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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

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Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara.

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

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

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things.

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax.

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration.

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers.

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler.

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words.

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers! How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?"

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!"

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling.

"I could do this all day, princesa. "

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure.

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit.

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive.

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time.

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far.

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him.

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar.

"You okay?"

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you. "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all."

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two.

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand.

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over.

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you.

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass.

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder.

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?"

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink.

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar.

He stretches out his hand, and you take it.

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words.

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck.

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do.

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him.

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you.

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer.

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in.

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness.

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him.

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension.

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip.

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck.

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders.

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out.

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper.

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile.

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face.

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more.

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words.

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is.

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate all your needs.

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order.

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk.

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -"

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains.

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary.

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-"

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious .

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body.

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something.

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up.

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?"

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression is steady, just as unreadable.

"Do you want to?"

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over.

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me."

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust.

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod.

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man.

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper.

"Fuck, Miguel."

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot.

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares.

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans.

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters.

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm.

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?"

You nod frantically with a stifled sob.

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please."

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?"

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks.

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers.

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath.

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought.

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy.

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum.

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago.

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process.

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?"

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles.

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa."

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #light angst #kat_writes😼#miguel o hara x reader #headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #jealousy

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luveline · 5 months

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jade i am begging on my knees ….. any time you are up for it …… it would make me very greatly happy to see something with a bombshell!reader x hotch <33333

The office is hot today in the midst of a ninety degree summer, and your coworkers have been forced to strip down to their lightest layers, the women in linen blouses, men with their shirt sleeves rolled up high. Spencer has ditched his sweater vest reluctantly, cooling himself with a makeshift fan fashioned from printer paper, and Emily huffs next to you at her desk, overwhelmed.

“How aren't you hot?” she demands to know.

You lean back in your chair with a demure smile. “Mind over matter.”

She rolls her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked.”

Hotch's office door opens. You turn in your chair to watch him appear —even Unit Chief's get hot, apparently. He looks flustered in the heat, pink-cheeked and hair skewed ever so slightly, the most unmade you've ever seen him at work.

You could get used to it.

He feels you looking, narrowing his eyes. You'd like to think it was playful. For Hotch, it is.

“Hot, handsome,” you say.

“I'm fine.”

“I wasn't asking.” You beam at him.

“Enough. You know the rules.”

He doesn't seem too mad, but he's right; you know the office rules. Don't flirt, don't start, and don't text him inside of work hours unless that text pertains to work itself. You'd started calling him instead —what are you wearing right now?— and he'd decided that text now meant any communication lest you find another loophole. You're pushing it.

“Ah, the rules,” you say, throwing your arm across your eyes in mock distress, before peeking under it to see if he's watching. He always is. “You know rules aren't made for people like me, handsome.”

“Stop it, final warning. Or I'll have you moved.”

He makes being his girlfriend very difficult. You roll your shoulders and drop the act. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Afterwards.”

“No, right now. Please? It's important, I swear.”

He gestures for you to come up. You take the stairs and cross the landing to his office, where he's already stepped back inside to open the window even further on its hinge. There isn't much wind to breeze, but there is a palpable difference between his office and the bullpen. You join him at the window and let the barely cooler air fan your face.

“What's wrong?” he asks.

“Can you give me a quick kiss? It would really lift my spirits.”

He laughs somewhere deep in his chest. “No, honey. Now tell me what you wanted to tell me.”

“I have a doctor's appointment next week, on the 13th. It's a Wednesday. I was hoping for PTO, but I can take a sick day if that's not agreeable.”

Hotch gives you the side eye, brows gently furrowed. “Everything okay?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.”

“I would, actually.”

“Yeah, well, you'll have to beg for it. Not everything in life is free, Hotchner–” You break into laughter as he grabs your waist, not expecting it, your hips tender as he squeezes. “Ouch, you're kinda handsy, you know that?”

You sound beautiful like this, laughing as you talk, so happy it lines every word. Hotch pulls your front to his, arms crossing casually behind your back, his eyes expectant. “Tell me,” he commands smoothly.

“Because you asked so nicely, I'm just fine, but I've been feeling a little under the weather. I think I'm anaemic.”

“And this is the first time I'm hearing about this because…”

“Because I'm not allowed to talk to you at work!”

He rolls his eyes as you drop a considerable amount of your weight against his arms. Usually, Hotch would meet your eyes and say, You're punishing me for a rule created out of necessity, or something to that effect, but, despite everything that might say otherwise, he really likes you. Loves you.

“I know, honey, I'm sorry. Maybe we can… allot you a few texts a day.” He analyses your expression. “One a day.”

You squeeze his naked forearm and lift up to kiss his cheek. He stays completely still while you do it, beside the small stroke of his thumb where it rests on your back. “Thank you. I'll leave you alone now, or we might get caught fraternising with one another and lose our jobs. Oh, wait, that's not actually going to happen–”

You burst out laughing as Hotch once again squeezes your waist in warning, the hint of a smile on his lips.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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myfictionaldreams · 9 months

Text

Winter Soup // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

Requested by: @senjoritanana thank you so much, I hope you enjoy all the angst!

A/N: PSA I don't know the specifics of how poisons work and didn't want to risk it on my google history lmao so please ignore any inaccuracies. Please read the tags if you're affected by near death experiences, please proceed with caution and if I've missed any tags/warnings, please let me know!

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, hints of smut, angst (LOTS BUCKLE UP), fluff, polyamory relationship, poisoning, blood and injury, anxiety, crying, begging, near death expierences, reader is injured, pain, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitalization, protective Steve Bucky and Sam, everyone needs a hug tbh

Words: 7.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The warmer months were slowly starting to shift into winter and for some reason this year, the weather change was beginning to affect your health. You’d heard of the phrase ‘seasonal depression’ but you were convinced that it was due to the cooler weather that was making you feel this rubbish.

It had been happening for a week now, and some days you’d feel fine, normal in fact but then others your chest felt so tight as if an elephant was sitting on top of you, nausea, vertigo and heart palpations that would have you clutching your chest with fear you might explode. With each passing day, you would be praying for the summer months to return, especially as the snow and ice increased with intensity outside of your home.

You were fine for the most part, good days and bad; yes you might be getting worse with each passing day but you were adamant that the seasonal illness would pass. However, the frosty weather was also a minor blessing because it was your excuse to stay home and be a pretty housewife for Steve and Bucky. Being able to stay home made it easier to keep the illness to yourself as well, it was a busy time within the Rogers mafia and you didn’t need them wasting their time fretting over your wellness when they had a lot of other things to do. They had many international deals that were so close to being signed for and contracted that every waking hour was spent at the office, on phone calls, and emails, trying to talk to locals across the world to attend meetings on their behalf so the boys were thoroughly busy.

There were a few occasions you’d attended with them to the office if you were feeling particularly needy or lonely but it unnerved you to drive on the snow and ice so when you suggested that you might stay at home, Steve and Bucky offered no complaints.

At home at least you were able to mop about, trying to perk yourself up with movies, pyjamas and your favourite bowl of warm soup. Over the last few months, you’d been trying to improve your cooking skills, especially to impress Steve who usually cooked for three of you. This became more interesting as the colder months drew in over Brooklyn as this meant you could cook more homely, hearty foods such as soups and stews, especially as you had recipe suggestions from the newly hired grounds guard Rafael.

He’d been recommended by a friend of a friend for Steve to hire which was perfect timing because the last grounds guard had retired. There were a few occasions when he was the guard to bring the post to the front door from the front gate and you soon found he was enthusiastic and easy to talk to, even though he was a little bit older, which was how you found out he had previously been a chef and offered to give you recipe ideas. As winter drew in, Rafael began turning up when he knew you were by yourself to deliver some of his momma’s family recipe soups, hoping that the meal would perk you up which it did, they tasted so delicious that you were secretly hoping he would keep bringing them to you, especially as you continued to feel unwell.

“What is it today?”, you asked voice full of hope and trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Even though you were desperately holding onto the door handle as your head was spinning and scared you’d fall over.

“Potato and leek soup and they’re all grown in my back yard so hopefully you’ll love it even more than usual”, Rafael smiled as he handed over the container, his smile broad and causing the aged creases at the corner of his eyes to deepen.

Gleefully you accepted the soup, opening the lid slightly to smell the delicious meal, your stomach grumbling with hunger. Your appetite had reduced significantly over the last few days due to always feeling nauseous however it seemed the only thing that you could stomach was his delicious meals and therefore his arrival was always welcomed.

“Thank you so much! Please will you let me pay you this time? You’re being way too kind to me, always giving me free meals, you’re going above and beyond a usual guard”, you pleaded whilst also having to return holding onto the door handle as it felt like the ground was moving with your dizziness.

Rafael held up his hands and shook his head, taking a step back, “Absolutely not! Just wanted to give you something to make you feel better and make the fairies go away”.

The guard halted, a look of embarrassment passing out his features as he realised what he just said, especially as you asked, “Fairies?”

He awkwardly looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to explain, “Yeah it’s just something my momma use to say. If we were feeling unwell, it’s because the fairies had crept into our stomachs and were being naughty and making us ill and now I’ve said it out loud to another person I’ve realised how insane that sounds so I’m going to stop talking”.

You squeezed your lips together to try and contain your laughter but that lasted a moment before you were both laughing which only turned into you losing your balance against the door and swaying to keep yourself upright. The laughter died in Rafael’s eyes as he reached out to you, “Woah, you ok, Ma’am?”

Quickly brushing him off, you took a step back into your home, trying to ask nonchalantly about the situation, “Yeah sorry, probably just the fairies pushing me over”. Your joke didn’t seem to comfort him in any way as he continued to look uneased by your appearance.

Thankfully Rafael didn’t push the situation any further, seeing that you wanted to escape back into the comfort of your home, he took his step back with a simple smile. “Get back inside before you catch another cold from this snow. Eat the soup whilst it’s still warm and I’ll be back tomorrow to hear the verdict on the taste.”

“Thank you Rafael! Enjoy the rest of your day!”. You waved him off and rushed to slam the door, sliding down to the floor against the wood, losing all energy that you’d built that morning just for that one conversation. Ok yes, you were feeling sorry for yourself as you tried to catch your breath, heart pounding violently in your chest that it also echoed in your ears and your vision was still seeing double of everything.

However your stomach continued to gurgle with hunger so without wasting any more energy, you opened the lid and ate the entire contents then and there. Releasing a satisfied sigh at the delicious meal, you took another couple of minutes to gather your senses before dragging yourself over to the living room, collapsing onto your back on the couch and letting sleep take you into a dreamless realm.

A violent shake of your shoulders by a hard grip on your shoulder was what startled you awake as Sam’s voice then surrounded you as he shouted, “Hey! Wake up!”.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been close to hating you Sam Wilson”, you croaked before coughs shattered your chest, rocking your body as you tried to sit up and suck in any air between the painful coughs. Finally, you calmed down enough to collapse back against the decorative cushions of the couch and open your eyes to look at the three Sam’s that hovered over you. After a couple more blinks, they merged into one, very distressed-looking bodyguard, eyebrows knitted together and jaw muscle clenched harshly.

Sam reached towards your face, pressing against your cheek in concern, “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

“What? I’m not ill, I’m just tired, can’t a girl nap around here?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

The man didn’t look convinced as he sat on the edge of the couch next to you. Releasing a heavy sigh which only twinged something in your chest that made you want to cough but you refrained from doing so as you emphasised, “Sam seriously, I’m fine”.

Sam gave you another serious glance, eyes hardening as he explained, “You didn’t sound fine, you were wheezing so hard in your sleep I thought you were going to stop breathing”.

There was no denying the panic that filled your heart and would explain the tightened feeling in your chest but you tried to not let the fear show on your face as you rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I feel ok, I’m just tired, I was probably just sleeping in a weird position and look, no wheeze now!” Taking a deep breath to show there was no more noise coming from your chest, however, it didn’t seem to comfort him in any way.

“Yeah well you’re still looking peaky and why are you so tired all the time recently, you’re never usually like this”.

“It’s probably just the cold weather or something. If I start to feel unwell, you know I’d tell you. I’m a big baby when I’m ill, you’ll be the first to know”. Sam looked to be contemplating believing you and all you were silently begging for was that he didn’t call Steve and Bucky, they just didn’t need this stress right now. Even though it was in his contract to call them at any sign of injury or illness but as Sam looked at you, other than looking tired, you seemed to be fine and still joking with him. Finally, he gave you a simple nod and you couldn't hold back the thankful sigh. “Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a little while longer or do you need me for anything?”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot recently”, he stated his earlier point again.

“What, so I’m not allowed to nap now?” you teased him with a subtle smile, hoping to crack his worried exterior. It only half worked as he shook his head to himself, standing up and pulling the fluffy blanket that had been left behind you on the couch and throwing it over your body. Before you could even thank him though, sleep had stolen you back into its resting state.

Sleeping for a few more hours, Sam was nowhere to be seen but he usually liked to check the perimeter ever so often and speak to the other guards so you weren’t worried about his whereabouts. As you shuffled to the kitchen, you couldn’t tell if you felt any worse or better after all the sleeping, haven’t wasted another day feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to snap out of it by glancing through the refrigerator and cupboards and deciding to ssurpriseSteve and Bucky with a romantic meal.

The house was soon filled with delicious scents of sweet and savoury as you’d baked and were in the process of cooking their dinner. You were in your own little world and had only stumbled a handful of times with dizziness and the headache that was building was currently mild in comparison to others you had, it was fine you determined to yourself

Still lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even heard the front door open as you were suddenly enveloped by a muscular chest and arms, a smile aching your cheeks as you nuzzled back into Steve’s body. His lips danced over your cheek and down your neck as he held you close, the roughness of his beard comforting. “I didn’t hear you come in”, you commented, turning your head slightly to chase after his lips, sighing deeply in your chest as he held you tighter for a second, hands dipping beneath your shirt at your waist so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

“I did shout”, he revealed whilst moving back to neck, not to kiss but just to smell you in, his body almost melting into the floor as he felt at home with the familiar scents. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered against your skin.

Goosebumps instantly flooded over your body as you shivered, turning in his arms to hug him properly, your fingers scratching through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends where he’d allowed it to grow out over the winter months. “I’ve missed you too”, you whispered against his lips, lazily kissing and breathing each other in.

“Come with us tomorrow, I want you to be near me”, he admits with words that were making you cling to him harder.

You wanted to say yes and the word was on the tip of your tongue but then your thoughts drifted to the soup coming. “I’ve got a delivery coming that I can’t miss, I’m sorry”.

“The guards can get the delivery”, he counters.

“It’s fresh soup I want it whilst it’s hot”, an embarrassed smile finds its way to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the moment of the two of you being together.

“Soup? But we could order that to the office if you wanted it, you know that’s no issue”.

You pout dramatically, hanging off his neck as you whisper with a childish tone, “But it won’t be the soup that I’ve ordered and want”.

Steve rolls his eyes but you know he's being playful, he could never find a reason to be upset with you. Rolling back his shoulders, he stands back to his full height, opening his eyes to cup your cheek with his massive hand but this was when he took you in and a frown dawned on his face just like it had on Sam’s. “Are you feeling ok?” The hand on your cheek moved towards your forehead, expecting to feel a temperature but it felt normal.

