decade had changed Charles while Jules remained the same.

–

The apartment building was as pretty as the rest that you had passed but the afternoon sun left a shadow climbing its walls and you couldn’t help feeling like it was an omen as you buzzed his apartment number. Instead of answering, the front door unlocked and you stepped inside apprehensively. Each step on the tiled floor echoed and you followed the apartment numbers as you climbed the stairs to Charles��.

His door was already opened, a handsome man leaning against the doorway, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned you with each step closer. You wanted to elbow Jules for not telling you his godson was Adonis reincarnated but Jules was in his own state of shock seeing Charles grown into adulthood. The boy he knew was long gone, this was a man.

“My mother said to listen to you, that is the only reason you are here.” He stood up straighter, blocking you from seeing the inside of his home. “Say what you need to then go.”

You looked at Jules but he wasn’t any help as his jaw still hung open. You decided to go with honesty but really you were just taking a shot in the dark, he didn’t seem like the type to believe anything that was going to come out of your mouth. “My AirBnB in Nice came with a ghost named Jules and he wanted me to find you.”

Charles' hands dropped limp at his sides before a sharp laugh erupted and he stepped back into this apartment. He reached for his door, ready to slam it closed when Jules emerged from his stupor and whispered a few words for you to repeat.

“Bring it home, underdog.”

Charles froze at the words and nearly stumbled as he spun around. Anger painted his face and he closed the distance in a few strides as he shoved a shaking finger in your face. “What did you say?”

You swallowed at the animosity in his tone before straightening your spine and looking him in the eye. “The only way you show these guys you’re not a charity case is to prove them wrong and win, kid.”

His nose twitched as he struggled to understand the words he had heard once before. “Who told you to say that?”

You jutted your thumb at Jules. “You know who, the same man that told me.”

An array of emotions flitted across his face before settling on disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“I wish,” you murmured before looking at Jules, and you felt bad. “Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t want that gift either,” he admitted. “Can you tell him he looks strong? And he finally grew into his big head.”

“Jules says you look good.”

“I said strong.”

“Strong, whatever,” you corrected. “He thinks you look strong. And you had a big head. Are you still racing?”

Charles followed your eyes to the space beside you but no matter how hard he tried to focus he couldn’t see anything. “I must be crazy.”

You snorted a laugh at what Jules said before repeating it. “No, you were crazy when you drove for years without knowing how to use the brakes.”

“I was eight,” Charles defended himself before realising that was not something widely known and something akin to wonder brightened his face. “Jules?”

“Yeah, kid, I’m here.”

Charles stepped aside and waved a hand in, urging you to follow him to the dining room table. He grabbed three bottles of water without thinking and then frowned as he put one back, a look of sadness washing over him.

“Don’t feel sad,” you said as you accepted the water. “Good things came about because of his death.”

Charles scoffed and untwisted the bottle cap with more force than necessary, spilling water over his hands. “Not for me.”

“You’re alive because of him, and that makes him happy,” you said, taking his hand across the table and squeezing it. “Because of Jules they made the halo and that saved your life, and others too. He would take the sacrifice any day.”

“Always,” Jules echoed. He placed his hand on top of yours and it drifted through, sending goosebumps up yours and Charles’ arms.

“Jules,” you growled as you shook your hand out, but Charles stared at his in wonder.

“I felt him,” he whispered in amazement. “Mon Dieu!”

—

The next few hours passed by with an onslaught of questions, mostly ‘how’. How do you do it? How long have you seen them? How did you find out?

Slowly the questions became more personal.

“Do you do this for work?”

“No way, well kind of, maybe…I’m studying history. It does help when the old professor still hangs out in the library. He’s happy to help whenever I have questions.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“It’s no different to a tall person playing basketball. Success is just playing to your strengths.”

“Is talking to the dead really a strength?” Jules asked as he crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on his lips, pondering. “Surely you are just missing out on life.”

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, you’re still here when you could be enjoying whatever afterlife awaits.”

“I wish I could hear him,” Charles sighed. “Why hasn’t he moved on?”

You shrugged and looked at Jules for an answer.

“I promised Hervé I would watch over him.”

Charles’ eyes misted and his head bowed as he tried to hide how he wiped the tears away. “I’m an adult now, Jules, you don’t have to stick around for me.”

“I see that now,” he said with a sad smile as he stood up and ruffled Charles' hair. “I love you, kid.”

Charles’ breath shuddered from his lungs as he felt the large hand on his head for a second before it disappeared. “Is he…is he gone?”

You watched Jules step out onto the balcony and warmth flooded the room as he faded into the shimmering light.

“Now he is,” you swallowed the lump in your throat that always came with the final goodbye. Standing up, you looked to the door and wondered if you should quietly leave but when you looked back at Charles, his eyes red and cheeks wet, you knew you couldn’t leave him that way.

Walking around the table, you took a seat next to Charles and took his hand. He broke away from staring silently at the wood grain and knots in the table and sniffled. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime but…”

You smiled as Charles managed a small chuckle. “I think once is enough, but I wonder…” he looked around the room. “You haven’t seen my father have you?”

