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bratdesire · 3 years

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Your Dad, My Daddy

Pairing: Ukai Keishin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap, older man/younger woman, barely legal, squirting, rough sex, daddy kink, alcohol mention, questionable ethics, d/s dynamics, overstimulation, degrading language, touch of subspace, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight dubcon if you squint but it’s all consensual, Ukai’s dick is pierced, exhibitionism(?)

Genre: Smut, just so much smut

Word count: 9.4k

Author’s note: Here is my contribution to the new HQHQ collab!! You can find the masterlist right here! Big big thank you to @sempiternal-amour and @inaflashimagine for beta-ing this monster fic, ilysm <3 This is so incredibly self-indulgent, I even inserted my nickname ~for spice~. Anyways, enjoy my incoherent screaming uwu

Summary: When you go over to your friend’s house for a study session you don’t anticipate meeting her very attractive father, and you surely don’t anticipate the very same man fucking you over their couch.

“Hey, I apologize in advance for anything weird my dad says or does. You know how dads are,” Hitomi explains as she pulls into the driveway of her house.

It’s small but nice and well-manicured, situated in the cul de sac of a middle-class suburb.

“Dad, we’re here,” she shouts up the stairs, setting her keys on the small table next to the front door. Hitomi’s gaze drifts to the tall, dark haired man sitting at the kitchen table and your own gaze soon follows. “Oh, there you are.”

She quickly pecks the man on his cheek before walking over to the shiny silver fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Dad, this is Bunny, Bunny this is Dad,” she gestures between the two of you.

When her father glances up from his phone to give you a nod of acknowledgement, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is.

You can tell from the slight wrinkles around his lips and the crinkles by his eyes that he’s definitely a much older man, but other than that he’s flawless. The angle of his jaw is sharp but soft, lower face darkened by his five o’clock shadow. His chocolate brown eyes are complemented by plump, pink lips that would look even better swollen and shiny with saliva. Dark, shiny locks are gathered into a low ponytail and you wonder how they would feel fisted in your fingers. He’s gorgeous in a rugged, mature way that boys your age aren’t and could never hope to be.

Hitomi never told you her dad was hot but then again, why would she?

“Mr. Ukai, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet him.

He waves his hand in the air dismissively, “Ah, you can just call me Keishin. No need to be so formal.”

Hitomi mutters a frustrated “shit” under her breath and it takes you a few moments to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you.

“I left my textbook in the car, I have to go grab it,” she sighs then turns to her dad. “You, don’t scare off my friend, please.”

Keishin puts a hand on his heart, a falsely serious expression on his face. “I won’t, scout’s honor.”

She just rolls her eyes, exiting the kitchen the same way you entered. The front door slams shut, leaving you alone with your friend’s very hot dad.

Keishin looks up at you then quickly looks away, unsure how to interact with his daughter’s friends. “So is, uh, Bunny your real name?” he asks, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

Leaning against the table he’s seated at, you fold your arms across your chest, fully aware of how low cut your top is. You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly flicker down to your cleavage then back up to your face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I… I’m just trying to make conversation,” he laughs nervously.

“Hm, well, the short answer is no. You’ll have to get to know me a bit better before I give you the long answer.”

He snorts, pushing his chair back and rising to his full height. “What gave you the confidence to speak like this to your elders?”

Taking a step towards him, you twirl a piece of hair around your finger and shyly peer up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know, but maybe you can teach me how to behave.”

A light blush colors his cheeks and his eyes widen with surprise. “I-I don’t know what you’re implying, but it’s not... appropriate,” he stutters, taking a step backwards to try to put some distance between you.

You sidle up to him, reaching out a hand to caress his well-muscled arm. When he makes no move to stop your petting, you bite your lip and get on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Who said we had to be appropriate?”

His mouth is slightly agape, lips moving every so often, as if he wants to say something but doesn’t. “I—” he starts.

The sound of the front door slamming open makes you both jump apart, trying to appear as casual as possible.

“I got it! We can go study now,” Hitomi proclaims, waving the book around in her hands. She glances at you, then at her father and notices the way you’re completely turned away from each other. “Oh my God, Dad, what did you do?” she groans.

He holds up both hands in surrender, shaking his head emphatically. “I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something?”

Your friend strides over to lightly punch his shoulder, a disapproving but loving expression on her face. “Because you’re weird and lame. Besides, between you and Bunny, I’m always going to assume that you’re the guilty party.”

You find yourself chuckling at their banter, touched by how close they are. It’s evident that Hitomi and Keishin care a lot about each other, regardless of how much they tease each other and guilt twists in your gut when you remind yourself that you were flirting with him. She likely wouldn’t forgive you for trying to sleep with her dad and it would cause a great deal of damage to their relationship, possibly beyond repair if she knew he was into girls her age. To make matters worse, you’re two years her junior. What man would sleep with a girl younger than his daughter?

But your morals are tossed right out the window when you take in the sight of Keishin’s radiant smile—all straight, white teeth and eyes that shine like pools of dark honey. It’s in that moment that you decide you’re going to seduce that man if it’s the last thing you do.

Sorry, Hitomi. Kind of.

---

“Okay, so L-Tyrosine is one of the twenty amino acids used by the body to synthesize proteins. It is also an aromatic amino acid derived from phenylalanine by hydroxylation in the para position—oof!” Hitomi’s droning is cut off by the pillow you send hurtling towards her head.

You sit up on her bed, squealing obnoxiously as you stretch. “Hitomi, I love you, but please shut up. My brain is melting. We’ve been at this for three hours now, can we take a break?”

She closes the textbook in her lap and pushes it to the edge of her desk. “Fine, fine. We can take a twenty minute break, but we have to go right back to studying because finals are this week and I cannot afford to fail,” your friend warns, despite how she whips out her phone at lightning speed.

Picking at a stray thread on the comforter, you gently try to get her attention, “Hey, Tomi?”

“Hm?” she responds, barely glancing up from the video she’s watching.

You’re not sure how to broach the subject, but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush so you just come right out and say it. “Has anyone told you your dad’s kinda hot?”

That makes her stop, her head jerking up from her phone at lightning speed. “What!? That old geezer?” She sounds dumbfounded, incredulous at the prospect that someone would be interested in her father.

“Yeah girl, he’s a total DILF,” you confess, making a little fanning motion with your hand like you’re burning up inside just thinking about him, and it’s not that far from the truth.

Hitomi makes no effort to hide her feelings, disgust clearly evident in her delicate features. “Ew! You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not joking! He’s really sexy,” you muse dreamily.

She claps both hands over her ears, yelling at the top of her lungs to drown you out. “I never want to hear you say that my old man is ‘sexy’ ever again!”

You childishly stick your tongue out at her. “Hey! I’m just speaking the truth. You have to have had friends say the same thing.”

Removing her hands from her ears, she brings one up to stroke her chin, seemingly deep in thought. “Now that I think about it, back in high school my friends were a lot more enthusiastic about coming over once they met my father.”

You feel vindicated by her personal testimony, even if she thinks you’re gross. “See? I’m not the only one who finds your dad ridiculously attractive.”

Hitomi gags dramatically as if she’s going to puke and judging by the look on her face, she just might. “Please, no more, I’m begging you.”

“Fine, fine I’ll stop, but don’t act surprised when I become your new stepmom,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows at her.

“You’re younger than me, don’t even joke about that,” she shudders in horror. “Okay, with that we need to get back to studying amino acids and proteins.”

“Whatever you say, future stepdaughter.” You muster your best motherly voice, sickeningly sweet and a touch passive aggressive.

This time, it’s Hitomi’s turn to throw a pillow at you.

---

Since the day you met Keishin, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Even when you’re in class trying to learn about the sodium-potassium pump, you find your thoughts drifting to his hands, his lips, him. He’s simply become too distracting to ignore.

More times than you care to admit, you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers to thoughts of how his fingers would feel pumping inside you. You fantasize about how his hand would feel around your neck, squeezing with just enough pressure to make your vision hazy. His name is always on the tip of your tongue when you orgasm and when you finally let yourself moan out ‘Keishin,’ you know enough is enough. A man his age has to know exactly how to make a woman scream and writhe in pleasure, but you need to experience it for yourself or you’ll die trying.

You’re not oblivious to the way he looks at you with hunger and longing in his eyes, you know he wants you too and you’re not above using dirty tricks to show him just how much you want him.

If he’s too proud, too noble to give in to his urges, you’ll just have to break him. His resolve may be strong, but yours is stronger.

Your efforts begin innocently enough, gently probing him for more information about himself so you can get to know him better.

“I’ve noticed you don’t wear a ring. Is there a Mrs. Ukai in the picture?” you ask innocently.

Keishin clears his throat a bit too loudly, refusing to meet your questioning gaze. “Nah. It’s just me and Tomi, always has been.”

“Any… future Mrs. Ukai in the picture?”

The corners of his lips twitch slightly, the barest of smiles tugging at his handsome features. “Can’t say there is. Between the store and coaching volleyball, I don’t really have the time to date.”

You nod and make a noise of acknowledgement, relieved by the confirmation that he is in fact very, very single. You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a homewrecker.

On another occasion, you’re seated on their plush leather couch and Keishin’s in the well-worn La-Z-Boy recliner to your left. You’re watching some Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, but it’s paused while Hitomi is in the bathroom.

You take your alone time together as an opportunity to question him more, toeing the line of what would be considered proper. “So, Keishin, how old are you? I know Tomi’s twenty-one so you must be…” you trail off, hoping he’ll humor you.

He takes a swig of the beer in his hand and your eyes instinctively flicker down to watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Old.”

You roll your eyes and prop your chin up on your hand, readjusting your position on the couch so you’re leaning closer to him. “Obviously, but just how old?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” he asks, head tilted and a well-groomed eyebrow lifted questioningly.

“I was just wondering if you’re older than my dad,” you tease.

His shoulders shake slightly as he chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m forty-four. Do I have him beat?”

“He’s forty-two, so just barely.” Your steady, unwavering eyes lock onto his own, which are glassy and unfocused from the alcohol. When he brings the bottle to his lips once more, you nonchalantly add, “Maybe I should call you Daddy instead.”

Keishin coughs and sputters in surprise, causing him to choke on his beverage and a spray of sticky beer splatters across your face.

Apologies tumble out of his mouth as soon as he realizes that your cheeks and hair are dripping with the craft IPA he was drinking. “I-I’m so sorry! I’ll get you a towel,” he blurts, shooting up from his chair.

In his panic and embarrassment, he rushes toward the linen closet and you can’t help the giggles that escape your mouth at how uncoordinated he is, now several drinks in. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal,” you reassure him, wiping your face with the back of your hand for emphasis.

He returns from the rummaging around the hall closet, a dark blue towel in his hand, which he offers to you with a nod of his head.

No matter your protests and assurances that you’re fine, Keishin is even more insistent in offering you the towel to clean yourself up. When you refuse to take the towel from him, he kneels down next to you and leans in to dab at the foamy liquid that has soaked into your hair.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his fingers on your jaw and you almost squeak at his close proximity. He hasn’t let you near him since your first encounter and now he’s right in front of you, so close that his breath curls around your cheeks, smelling of malted hops and the slightest hint of peppermint. You can map out the slight freckles on the bridge of his nose and each long, curled eyelash that brushes his cheeks each time he blinks.

He’s truly a beautiful man, all sharp angles and rough stubble and you can feel your cheeks warm when you realize that he’s right there. If you leaned forward just a little bit more, your noses would brush against each other.

A deep, rumbling voice interrupts your daydreaming. “Kid, are you even listening to me?”

You blink a couple times, coming to the realization that he’s been trying to talk to you for the last few minutes, but you were too busy admiring his beauty.

Keishin shakes his head as he leans back on his heels, using one hand to rub his face wearily. “As I was saying, you can’t just… say things like that. I know young girls sometimes have fantasies about older men like me, but I’m telling you now that it’ll only end badly,” he sighs. “I’m not a righteous man, I have my vices. God, do I have lots of them, and I don’t need another one.”

He mumbles the last sentence, barely loud enough for you to hear, despite how close you are.

Another one? Is he admitting that the attraction is mutual? You have to know, you just have to. Your body practically aches from how badly you want him.

“Keishin, I—” you start, reaching out to touch his arm, but he stands abruptly and quickly turns to shuffle away from the couch.

“This just isn’t a good idea, kid. Just forget about me, alright?” he says, his back to you. A tinge of regret and hesitation seeps into his words, as if he wants to take back everything he’s said.

After the beer incident, the man is even less receptive than he was before, making every effort to avoid being alone with you.

Even still, you’re not discouraged because he never outright rejected you. If he had, you would’ve stopped your pursuit weeks ago, but he only seems to be trying to maintain his composure as a righteous man.

Righteous men are wolves in sheep’s clothing, always putting on a facade so they can claim plausible deniability when they’re caught with their pants around their ankles. But no matter how honorable or virtuous a man tries to be, none of them can resist a wet, willing pussy laid out in front of them and Keishin is no exception.

That’s why you’ve shown up to their house the last few weeks in skirts far too short to be considered decent, flashing little peeks of your underwear each time you move too much or bend over too far. Each time you bend over to grab a pencil or a piece of paper off the floor, Keishin is always conveniently positioned behind you so he gets an eyeful of your pretty lace panties and the little dark spot where your wetness has soaked through the fabric.

After you retrieve your item from the ground, you look over your shoulder to make direct eye contact with him and say ‘oops,’ without a hint of regret in your voice. You revel in the clenching of his jaw and the way he exhales loud and heavy through his nose, frustration mounting each time you try to provoke him.

When your ass and clothed pussy are on display for him, you make sure to wiggle your hips a bit, an open invitation to fuck you the way you both want to. It never fails to elicit some sort of reaction from the older man, ranging from a few groans and a choked cough, to making a very hasty exit, a book or some other object held over the front of his jeans.

Without fail, Hitomi expresses her concern each time her father storms out of the room, red-faced and breathing heavily. He just waves her off, telling her he’s not feeling well, but you know the truth. He’s painfully hard, painfully hard from you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

Truthfully, if you weren’t trying to get him to fuck you so hard you can’t walk you would applaud his self-control and restraint. Even after weeks of teasing and provocation, the man refuses to give in to his desires.

That’s okay. If he’s not going to come to you, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands.

----

It all reaches a tipping point when you’re unable to go home for winter break and Hitomi offers you their guest room to stay in for a few weeks.

Apparently she never asked her father for permission, if Keishin’s shocked, slightly panicked face when you walked through the door with your suitcase was any indication. When he tried to question Hitomi about whether or not it’s such a good idea for you to stay, she wasn’t having any of it and told him that you’re a friend in need.

Hitomi’s so sweet and caring that you feel a twinge of guilt for plotting to seduce her father in her house when she’s none the wiser. She just wanted to lend a helping hand by letting you stay with them, oblivious to your true plans, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Now that you’re under the same roof, all you really want to do is ambush Keishin as soon as possible, but you have to plan around Hitomi’s schedule so you have bide your time. What’s the saying? Good things come to those who wait?

And wait you do. You wait for two whole weeks, in fact. But then the stars align so perfectly that some otherworldly force must be looking out for you.

Hitomi is gone to work and won’t be back until the middle of the night when her shift is over, while Keishin is home reviewing footage from his team’s latest game.

He told you he does this right before a big game so he can tell his players what they need to improve on and get in that last bit of refinement before the day of. When he clued you in on his strategy you just nodded and hummed, not really listening, mostly focused on ogling his muscles through his thin t-shirt.

Your nerves have been buzzing since you woke up this morning, sensing the heaviness in the air. You’re wearing your prettiest lace panties and its matching bra and frankly, you’re feeling pretty damn confident. You look good and you know you look good. If you were trying to seduce any guy your age, they’d drop their pants as soon as they got a little glimpse of your underwear, but Keishin’s not any guy your age. He needs a little convincing, a little push in the right direction, and you’ll be the one to help him.

You’ve flitted around the house all day, just trying to find the right moment to pounce.

Currently, Keishin is sitting in the living room watching the recording on the big flat screen in the living room. He looks preoccupied with taking notes on the notepad in his lap, but it’s now or never, you suppose.

Before you try to talk yourself out of it, you stride over to where he’s sitting and put your hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey. Did you need something? I’m kind of busy analyzing my team’s last game.”

Not wanting to lose your nerve, you wordlessly swing one leg over his, then the other, planting yourself firmly in his lap. His entire body goes ramrod stiff, hands jerking away from your body as if you’ve burned him.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” he stutters, alarm evident in his voice.

When he makes no move to throw you off his lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him, pressing your chest to his.

“What we both have been wanting to do since the day I met you,” you purr, lips barely brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers when you gently nibble on his earlobe and your confidence only grows as you discover that he wants this just as much as you do.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn't right. I’m your friend’s father and I’m... old enough to be y-yours,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair, conflicted with how to proceed.

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, so you decide to give him a little encouragement.

Leaning back slightly, you run your hands down his chest and bite your lip. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you gonna fuck me? Because if not, I’ve got several guys back at college who—”

You’re cut off when Keishin’s hand wraps around your throat, the other braced against your back to pull you flush against him.

“You think your little stunts are cute, don’t you?” he growls, his minty breath washing over your face.

“What, you don’t think so, Daddy?” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him innocently.

His eyes flash with something hot and primal and you can feel the gush of wetness between your thighs. “I’m getting a little tired of them,” he growls.

“This,” you palm at the bulge straining against his pants, “Tells me otherwise, you know.”

The hand around your throat tightens, cutting off whatever bratty remark you were about to make. “I’ve had enough of you prancing around my home in tiny skirts and flashing me your panties when my daughter is around. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then t-teach me a lesson,” you gasp, struggling to speak with Keishin’s fingers so firmly wrapped around your throat.

The way he grins is downright sinful and it stokes the fire already raging inside you. “Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

With some manhandling on Keishin’s part, you’re shoved toward the couch then pulled back onto his lap, but this time you’re on your stomach and both your wrists are pinned behind your back.

“Before we go any further,” he starts, trailing his fingers down your spine and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I have to ask… How old are you?”

You twist around to look him in the eyes, a defiant smirk on your face. “Old enough.” Your mischievous giggle is cut off by a swift, firm slap to your ass.

“Watch the lip, brat. I need a little more reassurance than that.”

“Since you’re just so concerned, I’m nineteen. Perfectly legal and more importantly, legally fuckable,” you say, punctuated by an enticing wiggle of your hips.

“Jesus, you’re two years younger than Tomi. What am I doing?” He seems lost in thought as the honorable side of him fights a losing battle against his baser, carnal instincts. Whatever reservations he has are thrown aside when you start to wiggle in his grasp, maneuvering yourself over his crotch to grind yourself against his hardness.

Keishin gathers your hair around his fist, harshly jerking your head so far backwards that your spine aches from the unnatural angle.

“Stop fucking squirming. You just don’t know how to behave, do you?” It’s phrased like a question, but he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth so you can’t respond.

You knew Keishin would be the perfect dom, but the ease with which he settles into the role makes your head spin and your insides throb. Latching onto his digits, you lick and suck like the good girl you are, coating them in saliva as he hums in appreciation.

“Foo wans tuh behav wen thith is wutt I ge fo bein ba?” you ask, garbled and muffled by the fingers massaging the back of your tongue.

A series of harder, heavier spanks make you squeal and squirm even more in his lap. He gently rubs his hand over your warm, stinging flesh as he speaks. “Such a troublemaker. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?” He tries to sound admonishing, but you can tell he’s smiling behind his words.

His hand leaves your ass, no doubt raised to spank you again, but before he can, you bite down on his fingers. Not too hard, just enough for him to jerk them out of your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me, Daddy.”

You jolt when his thumb rubs against your pussy through your panties. They’re soaked with your slick, the material clinging to your skin uncomfortably. The barest touch has you gasping and pushing your hips back for more. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and you’re so turned on you just might pass out if you’re not filled up soon.

Keishin just laughs darkly at the pathetic humping of your hips and you can feel the rumbling in his chest. “This is what I love about girls your age. So sensitive…” He pulls your panties aside and gently eases a finger inside you, then another as you moan and shake in his lap. “And so reactive. I bet you’d cum just from me putting my cock inside this tight, wet cunt, wouldn’t you?”

He speaks with a hint of condescension that has you clenching around his digits, coating them in sticky, syrupy strands of your arousal as they pump in and out of you. You’d almost be embarrassed at how worked up you are if you had more self respect, but you don’t. All you can focus on is the way his fingertips curl into the little spongy spot inside you that makes you whine.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” The challenge in your voice is severely dampened by how breathless and wrecked you are even though you haven’t really even done anything.

His fingers pull out of you with a lewd squelching sound and you can hear him suck them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I imagined, but I want to taste that sweet pussy of yours. Up, little girl.” He coaxes you from his lap and onto the couch so your back is nestled into the cushions.

Sweat is making hair stick to your forehead and you’re breathing so heavily you’d think you just ran a marathon, but Keishin is looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and it nearly steals what little breath you have left in your lungs.

Oxygen is the last thing on your mind when his lips slot themselves between yours, soft yet demanding as they suck and lick. The movement of his lips doesn’t falter when he pulls your shirt over your head to reveal your light pink bra. Keishin pulls back to kiss along your collarbones, neck, and chest, his teeth occasionally nipping your sensitive flesh and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He expertly removes your panties with one hand so you’re left in just your plaid skirt, exposing your heated flesh to the coolness of the living room.

You’re nearly naked but he’s wearing far too many clothes for your liking, so you blindly grab at his shirt, but your fingers are shaking too much for you to get a good grip. Once he realizes what you’re trying to do, he puts his hands over yours and helps you take off his shirt. You nearly start drooling when all of his hard, rippling muscles and smooth, tan skin are finally revealed to your greedy eyes that can’t seem to settle one thing. You don’t know if you’ll get this opportunity again and you want to remember everything in painstaking detail, especially Keishin’s gorgeous body.

He momentarily disentangles himself from you to remove his jeans, leaving him in just his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. The outline of his cock is evident as it strains against the blue material and you reach out to stroke it, but he just takes your hand in his.

He brings it to his lips, then kisses up your arm until he reaches your lips. “All in due time, sweet girl. I want to taste you first.” Your mouth is claimed in another hungry, bruising kiss and you squeal when Keishin takes your lip between his teeth and bites, blood rushing to the surface of your skin.

His head dips down to leave featherlight kisses and teasing licks down your chest and stomach before he’s resting between your thighs. You whimper pitifully as he spreads your legs, awaiting the feeling of a wet tongue or his fingers against your folds. When he doesn’t move for several beats, you come to the realization that he’s just watching the way your cunt twitches and clenches around nothing and the wetness that drips onto the couch each time your muscles contract. You quickly bring your legs together to hide yourself from his scrutinizing gaze, but he simply pries them open with little effort.

Keishin grabs your chin so you’ll look right at him, squirming from the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me, do you understand? I am going to devour you until I’ve had my fill and you’re going to just lie back and take it.”

You nod obediently, your impudence quickly dying, giving way to the burning ache between your legs that can only be sated by a long, hard fuck.

With a satisfied hum, he settles at the apex of your thighs and licks a long stripe from your quivering pussy to your swollen clit and your hips jerk from the contact. Strong hands pin your hips to the couch as you writhe in his firm grip. He gives your clit a soft, quick kiss before he takes it into his mouth and sucks. You grab fitfully at his hair, back arching and hips pressing into his mouth as you gasp and groan from the incredible feeling of his tongue on your sensitive flesh.

His tongue teases your entrance and your cunt twitches, anticipating the first thrust of his warm, wet muscle inside you. He occasionally dips into your hole, but never breaches your entrance and you think you might go mad if he doesn’t give you more.

“I-I need more, give me more,” you manage to gasp, grabbing a fistful of the pillow underneath you as the tightening in your belly gets stronger.

Keishin removes his mouth from your cunt just long enough to admonish you for your lack of respect. “You need to have more manners if you’re going to demand things of me,” he says, before latching back onto your swollen, twitching clit.

“Daddy, pleeease I need more. Ah! I want to cum!” Your voice is so high-pitched and whiny you almost don’t recognize yourself, but you’re nearly delirious from pleasure and your impending climax that’s been dangled over your head for what feels like hours.

“Now who am I to deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

He thrusts two of his digits inside you, reaching deep inside you and rubbing against your g-spot as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. You’re almost screaming at this point, clawing at his hair and humping your cunt against his face. The familiar tightening in your belly signals that you’re about to cum and your moans and cries get faster, louder as the promise of white hot pleasure is just within reach—

It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re teetering on the edge of climax, as if you’re a virgin school girl that’s never touched herself before. But maybe that’s the difference that years of experience can make.

Not that you care. You just want to cum.

“Fuck, Daddy, I—I’m close!”

Sensing your impending orgasm, the man uses his free hand to slap your cheek then grabs your throat. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tuts, “Ask Daddy for permission to cum.” You’re clamping down on his fingers impossibly tighter as he fingers you even deeper, and the way he sucks on your clit renders you incapable of speech. Each time you open your mouth to try to speak, more desperate, wanton noises escape your lips.

You’re about to fucking burst at the seams and you feel like you’re on fire, but you want to be a good girl for your daddy, so you use the last bit of brain power you have left to ask for permission.

“P-pleaaase Daddy may I ahhh! May I cum!” you ask, but you can’t even hear Keishin give his approval from how loud the blood rushing in your ears is as you finally cum.

You try to muffle your cries with the back of your hand, but he grabs your wrist and wrenches it away from your mouth.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you scream.” His tone is clipped and short, not caring how rough he is with your delicate flesh.

If you weren’t already cumming, you would have from the pleasure that’s so intense, it’s almost painful as your body is wracked with tremors. Your legs snap around Keishin’s head and you grip his hair even tighter as wave upon wave of your orgasm washes over you. You hear someone screaming and wonder what’s happening, when you realize it’s you, you’re the one screaming as you ride out your climax.

He greedily slurps and sucks up every single drop of your release that you can give him, as if he was stranded in the desert for a thousand years and your juices are the first sip of water to hit his dry, parched tongue. Your cunt is already so sensitive, painfully clenching around his fingers, but he just. Doesn’t. Stop.

“Fuck, K-Kei, wait ‘s too much,” you weakly protest, but your body is too spent to resist so you just lie there, twitching and gasping as he keeps sucking on your overstimulated clit.

His lips detach from your poor, abused bud and you almost sigh in relief before the fingers inside your cunt pump faster, stimulating every inch of your gummy walls.

Keishin leans over your sweaty, exhausted form, one hand braced on the couch, the other buried inside you. His fingers are hitting a spot inside you that makes you feel the urge to pee, so you try to push his hand away but it’s futile with how much stronger he is than you.

“Hold onnn, I’m g-gonna—” you slur, panicked, but it’s as if he didn’t hear you.

His digits are relentless, rubbing and stroking and you’re a fucked out mess. You don’t know what he wants until an uncomfortable tightness shoots through your cunt. You cry out as clear liquid gushes out of you, splashing all over you, the couch, and Keishin. If you were more coherent, you might be mortified because you just… pissed on him—

To your surprise, he’s laughing as he removes his hand from inside you, ignoring your halfhearted groans. “I was hoping you’d do that,” he says, holding up his hand, shiny and dripping with your juices.

“D-Do what?” you pant, unsure of what just happened and why Keishin seems so smug.

He uses his discarded t-shirt to wipe his hand off, then dabs at your stomach where a sizable puddle accumulated. “Squirt,” he responds. When he sees your confused expression, he follows up with, “It’s not piss, if you’re worried about that.”

“Ooookay.” You’re too dazed and exhausted to argue with him or question him further, so you just flop into the sofa and close your eyes.

“C’mon, little girl, don't tell me that’s all you’ve got. You were talking so much shit earlier and I have so much more to give you.” Despite how tired you are, his words spark new arousal in your belly and defiance revitalizes you, movement returning to your limbs.

You slide a hand down your stomach and spread the puffy lips of your cunt, sliding a finger through your wetness. “Of course it’s not. I’m ready to take that hard cock of yours, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s what I like to see,” he praises, dropping his underwear and sliding them somewhere you can’t see.

His cock is gorgeous, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, considering the man it belongs to. It’s thick and curved in a way that you know will reach the deepest parts of you.

What you weren’t expecting is the many piercings adorning the shaft and the one that goes through the head. A long curved barbell enters through the tip and exits through the underside of his glans. Three evenly spaced rings are embedded in the skin where his shaft meets his balls. You’ve never seen so many piercings on one man, let alone in such a sensitive place, so you gawk at the smooth metal rings that shine in the overhead lights.

“You’re… You have…”

He grins widely and it’s so devilish you think he might swallow you whole and honestly? You’d let him. You’d let him do whatever he wants to you. “Haha, yeah I get that reaction a lot. Never seen a pierced cock before, huh?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything. I’m dying to see how those,” you point to his piercings, “Feel inside me.”

Keishin wordlessly climbs on top of you and rubs the head against your wetness, spreading it along his shaft to ease his entry. “They’ll feel fucking incredible, but you’ll have to beg for it.”

You scoff, reaching to grab his hips so he’ll fuck you already, but he scoots backwards so you can’t touch him.

“Naughty girls that misbehave don’t get fucked, so you’d better smarten up quickly,” he warns, making you gasp as he thrusts his cock against your clit.

He lazily nudges the head over your flesh, occasionally letting it catch on the tight ring of muscle around your hole. When he slots between your pussy lips, you try to wiggle and hump your hips in his direction, in hopes that he’ll slide right in.

But he doesn’t, and you’re about to go mad with his cock so close, but so far away.

“Please fuck me Daddy. I need your cock so bad!” You’re on the verge of tears, the buildup of the last few weeks overwhelming your senses.

Making a noise of sympathy, Keishin pets your hair affectionately and kisses your cheek. “All you had to do was ask.”

His hips pull back, then he’s thrusting inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. You whimper and whine at the sudden intrusion, but any pain you feel is overshadowed by the way that his cock is filling you so full. The burn and stretch hurts so fucking good that your orgasm hits you like a freight train, fast and hard and blinding. Keishin fucks you through it, his cock touching all of the sensitive spots inside you and the pleasure is so strong you have to screw your eyes shut as you cry out and fall apart around him.

When you open them again, the man is staring down at you with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “See? I said you’d cum as soon as I put my cock inside you.”

Using all the strength you can muster, you slap his arm. “Shut up and just fuck me.”

“You still haven’t learned your manners, but I just can’t wait to shoot my cum deep inside this cute cunt of yours,” Keishin groans, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back inside the hot, welcoming clutch of your pussy.

You can feel each of the metal rings on his cock, foreign and strange, but the odd feeling soon fades to little shocks of ecstasy each time they brush against your insides.

The lewd slapping sounds of skin on skin are all you can hear besides the occasional moan or hiss from the man fucking you within an inch of your life, not that you can focus on anything else right now.

You nudge at Keishin’s shoulder and he stops the rapid pistoning of his hips, an almost annoyed look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but you just smile and push him backwards onto the couch, just like you were. He grunts in surprise as he falls backward, but he quickly quiets down when you climb on top of him and sink yourself back down on his length.

