#if his teenage form is a reminder of the guilt he faced over the bite‚ then his young adult form | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuttling · 3 years

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Tarlos prompt.

Carlos just had a break down about life. And his mum sorts him out. Which ends in his Mum having a convo with TK about how much Carlos and her were close until the weird coming out thing

thank you so much for your prompt! i hope you enjoy what i came up with!

also written for day 1 of @911lonestarangstweek: Emotional whump + “How do we fix this?”

ao3 | 2.1k

Of all the people TK might have expected to show up at the house when Carlos is on shift, Andrea Reyes is not one of them.

Unfortunately, however, she has, and TK is now painfully aware that he’s barefoot, wearing a stained t-shirt and sweats in front of his boyfriend’s mother, who he has only officially met once. She raises a solitary eyebrow, looking him up and down, and TK flushes deeply.

“Um, Mrs Reyes, hi,” he stammers. “Carlos is at work.”

“I know.” She smirks at his clear surprise, then gestures inside. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” TK steps aside, wringing his hands together nervously as Mrs Reyes walks in. She looks around the space as though seeing it for the first time, which he vaguely registers as strange, given Carlos has lived here for years. Most of his mind, however, is taken up with freaking out over the fact that Carlos’s mother is here; she had seemed nice enough when Carlos had taken him over for Sunday dinner last week, but TK is in no way prepared for one-on-one interactions yet.

Especially now, when he’s barely been awake for an hour. “I-If you want to take a seat,” he says, trying to tame his anxiety, “I’ll just go and get changed into something a little more, um, presentable.”

He’s about to make a break for the stairs when Mrs Reyes catches his arm, her grip gentle but firm. “Don’t be silly,” she admonishes. “I may be Carlos’s mother, but this is your home too, no?”

“Well… It’s not... We don’t exactly… Can I get you something to drink?”

“You can sit down.”

Mrs Reyes smiles in clear amusement, and TK’s pretty sure he couldn’t be redder if he tried. He studiously avoids eye contact as he shuffles to the opposite end of the couch, sinking down into it with his gaze firmly fixed on his lap. He wishes Carlos were here, but he’s still got hours left on his shift.

Which reminds him. “Mrs, Reyes, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” He trails off, unsure how to phrase the question without sounding horrifically insulting.

Thankfully, she seems to understand. “You’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

TK nods. “Not that you’re not welcome!” he hurries to say. “But I figured you’d be here to see Carlos, only he’s not here, so… So.”

He winces at his own awkwardness, knowing he’s cutting a stark contrast to his behaviour at dinner. Sure, he can turn on the charm when he’s prepared and awake and with Carlos, but alone, half-asleep, and totally not expecting a visit?

He’s doomed.

Mrs Reyes sighs deeply. When TK looks back up at her, her expression has turned sad, a weariness in her face.

“Carlos came by our house before his shift this morning.”

TK raises a surprised eyebrow at the news; Carlos had left at six this morning, and he hadn’t said anything about going to see his parents. Not that he was supposed to, but TK can’t help but worry, especially with the way Mrs Reyes is looking at him.

“You know that two days ago was his first shift back after the suspension, yes?” she continues, nodding at TK’s confirmation. “He… When he arrived this morning, he was distressed, panicking over everything - mostly work, but he hinted at other things that I don’t… I’m not really sure what he was talking about. I was hoping you might have a little more insight?”

TK’s heart clenches at her words, but he forces a smile for Mrs Reyes’s sake. “What did he say?”

“What I understood was that he was anxious about going back to work. He thinks that no-one trusts him anymore, and he said that maybe they were right not to. I told him he was being crazy, but I don’t know if he listened to me.”

“Carlos never told me any of this,” TK whispers, horrified. He’d had no idea Carlos had been struggling so much, and he could kick himself for not pushing when he’d said that he was fine.

Mrs Reyes smiles thinly. “Of course he didn’t,” she says, almost fondly. “My Carlitos is a worrier; he’ll fuss over everyone else and never give a thought to himself, even if it runs him into the ground. I’m sure you know this.” She gestures to the scar on his forehead, and TK reaches up to touch it, running his fingers lightly over the ridged tissue.