You shook your head. “There wasn’t anyone at your mother’s house either. It’s likely if he was at peace then he’s already moved on.”

“Good, that’s good.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes, wincing at the dampness on his hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m used to it, you cry as much as you want. There isn’t exactly a right way to feel when it comes to this,” you admitted as you looked out of the balcony to see the marina looking even more beautiful.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” He caught your lingering gaze and cleared his throat. “Maybe I could show you the city?”

“You’re probably in shock. You should rest,” you said with a shake of your head. “But I’m pretty sure I saw Monaco on my mum’s itinerary for next week. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “Or maybe you could call me?”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc x reader

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theharddeck · 5 months

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start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!)

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep.

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport.

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed.

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts.

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun.

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on.

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died.

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least.

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again.

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations).

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower.

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped.

You waited.

He didn’t move.

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely.

“Are you cold?”

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake.

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered.

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault.

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something.

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life.

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched.

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt.

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you.

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same.

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends.

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction.

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly.

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer.

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them.

“Why?” you asked.

Again, that quiet chuckle.

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly.

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow.

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man.

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation.

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm.

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there.

In bed.

With you.

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces.

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said.

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again.

It distracted you for a moment.

Just a moment.

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering.

You tried to be still, you did.

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised.

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat.

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing.

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep.

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed.

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you.

“Can I…?” he trailed off.

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth.

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow.

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity.

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond.

Jake hummed.

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep.

You startled awake to the sound of guns.

Not guns, fireworks.

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten?

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly.

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking.

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any.

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said.

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid.

You took a long breath, starting to explain.

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination.

Just as quickly, he pulled back.

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was.

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that.

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again.

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly.

Of course he was a good kisser.

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you.

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline.

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed.

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you.

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting.

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck.

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced,

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face.

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger.

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin.

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted.

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing.

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs.

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him.

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg.

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that.

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again.

It shouldn’t be this hot.

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise.

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you.

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching.

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze.

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge.

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter.

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs.

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well.

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact.

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness.

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something.

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this.

“Right,” you said weakly.

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.

He kissed your thigh.

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught.

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming.

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch.

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different.

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless.

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you.

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned.

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice.

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion.

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set.

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair.

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again.

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you.

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more.

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers.

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded.

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow.

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening.

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words.

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body.

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again.

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter.

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming.

You weren’t cold anymore.

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter.

God damn, he was so hot.

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be.

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough.

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again.

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick.

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed.

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself.

He was so strong.

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you.

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct.

Fuck, he felt big.

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head.

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it.

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed.

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers.

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent.

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his.

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out.

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back.

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours.

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance.

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth.

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him.

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him.

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair.

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication.

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too.

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege.

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly.

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too.

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down.

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that.

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs.

You’d had two orgasms.

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him.

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it.

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward.

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do.

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you.

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed.

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe.

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit.

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you.

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you.

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound.

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal.

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it.

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it.

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding.

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting.

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come.

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you.

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go.

You were just as boneless.

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin smut #misskielwrites

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kaciidubs · 5 months

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24 to 25 [Merry Christmas] | 8 Days of SKZcember

Prompt: meeting each other's family for the first time over the holidays

❣ Summary: There was a first for everything, and Christmas in Australia was definitely one of them. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 2.07k ❣ Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Chris is a doting boyfriend, slight humor, the whole Bang family is here ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, and Baby, Reader is referred to as Baby, and Love, unedited, this was meant to be short, not over 2k words ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ SKZcember 2023

Having family living in a different part of the world often meant having to visit whenever time off would allow; however, having a boyfriend in the industry whose family also lived in a different part of the world apart from your family meant those visits were even rarer.

“...and once again, we would like to thank you for flying with us this Christmas eve.”

Toying with your fingers subconsciously, you glanced out of the window of the plane at the vast expanse of land thousands of meters below, your stomach doing flips in the meantime.

“Baby?”

A soft touch brought you out of your thoughts, turning your head to see Chris’s hand covering yours with a gentle squeeze added for good measure.

“If you’re nervous about the landing just close your eyes - you can even close the blind if you want?”

Your heart fluttered and you had to stop yourself from swooning at how cute he was, squeezing his hand back with a small smile, “It’s not the landing that I’m nervous about, Channie - well, not entirely nervous about.” Looking down at your entwined hands, you deflated slightly in your seat, “I’m just worried they won’t… like me, you know?”

You were both currently on your way to Australia to visit Chris’ family for the holiday; the decision being made after a long winded debate and heavy consideration over you not wanting to take the opportunity away from his visiting home, and him not wanting you to sacrifice seeing your family just for him - the resolution resulting in two plane tickets and the promise of the next vacation dedicated to your hometown.