“I feel great”, you say with as much cheer in your tone as possible, still holding onto his neck but mostly because another wave of dizziness had rushed through you and you needed some support to stay standing.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “You just … look a little off”.

You playfully rolled your eyes, similar to how he had just done, “Wow thanks Steve”.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that”.

“I know, I’m joking, I’m fine - really, it's nothing to worry about”. He eyes you and doesn’t fall for your grin so you tried your next trick up your sleeve. Leaning on your tip toes whilst pulling his face closer, you whispered against his lips, “I love you, Stevie”.

The tension momentarily eased from his shoulders as his grip around you tightened, “I love you too”.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest but I want my own loving”, Bucky broadly announced from the entrance of the kitchen where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes however as you pulled back from Steve and he could finally see your face, the happiness seeped from his face. “Woah, what happened? Are you ok?”

You gave a frustrated huff, finally releasing Steve’s neck as you pointed in the direction of the decorated table. “Right, both of you go and sit down before I decide you don’t deserve any food for being mean”.

Steve shuffled away first as you continued to cook the food, Bucky looking ashamed as he came over and kissed your cheek but before he could pull away, you quickly captured his lips in a kiss to show you’d been playing before and weren’t upset.

“Why are there only two plates on the table?” Steve questioned as he took a seat.

Without looking over your shoulder at him, you casually answered, “I’ve already had mine, I wasn’t sure when you were both going to be home and I didn’t want to wait”. They both seemed to accept your lie and you happily sat with them as they ate, asking about how the deals were going. They both seemed to be agreed that they were sure to have contracts signed tomorrow and had even been able to pay off some of the international police so that shipping of the goods could occur. In truth, after the soup, you were not feeling at all remotely hungry and even the smell of the cooked food had turned your stomach over.

A couple of hours later, the three of you were preparing for bed. Steve is in the middle and you are to his right and Bucky is to his left. You and the mafia boss had been kissing deeply for a couple of minutes, his hands beneath your shirt, brushing against your breasts, rough fingertips peaking your nipples as you ground down on his thigh. You were soaked and he could feel the evidence of it as you weren’t wearing any underwear but the longer the touches and kisses went on for, the more you were feeling unwell.

As his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he began to trail open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your throat, you noticed Bucky was doing the same thing but to Steve’s neck from behind. However, there were two Bucky’s instead of one as your vision swayed and it felt as if you were on a water bed with how unsteady you felt. The headache was close to a full-blown migraine as well now which only continued to make you feel nauseous so even though there was nothing more you wanted than to continue where this intimacy was leading but, for once, you had to stop it.

“Wait, just- just one moment”, you pushed against Steve's shoulders at the same time. The blonde's hold on you loosened as he moved his face back to look into your eyes but you’d closed them, trying to hide your face from him and Bucky who had also sat up further to check on you. “I just- sorry I’m tired and I… I’m not sure- sorry.. I don’t think-”.

Steve’s fingers tipped your chin up to look at him as he smiled softly down at you, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you’re tired then I’ll just hold you close, ok? Please don’t apologise for not wanting any of this”.

You relaxed in his arms, feeling grateful for him but also bad that you could feel how aroused he was against your stomach. “Thank you. I’m just feeling so tired today. Please don’t let me stop you both, continue without me, I just want to go to sleep”.

“You don’t have to give us reasons why you don’t want to do it, baby, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Me and Buck don’t have to fuck if you want to be held, I don’t want you thinking we’re neglecting you”.

Affection and love warmed your heart as you kissed Steve’s lips and then reached over his shoulder to kiss Bucky. “I love you both but seriously please continue, I like watching you both anyway so that’ll satisfy me enough if I’m not asleep by that point anyway”.

They both gave their love back to you with praises and pecks to your face before rolling away from you and beginning their exploration of each other's bodies. You watched with a smile on your face for a couple of moments and your core ached with need but as a burst of pain pounded through your temple, your eyes shut automatically to help ease the pain and from there, they never opened again as sleep took you soon after.

The next morning, your migraine had gone but your entire body felt weak and drained of any energy. Steve and Bucky took one look at you and determined that they’d be working from home, wishing to remain near you but they still needed the comfort of their home office upstairs whereas you remained downstairs, pretending to watch TV.

Somehow, you had continued to hide your seasonal illness, they just thought you still looked peaky. Today was the worst you’d felt so far, even having to use the wall as support whilst walking around the home, silently coughing into cushions so that the boys wouldn’t hear upstairs and this only increased the sharp pain shooting through your chest.

At lunchtime, Sam came over to visit and found you at the table in the kitchen, head lying against the table top as you dipped in and out of sleep. You were too tired to even pretend to joke and thankfully for once he didn’t pester you with being unwell, especially knowing Steve and Bucky were home, he assumed they had seen how bad you were so he just sat next to you at the table, easing his hand under your head so you had some comfort against the hard surface.

Soon after, Rafael knocked on the front door with your soup delivery. Usually h,e would stay at the door, never coming into your home but Sam insisted that he come out of the cold and deliver the soup to you in person.

“Yay!” you croaked, reaching out for the warm container, seeing the soup within and seeing that it was a deep red colour today, possibly tomato.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Rafael”, Sam noted, taking his seat next to yours once more as the new guard stayed standing at the head of the table. Other than Natasha, Sam was the lead of the security and guards and technically Rafael’s boss.

“Oh yeah, he used to be a chef”, you explained to Sam, whilst opening the lid of the container, smelling the delicious food and confirming your theory that it was tomato soup.

“Chef? I didn’t know you worked as a chef”, Sam remarked with a frown, eyeing Rafael with confusion as he’d been the one to complete the job interview and didn’t remember seeing chef on his CV.

Rafael casually shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat tense at the questioning but still forced a smile to his face to please his boss. “I didn’t think it was relevant to the job, to be honest”.

“We’ll have to get you on the bbq when the weather perks up, maybe that’ll stop the arguments between Steve and Bucky”, Sam mused over the thought.

You tried to chuckle but the exhaustion had you slumping against the table as you mumbled, “I feel like shit”.

Sam tensed next to you, “Maybe we should call a doctor. You know, I’m surprised Steve and Bucky aren’t down here right now looking after you, do they even know how bad you’re feeling today?”

“Wait, they’re both here?” Rafael asked Sam but he ignored him, his focus solely on you.

Once again you’re too tired to think of an answer and shrug your shoulders, turning your head to look up at Rafael, “I think the fairies like me too much”.

“Fairies?”, Sam questions thinking that you’d become delirious.

You smile genuinely to Sam, reaching to tap his shoulder, “Inside joke Sam, keep up”.

There was no further discussion of fairies as more hacking coughs ripped through you. It took a couple of moments and Sam rushed to get you a glass of water before you slumped back against the table in exhaustion.

“Why don’t you have the soup and then see how you’re feeling later? Maybe the rest is all you need”, Rafael suggested, filling the silence with his voice.

You couldn’t see it but Sam gave his employee a scathing look, “Rest is all she’s been doing. I’m calling the doc and then I’m going upstairs to tell Steve and Bucky”.

“Aren’t they busy?” Rafael continued to question Sam. “I’ve heard they’ve got that deal coming up from Italy and France, they might appreciate it if you wait a little bit before calling Doctors”.

Sam’s voice was quiet and stern but you were too tired to notice. “That’s not common knowledge, how do you know that?”.

Massaging your temples with the pounding thuds that hadn’t stopped since your coughing fit, you decided that Rafael was right, usually sleep made you feel better. Reaching for the soup one more, you opened the container as you addressed your bodyguard, “he’s right Sam. I just need today for all the work stuff to be over and then I’ll call the doctor. The boys don’t need any distractions, especially today, one more day isn’t going to kill me”.

Sam didn’t look happy as you began to idly sip on the thick, delicious soup. As you thanked Rafael for the meal, Sam finally looked back to him, his frown deep and unmoving as he asked, “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rafael’s spine straightened, “Oh yeah, right. Sorry, sir” and with that, he left to return to work.

“You don’t have to be so bossy you know, he’s just trying to help”, you tried to reason with Sam.

However, your friend ignored you and moved to hold your hand to pull your attention away from the meal and towards him. “I’m giving you until the evening, wait no- if you get any worse before the evening, I am calling the Doc, no arguments, understand?”

“Yes sir”, you say with a little salute.

Finishing your soup, your boyfriends finally came downstairs and you attempted to straighten your posture and plaster a fake smile on your face. Bucky paused in the entryway, sniffing the air and asking, “What’s that smell, I know it's from somewhere but can’t put my finger on it”.

“Is it my soup?” you say, trying to stand up and act like the floor was spinning beneath you.

“No, it’s not that”, he pondered, still looking around and trying to smell whatever he recognised but couldn’t pick it up again. Steve and Bucky both walked past you, kissing the back of your head as you casually explained that you were going to lie down for a little bit. “Wait, let me come with you-”, Bucky started but you held out your hand to stop him.

“You’ve got a busy time at work and I’ve got Sammy boy here anyway so you two continue with your work and we’ll have a nice evening in, Ok?”

“Yes Ma’am”, he mutters before continuing to make his lunch. It wasn’t often that he listened to your instructions but both men were so busy and overwhelmed with work and the consequences that could come from it all that they were all over the place.

The next hour passed by slowly and you didn’t manage to sleep even for a moment because your symptoms were making you feel so awful. You were wheezing so bad that each breath felt like you were suffocating, your eyes began to roll with how much the room was spinning and a violent tremble rocked through your entire body, you didn’t feel right, something was wrong and it was beginning to scare you.

“Sam?” your voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper but he still was able to hear you from where he had been on the phone with the doctor from across the room, having noticed your deterioration in health. He was kneeling by your side in a couple of broad steps, the phone balancing between his cheek and shoulder as he rested a hand on your temple, feeling your spiked temperature. “I don’t feel good”, you admitted, voice full of terror before more coughs ruptured through your chest, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Steve! Bucky get down here right now!”

“No… no, I just need to sleep”, the fear had disappeared from your voice as you wished for the exhaustion to take you completely, hoping that in sleep you wouldn't feel the pain destroying your insides.

“Hey! No! Don’t go t sleep, need you to stay awake for me, Doctor Banner is on his way but you can’t go to sleep”, Sam urgently tapped your face, rousing you from the sleep as Bucky had all but jumped down the entire flight of stairs at the shouting.

“What’s going on- What the fuck? Doll?” he replaced where Sam was so that he could continue to explain to the doctor what was happening.

“I’m just not feeling ok, it’s fine Bucky go back to work”, you were somewhat delirious, still not really opening your eyes but leaning into the coldness from Bucky’s hand as he cupped your face. Bucky looked to Sam for answers, his eyes bright and alert with fury and worry.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, not having any answer as to why you were suddenly so unwell, Bucky quickly turned back to you and assessed your deteriorating health and noticed just how laboured your breathing had become. As he spoke, it was with surprising gentleness but still held authority, “I need you to take a deep breath for me, honey, I want you to try and fill your lungs with air”.

“I’m trying, it’s just seasonal illness, it’ll be ok”.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, not letting go of your face but just moving in closer.

“It’s just seasonal”, your words began to slur as you became incoherent.

Steve finally descended the stairs with just as much purpose as Bucky as he demanded to know what was going on but Bucky couldn’t answer him as he continued to talk to you and keep you awake. “It’s not seasonal, you’re not breathing properly, it’s not-”. Bucky was leaning so close that he was able to smell your breath and he froze, it looked like he now wasn’t even breathing.

“What is it Bucky?” Steve demanded, kneeling next to him and reaching over to take your hand but also feel your pulse, which only made his own increase with worry.

Bucky leans closer and smells your mouth again, so close that you tried to move away as his nose nudged your lips. “What did you eat?” Bucky asked in a tone that forced your eyes to open with concern.

“Huh? Um just my soup”, you say whilst blinking quickly as he still wouldn’t come into focus.

“Soup? Where is it? Where’s the container?” before you could answer, he was on his feet and running into the kitchen as Steve continued to demand answers from his boyfriend, his hand now moving from your wrist to directly over your heart, continuing to count the beats.

Bucky cursed so violently that it actually made you shrink into the cushions but the movement only made you cough more and chest tighten as you struggled to breathe. He returned to the room, his face a deathly white and green shade as he uttered just one word: “Hemlock”.

There was just one brief second where not a body in the room breathed or even moved, one single second to process the poison that Bucky had spoken, the planet that he only knew about because of his time as the Winter Soldier and using it on his target. The poison that he could now smell on your breath, that originated from your container of soup.

It was Sam to speak first, Sam to snap the two men out of their frozen states as he gave the orders from Doctor Banner who had heard the word over the phone. “We need to get her to a hospital right now”.

Steve picked you up, and his entire body began to tremble with adrenaline and fear as no one even stopped to properly dress for the snow outside, only putting their shoes on before rushing to the car. Sam thankfully was able to use the adrenaline to remain headstrong as he climbed into the driver’s side of the car so that Steve and Bucky could both hold you in the back seats and try and keep you awake.

You were lying with your head in Steve’s lap with your body lying across Bucky’s as they clamped their arms around you as makeshift seatbelts. You had heard the word that Bucky had said and even though you knew what it was, you didn’t want to believe it, even as you continued to feel worse. “It’s not poison, it’s just soup”.

However, those words triggered something within your throat and once more you were coughing so hard that you thought you were going to vomit and cringed as metallic warmth filled your mouth and leaked out of the corner of your lips.

You slumped onto Steve and Bucky, head lulling back but Steve was quick to grab your face, tapping it and forcing you to stay awake, “Baby don’t go to sleep! Please stay awake for me! Stay with us, we’ll be at the hospital soon, I promise”.

You were scared, even though you were half-conscious, you were terrified now realising the severity of the situation, knowing that you were coughing up blood which was now soaking the front of Steve’s shirt and hearing how panicked your boyfriends were only made it worse. Through all the scary, dangerous times in your life, they always remained calm and in control but now they were both frantic and frightened.

As all three men continued to plead with you to stay awake, you forced yourself to open your eyes, only allowing yourself the luxury of blinking occasionally as you kept looking into Steve’s ocean-blue eyes. With his body and face so close to yours, you used him to ground you in the situation, trying to copy his breathing which had slowed since you’d opened your eyes; ignoring the pain from the breaths and resisting the urges to cough even though blood continued to fill your mouth.

“Am I going to die?” you whisper, not being able to ignore the questions now in the back of your mind anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched for a second before he tried to confidently whisper, “No, you’re not going to die”.

You didn’t believe him, especially as the trip to the hospital was delayed by the snow, every second feeling like it could be your worse, you didn’t want it to end like this.

“I love you.”

“You’re going to be ok, just keep looking at Steve, keep breathing”, Bucky pleaded, squeezing your freezing cold hand.

“Please, just say it back”, your voice was hardly audible anymore as your mouth was so full of blood.

“Stop talking and save your energy for when you’re feeling better”, Bucky tried to keep his composure but you knew he was close to snapping.

Your breaths were wet and laboured, wheezing so violently it rattled and echoed around the car but you still managed to plead, “Say it back-”.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me, baby”. Steve snapped first, his eyes were wide, fearful and yet beautiful with how stark the blue was as his eyes filled with tears, leaking down his cheek and into his beard.