You both moan in unison as he fills you once more, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix each time you force your cunt back down on him. His hands wander to your tits, grabbing, squeezing, and pinching the sensitive buds of your nipples.

Ever the troublemaker, you can’t resist making a jab at him now that you’re on top. “I wonder what she’d do if she knew you were with me right now. What would your daughter say about you taking advantage of a young, helpless girl?”

Keishin takes that moment to pull you against him, thrusting hard and rough into your gummy walls that never stop pulsing around him. You’re shaking and gasping, your tongue lolling out of your mouth in your pleasured delirium. “With the way your greedy, sloppy cunt is clenching around me, I wouldn’t say I’m taking advantage of you,” he points out, only slightly out of breath. “But you get off on this, don’t you? Letting an old man like me fuck you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Like you’re any b-better,” you bite back.

You cry out when Keishin starts rubbing your swollen clit in tight little circles, your third orgasm fast approaching.

“Fuck! I can—urgh, I can feel your pussy pulsing around me. I’m g-gonna cum,” he grits out, thrusting impossibly deeper inside you. He's pressed so far into you, he’s just thumping the head of his cock against your cervix. You scream and write in his arms, seeking to relieve the sharp burning in your womb just a little bit, but he has you firmly locked in his clutches. “Be a good little girl and cum for Daddy.”

Almost on command, you shake and moan, loud and long, as you cream all over his cock and coat the base in milky white. “Oh fuck, oh god! D-Daddy I’m cu-mming!” you wail with the last of your energy.

You’re so exhausted you go limp against him and let him use your body as a fuck toy until he reaches his climax. Keishin follows soon behind you, his thrusts growing sloppier and less coordinated as he mumbles obscenities under his breath. “Shit shit shit, fuck I’m cumming! I’m gonna—fuck!”

With one last thrust into your fluttering, over stimulated cunt he orgasms, his legs shaking as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your quivering womb.

You both lay there for several minutes to catch your breaths. You’re so sore and boneless you can barely move, but you manage to extricate yourself from Keishin’s long limbs. Leaning into the arm of the couch, you let your eyes flutter closed and allow sleep to take you.

You’re awoken by a warm, wet washcloth rubbing against your sensitive folds and you whine, sleepily wiggling your hips to get away from the discomfort. “Kid, I know it doesn’t feel good but, uh, it’s kind of a mess down there. You can go back to sleep, just let me clean you up.” Keishin’s familiar timbre comforts you so you settle back down, still half asleep.

“Mmm, Keishin?” you mumble, making grabby hands at the man.

He takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” he responds as he wipes the washcloth between your legs with his other hand.

You rub your face against his hand before placing a sloppy kiss on top of it. “Thank youuuu,” you slur.

Keishin just chuckles and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. “Yeah kid, you’re welcome. Just get some rest, alright?”

You’re asleep before he even finishes the sentence.

----

When you awaken it’s dark, most likely the middle of the night. There’s a blanket thrown over your unexpectedly clothed body, which is now covered in a worn, oversized shirt. It smells like fabric softener and musk, so you figure it must be Keishin’s.

Looking around, you bolt upright when you realize you’re not on the living room couch anymore, you’re now in a large, comfortable bed.

The sound of a deep, rumbling voice draws your attention to the bathroom connected to the room you’re currently in. “Oh, you’re finally awake,” Keishin says sheepishly as he emerges from the bathroom, then points to the nightstand next to you. “There’s some water and ibuprofen, you should take it. Even if you’re not sore now, you will be later.”

You chuckle tiredly as you stretch your overworked muscles. “I’m already sore, so I’ll definitely be taking these.”

He sits awkwardly on the side of the bed, unsure how to treat you after your little encounter. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on he’s seemingly deep in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, just spit it out.” His head immediately snaps to you, eyes guarded and unreadable.

“What we did downstairs, it’s… not right. I’m supposed to protect young, impressionable girls like you. I’m a father—I would die if Tomi was after a man more than twice her age.”

You pull the blanket off of you and climb over to where the older man is seated on the mattress. “Keishin, let me ask you something.” He lifts his head, expectant. “Did you enjoy what we did? Because I did.” He nods slowly, still unsure what you’re getting at.

Taking his face in your hands, you tell him what you’ve been thinking for weeks. “At the end of the day, we’re two consenting adults who partook in consensual activities. Even if someone wants to clutch their pearls because you’re older than me, who cares?”

“Yeah, I get that, but… It has to be some sort of ethics violation on my part. You’re younger than my daughter, Bunny.”

“Even if it is, you have to allow yourself to live a little. Life is too short to deny yourself pleasures the world has to offer, and I don’t know about you, but I was very pleased by our… tryst.”

A cute blush spreads across Keishin’s cheeks as he remembers everything he said and did to you. “Aha, I was too. So, um… Would you want to do that again, sometime?” he asks, running a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

You giggle and tackle him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Of course I do. We can even do it now, if you’d like…”

A couple hours later, just before Hitomi comes back, you limp across the hallway to your room and pass out, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And that is how your little arrangement begins.

Most of your time is spent with Hitomi, mostly shopping and going out to eat when she has the day off, or just watching Netflix in her room when you’re both too tired to go anywhere.

However, in the wee hours of the morning when you’re sure that she’s asleep, you sneak up to her father’s bedroom and get fucked so hard and so good you can barely make it back to your bedroom before the sun rises.

It’s a good arrangement, you think, you both get what you want and your friend is none the wiser. You figure no harm, no foul. At the end of the winter break, Keishin will likely want to cut things off with you and you’ll go back to your college dorm as if nothing happened.

But the winter break isn’t over yet, and you plan on making the most of it.

Keishin has been fucking you into the mattress for so long, time no longer even makes sense anymore.

You’re sweaty and exhausted, muscles so sore and shaky, but the thrusting between your legs shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. The harsh grip on your hips will likely bruise, but luckily you can hide them, unlike the few close calls you’ve had with poorly-placed marks on your neck.

Despite your exhaustion, you continue to meet Keishin’s thrusts by humping your hips back at him.

He gives your ass a harsh spank and fucks into you harder, making you whine and clench around him. “You’re an insatiable little thing, aren’t you? So fucked out and dripping with my cum, yet you still want more,” he says, but all you can do is gasp in response. You’re too far gone to produce any meaningful response. “What am I going to do with you?” If you had the energy, you’d tell him whatever he wants, but you don’t and the familiar tug of an orgasm is too hard to ignore.

“Fuck Daddy, I-I’m—”

Suddenly, his phone comes to life, Hitomi’s face lighting up the screen as it vibrates. The pistoning of his hips slows, then stops completely as he reaches over and grabs it off the nightstand.

He suddenly pulls out of your sore, abused cunt and you almost whine at the loss before he buries himself back inside you. The way your face is pressed into the mattress makes it difficult, but you manage to turn your head to see what Keishin is doing behind you.

Your eyes widen and you try to wriggle out of his grip when you figure out that he’s going to answer his phone as he keeps fucking you.

A hand wraps around your neck, lifting you up from your position on the bed and you have to follow its movement to prevent your windpipe from getting crushed. You’re pressed against Keishin’s hard chest, and his cock is nestled right against your cervix. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stay still and take it like a good little girl.”

The harsh grip on your neck releases and you’re shoved back into the bed, falling onto the comforter.

Keishin sounds completely normal when he answers his phone and it almost pisses you off—how can he be so unaffected when you’re at your wit’s end?

He chirps into the phone, “Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” The only indication that anything is amiss is the slight breathlessness in his voice and the occasional curse under his breath.

He forces himself even deeper inside you so forcefully that you’re afraid he’ll punch straight through to your womb. You know it’s not possible, but with Keishin, it just might be. He’s always full of surprises, especially when it comes to your body.

“Oh yeah, sure I can drop it off to you later. I’m just a little… preoccupied at the moment,” he says with a sharp thrust of his hips and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Keishin stiffens above you, waiting to see if Hitomi heard you through the phone.

“No, Hitomi, I’m not watching porn! But hold on a second, I think someone is at the door.” He sets the phone on the bed, muting the call as his cock hits your g-spot and you’re shaking, practically shivering in his arms. A couple of hard, coordinated rubs of your engorged clit and you’re cumming, gushing around him and keening as your muscles clench uncomfortably. You scream silently and fall limp onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, but it’s to the point that each successive orgasm borders on the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Better keep quiet, wouldn’t want my daughter to hear you getting your pretty little cunt stuffed full of my cock,” Keishin snarls into your ear and you feel yourself clench painfully around him. Your body is just so worn out, but you know he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. “Or do you want her to know what a slut you are for her father?”

You shake your head vehemently, but the man inside you just chuckles as he keeps fucking you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck I-I…” You’re babbling nonsense to no one in particular.

“Ahh it was just-fuck, it was just some dude trying to sell me security cameras. Anyways, I’ll see you later honey, I love you.” His last few sentences sound rushed, urgent and you can tell from the twitching of his length that he’s close. The moment the phone is hung up, Keishin cages you between his body and the mattress. “Your cunt feels so fucking good, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Would you like that?”

You try to nod and make a noise akin to ‘mhm,’ but you’re not sure what it sounds like. You’re not really sure of anything right now, but what you are sure of is you want him to cum inside you.

“I could never deny you anything, sweet girl,” he groans.

Keishin fucks into you harder, faster, and it feels as if he’s quite literally rearranging your guts, he’s so deep inside you. He reaches down between your legs and pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers. “Think you have one more in you, hm?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer. Of course you do.” He rubs your sore clit the way he knows will have you shaking and coming apart around him.

“Fuck Daddy, fuck I’m cumming!” you squeal, writhing and squirming from the painful, aching tightness of your orgasm as it builds once more.

“Ergh, fuck yeah, cum on Daddy’s cock as he fills you up. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, I love this sweet pussy.”

You shriek as you cum, your climax so strong that your vision blurs at the edges and you convulse, sore muscles twitching with overuse.

“Daddy’s gonna breed his sweet little girl, fuck, feels so fucking good!” Keishin groans, burying himself as deeply as he can inside you and shooting his cum into your quivering hole. You sigh in relief at the feeling of his warm cum flooding your womb, thankful he finally came because you couldn’t have lasted much longer in your state.

He flops next to you on the bed, sweaty and exhausted from your hours-long fuck marathon. Throwing an arm over your waist, he pulls you to his chest and buries his nose in your neck.

Hitomi’s not supposed to come back for several hours, so you both deem it safe to fall asleep as you are. Just when you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes from the bedside table.

You reach for your phone, expecting it to be some spam email.

Your heart stops, the whole world seems to freeze when you open the text message.

From: Tomie <3

So when were you going to tell me you’re fucking my dad?

#haikyuu smut #ukai x reader #ukai smut #haikyuu x reader #ukai keishin #server collab #bunny scribbles #hq smut #hq fanfic #hq reader insert #haikyuu imagines

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

It Takes Two

Pairing: Soft Dark!Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, cheating, breakups, rehab, recovery, deception, lies, celibacy, manipulation, wedding planning, semi-public explicit, rough, sex, oral sex (m receiving), degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, dubiuous con (b/c of deception). Darkish! Scott Evans. This is not proofread!

A/N: @lovebittenbyevans gave me a great idea about still dealing with Chris when commenting on The One. I thought that the Chris in that fic could really go left and get pretty Dark and dirty. And then....

Anonymous asked:

Imagine Chris cheating on Y/N …

That made me think up this fic. It is a sequel to The One. I hope you like it!

-----

You left him.

You flew to Montreal to surprise him on set, trench coat and lingerie and everything, and when you opened the door to his trailer, you saw Heidi on her knees giving Chris a blowjob.

You cussed him out, threw the ring back in his face and turned around and left.

You blocked his number, moved out of his house and cut off all contact. You were done.

The audacity of Chris being indignant about your warnings about Heidi when he was boning her all along.

You loved Scott, but you had to cut him off too after he tried to explain that Chris was drunk when you found him, and was going to rehab to deal with his issues.

It was classic celebrity bullshit and you didn’t have time for it.

You decided to center yourself, and swear off all relationships and sex. You wanted to purge your mind of all that weighed you down.

You concluded that love, sex, and Chris Evans made you feel heavy as fuck.

You moved to New York City. It was far enough away from Chris and your folks in Houston to give you some peace.

You could still run your business and even think about a storefront. It was the perfect location to live your best life, eat healthy, exercise, socialize and network.

You fell in love with yourself, and you didn’t think much about Christopher Robert Evans at all.

Only every time you went on IG or Twitter, even though you blocked him and his hashtags. And every time you went to Target, because his fucking movies and merchandise were everywhere.

But you were cool, because you were doing you. You weren’t looking for love.

Of course, that’s when it found you.

Six months after you left Boston, you were at a natural beauty products expo in Brooklyn hawking your wares.

Your business had taken off, with almost a half million dollars in sales, and you were being interviewed by a major news outlet of color when one of the correspondents caught your eye.

You flirted, exchanged numbers and ended up going on a date. In another three months you were engaged to him.

Kevin Watts made you feel safe, protected and loved. And he wasn’t just after sex. He was well off, and secure in himself and you. It just felt right.

When Kevin proposed, it was just you and him at your favorite restaurant. So romantic.

Not like the rowdy family 4th of July party at which Chris asked you to marry him last year, in front of both your parents.

The laughter and the joy was just a little much.

This was perfect. You didn’t miss Chris at all. You set about planning your wedding with a profound sense of peace and safety.

You and Kevin were meant to be.

----

Chris was nothing without you.

Nothing but an award winning actor and producer, a multi-millionaire and founder of a major organization dedicated to bringing opposing political viewpoints together.

All of that was cool, and it kept him going, but when he lost you, he lost his motivation.

Chris didn’t take any more roles after the sequel with Heidi, and he dumped her post haste. He did enter rehab and realized that he depended way too much on alcohol to dull his emotions.

He got drunk off his ass when he was away from you because he missed you so much, and that led to him letting Heidi think that she could have him.

She’d had him physically, but never his heart. Or his mind. You owned those.

Chris followed your business closely, and was proud of your success.

Of course he followed your social media on burner accounts and saw that you were doing well.

You looked like you enjoyed being single and seemed healthy and happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more for you.

Except to be his again.

Chris was just biding his time for your reunion, deciding to give you a year before he made his move.

Now he felt every emotion, and he knew that you must still love him too.

You just needed to realize that your life would be even better with him back in it.

The year apart would be just punishment for what he’d done to you, and when you came back together, it would be better than before.

Everyone speculated on his bachelorhood, wondering if he would settle down, speculating and gossiping about who he was with, but he just played coy and kept quiet.

No one would know that he was yours and yours alone, and that you were still his.

You just didn’t know it.

But you weren’t going along with the plan that you didn’t know about.

About seven months into his self-imposed purgatory, a complication started popping up on Chris’s feed.

Kevin.

And a couple of months after that, a post of a proposal, in a restaurant.

The asshole probably didn’t even ask or involve your folks. Chris was in a rage for a week.

He almost started drinking again, but as he got ready to drive to the liquor store, Kevin’s face flashed on his screen doing a report on the election.

Instead of making him even more angry, he smiled, elated at the thought that came to him.

Chris had a new plan, and it was going to be even better than before.

-----

The last three months had been a whirlwind, and you never thought it would turn out this way.

You were planning your wedding with your mother, discussing the seating at the reception, and you deciding where Chris Evans and his date would sit.

What a time to be alive.

Your mother only let it slip a couple of times that you should be marrying Chris, but for the most part, she kept it cute.

You explained to her that everything was squashed between you and Chris, and that he and Kevin had a great relationship, were friends, even.

They’d bonded over politics when Kevin interviewed him, and became buds before Chris even realized that you and he were together.

Kevin knew, but he wasn’t the jealous type, and he didn’t want to make things awkward. Surprisingly, Kevin insisted that he be at the wedding.

You thought about it and decided it would be the ultimate closure for Chris to watch you marry someone else.

You were pleasantly surprised at Chris. He was handling this very well. He never tried to contact you, and according to Kevin, never even mentioned you. That was growth.

Maybe you too could be friends.

You felt good about it. So much so that you unblocked him and started a dialogue.

-----

Hi.

Chris saw your number come across his apple watch and he practically did a dance. It was 9:24 pm. He picked up his phone and stared at the word, forcing himself to wait and not respond. He went to work out.

47 minutes later, he responded.

Hello?

This time, he sat and waited for your response, which came 7 minutes later.

I just wanted to say, I appreciate the way you're handling this.

Chris bit his lip, imagining you sitting there, thinking of what to say and staring down at your phone.

I’m sorry, I don't know who this is. You may have reached a wrong number?

He grinned at the play.

-----

Your heart dropped. Did he no longer have your contact?

Why would he do that?

You don’t know why you felt some kinda way; you’d blocked him.

Maybe he had changed his number and this was no longer his. Your heart was beating fast when you texted back.

Is this Chris? This is Y/N. I was just texting about Kevin Watts.

You anxiously watched the thought bubbles on imessage.

----

Even though you’d texted back almost immediately, Chris kept you hanging for just a couple of minutes. His dick was hard at the thought of communicating with you.

Fuck, you were such an aphrodesiac.

Oh shit! Y/N I’m sorry. I got a new phone.. You know how it is…

He knew you wouldn’t believe that. That’s why he said it.

You just stared at the phone. That was bullshit. You can easily port your contacts into a new phone. You just never believed that Chris would really move on. And you didn’t know why.

You had.

You took a deep breath and continued.

Lol, No worries! Just wanna say thank you for being cool with my Boo. I’m gonna turn in now. Check you later.

You tried to keep it light.

Chris ignored the ‘my Boo’ comment and focused on the thought of you in bed.

You usually slept in a tank top or t-shirt and panties, and the top would invariably come off because you got hot.

And then things would invariably get hotter if he was in bed with you….

Cool! Sweet dreams. Check you later. 😉

Chris made sure to exit your message thread and come back so that you wouldn’t see the thought bubbles that he saw when you kept staring at the text.

You were lost in the times that Chris always used to say that to you, and when he whispered “Sweet Dreams” in your ear when he was far away, you always had wet dreams about him.

And that wink.

How could a fucking yellow emoji turn you the fuck on?

You reached for your bullet vibrator as you continued to stare at the interaction.

Chis had already started stroking himself when you told him you were going to bed.

Knowing that you were thinking exactly what he wanted you to got him close, and he didn’t even have to pull up your old videos to get off.

Not tonight.

-----

Over the next few weeks. you’d texted a few times, Chris ‘made amends’ and you accepted his apology.

Then, you started texting more regularly, mainly joking around about sports, your Celtics/Rockets rivalry ever raging.

From your perspective, Chris was always appropriate and respected your relationship with Kevin. You were glad because you’d missed your friendship with him.

You felt giddy that your life was working out so well, and you traveled to your weekend getaway in the mountains for your bridal shower with a light heart.

Chris attended Kevin’s bachelor festivities with only a week to go until the wedding.

——

From Chris’s perspective, things were working out better than he’d hoped.

Scoring an invite to the wedding was more than he’d imagined, and Kevin inviting him out to his Bachelor party was just icing on the cake.

Maybe he could make Kevin slip up enough so that you would dump him before the wedding. Chris was hopeful.

If not, Plan B was the nuclear option.

-------

Kevin was following the stripper’s ass like a puppy. He was lit on booze and pills (that Chris provided) and his guard was down.

Kevin considered Chris a friend.

Chris just wanted to keep Kevin close because he was the enemy.

They were talking about you.

“She’s so fucking innocent. A sweeter angel there never was. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck.”

Chris almost choked on his water.

“I'm sorry. What now?”

Kevin just barreled on, ignoring the question.

“That's how I know I need to wife her.” He was talking to Chris, but still staring at the stripper.

“She would never chase the D. Hell, she won’t even touch mine. You know, her being celibate and all.”

Chris raised his eyebrow and smiled, which Kevin never noticed. Chris shook his head at your antics. His little beautiful love.

“That’s why I was never pressed that you are her ex. I mean, I’m impressed you were with her as long as you were.”

Chris just smiled and nodded, curious as to where this was leading.

“A man like you don’t have to put up with that. You must have punani lined up for days, bro.”

Chris’s heart lept. This dullard did not have access to your pussy. HIS pussy. Never has.

Chris could fuck a lot of people a million ways from Sunday with one text. Except for you. And you were all that mattered.

“I don’t know about all that.” Chris put on his best, ‘aw shucks’ act.

Chris was over the moon. You were still his. In every way.

Kevin kept tipping the stripper and was trying to call her over. He asked her about a private lap dance. Chris’s eyes lit up. This asshole was making it too easy.

The stripper nodded and went back to finish up her set. Chris walked over to the bar.

“Aye!” Chris summoned tha bartender over.

“What can I get you, Sir.”

“I don’t need a drink. I wanna take care of my friend over there. He’s gonna have a lap dance with Star. It’s his bachelor party. I need it to be extra special.”

Chris started peeling off hundreds so the barkeep could see.

“And I need him to have some keepsakes, so he’ll remember it always.”

More hundreds came off. The bartender’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “That’s no problem.”

Chris flashed his famous smile.

“Great, let me tell you where to send them. Wanna make them a wedding present.” He wrote down an address on a napkin.

He was now on Plan C. And it was perfect.

------

A week later and the rehearsal at the church was more fun than you thought it would be. You weren’t allowed to participate, just watch, as the result of an old wives tale.

The church secretary found you in the pews. She handed you a manila envelope.

“This was mailed here yesterday, probably an invoice of something for the wedding, I put it aside for you, sweetie.”

You smiled back at her and tucked it into your purse, not wanting to distract yourself with more wedding bills.

Later, when you and Kevin were in the back of the car to the restaurant for the Rehearsal Dinner, you pulled it out and opened it. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“What the ENTIRE FUCK KEVIN!”

You threw the pictures of him fucking a stripper in his face, startling him out of staring at his phone.

He picked one up, his mouth dropped open and started talking.

“Look, Baby, Baby! I can explain!...”

“DO NOT FUCKING LIE TO ME KEVIN! WE HAVE OVER 300 PEOPLE HERE FOR OUR WEDDING TOMORROW MORNING.”

Kevin was on his knees in the back of the suburban.

“Listen to me.. Listen. I’m a man. I have needs…”

“Kevin, I swear to god….”

“Okay, okay… I admit it…”

You listened to him and your heart went silent. You couldn’t even absorb what he said.

When you pulled up to the restaurant, you straightened your dress and looked at him coolly.

“I am NOT going to deal with this tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a fun celebration of our wedding. I will decide later if it's still going to happen.”

Kevin was terrified.

“Right now, you and I will go into this place, greet our friends arm in arm and pretend that you are not a fucking narcissitic asshole who just ripped my heart to shreds. Got it?”

“Yes, but I-”

“Do NOT speak to me unless I speak to you first. Or it's automatically off.”

Kevin just nodded and cleared his throat.

You raised your chin and said, “Let’s go.”

-----

Two hours later, dinner was over, and you were lit on your way to TURNT.

Chris observed you, from the moment you entered holding hands with Kevin to the second you dropped his hand in disgust, to the way you held yourself away from him at dinner, but then put on a sweet face when everyone spoke, to Kevin, who was an absolute mess.

He figured you got the pictures. He suppressed the glee that was coursing through him.

But he couldn’t figure out why you were still going on with the charade.

Chris didn’t make a beeline for you like he wanted to, he just let the natural flow of the party lead you to him. He was talking to your cousin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

“Hey you.”

You cocked your head at him in that way and looked up at him, your smile brightening your face. Damn, he had to plant his feet. You smiling at him like that made him feel faint.

You both heard your cousin say something, but you didn’t pay attention, caught up in your own orbit.

“Hey.”

Chris crossed his arms, and you swore that he was recalling the time when you told him your forearms made you horny. Fuck. Chris made you wet and you were fresh out of fucks tonight.

“So, I can’t have a hug?”

Chris shook his head at your line and opened his arms to embrace you, keeping a respectable pressure and distance until you hugged him tight and pressed close.

He couldn’t help but pick you up, but he put you down immediately, cleared his throat and backed up, looking uncomfortable.

That wouldn’t do. You wanted more of his scent, his warmth, his HIM. You pouted unconsciously in your buzzed state.

Chris’s cock stirred. That fucking mouth had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He was pleased that you were flirting, but he had to work the plan. Couldn’t go too fast.

“You look… great. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow in your wedding dress. You will be a beautiful bride.”

Chris broke his voice in just the right place to convey a wistfulness, making you think that he thought he lost you.

You felt bad. Chris was so sweet. You thought about him and you thought about Kevin.

What was the difference between what Chris did and what Kevin did?

And who did you have more chemistry with? Chris.

Why were you even marrying Kevin?

You looked over at him looking at you and Chris like a lost dog.

You had no idea why you were marrying him.

“You look… Like Chris fucking Evans.” You two laughed.

“I bet you’re fighting them off with a stick.” You sideyed him.

Chris reveled in your interest in his sex life.

“Well, you know. After rehab, I’ve laid off the... physical part of my life. It only brought chaos, you know. I’m trying to be more… zen. Haven’t really had… that for the better part of a year.”

He watched your eyes get big.

“Word?” You smirked. “So you…”

Chris held up his hand. The one you knew he jacked off with. You grabbed it and started drawing on his palm. Chis pulled it back and cleared his throat again.

You pouted again. Him being hard to get made you wet.

And Chris knew that.

“So… you ready to marry the love of your life?”

Chris’s sea blues looked you deep into your cocoa browns. You were transported back in time.

“Yes.”

Then you snapped out of it.

“I mean… the church is set up, the dress is bought, everyone’s here. I guess so.”

Chris laughed as if you were telling a joke.

“I miss your sense of humor.”

You all made small talk and you caught up a little before you asked what you wanted to know.

“So what are you up to tonight?”

Chris looked at his watch.

“I’m actually about to go to my condo an turn in. I get up early to work out.” He felt your eyes sweep up and down his body, and he flexed even though he was fully dressed. It was true. Working out was a regimen. He wanted you drooling for him.

“It’s the Marvel condo in Brooklyn?”

You nodded, remembering good times.

“So you have a car picking you up?” Your mind was whirring.

“I actually have a rental.”

You gulped your drink down, not daring to look in his eyes. Now, not only was your pussy wet, your nipples were hard as hell.

“It’s in the parking garage down the block.”

“Well, I need to clear my head. I’ll walk you there, and you can drop me back?”

Chris looked down at your cute face, and then around the room, spotted Kevin and gave him a nod.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

You looked at Kevin, too. You wanted to stick your tongue out, but you just took Chris by the arm and headed toward the door.

“I’m a big girl. Nobody owns me.”

You looked up into Chris’s eyes and instantly regretted that statement. You played it off and pulled him through the door.

You didn’t talk at all the entire way, both of your heads deep in the clouds of you and him. The chemistry was crackling the air between you.

You held on to his arm, and he let you, reveling in your touch.

When you reached the parking garage, Chris pressed the button with his knuckle and you got in, headed for the top deck.

You just stared at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chris chuckled.

“You’re dangerous, night before your wedding, you probably have cold feet, I’m here. Maybe you want to be sure that you’re sure…”

You cocked your head. “Who said I wanted to fuck you, Chris Evans?”

Chris cocked his head too, mirroring you. “Who said ‘fuck?’ I was thinking you wanted to talk.”

He smirked and you scowled as the door opened.

Chris left you in the elevator stewing as he walked over to the black Tesla he’d rented. There was no other car on the deck.

You scoffed, and followed him out.

He was about to walk around to the driver's side door when you grabbed his arm before he made it. He stopped directly in front of the car.

“Do you mean to tell me that you don’t want me?” You were hot, in more ways than one.

Chris leaned back against the hood.

“That’s not what we’re talking about, y/n. You’re getting married tomorrow. To someone else.”

You smiled and reached up, fingers grazing his neck and playing with the hair at his nape. You ran your fingers through his beard. Kevin’s couldn’t compare.

“That’s tomorrow. Tonight I’m single as fuck.”

You stood on your tip toes and brushed your lips against his, reveling in the moan that came from his throat.

Chris fought to control his urge and continued with his act. His fingers tightened around your waist and you thought this was it. He turned you around in front of the car and then let you go, stepping back to pace back and forth.

“What? What is this? You’ve had almost a year. Kevin’s my friend. What do you want from me?”

He advanced on you, and you had to remember to breathe. He knew what you wanted.

“You. I want you, Chris.”

Chris attacked your lips with his own. He took two seconds to savor them before he ravaged your mouth with his tongue. You moaned and he broke from your mouth to re-discover your face, your neck, your cleavage. He had to control himself not to rip the bodice of your blush pink chiffon dress.

He had a raging hard on, which you were feeling up, remembering how you always struggled to take him. You wanted him to hurt you with it now.

“Give me this Chris… please…”

You were reaching into his pants, thumb caressing his wet, thick tip. He was leaking for you.

“Remember when you told me that I would meet you in a parking lot, and let you fuck me over the hood of your rental car? Even if I was with someone else?”

You pulled your hand out and started sucking your thumb, closing your eyes at the taste of Chris after so long. You pulled it out with a pop.

“You were so right.”

Chris practically growled, grabbed your arm and spun you, pushing your back until your chest hit the hood of the Model X. He leaned over you, pushing his covered crotch into the back of your dress, you moaned, wanting more. His mouth was at your ear.

“Oh, so you want to be my cock whore on the eve of your wedding to someone else.” You moaned because it was true.

“It’s been so long, Chris…”

He reached down in between you and flipped the flouncy skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the wind of New York City. He looked at it for a minute, your ass always his favorite.

He caressed it with both hands, pressing into you with his thumbs.

“So you want me to feel you up?” He pulled his hand back and sucked one of them, practically jumping for joy when he tasted you.

“You want me to pull your panties to the side….” and he did so, seeing your slick shine in the moonlight, and playing in it for a minute, tracing your lips and making you quiver around nothing.

The way you were moaning his name was everything right now.

Your face was pressed against the cool metal of the car, and it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

“Oh yes, Chris…. Please please yesss...fuck me… damn...stretch me out…”

Chris’s dick pulsed and he needed you around him. He moved close again and unzipped his pants, the sound making your knees weak.

He teased your cunt with his tip, collecting your arousal and smearing it not only around your pussy, but around your asshole.

“I know you’ve fucked him, but have you let him have your ass? Am I still the only one…?”

Chris was still playing the game.

“No, no, no… I haven’t let him… I haven’t given him anything. I’ve been celibate, too. It’s still yours Chris. All of me is still yours.”

Chris almost came just hearing you say it out loud. He already knew, but hearing you say it was the shit.

He pushed into you with a grunt, and it was difficult. He didn’t make it. Your cunt squeezed him out.

“Ffffuck, y/n. You’re practically closed down. Is it true?”

He started rocking his tip into your pussy slowly, both regretting and reveling in the fact that he didn’t stretch you out with his fingers beforehand. Then he decided that he wanted you to feel this fully.

You couldn’t answer, only responding with moans has he painfully breached you. You welcomed it, though.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah… yes Chris. Only you.. Since you and I….” Talking about it and the fact that you were taking him again made you wetter, and eased Chris’s way, although your pussy was already stinging with his girth. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

You would never get over this and were so grateful for the feeling again.