Chris scoffed your name lovingly, “You’re worried over that? You know my mom adores you, and my dad asks about you whenever he calls - and you already know how Hannah is, you guys basically talk everyday! Hell, even Lucas brings your name up, you know how rare that is?”

“Hannah doesn’t count cause I’ve already met her - but your mom, dad, and Lucas? We’ve only ever talked over the phone, it’s different from meeting in person - what if I’m not what they expected?”

“Love, look at me.”

Looking at him with a soft pout, he gave you a comforting smile, eyes shining with a fondness you’d fallen for time and time again.

“My family is going to love you, because I love you, okay? They’ve heard me talk about you so much that my mom actually started threatening me to bring you to visit!” When you cracked a smile at his confession, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, “Everything’s going to be fine, yeah?”

Giving him a small nod, you watched as he pressed a small kiss to your knuckles just as the seatbelt light turned on and the plane prepared for its final descent.

It wasn’t long until the plane touched down and you were both following the line of passengers toward baggage claim and car rentals, Chris claiming that having more than one car would be best this time around.

“Alright,” he clapped his hands, seat belt buckled and car running, “Hannah knows we’re on our way - apparently Dad’s busy grilling and Mom’s running around trying to make sure the house is in order.”

“And your brother?”

“Waiting to catch Mom’s reaction when we walk through the door, I’m sure.”

The time between the car pulling out of the rental lot and rolling down the familiar streets of Chris’ childhood neighborhood seemed too short to be true, and you found yourself fidgeting with the strap of your seatbelt as you looked through the window.

“Baby, you’re doing it again.”

Huffing out a short laugh, you shook your head, “I’m just excited - nervous, but excited. Don’t act like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing if you were meeting my parents!”

He puffed out his cheeks, “I wouldn’t!”

“Chris, you practiced talking on the phone for ten minutes before we video called my family for the first time.”

His silence was enough for you to laugh harder, cooing at the blush tinting his ears as he pulled the car into the driveway.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to gather your bags - or, rather, for Chris to gather the suitcases like the gentleman he was while you handled closing the trunk after - and make your way up the short path to the front door.

He looked at you with a glittering smile, tilting his head toward the entrance, “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to quell the butterflies in your stomach and nodded, signaling him to ring the doorbell.

The sound of muffled barking soon followed suit, Berry readily alerting the home of their potential guests.

“Coming!”

No less than a second later, the door swung open to reveal a bright eyed Hannah, a wide smile stretching her lips as she practically flung herself into your arms with an excited squeal of your name.

“You made it! Oh my god, hi! Welcome to Australia!”

You hugged her back with a laugh, “Thank you! It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I’m here too, you know.” Chris muttered, though the smile on his face betrayed any attempts of annoyance he tried conveying. “Your older brother? The person you grew up with?”

“Exactly, I grew up with you which means I’ve seen enough.”

“Hey!”

Breaking from the hug, she led you both into the house as she went to find the rest of the family, leaving you and Chris in the foyer with a very excited, yet curious Berry.

Your boyfriend wasted no time in crouching down, baby voice in full effect, “Hi, Berry! Berry! Hi! I missed you! I missed you so much!”

The king charles spaniel jumped onto his arms, panting happily before falling back down with a series of excited barks and tail wags, then turning her attention to you with similar gusto.

Bending down, you offered your hand for her to sniff with a small smile, “Hi, Berry, it’s nice to meet you! Chris talked about you so much, part of me thought this trip was just to see you and no one else.” When her curious sniffing stopped, she ducked her head under your hand for you to pet her, which you graciously accepted, “Oh, aren’t you the cutest? You’re the best girl, aren’t you?”

The sound of footsteps broke you from your puppy praise break and you stood just in time to see his mom rushing around the corner with a bright smile on her face, “Oh my goodness!”

Taking the initiative, Chris stepped forward with an equally wide smile, an air of sheepishness surrounding him as if he were a teenager bringing home their first partner. “Hi, mom.”

She wasted no time in pulling him into a hug, holding him in her arms as much as she could despite how grown he had become - the epitome of a mother’s hug, always ready to cradle their child no matter how much they’ve changed.

Your heart swelled at the display, catching a few murmurs of how much she missed him and how big he’d gotten until she pulled away to look in your direction.

“I feel like I’ve heard so much about you already that I don’t even need an introduction,” she laughed, letting her son out of her arms to stand next to you, “but I’ll let him tell me anyways, I know he’s been practicing this moment.”

“Mom, really?”

“That’s hilarious,” Lucas snickered from the sidelines, which gave you the chance to notice him holding his phone, most likely recording for future memories.

Huffing lightly, Chris took your hand in his and you squeezed in earnest, watching him relax considerably. “Mom, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend,” he turned to you, a warm smile on his lips, “and this is my mom, the person responsible for giving me life.”

“And your good looks,” she teased, stepping forward to bring you into a hug similar to the one she gave him; welcoming, comforting, accepting. “It’s so nice to finally meet you - pictures do not do you justice!”