You were thankful, for both of them, for everything and you wish you could have told them, wishing that you could have heard Bucky’s own declaration of love and adoration for you but the pounding of your heartbeat became so loud in your head that you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

But you continued to hold on, never once looking away from those pretty eyes of Steve’s as Sam finally screeched to a halt outside of the hospital. Once more, Steve carried you and there was a flurry of people in different coloured scrubs suddenly surrounding you as you were placed onto a cold bed.

One moment you were staring into Steve’s eyes and the next you were looking up at a stranger and the comfort you’d once felt, the thing that was grounding you to life was now gone and you couldn’t find him again, no matter how much you moved on the bed, even as the strangers poked and prodded at your body until you couldn’t deal with it anymore and finally closed your eyes.

Do you ever have those naps where you wake up and forget where you are, or what time or day it is? That was currently how you felt except the added sensation of floating encompassed your body as well. The only sort of normality felt throughout your body was a cool feminine hand stroking across your temple in a soothing, repetitive manner.

Your toes wiggled firstly and then your eyes behind your eyelids and even though you knew who was stroking your forehead, you still croakily asked, “Steve? Bucky?”

“It’s just me Sugar” Natasha sounded calm and peaceful as her fingers didn’t stop with their soothing motions. “The boys are going to be so pissed that you’re awake before they’ve got back”.

You huff and dared to open your eyes, grunting at the brightness of the room but thankfully your eyes adjusted and only one, still, Natasha smiled down at you. Seeing that you weren’t going to vomit or freak out, Natasha sat back in her chair, moving to hold onto your hand to give you some comfort. “You gave us a real scare”.

You thought back to everything that happened, some of it was a blur but most of it still played through your mind like a horror movie that you couldn’t look away from or escape. “Was I really poisoned?”

There was one thing that you appreciated about Natasha and that was her blunt honesty, not one to ever sugarcoat her words, “You were”.

“But… But how? I mean… the soup, Rafael, he wouldn’t-”. You stopped yourself talking, trying to envision all the interactions you’d had with him but only one thing repeated through your thoughts: Don’t trust anyone. That was one of the first rules Steve had taught you. “I don’t understand why? He seemed so nice to me, is his name even Rafael? Was everything a lie?”

“That’s what they’re just finding out. Apparently, the friend of a friend rouse was made up including his credentials, usually, our background checks are very thorough but he had some help to slip through the cracks”.

“Do you know what help he had? Who it was, I mean?”

Natasha for once seemed to think before she spoke which unnerved you, knowing that whoever’s name she spoke next wouldn’t be good news.

The monitor displaying your heartbeat began to beep as it increased with the dread that was settling through your body.

“All signs are currently pointing to Pierce”.

Your eyes closed as you tried to remember how to breathe. You knew about Alexander Pierce. Everyone did. He was ruthless and had plenty of finances and power to pay for his success but not only this, he had been one of the top employees of Hydra and usually in charge of the Winter Soldier. So yes, you all knew a lot about Alexander Pierce and his name was one to send fear through any of those involved in the Rogers mafia, even Steve.

As you opened your eyes again to look at Natasha, you could tell she wanted to tell you more but was holding the information to not panic you further but you needed to know. “Please just tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me”.

“We think he paid this guy to come and spy on Steve and Bbucky and it seems he put his sights on you. Specifically.. Because you’re their biggest weakness and it seemed like everyone knows that”.

Your face warmed with fear and anger, as fear prickled the corner of your eyes, “So what, now I’m not even safe in my own home?”

“That’s not-” Tasha began to lean forward in her seat but another voice cut her off.

“No, you weren’t safe in your own home”. Steve stood at your hospital room door, dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, looking nothing out of the ordinary but his face was wrath of calm and anger. Your eyes snapped from him to Bucky who had looked just as serious but as your eyes connected with his, the hard lines of his face smoothed out into a weak smile.

The two of them step into the room as Natasha stands, informing everyone that she’d give us some space and guard the door.

You’re trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, to keep them from slipping and cascading down your cheeks, not wanting your boyfriends to feel any more guilt but as you took a deep breath in, a sob erupts through you and you can’t keep the emotions back anymore.

You attempted to hide your face with your hands, even with the added difficulty of having tubes and wires attached to the backs of your hands and the tips of your fingers. The realities of everything that had happened began to destroy any hope that you had. You’d nearly died, in your own home where you were supposed to be most safe.

Steve and Bucky sat on either side of your hospital bed, moving silently as they always did and with careful ease, gently took a hand each and pried them away from your face, stroking away any tears that continued to escape.

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know… It’s a lot”, you tried to give reason for your crying, even though it was unnecessary. Bucky tilted your face towards him, his voice was so soft and caring that it nearly made you sob with how careful he was being with you, “Don’t apologise for crying, I tell you this all the time, Doll”.

You offered him a wet giggle, taking a few deep breaths before rambling on with your anxiety, “I bet I look like a right mess right now, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep for”.

They let you calm yourself down before Steve praises with his low captivating voice, “You always look beautiful, no matter how much snot is on your face”. He smiles as he manages to make you laugh before he turned serious, “It’s been 5 days, baby”.

Your face drops, “5… I’ve been asleep for 5 days?!”

“You passed out when we arrived and when they could finally stop the bleeding you-”

“Bleeding?” you questioned, remembering you were bleeding from the mouth but it didn’t seem like that much.

“The poison you’d ingested that day was a higher dose and caused internal bleeding. After they were able to stabilise you, they needed to detox you from the poison and make sure your body was healing so it was safe to keep you asleep”.

You tried to process everything that Steve had told you, it felt confusing for you to have been through so much and yet feel such little pain in your body.

As if reading your mind, Bucky once again captivated your attention as he asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No I’m not in any pain but I feel wrong like my body is floating in the water or something”.

“That might be due to the medications that they’ve got you on, they’re pretty strong Sweetheart”, his pet name helped to calm your disorientated mind, clinging on to the familiarity and focusing on the way both of their hands were holding yours and stroking tiny circles in your skin,

“Did you get the answers you wanted, from Rafael, or whatever his name is”.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance between each other but Steve decided to be the one to answer. “We got the answers, it was as Nat was explaining. Pierce wanted someone in the gang, spying and getting as close to us as possible and I guess they somehow managed to weasel their way in and tried to succeed with their plan to hit our weak spot”.

You took a deep breath to try and reduce the rising anxiety in the pit of your stomach before asking tentatively, “So what happens now? With Pierce I mean.”

“That’s a problem for another time, just need you to get better first”, Bucky interjected, lifting your hand to kiss the few fingers that were attached with clips or wires.

You tried to smile at him, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him but the feeling never met your eyes and this seemed to twist something in Steve and Bucky. Both of their demeanours changed, no longer were you looking at just your boyfriends but also the mafia boss and his second in command, mixing business with family.

Bucky began talking first, tone strong and husky, “This isn’t something we are taking likely. Sam’s already spent the last day and a half revisiting everyone’s past, making sure there are no other moles that have slipped through the cracks. No new faces are allowed anywhere near our home or you.”

As he spoke, you managed sure to nod your head and try to squeeze his hand in understanding. Steve shifted in his chair, capturing your attention as he continued the discussion. “You are safe and you should have been safe but we let you down, you were vulnerable when we weren’t there to protect you like we promised we would. We let you down, we broke our promise, we could understand if you didn’t want-”.

“Whatever you’re about to say you better forget about it right now”, you say sternly, heartbeat beginning to race on the monitor again as Steve’s mouth shut quickly with a snap. “The idea of being your weakness has always frightened me but, I could also be your greatest strength. I mean - Look at what you’ve been going just to protect the house, to protect me. I know you feel like you’ve let me down but I don’t feel let down in any way. Yes, of course, what’s happened is scary, especially in our home but I doubt it’ll ever happen again. They can try and tear us apart, they can try, but they won’t break us, they can’t break us. We have to remain on top ok? I always feel safe and trusted when I’,m with you both so please, don’t ever feel like I'm not because I am. I’ll always love you both, I’m not going anywhere”.

You sucked in air greedily after your short speech, the building emotions spilling freely everything you truly believed to the men beside you, not wishing for them to ever feel doubt for the relationship or how you felt.

Looking between them both, your heart sank as you noticed Bucky quickly wipe the corner of his eye. “I thought you said no more tears”, you spoke softly whilst trying to wipe away a stray tear.

“That’s before you decided to swoon me with your speech”, he quipped back, the light returning to his eyes once more as you laughed.

“I love you Bucky”.

“I love you, Doll”, standing from his chair, his metal hand stroked over the side of your face as he captured your lips with his, lingering for a few beautiful seconds before sitting back down.

Steve had lifted your hand during your speech and was kissing your palm and you reached out to stroke his beard, “I love you, Steve”.

He too stood, just as Bucky had but he kissed your forehead first, breathing you in for a moment before doing the same against your lips. “I love you too, so much baby”.

As Steve sat back down, your eyes began to feel heavy, all of the strong emotions exhausted you completely. “Will you both be here when I wake up? Not that I’m complaining about Natasha but she doesn’t spoon me like you both do”.

They both chuckle under their breath before Steve promises, “We aren’t going anywhere, sleep, Sweetheart”.

#stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #stucky #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky #bucky barnes #marvel smut #mafia au #mafia stucky #mine*

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thetarsier · 11 months

Note

Hiii I’ve been checking your blog and I love it, can I request secret relationship with Hotch? Like, Jack reveals your secret by accident by calling reader mom or smthn like that ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: I LOVE this.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notes: sickness (but like fever, not actually being sick), Derek Morgan being a little shit, not proofread

<3: aaron hotchner x reader

When you’d woken up that morning to Jack coughing and sneezing his little heart out, you’d known what kind of day it was going to be.

Seeing his condition, it was obvious that he shouldn’t be going to school, and once Aaron had woken up, too, he’d agreed. However, there was work to be done in the office for both of you, and you didn’t want to risk getting Jessica’s children sick, too. The only option was to bring Jack into the office. He could sleep on Aaron’s couch for the day, and then go home to bed straight after. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

As usual, you and Aaron took separate cars to work, you parked nowhere near each other, and Aaron always waited at least five minutes after you’d exited your car to leave his. All countermeasures to keep the keen eyes of your coworkers away from the two of you and your well-hidden relationship.

It hadn’t been going on for long - just under a year - but things had moved quickly, and you basically lived with Aaron and Jack, only going back to your apartment occasionally when you and Aaron decided it would be best for him and Jack to be alone. You loved the both of them from wherever you were, staying with them was just a way to love them a little bit closer.

And, boy, was there love. Much to your surprise, Jack had called you ‘mom’ the other day by accident, which led to you going back to your apartment while he and Aaron had a conversation about Haley. You felt flattered that he’d felt so safe and loved around you that the name had been given to you, and Aaron assured you that he wasn’t upset about it.

When you’d gotten back, Jack had hugged you tightly around your neck and whispered: “My mommy is watching over me, and you do that, too. So you’re also my mom. Dad said that I could call you that if I wanted to.”

“Yeah? You want to, buddy?” You’d asked, fighting back your tears.

“Yeah! D’you want to come play?” He brushed off the issue as if it were nothing, pulling away from you and grabbing your hand instead, leading you into the living room where his toys were.

That lively boy had been replaced now by a quiet, sick one, and you tried not to be distracted by the sounds of him coughing in Aaron’s office. You had paperwork to do. You were supposed to be working. Jack had his father, and Penelope, who seemed to be making more trips to the water cooler today than she ever had before.

“God, it’s awful, isn’t it?” JJ’s words made you turn your attention to her from where you’d been staring at the door of Aaron’s office.

“Sorry?”

“Hearing children in pain. It never gets better. It’s actually worse once you have a child,” She shook her head, “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Yeah,” You said on an exhale, shuffling some of your papers to give your hands a task, “I might go and see if they need anything, actually.”

“I doubt it. Hotch probably has everything Jack could need right in there,” JJ patted your shoulder as she continued her walk past your desk, “You don’t want to risk catching whatever he has.”

You nodded, swallowing as you looked down at your computer. You had to focus. If you went in there, all of the secrecy that you and Aaron had worked for would be put under a microscope. If Jack found comfort in you, like you knew he would, if Aaron let you stay with him in his office when he’d kicked everyone else out within a couple of minutes, every separate car journey to work would be rendered useless.

Profilers were a nuisance. They saw everything, every minute shift in behaviour. They would definitely notice the signs of a relationship between you and your boss.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Morgan asked as he came up behind you, placing his hands on your tense shoulders, “You’ve been staring at your computer screen for a while.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just distracted.”

He didn’t seem to buy it. Or, rather, he did, he just knew that there was a deeper reason as to why you were distracted that you weren’t mentioning. His fingers pushed into your shoulders as if he were trying to knead the secrets out of you.

“Oh, I get it,” He mumbled next to your ear and your heart rate began to pick up, “Someone’s got a new boyfriend.”

“What?” You squeaked, turning in your chair and forcing Morgan’s hands from you, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re checking your phone a lot, you’re distracted, you’re happier recently; all signs point to good sex.”

“Derek! This is a work environment.”

“You’re not denying it,” He grinned, leaning on his own desk that was right behind yours, “So you do have a guy.”

“No! No.” You squirmed under his knowing gaze, dropping your shoulders as you let out a sigh, “Okay, yes. Yes, I do. Now, will you leave me alone to do my work?”

He cheered loudly in success, but your worried glance around the space forced him to quieten down, and after he didn’t make any other noises for a few seconds, the eyes in the office that had been drawn to the two of you quickly left again.

“Just…” You turned back to your computer, “Don’t mention anything to anyone, okay?”

“Only if you answer one question: was I right? Is the sex good?”

You imagined what Derek’s reaction might be if he realised he was talking about his boss, the thought almost put a smile on your face. Instead, you glared at him over your shoulder, and he raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

“Hey, baby girl-” He shouted across the office while holding eye contact with you.

“No! Okay fine,” You leaned closer to him, speaking in a hushed whisper, “The answer to your question is yes.”

His shit-eating grin only grew wider at your answer, and when Penelope approached the two of you, Derek made an excuse of asking her out to lunch, and the two of them left the office together. You could finally relax.

Until the sound of Jack’s coughing punctured through the air again.

As much as Derek annoyed you (much like an older sibling), he was brilliant at distracting you from everything going on in your life. And even though you were sure that he was telling Penelope your secret at that very moment, you couldn’t help but be a little bit grateful that you’d managed to tear your mind away from the child in Aaron’s office.

It was scary to think about what could happen if the people in your office found out about you and Aaron. As a woman, it was undoubted that you would get at least one comment about sleeping your way to the top, and even though HR knew about your relationship in order to keep professionalism, you couldn’t imagine the kinds of issues that might arise with other agents if they all knew about your relationship. People could be made uncomfortable, or accuse Aaron of preferential treatment; your jobs could be on the line.

But, then again, it would relieve a huge weight off your shoulders. You wouldn’t have to worry about taking separate cars, waiting in the parking lot, or having to stay away from the person who brought you the most comfort when you were really in need of a hug.

No. No, you couldn’t be public about your relationship until either one of you didn’t work at the BAU anymore, which you were sure wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

The door to Aaron’s office opened, and Jack appeared, holding Aaron’s hand and a blanket that he hadn’t let go of since he’d left the house. You tried to seem unfazed, glueing your eyes to your paperwork, but your heart beamed out of your chest when Jack pulled Aaron to a stop right beside your desk.