Chris watched you and had to grit his teeth to hold back from the reality that he was taking you again.

He leaned over you, hot breath huffing in your ear, puffing and groaning as he fucked you slowly. He was trying to feel every sensation. He wanted you to know that each and every millimeter of your glorious wet, tight pussy was his.

‘Ohhhh. Fuck Chris… YESSSS!” Your voice echoed off the concrete walls, and Chris wanted you louder.

“This what you wanted? You wanted your thick cock inside you again. Hunh? You wanted me to stretch your walls and fuck you raw, hunh?” He started speeding up in time with your moans.

“Such a fucking filthy cockslut for me, baby.” Chris grabbed your neck from the back. “Why didn’t you let Kevin hit, hunh?”

You didn’t answer, you just moaned and Chris smacked your ass, hard.

“Chris! Fuck!”

You screamed. You missed his ruthlessness when you fucked, you missed him making sure that you knew that he knew that you knew. You belonged to him.

“Please!”

“I know why.”

Chris stopped fucking you and pressed down harder on your back, reaching around to find your clit. He swirled around it once, then started to press down slowly.

“Because you would never beg him for that subpar dick that he has. You’re MY whore. You belong to me.”

He pressed down roughly, and you detonated around his dick. He didn’t have to move. Chris pulled out, leaving you cold and bereft.

You turned around and leaned up against the hood, panting and still desperate for him. He stood there in front of you, dick sticking out of his pants, which were ruined, and still rock hard and ready. He was in a quiet rage.

“Why did you leave me?”

You searched his face. He sounded like he was about to cry. You couldn’t quite see his entire face, but his eyes shone, bright with liquid. You went toward him.

“You hurt me Chris. I couldn’t stay. But let me take care of you now.”

You got on your knees in front of him, the hard concrete of the parking structure digging into your knees.

Again, you welcomed the physical pain, distracting you from what you were doing to Kevin, to Chris, and to yourself.

Chris felt like he could fly. You on your knees for him again was a dream.

He took his cock in his hand, stroking it, while moving close to you. In no time, the back of your head was in his palm, and you opened wide to accept him, hand coming up to stroke what you couldn’t fit.

“Ah, ah. Let me.”

You looked up at him to see an evil grin shine down on you.

Chris looked down on an angel trying to swallow him whole. He brushed the tears away from your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You were perfection.

Moaning around him, you relaxed your mouth and throat and let him use you. It was difficult, because you were out of practice, but you welcomed the letting go of all thought.

You dripped down your thighs as Chris pumped into you, ready to accept what he had to give.

After a few minutes, he stopped, and pulled out, grabbing you up to your feet.

Then he bent down and grabbed you by the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him and trying to grind down on his still-erect cock as he backed you to the car.

Your ass hit the hood, and Chris reached between you to first tear your panties off. He put them in his pocket as he swiped his dick up and down your dripping wet folds.

He looked back up to watch your face as he pushed inside you, now, an easier path to nirvana.

He pulsed as he watched the pleasure take over your face, with your mouth slack and your eyes glassed over. This was his main purpose in life and he almost lost it.

He brought his hand up to bring you closer, breathed into your mouth as he squeezed your throat. You were high instantly, and clamped down on his cock as your body was wracked with waves of pleasure.

Chris let your body descend back down to the car as he pumped his seed into you, his mind fantasizing that he was impregnating you.

He shook your body as the last ropes of cum spurted out of him. He ran his hand down your body as he pulled out, zipping up his pants as you came back to your senses on the hood of the car.

You stared at the stars as you realized what you had done. You sat up and adjusted your dress, gingerly climbing back down to the ground.

Chris kissed you on the forehead, and this time you let him get into the driver’s seat. You got in the passenger side and Chris reached into the glovebox and handed you some wet wipes.

“Fix your face. And your knees.”

He nodded down to your legs, which were dirty from the parking structure floor. He watched you wipe your knees off, but stopped you as you went higher.

“No. I want you to feel me all night long.”

You wanted to be a brat, but you didn’t feel like sass right about now. You felt kinda terrible.

You got another wet wipe and fixed your makeup as best you could as Chris drove you back to the restaurant.

“Chris, I…”

“I know. None of that meant that we’re back together. That was for some kind of something, I dunno, something Kevin might have done?”

You looked down, ashamed. Chris lifted your chin up with his hand.

“I want you to come to me on your own. You’ve gotten that out of your system, and I’m glad to be of service.” You looked up into his eyes and at his wry smile.

“But remember, you still have a choice. I’m here if you choose me.”

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss in front of the restaurant.

You smiled at him and climbed out of the car, watching as he drove off.

Chris’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched you turn and go back inside. He fought the urge to turn around. It was better this way.

----

You walked in the restaurant, and pulled Kevin over to the side of the restaurant in dark alcove.

“Listen. Do you still want to marry me?”

He looked you up and down, taking in your state, from the faint marks on your neck to your scuffed knees. He knew exactly what was up.

You raised an eyebrow at him.

-----

Three hours later, a sleepy Chris answered the doorbell in Brooklyn.

He smiled at you, in the Captain America t-shirt and jeans that you’d stolen from him after a photoshoot, looking like his favorite Disney princess. You.

You took him in, clad in grey sweatpants that hung off his magnificently cut body. He blinked at you sleepily.

“The wedding is off. Chris, I….”

He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you in the brownstone and shutting the door behind you. He had you pinned up against the wall as you tried to speak.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”

You grinned and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you upstairs.

---

The next morning, Chris was on the phone with Scott.

“Yes, tell the workers at the warehouse to dump all the products….I don’t care, the river, the landfill…. Y/N can’t find out that I bought up all her stock…. We’re going to be married..... I know what the fuck I’m doing Scott. We leave for Aruba this afternoon. Listen, I’ll call you later.”

Chris hung up and turned to find you in the doorway, frowning and rubbing your eyes.

“We’re going to Aruba?”

You smiled and yawned, sleepily stretching. That was all that you’d heard of the conversation.

Chris gave you his stunner smile.

“Yes. It was going to be a surprise.”

He reached down and swung you up in his arms, carrying you into the bathroom bridal style.

“Now let’s get in the shower. You’ve been very naughty, gotta get you clean for your wedding day.”

You giggled as you relaxed in Chris’s arms. “It takes two to be naughty, Chris.”

He winked at you as he turned on the shower. “Don’t I know it.”

-----

I know it’s different. Let me know if you like it. Like, comment, reblog!

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fluffywolverine · 3 years

Text

so season 6 of lucifer came out.

there were some things that i liked, but generally i hated it. i believe that was SUCH. BAD. WRITING and it left me frustrated. so i decided to write down all things that pissed me off and sometimes i try to fix this by giving other ideas that – in my opinion – would have made the story better. Check my points out and feel free to add your points of view. without further ado: let’s talk.

- imma start with the big one – fucking time travel. ok I generally hate this trope in the media, because it’s complicated and often leads to some logical mistakes – and they happened here. so rory time travels because of her anger which was caused… by her anger?? i think this was unnecessary. it also brings trouble with this whole free will vs. fate discourse. lucifer says, that he chooses free will… but at the same time he goes the path of his fate. he disappears from rory’s life, because he HAS TO in order of the events of the season to happen. just because he chose to do it, doesn’t mean it’s free will.

- lucifer becomes the very thing he desperately didn’t want to become. “bUt It WaS fOr ThE gReAtEr GoOd” screw this bullshit, if writers wanted to make it better, they could have easily do so. they could have altered the rules of time travel so that his choice of staying could have resulted in rory disappearing. yes, that would have been heart-breaking, but it would have been a great lesson for lucifer, that he can’t make the same mistakes his father did.

- chloe and Lucifer get a child without even talking about it. “bUt MaYbE tHeY tAlKeD aBoUt It We JuSt DiDn’T sEe It” you may say. but the point of writing anything - whether it’s a book or a script – is to show any thing that matters. and talking about having kids is one of the most things any couple should do. also not every couple needs to have kids and forcing deckerstar to have it feels so far-fetched. this thread was very unnecessary.

- rory herself is a big problem. to begin with – she wanted to KILL her FATHER. i get her frustration, but commiting a murder?? just because he wasn’t there for her?? I would have thought that chloe taught her better, taught her that, like, killing people is bad. turns out she did not. secondly… she just isn’t necessary here. i elaborate later so in conclusion – her thread could be altered with michael’s and it would have made much more sense. i also don’t like the actress (why was she blinking so much??) so i certainly didn’t help.

- of course ella has to end up with a boyfriend. because earlier she always ended up with “bad boys” and now, without any help, she is just able to have a healthy relationship! yay! for me this creates a toxic view, that in order to be happy one HAS TO be in a relationship, because being alone is aLwAyS bAd. well, it’s not.

- i also have troubles with lucifer starting up a foundation for her. firstly, he didn’t ask her. secondly it – AGAIN – shows, that anything good ella got, was because of another man. firstly because of her relationship with carol, secondly because of lucifer’s idea. it could have been so easily altered! there could have been a scene of a conversation e.g. with amenadiel where she expressed a will to do better and be better for someone (given that she sees a lot of dark in herself). amenadiel could have then told her, that she is an inspiration and that it is her biggest strength. that could have been where ella came up with an idea to start a foundation blah blah – it’s just a rough idea but I believe that written well, it could have been so much better;

- and the last thing about ella – of course she had to find out about celestial stuff because sHe WaS tHe OnLy OnE rEmAiNiNg. umm what about trixie? i'll come back to her later. ella was portrayed as the only one believing in god and having her seeing that he really exists ruins the concept of faith. it’s not about knowing something exists, it’s about believing in it.

- WHERE THE FUCK IS MICHAEL. i must admit that i loved this character AND I CAN’T STAND HOW AWFULLY HE WAS TREATED HERE. so at the end of season 5 lucifer says “everyone deserves a second chance, even you michael". and what does he do then? COMMANDS HIS TWIN TO CLEAR THE FLOOR IN HELL. yes, i agree that michael should have been punished for his rebellion plan, but… he already has his wing cut off. now he’s stuck in hell, with no way out and is he supposed to learn his lesson? this is cruel. instead of this the entire season could have been centred on him – his journey to self-acceptance, learning how manipulating someone is toxic and starting to realise how to be a better person. at the end he could have become god (because amenadiel is such an obvious choice), which would create a beautiful connection – michael in heaven and his twin in hell.

- lucifer doesn’t feel like being god and that’s cool. damn. people died for him to win this place and he’s like “actually you know guys i’m not the right person bye”. while i believe that anyone should step out if they have a reason, but at the same time lucifer should have faced any consequences of his decisions. falling frog and kool aid in the river are not enough.

- adam’s plot feels just quickly sketched, not actually written. i really appreciate this take on toxic masculinity but it all felt too fast-paced. it’s good that they show this idea of “strong and not-showing-any-feelings man” kind of attitude, but it is impossible for ANYONE (especially The ManTM) to change their mind in a matter of a few days. it takes weeks, months, years even, especially given that adam is like a gazillion years old, he should have especially taken a long time to process this.

- carol is just too pure to exist. he’s also one of the most boring, plain and one-dimensional character i’ve ever seen. i feel like they gave him a problem with alcohol because the writers were like “hmmmmm he has to have some weakness. LET’S MAKE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC”. we don’t see any signs of his everyday struggle, why did he fell into this problem, how did struggle. it just feels like a dull plot device to show that he has flaws. oh and also he’s so pure that he doesn’t mind ella BREAKING INTO HIS HOUSE. acceptance should have boundaries and violating someone’s personal space isn’t right.

- why did they forget about trixie again? yes, i know that scarlett estevez had another project but this does not justify the bad writing. the girl lost her father and we only see her crying once because of that. no signs of this affecting her everyday life, not showing any consequences of her relationships with other people, not glimpse of any change in her behaviour. oh and also she loses lucifer too because time travel! great idea, writers! losing another close to her person would have been soooooo good for her psychic for sure.

- i also hate the idea that suddenly rory becomes the only child they care for. where is trixie when they spend their day on the beach? where is she when her mother dies? did writers forget about her as well as they did about michael?

- amenadiel being a police officer is… problematic. i was looking forward to this thread, i was kinda scared too and it turned out… meh. i’m white and not American, so this of course does not involve me at all, but i felt like this was not enough. harris basically said that there is nothing they can do to make it better for black folks. even though chloe and amenadiel want to make everything more just, we don’t actually see any change. the only thing is that harris becomes a detective (right? i’m not sure if i understood it correctly, so correct me if i’m wrong, please) which is a total contradiction of what she said before. suddenly she does not have to protect people anymore?

- in season 5 they stated that heaven and hell need to be fixed, as the system is unfair and unjust. at the end we don’t see any change, the only thing that is different is lucifer helping damned souls. it doesn’t help at all! these people still go to hell, they still suffer and there’s nothing that changed here! plus there is also this thing, that a sociopath who murdered people in cold blood goes to heaven (because he does not feel any guilt) and a person abused by her parents/partner/whoever goes to hell (because have been manipulated to feel guilt).

- dan making amends with trixie while… there wasn’t really anything to make amends about. like, most of the parents make mistakes while upbringing their children, but does this make them unworthy of heaven? i would have preferred dan to slowly regain his self-consciousness, how he positively affected the lives of people around him and by doing so – through conversations or maybe reliving some of the memories, he could have proved to himself that he is worthy of love and redemption.

phew, what a ride. i really liked dan being reunited with charlotte (it went just as i imagined) and mazeve dynamics. i even felt like they are finally a real life relationship – with people hurting each other by not understanding each other, but then talking and seeing other’s perspective. generally though, i’m very disappointed.

sorry for any mistakes, lacking commas etc. writing a text this long in not my native language was not easy.

#lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer spoilers #lucifer season 6

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swtki · 3 years

Text

My Game - Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Teachers Pet

SUMMARY: After Y/Ns little test, she takes Dr. Reid up on his offer. She also takes him back to the apartment.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SMUT, FEM READER, PROFFESOR-STUDENT, TEACHER REID, ORAL (FEMALE RECIEVING), PENATRATIVE SEX, SEMI DOM-SUB

It had been three days since Dr. Reid emailed me. I hadn’t texted him yet, too afraid of not knowing what to say. When I pulled that little stunt at his desk, I expected nothing to come of it. Just seeing his cute and pink face was enough of a reward. But it was obvious to me in the days following, he wanted to cross his finish line.

My phone sat comfortably in my hands, the series of numbers lining the top of my screen. I had not an inkling of an idea of what I would say. Should I go casual? Professional? Sexy? I mean, did anyone ever know how to aproach their crush?

Y: It’s Y/N, sorry I took so long. I’ve been kinda busy.

S: No worries, I was beginning to think I had read the room incorrectly. What are your plans for Saturday night? Theres a great Italian restaurant next to where I’m staying in DC.

Y: That sounds wonderful, actually. I’ll meet you there at 7?

S: Perfect.

I reluctantly pulled my figure from the sofa, and soon eagerly jumping into the shower. When the water hit my face the entire day melted away, and left only the anticipation of that night. I felt so special, I mean I was living my most vivid fantasies and not every woman gets to do it with a genius professor.

With my makeup carefully applied, and my dress matching my shoes, I started down the stairs. As my heels made a clicking noise, I started to feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. I was nervous; First date nervous. Though I had met him many times, and most recently met his body with mine, the event of a first date was a pâté of emotions.

The door of the restaurant was cold against my hand. I didn’t expect a high end dining experience, and when I walked in the entry way I was glad it wasn’t. The entry way was filled with cozy items. The faded rose pattern on the wallpaper complimented the display of family photos.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a tall brunette man, it was a table for two.” I said to the hostess. She paused for a second, tapping on her tablet as she checks the current table descriptions.

“Ah yes, party of two for Reid?”

I confirmed and she led me through a hallway to our left, which led into a small dining area. The room walls were a burgundy color, illuminated by the candle sitting at the head of each table.

I thanked the woman as I walked toward Spencer. He looked a tad bit cleaner than usual, his hair was combed and tucked away behind his ears.

“Oh, here let me get that for you.” He rose from his seat and rushed over to the chair across from him.

“How gentleman like, Doctor.” He laughed and we both took our seats.

“Please, call me Spencer.” His form was more relaxed than it usually was in class, giving him a calmer and peaceful demeanor.

Dinner progressed, a glass of wine was nursed, and he insisted on paying our check. Though I had been on dates before, this felt like my first real adult date.

“How did you get here?” He inquired as we stepped onto the rough parking lot terrain.

“I took a cab, I’m thinking I may catch the train though.” I said. His mouth spread into a displeased expression.

“Nonsense, please let me drive you home. I would hate for those statistics we learned last week be applied in this manor.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I hesitated to answer for a moment, instinctually I looked down and shifted my weight on my feet. The thought of him driving me home could end up in a number of ways; Mostly good. But, if I did take the train, it would end in a few ways; Mostly unmentionable.

“Alright, since you asked nicely.” His cheeks grew red as he avoided eye contact with me. I knew right then where our night would likely head.

“Would you like to come up? We can have a drink if you aren’t hell-bent on going to sleep before nine-thirty.” I joked with him.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything because I know that theres a certain expectation when-“

“Spencer, if I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t have asked you up.”

Sure, having to say it in blatant terms is less than sexy, but thats what I adored about our dynamic at that point; I led the relationship.

I leaned into my fridge, purposefully bending over so my skirt lifted to show my ass.

“Well...fuck,” I said, “As it would turn out, someone stole my wine bottle and filled my fucking vodka bottle with water.” I stood up and shut the door, walking over to the counter inches away.

“One time I took the drink turn when it came to our friend-team-dinner-night, the bottle was forty dollars, which granted is the cheap wine more or less. To this day I still have no idea who stole the bottle, because I wanted to take it home.” Spencer reminisced. I laughed at his unusual way of trying to understand.

“Wasn’t really mine to begin with,” I started walking over to the sofa where he patiently sat. “I’m not of legal drinking age. But of course it tastes better when its forbidden, everything does.” I stepped in front of the man, his knees only an inch from my shin. "Can I touch you, Spencer?” I said in a soft voice, the lids of my eyes relaxed in a sweet shift.

“Y-yes.” He gasped, obviously so turned on by the way I stood over him, in power of him. I threaded his hair through my fingers and tugged back, pushing his head as far up as I could. His eyelids fell and he was no longer looking at me.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see everything.” He opened his eyes, his irises were colored with lust and desperation. I connected our lips in a long a sweet kiss. Rather than just having a mess of tongues, the kiss was filled to the brim with emotion, of pleasure that this was happening again. His lips were slightly swollen when I pulled away to unbutton his shirt. While I fiddled with the garment, he put his hands on my hips firmly.

“Can I- can you sit on my lap?” he asked, a red tint forming on his face. I smiled and obliged, sliding his shirt off of his lean torso. I started kissing him once more, this time I made sure to press my dripping panties against the large tent in his trousers.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” I ask,hands resting comfortably on his neck.

“Please”, I stood and laced our hands together, leading him to my bedroom. Once we both entered through the doorway, I pushed him onto the bed, he fell softly.

I reached my hands behind my back to unzip my dress, as I felt it fall past my legs and onto the floor, I saw his eyes scan every detail of my body.

“One might say you were planning this.” He eyed my matching lace set.

“Wanted to make sure Spencer Reid had the best.” I replied, climbing on top of him so that I would be straddling him. I felt his hands connect to my waist as we kissed, his hands were warm and excited me even more. He pulled away, quickly pressing his lips to my neck and collarbone. My breath hitched in my throat as he bit down lightly on the skin. “Lets get these off, shall we?” I motioned to his pants, which had to be killing him right now. While he does that, I reach into my drawer and retrieve a condom, laying against the plush material of my pillows after I set it down on the table.

He gets on top of me , pressing his lips with mine as he rubs the back of my bra, signaling he wants me to take it off. I ,of course, reach back and unhook it, tossing it onto the floor. He grabs my tit while dancing his tongue with mine, making me more wet than I thought was possible. Usually, these actions signified a need for control, but when Spencer did it, it was like a desperate sixteen year old boy. Its clear he needed me.

“Can I...” he nods down to my cunt, still covered by the thin material of my panties.

“Can you what, Spencer?” I lace my fingers in his hair and pull, earning a soft groan from the man hovering over me.

“Can I please eat you out?” He begged. I smiled and pushed his head down, spreading my legs when his face met my stomach. He started by taking his thumb and rubbing over my clothed pussy. I bucked my hips, desperate for more friction. “Is it okay for me to take these off?” His eyes met mine, searching for confirmation. I smiled and nodded, moving my hands to stroke his hair rather than tug at it.

As his fingers latched onto the last piece of fabric that covered me, instinctually I pushed my hips upwards. He looked at me, silently asking if taking the garment off was still okay. When I bit my lip, a rose hue covered his face. He was flustered by me, by the escalation of us. But nevertheless, he slowly pulled off the last piece of modesty I had.

To re-assure him, I lightly tugged at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and licked a long stripe on my clit. My voice was caught in my throat as he continued making flat-tongued movements. I felt his hands slowly wrap around my thighs, pushing my heat into his face more than it already was.

He devoured me without hesitation, but when he pulled away for air he replaced it with two fingers and then when my stomach tensed and my eyes rolled back into my head, he used three. I finished with his mouth sucking on my bundle of nerves and his fingers buried inside me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He raised his head up and his thumb stroked my thigh, which he was still grasped onto.

“Yes, God yes please, Spencer.” I whined, the high fading away. He stood up off the bed and removed his strained boxers. He was beautiful; His lanky form was now a lean masculine type. I smiled at him, to which he obviously thought he was being laughed at. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, resulting to the floor instead. “Spencer,” I crawled towards the edge of my bed and placed my hands on his shoulders, “You are so gorgeous, the reason I’m smiling is because you always hide it in those sweater vests.” he relaxed.

“Thanks” he mumbles, still avoiding my eyes.

“Now please, come back here and let me take care of you.” He climbed back onto the bed while I rested against the pillows. He was nervous, and obviously he wanted to do it right. I could see his hands shaking as he unwrapped the condom and put it on.

“You’re sure?” He asks, the tip of his cock resting on the top of my inner thigh. He was easily six inches, my hand could probably wrap around and be too small.

“Yes, please fuck me.” He slowly inserted himself into my dripping cunt, causing me to let out a lewd string of words. Once again, my hands flung to his hair and tugged harshly, causing his arms to almost buckle beneath his own weight. I could feel his pelvis against mine, his muscular bottom torso pressed up against my clit. “Move, baby, its okay.” I reassure him. His hips pull away from mine, then snap back with a nice pressure. He quickly started to pick up his pace, small grunts escaping through his clenched jaw. “Do you like the feeling of your pathetic little cock inside my cunt? I bet you feel like a special little bitch now.” I moaned into his ear. “Well, are you going to tell me how much you enjoy my cunt?”.

“God, yes! I love it so fucking-“ his moan paused the sentence and he focused on getting his movements right.

“So fucking what? Go on, finish the sentence baby.”

“So fucking good, I love being inside of you so much!” He was practically whimpering in pleasure.

“Be a good boy and make me cum all over that pretty little cock of yours?” I struggled to contain my moans, I could not fall apart this quickly.

“Yes I will!” His fingers reached down to rub my clit, impressively keeping a steady rhythm. I felt the knot in my stomach becoming hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by.

“Oh my god, such a good- oh my god!” my eyes rolled back into my head as the impact of my orgasm was full forced. When my head cleared, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head so he could look me in the eye. “Gonna cum soon? Are you going to cum all inside of me?” his thrusts got off beat, he was close.

“Yes, I’m gonna-“

“Ask permission to cum, Spencer.”

“Can I please cum inside of you? Please?” He whines.

“Of course you can, baby.” With that he makes a strained moaning noise and his hips slowly stop moving. We’re both panting, while he flushes the condom I walk into the bathroom next to him. I turn to the shower and twist the hot water knob.

“We might as well get clean together, yeah?” I said.

“Yeah.” he smiles and kisses me once more.

270 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

sonder

pairing: taehyung x reader (exes au) summary: sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. or

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

word count: 3459 warnings: alcohol, smut (penetrative sex, oral f receiving, tae is possessive for like half a second, some tears) a/n: inspired by these pictures of taehyung. also if this feels rushed, that was on purpose- i wanted to make them kinda messy

Your second whiskey of the evening burns something bitter in the back of your throat, but you welcome it. It’s a welcome respite from the shitty week you’ve had, but that’s besides the point.

One of your favorite things to do to unwind after a tough week is to people watch, and one of your favorite places to do so was at the bars near your apartment. You liked to create vivid stories for these people that walked through the bar- who they were, what their backstories were. It was an amusing game to you, and even if both Yoongi and Hobi told you that you needed a better hobby, you’d only scoff at them.

Speaking of, Yoongi was supposed to be joining you soon. But apparently he’s running late. About fifteen minutes late, according to his cryptic text from earlier:

yoongi: running late, im bringing a friend

You think nothing of it, not really. And you just sip on your whiskey, watching a pair of new faces walk through the door from your stealthy booth in the corner of the bar.

You should’ve known that when Yoongi had said he was bringing a friend, it meant Taehyung. You briefly remember Yoongi telling you that Taehyung had moved back to the city a few weeks ago.

Taehyung, who had moved away halfway across the world years ago as a novice in the art history world. Taehyung, who had broken your delicate heart and taken pieces of it with him more than five years ago.

But even so, you harbor no ill feelings towards the man. He did what he had to do, and you did as well. It’s been so long now, that he should almost be a stranger to you.

Yoongi watches the way your lips part in surprise at the sight of Taehyung- he knows there are still lingering feelings, maybe a lack of closure. Maybe something else that you don’t feel like discussing or diving into. You send him a hearty death glare his way but Yoongi ignores it.

You and Taehyung are nothing if not stubborn. Taehyung hasn’t stopped asking about you since he moved back to the city.

After all, you’ve hardly dated since Taehyung broke up with you. You had sincerely, genuinely believed that he was your one and only, your forever. It just hadn’t felt right, not with anyone else. So you just stopped, not wanting to force love with people if your heart really wasn’t in it.

And now, Taehyung is standing in front of you, dressed in expensive black from head to toe, looking as if he had just walked off of the runway before meeting up with Yoongi. His hair is longer than you ever remembered it being, two small silver hoops in his ears.

Handsome. He looks healthy and warm. He looks good.

You clear your throat and wave at both of them, opening your arms for a hug. Yoongi’s hug is brief, you see the man at least once or twice a week, but you pinch his waist for ambushing you like this. You gasp softly when Taehyung wraps his arms around you. You’d apparently forgotten how his body just fits into yours. Even after all this time.

It truly hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into your hair. You should pull away, you really should. You can’t even meet Yoongi’s eyes, too bewitched by the hold that Taehyung somehow still has on you.

You feel as though your heart is running a mile a minute, and yet it feels like you’re greeting an old friend after a long time.

“Taehyung,” You say softly, his name sounding like a ghost of a memory, “It’s been a long time.”

You sit in your booth and Taehyung sits next to Yoongi. It feels like three old friends catching up after a while, not like if two exes are sitting with their mutual best friend trying not to catch glimpses of the other.

You take a sip of your drink with shaky hands. It’s going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, Yoongi claims that Hoseok has an emergency and that he has to go. You think he planned this (both him and Hobi), because there’s a meddling glint in his eye that you haven’t seen recently.

You panic, scrambling to somehow get Yoongi to stay, so that you’re not alone with Taehyung. You’re afraid of what you might do or say. Or for what you might not do or say.

And yet, talking to him comes like second nature. Maybe it’s because you have years of history between the both of you, even if you haven’t spoken in the last five.

It hurt so much. When he broke up with you, you mourned the loss of your best friend. He had said you could try to be friends, but you couldn’t handle it at the time. And then more time went by… and suddenly, he was barely a thought in your passing mind. Yet, he still lingered, in your mannerisms. Maybe some part of you was still waiting on him. Which wasn’t healthy… But it wasn’t hurting anyone. And besides, you were okay. But you had never really believed in soulmates until Taehyung. Perhaps it was the lack of closure.

At least that’s what you convinced yourself, because seeing Taehyung like this, laughing and talking to you as if no time has past throws you for a loop.

Mainly because… it’s so easy to fall into conversation with him. It’s so easy to laugh with him and make him laugh. You enjoy learning about everything he’s been up to over the last few years, all of his adventures, the sights he’s seen. How enthusiastic he is, how he finds beauty in everything.

You both had always been such good friends. Maybe that’s what you miss more than anything. Somehow, hours go by and you both are left to be the only ones in the bar-

“Hey what brought you here to begin with?” Taehyung asks, holding the door open for you, “Had a bad day? You still like people watching?”

“Yeah,” You say wistfully, “Something like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. You catch his eyes in the streetlights and feel your heart swell.

Even if it’s been more than five years since you saw Taehyung last, since you felt his fingers thread in between yours… it still feels so familiar. It’s funny, isn’t it? How so much time can go by, how you can be strangers on paper but feel like you’ve known his soul for this entire time.

His smile glows in the moonlight. A light breeze cradles him, carding through his dark strands of hair gently. You can vividly recall a time when it was you- your fingers running through his hair through soft laughs and unkept promises.

You wonder if your heart is still his, after all this time. It’s not as if you’ve had many people to compare your all-consuming five year relationship to in the last few years. Every person you met, you found yourself comparing to your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t healthy.

And you had known that he had moved on from your own mutual friends. You don’t even know if he’s single right now, but you knew he was in a relationship a year ago… Or maybe two? Maybe you should care a little more, but you’ll blame it on the whiskey for causing you to squeeze his hand a little harder and lean into him.

Taehyung looks exactly the same, he feels exactly the same as he did when you were twenty-two and stupid enough to believe that you would make it. He’s always felt like he fit the messy edges of your soul perfectly, and even now, you feel that familiar warmth of his soul rubbing up against yours.

Even as he’s chatting away, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness, you’re hardly listening. You’re only thinking about how nice he feels next to you.

Serendipity. It must be serendipity, for him to show up in your life again when you had been teetering on the edge of misery and self-deprecation. Your head is jumbled, brain filled with nothing but sweet memories of him and your heart is aching for something you might never have again.

But all you have is now. So when Taehyung twirls you easily and sways with you under the dimmed light of a street lamp, pulling a surprised laugh out of you, you make your decision.

“Where’s your new big girl apartment?” Taehyung asks, a hint of longing in his tone.

“It’s not new,” You scoff, “But I live, like, five blocks away.”

Taehyung takes your hand in his again, asking you questions about your apartment. How you found it, do you like it, do you have roommates. To which you shrug and tell him that you like being alone. Something shifts in his eyes, something sad. He recalls your thirst for life when you both had been together- always ready to try something new, always wanting to be around people, always dreaming with your head in the sky.

He wonders what changed. You’re so quiet, eyes a little dark, shoulders tense. Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe that’s what tumbling out of your early twenties and into your late twenties is.

Or maybe you’ve just changed in general. It’s been a long time, after all. Since you both mutually broke up, since he moved halfway across the globe.