You could feel yourself melt in her embrace, your previous nervousness vanishing into thin air, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Bang.”

“Oh, please, it’s an honor finally meeting the person who’s responsible for my son being this happy,” holding you at arms length, she gazed at you with sparkling eyes, “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Just as you went to give another complement, the smell of grilled meat wafted through the air and Chris all but floated off of the ground; a weary sigh escaping him as he eagerly looked toward what you could only assume to be the kitchen.

“I missed dad’s grilling so much.”

“Good, cause he’s been at it all day,” Hannah shrugged, looking at you with a smirk, “He made one of everything - I’d like to think of it as pregaming Christmas dinner.”

Their mom let you go and headed through the hall, “I’ll go help with setting the table - Chris, your room is all set if you want to drop off your suitcases and give her a quick tour, other than that I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”

He gave her a short hum in response, sharing a quick hug with Lucas and a brief introduction between the two of you before guiding you to his old room - or, better known as the room you’ll be sharing for the next few days.

“If the bed’s too small, I can always camp out on the floor, you know.”

You scoffed out a laugh as you danced your fingers along the carefully laid out blanket, “You say that as if we don’t practically sleep under each other already - this is perfect, baby.”

You couldn’t help but take in the details of his old room, scanning over the posters and pictures that decorated the walls, and spotting the board of medals that laid propped against the floor - not that it was hard to miss considering the wide array it held. Before you could get entranced by any more trinkets and hidden gems, his hand gently grabbed yours and he pulled you into his space, trapping you in his arms with a careful gaze.

“How are you feeling so far? If you’re tired from the flight I can always ask my dad to save you a plate for later, he’ll understand and-”

“Baby, I’m okay!” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you smiled up at him, “I’m not tired, and I’m not worried anymore - meeting your mom made me realize I had nothing to be scared about, and just from smelling your dad’s food I know we’re going to get along just fine!” You narrowed your eyes slightly, tilting your head with a soft pout, “Are you okay? Not that I hate the sudden check in, but you seem stressed, Chris.”

Heaving a deep sigh, he ultimately relaxed in your arms, a tired smile falling on his lips, “I’m okay- more than okay, actually, I’m just…” He stared at you, brown eyes warm with love, “I guess I’m just excited over having you here with me, with my family - I want to make sure everything’s perfect and I’m not pushing you into things too soon.”

Cooing at his sentiment, you laid your head on his chest, surrounding yourself in his scent and warmth. “Channie, you’re not pushing me into anything, you hear me? I’m happy we decided to come here, and even if we haven't been here long, I already feel more than welcome.”

His hold on you tightened a bit more as he rested his cheek on the top of your head, grounding himself in the moment until his mother’s voice floated through the hall.

“Chris! Food’s ready!”

“Well,” pulling away from him, you shot him a teasing smile, “ready for your first family dinner featuring your extremely brave girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your antics, “My brave girl, for sure - I was born ready for this.”

As you led the way out of his room, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he snuck a glance at the screen to see a text from your mom; your family’s flight still on schedule to land tomorrow morning.

Biting back his grin, he sent a quick text in return before grabbing your hand and guiding you toward the dining room.

“Dad, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader

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roostersgirlfriendlovesf1 · 2 months

Text

new light | charles leclerc

charles leclerc x reader

prompt: y/n wolff is new to the f1 world, being mclarens first female f1 driver. her teammate is lando norris, her father is toto wolff, and her mentor is daniel riccardo. she could not be more immersed in the motorsport. the person most helping ease her into the world is none other than charles leclerc. his interest in her seems to be deeper than just the sport; so y/n invites charles on a trip back home over the summer break to get a feel for how a life with him could be without f1.

y/n shuffled in the plane seat, nervously awaiting takeoff. Charles hummed next to her. She did not like the takeoff aspect of a flight. She was also nervous about them being seen together.

“How long have you two been together?” An older lady asked, sitting in the row next to them.

“Oh, we are n-”

Charles interrupted y/n. “Two years.” He smiled. “We met through work.”

The older lady smiled before giving them a nod and turning her in-flight tv on. y/n shuffled as she felt the plane begin to move. “I’ve never been to Oxford, I’m excited.” Charles smiled. y/n kept her eyes shut, holding her breath. “y/n?” He looked at her. Her hand shook as she moved it closer to his. He realized why she was nervous and quickly grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. The plane reached its height and the seatbelt sign turned off. y/n opened her eyes, looking down at their hands. Her face flushed as she looked up and realized Charles had dozed off. His face was slightly red as he nuzzled deeper into his sweatshirt. She leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Y/n felt a hand rubbing her shoulder as she slowly lifted her head. “We’re landing.” Charles whispered. She nodded as she came to consciousness. “I just didn’t want the plane touching the ground to frighten you.”

“Thank you.” She sat up, fiddling with the bracelets on his wrist.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Are we staying with your parents?”

“We’re staying at their house, but they won’t be there.”

“Alright.” He zipped up his bag as the plane hit the ground.