“Hey, you feeling okay, buddy?” You asked, keeping your voice gentle. The burn of about a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly became apparent.

Which was why, when Jack held his arms up to be brought up into your lap, loudly exclaiming ‘Mommy!’ as you hesitantly pulled him up, you knew there was no way you could hide. Even if he hadn’t said anything, the way he melted into you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, was probably a dead giveaway.

“Oh, sweetheart,” You cooed as you rubbed his back, looking up at Aaron, who was shielding you somewhat with his body as he leaned against your desk, watching you with a hint of a smile, “It’s okay, baby. You’ll feel all better soon, I promise.”

“How soon is soon?” Jack groaned into your skin, and you kissed his hot cheek.

“Really, really soon, buddy, okay?”

You continued rubbing his back as the people around you pretended to continue on with their tasks. Aaron rolled Derek’s desk chair from behind his desk and pulled it up next to you and Jack, lips stretching into a thin line.

“He was upset, asking for you. I thought I’d rather he be happy than us protect ourselves,” He explained in a low voice, “I probably should have asked.”

“It’s alright,” You assured him, “I’m glad you brought him out, it’s been killing me all day. What are we going to tell everyone?”

“I’ll tell them to mind their own business,” He placed a hand on your knee, away from the view of everyone else, “We did everything right, telling HR but keeping it a secret from the team. It can be a sort of… relief that we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We should get him back to your office,” Jack had fallen asleep against you, so you stood up carefully, keeping his head still with one hand cradling it, “Morgan will be back soon, and we should probably figure out a strategy to best tell him-”

“Oh!” Came a shout across the office as you and Aaron were halfway up the stairs. You squeezed your eyes shut, not believing in your bad luck, and Aaron turned around to look at Morgan, “Hotch is the secret boyfriend?”

“Watch your volume, Morgan,” Aaron warned, “As much as it may not seem like it, you’re still at work.” The ‘And don’t you dare wake up my son’ was implied, but Jack did nothing more than wiggle around in your arms at the loud noises.

“Oh, man,” Derek grinned as you and Aaron continued to walk up the stairs to his office, “I know something about you, Hotch.”

His taunts were blocked out by Aaron opening his office door for you and closing it behind himself, twisting the lock and pulling the blinds as you set Jack down on his sofa and tucked his blanket around him.

“What is he talking about?” Aaron asked once you’d stood up, hands coming to rest on your waist in a way they never had while you two were at work.

You relished in his touch, morphing it into a hug as you wound your arms over his shoulders. At home, he was always touching you, always somewhere close, but it was different - new - in his office, where the only things exchanged between the two of you were longing looks and papers.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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plush-rabbit · 11 months

Text

Coffee and Fated Tragedies

Something cute about The Spot or something, but like before he became The Spot. Maybe I'll do something about him and his holes later

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I need him, like carnally. There’s like nothing about him and I need to get this off my chest before I like combust so¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You stand near a water cooler, watching the bubbles float to the top. Your cup has been empty for the past minute, and you consider taking the rest of your break outside. The fluorescent lights are making it difficult to stay awake, and the sterile air at Alchemax is burning your eyes.

With a sigh, you reason to yourself that the short trip to the parking lot would waste the remainder of your break, and you’d have to walk back to your desk by the time you even stepped near the doors. You turn your head, and watch as a scientist turns the corner, taking slow and careful steps to make sure the obnoxious amount of files that he’s holding doesn’t tip over.

He slows down enough, taking a pause next to the water cooler, and with a peek around the files he spots you looking at the files with wide eyes. There’s a certain look in his eyes that has your neck burning.

“Um-” you clear your throat, placing the empty cup of water in the trash- “do you need any help?”

His eyes scan you, giving you a quick run down, suspicion twisted into his features. “It’s fine- I'm fine,” he snaps, holding the file just a bit tighter, almost defensively. And as if the world were against him, the top half of the stack nearly spills over, before you hold onto it, steadying the stack once more. The tips of his ears flush into a deep hue of red, and you smile at him nervously.

“I’m on my break,” you tell him. “It wouldn’t be a bother. Plus, I’m sure you would much prefer for the files to be in order rather than all er- out of order,” you reason.

His eyes dart around the room, before finally letting out a sigh. “If you wouldn’t mind, then yes. I’d appreciate the help,” he says slowly, as if still can’t believe that he’s allowing someone else to hold such important paperwork. “Please and thank you,” he mumbles.

You smile, nodding your head, quickly grabbing halfway through the stack and holding it firmly in your hands. Having the files fall after offering assistance is the last thing that you need- especially after the scientist had such a tone in his voice.

Words stay stuck in your throat as you follow behind him without a sound. You’re sure you should be talking to him, but he isn't making conversation either. Plus, you aren’t entirely sure what you would talk to him about. The weather? You only felt it when you clocked in in the morning. Lunch? No, you’ve heard around that most scientists don’t even take their lunch these days- too busy with whatever has been going on these days. Your mouth pulls into a thin line. Truth be told, you want to ask about the files- you’re positive that it has something to do with whatever has ad the building in such a buzz. But you doubt he’d even tell you.

“I apologize for making you waste your break on this,” he mumbles, giving you a quick glance over his shoulder. He makes eye contact with you briefly before he looks forward once again.

“Huh? Oh! That’s fine. It’s no worries, really. I was the one who offered after all,” you say hurriedly. He huffs and silence befalls the both of you once more, but you’re much too eager now after his words. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where are we delivering them to?”

“Dr. Octavius’s office. She said that she needs to review the recent ana-” he stops short and he straightens his back, clearing his throat- “experiment.”

“Oh,” you say. You don’t have the luxury of knowing the inner workings, and a part of you wishes that you did. You always were a bit of the nosey type. “Are you part of those experiments as well, um- I’m sorry I don’t believe that I asked for your name.”

“Johnathan. Ohnn. Dr. Ohnn,” he says, stumbling over his words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Ohnn,” you say with a smile, stopping just behind him when he turns his head.

“And you are?” There’s a tense layer laced into his words, but when you answer, he smiles slowly and nods to himself. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he mumbles.

It's only been a few days since your encounter with the scientist and maybe it's because you've finally noticed him, that you notice him more and more.

You see him in the cafeteria, surrounded by other scientists.

In the hallway, carrying a much more manageable stack of files that asking if he needs assistance would probably be offensive.

You see him peering into the different break rooms located on each floor, locking eyes with you for a moment, before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He lingers in doorways, looking around and lifting his chin to peer over the crowd, trying to find someone. Sometimes, you’ll catch his eye and when you do, he looks away quickly and walks away.

A part of you thinks that maybe he’s waiting for you to approach him, but you can’t be too sure on that assumption. It is a nice thought to have though.

It isn’t until your coworkers grab your bicep and whisper in your ear at how convenient it is that Dr. Ohnn appears where you are. There’s a smile that stretches across their face, and for a moment, you play along that the doctor might be interested in you.

“Oh yeah, the cute and stalkerish scientist,” you say with a smile, placing a hand over your chest. “What a catch,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the fits of giggles.

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind having said cute and stalkerish scientist be fond of you, but it probably isn’t that. It’s a nice thought to have, but you don’t fester on it for too long. He’s a scientist- one of the important ones around here, and you’re simply here for your paycheck and the benefits.

You sit at your desk, typing and retyping emails, answering calls, and sneakily going on your phone when you can. For a moment, you think to yourself that maybe you should quit- live in the middle of nowhere, tough it out, but then your coworker drops off a pastry at the edge of your desk with a hasty “you’re welcome” and when taking a bite, the idea of living without the sweet baked good.

A shadow crosses over your desk, and there’s a soft ‘click’ sound and you look up to see a cup of coffee placed on your desk, and over it stands the scientist who’s been not-so-secretly searching for you.

“Hello,” he greets you, his tongue tripping over your name. “I was wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee.” There’s a fiddly tone laced into his words, and it makes you smile.

He certainly is cute.

“Hello Dr. Ohnn,” you greet. “Thanks for the coffee.” You grab the cup, and peer inside the cup. It’s half full. You glance up at him. “I don’t suppose you brought creamer or anything like that with you?”

You see the apple in his throat bob as he gulps. “No,” he says, almost ashamed. “I uh- I didn’t know how you liked it and thought to play it safe with black. I apologize.”

“Would you like to walk with me to the breakroom?” You offer, standing up and grabbing at the cup. You grab at a napkin and cover the pastry, before taking a step away from your desk.

Instantaneously, he perks up. He smiles at you, taking a step back to allow you to walk with him. His forefinger and thumb pinch at the leg of his glasses, adjusting them so they sit properly on his face.

The walk is short, only light conversation about the weather and how the day has been going so far fills the air.

Thankfully, the break room is empty. You don’t think that Dr. Ohnn would like an audience when he’s with you.

You walk to the counter, and grab a pack of creamer and sugar. The dark coffee turns to a lighter version of itself.

“So-” Dr. Ohnn rushes to your side when you start to speak- “what made you bring me a cup of coffee?” You stir in the contents and bring the rim of the cup to your lips, giving him the chance to speak.

“I wanted-” he trails off, and turns his head- “I just thought it would be nice to repay you. After you helped me with the files the other day.”

A smile graces your lips and he returns it, before looking away and clearing his throat. “Well thank you for the coffee, Dr. Ohnn. It was much appreciated.”

“Johnathan,” he corrects. You tilt your head, confusion scrunching your brows. “You can call me Johnathan.”

“Oh,” you chirp. And realization dawns on you, as you smile. “Okay then. Thank you for the coffee, Johnathan.”

He nods curtly. “I just apologize that it wasn’t anything better than the break room coffee. I made sure to brew a fresh batch.” He shifts his weight nervously on each foot. “I’d have brought you some fancy coffee, or taken you somewhere but-” his face turns into a deep hue, and he pulls along the collar of his shirt. “I uh- didn’t know your schedule or if you’d even want to go.” He lets the end of the sentence trail off into a rushed slur of words.

You dig your nails into the cup as the realization of what he wanted to do dawns on you.

The cup is placed down, and suddenly the room feels hot. “Oh! Really?” You unconsciously lean towards him, and he nods, looking away from you. "I’m flattered.” You can feel the tips of your ears burn. “I mean, if you’re not too busy after the end of the day, I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you.” You bite the inside of your cheeks before taking a risk. “Or we can get a bite to eat? Whatever you prefer of course.”

“Really?” He asks, a smile stretching across his face. “I’d love to do that. Either. We can definitely get something to eat.”

“That’s great!” You exclaim, clapping your hands together. But you immediately retract. “Ah. I usually take the train to work, so if we can get something maybe close by? Like walking distance or-”

“I have a car,” he rushes. Your eyes widen and he straightens himself. “I can take us wherever you want to go. I don’t mind. I can drop you off at the station or at your home. Wherever you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask, nerves making your stomach twist and turn.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t mind. Honest.”

Nodding your head, you smile. “Okay,” you tell him. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind, then we can go to whatever restaurant- so long as you pick it.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling widely at you. “I’ll meet you at your desk, after I clock out,” he says confidently, before smiling a bit more softly. “Is that alright with you?”

“It’s alright with me,” you confirm.

“Great. It’s a date.” There’s worry laced into his words at his sentence, and you can't help the grin that grows.

“It’s a date.” He smiles when you agree with him. You reach your hand over, pausing and about to retract. With his eyes on you, you decide to commit. You reach over and grab his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you later, Johnathan.” You give him another smile, before you wave goodbye, walking back to your desk with the coffee in your hand.

He sits down in front of you. After the rush of Spider-man- Spider-men, he reminds you- the building is in a panicked state. You’ve found some place to rest where the alarmed employees won’t peek through.

Your thumb ghosts over the red spot where the bagel had hit Johnthan. You click your tongue, frowning, and run your hand through his hair.

“Sorry about messing up your hair,” you mumble, running your fingers through the strands.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He looks up, and your hands follow, curving down from the top of his head, down to cup his face. “Bagel had already messed it up.” He looks away from you, face growing warm under your palms.

“You took a hard hit.” He looks back down and you return to the top of his head, pinching away at any crumbs. “I forgot how strong Spider-man is.”

“Was,” he corrects.

You frown. “Is he not Spider-man?”

He murmurs something under his breath that you are unable to hear. “Not ours. It’s what I’m so busy with.” You choose not to respond, and he takes it as an invitation to continue further. “You saw me get hit with a bagel,” he groans. You smile softly even if he can’t see it.

You want to press further about whatever it is that he’s working on and why there are two Spider-men, but you know that it isn’t the time for that. You gulp and try to fix his hair, the once red spot, growing faint. Your mouth pulls into a thin line, and you take in a breath.

With his head still down, you return to cup his face, lifting him up slightly. He turns his head, his nose and mouth pressing against your palm. You smile at him, and lower yourself, pressing a chaste kiss against the spot. His face flames up once more.

“I’m just happy it was a bagel and not an apple,” you tell him. “Come on,” you tell him, reaching down to grab at his hand, “I’m sure one of us is being looked for.” He squeezes your hand, and follows you quietly.

You sit beside him, the car playing a song from your playlist, and the air conditioner blowing a nice cool breeze to combat the warm air that is outside. Your legs are tucked underneath you, the drinks dotted in condensation as the two of you eat inside the car.

Rain starts to pitter patter against the windshield and you turn your head to watch the drops collect.

You turn back to Johnathan, watching as he eats his fries. He raises his brows at you. “Sorry to make you waste your gas,” you say, feeling just a bit bad about it, but not enough to lose your appetite.

He shakes his head, quickly grabbing at your drink and taking a sip. You smile when he realizes that he grabbed the wrong drink. “No, no,” he comforts. “I like being with you. This is fine. Plus as a scientist, the pay is fine. As long as I have access to my bank account, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about that type of stuff.” He reaches for your drink again, stopping short and sending you an apologetic smile, before grabbing at his own. He bites the tip of his straw, and takes a small sip before letting go. “If anything, I’m sorry that I took a drink from your soda.”

The rain collects, a storm furthering on, and you think you hear thunder somewhere. You two have flirted enough, been on enough dates to classify yourselves as “seeing each other” - whatever that means- when people ask, that it seems fine to take drinks from each other's straws. You know that what he did is an indirect kiss and you wonder if he knows that.

You reach over, cupping your hands over his and tilting the drink towards you. You look at him, before returning your gaze to the drink and place your lips over the straw, taking a small sip. The taste of his drink rests heavy on your tongue, and you want more of it.

“Now we’re even,” you say softly, letting go of his drink and returning to your side of the car.

His face flushes into a dark color, and his lips are parted open.

There’s a realization far off into your mind that he did realize what just transpired between the two of you and a soda.

Johnathan sets the drink down and adjusts his glasses, peering out the windshield where the rain washes down in waves. He turns back to you and reaches past the boundary that are the cupholders. His hands are warm as they cup your face, one reaches around, fingers curved over the back of your head, and the other holds you gently, letting you pull away if you were unsure about this, but you lean towards him.

Your heart beats against your chest, and you think that it’s going to bruise you, leave you battered and spill out, a bloody mess over his car.

You’d really have to apologize then.