But still, he catches sparks, flutters of embers in your gaze. He catches the tender, playful excitement that you’ve always held near and dear to your heart- it’s what made you and him such a good team years ago.

Talking to him is so easy, not that you thought it would be difficult to begin with. It’s always been easy with him, easy to laugh with him, easy to love him.

The front door of your apartment building comes into view. Your hand is still in his. Taehyung hesitates on letting you go, but he does.

“It was nice to see you,” Taehyung murmurs, allowing himself the brush of the back of his hand on your cheekbone, “I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you, too. Even if I was stuffing my face with whiskeys,” You grin and lean into his touch, “Even if Yoongi probably played both of us.”

“Don’t know when you became such a whiskey girl.”

“It’s been years, Taehyung. I’m sure I’ve got a few more surprises for you,” You say, smile falling into something more intense, “Wanna come find out what they are?”

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

Taehyung’s lips are on yours the minute you close the door to your apartment. His hands are molded to your hips over your clothes and you instantly moan into his mouth loudly, slipping your tongue past his lips eagerly. Drinking him up as if he’s been yours to drink up this entire time.

You fumble with the buttons of his peacoat, nearly ready to yank the buttons off. Patience has never been your strong suit, but you just want to feel him.

But the minute you pull away for air, you re-center yourself. No matter how enticing his bitten lips are…

“Are you single?” You ask bluntly.

“Why?” Taehyung says with an arch of his stupidly perfect eyebrow, “You falling in love with me again?”

“Shut up, you wish. I thought you had a girlfriend,” You say pointedly, toeing out of your heels and hanging your jackets up in the coat closet.

“You keeping tabs on me? I knew it,” Taehyung says, looking a little too smug about it.

“Shut the fuck up,” You swat his chest, “Yoongi may have mentioned it to me once or twice.”

More like he told you multiple times when you were drunk, wasted and crying over Taehyung because you never truly got over him. In some corner of the deepest part of your heart, you never got over him.

“I’m not dating anyone. Or talking, seeing anyone,” Taehyung shrugs, “That didn’t work out. Nothing’s really worked out, not since…”

“Don’t say it,” You mutter, “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

You need another drink. So you pour yourself another hefty glass of whiskey and pour one out for him, too.

“What am I about to say?”

“And if it’s true?”

“Then I’m definitely kicking you out. Might need another five years to see you again,” You whisper. He moves closer to you, tentatively holding your hips in his. You don’t push him away, only looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes into your hair, wrapping you in a hug, “You have no idea. And you? Are you single?”

“No, you missed the idea of me. Of us,” You mumble, but you’re unable to pull out of his hold, “We were young, we had dreams… And yeah, I’m single.”

“We could’ve made it work-”

“Taehyung, stop it,” You mutter, throat going dry with barely concealed yearning for him, “We both made the choices we made for a reason. You’re here and I’m here for a reason. Don’t wanna talk about what if’s with you anymore. Just kiss me, Taehyung-”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, cupping your face in his big hands and pressing his soft lips to yours instantly. Time feels like nothing between you both, but it feels like he’s trying to learn this new version of you through your kiss.

You’re undecided on whether this is a one time thing, but all you know is that you want him. And you want him now. His hands are warm over your thighs as he lifts you up in his arms, your chest plastered to his. His hair has gotten longer, dark strands effortlessly falling into his forehead.

He’s so handsome and you swoon when his lips press against your neck. Taehyung still remembers what you like, what your favorite spots are.

It’s almost as if no time has passed. You both ignore it, ignore the nostalgia creeping into the crevices of your kisses.

“Mmm, my bedroom’s that way,” You mumble hoarsely, pulling away with hooded eyes.

“You’ll have to give me a proper tour later,” Taehyung says, his voice somehow even deeper.

“Yeah, you’d be so lucky,” You snort and Taehyung shuts you up with another searing kiss. He doesn’t miss the meticulous way you’ve decorated your cozy home, pops of color and decorations that are so very you in every corner. He sees a small photo collage in the corner of your bedroom.

Once upon a time, a photo of you and him would’ve been the crown jewel.

“Tae,” You mumble, “Stop, focus on me. I want you-”

So he does.

Your legs close around Taehyung’s head, his tongue slipping into your glossy folds for the third time that evening. He can’t get enough of your soft noises, even when you’re telling him it’s too much, you widen your legs for him to slot in between them easily. Taehyung hikes your legs over his shoulder, nearly rutting into the bed at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and the way your tits bounce.

He palms you lewdly, squeezing and pinching. “You’re so wet,” Taehyung moans into your pussy, “Fuck, baby-”

“Taehyung,” You breathe, voice sounding broken even to your own ears, “I want you, I want your cock…”

“You sure you want this?” Taehyung asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Do you?”

With a nod, “Do you have condoms?” He rasps, nose nudging your clit.

“Y-yeah,” You moan, “The nightstand, first drawer. Brand new box, never before used-”

“Really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time, baby?”

“The last time what,” You whine, tugging on his forearm.

“Last time you had sex,” Taehyung says, pulling the box out from your nightstand.

“Uhhh… when you broke up with me?” You shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Shit,” He groans, “Seriously?”

You don’t miss how he palms himself over his pants at your words. He’s always had a hint of possessiveness in him, and you already know that he’s trying to process that the last person, the only person to have ever seen you like this was him.

“Yeah, I didn’t have luck the way you did, I guess,” You say lightly, “Not that I was trying very hard, though.”

“Damn, baby, nobody’s been loving you right, huh?” Taehyung says, pulling out a condom from the box with shaky hands.

“Yeah. Not even you,” You say. Maybe that was mean, but his eyes flash at you in warning.

“Come here,” He says, a soft demand, “Did you miss me?”

You shrug playfully and unbutton his pants for him. He swats your roaming hands away and they land on his belly, your nails scratching lazily. Taehyung has always looked like a vision, but seeing him like this, hovering above you with golden, tanned skin and his jaw locked, looking every bit like the man of your dreams...

He commands, demands respect. Your pussy throbs just from the sight of him shucking off his pants and his boxers in one go, tugging his hard and heavy cock roughly with one hand.

You swear you drool. Your head is empty, only thoughts of him, his big hands, broad shoulders-

“Did you miss me, baby,” Taehyung asks again, voice a little rougher, a little harsher.

“Does it matter,” You challenge him, “You only want my pussy-”

“And you only want my cock-”

“So give it to me then. Since you know me so well,” You sneer. You gasp in surprise when he swats your thigh and then moan his name when he pushes the head of his cock into you without much warning.

“You talk so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes, cupping your cheeks with one hand.

“Shit,” You gasp, “You’re so fucking big-”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Taehyung stills inside of you, giving you time to adjust to him. He peppers sweet kisses over your forehead, a contrast to his previous words. You cannot believe that somehow, Taehyung is back in your bed, his cock buried deep within you.

The thought makes your eyes water. You’re a little overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong,” Taehyung asks when he sees your wet eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nothing, you’re just so big,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes. Taehyung looks at you suspiciously but says nothing.

He’s the only one who’s ever had you like this. The thought makes something in his belly flare, the urge to leave bruises on your welcoming hips and pound into your wet pussy growing and growing with each second.

But he doesn’t move, not until you give him the okay. Taehyung’s fingers are tight around your hips, loose around your neck, his lips plastered to any inch of skin he can reach. With the first rock of his hips into you, you wrap your legs around his waist and shudder in his arms.

He nuzzles your neck, chest plastered against yours. Your nails are tightly pressed into his biceps, surely leaving marks for tomorrow morning. Your soft cries of his name sound like sweet rapture, something he’s been searching for for years. Or something that he had and something he let go of.

And then he wonders how he ever spent the last few years not buried in your pussy, when you feel something like home to him.

“You know, I moved back here a few weeks ago,” Taehyung says, turning on his side to face you, hands gentle over your chest.

“Oh, I know. Yoongi and Hobi wouldn’t shut up about it. They really missed you,” You reply, not meeting his eyes.

“And you? Did you?” Taehyung asks again. You hesitate.

“Does it matter, Taehyung?” You mumble, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “Does it change anything?”

“It could. If you wanted it to,” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest. His fingers are light over your spine, but you scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You sigh, pressing your hand to his face.

He only laughs with his big, bright smile and pulls you in closer, kissing your forehead. “I can leave you know. If you want me to. If this is... weird.”

“I think we’re way past weird, Taehyung. If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve kicked you out by now,” You say easily and ignore the way his smile sends unfamiliar butterflies through your belly, “Go to sleep. I’ll decide if I wanna kick you out in the morning.”

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fic

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sunlightwoo · 3 years

Text

Spring Snow

☀︎ pairing: spy!sunwoo x reader

☀︎ genre: spy-au, warning: mentions of death & blood, angst, but there is a happy ending :)

☀︎wc: 2.7k

☀︎ plot: It was pure coincidence that the boy you always caught eyes with at the cafe happened to be on days that it snowed. However you knew that he was someone that you couldn’t find yourself being with, because he was someone that you should’ve stayed away from in the first place.

☀︎ a/n: i’m not gonna lie, i struggled writing this for weeks cause i wasn’t sure how i wanted to go with the idea for it, however i did like how this kinda ended up being even though i suck at endings hehe. anyways, happy march everyone!! i hope you’re all ready for the sunwoo angst that i have yet to provide :)

[ gina is listening to: end of spring - onewe ]

COLLAB MASTERLIST | MY TBZ MASTERLIST

There was snow today, you took note of mentally, as you stared out the window with curiosity in your eyes. You weren’t sure what it had meant as it was already mid March and well into the season of spring, as the flurries of snow continued to fall from the sky. Sitting by your window with your thoughts jumbled in your mind, you listen to the small silence that was filling into your room, just seconds before it was interrupted by someone knocking on your door frame.

“Are you going to stay cooped up in here, or are you actually going to leave for class soon?”

The owner of the sarcastic statement happened to be your best friend and roommate, Hyunjae, asks and he gives you an intrigued look on his face just as his arms were crossed over his chest. For as long as you can remember, he had always been the one to bring you out of the thoughts that made you occupy the window for hours on end.

“They were all canceled today because my professors didn’t want to teach while it snowed.” You reply, giving him a small smile and he gives you a jokingly exasperated look before walking over to hand you an envelope that was in his hand.

You look up at him in confusion, unsure of what was on the note knowing that on the outside was an unfamiliar handwriting that was sprawled on it with your name on it. Without any return addresses or a name to go with it, you carefully take the envelope into your hands and examine it closely just as you were able to smell a familiar scent of cologne that overtakes your senses.

Had it already been that long?

“It’s been two years, Y/N.” Hyunjae whispers quietly as he takes a seat right where your feet were currently resting as you knew what he had meant by that, and it was all because you were too scared to face the inevitable that you had created back then.

You continued to stare at the envelope when you held it up to your nose slightly and could smell the stronger scent of the cologne easily wafting up to your nose as the semi-sloppy handwriting that was sprawled on the cover brought back the nostalgia of the first time that you had met him. From that moment then you recalled meeting him whenever it had started to snow in the middle of spring, up until that one day that you decided to leave first before he could even do it.

“I thought I told you both that I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. There’s nothing left for me to talk or solve.” You whispered softly before holding out the envelope back for Hyunjae to take when he gives you an appointed look on his face.

“Don’t you want to read it for closure?”

Your last encounter with the owner of the letter wasn’t as graceful as you wanted it to be, remembering the yelling and arguments that came from both sides of the party that one night. The memories of that night being as clear as the moonlight that shined then was like a record playing on repeat, and you hated how much you often thought about it despite the fact that you had moved on from those precise moments.

“No. I hate him, and want nothing to do with Kim Sunwoo.”

A lie that you often told yourself for two years since you first witnessed him leave past the front door of your old apartment complex.

And just like that, he became a flower that had yet to blossom in the snowing spring.

It was the year of 2017 when you had first found the quiet little cafe that had been closeby the apartment that you moved into for the new college that you had transferred to. Being ready to start the next two to three years of your life getting your bachelors degree and experience, you thought that you were finally at peace with yourself when you noticed that it had begun to snow mid-March when you had moved in.

You recall how quiet your neighborhood was that twentieth day of March, and after putting on a warm coat and your newly made keys for the apartment, you decided to check out the cafe on your own in attempts to find something to warm you up. Entering the cafe, however, felt like you were welcomed with a new sense of warm that had yet to envelope you like you were entering another territory of heaven.

The smell of rich coffee beans and freshly baked goods filled your nose as your eyes had already found purchase on the menu that was right across your peripheral vision and it amused you how delicious everything sounded. You remember ordering a cup of hot chocolate and a warm melted chocolate chip cookie that day making it your regular order, only changing it on occasions that you were in a rush or in need of a sudden burst of energy.

But you remember when you had first seen him that day, and you often thought about whether or not you regret that very moment every second of the day.

There was something about the way that he strode his way across that had captivated you at the time, and you were most definite that he knew you were looking at him even after you locked eyes, but that didn’t stop him from taking a seat with you. That day, the two of you had gotten to know each other and you learned his name as he did with yours.

Kim Sunwoo, you remember hearing him introduce to you that day and maybe it was the light in his eyes that sparkled which might’ve made you want to learn more about him. The memories of you both instantly clicking that day haunts you, because you remember only finding him in that cafe whenever it happened to snow in the spring, and it carried on into the next spring the year after.

“What do you even do for a living, Sunwoo? I’ve only seen you when it snows here in the spring.” You remember saying to him then, and the rest was history as you remember him asking you out the following evening after he had told you what he did.

He told you he was part of a spy group and you had gotten the pleasure to know each of the members that were in the said group that he was in. They treated you like family and you were grateful to have met them when you did, since you didn’t always grow up in the tight friend groups that people often had around them in college, however with them it felt safe.

Sunwoo had always kept you away from the dangerous spy scene, and at first you were scared with how it might’ve worked out considering your life could’ve been in danger at any given point. However, as you were dating Sunwoo and moved in with him eventually, you were more protected and you never thought of it as anything as he was always the normal guy that you had stumbled into at the cafe with secret dates in the city.

You knew that it was a dangerous living, what they always did, and you couldn’t imagine how Hyunjae could’ve been part of it for years, but somehow with him being your roommate it felt safer than being with Sunwoo. That night when it all happened two years ago could’ve been your worst night that you’ve ever had, because it was something that snowballed from pent up anger and thoughts that neither of you talked out.

It was another night where you were spending it alone at your apartment knowing that the only time you’ve ever seen Sunwoo was at the little cafe when it snowed in March because of how often he was sent on missions by Sangyeon. It was rare for him to come home, and you thought that maybe you should just leave considering you weren’t even sure of the last time that he held you properly after almost two years of dating.

“You’re overreacting, love.” He sighs to himself quietly as the rag that he just had in his hands was tossed into a laundry basket that was filled with old clothes and towels that needed to be cleaned due to the fact that they were stained with blood.

Something that he had come home more often with, and you started to hate this side of him.

“I’m overreacting? When was the last time that you actually came home safe without any blood on your hands, or someone else’s life hanging by the very thread?” You retort and the vivid memory of feeling frustrated with him still sat at the pit of your stomach.

“I’m doing this for the both of our safeties, Y/N-”

“And if one of us doesn't make it through the end of the night, what then?”

That very sentence itself held a lot of tension as the spewed forgotten words were tossed around like fire and oil. With a slammed door and fire still waiting to be ignited at the tip of your tongues, you decided that you didn’t want to be involved with him anymore and go back to your old place to finish off your degrees and find the dream job that you wanted.

With now just a year left before you can graduate and get your masters, you are sitting at your window with thoughts pondering and infiltrating your mind, wondering if those nights should be filled with regrets. The envelope that was outstretched to Hyunjae felt heavy in your hands, and his words of possibly reading the letter for closure continued to linger in your mind up until the point where you thought that maybe it couldn’t hurt to read what the male still had to say to you.

But you felt tears in your eyes by the time that you had fully opened the letter to look at the sprawled words that were written on the small piece of paper, and with every word came a beautiful piece of him that you remembered loving.

It’s been a while hasn’t it, love?

By the time that you’re reading this, it’s way past the time since I walked out on us and I know it’s not your fault.

I think when I walked out that night, it was the idea of you being in constant danger because of me that always made me fear for the worst, hence why Hyunjae is still staying with you as your roommate. I convinced Sangyeon to let him stay with you rather than me, because well I think we know the reason why.

I haven’t been the best boyfriend to you, and there were many times that I wanted to just say sorry and let you hit or yell at me, but you didn’t. I know you couldn’t.

Do you remember that night when we celebrated our first anniversary at our place, just talking about how someday we can just go somewhere that can only be our own home? I always thought that it was in you whenever I always came back from a rough or long mission that led me away from you, but I guess it did more damage than I thought…

I regret a lot of things, Y/N, and I know that one of them was letting you go after I walked out the door, because I know that was my fault.

However, I want to make it right someday and try again after we talk it out, because I don’t think I can love anyone else the same way that I loved you, even if you may not feel the same way after all of this.

Until the next spring snow?

- KSW

The words left an unsettling feeling in your heart as you closed the letter in your hands and left it on your window porch as you curled up your knees closer to your chest. You weren’t sure when Hyunjae had left you in the middle of reading it, but you did know that he had left the house keys right beside your feet and you knew that he had left it there in case you did want to find Sunwoo again after reading it.

And you did.

You remember that it was yet another spring that it snowed and decided to grab your coat and shoes, before heading out of your home to head towards the one place that you used to call your own spot. With your heart practically beating out of your chest you can only imagine what you want to say to him in comparison to what might actually be said if you were to see him in the park that he first took you to in the city.

You were fearful of the idea that he wouldn’t change, but rather keep the dirty side of his job in his life and to put you aside again if you were to go back to how things went before, but you also had never called it off either you think as you had gotten closer to the park that was just five minutes away.

However you already saw the back of his head by the time that you had reached the rows of cherry blossom trees that bloomed and were currently being covered by the flurry of snow. You were breathless, to say the least, with the fact that he had came back on a day like today, and you weren’t sure what to say as you had stood only a couple feet away from him.

“Sunwoo?” You whispered in a quiet voice and watched as the latter turned around at the sound of his name being called, and you weren’t sure what to say.

“Hi, my love.” He whispers back with a small smile on his face and takes one step forward to test the waters, up until you decided to take it upon yourself to throw yourself onto him to embrace his warmth, afraid that he would leave again if you didn’t take advantage of the fact that he was here right now.

“You came back.”

“I only came back because I still love you,” He says and pulls back to look into your eyes, the same ones that he knows that he has fallen in love with from then, when he gently takes your face into the palms of his hands while brushing away the stray snowflakes that had fallen on top of your cheeks.

“Do you still-

“I still love you, if that’s what you want me to say- I’ll shout it out right now. I love you, Kim Sunwoo, and am so in love with you that I am willing to humiliate myself multiple times by waiting for you whenever it decides to snow in the spring-”

He immediately cuts you off with a rough, but also passionate kiss against your lips that had taken your breath away from the first touch. To him, it might’ve felt like he was doing it because it might’ve been the last chance that he had as you kissed him back, but somehow you knew that this might be your last chance with him as well, which was why you thought that maybe fate had let you choose him again during this time with a new plan in mind.

“So we can meet again like we always did, right?” He whispers quietly against your lips when you both pull away slowly as your eyes flutter open to look into his own.

You nod in response with the adrenaline from the kiss still makes you dizzy in your mind as you clung onto his arms tightly. He gives you a small smile as he places one more peck against your lips and moves his hands down to where you were still gripping onto him as he took your hands before warming them up with some newfound hand warmers that he had in his pocket.

“Then I love you too, Y/N. For every time that it snows in the spring, and for every day after that, because I’m not letting you slip past my fingers this time.”

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

#qui-gon definitely knew anakin was obi-wans soulmate when they started talking #he was like my dumb former padawan will not let himself be happy #so im going to wingman the shit out of him #by marrying his soulmate so they have to see each other again #and hopefully even talk about everything!#this cannot possibly go wrong #(it did)#but obi-wan and anakin end up together because qui-gon and anakin have their marriage annulled to the relief of everyone #asks #obikin #my fics #if all these prompts are going to be 1500 + words I do not know how fast i will finish them #but im trying #it's doing wonders for my writers block #prompt fill

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

Elysium // Luke Patterson

Summary: The boys of Julie and the Phantoms need a hail Mary to dethrone Downslide from opening for Panic! At the Disco. While Willie is done to help his blue eyed crush and his friends there’s one issue: Willie can’t drive the bus. Moving a bench is one thing but driving an entire tour bus? There’s only one person who can and Willie’s not sure where she is after year of no communication

Warnings: Swearing, angst, talk of death (it’s a ghost show, why is this a warning??), mention of assault, violence, and fluff.

Words: 11.5k

A/N: This is why I haven’t posted much in the last week. I’ve been writing this massive fic that I refused to turn into a series. My god, 11k words. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again. Enjoy and comment if you figured out who Rudy is!

Masterlist

There wasn’t much in the afterlife that you enjoyed after time spent in the limbo between the living and dead. Listening to songs before they were released lost its appeal just as much as dancing on stage with the ballet companies around the world, of being an unseen extra in shows and films being filmed.

Then you found a purpose a couple, well it could be more than a couple, years ago when you found a lost soul. William Young, Willie to his friends, had been sitting on the curb staring at the pavement entirely still as he had for two days.

The time from the last breath you took to walking the streets of Los Angeles was a blur in all honesty. The years bled together as you stayed stationary in a world that kept on spinning and changing, growing up. You had watched your friends hit new milestones you could only daydream about. Friends that graduated college and built new lives on the ashes of memories that included you.

Today’s walk was an attempt to escape your friends’ greying versions standing in front of a once vibrant sculpture. It happened every single year, but this one hurt the most. Listening to your friends recall stories of all the adventures you did together.

From being drunken idiots jumping off cliffs into that one lake the summer of freshman year. Or making a bonfire on the school’s roof with all the entryways blocked, rather stupid with the exits being blocked as well. Sneaking into concerts and stealing that one car that came close to sending you to boarding school.

The rebellion that still lived in you had mellowed in the five individuals with the adult responsibilities of family and work. Martha had removed all piercings but her lobes while Chase quit dying his hair colour. Jordan now had three children and a bought house.

Seeing the group no longer young had made your feet swiftly move from the memorial for a walk. The only thing that stopped you in your tracks was tripping over something in front of you.

“Ouch.” You hissed rolling onto your back with a moan of pain that faded with the sniffles.

Curled into his knees, sitting on the curb was a teenage boy about your age. Long hair curtaining his profile you found your eyes grasping the cracked helmet that spoke for itself abandoned by his side.

“Your kinda a hazard there.” You simply spoke sitting down next to the distraught teenager, “Heads up, I suck at comforting people.”

At his silence, you spoke once more, “I’m digging the tie-dye. Did you do it yourself?”

“This is some kind of stupid coma dream right?” The boy’s voice was husky from crying and disuse, “I’m probably in some kind of hospital with a tube down my throat.”

“I’d say yes, but it would be a blatant lie.” You spoke twirling a loose thread on your jeans while the stranger gazed at a spot on the street.

His dark brown eyes bloodshot as he remembered the car honking mere seconds before he heard the sound of a thud. He recalled struggling to breathe with his broken ribs and his screams being illustrated with bloodstains.

He remembered thinking how he had just bought that board a week ago with his allowance.

“Am I really dead?”

“Yes. We’re are a couple ghosts in a lively city.” You informed him with one handheld in the space between your ethereal forms. The teen hesitantly placed his hand in yours with a firm shake.

“William but call me Willie.” He softly told you, catching sight of the patch on your jean jacket—one of many from both when your grandma owned it and then when you did.

“I’m Y/N. Let’s blow this disappointment. I’m gonna teach you everything you need to know.” Brushing off the invisible dust on your jeans, you held your hand out to him, “We’re about to make the afterlife our bitch.”

A stark contrast to his former hesitance he immediately grasped your hand to tug himself off the curb. The forlorn skater didn’t question the board in your hand or how he could possibly even touch his own board. He didn’t wonder how it wasn’t in pieces like it had been when he first got hit.

That rebellion that ended your life flared again in the presence of your best friend with crashing Justin Bieber’s house. Of rearranging items in classrooms to freak teachers out and sitting in the cars turning the radio on and off. Haunting the living until the friendship fractured under the influence of a powerful ghost.

Caleb Covington had bewitched the skater with promises and extravagant gifts until Willie had taken the offer.

“He’s not like you said he was! I think you should give him a chance!” Willie cried following you around the place you had taken to be home.

“Willie he’s a bad guy! He butters you up until you give him what you want! That’s when you see his true colours. All he wants is your soul to power his magic and spread his reach!”

“I got to talk to my sister!”

“Your sister is five years old! It’s not Covington that gave you the opportunity. She won’t remember the experience as anything other than an invisible friend!”

“There are so many people at the Club that we can talk to. Aren’t you tired of the same routine and people we see?”

Willie’s pleading brought your full attention to the skater avoiding your gaze, “William Young…you took his offer.”

Willie tore his gaze from the art on the wall to find yours blatantly glaring at him with a bucket of random colour in your hand.

“The Club is going to France to tour around the country for a while. I’m dead, so I might as well make the best of it. Besides who gets to skate through the Louvre!” Willie beamed, watching as a small smile, found its way on your face at his excitement, “I’m sure Caleb would let you come to the Club tonight!”

“Willie, you are my best friend, but I’ve already seen the Club. It’s not my style, and I want nothing to do with it.”

That interaction was one of the very few speckled through the years when Caleb discovered who you were. No matter his offers, you never took the deal and when he saw how close you and Willie where he kept the skater busy. The Club didn’t appear in Los Angeles for a long time until Willie’s distance seemed too great to bridge.

“So, you need a way for the slot to be empty?” Willie asked the trio of ghosts all spread around the area.

Unfortunately for Luke, the only person they could get help from was from the very guy that placed them in a predicament. While Alex was the one spearheading the conversation with the long-haired skater Luke was glowering in his direction.

“The Orpheum was the thing we never got to do. We spent hours practising and performing with one goal-“

“Play the Orpheum and get distance from our parents. Well, at the time that streetdog and becoming legendary was my main focus.” Reggie recounted the feeling of suffocating in a house filled with fighting. A home he wished still stood, now dead all he wanted was to see his parents.

“We almost did it too.” Luke pouted relaxing his glare at the skater who openly sent apologetic gazes at Alex’s bandmates.

“So, we need to get rid of the opening band.” Willie nodded to himself, thinking about ways before he caught sight of the abject horror on the band. The skater’s eyebrows raised, “I know I deeply fractured the trust, but I’m not suggesting murder.”

“Okay. Good.” Reggie whistled relaxing his tense posture while Luke grumbled under his breath an insult that in turn got Alex’s arm into the guitarist’s ribs.

“Your best bet would be getting the bus out of LA. The band will probably celebrate the upcoming gig.”

“Could you make the bus disappear?” Alex hesitantly questioned shifting in his now vintage sneakers. The blonde-haired drummer flushed slightly under the endearing smile from the skater. The feelings create a confliction within Alex under Willie’s issue, leading them straight into a madman’s hands.

“I can move a bench, turn sirens on, but a bus is outside my paygrade.” Willie openly admitted showing his hands deep in his pockets, “The only person other than Caleb that has enough power-“

“-is he just as evil?” Luke demanded crossing his arms to glare at the male that had unfortunately caught the interest of Alex.

However, Luke couldn’t blame Alex for falling for this guy because well, Luke saw the teenage ghost’s appeal. Willie was attractive, but he wasn’t the type of person Luke would fall for. Plus he had initially made Alex incredibly happy, and Luke would never blame Alex for that.

“She is as different from Caleb as one can be. She uh…she taught me everything about being a ghost. Actually, found me where I died.” Willie cleared his throat as the guilt and sadness reared its head from deep within him. The guilt of leaving his little sister to grow up without him and the sorrow of not growing up with the girl.

It wasn’t often Willie allowed himself to remember the little girl, barely five when he died, who was always dancing. His little sister adored the colour purple and anything shiny and more than once Willie had let her dress him up. Willie’s greatest regret is that he’d never have that interaction with her. God, she’d be around his age now and in high school.

“Okay, so where is she?” Reggie clapped his hands, bringing the skater out of his thoughts and back into the present.

Luke saw the hesitation in Willie, “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Kinda?” Willie trailed off bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I haven’t seen her in years now. Last time I saw her we fought about the whole joining Caleb thing? I’m not even sure if she’s still in LA.”

“Of fucking course,” Luke grunted shoving both hands in his hair taking a few steps away from the other ghosts.

First, he dies, then he gets caught up in some bullshit revenge plot, then makes a deal with the devil without realizing it, and now their one chance is going up in flames. Luke Patterson was livid with the universe and the shitty hand he had been dealt, but at least he had his friends with him.

“It can’t hurt to look for her?” Reggie innocently offered with a shake of his shoulders, “It’s not like we have any other option.”

“Did we ever even have options?” Luke hissed, causing Willie and Alex each to flinch with the different guilt they carried.

Alex was guilty of going to Willie for help when getting back at Bobby was the biggest thing. Willie was guilty of ignoring his instincts on keeping Alex as far from Caleb as he could be he just wanted to impress the drummer. It’s not like Willie had many options for dating, and well, Alex was the first to get his entire focus.

“Dude. Stop. No one saw it coming.” Reggie bumped his hip against the annoyed guitarist, “Let’s find this ghost and get our shot at playing.”

The quartet of dead guys didn’t have high hopes of finding the girl in question, but it seemed the universe took pity on Luke Patterson. Just two hours into their search on the edges of the city limits an individual was walking.

The person’s stature leaned against a smashed concrete wall of the skeleton of where a building once was. The only thing the group could make out was a faded jean jacket with splotches of colour. Her ankles crossed as her back leaned against the cement, oozed laid back confidence. Coming closer, Luke noticed the sunglasses perched on top of her head and the lips painted dark.

“What do you need Willie? I heard you were looking for me.” The husky voice drew Luke in the most. The lead guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms enamoured with the girl.

“How’d-“Willie’s question was cut off as you simply tapped your right index finger against your temple.

“How do you think you managed to get here?” You inquired pushing off the cement to stride over to the group. To Willie’s surprise, he was tugged into your embrace before swiftly pushed away, “Come on. We should head in before someone catches us.”

In the dark as much as the other three ghosts, Willie dutifully followed you past the pieces of cement littered around the area. Gasps of surprise sounded as the once empty space became filled with buildings. It was not as extravagant as the hotel the Club worked out of, but it was hidden from the living and dead eyes.

“Where did this come from?” Reggie gasped astounded by the people once hidden from his view, moving around the area.

“This is Elysium. Don’t judge the name I lost the right in a poker game with Susie and Rudy. I’m Y/N.” You informed the group leading them to the gate where two people stood stoically guarding it, “Rudy was hellbent on calling it Valhalla.”

“This is Luke, Reggie and Alex.” Willie gestured to the awed trio of musicians only lingering on the blonde. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the attraction between the skater and the blonde; finding a date in the afterlife was a lot harder than the living.