Y/n turned their rental car into her family’s drive. “Horses?” Charles exclaimed looking out the window.

“Yes, horses.” She smiled. “That’s Shumi and the other one is Niki.”

“Those are very special names.” He laughed, “Ever tried racing them?”

“No, never. They’re retired race horses. We take them here to live out their last years in peace.”

Charles glanced over to her in the driver's seat. His head was full of new possibilities and the excitement of learning who she was. He looked forward and saw a beautiful old-stone house. “And this is home.” y/n parked the car. “There’s a creek out back, a nice porch, and privacy.” She climbed out of the car and Charles grabbed their bags. She slowly closed the trunk, watching him walk up the steps to her home. She hopped up the steps, unlocking the door with giddiness. Charles dropped the bags off in the entry room.

“It’s beautiful.” He scanned the interior of the house.

“Thank you.” She blushed. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He paused before nodding, not knowing what to expect for sleeping arrangements.

“I mean I just didn’t know where you would want to sleep so I figured I’d give you the garden-view room” He carried his bag, following her down a hallway. She opened the door and he gazed at the garden outside his window.

“This is amazing.” He glanced around with stars in his eyes. He’d been everywhere and stayed everywhere, but nothing compared to this.

“And I’ll be across the hall if you have a nightmare.” She joked.

“What are we doing today? Do I need to change?” Charles asked.

“I was thinking of feeding the horses, checking on the bunnies, and then watching a movie. I think it is going to rain around 3. Is that good with you?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Do you think I should change?”

“Just put a hoodie on, it’s chilly.”

Charles opened the door, allowing y/n to guide him towards the horses. “I bet Christmas is beautiful here.”

“It is.” She nodded. “Freezing, though.” Charles glanced at her. He noticed her nose turning slightly pink, and the way she watched her feet as she walked. She had a navy sweatshirt on with a pair of white pants. “Care to help me bring them to the stable?” She pointed to a wooden building, vines embellished the outside of it as the light inside of it contrasted to the gloomy UK weather.

“What do I do?”

“Grab the lead and guide her to the stable.”

“I-”

“Just follow me.” She grabbed the lead of Niki and placed the one of Shumi into Charles’ hand. His warm hands brushed her cold ones, contrastingly making him shiver. They led the horses into their stalls and y/n began to carry a bale of hay into each stall.

“Do you need some help?” Charles peaked into the stall.

“I’m good,” y/n said in a distressed voice before tripping over the bale, landing on her back. Her eyes turned wide before she started cackling. Charles rushed over to the girl, offering her a hand up with a worried face. She took his hand, yanking him into the hay with her. He laughed, trying to climb off of her while she was wheezing. His hands were placed over her shoulders as she went silent. He rolled next to her.

“Who’s your best friend, y/n?”

She smiled, “Why do you ask?”

“Just getting to know you.”

“I’d say Lando Norris.” She positioned herself on her side, facing Charles. Did she not have others? Maybe some before her F1 career.

“No childhood friends?” He questioned.

“Nope.”

“That sounds lonely.” His watercolor eyes glanced over her face.

She sat up. “What makes you think that?”

“D’know, just does.”

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

y/n sat on the couch, flipping through different streaming apps. “Anything specific you want to watch?” She yelled, hoping her voice echoed into the bathroom Charles was showering in. She heard the creak of a door and looked up. He was topless in loose, blue pajama pants.

“Do you happen to have an old sweatshirt lying around? The one I packed has hay all over.”

“Yes…It might be big on you.” She stood up, digging through a coat closet. She pulled out a Mercedes sweatshirt. Charles laughed, shaking his head.

“No way. I can’t.”

“Come on, big guy.” She taunted him with it. “No one will see you in it.”

“There has to be another one.” He reasoned.

“Nope.” She shook her head. Charles begrudgingly took it and pulled it over his head. “So handsome.” She placed a hand on his chest, where a Mercedes emblem showed.

“y/n.”

“Yeah?” She smiled.

“Please don’t let your career change you as a person.”

“Huh?”

“Formula One has a way of dulling some people’s light. I’m sure Danny has told you. Please don’t let everything get the best of you.” Something caught his eye behind her. A line of rainbow marks. “What’s this?” He changed the subject.

She was still flustered by his first words. “It’s the chart of my height since I was two.”

“It needs to be updated.” He smiled. She handed him a marker and lined herself up with the doorframe. She looked up at him while he stood over her, carefully drawing a line above her head. Her mouth slightly opened as she held her breath. “Perfect.” He looked down at her. His eyes staring directly at her lips. Their noses were touching, a slight movement and their lips would be touching. “I wish I could have you.” He whispered.

“You do.” She nodded. She smelled his freshly washed hair and felt the heat of his body from underneath his sweatshirt. “Do you believe this is worth it?”

“I believe this could be my everything.” He spoke. She stood, frozen. He kissed her, hands embracing her waist. She kissed him back, hands tangled in his hair. His hands cupped her face as he pulled away. She heard her phone buzz on the counter.

“You should probably get that.”