The beating doesn’t stop- not when he’s pressing closer to you. It goes on, drumming inside of you, erratic and following the heaviness of the raindrops. It goes on as he kisses you, hands fumbling to keep the drinks steady when he pushes himself too close to you. He kisses fiercely, and desperately. His glasses press against your face, and you grab onto his shirt, twisting the fabric

The kiss deepens, and he pulls away for a breath of air, gasping for it as he presses pecks against the corner of your mouth. The cups be damned. You press yourself against him, your hands flat against his chest as you push him back, clambering across to sit on his lap.

His hands find themselves at your hips, and yours rest over his neck. He leans into your touch, and there’s a loud honk. You both startle, but he keeps kissing you, a hand leaving you to fumble with the seat.

Thunder booms in the sky, and he bunches your shirt in his hand.

The seat shoves back with full force, and you break away. You stare at each other with wide eyes, and you’re the first one laughing, wrapping your arms around him and giggling into his neck. Your heart still beats with a heavy pitter-patter. His laugh echoes in the car, and he holds you tightly.

“I like your laugh,” you mumble into his neck. You press a kiss against him, and when you nuzzle into him, you can feel his pulse quicken.

“I like you,” he says tenderly. “A lot.”

You pull away, and his hands slip underneath your shirt, his hands burn against your skin as he holds your waist. “I like you a lot too.” You press a kiss against him. “Do you want to come back to my place?” Your hands move to cup his chest. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you tease, kissing along his jaw. Underneath you, he stiffens and you smile. “How ‘bout it Dr. Ohnn?” You press yourself against him, giving a soft roll of your hips. “Wanna continue this back at my place?” You fix his glasses, and smile as he stares at you with heavy-lidded eyes with pupils blown-out.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “I’d-” and as if the universe were against the idea itself, his phone begins to ring. Quickly, you and him search for the phone, and just as abundantly as the tension had started, it ends. He grabs at his phone and clears his throat, giving you a smile before answering it. You can catch only snippets of the conversation, and you watch as his face falls, and he gives you a sad look.

Disappointment makes your shoulders fall. Whatever was going to happen, isn’t. At least not tonight. Clumsily, and something a lot worse than the “walk of shame”, you move awkwardly off of him, careful to not touch the drinks, and to not hurt him.

He finishes the conversation, just as you sit down. You turn to him, and wait for him to start.

“I have to go. It’s about work,” he says pitifully. “I- I don’t know when- Maybe we can-” he stops himself short. “I’m sorry.”

You smile, and close the gap between the two of you with another kiss. “‘T’s not your fault. Maybe we can pick this up again sometime.”

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully.

You nod. “Definitely.” You press another kiss against him. “I really do like you Johnathan.”

“And I really like you,” he mumbles, and your name sounds honeyed on his tongue.

“Mind dropping me off at least?” You ask, not really looking forward to having to call for some taxi service of the sort.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything for you.”

There’s a tapping at your window. It’s soft at first, and you only noticed it due to the pattern behind it. You groan and turn over, grabbing at your phone and hiding under the covers. The screen is bright and blinds you for a moment before you read the time.

The tapping at the window hurries and it’s far too late- or early depending how you look at it- to deal with whatever or whoever is behind the glass. You close your eyes, your stomach twisting into itself and hoping that after a few more knocks, whoever or whatever will just move on.

Then it starts to bang, and you jump with a start, almost going to turn on your bedside lamp, but stopping yourself. Maybe you could trick whoever is behind the glass that you’re asleep or not home.

You’re tempted to grab at the pocketknife that you have hidden somewhere in your bedside table. The knocking on your window grows relentless. Whoever is there is banging, and then it just stops. You hold your breath, slowly reaching your hand to grab at the knob to the drawer to blindly look for the knife while your gaze stays focused on the window.

On the other side, the words are muffled, and soft, but you hear them. Your name is whispered again in a hushed tone, the knocking returning, begging for you to answer. Slowly, your hand returns to your side, and the bed creaks as you shift your weight.

You recognize the voice. It’s him.

“Johnathan?” You ask in a shaky voice, hoping that you’re right.

“Yes,” he says hurriedly.

The blankets have twisted themselves around you, and you kick them off. As you shift and turn, the bed creaks. Light fills the room, a warm glow that has you wincing and moving towards the window.

“Give me a minute. Let me open the window.” Your hands fist at the curtain when he replies.

“No!” He shouts, and in a softer voice, he speaks again. “Don’t.”

Your hand returns to you, and you remember the rumor that was going on around Alchemax.

How Dr. Ohnn wasn’t- right. How he wasn’t human, or how he should have died. It was a joke around the office, as if whatever happened was humorous, but when someone asked, the joke died.

He couldn’t be whatever it is that the others were describing him as.

“Johnathan?” You call out. He knocks against the window. “Are- You can come in. It’s okay,” you reassure him.

“No,” he says again.

You frown, and fist your hands together, your nails digging into your palms. “Then I’m going to open the window.”

“Don’t.” He sounds scared.

“Johnathan.” Your voice is stern, at least that’s what you’re hoping for.

“This was a mistake,” he says. You’re sure that he’s talking to himself, but even so, you reply.

“You came here,” you hiss out, face burning with some type of emotion.

It’s silent, and you fear that he’s left. “I wasn’t thinking,” he says. “I just- I wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

Your shoulders slump. “I wanted to see you too.” It’s silent and you take a deep breath. “Please come in.”

“Okay,” he finally concedes. Before you can make your way to open the window, his voice starts again. “But you don’t have to open the window. I can get in.”

A nervous laughter escapes your mouth before you can stop it. “Whatever you say.”

You look around, wondering what he’s going to do. Maybe he’ll walk through the door. Or appear in a vent. But then a black spot forms on the ceiling, and you watch as something white, and black spotted exits through the hole. And then all at once, a lump of whatever it was falls to your floor.

It groans out in discomfort, and you watch as legs and arms straighten themselves out. Once upright, a man-shaped person- you aren’t entirely sure- is faced towards you. A black spot where a face should be stares at you.

The rumor was true. There’s a twisting in your stomach, and you yelp, pressing yourself against your headboard, and you immediately regret it, when he stiffens and moves closer to your bedroom door.

It’s Johnathan.

He’s all skin and spots, standing far too tall in your bedroom.

“I’m sorry. I just- I wasn’t expecting-” you bite at your bottom lip- “spots. Do you-” You pause. Does he eat? Does he drink? He stands so awkwardly, shifting his weight, and it reminds you of him. It’s still him. “Do you want to sit down with me?” You pat the space next to you, the one on the bed that’s close to the wall.

He must be feeling some type of way because he nods and walks over. He’s a mess of limbs, legs long and hands cup and twist at the bed sheets as he sits next to you. He still looks away from you.

You missed him. You open your mouth to tell him just that, that you wanted to see him and were worried for him.

“How have you been?” You bite the inside of your cheeks at the wrong words.

“What do you think?”

“I’ve missed you.” He looks at you, and you stare into the hole that place where his face once was. You wonder what expression he would make. You think he’d look surprised. “I quit Alchemax. There were cops and stuff and well thankfully I wasn’t a scientist so I was able to just leave. Cops still asked me some questions.”

“Where are you working now?”

“There’s this little library a few streets over-” you wave your hand in a vague direction- “pay’s all right, but I had some money saved up. I uh- might move. Get a smaller place, you know.”

“I think I’m not gonna have a place to live.”

“You can stay with me,” you say. “I’d like the company. You know, as long as you help pack and stuff. We- I can get your stuff from your place. You know, if the police haven’t taken anything as evidence.”

“Most of it has been taken.” He doesn’t explain further.

“I can get you some new clothes.” You peer at him, and you can’t help but just stare at him. “I’d uh- I’d have to measure you. Get you a scarf, or a hat. Maybe both,” you add.

“I can’t believe I’m in your bedroom and I look like this.”

You frown. “Yeah, well,” you trail off. You rest your head on a white part of him, your hand over his chest, fingertips just below a black spot. “I’m glad that you’re here. I was worried. I thought that- that something else had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry for making you worried.” You know that he means it.

“It’s okay.” You aren’t sure if you mean it. You worried yourself to tears. He grunts out a response, and you kiss at a white area on his shoulder. “Are you hungry?” You furrow your brows. “Can you eat?”

“You wanna ask about the holes, right?” He says, and you nod. “Might as well get it out of the way,” he mutters.

“What are they?”

“Spots. I’m thinking about calling myself The Spot.” He turns to you, and you grab at a hand, rimming the edge of it with the pad of your forefinger. “What do you think?” He says your name, but stops short, when he realizes what you’re doing. “Oh.”

You pull away, and he grabs at your hand and brings it back. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Can you feel it?” You ask, returning to another spot.

He nods swiftly. “You can put your hand in it.” You look up at him and tilt your head curiously. “In my hole. You can put your hand in my hole.” You snort at the phrase, but take him up on his offer.

Your hand disappears, and you watch as it comes up on another spot of his body. You flex your hand, and it’s surreal, seeing it appear from somewhere else.

“Woah,” you breathe out. “You’re so cool,” you mutter.

“You think so?” He asks incredulously.

“Mhm.” You nod slowly, pulling your hand partly out, watching as your fingers still peek out. “Super cool,” you mumble. You pull your hand out and you smile up at him. You turn your hand, seeing it fully intact, and you try to fight back a yawn, only to fail. “Are you tired?”

“I woke you up,” he says in a small voice.

“I’m glad that you did,” you say earnestly. “I’m happy that I got to see you.” You hold his hand in yours, and your fingertip goes along the white area of his body. “Do you want to spend the night?” You tighten your hand around his. “I want you to. I’d like you to get some rest.”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

“In your bed?”

You snort. “Of course, in my bed. It’d be fucked up if I gave you the couch or something.” You let go of his leg and slap his knee. “Come on, Johnathan. Get under the covers.” You grab at the furled up mess of blankets, straightening them over your body and his. He watches your every move, and keeps his face turned in your direction until the light clicks off and you can’t see him. You lay beside him, turning on your side, and resting your hand over his chest, careful to not let your hand dip into one of his holes.

“Goodnight,” he says your name in a quiet voice, one of his hands clutching onto your forearm.

“Night Johnathan,” you whisper, pressing a kiss against him.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #the spot #the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader #atsv spot #spot x reader #i love him #he's so fucked up #i wanna like kiss #i fell in love with him the minute i saw he was all limbs and silly #and then i wanted him when he was all scary and limbs

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roosterforme · 3 months

Text

Adult Education Part 17 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica realizes she is going to have to work hard to help the students in the class she is teaching in Brian's place. Add that to her tenure review, and she's already exhausted. At least she can trust her boyfriend. Jake couldn't be more proud of Jessica, but a night out without his girlfriend is a bit eye-opening for him.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, mention drinking and driving, 18+

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"You'll never believe what happened!" Jessica gushed, releasing Jake and bouncing around a bit. He was all smiles, just like she'd come to expect with him. There were even two beers and a dish of peanuts waiting on the table which made her feel a little weak. She pushed him down onto one of the high stools and let her hands rest on his thighs.

"Damn," he grunted when she kissed him again, slotting herself between his legs with a laugh. "Either your day was excellent, or you're very happy to see me."

"It's both," she assured him, basking in the soft pressure of his lips on hers. "I am officially under tenure review."

"Reedy," he grunted, cupping her face in both of his hands and pulling back slightly. "Are you serious?" Wide, green eyes searched her face for a hint that she may be joking, but she just shook her head slightly. "How?"

She told him everything, sparing no details about her time in Rosenthal's office with her friend and how much that meant to her. "She promised me that Dr. Rosenthal would hear me out, and when I let him know I never got a tenure review from Brian, he agreed immediately." Tears stung at her eyes again as Jake listened intently, his hands stroking her face. "He started the process today, Jake! He's so busy right now, since he's stepping into Brian's shoes while still covering his own classes, but he still took the time to look at my grade book and my schedule! And he complimented me on how organized I am!" She felt ridiculous for crying at Chippy's, and she could see a concerned looking Chippy himself through her blurred vision, so she gave him a little wave.

"You're incredible," Jake whispered, kissing her forehead. "And how was your meeting with the dean?"

Somehow her smile grew brighter as she said, "He told me the fratraiser was the best event of alumni weekend and already asked me to do it again next year."

Jake's lips were all over her face, bumping her glasses and whispering that he was proud of her while she laughed. If Rosenthal and Dean Walters were both in her corner along with her friend, she felt like she could do anything. She felt like she could succeed. Finally.

Eventually she made it to her own seat where she started to crack open some peanuts. "I'm absolutely starving," she muttered. "I think all the adrenaline from the day is messing with me." Her fingers were shaking as she pressed the peanuts to her lips, and Jake pushed the bowl closer to her.

"I brought some food with me," he said, kind of nodding toward the door. "It's in the cooler in my truck." He paused before asking, "You still want me to sleep over, Jess?"

"Of course!" She pressed her lips together and softly said, "I've never really done midweek sleepovers before?" Frankly, she'd never been in a relationship she took as seriously as this one. With Jake.

He lounged back in his seat so casually as he said, "Neither have I. So I was just going to follow your lead on this one, soon-to-be-tenured Dr. Reed."

Jessica blushed as she chewed up another peanut. She imagined mind blowing sex, going to bed early, and Jake making her breakfast in the morning before they both left for work. But she was really worn out from the day, so she said, "We can figure it out together."

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

Jake watched his girlfriend as she stood at her kitchen counter in her work clothes and ate the casserole he made for her. She moaned softly while she licked her fork with clearly no idea that she was making him hard. He loved cooking, and she loved eating whatever he made. And then she said, "This is so good, Jake." And she'd make the word good sound like it had too many syllables. And she did all of this while wearing her high heels and cute glasses and looking at him.

This was just the first midweek sleepover, but Jake was already looking around to see how much stuff she really had. It could all fit in his condo. She could ditch her rental and move in with him. He could cook for her all the time and tell her he loved her. Why hadn't he done that yet? He was as excited for her tenure review as he had been for his last rank promotion. He recently printed out a picture of her and flew with it in his helmet bag. He was a mess right now, hesitating because he was afraid of not saying it at the right time and worrying that it was too soon.

"It was really good," she whispered as she set her fork in the sink, and Jake realized he'd never responded to what she said.

"I love cooking for you, Baby," he told her with a wide grin while she yawned. "You had a big day today. Almost ready for bed?"

"Yeah, I'm tired," she replied quickly, voice soft. "But I kind of wanted to... mess around a little bit?"

There was no way he could deny her something she wanted, especially when he wanted it so badly, too. Without warning, Jake got his hands on her thighs and hiked her skirt up to her waist. Jessica gasped and grabbed at his shoulders just like he knew she would. "Jake!" Her voice was muffled by his lips as he lifted her up, guided her legs around his waist, and carried her to her bedroom. His fingers tangled in her lace underwear as she rubbed herself against his abs.

She shrieked in delight as he dropped her onto her back on the bed. "Scoot up to the pillows, Baby," he instructed. "And keep your shoes on."

He watched her shimmy up to rest her head on the pillows while she kept her feet up in the air, and he undid his boots, tossing them aside. Jake crawled up the bed, kissing her through her panties before hiking her legs up over his shoulders and pushing them back until he was kissing her lips and the tip of her nose.