Nodding a greeting to the two ghosts, you lead the group to a building painted a pretty turquoise blue colour. The sign above the double doors a stark white with calligraphy writing simply stating Elysium Management. It was a building set up like an administrative office of three stories, and you led the group right up to the top floor.

“Just a heads up…Rudy is a little suspicious of people.” You admitted standing outside a door with a nameplate the only descriptor, “He’ll come off a little gruff and rude, but when you get passed that he doesn’t shut up.”

“I can hear you through the door dumbass.” The words were called out from the office door opening.

The man standing in the entry wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His honey-brown eyes lit up with a teasing look before it shuttered at the sight of four strangers behind you. Rudy had valid reasons to not fully trust people after the shitshow in his hometown when he was alive.

“And you’ve brought strangers.” Rudy deadpanned with a sigh concluding his sentence as he stepped back into the office. It appeared like the world repositioned itself on the young man’s shoulders once more.

“I should be done within the hour. We can go over everything.” You informed your business partner and friend. Receiving only a nod from Rudy, you closed the door to his office, cutting off the view from your guests.

“He’s..uh.”

“Standoffish? Rudy keeps his past to himself, all he’s ever revealed is that he’s from a town a few hours away.” You spoke, opening the door to your own office decorated differently from Rudy’s more sterile black and white aesthetic.

Your office had splashes of colour with vintage posters of both music and film framed on the walls—a plush couch in the corner with a basket of blankets next to it. Instead of sitting behind the dark desk, you chose the couch instead. As you settled in the corner, you flicked one finger bringing an extra seat over.

The motion shocking the three boys accompanying Willie who had seen the abilities himself.

“Okay so why did you want to search for me?” You questioned the skater leaning back in the seat.

“When did this all happen?” Willie countered gesturing to the office in a building settled in the middle of a ghost town. A literal ghost town.

“There’s an empty lot in LA that used to house an abandoned apartment building that Rudy and I both called home. Of course, it was torn down, and we kinda knew that there’s wasn’t a place that didn’t have the threat of being annihilated at some point.” The memories of those unknown days trickled into your mind among the more positive ones, “We wanted a home. A place to call our own.”

“A week or so later a skittish pixie of a brunette crashed into us full speed. Susie had a certain ability that Caleb desired to have under his thumb. There are so many ghosts he had manipulated into selling him their soul. Rudy and I both wanted to stop Caleb from having that chance for everyone.” You continued, “Can I show you?”

The moon shone through the light clouds as a duo wandered LA’s streets in different mental states. The only home you had known had been unceremoniously ripped down with no future plans in place. Your entire life had been in that apartment in a building you had once thought only you inhabited. You had been unaware that on a separate floor, Rudy had been dwelling.

The two teens in starkly different clothing grew close with each other through the whole being the dead thing they shared. The mission was to find another place too, use but the feeling of home being ripped away tore at their hearts. The apartment was a place Caleb Covington hadn’t been aware of.

Your thoughts threatened to turn darker as a force knocked you onto your bac—aA short brunette groaning in pain to the left of you. The girl was Gwen, who would become very important to both Rudy and you.

I’ve always been a little different than most people. I can move things short distances, but I developed a specific talent. I can get inside people’s minds to plant, remove or alter memories or simply talk and read their thoughts.

The sound of your voice in their heads freaked them out more than they would like to admit. The intrusive tickle of something in their brains unsettling as you made a more present entry so they could feel it.

“What?”

“This is why I can’t be anywhere near Caleb. The whole reason he gives people stamps and takes their souls is because of me.” You fully admitted clasping your fingers in your lap, “He couldn’t cope with the fear of another ghost leaving so added a stipulation to joining his Club.”

“How did you come to create Elysium?” Alex inquired leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. Luke and Reggie followed his posture as the anticipation built.

“Everyone deserves a safe place. A place as far away from Caleb as possible and we do so for free. No fee is required, and ghosts are free to come and go as they please. They are welcome as long as their unfinished business keeps them in this plane.”

It sounded like a sweet deal to the group of teens, but they had other commitments, “You can tell us more, but we need your help.”

The pleading in the messy-haired brunette tore at your heartstrings like the one time Willie brought you to his house. It had been shortly before your friendship fractured, a few years ago. He had brought you to a suburb for low-income families and straight to the backyard where a twelve-year-old year danced.

The dead skater boy and the rebel sat in the patio chair on the tiny porch nestled in the postmark sized backyard. A quintet of pre-pubescent girls danced on the lawn to some bubblegum pop song. The Young girl was submissive to a more confident girl even when the venue was the Young girl’s home.

“The girl to the left is my little sister Kayla. She’s twelve now, it’s been seven years since I died.” Willie’s brown eyes saddened at the dancer who had a spark of maturity in her eyes, “I check in every once in a while. These are Kayla’s friends. The bossy girl is Carrie, and while the band is a group, she is the unofficial leader of the band Carrie’s Constellations.”

“She looks happy.”

“Kayla’s always been bubbly in personality, but she had questionable friends.” Willie outright admitted keeping his eyes pinned to the girl that had grown up in a blink of an eye. Her dark hair concealed by the gaudy purple wig; the colour assigned to the teenager.

“It’s nice that she still enjoys dance.” Willie finished reaching out to grab your hand in his and just like that Willie transitioned back into carefree, “I found this really cool skatepark I think you’d like.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Alex winced as the three musicians flinched as a sudden purple spark of colour lit up their midsections.

Like a tentacle, your mind reached into the quiet raven-haired boy with the leather jacket. Beyond the imagery of docile golden retrievers and steaming plates of food, you found the regret and fear in the boy. Stepping into a recent memory, you watched their experience at the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“You’ve met Caleb.” You sighed roughly pushing your index finger between your brows feeling the familiar ache.

“It was a stupid decision,” Luke spoke up, tearing his focus from the mysterious girl that ultimately had the power in her hands. The entire plan was weighing on the decision you would give, “Either we join his house band, or we don’t exist.”

“Hm.” You spoke as the kaleidoscope of colours in Luke’s eyes glittered under the sterile lights of the room. It was difficult to look away from the enthralling teenage ghost, but the emotion wafting off Willie was concerning.

“They died before they could perform at the Orpheum. We’re banking that getting the opening slot with giving them the push into crossing over.” The long-haired skater leaned closer, “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t do much.”

“So, you want to pull ’09 incident again?” You completely ignored the trio on the couch staring directly at the sheepish skater with raised eyebrows, “Only this time without the train?”

“Train?” Alex whispered, looking between the two long-time friends with interest and then next thing he knew Alex was in the backseat of a van crushed between Reggie and Luke equally confused.

Chicago, Illinois 2009

William Young and Y/N Y/L/N were complete hellions in the ghost world, creating havoc that fascinated the living population. The recent event being the highjacking of a van filled with drunk teenage boys. These boys had been the sole reason a young girl was recovering in a hospital with life-threatening injuries. The scene changed to a hospital room with Willie and Y/N watching a girl with massive bruising laid.

It had hit both Willie and Y/N hard catching the tail end of the new report, Willie thinking of how that could have been his sister. Even if Kayla was only five years old, having a sister set things more in perspective. For you it was a flashback to when you were alive and thus led you to the ICU room for the girl.

Slipping into her unconscious mind was easy but while the injured teen appeared peaceful to the hospital staff, she was anything but. The poor girl’s mind replayed the traumatic incident over and over like a movie; keeping in the shadows, you gently repainted the portrait with lighter and brighter images.

For Willie, he watched as you wavered on your ghostly feet and smoothed out the features of the girl. The heart monitor subtly changing as the injured girl relaxed, and suddenly your interference heightened her chances of survival.

“I got it.” You spoke to Willie with a heated glare on your features and when the ghostly musician trio blinked they were back in the van.

Your hands gripped the van’s steering wheel with Willie turned in the passenger seat to watch a group of living boys scream. To the living eyes in the van, no one was in the front seats but whispered words spoke into their minds.

You’re going to go straight to the police and tell them what you did. You’ll hand over the photographic evidence and demand the worst punishment. You’ll leave the girl alone, or we’ll come back to finish our job. You will pay for the hospital bills if the family agrees.

The boys trembled with the putrid scent of urine permeating the enclosed vehicle. The distant sound of a train echoed in the distance as the van stopped on the tracks. No matter how much the living boys moved the doors refused to open, and the windows remained unbreakable.

“WE promise!” The ringleader cried, slamming his shoulder against the door with the train’s bright lights illuminating the van.

“Let us go!” The other screamed, slamming his bruising hands on the window.

Alex was flinching at each slam of fists on the glass, leaving smears of blood. Knuckles broke from the window. At the very last second, your foot slammed the gas pedal taking the van millimetres from the train screeching on the tracks.

You and Willie stared at the stationary train lit up from the van’s headlights with the rhythmic flashes of the red and blue police lights. The van’s seat arrangement was different with the ringleader in the driver’s seat.

The three ghost musicians standing unseen behind the duo but in the real world out of the dreamlike memory you knew.

Elysium, Present Day

“Holy fucking shit.” Alex cussed out of breath, leaning back on the couch with shaking limbs and fear in his bloodless veins.

Luke’s eyes blinked owlishly at the boy that he had once thought could never do something as terrifying and torturous. He was afraid to even ask the outcome of the life-threatening incident you did on the assailants.

“That is the reason for the train.” You barely glanced at the shaken trio to stare at who had once been your partner in crime, “Willie, I have responsibilities here. We just opened a new division for the children we house here.”

“It would take a few hours.” Willie pleaded, positioning his hands into a pleading position turning on his charm. The puppy eyes you had always struggled to say no to as if you weren’t the type of person easily capable of staying strong.

“We’ll do anything.” Luke pleaded just as much recalling the countless times he had charmed himself out of situations, “Please help us.”

“I’ll have to make arrangements with Rudy and Susie, but I might be able to pull some strings. I’m really sorry Willie, but I’m gonna need to erase your knowledge of this place. There are too many people depending on this setup.”

Outside the Orpheum

Outside the legendary venue, three out of four band members for Julie and the Phantoms walked up to the marquee. Hopefully, the letters for Downslide would be changed into their band name just under the main act. Everything was riding on Willie and Y/N’s capabilities. Trusting the skater was challenging to do and more so someone they didn’t fully know.

“Look, don’t worry, guys. Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex soothed his friends on each side of him. All three wearing concerned expressions at the place that hopefully was their last stop before crossing over.

“This is gonna work, right?” Reggie questioned with his hand confidently sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. The relaxed posture a juxtaposition to the anxiety and nerves on his flushed face.

“It has to.” Luke’s lips pursed into a pout with his words tinged with a dialect different from his best friends. The faint souvenir from the place he spent a few years growing up before moving to LA.

Luke’s words were highlighted by the groans of pain as that flash of purple courtesy of Caleb’s death stamp appeared. All three hunched over clutched their chests breathing through the pain; Luke was the first to unfurl his form.

“Whoa!” You gasped flashing underneath the marquee beside Willie. Rushing to give Luke support without even a second thought.

When the aftershock faded, the guitarist stood straight up with a thankful smile that boarded on adoration.

“Are you guys, okay?” Willie asked, keeping back with the swell of guilt that happened, seeing the familiar symptoms of post-shock. He had felt them a time or two in the time he had sold his soul to his unfortunate boss.

“Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before,” Alex replied, rubbing his hand over the baby blue shirt he had chosen today. His blue eyes doing their best to avoid looking into the puppy-like ones of the skater, “How’d it go?”

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas.” Willie proudly announcing turning on his heel to show off the Downslide jacket he took from the lead singer. His fist extending to bump yours instinctively before he did so with Luke.

“With no chance of getting back in time.” You snickered in response living on the adrenaline and nostalgia of the rebellion. With Elysium, you had turned around your life, “Meaning-“

“-there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freakin’ out.”

“Nah. This is Hollywood, man.” Willie scoffed with a wave of his hand matching the one you supplied, “I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

As Willie finished his sentence up in the promotor’s office out of earshot of the ghosts stood a very pissed adult. His finger-wagging his finger with teeth clenched, his flushed skin a juxtaposition to the cheery blue Hawaiian style shirt. Frank Wolfe couldn’t believe how stupid his once opening band was.

“What do you mean the bus drove itself into the middle of the desert?” Frank questioned progressively growing more and more frustrated. His assistant Tasha casting concerned looks to her typically collected boss, “BUSES DON’T DRIVE THEMSELVES!”

Tasha flinched at the sudden loud growl of the sentence but more so as Wolfe starting slamming the phone into the cradle. Her fingers halting on her keyboard, going over the list of frequent acts. Unfortunately, the five acts had other commitments causing Tasha to fear tonight. The blonde lady was worried Wolfe could have a breakdown once more.

While Willie snickered to his own words, your eyes, not your mind, could read that Alex wanted to talk to the skater. With only a teasing jab of your elbow in Willie’s ribs you shuffled around the drummer to join Reggie and Luke away from the ‘will they won’t they’ couple.

“So, can you do me a favour?” Luke hesitantly questioned you with his inquisitive eyes a greener colour in the sunlight. His attractive eyes took your full attention with a simple tilt of your head, “Julie’s family means a lot to us, and could you keep an eye on them?”

“And Carlos,” Reggie interjected rocking on his polished pleather boots he had spent ages on finding for his rocker aesthetic back in the ’90s.

“-Julie’s little brother.” Luke supplied at the confusion painted clearly on your pretty features. His green eyes scoured your face as he always did that flushed both his and your faces red.

“Yeah, of course, I can.” You firmly told the two dead boys each standing tense in front of you.

You could easily see the love they held for the living family that had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. Since first meeting them you had always gotten the feeling that their living years weren’t the best. For Alex, it was living in the ’90s as a young gay teenager during a terrifying time for the LGBTQ+ community. Reggie flinched at the raised voices, and Luke had longingly stared after the happy families milling around the Elysium.

“Did you ever find out what your unfinished business was?” Reggie inquired fixing a strand of his dark hair that had fallen onto his blemish-free skin. Your smile faltered at his question; nonetheless, you answered.

“I did.” The two words carried a sense of pain with them. Your eyes unfocused recalling the euphoric feeling of seeing the breathtaking white light of the peace exuding from the beyond and the agony of denying crossing over.

“How-“

“Hey! Y/N!” Willie called out to the young denim wearing ghost with his beaming grin, “Don’t go stealing buses without me!”

Luke swore he could see your laughter in the air, just as endearing as the smoky quality your voice carried.

“Don’t go glitter bombing criminals.” You returned as your best friend dropped his board to skate off to wherever he was needed. It was bittersweet to reconnect with him knowing that it could be the last time.

When Caleb found out, not an if but a when Willie had a hand in helping his desired band it was high chance Willie would be gone. Caleb was all too powerful, and when he was betrayed, it never ended well.

“I need to get back to Elysium. Susie’s arrival is tonight. Good luck with tonight.” Your words were accompanied by a hug for each of the boys. The one with Luke lingering the most, “I wish you could play for the kids.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The brunette, messy-haired boy’s words carried a hidden desire simply to be in your space more. The teenage ghost helps those in limbo while wearing a jean jacket with patches from many decades. The jacket creating an unknown time you had lived.

“Goodbye, boys.” You told the trio before you poofed away from the busy streets of Hollywood where the band had come full circle in death.

“Are you guys, okay?” Reggie inquired his best friends, forgoing his casual personality for the layers underneath. His blue-green eyes filled with only concern.

Alex and Luke shared a lingering look, “Yeah. We’re okay.”

The dining hall was filled with long tables and chairs populated by the ghostly forms of everyone currently living at Elysium. It was reminiscent of a British book turned film series of youth with magic abilities. The series had been a favourite of a former resident.

“Incredible.” Susie breathed staring at the joyful people having a place to call home. Making the limbo between life and death more bearable.

“We’ve done well. You smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, “It’s so nice to have you back.”

Elysium was so much more than you could ever hope for. It kept growing and growing with more ghosts. Since the founding of the haven, new developments continuously happened with one resident’s unique ability.

Harvey had joined the haven a year into the founding bringing the ability to gift the residents with the capacity to eat. During his life, Harvey had been a renowned chef and the dream to make food it carried into his death. As long as Harvey cooked the food with his volunteer staff ghosts were able to eat it.

“Harvey has outdone himself again,” Rudy announced his arrival at your side with his arms crossed, displaying his corded muscles. The constellation of moles on his face standing on his pale creamy skin.

“Rudy!” Susie squealed, throwing herself into his arms with the same glee that came each time. Susie and Rudy since their first meeting had a special bond as chosen siblings who bonded over heartache.

Rudy had died, leaving his best friend and his strawberry blonde girlfriend in the living world back in their dark hometown. It was just one tidbit he had revealed throughout your friendship. The only physical connection to his living friends was the three picture on his desk of a group of people.

The first picture had a lean version of Rudy with his arms thrown over a Hispanic boy with a crooked jaw and glimmering brown eyes. The Hispanic boy had his arm around a pretty brunette girl with deep dimples and wavy brown hair. The two boys wore a sports uniform of some kind holding lacrosse sticks.

The second picture had Rudy and the Hispanic teen again but with a beautiful petite strawberry blonde. Along with them was a brunette with blunt chin-length hair and hardened features besides a shorter blonde male with blue eyes.

The last picture was of Rudy with the same Hispanic boy wearing graduation caps and gowns with two beaming adults. The male adult wore a tan shirt adorned with a star on his left pec and dark brown pants. He had to be Rudy’s father with similar features. The woman was of Hispanic descent with laugh lines, and thick dark curly hair pulled into a half do; obviously the Hispanic teen’s mother.

The pain in Rudy’s face each time he saw the pictures closed off a desire to ask him about the people.

“Hello, Susie.” Rudy chuckled, wrapping his arms around her small stature, “How was Europe?”

“Why don’t you ask the five newcomers I found before Caleb?” Susie teased gesturing to the ragtag of new ghosts immersed in conversations.

“Family?”

“A boarding school had a fire. Those five were in the fire when it happened and the only victims out of seven that didn’t cross over.” Susie’s tone faded into a melancholy tone with her small arms wrapping around her middle. Faded brown eyes staring at the younger of the five seeing herself in them.

“That’s terrible.” You whispered, staring at the table with one finger picking the patch of a band from the ’70s, “I can’t imagine how scary that could have been.”

“Yeah.” Susie softly spoke, pushing a strand of her hair off her temple just as equally sad for the way that death had no qualms of how it took.

The youngest ghost in Elysium had been a three-year-old toddler who passed over quickly when he was found by the deceased mother. The two had been separated at death and luckily shared the same unfinished business of finding each other.

“Miss Reynold’s has twelve spirits that finished their business.” Rudy softly informed his two partners. Soft smiles formed on their faces at the happy news of Elysium’s goal being accomplished again.

“May they find everlasting peace and serenity.” Your words intertwined with Susie in perfect sync of the motto coined after the first crossover, “I suppose the Serenity will begin planning?”

“Have the Serenity ever not performed their duty?” Rudy raised one dark eyebrow with a rhetorical question. E/c and faded brown met recalling the countless times Elysium had hosted a celebration for those who found their unfinished business.

“That is-whoa.” You gasped stumbling at the scream echoing in your mind accessorized with the vintage sound of a band.

Calloused hands grasped your shaking form from collapsing onto the ground from a proverbial psionic shove. Agony slammed your brain flickering into an old fashioned club filled with people in both colour or black and white attire. You caught sight of baby pink, deep royal blue and bright red suits. The pained screams of a skater in a dark room overtaking the music in the Club.

“No.” You whispered clenching your hands on your head, feeling the dread building in the pit of your stomach.

The joyful voices in the hall muted while your body flickered with the deep instinct to leave the haven for the one place that utterly terrified you. It was the familiar touch of Susie and Rudy that kept you from finding the one person that meant the world. Willie’s soul was on the cutting board, and Caleb obsession with performing was the only reason Willie still existed.

“Willie.” You whimpered tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, feeling the panic in the skater’s mind.

“Susie help me.” Rudy stonily spoke ushering the distraught girl from the busy hall into an empty room.

Your shaking body finding purchase on the plush sofa with Susie holding one hand in hers and Rudy brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. It wasn’t often your psionic abilities left you in such a state, but the distance proved difficult.

“Shit.” Rudy grumbled frowning, “This is bad. Y/N, we need to get you to Willie. You’re flickering, and the distance isn’t helping.”

“You want to take one of Elysium’s strongest ghosts straight into Caleb’s domain? You know how much he wants her in his Club.” Susie hissed to the co-founder of the haven they had to take extraordinary measures to protect, “It won’t work! You’re throwing her to the dogs!”

“Susanne I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. Besides, we always have a plan.” Rudy retorted narrowing his whiskey eyes at the younger girl, “I’ll take her to get Willie, but you need to stay here to make sure everything runs smooth.”

“Are you sure you can-“Susie cut herself off with a nod as Rudy displayed the reason he could do it, “Okay, yep, you can do it.”

Rudy came back into her vision in his signature position with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. The reason why Elysium worked so well was Rudy’s ability to erase an object from the view of anyone. He could make himself invisible to anyone and in practice, developed it to hide items and location. With his ability, Elysium was permanently hidden to anyone outside of his power. Illusions were his unique ability.

“You aren’t the first person to doubt my capability.” Rudy informed the other ghost reaching one hand out. With his fingers caressing your temple, he snapped his fingers, transporting you and him away from Elysium.

The empty room of Elysium’s dining hall was exchanged for the business streets of Los Angeles, bringing an improvement in your body. Pushing away from Rudy, your eyes frantically scoured the unfamiliar area for any hint of Willie.

“He’s close.” You exclaimed closing your e/c eyes to focus solely on your sixth sense kicking in. Rudy’s gasp snapped your eyes open to see his eyes pinned on your feet where a glowing neon purple smoke wisped.

“What is that?” Rudy demanded crouching to touch it, but it was like nothing was there. His whiskey brown eyes meeting your confused gaze.

“I have no clue, but I feel like I have to follow it.” Robotically your feet started walking following the smoke through the streets.

Rudy was silent as you came upon a park swallowed by the darkness of the night with the moon barely showing through the clouds. The odd purple smoke the only offering of light so far from the path with street lights.

“Of course we have to go through a park.” Rudy grumbled, “Nothing good ever happens in wooded areas at night.”

Lifting your eyes from the smoke, you looked at a deeply unsettled Rudy lost in the past only he knew. His mind recalling traipsing through the forest with his asthmatic best friend in the middle of the night. The last night before the unknown took over his life. Oddly enough dying and returning as a ghost was the most normal with everything that happened with his friends alive.

“You can go ba-“

“We’re not splitting up,” Rudy growled plainly scowling at your hesitant features. Rudy’s slammed the door closed on his past life.

Sensing unease Rudy’s calloused hand reached over to slide into yours in platonic support. You continued your mission, unaware that three certain ghosts in breathtaking suits were searching for you.

Alex, Reggie, and Luke, affected by the purple jolts, failed to find the one place where their plan B could work. What Julie hadn’t known was that the guys had a plan just in case the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business. The three would go to Elysium to accept their fate and ensure Julie believed they crossed over.

With no Elysium in sight, the boys returned to the Molina garage hoping that one thing would go their way: Julie would go straight to bed.

The glow purple smoke trailed through the city park into an older part of Los Angeles before it stopped. Where the smoke stopped was a vast empty space surrounded by trees.

“Well, that’s a little anticlimactic.” You grumbled crossing your arms, “Willie’s somewhere here. Do you think Caleb has an underground lair?”

Rudy cast an unamused expression at you, “From past experience. No, that’s not likely. He probably has an apartment downtown. An underground network of caves in the woods is more shapeshifter style but still not true.”

“One: You’re rambling. Two: What the hell kind of life did you have?” You questioned furrowing your eyebrows at his rather odd piece of information.

“An old one.” Rudy spoke, staring ahead, “Besides, I think we should check out whatever building is hidden from our sight.”

“Hid-“Your mouth halted when Rudy roughly gripped your shoulders to twist you to face the empty space.

“Close your eyes. Trust your senses.” Rudy spoke softly, “Or pay attention to the slab of concrete in the middle of an empty space with well-kempt grass.”

Your palm slammed your forehead with a resounding thump in the night with distance lights from surrounding buildings. Rudy squeezed your shoulders as he stepped to the side once more in turn, closing his eyes.

“Walk in my mind.” Rudy stated for the first time in your friendship, allowing you to look in his mind. Your hesitance was met with another squeeze of comfort in his calloused grip.

Your tired eyes closed as your mind timidly stepped into the rather breathtaking mind of Rudy, who felt guilt the most. While Susie’s mind was like a summer day spent at a lake with brightness and gorgeous field of flowers, Rudy’s mind was different.

It was dark in Rudy’s mind but not as if evil, but as if he had been touched by the darkness and painted permanently. There’s was the odd whisper of childlike laughter intermingled with the full adult laugh of a woman; the laughter overshadowed with the sound of funeral music. You felt the lose near that memory. Rudy’s mind was painful to be in and drowning in the feelings he had.

Your breath caught seeing a door you assumed was of his childhood room with a name you couldn’t pronounce for the life of you.

“My parents named me after my mom’s dad.” Rudy spoke through his mind with a soft smile on his face, “I couldn’t say it, so I called myself Mischief. I stopped using it when my mom died, and I went by a shortened version of my last name.”

Your eyes watched as the door disappeared, and the reason you were in his mind came back to the forefront. Your eyes watched the image forming of a vintage hotel rippling in the air before it solidified. The size reminded you of a castle, and it felt like you were storming it.

Without any more mental interaction, you stepped out of Rudy’s mind back into the real world. The very same hotel in plain sight to both Rudy and your surprised elation.

“Honestly didn’t think that would work.” Rudy breathlessly laughed, staring at the hotel once hidden to them. A dark comparison to Elysium.

“How do we play this, Rudy?” You inquired looking over at him, “This is very different from stealing cars and scaring teens.”

“Easy. We blend in.” Rudy responded, holding one hand out to grasp yours in which you noticed your attire had changed, “Perks of illusion? I can alter our own perception of ourselves.”

“Oh, wow. That looks expensive.” You replied, staring at the diamond bracelet on your wrist matching the necklace you wore.

Rudy’s attire had changed from his normal button-up with the sleeves rolled to be layered under a charcoal grey vest and jacket. Sleek matching pants to his coat and the dark black-tie matching the elegant black dress you wore. He had taken pity on your footwear to fit your ability to walk and for the fancy place.

He even had diamond cufflinks that matched you, but the wedding rings on your fingers took you aback. Your widened eyes staring at him.

“Tonight we’re Mr and Mrs Martin,” Rudy spoke choking on the last name he gave as it was the upscale name toppled from his lips.

“Okay. This is a test of our abilities.”

“This is if our plan A of being invisible doesn’t work. The one thing we know for sure is that Caleb has never seen either one of us.” Rudy soothed your nerves with a half-smile,” Let’s get Willie out.”

Your arm slipped into the crook of his to walk to the front door, “I feel like a spy. I feel like that Naomi Roma-“

“It’s Natasha Romanoff. Have you ever seen one of the marvel movies?” Rudy demanded walking up the entrance with a pained smile, “You’re like my best friend and when he wouldn’t watch Star Wars! Never caught one of my references!”

“Okay! Sorry, we can watch the movies when this over.” You grumbled as your heels clicked in the foyer of the hotel. The inside made you feel like you were sent back in time to the roaring ’20s.

“Oh damn, this is nice,” Rudy whispered, staring at the chandelier in the extravagant lobby of the last place you wanted to be.

While on the outside the two ghosts appeared cool, calm and collected they were anything but. Both a wreck inside from the perilous errand they had done that could very well be the ending of Elysium. Rudy nudged you to begin finding Willie with your mind, but you didn’t need to.

That same glowing mist was on the ground pulling you in the direction of a dark hall away from the route to the Club. Rudy kept his eye out, a characteristic carried into the afterlife from his time with the FBI, as you followed the mist. The hall continued to get more and more dark as the walk continued.

Finally at the end was a blood-red door.

“I swear to god if he kills his Club members, I’ll lose it.” You hissed to your arm candy, “What if he’s really H. H. Holmes disguised as a former magician? His door is blood red!”

“Have you been using your serial killer colouring book again?” Rudy demanded stuttering his steps to place his whiskey brown eyes on you. The sheepish expression on your face was enough of a response to gain the look of disbelief could have sent you into hysterics had the time not been too serious.

With a grin belying the situation, you twisted your wrist to open the door to hopefully where Willie was being held.

“What a cliché. He’s keeping Willie in the basement?”

“Will you shut up!” Rudy hissed right back with a clenched jaw entering the somewhat unfinished basement. It was cold even to your dead standards where the cold didn’t bother that much.

At the bottom in front of a desk with only a small lamp as illumination sat a vacant-eyed Willie painstakingly detailing a fabric. The lush purple velvet fabric was bougie, to say the least, and rather outlandish for the skater.

“Willie.” You softly coaxed the teen to glance up from the fabric you found to be something Caleb would wear. Willie’s brown eyes barely met yours before they returned to the sewing needle in his hand and the tiny beads in the bowl.

“Caleb is actually forcing him to be his personal seamstress?” Rudy scoffed,d stepping right up by your side to look at the work.

Both trying unsuccessfully to coaxed Willie out of the stupor he was engaged in the sudden poofing wasn’t heard.

“Mrs. Young taught both Willie and Kayla how to sew. She’s quite the seamstress, reminds me of my old one.” Caleb wistfully responded with a smarmy smile on his face, “Well if it isn’t little Y/N and whoever she brought. Nice threads.”

“Let him go.”

Caleb’s index finger caressed the corner of his mouth so gently to ensure the stage makeup didn’t budge. His clear ocean blue eyes turning thunderstorm navy as his lips parted in such a bone-chilling sinister grin.

“Let him go? He tried to take my new house band from me. He thinks that those boys not crossing over is his punishment. I think that adorable but so very wrong.” Caleb shrugged, dragging his finger down the bicep of his puppet.

“What can we do to- “

“You see after he’s done fixing the tuxedo jacket I’m going to tie him up on the table and slowly strip away his soul piece by piece. No, Willie won’t get the quick and easy zap erasing him. I’ll personally see it’s the most painful thing he experiences and I’ll do so happily.”

“Willie! Wake up!” Rudy shouted, shaking the skater’s shoulder frantically with his focus never entirely leaving the mad man. The whiskey brown eyes panicking at the odd displaced feeling of reliving his living life.

“That won’t work.” Caleb chuckled crossing his arms, “It’s rather amusing you think you can beat me. I’m Caleb Covington! I’m persuasive enough for hundred of memberships to financially benefit the Club.”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N bitch.” You snarled viciously throwing your mind into the nefarious narcissistic mind of the washed-up magician.

Caleb Convington had started to bore his audience with the same tricks at every previous show. The lack of interest depleting the attendance numbers and severely hurting the financials. So Caleb decided to broaden his talent by copying the likes of Harry Houdini.

He had a knack for both the dramatics and swindling his audience to be tricked by the illusions he created. The heightened popularity increased Caleb’s thirst for status and fame, so he overestimated himself.