“It can wait.” She kissed him again.

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

y/n’s eyes opened slightly, light from the window welcoming her. She smiled, memories of the night before making her giddy. She had been drunk on kisses, giggling softly as Charles kissed her goodnight, retiring to his room across the hall. She opened her phone groggily, turning the brightness up. She read texts from the night before, catching up on real life. After responding to a few emails, she then turned her phone off, climbing out of bed. She pulled on a sweatshirt as she creaked open her door. The stone house had a chilly draft in the mornings. She was faced with the sight of Charles sleeping peacefully in the room across from her. The sun highlighted the freckles and moles on his face and the perfectness of his complexion. He didn’t look real. It was so tempting for her to want to climb into the bed next to him. Instead, she put her slippers on and started to brew some tea. She opened the door to the porch, the sound of the babbling creek creating a calming atmosphere. She brought her mug of tea outside and cracked open a book.

“Well this is a beautiful view.” Charles stretched, stepping outside. He glanced at her long hair, cascading past her chest. He placed a kiss on top of y/n's head. “Call me by your name and I’ll call you by mine.” He quoted her book. “Quite the story.” He yawned.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked.

“I’m not a huge fan.”

“Would you fancy orange juice or milk?”

“Orange juice sounds nice.”

“Okay-” She went to stand.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll get it. You stay here.” He poured himself a glass and peered outside again. He reached into his pocket and took a photo of y/n before sitting down at the table. “I hate to ruin this moment, but how is this going to work?” He twisted a lock of her red hair with his finger.

“I mean the media already hates me so what if we just came right out and said we were thinking about dating.”

“How do you think it would affect those close to us, though? I mean your dad-”

“My dad isn’t like that, Char.”

“I’m just worried. Should we wait?” He sighed.

“It’s ok if we keep it private…” She whispered. “It's not like we can do a soft launch or anything…not too many people have red hair. Everyone would know it was me.”

“Thank you.” He used a hand to massage the back of her head. She stared at him for a moment, their chairs facing each other. “Actually…screw it.” He smiled. “I’m going to take you out to dinner tonight.”

She smiled before pecking him on the lips as he pulled her into his lap. “I know somewhere.” She nuzzled her face into his neck. He grabbed her book and began to read it to her.

#charles leclerc #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 fic #lando norris #toto wolff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine

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dudeitiskarev · 9 months

Text

Accidentally In Love | Part One

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x florist female reader

Summary: Penelope has a plan: throw an arrow full of love dust and make you and Hotch fall in love with each other. A series of small…inconveniences keep happening whenever you two end up in the same room, so it takes her more than one try to work her magic on you. Each incident serves its purpose, though, meaning Garcia’s work is only the last push you two need to get a happily ever after—a Penelope centered fun ride with lots of fluff and all the cheesy stuff.

Word count: 2.6k

Content/warnings: nothing really. Just fluff.

Long author’s note: I can’t remember where this idea came from but oh boy, I love it so much. This little story might be my last Hotch x reader piece ever and it feels like an appropriate story to wrap up the end of an era for me. I will always love Aaron Hotchner and I’m so grateful to have found this fandom. It’s not a long fic but I’ll still split it into a few parts because I think it reads best.

To my very loyal readers, I see you always and I love you forever and thank you for everything. I hope everyone who reads it love this story as much as I do and as always, I’d love to know what you think. Enjoy! Mwaaaah <33

Penelope was born with a gift. She could see people’s hearts—like actually; bright red beating flesh inside people’s chest cavities.

Most had a glow of their own that came with a special colored aura. She often felt them as her own, too, and though that might just be the deep empathy her dad also had, she embraced others’ heartbreaks like a treasure from day one.

Her gift came with what could be considered a lethal weapon: an arc and endless arrows. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous since she was the only one who could manipulate it and see it overall—and because the arrows were made out of clouds—but she’d never been very skilled at using it, so accidental love matches happened often. Most happened when she was a kid—when she’d just discovered her gift and would use it at the supermarket or the movie rental with two random people. It was like introducing a Ken doll to a Barbie for the first time ever so it really was just a game.

It became serious business when one of her closest friends in high school got her heart broken by some guy named Trent. It physically hurt Penelope to see her friend’s heart break and do nothing about it, so she went out of her way to find a guy with a pure heart for her dearest friend; they’ve been together ever since.

That love match was the one that made her polish her gift. She’d keep a love-matches tracker journal where she’d write down everything—from potential couples to different scenarios where she could make the magic happen. Her aim was the one thing she hadn’t been able to refine that much just yet. It has improved, but accidental matches kept happening, just not as often. Which was part of the fun, anyway.

The fun turned into dust the moment she got the call about her parents getting in a car accident. Her gift froze along with her heart that night. It took her a while to let it warm up again, even when it was all she wanted; the only thing that’d truly make her feel something other than grief.