When he ran his rough hands along the backs of her thighs, she whimpered into his mouth. Jake could feel her fingers on his name tag and insignia pins as he pushed his cock against her core through layers of fabric. "Let me eat your pussy?" he asked between soft kisses.

She met his questioning eyes and rubbed her core up against him. "I want you to," she gasped, and Jake pressed one more rough kiss to her lips before moving down her body to his intended target with a little grin.

"These are pretty," he murmured, kissing along the top of her underwear as he pushed her skirt up higher around her waist. Jessica's fingers found his hair, and her high heels dug slightly into his back. So far, he loved midweek sleepovers. As he pulled the blue lace to one side, he kissed her wet slit and thought about how there was actually plenty of room in his closet for her entire lingerie collection. All he wanted to do was keep adding to it, since he definitely loved it as much as she did.

"Jake," she gasped, pressing herself a little harder against his mouth as he parted her with his lips and teased her opening with his flat tongue. "Jake!"

He chuckled and kissed her inner thigh as he asked, "How do you make it so many syllables like that?" But Jessica tugged on his hair and put his mouth back where she wanted it.

"Stop messing around," she whined. Holy shit, he loved it when she told him what to do. When Jessica bossed him around, it made him want to give his best performance.

"Anything you want, Baby," he promised, and she whined louder until he was sucking gently on her clit. That seemed to be what she was after, so he set a leisurely pace, occasionally going harder until she got loud. Then he ran his knuckle along her opening before slipping his middle finger inside her.

Those heels pressed harder into his back as she demanded, "Harder." Fingers tightened in his hair, sending a ripple of need down along his neck. He plucked her clit with his lips as he added his index finger and hooked them just so.

"Jake!" she called out, absolutely riding his face and fingers now. She tasted so good, and he couldn't stop picturing her stuff in her condo. He was grinding his hips against the bed in time with the tugging of his hair. Her sharp heels were starting to hurt, and he was a little afraid she would rip his uniform shirt, but there was no way he was stopping now.

She was clenching and practically screaming as he swirled his tongue around her sweet spot and fucked his fingers harder into her. He was rock hard against her bedding, and her fingernails scraped along his scalp as she came for him. She was squeezing his fingers and felt so tight around him that he needed to fuck her. He needed that around his cock.

Jake was up on his knees and out of her grasp as her legs splayed wide and her hips shook. Quickly he unzipped his khaki pants and pulled himself free, thrusting his cock into her clenching pussy and patting her clit with his wet fingers. Jessica was rolling her head from side to side as he ground himself into her with her name a low growl on his lips.

"Jessica." He came hard after barely a few thrusts, shocking himself. He wasn't even sure how it happened so fast. But then he looked down at Jessica as his cum seeped out of her and onto the blue lace. Her fingers were in the air coaxing him closer, and he went so willingly to her lips, an absolute mess for this woman.

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

On Monday, Jessica and Jake cuddled all night in her bed, but Tuesday evening after her office hours, they moved things to his place. "Tomorrow is Wednesday, and you've got to teach that asshole's class, Smart Girl," Jake whispered. "I'll pack you some extra snacks in your lunch."

Then he fucked her in her new lingerie until she could barely walk, leaving her in his bed aftwards to relax for a few minutes until she could get up and join him in the shower. And Jessica was relaxed and happy and fresh on Wednesday when she walked into the classroom where she would be in charge of Brian's Senior Studies seminar class.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Reed," she announced when she rushed in as soon as her Physics lecture in the previous time slot ended. "I'll be filling in for Dr. Conley," she said to the group of ten in attendance, unable to keep a smile from her face. "And you're all graduating chemistry majors?"

She had been given just a tiny bit of information on this class from Dean Walters, and she was a little nervous that she wouldn't be able to help as much as she hoped. Then she convinced herself she'd be okay. She passed a bunch of chemistry classes as an undergrad, and she could work her way through any textbook with ease.

"Yeah," replied one of the students as he sat up a little straighter in his seat. "But Dr. Conley usually just takes attendance and then leaves."

She blinked at him for a few seconds and adjusted her glasses. "I'm sorry. What? He leaves?"

"Yeah," another student agreed.

"But aren't you all trying to graduate in May? With top grades to get a job or go to grad school?" she asked as she looked around. She was met with nodding heads and a few blank stares as she set her notebooks down at the front of the small room. "Well..." she started, unsure what she should do. "Let me look at your grades a little closer. Maybe we can work on some things from your classes?" She pulled out her information packet on these students. Indeed two of them did have perfect 4.0 GPAs, but there were a few who could use some help with their grades.

"So are you going to stay?" a third student asked. "Even after you take attendance? And help us?"

Jessica was appalled as she stood there with her hands on her hips. "Yeah. I'm going to stay. And we're going to talk about which classes you might be struggling with? You still have some time left in the semester to bring your grades up."

Just then, the door at the back of the room opened, and Dr. Rosenthal walked in, quietly taking a seat off to the side. "Sorry I'm late," he muttered. "Just pretend I'm not even here."

Great. Jessica's first foray into her tenure being reviewed would be when she wasn't even teaching her own subject with her own students. A flash of panic hit her in the face. Her palms started to sweat. Her trusty high heels suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The snack Jake packed for her was sitting like a brick in her stomach.

"Uh, are there any specific classes or questions in general that I can help you with?" she asked lamely as she wiped her hands on her suit jacket.

"Organic chemistry," a handful groaned in unison, and she supposed that was at least somewhere to start.

"Okay," she said, watching Rosenthal scribble something in his notebook. "Does anyone have that textbook with them? So I can take a look?"

A minute later, she had the chapter in front of her, and everyone had moved their seats a little closer to the board. With some help from the students themselves, she wrote a few problems out. She had to consult the text frequently, and she had to Google something on her phone, but they did manage to solve the first one correctly. She also noticed a text from Jake when she had her phone out.

Hey, Smart Girl. I just know you're killing it right now. Call me after work.

His words made her push through the second problem on the board. And then a third and a fourth. With only a few minutes left in the class, she passed around her red notebook and said, "Please write down your email address. I could pull them from the campus catalog, but that will take too long. I'll email out more Organic Chem problems to work on for next week, and I'll talk to Dr. Snyder and see if he can give me any idea of what he might be focusing on for his final exam, okay? And please email me if you need help with anything specific," she added, writing her own email address on the board.

When she turned around, they were all scribbling it down. And Dr. Rosenthal was smiling up at her; she'd forgotten he was even in the room. A few of the students thanked her as they stood to leave, and she handed the borrowed textbook back. This was going to be a lot more work than she anticipated.

"Well, Dr. Reed," Rosenthal murmured as he stood. "Chemistry is not your subject, is it?" he asked with a chuckle.

She groaned softly. "Was it that obvious? I don't even know any good chemistry jokes."

"Oh, I do," he promised. "I subscribe to the science joke of the day website. I could start forwarding the jokes to you if you'd like?"

She nodded and laughed. "That would be nice, Dr. Rosenthal."

Then she watched him write something in his notebook about forwarding the emails to her, and she realized he really was a very sweet person. But she was afraid that this class would reflect poorly upon her, and she was just about to tell him that when he tucked his pencil behind his ear.

"I thought you did a good job with these students today, especially since you aren't proficient in the subject. I'll be seeing you in your Quantum Mechanics lecture in about an hour or so."

Jessica watched him hustle out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. And sure enough, later that afternoon, Dr. Rosenthal got to see her shine as she taught her favorite class. And Advanced Calculus was there, too, taking her own set of notes. And then Jessica felt a lot better.

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

Jake sat at the Hard Deck on Friday night with a beer in one hand and Bradley sitting next to him. He'd invited Jessica to come, but she told him she had to write down some chemistry problems. Coming from literally any other woman, Jake would have assumed she was lying as a way to dismiss him, but he believed every word she told him.

"Where's Dr. Tits?" he asked Bradley with a smirk as he sipped his beer.

Bradley grunted in response. "Working late. She has a lecture until eight. That's why I'm not staying long tonight. I told her I'd pick her up before nine."

Jake checked the time. It was barely seven. He hadn't been to the Hard Deck in weeks. Maybe months. He'd been spending all of his time with Jessica at Chippy's. He kind of missed that cranky, old man. He also missed being in an environment where he hadn't hooked up with every woman present. As he looked around the bar, he started to get a little uncomfortable.

"Wanna shoot some pool?" Bradley asked him, and Jake got up out of his seat immediately and headed toward the pool table.

"You can break," Jake told him as he watched Bradley rack the balls. He was going to lose anyway, and he didn't even mind. Occasionally he glanced around the room, and it registered to him that if he wasn't dating Jessica, he'd be taking one of these women home with him. "I need something stronger," he murmured. "You want a whiskey or two?"

"Sure," Bradley replied, eyeing him closely. "But just one for me."

"Yeah, alright," Jake told him before turning toward the bar where Penny was working at a blistering pace filling orders. He had to wait a minute to get her attention, but she smiled at him when he said, "Penny, my dear, I'll take three Maker's Marks. Neat."

"Of course," she replied. "You sharing them with Rooster or with... someone else? Or two someone elses?"

Jake's eyes settled on the two younger women who were eyeing him up across the bar. They didn't turn away when he made eye contact, rather they looked even more excited. But two of the whiskeys were meant for him. Maybe to take the edge off of the nerves he was feeling being out for the night without his girlfriend.

"Nah," Jake told her as she poured. "Just ol' Rooster."

She winked at him as she added them to his tab. "Enjoy."

He wanted to enjoy his drinks. He planned to. He carried the three glasses back to the pool table with every intention of downing two of them and giving the third to Bradley. But he could tell he was being followed now, so he stepped through the crowd a little faster to reach his destination.

Jake was handing a glass to Bradley when he knew it was too late. "Hey, fellas," said the first girl who had the fucking nerve to even look a bit like Jessica. "Can we join you?"

"We always wanted to learn how to play pool," chimed in the second one who was barely wearing any clothing.

"I'm married," Bradley told them blandly, holding up his left and barely looking at them before he lined up a really nice shot. "And my wife is hot. And I'm not interested. You're up, Hangman."

"Are you married?" the first one asked Jake as he downed both drinks, one after the other.

He looked at her and backed away a few inches. "Well, no."

"Teach us how to play pool?" she whined, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

And it suddenly occurred to Jake that he had never turned a woman down before in his life. He'd never had to. He'd always been game. Sure, he'd been shot down himself on occasion, but this wasn't something he was used to doing at all. He turned to Bradley for help, but just got a disappointed look in return the longer he waffled. And Jake already felt like he had failed his girlfriend.

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

Jessica was sitting on her bed examining Jake's birthday gift that arrived in the mail earlier. It was perfect. She giggled and kicked her feet, knowing exactly where he should hang it at his place. She was carefully putting it in the frame and attaching the back when her phone rang.

"Jake!" she gushed answering his call. It was after ten o'clock now, and she was exhausted from all the extra work involved with taking Brian's class and actually doing something to help his students. "How was the bar?"

"I miss you, Jess," he drawled, a harsh edge coming through in his voice. "Can I... can I come over?"

"Yes," she told him right away. "Come over."

"Okay." Then the call went silent. He didn't sound like himself, and Jessica became a little concerned as she packed up all of the chemistry notes that were littering her bed. She put Jake's birthday gift in a box in her closet, and then slipped her robe over her silk nightgown.

When Jake knocked just a few minutes later, she was surprised he was already there. She was going to have to copy a key so he could just let himself in going forward, but her mind went blank when she opened the door. He looked a little drunk. He smelled a bit drunk. She wondered if he drove himself over, and that thought made her stomach lurch as he walked inside and locked the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly as he collected her in his arms and started toward the bedroom.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Just needed you."

He needed her. She let him kick off his shoes and remove about half of his clothing, and then he was reaching for her again. Jake snuggled next to her in bed and fell asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

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Jake. Don't be a fuckboy. We trusted you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 18

@blahehblah

@sotalife

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goldenroutledge · 1 year

Text

next to you

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x reader

word count ⤜ 1.1k

summary ⤜ mornings with your husband, rafe.

warning(s) ⤜ this work contains a MAJOR season three spoiler! but other than that just fluff? might be on the hurt/comfort side just a smidge

a/n ⤜ he looks so BOYFRIEND in this outfit! i’ve been having so much writer’s block i haven’t written in a year at least, but my babygirl mila @msgorillagripcoochie inspired me with this idea <3 this isn’t canon rafe btw literally none of my work is canon compliant

rafe cameron masterlist

Steam fogged the mirrors of the en-suite bathroom, slowly dissipating with the cooler air being let in from the bedroom. White towel hanging around his hips, Rafe sat at the edge of the bed you shared, staring down the vast space of the walk-in closet.

Fidgeting with the ring on his finger, nerves coursed through his body, and it was in times like these that he remembered the days of drinking scotch before 11am. But that was a thing of the past, he reminded himself just as quickly as the thought popped into his mind.

Today he was meeting with an old teacher from his alma mater, who grew to be one of his favorites. Probably his only favorite.

Rafe was never a scholar or anything, something Ward didn’t allow him to forget. He just learned differently, from someone like Sarah who could barely show up to school three times a week and still pass every exam.

It wasn’t until Rafe found himself with a 67% in his social studies class and less than a month left in the semester to turn his grade around that he was forced to attend office hours.

The first day was embarrassing. He felt like an idiot in the first place, seeing as his horrible grades pretty much spoke for themselves. But even more so now that he had to stay longer at school because he was an idiot.

Rafe stayed silent for the most part. Letting the professor do most of the talking, letting him know which assignments and topics he needed to perform well on to end the class with a passing grade.

It wasn’t until that Friday, his professor knocked some sense into him.

« “You know you’ll never learn anything if you don’t ask questions, right?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of sitting prisoner in the chair of his teacher’s office. “What do you want me to ask?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t have questions.” He lied unconvincingly.

“Every time I teach you, Rafe, I can see the gears turning in your head. You’re a smart kid. But I can’t help you excel if you don’t engage. I get it, alright. I felt stupid asking a bunch of questions in front of everyone in school too but I need you to be receptive. Help me help you, Mr. Cameron.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. We can start with assigning you a peer tutor.”

Rafe wanted to laugh. Or cry, he wasn’t sure. The whole thing was just ridiculous to him at this point.

“She’ll be someone you can talk with about the material, ask questions to, someone you can trust to help you get back on track. Are you familiar with Y/n Y/ln?” »

Little did he know, Mr. Murphy would be getting the boot by the school board. Something about budget cuts, as if the kook parents of the island didn’t give enough donations to the school to keep the water fountains at a perfectly cold temperature.

Not because their books were falling apart or because their desks were chipping. Because people are selfish, and the new headmistress of the academy felt like the money could be better spent remodeling her office. It was laughable, really.

Today, that professor was back on the island, and reached out to Rafe to meet with him following the news of Ward’s death. Not that he mentioned that specifically in his email, though it was mostly implied that he’d wanted to check up on Rafe after everything.

And with all the questions he’d probably be asked today during this lunch with his old mentor, all he could ponder over was what he was going to wear. Perhaps it was a method of procrastination, to get his mind off of everything else.

Rafe sighed. “Y/n?”

At hearing his voice echoing through the house, you slid your bookmark in between the pages and followed his voice upstairs into your shared bedroom.

“You called?”

“I need your help.”