Surrounded by adoring fans and journalists, Caleb had his assistant lock him in a safe with no key, to the audience’s knowledge, and push the safe into the river. Unfortunately from the infamous magician and escape artist the safe warped due to the material it as made out of. Caleb Covington died drowning in a safe at the bottom of the river.

You flinched feeling the emotion at the time Caleb had died and the feeling of disappointment at not leaving a legacy. Your continued your trek in the struggling mind of a man who viewed himself as invincible. You caught glimpses of a young Caleb with his family and the moments of tragedy that shaped him.

You saw his first taste of power in death and the content since the first time he erased a ghost from existence. It sickened you more as you reached the point where Willie came into Caleb’s path.

I’m unique, Caleb. Unlike you with the illusions and empty promises, I have real power that you could only dream of. Hearing your thoughts and planting my own words is just the tip of the iceberg.

Caleb screamed in response holding his aching head as you cruelly ripped every memory of Willie from his mind. The screams echoed not only in the basement but through the hotel the Club worked out of.

“Stop!” Caleb pleaded, shaking his head back and forth. The anguish was un-fazing to both the lucid people in the room. Rudy too busy trying to wake your best friend from the trance he had been placed in.

“I can alter memories. Remove them and even plant memories of my own design. You may take from people, but I give to people. I refused to give you anything.” You circled the man seeing double from outside and inside his mind.

I’m everything you wish you could be.

Your last action in his mind was searing a burn that flashed across his entire body from a nerve stroked. With the heat equivalent to magma in his veins, you burrowed to where Caleb controlled the souls. With a smear of your fingers, Willie’s soul was released from Caleb clutches.

“C’mon. Get Willie.” You told Rudy sending Caleb into an empty trance as if he was no more than a wax figure. Rudy eased the skater up from the desk while you exchanged Caleb to sit on the chair holding the needle, “We need to leave. I’ll get rid of any speck of Willie in memories.”

“I didn’t even get to punch the guy.” Rudy pouted, dragging his feet up the stairs away from the magician.

“That’s a good thing. I’m sure Caleb would be more pissed about his nose being damaged than losing Willie.” You scoffed helping the man urge Willie to walk up the stairs and then down the hallway to the entrance.

As you walked you brushed the minds of every individual in the building, all members in attendance, you gently removed all traces of Willie. By the time you reached the edge of the park, you had relaxed.

“We should get him to Alex, they didn’t crossover. I can still feel their imprint.”

“He’d be safer at Elysium to lay low.” Rudy replied, keeping on eye on the skater and on anyone he could see.

With only a nod, you ushered the ghost to teleport both the skater and himself back to the safe walls of Elysium. As he did so, you reached out with your mind to the blonde-haired sweet male in adoration with your best friend.

Clicking his place was easy enough for your draining power after the taxing bond with Willie’s absent presence. Instead of walking as you would generally choose you poofed on the cement pad in the backyard of a home. The surrounding skirt of the backyard encased with plants and flowers.

“Hello?” You called out in the darkness. The soft, mumbled words had your feet moving in the direction.

Standing in a circle mesmerized at the purple tattoos lifting off their skin was the boys of Julie and the Phantoms. The teenage beautiful Puerto Rican girl stood across from Luke with Reggie and Alex on each side.

“Alex?” You called out to the boy wearing a baby pink vintage tuxedo that complimented his skin and hair exquisitely. The outfit definitely screamed that Caleb had something to do with it, especially with the missing fanny pack.

“Y/N?” Luke gasped turning to see you in incredibly fancy attire matching his gorgeous blue suit modified to having no sleeves. The anticipation of eating at you to find Reggie rocking a red suit with butterflies on the fabric.

“I’m sorry you didn’t crossover.” Your words soothed the sad teenagers that had accepted their fate only to have no control again. An introduction was brought between you and Julie when the living girl elbowed Alex.

“Not that we mind but what are you doing here? How did you get here, and why are you dressed up?” Luke inquired, pushing his hands into his suit pockets, engrossed with your gorgeous appearance.

“Well when you crash a fancy Club with a narcissistic founder…any means to blend in is necessary.” You responded, “As for your second question.”

Your finger tapped your temple before continuing to speak, “I’m here because Alex deserves to know. You all do.”

The boy in baby pink frantically stepped forward, “What happened?”

“Maybe it’s best, I just show you?” Your brows furrowed to your own question accompanied by your lower lip being bitten by your teeth. The red lipstick not budging as it was an illusion as well.

“Hu-“Reggie grunted as he spiralled with his two dead bandmates into the scene that had sent you on your determined mission.

The rough action of being drawn into your memories as jarring as the first time and just as scary. The maniacal magician pacing the dark basement simply to heighten his dramatic speech. Alex’s heart clenched at the vacant look in the skater’s eyes with the faintest tinge of purple in the gorgeous brown.

“I feel like I got carsick.” Reggie moaned leaning over to clutch his midsection once you released the ghostly trio. Reggie would often gain a look of disbelief and horror from the blonde drummer, but his entire brain was centred on Willie.

“Rudy took Willie back to Elysium where he’ll be safe. If you want, you can join us.” The words were offered to both the dead and living currently in the room.

Opting out, Julie retired to her bedroom to calm down from the rush of performing at the Orpheum of all places. Besides she felt like going to Elysium was best for the three boys, and maybe they would move there. Julie would miss them, but she knew they’d always come back.

Susie was quick to hug you tightly as you stepped through the gates with the dead members of Julie’s band. The boys changed out of the tuxedos they had dropped off at a donation centre, Reggie had wanted to burn them. After living on the streets for a short while, Luke understood the need for clothing, so the clothing was taken to shelters.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Rudy told me you overexerted yourself again.” Susie spoke with a deeply furrowed brow oblivious to the puppy dog look from the bassist in red flannel.

“If I didn’t, Willie would be gone.”

“You’re pale yet flushed cheeks. I can see you have a fever. You need to rest.”

“I need to soothe Willie out of the trance that psychotic prick put him in.” You scoffed shaking Susie’s hand off your shoulder to sidestep her, “I’ll rest when he’s fine.”

“I-“

“At least gab something from the cafeteria for energy.” Susie’s brown eyes dimmed at your typical brush off. The same routine of overusing your powers and not recharging correctly, “He’s in Cottage A!”

The boys were on your heels as you power-walked through the streets of the ghost city with one location in mind. The living streets with homes of all style and colours appeared passed the bakery, the school and the clothing stores.

“You can eat?” Reggie whispered as a little ghost girl licked an ice cream cone walked by.

“Harvey adored cooking for people when he living, so he continued in death. Harvey can make food for ghosts, and so can his staff if they work in his kitchen. His pastry chef provides baked goods to Flora’s Bakery and makes the best ice cream.”

“Oh my god.” Reggie practically squealed wholly flabbergasted by the almost perfect place you created, “How do you pay for things?”

“We don’t. What Harvey doesn’t grow in his garden, he can make ingredients out of thin air. We all have some kind of job we do. Everyone has a role in fulfilling to keep Elysium running.” You simply spoke keeping your eyes on the cottage with the robin’s egg blue door.

As if he knew Rudy flung the door open elated to see you standing there. Both of you still wearing the illusioned attire. IN milliseconds he wiped the illusion away, returning you back into your street clothes.

“How is he?”

“No change.” Rudy replied, following your steps in the living room. The skater was staring blankly at the wall.

“Willie!” Alex cried, rushing over to kneel beside the boy that had so swiftly stolen his heart without him realizing. The emotion in his word didn’t get a microscopic flinch from the formerly so-called enemy.

“Everyone be quiet.” You demanded forcibly staring each person in the room down for a mere second. With the desired silence continued, you ignored the headache forming in your head to step into the skater’s mind.

William Young was screaming to be released by the prison of his own mind Caleb had forced him into. He had felt the restriction on his soul lifted and the mist of purple leaving his brain, but he was still stuck.

He could barely breathe with the weight on his chest. Willie didn’t like feeling stuck in one place as he was a wanderer at heart. It was a reason why he had joined the Hollywood Ghost Club with the promise of travel.

Willie come back

In his mind, the sound of your voice firstly grounded the young man as a mirage of your form flickered. Your eyes screamed worry while the smile was one of relief.

Caleb can’t hurt you anymore. Come home.

The spectators watching see your flinching wavering expression and the tensing of Willie’s facial muscles. Everyone sat on the edge of their seat as the two pairs eyes opened in synch of the yells of hurt.

What they didn’t expect was your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and you to collapse onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Willie cried, stumbling off the couch onto the cold floor where your body lay prone, “Wake up!”

It seemed everyone forgot the little detail of being dead.

“She’s fine.” Rudy remarked, shaking your arm with such gentle care matching the four guys’ care in the room.

Your eyelids fluttered open under the bright lights of the unused cottage still waiting for an owner.

“Susie was right.” You grumbled allowing Willie to help you sit up against the blue velvet couch. Your mussed hair adorable in the eyes of the guitarist utterly enamoured with everything about you.

“She usually is.” Rudy mused, thinking of the many times she had proven everyone wrong, “She punched me for not bringing you home.”

“Gotta love her.” You snorted turning to face the four ghosts awkwardly gazing around the room. It was barren of personality with the lack of inhabitants. The yearning quickly found in the boys’ eyes, “You know this isn’t the only cottage in need of people.”

“What do-“

“You’re welcome to live here. I know you three live in that studio, but here you can have a real bed. You can eat and having your own place. You can come and go as you please.” You offered without looking, Rudy.

“I don’-“

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s okay, but the option is always there. Willie, we make plans for a skatepark-“

“Oh, you had me from the start.” Willie beamed tugging you into his arms, “I missed this. I missed you.”

“Me too.” You murmured into his warm embrace equally relaxed at knowing he was safe again. Your eyes clashing with the soft blue had Ideas songwriting already filled with lyrics of a pretty girl wearing a jean jacket with patches.

The lyrics turned into songs both in the studio and the cottage that Luke, Reggie and Alex accepted in Elysium. It had been a spirited discussion with Julie on moving to Elysium, but the boys were always there when she wasn’t in school. Often Elysium hosted a concert for the residents with the visitation of Julie.

Your reciprocated attraction with the messy-haired hazel-eyed guitarist flourished into a serious relationship. Luke took on the role of teaching how to play the guitar and songwriting. Alex took of mediation while Reggie worked with Harvey.

Willie quickly took on designing the skatepark he taught at while also taking a position at the ghost school.

“Morning.” The soft whisper roused your sleep into the golden glow of the morning light and chirping birds.

The growling aspect of his voice coming from only just waking up. The sight of Luke’s bleary eyes was heartwarming.

A year into moving into Elysium, Luke had asked if you’d like to move in as he was the only one in the original house. Alex had moved into the little cottage with Willie three months into the relationship while Reggie was going back and forth between Susie’s room and his own place.

“Morning.” You hummed leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“You know I thought my life ended when I died. That I could never find someone and have a family. That I couldn’t share my music with the world. I was wrong.” Luke murmured as he cupped your cheek in his hand, “The band is growing more and more each day. I found the love of my life, and we have a family with everyone. I haven’t felt like I had had home for so long, but I get it now. You’re my home. I love you.”

Your cheeks warmed up at the adoration Luke displayed in his expressive hazel green gaze just as it had since day one. The awe fell from his lips before you pressed a kiss to his lips, only one of the many in the eons to come.

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

Stay with me - [Hotch x Reader]

Request prompt: Heyyyyy I was wandering if you still took requests cause I’ve been dying to have this written. I’m thinking something about reader being youngest of the bunch at BAU and after a really intense and scary case everyone is kinda shook and in the jet reader can’t stop sobbing by herself in the back and hotch goes and comforts her and when they get home he goes with her home and holds her in her sleep and then they make love at like 3-4 am. I just need details and a lot of feels. I hope you’ll do it

Summary: After a tragic loss that rocks the entire team, Reader turns to her unit chief for comfort.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Overwhelmingly angst. then some smut and fluff.

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: Angst, mentions of torture suffered by a victim. Normal Criminal minds stuff. Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Unprotected sex.

A/n: I hope this is what you had in mind, Anon. This request just jumped out at me. This is set during season 9.

-- Stay with me --

stay is a sensitive word. we wear who stayed and who left in our skin forever.

- Nayyirah Waheed

-- September 2, 2013 --

Some cases stick with you long after you board the jet home. Some cases crawl inside your skin and hollow you out. Some cases become a part of you.

The team had been called to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to help catch a serial killer. I had only been a member of the BAU for 4 months, so it wasn’t uncommon for cases to still rattle me. Rossi said that I’d develop a thicker skin over time.

But this case seemed to even rattle him.

Over the past 15 years, on the same day every year, a woman’s body was found in a public place. She had been violently assaulted and tortured. The local M.E. always said the torture took place over the span of at least 10 months.

I felt my stomach roll when I read over the case file. I don’t think there was a form of pain he didn’t inflict on these women.

We had his prints; we had his DNA. None of that mattered, this man was a ghost.

September 1st had been fast approaching, and the local police knew they most likely couldn’t save the woman that had already spent the last several months with him. One deputy said that killing the woman would be a mercy, because “who could ever recover from that.”

We spent a week in Oklahoma; we started at the very beginning. I poured over the lives of 15 women, praying that maybe I could help us find 16 in time, praying I could save 17 before he ever touched her.

-- August 30, 2013 –

“Morgan,” Hotch said, his eyes scanning over the document in front of him. “I want you and y/n to interview Heather Pruitt’s brother.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up. “We’ve already talked to him, Hotch. He has an alibi. Do you think he knows something else?”

The unit chief nodded. “Heather was our first victim. She was important to the unsub.”

“Probably the most important,” Rossi chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Understanding why Heather was so special to him is how we catch him.”

Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” he trailed off. “Are you sure y/n is up for this?” He turned to me; hands raised. “No offense, it’s just that…”

“I’m young,” I finished for him. Dr. Spencer Reid was the youngest person to ever join the BAU…and I was the second. I was 25 years old. The closest person in age to me was the resident genius, Dr. Reid, who was almost 32. I had earned my spot in the team, but I was no Spencer.

Morgan nodded, not looking abashed in the slightest. “Maybe Blake would be a better choice, Hotch.”

His dark eyes ran over me, considering Morgan’s words. “I’m sending her in because she’s so young. People don’t perceive her as a threat.”

“They never saw me as one,” Spencer said softly.

JJ laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re still not a threat, Spence.”

-- August 31, 2013 –

“Mr. Pruitt,” I said brightly, extending my hand. “Thank you so much for coming to speak with us.”

The older man nodded, meeting my gaze evenly. “Anything to help you catch this son of a bitch.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Rachel, darlin’, why don’t you wait right here? I don’t want you to have to…hear about what happened to my sister.”

The woman, Rachel, was small and pale. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. “Of course,” she said softly, pressing a kiss against David Pruitt’s mouth.

"Do you need anything, ma'am?" I asked her.

“No,” she responded meekly. “I’m fine.”

I looked right into her eyes and smiled warmly at her before I turned away to follow Morgan and Mr. Pruitt into the interview room.

-- September 1, 2013 –

The entire team was standing around the precinct waiting for the call. JJ was gripping her cup of coffee tightly. Reid was staring at a map that was taped on the evidence board. Morgan was looking down at his phone while he talked to Blake. Hotch and Rossi were standing near the Sherriff of Broken Arrow.

We hadn’t stopped him. If he held to pattern, then victim 16 was already gone, and we’d be getting a call about her body soon.

I felt numb. I felt like I had missed something.

The shrill ringing of a phone made all of us tense up, every head in the precinct immediately turning to the receptionist at the front of the room. She spoke for a few moments before she hung up, giving the sheriff a grim nod. “She’s at the park off 6th street, Bruce.”

We all sprang into action, racing out the door to our vehicles. Morgan drove one SUV, Hotch drove the other. We knew we were too late for this girl, but maybe, just maybe, if we got there quick enough and the crime scene was fresh enough, we could find something.

The local police beat us there by a few minutes. Hotch hadn’t even parked before I was opening the door.

I couldn’t explain it then, but I had a feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was a darkness I couldn’t pinpoint, the sort of thing that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

She was on a park bench, her eyes wide and unseeing. “No,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Morgan sighed out before he turned and marched back to his SUV.

I felt someone’s hands grip my shoulders. “Y/l/n,” Hotch said gently. “I know, but we have to go. He’s revealed himself now. He’s going to try to run.”

And I knew he was right, so I bottled my feelings up as I ran towards the SUVs. We had to find David Pruitt before he left town.

He was our unsub. He killed his sister 16 years ago…and we were certain of that because the 16th victim was his girlfriend.

The same girlfriend that was within our reach yesterday. She was being tortured by this animal…and we had let her go home with him.

-- September 2, 2013 –

The mood on the jet felt heavy. No one was speaking, no one had said much of anything since we found Mary Beth in the park yesterday morning.

Her name wasn’t even Rachel. David Pruitt had to take everything from his victims, including their names. He broke her so badly that not only did she not scream for help in the middle of a police station, she probably couldn’t even remember her own name.

I couldn’t read the entire autopsy report. Rossi and Morgan went to the morgue to speak with the M.E.

Rossi said he was surprised she was even able to stand the day we saw her.

And that was the hardest thing of all. We fucking saw her.

I wasn’t quite sure how the rest of the team managed to keep their emotions so compartmentalized. I saw how this was bothering each of them, but none of them seemed close to breaking.

Not like I was.

I just kept seeing her face over and over again. Her wide eyes, her polite smile. The pictures of her broken body. How different her eyes looked when she was on the park bench. It was all on a loop in my mind.

When we boarded the jet, I sat in the very back, away from the rest of the team. I stared out the window, unseeing. How could I have missed it?

“Y/l/n,” a voice said softly. “Are you okay?”

I hadn’t realized that tears were slipping down my cheeks until I heard Hotch’s voice. I looked up at him. He was my unit chief, the strongest of any of us. If there was anyone I couldn’t afford to break in front of, it was him.

“Yeah,” I said hurriedly, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n.”

I just nodded. Please leave, please leave. If he walked away, maybe I could hold it together a little while longer.

But he didn’t leave. He knelt down beside me in the middle of the aisle. In the months since I joined the BAU, I had made sure to never get too close to SSA Hotchner. There was something about him that fascinated me…and I knew he was a good enough profiler to see it, because I wasn’t skilled enough to hide it.

This was the closest I'd ever physically been to him. I was close enough to notice that his eyes weren’t a flat shade of brown; they were a warm chocolate brown and he had freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n,” he said softly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his larger one. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. This is the job; we can’t save them all.”

“But I saw her,” I whispered, feeling the dam break inside of me. “I talked to her.”

Hotch must have realized I was already too far gone to hold myself together anymore. I just kept seeing her eyes, over and over and over.

He stood abruptly, pulling me up with him. He led me into the back area near the restroom. There was a small countertop here, but most importantly, there was a curtain that could be pulled closed, giving us all the privacy anyone could get on this plane.

I stared up at him in bewilderment while he closed the curtain. By the very nature of the area and given how big he was, our bodies were much closer together than I had ever allowed.

“I know you won’t break down in front of everyone else,” he said quietly. “You still feel like you have something to prove. You don’t, but I understand why you feel that way. You’re a part of this team, y/n.”

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, holding on to the last threads of my composure.

“Now, I can leave you here and you can pull yourself together,” he continued. “Or I can stay with you.”

This was one of the reasons I hadn’t allowed myself to be near him. There was something in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at me that always made me feel so safe. He was always fierce with a scowl on his face; occasionally he’d surprise me with his dry humor.

I hadn’t known his eyes could look so soft and it pulled on something inside me.

“I was so close I could have touched her,” I whispered. “And he…he…” I broke off as the first sob ripped out of my throat. Mary Beth was 23 years old. She had a younger brother and two loving parents. Her best friend, Anna, wore Mary Beth’s favorite necklace around her neck. None of them had given up hope.

And I had let her go home with him to die.

I had to watch when her parents got the news that we were so close, but he broke her too badly, she never cried out for help.

I closed my eyes to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks, desperately trying to pull myself together.

My heart hurt so badly I barely reacted when Hotch’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. I just buried my face against his chest while he rubbed my back. I was taking the comfort he offered, even though I didn’t deserve it. I was vaguely aware of him whispering against my hair, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

I failed her.

It took a few minutes for my tears to slow. I was able to bottle my pain back up again and take a few breaths. My arms were trapped between our bodies and when I went to pull them free, Hotch started to release me, no doubt assuming I wanted to end our embrace.

I didn’t.

I took a step forward when he took one back, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his shirt that I just realized was damp from my tears. “Is this okay?” I whispered.

He had frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around me again. “Of course, sweet girl.”

I was just so content to be in his arms that I didn’t even process the term of endearment. “I got your shirt wet.”

“It’ll dry.”

I hummed against him, still so reluctant to let him go. “You smell nice, Hotch.”

He chuckled quietly. “Thanks. And given our current situation, you can call me Aaron.”

I nodded; my thoughts still somber. “I let her down. I let her go. I could have touched her.”

His hands kept rubbing over my back. “You’ve never let anyone down,” he murmured. “Not even for a single moment.”

Aaron didn’t feel like my boss when his arms were wrapped around me. He was just a man who held me for as long as I had needed before finally releasing me, offering me a small smile when I moved int the bathroom to try and fix my face.

I don’t know what he said to each team member, but none of them paid any attention to me when I walked out. They weren’t ignoring me, they just seemed unaware of what happened, even though I knew they weren’t.

Whatever he had done, I was immensely grateful.

It was just after 10 pm when the jet touched down in Quantico.

“Go home,” Hotch said as we all grabbed our go bags. “The paperwork can wait til tomorrow.”

Rossi clapped our unit chief on the shoulder. “This one was a hard one. I know it’s painful, but we can’t save them all.”

But why couldn’t I just save her? I thought.

When we were walking off the tarmac, Morgan spoke. “Kid, lemme give you a lift home. It’s not far.”

Reid’s brows drew together in confusion. “Yes, it is. You live on the other side of town.”

"Just let me do something nice for you, smartass."

Their banter almost pulled a smile from me, but I couldn’t. Everything still felt so heavy.

“What about you, y/l/n?” JJ asked.

It wasn’t a secret that I took the train like Reid did. I’d only lived in D.C. for the four months I’d been a member of the team. Reid didn’t drive because of car crash statistics; I didn’t drive because I hadn’t gotten around to getting a car.

“The train is still running. Which is probably good,” I muttered to her. “It’ll give me time to think.”

She just nodded, giving my arm a squeeze as we all walked into the bullpen to gather the things we had left before the case.

I stayed in the bullpen longer than everyone else. It’s not that I didn’t love them, I truly did. But I just…I couldn’t be brave right now.

“I know it’s not my place, but I really don’t want you to take the train home.”

My lips pulled into a smile then, even though I couldn’t bring myself to face him. “It’s no big deal, Hotch. I’m a full-grown FBI agent. I’ll be fine taking the train home.”

“You might be,” he conceded. “But I won’t be.”

“What?” I questioned, unable to stop my body from turning towards him.

Hotch stepped closer to me, looking slightly unsure. “I…I’ll be worried.”

His words felt important, and I realized the thought of him worrying bothered me.

He heaved out a great sigh, his eyes looked so tired. “Jack’s already in bed, Jessica is staying with him tonight. Please, let me take you home.”

How could I tell him no?

The ride back to my apartment was quiet. Hotch seemed to know where I lived without me having to tell him. He had turned the radio on in his SUV, but the volume was so low it was just background noise.

I watched the raindrops roll down the passenger side window and all I could think about was Mary Beth. I wonder if she liked the rain.

“Don’t do that.”

My entire body froze before I turned to look at the man in the car with me. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Y/n, you did all you could. This isn’t on you. We were all in that precinct. I offered her my hand when she left the station.” His hands were now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Aaron,” I whispered, reaching out to put my hand on his forearm.

“If you blame yourself, you’ll have to blame me too.”

Tears started to fill my eyes again. I didn’t know what to say. “I couldn’t blame you.”

I saw his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on the building in front of us. I hadn’t even realized we had pulled into my apartment complex.

“Then you know why I can’t let you blame yourself.” He killed the engine and took his seatbelt off.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at me in confusion, like it should be obvious. “I’m walking you to your door.”

Oh. “Why?”

Aaron paused, considering his next words. “Because I can’t leave you yet.”

He was out of the car and opening my door before my brain could even process his words. I slid out beside him, clutching my jacket around myself. It didn’t help, the chill I felt was coming from inside of my body.

Aaron pulled my go-bag from the back seat then shrugged me off when I tried to take it from him.

Despite all the emotions I was feeling, I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Are you secretly a gentleman, Aaron Hotchner?”

He looked sheepish for a moment. My mean ass, always scowling FBI unit chief that intimidated almost everyone on a daily basis looked sheepish because I called him a gentleman.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” he warned, shutting the car door.

I felt a tiny smile tug up the corners of my lips. The first smile I’d felt since…

Just like that, the guilt hit me again. How could I be smiling?

We had just reached my apartment door when a tiny sob ripped out of my throat. “Aaron…I can’t stop seeing what he did to her. She was in pain. And she-she fought back. She didn’t want to…and I can’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart don’t do that.” He dropped my go bag and wrapped his arms around me, once again offering me the comfort I didn't deserve.

The only time I had felt right in the past few days was when I was in this man’s arms. My question slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think better of it. “Will you stay with me?” I whispered against his chest.

I felt his body stiffen. Fuck. I pulled away from him, quickly wiping at my face. “I’m sorry, Hotch. You’ve got Jack and you’re my boss. It’s inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

My hands were shaking when I reached to pick up my go-bag from the floor.

“Y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained, his hand grabbing mine right before I touched my bag. “It’s not Jack, he went to be hours ago. But I am your supervisor, and I can’t take advantage of you.”

His words hung in the air, feeling almost as heavy as the pain in my chest. “The only time I feel anything good is when I’m with you, Aaron.”

My eyes were fixed on his bigger hand that engulfed mine, but I felt his eyes on me.

“I don’t think I could leave you now even if I wanted to,” he mumbled.

My keys shook when I unlocked the door and once we were inside my tiny apartment, the gravity of everything finally seemed to hit me.

"I can leave, y/n," he reminded me as if he could tell what I was thinking.

I licked my lips, looking around the room before I could look at him. “I want you to stay,” I pleaded, trying to summon every ounce of courage I had ever felt. “I know it’s not…I’m sure it breaks a million regulations and protocols. But…can you stay with me tonight? I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

What I was asking him for was so much more complicated than just spending the night at my apartment. I think we both knew that if he stayed something was going to change.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

I was sitting up in my bed, picking at the threads of my comforter when Aaron got out of the shower. He’d insisted I shower first while he went to grab his go bag and call Jack’s aunt. I felt the energy around me shift the moment he stepped into the room.

“Are you okay?”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer him. "I don't know." I looked up, my eyes meeting his dark ones. "Can-can you stay with me? Just for a little while?"

For a moment I thought he might say no, but his shoulders dropped, and he jerked his head in a tight nod. “Of course.”

He came around to the right side of my bed, looking torn for a moment before I pulled the covers down, indicating I wanted him to get under. I laid my body down while he adjusted himself on to my bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a suit,” I mused, motioning to his t-shirt with a faded FBI logo and his flannel pajama pants.

He scoffed, pulling the covers up to his abdomen. “It’s a rare occurrence.” He had settled on his back, one of his arms bent behind his head, the other one resting on his abdomen.

“Aaron,” I breathed out. “Can I…will you…I don’t want to-“

“Hey,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “You can ask me anything, y/n.”

“Will you hold me?” I begged, my voice breaking in my effort to suppress my emotions.

My eyes were shut tight, so I didn’t see the look of agony that washed over Aaron’s face. I only felt his body shift closer to mine before his arms came around me again, bringing me flush against his side.

At that moment, even though I felt terrible about myself, I found some solace in the fact that a man like Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t be holding me like this if I were truly a monster.

His big hand ran up and down my back while my head lay on his chest; I was taking comfort from everything about him, his smell, the feel of him holding me, even the steady beating of his heart under my ear.

I made no move to pull away from him; it was selfish, but I couldn’t let him go.

“Thank you for staying,” I whispered into the darkness. Right before I fell asleep, I think I felt his lips brush against my forehead.

Several hours later my eyes snapped open when my body jerked suddenly. The instant my eyes were open the nightmare was gone, I could barely remember any of it, not that I needed to. What else could it have been about?

“Hey,” a voice rasped out. “Are you okay?”

I realized I was still in Aaron’s arms. My head was still on his chest, one of his arms was wrapped around my body.

He had stayed with me.

“Yeah, I think so. Just a nightmare.”

He hummed in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Aaron’s arm tightened around me. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

My fingers traced nonsense patterns over his chest, my mind racing. I felt so incredibly young then. I was lost in a sea of guilt and despair, and my only anchor was Aaron Hotchner.

It was easier to ask him in the darkness of my bedroom. “Do you feel this too?” I whispered.

The stillness that overtook his body indicated he knew what I meant. “Y/n…I...”

I lifted my head off of his chest, looking down at his face. “If I’m wrong, it’s okay to tell me.”

I saw those dark brown eyes scan over my face; I saw the indecision behind them. “I’ve felt it for a long time,” he said at last. “But you’re hurting, and I’m your-“

I brought a finger up to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. "Then make me not hurt. Please?" The finger I had on his lips started tracing the shape of them, over his cupid's bow, down to his fuller bottom lip.

With an amount of courage that I didn’t know I had, I pushed myself up, swinging my leg over his body. I leaned over his face bringing my lips so close to his. “Please,” I whispered against his lips. Just be with me. Be here with me, Aaron.”

I felt his self-control crumble a moment before one of his hands gripped my hip while the other slid behind the back of my head. He pulled me down until my lips were against his.

If I had allowed myself to think about kissing Aaron Hotchner before, this wouldn’t have been what I expected. His lips were gentle as the brushed against mine, his tongue wasn’t demanding when it slid against the seam of my mouth, his thumb brushed over my cheek while his tongue slicked against mine.

I was the one that broke our sweet kiss to pull my shirt from my body. Baring myself to him this way was nothing compared to how much of my soul he’d already seen. Those dark brown eyes were filled with heat when they ran over my body, his large hands felt reverent when they brushed over my skin.

He rolled us until I was on my back underneath him. Aaron kissed down the column of my throat, down over my collarbones until he reached my breasts. His mouth felt almost scalding when it covered my nipple. I arched up against him, a strangled moan tore from my throat when his blunt fingers slid into my panties.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against my skin while he trailed wet kisses down my stomach. “Can I?” he asked when he reached the band of my sleep shorts and panties.

If I had had any doubts that I wanted Aaron Hotchner, that question would have gotten rid of them. I was begging him to take me, to make me feel anything other than the pain in my chest…and he still needed to make sure I wanted this.

I hooked my thumbs into my waistband, pulling them down while those almost black eyes ran over every inch of newly exposed skin. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I rasped out.

He reached behind his back to grab the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it off of his body. Before I could blink, he had settled between my thighs, his mouth right above where I ached for him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

Any response I would have made was broken off by a loud groan when his tongue parted my folds. His tongue circled my clit before moving down to dip inside of me. The moan that vibrated against me when he tasted me was the sexist thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t feel anything but him.