It was hard, though. She’d witnessed love slipping away from people every day and every time she knew she could’ve done something about it. She didn’t want to push herself that much—it drained her, so she started again slow, remotely, with online love matches since she spent most of her time behind a screen and under a fake name. That worked, surprisingly— Bitter_Fruit_Punch and Dark.Knight announced their relationship through the chat 3 months after Penelope worked her magic on them.

Matchmaking has been part of her daily life ever since. It brightened up her own heart to see others fall in love so why not make it a full-time job? She was getting paid with smiles and love all around which was a much better reward than money but she couldn’t actually live out of it.

Her actual job wasn’t so bad—being recruited to work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit was one of the best things that have happened to her—it paid her rent, and she could afford colorful outfits and even more colorful glasses that matched every single piece of clothing she owned.

At the beginning of her career, she was hesitant to use her gift on the people she worked with. It was a serious and professional environment, but being surrounded by blood, murders and real-life monsters pushed her to subtly pull some strings the more she got to know her team.

She wanted each one of them to have a significant other, but not everyone’s hearts were easy to work with. Some hearts were too fragile or too stone cold. Some of them loved too much and others simply didn’t know how to show love, even when they experienced it immensely.

Emily had one of those hearts that unexpectedly loved too much once and simply would not let anyone in anymore because the one time she did, she had to die to keep herself safe.

Spencer’s heart was… something else. Which made it hard to find him the one since not many understood how it worked. He had it once, and it slipped away right in front of him.

JJ’s heart was as stunning as her eyes. Friendly despite having some scars from her past—as most hearts did. Her heart craved love and to be held tenderly, so as soon as Penelope felt how JJ’s heart would glow around a cute guy with a Louisiana accent, she threw an arrow at them.

Then there was her boss’ heart. One of the hardest hearts she’s ever come across. One of the biggest ones, too. Aaron Hotchner had a good heart, and when his ex-wife passed away, his heart only had room for his son.

Hotch was one of those cases that needed its own section in Penelope’s journal. She often thought, what if Haley was his one true love? Did it mean he couldn’t have another one? She wanted her boss to be happy, so she gave his heart all the time it needed to heal.

The right time came but she needed to test the waters first, so she put a pretty woman in Hotch’s life. Her name was Beth, but she wasn’t the one—García knew it from the beginning since their hearts weren’t on the same page. It was a good exercise that showed her that Aaron was ready to love again, though.

That’s when the real challenge began.

There was only one person perfect for Aaron Hotchner: you.

Penelope met you thanks to one of her many hobbies—theater. She needed a bunch of floral arrangements for her upcoming play, and your flower shop was a very well-known shop in the city. She walked through the door and the floral scent bathed her along with your welcoming heart.

It was like finding gold. One of the prettiest hearts she had ever seen. Glowy and generous like your smile, and so warm a ray of morning sunshine couldn’t compare. It resembled a mosaic and all she could think about while you showed her around all kinds of flowers was Hotch and how those broken pieces perfectly fitted together.

What Penelope didn’t know at that moment was that you two had met each other before. Or rather, shared a single glance.

You had the same favorite coffee shop—the one close to your flower shop that also happened to be on the way to the BAU. He’d thought you were beautiful; you’d felt the same. But that’s about it. Neither of you dared to make the first move if possible.

Until it had to happen again.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the barista while receiving your latte and turned around, bumping into a broad and very good-smelling silhouette.

You didn’t get the chance to give him a smile since your coffee spilled all over your hand.

It burnt like hell, but you didn’t even make a sound.

“Are you alright?” he was quick to assist you, taking your almost empty cup from your hand at the same time a bunch of hands around you offered you napkins.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You looked up and finally smiled at him. That wasn’t a common face so you remembered him perfectly—made your heart thunder senseless like the very first time you laid eyes on him. “You have no idea how often this happens to me,” You tried to play it cool.

Your cheeks started to grow hot from the inside out. Painfully slow. It completely erased the burning sensation on your hand. You looked down to dry the sleeve of your blouse hoping the heat of your face would disappear.

It didn’t.

“Let me buy you another one.” He moved you out of the way by your arm and guided you to an empty corner. His touch was as gentle as a petal.

“Oh, there’s no need, I promise. I’m okay. There’s still some left.” You peeked at the cup he was still holding. There was barely a sip. “I— I should go.”

“Please, I insist.”

The look of concern made him even more attractive. You couldn’t reject him with words so you simply gave him one last look and walked away in a hurry, leaving Aaron with his mouth half open before he could insist even more.

The barista called his name right after and the guilt while he received his perfect order wouldn’t let him enjoy it. He walked to his car with his coffee in one hand and your empty cup in the other. The least he could do was get you another latte, somehow. Thankfully your name and order were on the cup, and there was only one person who could make that happen with that little information.

“I need your help and I need you not to ask any questions.” He stormed into Garcia’s office and stood next to her, dramatically placing your empty cup on her desk.

She jumped at his sudden presence. “Y-yes sir. What can I do?”