Your eyebrows raised involuntarily at the sight before you; no matter how many times you’d seen Rafe almost naked (and actually naked), he never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Help getting dressed?”

He nods, confirming that you’re always good at reading his mind. “Dress me, please?”

You chuckled, pulling some articles of clothing from the hangers and drawers. It was just lunch, so it wasn’t like he needed anything too business-y. His striped blue and orange shirt had always been one of your favorites, though he seemed to look good in almost anything.

You threw a pair of boxers over to him, keeping your back turned as you still rummaged through the closet. No matter how irresistible he was, there wasn’t any time for funny business this morning.

“There’s no need to be nervous, y’know. Mr. Murphy has always liked you.”

How do you always know what he’s thinking, damnit. “Yeah. I guess.”

He pulled the striped shirt over his head while you found pants for him to wear.

“Just don’t want him to think I’m still the same loser I was back then.”

“You’ve never been a loser, Rafe.”

“Maybe not in your eyes.” His lips stretched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put on the pants you picked for him, sitting back down to look up at you.

“Definitely not in my eyes.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so his head rested on your stomach. The tips of your fingernails lightly scratched the back of his neck as you embraced.

“Do you remember the science fair? Freshman year?”

Rafe hummed in response. “Ward thought it was stupid. I asked him to come and he didn’t. Said he would be too embarrassed when I lost.”

“And then what happened? You won the whole damn thing.”

“I won the whole damn thing.” He smiled against your skin, repeating your words softly.

“You’ve never been a loser.”

Kneeling down, you placed your hands on his thighs, and gave him a sweet kiss.

“You’ve already accomplished so much.” You affirmed, reminding him of the businesses he had taken over since Ward died. Still, Rafe was unsure if he could rise to the occasion.

You took the ends of his jeans and cuffed them, knowing he’s terrible at doing it himself. They always come out uneven. And conveniently enough, he likes spending these quiet moments together. Neither of you would trade them for anything.

“I married you.” He cooed, taking your left hand in his and letting his thumb glide across the ring on your finger. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“That it was.” You cheesed, letting him pull you up to straddle him. “Next time you think you’re not accomplished, Rafey…” You peppered soft kisses to his jawline. “Remember that you’ve got me.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneylaneylaney @jjpouggues @pogueslandia @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @amourology @luversgirl + rafe cameron taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @chrisevansfuturewife @drewstarkeysbitchh @littlementalpolaroids @destourtereaux @kookkyra @iammirrorball

it’s been a while since i’ve posted writing so if anyone wants to be removed from/added to the taglist please don’t hesitate to let me know! 💌

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #outer banks fic

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piratefishmama · 8 months

Text

Fake it Till you Make It | Part 13

“Buckley residence”

“Melissa, my second favourite Buckley! Hi, it’s Steve, is Robin there?”

“Oh Steve! Yes, yes one moment, I’ll just—weren’t you on holiday with your parents aaaand—?” he’d been calling Eddie his ‘partner’ for the week leading up to the big holiday. Never dropping any names, but given he’d found a sort of second home at the Buckleys… they were relentless in finding out who he was dating.

Since it’d never be Robin.

He wasn’t falling for it, no matter how deep they’d been into flower power back in the day. If he came out, Robin would end up coming out in solidarity and he knew she wasn’t ready yet so—“Yep, calling from Chicago airport, bit of a time sensitive call” he wasn’t giving it up.

“Oop, I’ll grab her—” there was a scuffle on the line then a quick “ROBIN, STEVE’S ON THE PHONE” another quick scuffle later and suddenly

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane right now, Dingus?”

“I’m in Chicago! Just checkin in on my baaaaaby, how’s my little bun today? Any morning sickness yet?”

“Robin!!”

“Mom get off the phone!!”

“Hahaha I’m kidding Melissa! Can I talk to Robbie alone though?”

“Unbelievable, you kids are turning me grey.”

“You’re as beautiful as ever though!” The other line clicked off, and Robin’s snickering laughter was all that remained. “One day she’s gonna stay on just to call my bluff.”

“But that is not today, again, aren’t you supposed to be on a plane? What’s up?”

“…Okay so, hypothetically, if you were fake dating someone you… I dunno… maybe, sorta… click really well with, can laugh with, and maybe sorta like a little, would you—”

“Steven Leopold Harrington do you have a crush on your boyfriend?”

“Fake, fake boyfriend, Robbie, fake. And that isn’t my middle name.”

“You’re not DENYING it! It's not even been a DAY yet, Steve!”

“No, I’m not—well… I’d call it more an interest than a crush, but that’s why I’m calling you, what would you do?”

“Pine uselessly for years, you know this.”

“Got it, pine uselessly” He could do that. He was doing that already, sort of. He’d watched in squinty eyed rage while a newsstand cashier with a nose ring flirted with his fake boyfriend while he grabbed a drink to down during the wait between flights. It didn’t go anywhere, Eddie barely even noticed, but Steve noticed. Steve noticed everything. “You really should ask Vi—”

“NO. Listen Steve, as the kids would say, you have found an ‘ultimate cheat code’ to asking your crush out, listen closely now, don’t want you to miss it… you’re already dating him!”

“It’s fake though!” Luckily his parents were off showing Eddie a cool mural they found last time they flew through. No chance of them hearing him.

“So?! Just act like it’s real! It’s like a test, you have a week to see if you’re actually growing ooey gooeys for this guy, and at the end of it, you’ll know if you wanna keep him.” Brilliant in theory but one small hiccup

“What if he doesn’t want me at the end of the week?” The fact that he hadn’t had a solid date in forever before the scheme looming over his head and heart like a dark cloud of suffering.

“I will eat my own shoe. Trust me dingus, trust me. He’ll want you, just work that mysterious Harrington Charm I’ve heard so much about. You’re already half-way there, you get to kiss him already.”

“…Okay, it’s gotta be the real stinker shoe though, you know the one.”

“The skunk one?!”

“Yep. The skunk one.”

“But we were gonna use that on—” Kevin, they were gonna hide it in Kevin’s office after he refused every holiday request Robin put in for a month after she, very politely, shot him and his advances down, why they still had it was… a mystery. They kept forgetting to get rid of it. “Fine, the skunk one. I will eat the skunk shoe, that is how confident I am that Eddie will want you, now please go and spend time with your way cooler than you boyfriend before your parents turn him into a normie.”

“Miss you already.”

“Miss you more”

“Miss you most.”

“Hang up.”

“No you han—” she hung up, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh about it knowing that undoubtedly. She’d be laughing on her end too.

The second flight was much easier to get Eddie onto. In fact, after they spent the hour between flights milling around the terminal, Eddie led him down the gangway, hand in hand, demanding he hurry up or “they’ll leave without us, my precious little harlot!!” there was no rush, they were actually first in line at the gate in front of his own parents, whom Eddie beat to the front of the queue, dragging Steve with him, still ribbing him for the mile high club thing.

He was not going to live that down any time soon.

The flight, in theory would give him a lot of time to think though. Nine hours. In seats that were too far apart. His parents in the middle of the cabin in a semi-enclosed pod-like structure comprised of two seats and a desk between them which they both shared to work on some paperwork, and he and Eddie on opposite sides of the plane.

Which sucked. Because he couldn’t hold Eddie’s hand.

He couldn’t make sure Eddie was okay, and that alone really dug into his time to think about things, because his brain was quite stuck on the fact that Eddie was alone on the other side of the cabin likely going through it as the second flight excitement could only last so long, and that just wasn’t okay.

Eddie couldn’t even do anything to pass the time, he’d packed all but one of his notebooks in his checked luggage, Steve was pretty damn sure he'd go insane if he had to just sit there with nothing to do for a whole nine hours.

So, they teamed up. From opposite sides of the cabin, because somehow Eddie just understood what Steve wanted him to do without having to be told.

It took them a joint effort all of one hour into the flight to puppy-dog eye his parents into switching seats with them.

This allowed them to pick at each other’s ‘gourmet’ meals, Eddie stealing several of his steak fries, and Steve stealing both the last bite of his steak, and two of his orange slices, it allowed Eddie to ramble on about the D&D campaign he was plotting to send the kids through when they got back, allowed Steve to subtly plant the idea into Eddie's mind that maybe... maybe he might be interested in seeing what that looked like.

Maybe they could hold the first session at his place when his parents went away again. Plenty of room! He could watch for once, instead of ribbing Dustin for it and purposefully never getting the name of the game right.

All leading to them both settling in their reclining seats, wrapped up in blankets, facing each other's smiling faces, and falling into an incredibly easy food-coma slumber for the remainder of their flight.

Both wishing the seats were just... a little closer.

Part 15

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #do not question my airline knowledge #i have none #i'm winging it #lmao winging it... cause planes? anyway #and i dont wanna know if i'm wrong #so shhhhhhhhhhh i'm right because i say i am

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rewh0re · 5 months

Text

THE SOULMATE THEORY ; MIKAGE REO

- wc: 1.1k, aged up characters (like 19-20) doesn't dive into explicit/hardcore smut but is definitely suggestive in some parts so I'd say readers 16 and above may read this, indirect mentions of sexual activities, fluff, reader is called a minx (affectionate), a little bit of that one old greek myth about soulmates, it's true that once you use em dash you can't stop.

a/n: literally got the idea at the doctor's office don't even. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!! also tagging: @chigirizzz (this is that one reo fic I was telling you about where you asked me to tag you)

The room was dark. The only source of light—though bright but not enough to light up the whole room—was from the digital clock on the bedside table. '12:42,’ it read in bright neon red numbers. It was also quiet, so much so that two pairs of steady breathings could be heard.

One belonged to Reo and the other, to you.

"Are you asleep?" You whisper—soft and delicate—careful as to not wake your lover up if he indeed was asleep but loud enough to let him know of your own sleepless state.

Your eyes have been long adjusted to the darkness and you can make out the silhouette of his face. The length of his nose and his eyelashes, the slight part of his lush lips, his sharp and angular jaw—truly—he was majestic.

"No," his eyes fluttered open and his lips turned upward. His smile, the gentleness of which never failed to make your heart beat ten times faster, which never failed to make your stomach feel all giddy with the butterflies that erupted.

"I was thinking about your face from earlier and the various sounds you made too actually. Sweet as honey to me but I'm afraid Mrs. Tanaka might complain come morning," gentle tone was overruled by mischief. That was Mikage Reo, a gem of a person for a second and a force to be reckoned with the next.

"Please don't oh my god," you covered your face—now tinted with embarrassment—with the comforter you and Reo shared as you whined in protest.

The activities from an hour back rushing into your brain, playing like a movie sequence. As foggy as your mind was earlier, you were surprised that you remembered everything so vividly. You could still feel his rough, calloused and much larger hands tracing every curve of your body as if to memorise its shape. You could feel the lingering kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest, the now purple marks left with pride. You would have to cover them before work in the morning. You could hear your own sounds of pleasure and his groans as if to say more, more, more. You could feel it all. You could feel him. Your face flushed a deeper shade of fuchsia as you gulped, trying to get the images out of your head.

"You act like we haven't done this a million times before my love," he laughed slowly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"Come on, look at me. Don't shy away now," he pulled the blanket off of you, removing your hands from your face as he hugged you.

"You're incorrigible, you know that right?" You huffed out in faux annoyance, snuggling against his chest, his arms a veil for your figure.

He laughed then, a laugh full of mischief and adoration and something akin to acknowledgement for your previous statement.

You laid like that, in silence. There was peace that came with the soft lub-dub of your synchronised heartbeats and your gentle breaths.

You were the one to break it first.

"Have you ever heard about that one Greek mythology? about soulmates?" You spoke, your cool fingers tracing gentle and soothing shapes on Reo's bare back which was painted with scratches from your nails.

"Can't say I have. Care to tell me?" He looked for your eyes as he pulled up the slipping comforter before pulling you closer to his chest. His warmth engulfed you whole, a comfortable shield from the much cooler surroundings.

"Well there is this theory," you started, face softening into affection as you laid against Reo's—albeit hard—but comfortable chest.

"It says that when Zeus created humans, he originally created them with two of everything. So two heads, two pairs of both the limbs, you get it. Their souls were one too. Fearing the power that these humans could possess, Zeus split them, including their souls, in half and scattered them around the world. The humans—as we now know them to be—would search far and wide, across oceans and lands to look for their other half. It is said that this other half is your soulmate and you search for them throughout your life," you smiled as you looked up at him, engrossed in your little story.

"Well that's just cruel of Zeus now, isn't it? I mean, what if someone doesn't find their soulmate?" Reo pouted and that made you chuckle a little.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is just a story at the end of the day and how you decide to perceive a story totally depends on you," you jabbed his chest with your finger.

"I think I've found my other half," he stated with pride.

"Oh? Is that so? I wonder who it could be," you made a face as if you were thinking, tapping your chin with your forefinger.

"Oh I bet you do," in an instant your boyfriend was hugging you tighter than ever, his face buried in the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

His soft kisses were ticklish and they made you giggle. Your fingers further messed up his already tousled hair.

"You want me to say it out loud so bad don't you, you little minx," he whispered in your neck as you hummed in response.

"I think I've found my soulmate in you."

"I also think I've found mine in you Reo," your gentle voice was like ambrosia to his ears. He could drown in it, a bit was never enough.

He trailed kisses down the side of your face, starting from your ear, going down your jaw and finally a little bite on your neck. He licked on it in order to soothe the area. A new addition to the marks he had left earlier.

"Ow Reo!" You playfully smacked his head which forced him to separate from your neck.

"I already have enough marks to cover!" You puffed your cheek, barely hiding the smile that was begging to come up to the surface.

"You'll beg for them again tomorrow," he winked at you.

You could only roll your eyes. What would you even say? Deep in your heart, even you knew that he was right. "What is wrong with you?"

"Just that I'm irrevocably in love with you," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, shutting his eyes.

"Unfortunately, I happen to love you too."

Teasing glances from your coworkers and friends due to the remnants from the events of the night would be a concern for later. For now, sleep would come easy to you because here you were, with Reo, in his arms. He was your safe haven and you were his and truly, whatever in the world could ever change that?

#—storytelling🌙#bllk #blue lock #bllk reo #mikage reo #blue lock reo #reo x reader #mikage reo fluff #reo fluff #mikage reo x reader #reo x you #mikage reo x you #reo x y/n #mikage reo x y/n #reo imagine #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months

Note

i watched spto and i'm down bad for matthew patel now so uh- can i request platonic matthew patel x reader where reader works at gman media and they become friends with him after he realizes just how out of his depth running the place and just like breaks down to the nearest person that he has no idea what he's doing?

Oufh I gotta admit the same thing-

......

Being a custodian at G-Man Media certainly wasn't the job you hoped for, but at least it was a job that paid well...better than anything McDonalds could have provided.

And of course, that's only because it used to be run by gazillionaire Gideon Graves.

Yes. Used to.

There was a huge change in management that literally happened overnight--as your boss was defeated in battle by Matthew Patel, and he became the CEO of pretty much everything the former had.

The two record labels, fourteen animal shelters, movie studio, etc. etc. were now all his for the taking.

Never in a million years would you imagine that this theater-obsessed punk who was Ramona's first evil ex-boyfriend would be able to overthrow the G-Man himself.....and yet he won.