My fingers threaded through his hair while his mouth worked me over. It didn’t feel like this was the first time we had been together like this. He touched me like he had known me for years.

But I needed more.

“Aaron,” I whimpered, my fingers tugging on his short dark hair. His eyes snapped open, but his mouth didn’t lift from my pussy. “I need to feel you inside me. Please?”

He pressed a final kiss to my pussy before he pulled away, moving up my body. Before he settled against me, he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted this, against my pussy while his upper body loomed over me. One of my hands pulled him down to me, crashing his mouth against mine; with the other I reached down to grab his cock, running it up and down my slit.

Aaron moaned into my mouth when I lined him up and he started to press inside of me. He gave a few swallow thrusts, allowing my body to adjust to his size before he slid all the way inside of me.

I had never had sex like this before. Sometimes in the past, it had felt like I was just loaning my body out to someone, taking whatever pleasure I got in return. This felt so different. Aaron moved against me like he needed me, his lips ran over my skin like being allowed to touch me was a gift.

He set a steady rhythm, his hips moving against mine in just the right way. He was kissing my neck, moaning my name against my skin when he brought his thumb down to my clit, massaging me while he moved against me.

“Aaron,” I breathed.

His mouth was against mine again. "I've got you, sweet girl, I've got you."

My nails dug into his back, my body arched against him, and my mouth opened in a silent scream when I flew apart underneath him. His head dropped down against my shoulder as he found his own release inside of me.

Aaron’s big body was settled on top of me, but he didn’t feel crushing, it felt safe.

When we had both started to come down from our orgasms, he rolled us against until I was on top of his body, my head on his chest. He pulled the covers over our bodies and pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“What happens in the morning?” I whispered out.

His head turned to look at the clock on my bedside table. “It’s technically morning now.”

“You know what I mean.”

I felt him nod. “What do you want to happen?”

I lifted my head up, my eyes meeting his dark coffee-colored ones. "Will you stay with me?"

His hand raised to cradle my face again, pulling me down to press the softest, sweetest kiss against my lips. “For as long as you want.”

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be.

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own.

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway.

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck.

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games.

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough.

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance.

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied.

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan.

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him.

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably.

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure.

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus.

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home.

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside.

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason.

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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alphadaddyderek · 3 years

Text

Not all math puns are awful, just sum (sterek fic, high school au)

ao3 link: click if you dare

summary: ’what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100’

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

AU where Stiles and Derek have to share a textbook and they write terrible math puns back and forth to each other.

Stiles sincerely, genuinely, regrets taking AP classes.

Well, kinda.

They would look great on his resume. Colleges wouldn’t even second guess accepting him and he would receive so many scholarships which would help his dad big time.

AP classes will also raise his GPA crazy high which, again, looks great to colleges.

Sometimes they just suck.

His AP Statistics class is definitely #1 on the ‘classes that suck straight ass list’.

It’s boring and it can be kinda hard. Plus it’s math so it’s automatically gross.

Stiles is good at math, but it’s not his forte, that’s more Lydia Martin’s thing.

Anyway, Beacon Hills High had to have some budget cuts this year, like, serious budget cuts. The sports teams are lucky that people care about people throwing balls all over the place, otherwise they would’ve gotten cut too.

Since the school has had budget cuts, the students don’t get individual textbooks anymore. Meaning, that they can only use it during class and then they have to leave it in the classroom for the next class to use.

So, yeah.

It’s the third week of junior year, AP Stat is as boring as always. He has Lydia to talk to sometimes but she has other friends in the same class, so he's not always entertained.

The teacher didn’t really care about whether or not students did the work, he just played chess on his computer the whole class anyway. He gave the page number that we were supposed to work on and that was that.

Stiles prefers that to lectures, but still. When he’s done the work there’s nothing left for him to do. He could go on his phone, but even that gets boring eventually.

What he’s trying to say is that he’s bored, okay?

Turning to the page that the teacher assigned, Stiles is shocked and wildly amused, to already see writing on the margins of the page. He figured it would take at least half the school year before people started vandalizing the textbooks. Although, it’s written in pencil so it’s easily erasable.

When Stiles actually reads what was written he snorts. Luckily, it’s loud in the class so the most attention he gets is when Lydia shoots him a weird look which he ignores.

'what is the probability that anyone will pass this fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100'

Stiles shakes his head because that was such a bad math joke that it was actually kinda funny. And, based on the expressions on people’s faces during class, also very true.

Should he write something back? Stiles doesn’t know if the person who wrote this is hoping for a response, or if they wrote in the book because they’re just as bored as Stiles is.

Eh, fuck it. Why not?

'i think there is statistical data to back up your theory’

Stiles snickers at his equally bad math joke before finally deciding to focus on the actual work. He didn’t want to be one of the ones who didn’t pass the class, because that would suck. So he does the work and for the remainder of the class he lets out a giggle or two every once in a while because even though he’s 16 years old, he apparently still has the sense of humor of a child.

π π π

It’s the next class and honestly, Stiles kind of forgot about the writing in the textbook. After he left that class he went to AP Geography where there was immediately a test, which he nailed by the way. Plus, with all his other classes, he just didn’t think it was important to remember a bad, but still funny, math joke in a textbook.

The teacher assigns them another page number full of questions to work on. And, just like last time, there’s writing in the margins.

‘i’m sorry, that was pretty mean of me to say’

That one has Stiles laughing out loud. Not too loud though, because he doesn’t have that much of a death wish. He just laughs loud enough to make Lydia send him another weird look, except this time Lydia questions him about it.

“What is so funny?” she asks, twirling her hair with her pencil.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing really. Just somebody writing lame math jokes on the book pages.”

“Well, you’re laughing at them. So doesn’t that make you lame as well?”

Stiles dramatically gasps.

“Wow, Lydia, that was pretty mean of you to say,” Stiles replies before bursting into more laughter.

At this point, Lydia is looking at him like he has brain damage but he really can’t bring himself to care. It’s hilarious and if she doesn’t think so then oh well. Her loss.

Well, she doesn’t know that that was the joke inside the textbook, but still, whatever.

It’s funny.

π π π

By this point, it’s kind of like Stiles and this unknown jokester are pen pals.

It’s been a week filled with terrible math jokes and Lydia probably losing more and more respect for him as the days pass.

He’s told Scott about his little pen pal and of course, Scott doesn’t really get it, but he’s supportive nonetheless.

It’s a Friday night and Scott is at Stiles’ house. They’re playing video games and eating so much pizza that Stiles will be bloated for an entire week.

Thankfully, his dad is on the night shift, otherwise, he would be heavily judgmental of Stiles’ life choices.

After several rounds of Mario Kart, they take a break to eat said pizza and talk a bit.

“So,” Scott takes a huge bite of his slice. “how are you and your math buddy doing?”

Stiles takes a bite of his own slice. “Why are you asking? Jealous?”

Scott laughs. “Oh yeah, I’m so jealous. Please, Stiles, make terrible math jokes with me.”

Stiles flips Scott off. “You only mock because you really are jealous.”

Scott rolls his eyes and then the topic is dropped.

At least for the next hour or so. Then after that, it gets brought back up.

“Do you think it’s weird to have a crush on someone you’ve never met?” Stiles asks, playing with a loose thread on his jeans.

Scott looks at Stiles, and Stiles does not want to see the weird look Scott has on his face so he continues looking down.

“You have a crush on this person?”

Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re funny, and obviously, they’re smart if they’re in AP Stat. I would like to meet this person though, maybe. I don’t know.”

Stiles feels his cheeks heating up.

Scott nudges Stiles with his elbow. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not weird at all. It’s kinda like online dating, but like medieval style.”

Stiles can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. “What?”

It’s like medieval style! ‘Cause, it’s in a book. Instead of online.”

Scott is always able to make Stiles feel better, no matter the situation. His goofiness especially lightens his mood.

“Okay, Scott. Are we going to go jousting next?”

“I don’t know. What you guys do on your first date is none of my business,” Scott says with a sly smile.

Stiles snorts and grabs a pillow off the couch behind them and smacks Scott in the face with it, resulting in a pillow fight ensuing.

And if anybody asks, Scott did not win. He didn’t!

π π π

2 weeks after he and Scott had that talk, Stiles continues talking with his pen pal. Although, maybe Stiles is looking too deep into this, but it kind of seems like flirting now?

Hear him out.

In the margins, the person started adding smiley faces and winky faces after every message.

Ooh and they actually put their initials! D.H.

Stiles doesn’t think he knows anyone in school with those initials. Granted, Stiles isn’t exactly a social butterfly so he’s not doubting their existence at all.

AP Stat only has 5 minutes left in the class. Stiles has already embarrassed himself in front of Lydia more times than he can count, so he decides to ask Lydia if she knows someone with those initials.

She purses her lips. “Why do you ask?”

Stiles sighs inwardly before answering. “Uh, well. I was just...wondering. Ya know. Trying to expand my friend circle.”

Lydia raises an eyebrow. And Stiles sighs outwardly this time.

“Fine. You know the jokes that were in the book?”

“You mean from like a month ago?”

“Well...we’ve kinda been continuing to exchange jokes and notes and stuff. And then recently they put their initials. Or, at least I think it’s their initials. I don’t know what else it would be. So, yeah.”

Lydia looks at him for a moment before her lips curl up into a smile. “You mean you’ve finally found someone who has a worse sense of humor than you?”

Stiles returns the smile. “I’ll have you know, my sense of humor is advanced. Way too advanced even for you.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, the only name that comes to mind is Derek Hale.”

Stiles chokes on his own spit. “Derek Hale? You mean the star of the basketball team? The guy with eyes that are like fifty different colors and bunny teeth that would look ridiculous on anyone else but he somehow looks gorgeous with them? That Derek Hale?”

“Yes. Other than that, I don’t know anyone else with those initials.”

“Does he take AP Stat?”

Lydia shrugs. Stiles takes that as a no.

There’s no way that Derek Hale is the one writing these notes. No way in hell. Stiles isn’t that lucky.

Plus, even if Derek is the one writing these, hypothetically speaking, Derek wouldn’t be interested in him. Don’t get Stiles wrong, he knows he’s a pretty attractive guy. But nobody in this school is as attractive as Derek Hale. Let's be real here.

Okay, maybe Danny. Danny is kinda gorgeous.

But besides Danny, nobody is even on the same level as Derek.

Well, Lydia is too.

Okay, dammit. People are on the same level as Derek Hale. The point is that Stiles isn’t.

Stiles sighs for what seems like the eighth time in. “Okay. Thanks.”

Lydia gives him a scrutinizing look before nodding and getting on her phone.

Stiles sits there and ponders why his life is like this before deciding that he must've done something to piss off fate in a past life. Pleased with his conclusion, Stiles shoves his notebook and pencils into his backpack just in time for the bell to ring.

π π π

Okay, so, Stiles must be going crazy.

When he saw that his pen pal had written his initials he figured, ‘hey, I might as well do the same. It’s only decent right?’ so he had, and ever since then Derek Hale has been shooting him looks in the hallway.

Maybe he’s hallucinating, because Derek Hale is, well, Derek Hale. Out of everyone in the hallway, why would he be looking at Stiles?

Also, Stiles can’t be the only person in the school with the initials S.S. although, he probably is the only S.S. that’s taking AP Stat so there’s that.

Stiles doesn’t know what to do, should he wave? Shoot him a smile?

Actually no, he should do neither of those things because if he does, and Derek actually wasn’t looking at him, that would be so unbelievably embarrassing. So embarrassing that Stiles would have to transfer schools immediately.

Stiles shakes his head and opens up his locker to gather his things for his next class. When he closes the locker Derek is standing right there like they’re in a horror movie and Stiles jumps so hard that he drops his notebook.

“Shit. Sorry,” Derek says and bends down to swipe Stiles’ notebook off the floor.

“No, it’s okay. You’re awfully quiet for an athlete.”

Stiles holds his hand out for his notebook but Derek doesn’t seem all that interested in returning it to him just yet. Derek looks at the front of his notebook.

“Hmm. AP Stat. Interesting.”

Stiles bites his lip and nods. “Yep,” he says popping the ‘p’. “it is interesting. Well, actually it’s not. AP Stat is yuck sometimes and it can get boring but it’ll look great on my resume so.”

Derek nods. He looks at Stiles for a few more seconds before he opens his mouth, and the second he does, Stiles’ stomach fills with butterflies.

“What is the probability that anyone will pass that fucking class? I’m thinking 1 in 100.”

Stiles bites his lip to stifle his smile. He doesn’t want to cheese like an idiot in front of Derek Hale but he thinks that ship has already sailed cause Derek’s lips stretch into a big smile.

Stiles clears his throat. “I think there is statistical data to back up your theory.”

“Oh, is there?” Derek asks, smile turning into a smirk.

Stiles nods then looks at his notebook that is still in Derek’s hand. “Can I have my notebook now? I’m not sure what exactly you’re plotting but I don’t like it.”

Derek scrunches his face up. “Wow, that was bad.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes. “Like yours were any better.”

Derek shrugs, smile returning to his face. “I thought my mean joke was pretty hilarious.”

“Yeah, hilariously bad. I didn’t laugh at all, not one bit.”

Derek looks like he doesn’t believe a word Stiles just said, which is fair, he shouldn’t.

“So,” Derek begins, eyes boring into Stiles’— seriously, what is up with Derek’s eyes? — “what is the probability that you will give me your number?”

Stiles pretends to think about it for a second. “I'm thinking 100 in 100.”

#stiles stilinski #derek hale #Sterek #sterek fic #high school au #quite possibly the worst math jokes ever in existence #my fic

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

the babysitter

pairing: reader x peter parker

summary: Babysitting the little Stark is an adventure, of some sorts. Well, being a (adopted) Stark is an adventure in itself. However, nobody told Peter Parker about the Stark babysitter.

author’s notes: I love Morgan Stark. I would die for her. Kill for her. MURDER even, just to keep her safe. Also, I love how easy we can just make her and Peter come together because they’re Stark’s kids (one biological, one is a sort of surrogate). Also, this idea is a common trope but eh, what’s not to love about it? Had to tweak it a bit by making reader two years older. And yay, I finally got to finish this before its initial release date (which is on Valentine's haha sorry yes am cliche like that sue me).

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

"Ah, shit."

"Shit!"

You froze, quickly turning on your heel to find a mass of brown hair and big brown doe-like eyes, filled with innocence and mischief all at once.

"Morgan! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she replied easily, tilting her head to the side. "Mommy said she has something to say to you."

"Oh, really now?" releasing a breath - not really shaky but something sort of relief, frustration, and a little bit of nervousness, you kneel to her level, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. "How long have you been looking for me?"

"A few minutes. Maybe 30."

With a smile, you get up. "Well, best not keep her waiting!"

Morgan giggles, seeing through you. She was always too sharp for her age.

You smile with her, a painful tug at your heart when you see the twinkle in her eye - an all too familiar twinkle.

Swallowing the dread, you plaster a quick smile and get to your feet. "Come on now, munchkin!"

She willingly lets you take her in your arms, walking along the compound down to Mrs. Stark's office.

Your relationship with the infamous CEO of Stark Industries was that you’re her cousin's daughter, making her your aunt-in-law. And in the absence of said cousin - your father, as he lived far off or on the other side of the planet, and after some unfortunate events, you were under Pepper's care.

Well, at least for the last 8 years of your life.

And since then, you could always remember how uptight, stern, and organized she was. It came with her job apparently. As was being stressed 24/7 because she had been dealing with the one and only Iron Man, Tony Stark.

Pepper had a great way of dealing with things, keeping some things to a T, and to keep a cool head with it all. Also, she was adamant about keeping you from Tony, away from the epitome of a machine of a man that he was. Oh, many were the nights where you were a witness to just how frustrating the man was, to how much Pepper had to keep herself from breaking down. You were not very fond of him – to say the least, you kinda hated him.

But upon meeting the man, later on, you found that he wasn't all that bad. In fact, he reminded you a lot of your father - workaholic to an extreme, and a bit of a softie. Just big on his ego.

As an added bonus, he completely won you over for being the guy for Pepper after deciding that you weren’t some runt after all.

After the events of Ultron, Tony decided to take you in and take you as if you were his own, treating you like his little assistant. (As he wasn't comfortable with having kids just yet.) You were pretty young, Pepper had that argument too and was fairly backed by Happy, but Tony was all, ‘then best start them young!’ and all went his way, one way or another. You were a smart cookie, at least that’s what Tony said, Pepper added that, and Rhodey – who still didn’t want to force something on to someone so young. And thus, your life with the Stark-Potts couple would never be the same - for better or for worse.

After the Accords, however, things were different. Much different. Both Tony and Pepper were never the same even way before that, but the former looked like a hollow of a man he once was.

As much as Pepper had more rights over you, she didn't want to be unfair and cut you off from Tony completely, and thus, let you do as you please. Honestly, it hurt having to go back and forth between the two, seeing two of the strongest people in your life thread on thin ice. Try as you might, you even attempted to get the two together only to end up with nothing. Happy was there, at least, to make you sane and moving. Rhodey, who still scares you, keeps you in check and on your toes.

However, things managed.

Then a lot of things happened: Tony and Pepper finally patched things up, finally got married - you were Pepper's maid of honor, you were whisked to some Ivy League thanks to Pepper and Tony’s recommendations, Tony suddenly was whisked away to the stars to save the universe, some war FRIDAY relayed in Wakanda, and then half the population turning to dust. A week later, Tony came back - with new friends from different galaxies, you all moved far away – far away from the Avengers, Tony insisted you to help Pepper to keep you busy, Morgan was born, you finished university, and were working on a master’s degree.

And then...Tony-

God, just the thought of him - what he did - still chokes you up. It hurt to hear from Pepper what had happened, to see her – the strongest iron lady you know and love – break into a million pieces, crumbling to the ground and disregarding every rule about grace and poise. Tony. He was like a father to you, the best and worst one you could ever ask for.

After his passing, you made it a point to keep his legacy alive, to ensure that it was protected at all cost - Morgan.

You loved the littlest Stark with all your heart, like the little sister you wished you had. Ever since she was born, already, you vowed to keep her from anything.

She was Tony's legacy.

Well, one of many...

There was that kid from Tennessee, Harley Keener, whom you had the chance and pleasure to be acquainted with.

And then there was-

"Who're you?" a voice asked behind you, breathlessly, curiously.

Turning on your heel, you found a guy - brown hair, pale skin, average height, fit in build, looked like he was around your age - walking in, looking like he had run a marathon.

Scrunching your nose, not really like the way he was trying to piece who you were, you fixed him a questioning look. "I'm-"

"(NAME)!" a bubbly voice called behind you, causing the two of you to turn.

Eyes widening, they then relax, you then sagged in relief and all but ran towards the little girl, taking her in your arms.

"There you are! Where've you been, you?" you ask, tucking strands of hair away from her face.

Giggling mirthlessly, eyes twinkling with mischief, she replied. "Nowhere~"

You rolled your eyes at that, playfully. Her grin grows, eyes crinkling when her lips lift, exposing dimples.

Looking over your shoulder, you nearly forgot the guy behind you, hoisting Morgan up.

"Oh, I'm (Name)," you tell him. "but I think you got that already."

The younger teen looks from the brunette in your arms to you, the cogs in his head whirring. "Are you...?"

"Nope, I'm just a babysitter." Quick to dismiss his question, you shake your head lightly. "An on call at that."

"Ah," was the only thing he could say, not sure what to say next.

"Peter!" the girl in your arms says, a smile still in check.

"Morgan, hey." he walks up, about two feet away.

It was your turn to look between him and the brunette in your arms, fixing an inquisitive look as to the cogs in your head begin to turn - two and two adding up. You did hear things from Pepper, Happy, and Tony.

Like a light bulb moment, you pointed at him. "You're the Spider-Man, aren't you?"

First, he sputters, face morphing into a look of surprise, shock, and embarrassment which ends with his face flushing to the tips of his ears.

Little did he know that you knew long before his cover had been blown.

"Don't worry. Happy's not really that good at keeping a secret." You assure him. At that, Morgan chuckles. You chuckle with her, sharing a knowing look as you bump your noses together. "Well, more like, he's slipping."

"Or getting old!" Morgan chirps.

You share a laugh, again. This time, Peter joins in.

"Anyway, is there something or anything you needed?" you asked, remembering his sudden appearance, adjusting your hold on Morgan, who now was resting her head on the crook of your neck.

"Oh...I, uh, I was just..." he fumbles, fidgeting with his fingers as you stand there, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence. "...um, I was told to come over...?"

Puzzled, your brows narrowed together. "By who?"

"Me." A voice booms, you all turn, staring at a dark-skinned man donning familiar colors. A taller man stands by him, almost like a shadow.

In the years under Tony and Pepper’s tutelage, months spent and having unlimited access to nearly everything that is related to the Avengers, you found yourself in contact with the new Captain America and his trusty companion, the Winter Soldier.

At first, it was quite intimidating. They were intimidating. But soon, you found yourself warming up to them. They were like brothers, you adored them so much.

Suddenly, the room felt like there was purpose as the two men strode in, and you felt even smaller in their presence.

Just as you motioned to leave, Morgan pipes up, “Sam! Bucky!”

Over time, Peter became a familiar face in the compound.

Aside from helping clean up the mess that Quentin Beck and his lackeys did to the poor boy, he was also heralding in for his part with the new Avengers - Sam Wilson, now bestowed with the mantle of Captain America, with the infamous Winter Soldier, Sgt. James Barnes, as his right hand, much to the displeasure of many governments.

Then again, who were they to decide what's best for this world when they knew nothing of the battles these brave men fought for? Who were they to decide who carries the mantle? It's not theirs, government-issued or not.

Also, in the past years of their hiding, and fighting off Zeemo, they've proven themselves countless times and earned the hearts of many. Whether they like it or not, they were the best choice to serve and defend the innocent.

For Peter Parker, physically 18 years old, filling in his spot for the team was huge.

He was in leagues with a whole bunch of other heroes – Hulk, Dr. Bruce Banner; War Machine, James Rhodes; Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff; Dr. Strange, Dr. Stephen Strange; Ant-Man, Scott Lang; Wasp, Hope Van Dymme; and off the grid were the Asgardians of the Galaxy, and Carvol Danvers, Captain Marvel. Just to name a few. Sure enough, there would be more heroes coming in, it’s only a matter of time after all.

It was a big world - universe, rather.

Eventually, the kid also grew on you, for many reasons. But in those many reasons, it also felt kind of weird - you werethree years older than him. Physically speaking.

He would have been 23, just three years older than you, had he not been snapped away. Or blipped away.

Yawning, you leaned back, stretching your arms overhead. Peeking back at your laptop, to your dismay you found that was still 10 in the morning, there was still a lot of work to do!

Groaning, you made sure to drag on said groan as you massaged the back of your neck. There were a bunch of emails to check, some invitations to decline, and one Thaddeus Ross to bitch about-

“Coffee?”

At the sound of the voice, you looked up and were met with soft brown eyes belonging to one Peter Parker.

“Peter, hey!” reaching for the cup, you wrap both hands around it, relishing in its rich aroma. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Having to face your laptop for hours' end, glancing up just barely with how slow your morning was, it really was. Taking a sip, you let the beverage warm your system and kick in, shoulders sagging. “and a savior.”

The corners of his mouth lift, eyes shining a bit, awkwardly shifting foot to foot. “W-Well, I know how much you work. And how much you love your coffee" he does, strangely enough, to note that you loved it black in the wee hours of the day with a bit of cocoa nibs.

"That I do, Petey, that I do."

He watches you take another sip, your eyes momentarily meeting your laptop screen before looking away quickly - nope! Here's your coffee break, take it.

"I see, uh, that you've been busy."

Sighing, you lean against your seat. "Kinda. Sorta. But, yes."

A little while after you first met, you made sure to properly introduce yourself to the lad, keeping in mind that he was an Avenger and that he'd see more of you now that you worked for Stark Industries, and the Avengers.

"Even though you should be…” he glanced away, words failing him.

“I should be…?” you picked up on the end tail of his sentence.

Gulping, his gaze suddenly drops, looking around helplessly. You sat there, worried, taking sips time to time.

It might be his sixth sense – aptly dubbed as his Spider-senses, but he seemed to know exactly how much you loved your coffee. That, or he was really observant.

“Peter, are you okay- “

“Writing!” he suddenly bursts out. “You like writing, right?”

His eyes land on the books on the side of your desk, and a framed article you had written years back for TIME magazine.

Following his gaze, causing you to turn in your seat, you can’t help the soft expression on your face. “Ah, that.”

Using the heel of your foot, rolling forward, you reached for the frame then rested your still warm drink between your thighs fingers smoothing the corners. “Funny story, Tony made me write it. Pepper gave me the idea.” The article was basically about questioning Thaddeus Ross and the Accords and if it was really pro-government and pro-hero at the same time. “Mind you, at the time, things had just been rocky with the whole mess of the Avengers, Tony and Pepper were not in good term. Writing this had been the closest I got them to speak again, because of how I had written it and its effects.” Memories of Pepper giving snide remarks at people who talked shit to you, rebutting gracefully, and Tony, wisecracking any troll who messed with you online. Those were fun times. Messy, but fun times. As you spoke, Peter quieted down, eyes never leaving you as you spoke. Looking at the article one last time, you set it back on your desk before picking your drink and taking a sip. “So, yeah. I do. Love writing, I mean. “

“And haven’t you thought of doing that instead?”

Noting his implication with a hum, you continued. “Instead of handling hero-related antics, right?”

Instantly, his face flushed, expression mixing up as he jumbled on his words. “N-Not that what you’re doing is wrong or anything! I-It’s just…you can-“

“Relax Peter!” You laugh, hand raised to calm him. “I know what you mean. It’s just that,” pushing yourself back, you swayed a bit in your seat “this is my job now, something I’ve been doing for a while and one I enjoy. Stressful as it is, it’s still fun. At the very least, I’m still writing. Plus, I get to be with you guys! So, that works, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” breathing returning to normal, he nods, replying breathlessly. “yeah, yeah, yeah. T-That’s true.”

Tilting your head, seeing that he wasn’t fully satisfied with your answer, you humor him. “Given the chance, I would’vebeen in the writing field. Who knows? Writing as some underground slob, some hermit, or rise amongst the ranks of those high-profiled writers, or for TIME...”

Smiling wistfully, you were just about to take a sip again when it dawned to you. “Oh, what are you doing here, anyway? Do you have a meeting with Pepper?”

“Miss Potts- oh. Oh, no!”

“Did you wanna see Morgan then?”

“No, no!” he was getting more panicked, which was worrying. Putting down your coffee, you brought both hands to your desk and pulled yourself in, the desk separating you and Peter. He was muttering something under his breath, something you didn’t catch.

“Petey?” ducking your head, for a closer look at him, getting a closer inspection of how hazel brown his eyes actually are.

“U-Uh…” he gulps under your gaze. "...um..."

“Hey, (Name), I need your help with someth-“a new voice pipes in.

The two of you turn, (E/c) eyes widen at the new visitor, instantly, you were on your feet and running towards him.

“Harley!” engulfing him in a hug, you laugh mirthlessly at his presence. “Oh, my god you’re here! How are you? What are you doing here?”

Dang, you forgot just how tall he was!

“Uh, I’m supposed to work on my grant with Miss Potts,” he says, almost carefully staring from you to the lad behind him.

“Ah, yes,” you nodded, snapping a finger and pointing at him in realization. “that was today. Unfortunately, Pepper’s busy with something. Fortunately,” you tilted to your side, hands clasped in front of you then pointing index fingers at him. “Ican lend you a hand.”

Harley smiles at this, especially at your dorky dramatics, you grin back toothily.

Then you remembered that you weren’t alone.

“Oh! Where are my manners? Peter, this is Harley Keener, one of Tony’s boys.”

“You make it sound like I'm a booty call.” Harley grumbled beside you, making you snort and elbow him playfully.

“Well, Tony has a way of calling people and it rubs off pretty easily when you’re around him a lot.”

The taller lad rolls his eyes – playfully, used to your language and overall attitude as a reminiscent of one Tony Stark. Peter, who was still standing there, looks dumbfounded between the two of you, unsure what to do before you called on him.

“Sorry Peter, but I have to attend to Harley. Guess I’ll see you around?”

“U-Uh, sure…yeah.”

Hooking your arm around Harley’s you both walked out, but not before grabbing your still warm coffee from your desk. “Thanks again for this, Petey, bye!”

“He seems nice,” Harley comments, once the two of you get to the elevator.

“Yeah, he is.” You nod, sipping your coffee. “Now tell me, any updates on that crush of yours?”

At this, Harley’s face burns as the elevator doors open.

As Pepper’s assistant, you were basically tasked to help make Pepper’s job easier. As PR, at the same time, you were tasked with dealing with the Avengers’ publicity and ensuring that they look good and handling whatever the media throws their way. Because you were practically raised by Pepper, and the one and only Tony Stark/Iron Man, schooling the media was child’s play to you. Plus, it was really fun dealing with famous people who weren’t super-powered.

Still, as much as you enjoyed your job, you especially loved the quirks that came with it. One of the obvious being that you get to hang with the Avengers. Half of them – who were Tony’s faction during the Civil War bullshit, you grew up with, and the rest just grew on you later.

It was a Friday when you found yourself swinging by the training grounds, looking for Bucky or Wanda with a bag of cheeseburgers to share with and some papers. However, the floor seemed to be empty. Just as you were about to call for F.R.I.D.A.Y. (the AI), you found yourself slipping on some liquid, falling backward with your arms flailing in the air, smacking a nearby tray holding a pitcher and glass.

Faster than you could react, a blur was by your side, a firm grip on your shoulder, and with his free hand, easily caught the tray, the pitcher, the glass, and its contents. All before you could even blink.

“W-Woah…” you breathed, feeling your heart beating wildly against your chest. That could’ve been one nasty accident where you could’ve been wet, hurt, or both!

“(N-Name)! Are you alright?” asked your savior, making you blink at him.

It was Peter.

“Peter…” you said, almost to yourself.

Effortlessly, he set the tray aside, his hand still on around your shoulder, making you feel his strong arm around you.

“I-I’m sorry about that, must’ve tried to do some physics trick but ended up failing and all…” he replied, looking at the water on the ground.

“Ah,” you responded, getting the idea. Surprisingly, with a crinkling sound, you were still gripping unto the cheeseburgers and the papers- no, wait, they’re gone.

Turning your head around, you searched for those papers – which probably should be on the ground from the way you threw them up from the slip.

“Here,” Peter suddenly appears in front of you. Upside down.

“Woah, this is cool,�� you remarked all wide-eyed, taking the papers from him, watching him bend over the ceiling to drop to the ground. “Seeing your abilities up close and personal.”

“I-I have other abilities, too!”

“Yeah, I know. You have superhuman strength, enhanced agility, and a super brain.” You list off, heading to the counter to drop the cheeseburgers and papers Pepper assigned you to send around. "No, wait, Happy mentioned it was something else..." scrunching your face, you ransacked your brain for it. "Er, what was it...oh! Peter tingle, right?"