Hotch gave her some more details he picked up from you from the brief interaction that could be useful. The more she typed each one on her computer, the more information about you showed up on the screen. Her naive self thought it all was just a coincidence, but then a news page popped on the screen from a couple of years ago. There was a tiny picture of your pretty face in the bottom right corner that announced the opening of your shop.

“That’s her,” Hotch confirmed.

Penelope looked up at him and caught the glimpse of a smile taking over his lips and a tiny spark inside his chest. She held the urge to squeal right then and there.

Hotch didn’t tell her much detail about how he ended up having your cup, but his heart already lit up at the thought of you. Meaning, it shouldn’t be so hard to make you two fall in love, right?

All she had to do was make something like that happen again and be there to throw that arrow.

The coffee stain on your sleeve looked like a jasmine blossom—if you really stared at it.

There was no point in washing it off since the coffee was almost dry. Plus, wet sleeves around your wrists would only worsen your day. You should’ve known it was going to be like this from the moment the hot water ran out while in the middle of your shower this morning.

But you were at your shop now. Your happy place. A dream come true. Nothing could bother you as long as you were there, so you decided to leave the embarrassed thoughts behind and went to check on the flowers and plants you had outside on display, making sure they were healthy and ready to be chosen.

They’d been sorted by size since the very first day. Tallest at the very back and smallest in front, that way none would be unnoticed.

The voice of a stranger calling your name made you turn away from the ficus trees. You didn’t know the kid or why he was handing you a cup of coffee that had your name written on it.

“I think you got the wrong person.” You hesitated whether to receive it or not. “I didn’t order anything.”

“Well, someone did. This is Silver Spring 2089, right?” He looked at the numeration behind you.

“Yeah?” You took the cup just so you wouldn’t leave him hanging.

“Then it’s for you.” He nodded with an annoyed customer-service smile. “Have a great day!” He hopped back on his bike and added, “I think there’s a note for you,” gesturing at the cup with his brows.

“Oh, okay? Thanks”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, pedaling away.

You stood there for a moment, frozen by confusion. You had no idea what that was about but it was better figuring it out inside rather than out in the sun. You made your way back inside your store and once you were behind the counter, you examined the cup, twirling it in 360 degrees. It only had your name on the outside.

“Hmm.” You bit your lip.

Maybe the note was on the inside? You slid down the cup holder, revealing a note written in all caps across the cup.

HOPE YOU CAN STILL ENJOY A LATTE AT NOON.

Your lips twitched into a smile and the good kind of butterflies spiraled in your stomach.

The kind that you haven’t felt in so long.

García knew her boss too well. He may have sent you the coffee but he was going to need a little push to get him to do more than that.

“So?” García walked into Hotch’s office. “How did it go?”

He lifted his eyes from the paper. He had no idea what she was talking about.

“Flower girl?” She continued. “Her coffee?”

His eyes rushed back to the document. “She received it, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” She took a few steps closer, the click-clack of her heels loud under her. “She didn’t text you a thank you, you’re so incredibly nice?”

It was very unlike you if you didn’t.

“She doesn’t have my number.” He looked at Garcia again. “So I don’t see why she would.”

“You didn’t write it somewhere in her order?”

“No?” He frowned softly, waiting to be reprimanded.

“Sir,” she huffed out a breath, sitting across from him and placing her thick sparkly journal over her lap. “That was your chance.”

“Of what?”

“Of… love.”

He paused for a moment and sighed, raising his brows while saying, “There’s no time.” As if he was trying to convince himself.

“There’s always time for love,” she quickly added.

The truth was that he didn’t want to let someone in yet after Beth. It had already been scary back then to let Beth in after Haley. There was a big difference, though. He let Beth go by choice—which was the right thing to do—and Haley was ripped away from him.

Both things have hurt his son, meaning it wasn’t just his heart that could get exposed to love or abandonment by letting someone new in.

Jack’s heart lived right behind Aaron’s, so he had to be careful.

“Is there anything else you need?” He changed the subject.

Penelope’s face dropped in defeat as she said a quiet no, though it slowly turned into a smile as she added, “I mean yes. Yes, actually, I’m here also to give you—” she riffled through her documents and took out a flyer, handing it to him “—this.”

The flyer promoted her new play, and as always, had her face on it.

“This Friday?” He took a closer look at it.

“Everyone’s invited, per usual,” she said proudly.

Whenever he got the official invitation, he looked forward to it. It reminded him of his high school years and often made him want to give it a try again now that he was older to do something out of the ordinary. But in this case, there really was no time.

“I’ll be there.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“You are very welcome.” She stood up and walked to the door.

“Hey, Garcia?” Hotch got her attention, making her turn around. He remembered when she was embarrassed about the team finding out, and now they were a permanent crowd in each of her plays. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir.” She smiled big big. “Goodbye, sir.”

She left his office with a bright grin and an even brighter plan.

If he didn’t dare to give you his number or any other hint about his persona, she was going to make sure he did.

That very same day she sent you an invitation to her play.

Her plan? Forced proximity.

Classic me, I’m not sure when I’ll post next part but I hope you enjoyed this ♥️

PART TWO

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fluff

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