Of course, the aforementioned battle they had resulted in some serious damages and a lot of repairs having to be done in several rooms and floors. But if anything you were just relieved Matthew chose to disband the League of Evil Exes. You didn't have to clean up all their messes or fix anything Luke, Todd, or the twins' robot might have broken.

Even better was that Gideon wasn't around to nitpick at every little thing anymore.

That was a huge upside for you.

On the downside, however...your new boss was somehow both better and worse than him.

Matthew was thrown into such a tough role so quickly, and while he seemingly had everything under control with his demon hipster chicks becoming his agents.....sometimes he just looked lost.

Sure, he seemed to like shouting out orders and getting escorts in fancy helicopters, but when it came down to actual business stuff, he kept asking his employees about different things--even painfully obvious things.

You've never talked to him much even before this, although you usually keep to yourself and don't really speak unless spoken to. But you can tell he's struggling to maintain his image.

Still, you don't wanna say anything that might anger him or get you fired.

And besides, he had mystical powers that were ten times cooler than anything Gideon ever had, so pissing him off would be most unwise.

.......

It's late in the evening when you're heading to your final stop before getting to go home: Matthew's office.

He didn't say anything in particular had to be repaired, although you figured there was no harm in double-checking things. For all you know, the TV's wiring might need to be fixed or a screw in the table might've come loose.

Hopefully he didn't mind. You're usually in and out of there by the time he returns from whatever business trip he attended.

Yet upon entering his office, you stood in your tracks upon seeing that he was there, sitting all alone....apparently brooding and monologuing to himself. You were used to seeing him doing that sort of thing.

But this time something seemed...off.

Even his demon agents were concerned and looked grateful you showed up, immediately stepping aside so you could walk in further, hearing his mumbling become more coherent.

"What am I doing with my life? This isn't what I went to college for..."

"Mr. Patel, sir?" You called out cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"....no, actually. Everything is NOT okay!" Slamming his hands onto the table, he stared up at you from across the table, taking a moment to identify you. You could see how exhausted and bloodshot his eyes were, along with his eyeliner looking more smudged. "You're the custodian, right...[y/n], was it?"

You blinked, surprised he remembered your name. "Correct. I was just-"

"Look, [y/n]..I've been feeling really awful lately and I just need to....get some stuff off my chest. And since you're the only one here right now, you get to listen to me." He then pointed to a chair near him. "Sit, and don't you dare tell anyone what we've discussed, capiche?"

Even though the clock was ticking close to the time you went home, concern over your boss' mental stability took priority over everything else at that moment. So you listened to his demand and took a seat, remaining silent and patient.

As Matthew slumped back into his chair, his whole expression shifted into one of sadness, as though he just lost his best friend. "I'm....not cut out for this job..." He confessed. "This isn't what I envisioned myself doing."

"I imagine it's been difficult. But for the record, you've only been doing this for-"

"I've already lost this company billions of dollars."

You blinked. "Billions, sir?"

"Yes, billions! You know, I-I only defeated Gideon Graves in battle because he would have taken my life if he won. And for a while it felt good to have all of his fame and fortune.......but now it....i-it just sucks! The paperwork never stops, I can barely catch a break, I don't know any of the computer passwords, and I don't even like wearing this stupid suit!!" Laying his head on the table, he banged his fist against it, choking back tears. "I'm a theater major..not a business major, damn it!"

'Poor Matthew..' You frowned slightly. "If all of this is so overwhelming, maybe you could-"

"No." He quickly sat up, his face darkening with a deep scowl. "I am NOT giving anything back to that lying scumbag! Besides, we have a legally binding contract that states all his properties are mine! That means permanently! Forever!"

"My apologies, sir..i-it was only a suggestion." You put your hands up, feeling tense especially as his demons were now frowning at you. "I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately...and there's no shame in admitting that."

Matthew blinked. "You've noticed?"

"I have." You nodded. "I mean..a lot of people go to college for one thing and suddenly wind up in an entirely different field. I know my opinion may not matter much, but...I think you're doing a great job despite your lack of experience."

He shrunk back, no longer looking angry but rather...guilty?

"Thank you.." He sighed. "I'm sorry for never saying this, but you've been a huge help cleaning up after all our messes when we had the League of Evil Exes. So..you better give yourself a little credit, too."

Now it was your turn to be flattered, as you smiled and chuckled. "Thank you, Mr. Patel. I appreciate that."

"Uh-huh..and there's something else, too.."

"And what would that be?"

"....I only refuse to throw in the towel because this company can give me the funds necessary to make the Scott Pilgrim musical a reality." He confessed.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "A musical based off of that guy you killed?"

"Yes. But apparently he's alive. Ramona told me."

"....I see-"

"BUT as soon as the production takes off, I may or may not return some of Gideon's empire to him. I'm sure that asshole is scheming to reclaim it as we speak..." He grumbled, his attitude turning sour again.

You thought about what you could say to cheer him up without patronizing him...but fortunately that wasn't too hard to figure out.

"I wouldn't worry about him. May I ask who you'll be starring as in the musical?" You rested your arms on the table, smirking as you saw the way Matthew's eyes lit up.

"Why, of course!" With a wide grin, he jumped up onto the table, dramatically posing. "I will be the main character: Scott Pilgrim!! I vow to delight and entertain people everywhere!" He laughed, before he stopped and stared down at you. "[Y/n], may I show you a presentation of my many one-man shows? They've all prepared me for this moment and I'd love your opinion on them."

"Sure." Shrugging, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. "I'm getting paid overtime for this, right?"

His face fell flat. "...I'm supposed to give you guys overtime?"

"Well...Gideon never did, but--nevermind." You shook your head. "You can roll the footage."

His grin returned as he snapped his fingers, causing the room to darken and the TV to come to life, showing off one of his many recorded performances.

It was a two hour long video, but entertaining nonetheless. You recognized a lot of the songs and were impressed by all his method acting.

It's no wonder he made such a convincing CEO.

After that, he finally allowed you to go home with a promise to give you overtime....although not before he exchanged phone numbers with you as thanks for being his unofficial therapist for the day.

He claims it's so he can update you on the musical's progress and "other business stuff", as he put it.

But he kept calling you on your days off to talk, insisting you referred to him as Matthew instead. "Mr. Patel" was slowly starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

You didn't mind it, though.

At this point, you accepted the fact that you became your boss' first (and possibly only) friend.

Maybe after he surrenders the G-Man empire for good, that friendship can continue.

#clanask #anonymous #scott pilgrim x reader #scott pilgrim takes off x reader #spto x reader #matthew patel #matthew patel x reader #platonic

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 1 month

Text

Infinite Solutions - 1

PAIRINGS: Law!Professor!Andy Barber x Math!Professor!Reader

SUMMARY: MIT is famously known for its high level of education. What happens if it's not only filled with knowledge? What if it is also filled with confusion? Confusion of a new, hard-working Mathematics professor? A professor who might be falling in love with her fellow co-worker? What if that co-worker was in the Law faculty? What if that Law professor is Andrew "Andy" Barber?

WARNINGS: Swearing (if you squint).

WORD COUNT: 1,905

ENJOY!

"Shit!" You feel the puddle soak your new, expensive black slacks. Swearing at your recklessness, you ignore the mishap and continue to walk on the cobblestone. The Massachusetts chill is cooler than usual, and that’s why you have your coffee in hand. The sip you take instantly warms and floods your entire being with comfort.

You see students sitting on the lawn with textbooks and papers surrounding them like an iron fence; you lightly smile at the reminder of how you were in their exact position and place when you were in your undergrad.

MIT is filled to the brim with students as they walk to their respective classes. You see the building of your destination, and you trek towards it. The feeling of your wet pant leg sticking to your skin is something that you were not really into, but at this point, you really don’t care. You were going to be late if you pay any more attention to that mistake.

You push open the doors and walk in and make your way to an office you used to frequent back in your young adulthood.

-------

"I must say, that when I got your application, I was quite shocked," Schmidt says from his seat with a light smile on his face. You give him one of your downwards smiles, “I can assure you, Mr. Schmidt, sending my application in was something I thought I never had to do. I mean, it was an arbitrary decision; I wasn’t really thinking about it when I sent it in.”

He laughs at your response before taking a sip from his coffee. "And please, call me Tobias," the German mathematician replies kindly before gathering some papers on his desk and standing, and you follow suit. "Let me show you to your office; I heard it has one of the greatest views," he opens the door and lets you go ahead first.

The halls of the building were old and gave you some sort of idea of how much mathematical knowledge has soaked into its walls over the years. You used to walk these halls all the time, use some of their empty classrooms all alone, and solve the most complex problems on their blackboards.

Now, you’re here walking beside your boss, the Dean. But in a previous life, that was your bachelor's, he was your first-year Multivariable Calculus professor.

The little journey to your new workspace isn’t long, but it consisted of you and Tobias chatting in the first half. “If I may, may I ask what happened over there,” he points at the wet splotch on your pant leg. You shake your head and wave him off, “a long story you do not want to listen to, I assure you.” The rest of the walk is just the two of you recollecting about your time back when you were an undergrad.

“You used to send emails at 3 am,” he says with a throaty chuckle. You widen your eyes as you remember what type of student you were. “Oh dear, I did, didn’t I?” You both share a laugh until he stops in front of a dark oak door.

"Well, here we are," he smiles warmly and unlocks the door with a key before handing it to you. You nod your thanks and follow him inside when he opens the door.

When he mentioned that the view was going to be gorgeous, you thought he was overstating it. But now that you are here, and you are looking out of the window with your eyes. You are stunned.

“And I know how much you love the blackboards, so I recommended them to book this office, specifically, for you,” he states before setting the papers he’s carrying on the, your, desk.

You look at him confused, then see the blackboard attached to the wall opposite your window. God, you think you could die at ease now. Your desk sits in the space between the window and the blackboard.

There are metal drawers at two corners of the room, and lamps situated on top of them illuminating the room in a decent glow. “This—” you scoff shockingly, “this is amazing, it’s literally more than I could ask for.” The 50-something man chuckles and smiles at your reaction. “Welcome to the School of Mathematics, Professor.”

-------

You type furiously at your keyboard, the monitor taking in your input as you type the last of the lecture notes for week 5. Finally, you click on the period.

Sighing, you lean back and stretch your arms. Your back tenses as you finally straighten your posture from the hunched position you were in.

The clock above your door shows that it's half to midnight. You do a few finishing touches to your notes before posting it on the website so the keener few of the students can get their studying done.

At the end of it all, you shut down your desktop and get your stuff packed. Your phone pings as you receive messages from friends and family congratulating you and liking your post on Instagram.

The picture you posted was of the view you had from your desk, and it really was Pinterest-worthy, so you decided why not and post it on social media.

You leave your office and lock it before exiting the building and returning to the Cambridge chilling weather.

-------

You're nervous.

Really, really nervous.

It’s the first day of classes, and students are already starting to file in. You thought there would only be a handful at your 8 AM class, but here you are, seeing that the whole class is full.

The hand on your watch strikes 8 AM, and you look up and see all the different types of students waiting for you to start the class.

Taking in a deep breath, you adjust the microphone that’s clipped on your navy silk blouse and switch it on. Then you rub your hands together before walking to stand in front of the blackboard.

“Morning everyone!” You start with a bright smile on your face. “I’ll be your professor for this unit, for this semester.” You tell the class your name and what title you prefer to be called. “You really don’t have to call me Professor; you can call me by my first name. I’m not that much of a pain in the ass,” the majority of the class chuckles at your swearing.

“Welcome to Multivariable Calculus (ADVANCED),” your grin widens, and you rub your hands down your thighs. “It really isn’t for the faint-hearted,” you state with a slightly serious expression.

“But you can push through if you put in the hard work. Mathematics is a beautiful subject; it’s one of the few technical subjects where you can actually express your creativity and think in so many different ways to come to one answer,” you talk with your hands as you talk about the subject you're most passionate about.

“So, really do not be scared. Just put in the hard work, and if you do feel like you're falling behind, please, please, please contact me or the TAs that are assigned to this unit. We are here to help you with any mathematical problems you have,” you smile reassuringly, and you smile even wider when you see some of the students nod at your words.

“Alright, before we get started, do any of you have any questions about the unit or in general?” you ask before crossing your arms and adjusting the microphone a bit.

A lanky, you assume, first-year student raises his arm immediately after you asked that question. You look at him with a smile. “Yes?”

“Um, you are—” he says your full name in a questioning tone, as though waiting for you to correct him. You furrow your brows a bit but maintain a small smile. “Uh, yeah, that would be me.”

His eyes brighten a bit, and he asks a follow-up question. “You worked for NASA for three years, right? You were the main mathematician that calculated the landing trajectory and coordinates of the latest Mars rover.”

You are speechless; you thought that you’d be able to leave that life of yours behind you. “Uh, yeah, th-that’s true,” you answer with a pursed smile.

“Alright, any other questions?” you pointedly try not to look at the same student, and no one raises their hand. You clap your hands. “Alright, let's get started.”

-------

You look at your watch and see that two hours have gone by quickly. “Alright, I think I must wrap up in a minute. So, just a few late things,” you pause and look back at everyone and face your back to the used blackboard.

“Please do the practice questions; they really are helpful. And if you do have any questions, please either email me or any of the TAs, and we will reply. Just give us at least twenty-four hours to reply,” you smile and cross your arms.

“Ok, I think that’ll be it for today. Have a good one, y’all,” you nod and smile as you see your students start to flood out of the lecture theatre.

A few students line up to ask you a few questions about today's content, and you happily answer them and make sure that your explanations are detailed and clear for them to understand.

Soon, you are packing your stuff and wiping your writings off the blackboard. You switch off all the electronics, then finally the lights, before walking out of the classroom.

-------

It’s the end of the workday; you taught a total of three classes. And for each of them, you were equally enthusiastic about enlightening the minds of everyone present in the room with you.

You do your final routine of closing your office. You are quite happy with how today turned out; a few students took advantage of your office hours and asked you a lot of advanced questions, which tickled your brain in a really fun way.

You finally lock the door of your office and adjust the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder.

You exit the building and head down the stairs. As you do, you hear someone call out your name.

You stop in your tracks as you sort of recognize the voice. You turn and see a 6’3 man jogging to catch up to you. His hair is the same since you first met him, his beard is much fuller, and his eyes. His eyes have always been the bluest you’ve ever seen.

But he's broader, stronger, and much taller.

“Oh gosh, it really is you, Hey! I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, you look different, but the same,” he chuckles as he pulls you into a hug. You hug him back, but you’re still in shock.

It’s been years since you both have seen the other.

“God, the last time I saw you, you were on TV,” he scoffs and laughs at the same time. “You were wearing the NASA uniform and giving that speech about your work,” he smiles at you so brightly; you think it’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.

When did he get so handsome?

You just nod to whatever he’s saying; you seriously don’t think you can speak right now.

“How are you?” he smiles, gripping harder onto his briefcase as he waits for you to answer. And you smile.

“I’m well, Andy.”

🎀🎀🎀

TAGLIST <3: @sarahdonald87 , @yiiiikesmish , @jamneuromain

Here we are babes, with the first chapter of Infinite Solutions.

Took a while, but we made it. 😌😌😌

Again, if you want to be tagged, please comment so I can keep a list my loves.🤗🤗🤗

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans characters #andy barber angst #andy barber au #andy barber fic #andy barber x f!reader

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