He nearly tripped on his feet but caught himself instantly. "Spider senses! It's called 'Spider Senses'!"

"Ah, is that what it's called?"

That makes Peter sigh, almost frustratingly – like he was to throw a tantrum then and there. He really is a child, you thought.

“I’m teasing you, Pete.” You laugh, leaning against the counter, watching him seemingly deflate, ears slightly red. “But, if you don’t mind me asking," folding your arms behind you, you carefully approach him "can you just break it down to me just how your Spider Senses work?”

Caught off guard by your question, Peter puffs his cheeks. “Um, err…” he shuffles, scratching the back of his neck as words fail him.

Circling, you hop on the counter behind you, patiently waiting on him.

Seeing just how genuinely interested you seemed to be with his powers, it excited him a bit. You weren’t being pushy about it either. In fact, he’s seen you quite a handful of times, and you were always sure to be nice and welcoming, treating him Peter first, Spider-Man second. There were only about a few people who were genuinely interested in how his abilities worked really, one of them was Ned, then there was Mr. Stark, then there was Sam, and then Bucky. And then, you.

“So, um…I’ve got these senses.” You nod encouragingly. “And, uh, they help me be keenly aware of my surroundings and help me react.”

“Meaning, you have times ten the reflexes?”

“…kinda?”

Recalling the almost incident earlier, it was amazing to know just how quick he responded before the inevitable. “That’s cool. I didn’t know spiders could do that.”

“Y-Yeah…” he could only reply, noting how pleased you were with his explanation, how your beating calmed him-

“If this were a comic book, then what you have would probably be the most overpowered ability of all. Still, thanks for telling and trusting me.”

Clearing his throat, he slowly approached you. “So, uh, what brings you here?”

“What, I can’t be here?”

“N-No- th-that’s not-“

Really, he was so cute with the stuttering and all.

“Are you always this awkward around people? Or just girls?”

You really reminded him of Tony Stark with your charm and quips.

“You’re kinda difficult to approach, I guess?”

“Oh, so, I’m a science problem now?”

Peter’s mouth gaped at that, at a loss what to say next. Which in turn, caused you to laugh, head pulled back.

“You’re cute, Peter Parker.” Hopping off the counter, you reached out to pinch his cheek before turning back to fetch the paper bags. “I brought burgers for Bucky and Wanda, sadly, they’re not here, wanna eat them?”

Ever since the spider bite, life for Peter Parker was never the same. And it was probably a given to those who wielded great power, and now, he was one of them.

However, he would never imagine that because of that very spider bite, he’d be in leagues with people he’s admired for a while – the Avengers.

His life would forever change the moment Tony Stark sat in his apartment living room, chatting casually with his aunt, interrogated, and basically recruited him to his faction. Unofficially, that had marked his joining the Avengers.

But it was the Battle with Thanos months later that he was officially an Avenger, which later resulted in him dusting away for five years, then he came back for another fight for his life and the universe, they won but at the cost of Earth’s mightiest heroes. Months following after that were spent in constant fear and mourning that he tried to fight with his teenage life.

Funny thing was, just when he thought life was going his way, there’d always be something to nope him out of it. Mysterio, for one, hijacking his Europe trip and revealing his identity to the world.

For a while, his life was sure to spiral out of control and he’d be torn from his life. Nope.

Because he was an Avenger, not only was he backed by his colleagues, the government – what good half of it anyway, S.H I.E.L.D. and good civilians who were recipients of the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’s kindness, the fear of his civilian life was protected and secured.

He just never expected that with becoming an Avenger, he’d have the chance to go places, experience new and exciting things, still be himself whilst growing up-

"Alright, little munchkin, open up!"

-and then there was meeting you, (Y/N) (L/N).

By blood, you were Pepper Potts-Stark’s niece-in-law, but by paper, you were practically her daughter/sister, more so as her trusty assistant.

Physically, you were three years his senior. Had the Snap not happened; however, he’d have been three years older than you. Still, he towers over you despite being the ‘littlest guy’ – as Sam would put it.

Using his heightened hearing, he followed after until the voices were closer, and he was standing by the doorway to the kitchen where you were.

You weren’t alone though. No, sitting by the counter, happily watching and smiling at you was little Morgan Stark.

It's a first for him to see you like this - in more casual, comfortable clothes, especially in shorts where he can see your legs. He had to pull himself out of it as he remembered that Morgan was there, singing some song as you sang with her.

It was a Disney song, he realized, from that one movie.

While the two of you were having a mini-concert, the smell of something being cooked filled the kitchen.

“Pasta,” he thought to himself, aloud.

“Peter!” the littlest Stark called from the counter, struggling to hop down, before you helped her down, tiny legs barreling towards him.

Anticipating her approach, he knelt to catch her in his arms, twirling as he entered the kitchen – the smell growing stronger.

“H-Hey, (Y/N),” he says to you, standing straighter.

Offering a smile, you turned back to check on the pasta sauce you were making. “Hey Peter,”

Unsure of what to say next, he lets Morgan play with his hair before coming up with a reply. “F-Fancy seeing you here,” he said lamely.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Realizing his mistake, he nearly drops Morgan, sputtering words. “T-That’s not- No! U-Um,” you were calmly stirring the pot, body turned to him, letting him know that you were listening. “I-I…It’s just, I’m not used to seeing you so casual…I guess?”

“Ah,”

Seriously, why was he so lame?

“It’s my day-off.” You say simply, switching the fire off. “And I make sure to use up my time keeping sane with the help of the world’s most adorable little girl, isn’t that right, Morgan?”

"Working too much is evil!"

"Sometimes I wonder where and how you learn these things," you mumble laughingly, head shaking. "must be a Stark thing."

He laughs with you in agreement. Morgan was scaringly too smart for her own good, clearly from her Stark genes.

"Most definitely a Stark thing," he agrees with you, laughing, eyes glued on your form as you hunt around the kitchen for something. "Need some help?"

"Ah, yeah." Pointing at the pot of sauce, you say. "Can you be a dear and bring that to that table over there?" with the same hand, you bring it back to the small dining table behind you, where plates and utensils sat. "Oh, and be sure to use mittens," you add, producing two kitschy kitchen mittens - one that was an embroidered goldfish, of some sort. "I'm not sure just how strong you are, but you can't be that strong against heat against metal."

"Ha ha, a science joke, I see." he says, taking the handle with both hands.

"It's not rocket science, silly." Holding a bowl full of pasta, you hastily grab a pair of tongs, before the two of you were walking towards the dining room. "Okay, there we go. Oh, just put it right here, Petey." you point at the empty coaster next to the pasta bowl, where he carefully lays it down. "Great, thanks!"

Hands on your hips, you admire your work, clasping both hands together before rubbing. "Okay, lunch is set! Now, where's my little Morgan?"

It was almost too cliché and overused at this point, but nobody that deny that charity galas were almost always a selling point to earn the trust of the most esteemed, high-profile, and probably the snootiest people in the world- all of which, were Tony's words that he had told you years back.

You hated these kinds of events, but again, they sold off to the rich and the famous. And they were a great way to rub elbows with just about anybody.

Never leaving Pepper's side, the both of you welcomed in guests after guests, receiving warm regards from ambassadors, warding off leering looks from power-hungry businessmen, laughing with nobles and socialites, and being graced by esteemed guests. Honestly, you had to give it to Tony and Pepper for bearing with these lot, just being in the same room with them and inhaling their pricey perfumes made you feel ten times older.

When all was said and done, you rushed towards where the Avengers were - all of which were dressed to the nines, all looking like literal gods in a sea of mortals.

Laughingly, half of them seem to enjoy the festivities, some looked bored to death (but came for the chance of exposure), some looked uncomfortable, and mostly seem to just enjoy parading themselves.

It was easy to spot Peter Parker among them, being - as Sam put it - the littlest guy because the rest of the women were in heels.

Meeting your gaze, he lifts his hand into a tiny wave. Giggling, you winked and gave him a peace sign, before turning to a waiter offering drinks. Taking a flute from his tray, you were unaware of the boy's eyes locked on you as you clung to Pepper's side, wearing a polite smile that illuminated your face and the dress you were wearing.

It's just...You look pretty in that dress. Like, really pretty. Maybe prettier than usual

Well, you were always pretty to him whatever you wore - may it be office wear, casual wear, even a bean bag, but tonight, that dress made you look mature, exquisite, and divine. The makeup on your face highlighted some of your features quite well - not too much, but enough to really emphasize your cheeks, your lips, your eyes. And your hair was in a simple style but enhanced your look. Overall, again, you looked really pretty.

Too engrossed in his stare, he nearly jumped in place when Shang Chi came into his field of vision, smirking knowingly down at the young boy.

"That's an intense stare you got there, wanna go talk to her?" the newest Avenger asked, golden eyes alight with life.

"U-Uh...?" he sputtered, feeling the blood rush to his face, just as he saw your face light up - if possible, it made the whole place shine brighter - when Morgan ran up to you. Her dress was a poofier and lighter version of yours.

"No worries, little brother," whispered the man, smirk still in place as he watched you nuzzle Morgan's nose with yours. "I'm not telling."

Okay, he felt screwed.

With all the glitz and glamour that filled and surrounded the life of one Tony Stark, it takes a certain amount of temperament and training to turn one so thick-skinned and fluent in the art of socializing from the regular folk to the nouveu riche to the beau-monde. Despite careful years of watching, observing, absorbing, and taking things into action, the results were the same: it was pretty exhausting.

You didn’t know how Tony did it, nor do you want to know. I mean, there were years of alcohol and therapy. Not to mention, his hands just itching to tinker.

Pepper fared in the best way she could. Seriously, she was the personification of the phrase, ‘grace under pressure’.

Well, maybe until she has someone she can finally rip apart.

Having excused yourself from the scene, you desperately needed to be away from all the glitzy fanfare – too much of it might actually render you insane.

You find yourself in what seems to be a lounge area. There were plants, paintings, some comfortable sofas. Music could be heard from the gala nearby, but here it came as a gentle thrum and hum.

“How’s the party going?” someone asked.

You whipped your head around, searching, finding an old man sitting by one of the sofas.

Putting on a smile – tired, but polite, you say. “Well, it’s still going,” he laughs at that. “Starks’ legacy continues to fill the night. Hopefully, it’ll end well for business and pleasure.”

He laughs again, a gentle, hearty laugh. “Well, that’s a relief. And quite the expectation.”

“Well,” you didn’t mean to sigh so heavily, brows raised slightly. “it is what it is.”

Nodding at the older man, you were just about to find a balcony only to stop in your footsteps.

Slowly, very slowly, you looked back to the lone soul sitting by the sofa – sharply dressed, small, frail, but his posture said otherwise, as did his smile.

And his eyes.

Suddenly, you realized why that old man with astoundingly baby blue eyes with a kind smile looked familiar. You were careful in your approach, as to not bring any attention. "Mr. Rogers?"

Familiarity radiated off his features as he took you in, the same familiar smile on his face. "Hi, (Name),"

"Hi..." you said back in awe, unsure what to do, or say.

"Wow, you're so big now." Baby blue eyes take you in, so warm and threatening to swallow you whole. "And you used to be the littlest thing."

Memories flash of a younger you meeting the famed war hero, Tony by your side. His dashingly, boyishly handsome face. Walks around the compound or the park with his gentle hands in yours. Warm hugs after a bad day at school. The sad look in his eyes when he left the compound. Regret, guilt, and sadness during Tony's burial-

"Come sit by me," he invites, patting the spot next to him.

That seemed to snap you back to your current time, forcing your legs to move. One step becomes two, then three, until you were next to him, (e/c) eyes not leaving his now small and frail form. A far cry from the hulking teddy bear of a man you're used to.

Gentle music from the gala filled in the silence, which just dragged on.

Steve smiled, simply smiling by the silence, blissfully knowing your state of confusion by his presence. But he was content, to say the least, to share the silence with you.

This man, Steve Rogers to many, known as Captain America to all, but to you – and a select few, he was more than that.

In spite of what happened – Ultron, Sokovia, their Civil War, Thanos, this man meant a lot to you, had a special place in your heart that rivalled only to Tony Stark.

"You know,” you said slowly. “Pepper never blamed you...after everything that had happened."

Turning to you, his eyes widened slightly. "Did she now?"

You nod, earrings dangling with you. "It was inevitable, ever since Tony was kidnapped and Iron Man happened. Since the moment those two fell in love, and the Avengers came to be." Breaking into a short laugh, you added. “Maybe even before you and I joined in the mix.”

"Did you blame me?" he asked you, suddenly, his baby blue eyes, though faded with age still held so much emotion.

That question would've been easier to answer then - after months of seeing Pepper and Tony's relationship in turmoil, Pepper in tears, Tony's PTSD, Rhodey's injury, Happy's added stress, the death of the closest thing to a father you'll ever have - but now, all things considered, and with Tony's annoying way of rubbing off you, you knew your answer now.

"No. I don't think I could." You reply, smiling softly at him. "Plus, you remember his speech, right? 'Part of the journey is the end'? Somewhere, deep inside his clusterfuck of a brain, he knew that his death was something he feared very much yet knew would put things into perspective."

"You are Tony's girl alright,"

You scoff, ducking shyly, comforted by his words. "Adopted, maybe."

Lifting your head, it felt like you were young again, meeting Steve Rogers for the first time. Except this time, there was no Tony by your side, but you took comfort in knowing that the phantom comforting chill running down your spine was him.

Steve smiled, one that reached his eyes.

"It's so good to see you again, (Name)."

"Me, too." Eyes misting as you broke into a huge grin, it really felt like you were a kid again.

And it that moment, he couldn't help but feel the same.

"Would you care to indulge this man with a dance?"

"I would love to."

(E/c) eyes wandered about to all the couples that had gathered on the dance floor, humming to the beat of the music – jazz, was it? Maybe something gypsy-like? Do they even allow those kinds of music to be played? Soft jazz, maybe.

The music was gentle, soothing, fitting for the event. It was enough to make your heart settle, after a long, engaging, and rather exciting night.

And It was probably far from over.

From where you stood, the second floor balcony that overlooked the whole area, a rather grand view as though you were some lord. But no, you just needed a breather, to slow down the night that was far from over.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, rather loudly to catch your attention.

Looking over your shoulder, you find that it was Peter. "Y-You...uh, you look really nice, (Name).”

Lips quirked up, you reply. "Thank you, Peter. This is all Pepper. And, well, Maria." After much thought, fingers smoothing over the fabric of your dress, you added, with a pained smile. "And Morgan. Wanda. Sam. Bucky." You tick their name one by one with your fingers.

"Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes?" he was stood next to you now.

"They convinced me to come, after much protest. Morgan picked my dress, really."

"You sound so out of place." His brown eyes search yours. To be at the receiving end of those eyes of his, such big, kind, and warm eyes, made you feel all sorts of funny.

"Oh, trust me, I am. This isn't my scene, y'see, also because I don't really go to these kinds of events. I'm more used to being behind the scenes, working back, or doing my homework while everyone partied." A certain memory roused from the back of your brain, making you chuckle sadly. Having sensed this, thanks to this spider senses, Peter looked up. "Tony," shucks, the mention of his name still hurts. "he would annoy the hell outta me, Pepper, too," she chuckled, almost garbled by the emotions thick in her throat. "but both never forced me if I didn't want to. Sometimes, they'd finish up extra early and bring home junk food to keep me company." Finishing with a sigh, she looked out the dancing couples before her eyes landed on a familiar strawberry blonde woman effortlessly elegant in her own right, ethereal under this light, but ever so heartbreakingly lonely and painful to look at.

Peter followed your gaze, swallowing thickly at that.

"Sorry you had to hear that sob story," you says, in an attempt to lighten the mood, quirking into an easy expression.

Downstairs, the music peaks up, a new song being played.

"Well, to make up for it, do you want to take your mind off it with a dance?"

That made you jump, turning to the younger boy, who was red in the face but had that look of determination in his boyishly handsome face.

You had to chuckle at that, heartily. "Wow, you're good. But okay."

Bucky didn't like it - that little punk was crushing on (Name). Bad.

Thing was, she was pretty oblivious to this. Bucky didn’t like that either. As much as she was Stark's girl, when it comes to things concerning her, it just passed off like the wind. Or maybe water. No, oxygen. Point is, she'd never know unless it was pointed out.

“If you look any harder, the kid’s head might combust.” A voice says next to him, belonging to a familiar blonde – Sharon Carter.

The Winter Soldier made a noise in his throat, eyes cold. "I don't like the way that kid's looking at her,"

"Make you think of Becca, Buck?" Steve asks, humor in his tone.

“Shut up, punk.”

“Well,” Sam appears, elbows on the railing, faint smile quirking his lips. “they are kinda cute.”

Well, fine, they are kinda cute together.

“Good luck trying to tell her that, though.”

But he won’t say it out loud.

#alicemitch09 writes #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #reader-insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #peter parker #spider-man #fluff #tom holland #tom holland spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

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Could you please write #43 grandparents/neighbors one?

43. we’re having our family meal at my grandparents’ house this year so fingers crossed your parents still live next door and you grew up to be even hotter

from winter writing prompts here

oh god this one got so long. sorry everyone! thank you to @k-sci-janitor for the alien bit because it was so fucking funny

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

Holidays have gotten a little weird to manage since Newt transformed into a fully-fledged adult with an apartment and a job and stuff, so while he hasn’t made it to the big Geiszler celebration in Germany every December since starting college out of elementary school, he still tries to make a point of dropping by his dad’s for dinner and a movie or something to fill his holiday quota. It’s fine by him; he loves his family, but they’re definitely overwhelming, and trying to submit final grades and work on syllabuses for the next semester all while distant relatives ruffle his hair and ask him when he’s going to hit his growth spurt is not his idea of a relaxing time. It’s a constant point of contention between him and his dad. This year more than most, apparently.

“Your grandmother misses you!” he tells Newt sadly over their Chinese takeout. “She calls me every week to ask how you are, and why you never visit with them. Every week.” He waves a fork at Newt. “You’re breaking her heart.”

“I’m in the lab, like, twenty-four-seven, dad,” Newt sighs. It’s a well-rehearsed conversation at this point, but it doesn’t get any less tiresome. Especially because he knows his dad is lying about the phone call thing—Newt is a great grandson and texts his grandmother plenty, thank you very much, he would know if he was breaking her heart. “I’m working straight through winter break this year. Seriously.”

“That’s what you did last year,” Newt’s dad says. “And the year before that…” Newt turns the volume up on the TV to cut his dad off before he can segue into the next part of his argument, which is (usually) that Newt needs to work on his personal life, maybe settle down, produce some grandkids of his own. Or at least adopt a cat. Also well-rehearsed.

He’s not sure why he says what he does next—maybe in a desperate attempt to distract his dad further. Maybe because of the sudden onslaught of childhood memories the mention of his grandparents’ house brought on. “Hey, do you remember that boy who used to live next door to grandma?” he says. “He had the weird haircut and always dressed kind of funny?” Old-fashioned, and a little too formal for the sort of things that little kids tend to do, climbing trees or playing in the mud—sweatervests and polished loafers and starched-white knee-highs.

Newt’s dad blinks at him. Newt half expects him to declare that Newt is nuts, and that he has no idea what he’s talking about, like this is one of those horror stories where the childhood friend turns out to be some ghost who died fifty years prior. The clothing would match up, he guesses. But he smiles in recognition a moment later. “You mean the Gottlieb boy?” he says.

“Gottlieb,” Newt echoes. It sounds familiar enough. “Hermann, I think. When I’d stay with grandma for the summer we would play together every day. I wonder what he’s doing now.” Hermann was a smart guy, a real geek like Newt; he used to carry a graphing calculator around in his pocket and build the most goddamn pristine model spacecrafts Newt had ever seen. Hermann’s dad shipped him off to a prestigious boarding school the last summer Newt spent there, when they were around twelve or so. Newt started at MIT not long after. “Dude’s probably designing rocket ships by now or something.”

“You could ask him yourself if you came with me,” Newt’s dad laughs. “The Gottliebs never moved away, and their children actually visit. I’m sure your Hermann visits, too.”

“Ha,” Newt says. “Yeah.”

It’s snowing by the time Newt and his dad finish their movie, and Newt (fearing his dad’s driving even in ideal conditions) declines the offer of a lift home to trudge his way through it to his T stop instead. It’s nice to have the chance to be alone with his thoughts, anyway, because he can’t seem to get funny little Hermann Gottlieb out of his head. What is he doing now?

A quick Facebook search on the train produces a few Hermann Gottliebs, but none of them promising—none of them have the brown eyes or strangely angular face (devoid of any baby fat even that young) Newt remembers, none of them are from the right German countryside, none of them went to a preppy English boarding school. Google (utilizing the information Newt does have) is a little more rewarding, and by the time Newt presses the button to request his stop, he’s scrounged up a decent amount of info: Hermann Gottlieb has a doctorate in astrophysics, Hermann Gottlieb publishes papers at a slightly terrifying rate, and Hermann Gottlieb turned out kinda hot.

As Newt stares down at a slightly grainy current photograph of his old friend—haircut and clothing unchanged, a cane in hand, some round librarian glasses perched on the end of his nose, wide mouth twisted into a scowl—he suddenly recalls another thing about Hermann Gottlieb: the summer Hermann was sent away to boarding school was the summer that Hermann kissed Newt goodbye, shyly and tearfully, under the shade of the tall maple tree in his yard. It was the last time Newt ever saw Hermann. It was Newt’s first kiss.

“Oh, boy,” Newt says.

He texts his dad when he gets back to his apartment. When do we leave?

Newt feels like the belle of the fucking ball when he steps into his grandparents’ house a week later, snow dusting his shoulders, small suitcase clenched in his hand. His cheeks are kissed; his scarf and hat and leather jacket are brushed off and tossed onto a coat rack; his hair is in parts smoothed down (too messy!) and ruffled (too flat!); he’s hugged more times than he has been in the entire last year, probably. “Still playing around with bugs in the dirt, eh, Newt?” his grandfather booms, tucking Newt into the crook of his arm with enough force to knock Newt’s glasses off.

“Actually,” Newt squeaks, scrambling for both what he remembers of his very rusty German, and his glasses before they can hit the ground, “entomology isn’t really my main focus at—”

“Newt’s studying jellyfish now,” Newt’s dad declares proudly. “He went on a diving expedition this July.”

“Diving? How exciting,” Newt’s grandmother says.

“Yeah,” Newt says. He pushes his glasses back on. “Yeah, it was fascinating, I was lucky to get the funding for it. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of—”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Newt’s cousin says.

“My little Newt’s a daredevil!” Newt’s dad says.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Newt says. “As long as you’re—”

“What happened to that nice man your father said you were dating?” Newt’s grandfather says. “With the, the what was it, the poetry? The poet? We thought you’d bring him!”

Newt flushes. Trust his dad to talk up some random guy Newt dated in March like it was a long-term affair and not an elongated one-night stand that fizzled out after three weeks. Though maybe that one’s on Newt—it’s not like he mentioned the one-night stand part to his dad, after all. He definitely didn’t mention that the guy ended it with a poem, too. “We broke up,” he says, weakly. He wriggles out from the throng of the crowd. “Look, it’s so great seeing you all, but I’m actually, like, really tired, soooooo…?”

“Oh, of course you are,” Newt’s grandmother says. She pats his head. “What a long flight you must have had! We’ll send someone up for you for dinner—you can have your old guest room.”

“Cool,” Newt says.

He scurries up the stairs.

The guest room he slept in during those summers is almost exactly the way he remembers it, but a little dustier—the floral quilt on the bed, his grandma’s sewing table crammed into the corner, the bookcase stocked with a weird combination of kid’s books and illustrated encyclopedias that Newt used to pore over for hours as a kid, often with Hermann. Newt draws back the embroidered curtains and peers out the window at the Gottliebs’ snow-capped house next door. Hermann’s window was directly across from his. It still is, technically, though the curtains (these navy blue and embroidered with little constellations) are pulled tight, and Newt has a feeling that Hermann hasn’t set foot in his old room in well over a decade. Two decades, probably.

He remembers the one summer he showed Hermann how to make a soup can telephone, and they managed to string it all the way across between their windows before discovering it kinda didn’t work as well as Newt said it would. He remembers when Hermann’s dad banned him from the Gottlieb house for tracking water all over their front hallway after he and Hermann went wading in the creek, but it was really Hermann who did it, because he forgot to take his shoes off and they got soaked, and Newt just took the fall for it so Hermann wouldn’t get in trouble. And when Hermann asked Newt to play astronaut with him, and Newt insisted on being an alien and mimed the chestburster scene from Alien, and Hermann freaked out so bad he fell in a mud puddle and got grounded for ruining his clothing, and Newt got grounded for that and for watching Alien when he wasn’t supposed to, and they spent the following few days staring sadly out across at each other before Newt’s grandma finally got tired of his moping and sent him to work weeding the garden. He remembers knotting a little friendship bracelet for Hermann out of embroidery thread he found in his grandmother’s sewing basket and Hermann vowing to keep it until he died.

Newt’s half of the soup can phone is still on the windowsill, though the string snapped and crumbled apart years ago. He picks at the peeling Chicken Noodle label, so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice the light suddenly seeping through at the edges of Hermann’s curtains, or the way they’re pushed open—almost.

Hermann—real, live, adult Hermann, botched haircut and round glasses and all—stares out at Newt with a shocked expression on his face. Newt drops the can with a clatter.

Then he waves.

“Hey, Grandma?” Newt says, poking his head into the kitchen. Tonight’s dinner is a massive pot of soup boiling away on the stovetop, dessert a mountain of cookies and tiny pastries on serving platters on the counters. Newt hasn’t had food that looked this good since he moved out, to be honest. The intersection of Newt’s sad lack of cooking skills and his attempts at vegetarianism means he eats a lot of boxed mac-and-cheese and frozen Vegetable Lovers’ pizzas. “Are you—?"

“Oh, Newt!” Newt’s grandmother says. She sets down her wooden spoon. “Are you feeling rested, then?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Grandma, I was wondering, could I—uh—maybe run some food over to the Gottliebs? To be…neighborly? We just have so much, and—”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Newt’s grandmother says. “They keep to themselves, mostly, but I can’t imagine they’d turn it down. You might even see your little friend again! What was his name? You were so fond of him.”

“Hermann,” Newt says, quickly shoving cookies into a red-lid plastic container. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He tucks the tupperware under his arm and nearly wipes out on the icy front path he runs to the Gottliebs’ so fast. Before he can so much as catch his breath and knock, their door swings open; Hermann, dressed in a tacky Hannukah sweater, arches an eyebrow at him. “I saw you sprint over here like a bloody madman,” he says, in blessed English. He must’ve remembered how shitty Newt’s German was when they were kids. “Hello, Newton. What’s so terribly important?”

His voice got deeper—expected—and he swapped out his German accent for an English one somewhere along the way. Probably at his stuffy boarding school. He also got taller—he’s got a few inches on Newt now, but Newt admits that’s not exactly hard. God, he’s even hotter in person. “Uh,” Newt says. Why is he here? Oh, right. He thrusts out the tupperware. “I brought some cookies over for you?”

Hermann peers down at the offering over his glasses. His forehead wrinkles. “How considerate,” he says. He pulls an olive-green parka on and steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. He taps at a peeling porch swing with the end of his cane. “Just leave them there. Would you like to take a walk?”

It’s freezing, and snowing, but for some reason, a walk sounds like the best idea in the world right now. “Yes, please,” Newt says, and chucks the cookies onto the swing.

“I must say,” Hermann says, after their meandering walk around the Gottliebs’ yard takes them to the old maple tree. The branches are bare, but thick, and shield them from most of the falling snow. Hermann’s breath puffs out white in front of his angular face. The last time I stood here, Newt thinks, he kissed me. “I really did not expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Newt admits. “From what I remember, you and your family weren’t—uh—well, very close. I didn’t think you’d be coming back to share in the holiday cheer with them, is what I mean.”

The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “That’s certainly one way of describing it. Yes, I suppose you’re right—my father is a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Newt laughs awkwardly, unsure whether to agree or attempt to weakly the defend a guy who openly hated him for being a bad influence on Hermann most of his childhood; he’s grateful when Hermann continues and saves him the choice. “This is the first year I’ve come home in a long while. My brother’s just had a daughter, you see, and I thought I should start getting used to playing uncle.”

“Oh, congrats,” Newt says. Hermann shrugs, and Newt has the distinct feeling that this is Hermann’s older brother, who used to dissemble Hermann’s telescope and hide the pieces around the house when Hermann annoyed him, and tattled on Newt and Hermann to Hermann’s parents the one time Newt snuck in to see Hermann after he got banned. He always made Newt thankful that he was an only child. “Same here, actually. Not the uncle thing—I mean I haven’t visited since I was in college. Too busy.”

“I know,” Hermann says, and then adds teasingly (in a way that makes color flood Newt’s cheeks and his heart beat just a little faster), “I’ve looked you up online. Er—quite a bit recently, in fact. I was curious. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, haven’t you, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I,” Newt squeaks, and then coughs. “I mean, I guess? I like…science.”

“I oughtn’t be surprised,” Hermann says. “You were always giving me bugs, and salamanders, and funny little frogs—”

Newt liked bugs, and salamanders, and frogs, but he liked Hermann more, and the gifts had a lot more to do with the latter than the former, because what kid wouldn’t want bugs or salamanders or frogs, right? Not that Hermann ever appreciated them—especially not the worms Newt would pluck from the sidewalks after rainstorms. He thinks he got grounded for that one, too, because his grandma wouldn’t believe that he really wasn’t trying to terrorize the poor Gottlieb boy. “And what about you?” Newt says. He pokes his elbow into Hermann’s side. “Dr. Gottlieb? Guess those model rockets paid off.”

(“No, Newton,” Hermann would snap at him on the rare occasions he would allow Newt to watch him piece one together, “the glue hasn’t dried yet. You have to be patient, or else it’ll fall apart.”)

“Not yet,” Hermann says, “but I hope soon.”

Hermann smiles at him. A snowflake catches in his eyelashes—his long, pretty, dark eyelashes. “Do you remember when you kissed me here?” Newt blurts out.

“It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d forget,” Hermann says. He reaches out and tucks a piece of Newt’s hair up into his hat. “I like your tattoos—I saw the photographs on your social media accounts. They suit you.” Newt wonders if this means Hermann saw the shirtless selfie he posted on Instagram. “I’m also pleased to see you’ve gotten your braces removed. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience last time.”

Then he leans in and kisses Newt. Again, technically. It’s so light and brief Newt hardly believes it even happened. Their glasses clack together, and when Hermann pulls away, he straightens out Newt’s.

“I confess,” Hermann says, “that I’m wholly pleased to see how you’ve turned out. I hope that wasn’t too forward of me. I’ve been thinking about doing it all night.”

“Jeez, dude,” Newt says, blinking at him, his head swimming just a little. Hermann looks smug. “Not, uh, not too forward. So. Uh. You wanna get dinner or something this week and catch up?”

Hermann snorts, and nods.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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