He nods, sighing. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely able to look at her now. “I should have made sure he was okay. I asked, of course I did, but -”

Mrs Reyes cuts him off by reaching over to grab his hand. She smiles at him when TK looks up in shock, then squeezes gently. “You are not to blame. Carlitos can be very stubborn, especially when it comes to himself. He gets that from his father.”

She chuckles, then her face takes on that heavy look again and she lets go of TK, sitting back in her seat. “We talked for a while about his worries over work, but there was a point when I don’t think we were just talking about his job anymore. He said something about Gabriel and never being enough for him, but he wouldn’t explain when I asked. He left soon after that.”

TK swallows nervously. He has a pretty good idea what Carlos might have been referring to, but he doesn’t have a clue how to go about talking to Mrs Reyes about it. It feels wrong to do it without Carlos’s knowledge, anyway.

“It was your husband leading the investigation, wasn’t it?” he hedges, trying to steer her in that direction.

“It was, but this was more than that, I’m sure of it.” She sighs, sudden tears glinting in her eyes and - oh, TK is so not prepared for this. “We used to be so close, you know? All of us. But, one day, something changed. I don’t know what, or why, but suddenly he started keeping his distance more, and he stopped talking to us. I love my son, I only want the best for him, but it’s been years and now I don’t know how to help him.”

She meets his eyes, her gaze almost pleading with him. “You clearly care for him, TK, and I’ve never seen my son so happy as when he’s with you. Please, if you know anything… I just want to understand.”

TK bites his lip. Talking about this with Mrs Reyes feels like a betrayal of Carlos, but he’s not seeing a way out of this anymore. If she’s half as stubborn as her son, she won’t leave until she has at least some answers, and there’s no way she’ll believe he knows nothing.

“Did things change when he was around seventeen, by any chance?” he asks eventually, guilt twisting in his gut. “Maybe just after he, um, came out?”

Her lips part in surprise, a small crease forming between her brows. “Yes. But, I don’t understand, are you implying this is because of that? All we care about is that he’s happy, not who he loves; Gabriel and I have always done our best to support Carlos.”

TK winces. “All due respect, Mrs Reyes, but I’m not so sure that’s true.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look, this is really a conversation you should be having with Carlos, I’ve already said too much -”

“If you have something to say, TK, please, just say it.” The warmth has dropped from Mrs Reyes’s face and she seems to be holding herself tighter. TK’s heart sinks; he’s just ruined things with his boyfriend’s mother. Perfect.

He swallows, staring hard at the floor. “It’s just something that came up after we met you at the market,” he explains quietly. “Carlos...he wasn’t sure how you would react to - to us, so he did what he does best, and chose to protect us both.”

“Protect?” Mrs Reyes’s voice is horrified, and TK looks up to find her staring at him in open confusion. “From what?”

TK doesn’t respond, but his grimace must be enough to tell her all she needs to know. She gasps and lifts a hand to her mouth, eyes shining.

“We thought…” She breaks off, shaking her head. “How do we fix this?”

He sighs. “Mrs Reyes… I can’t speak for Carlos, nor can I claim to fully understand what he’s been through. I came out to my parents when I was fourteen, and they were vocal about their support, to say the least.” TK chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, his teenage embarrassment returning for a brief moment. “I’m not saying that’s the way to go, god knows it was awkward and overwhelming for all of us, but maybe talking to him would be a start? Carlos knows you love him, ma’am, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him know that you love all of him, if you understand what I mean?”

Mrs Reyes nods, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. “Thank you, TK,” she says, sending him a barely-there smile. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She stands and TK hurries to follow, grabbing the door for her.

He’s equal part relieved and worried over her abrupt exit; much longer, and TK thinks he might have lost it, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s fucked up beyond repair. So, he’s surprised when she turns in the doorway and pulls him into a gentle hug.

“I’m glad Carlitos has you,” she smiled, patting his cheek. “And, it’s Andrea.”

With that, Mrs Reyes walks out, leaving TK staring after her, more than a little confused.

That night, TK watches Carlos move about their bedroom, his conversation with Andrea weighing on him as he twists the bedsheets in his hands. He knows he needs to talk to Carlos about it, but he has no idea where to start.

Carlos slides into bed beside him and TK instinctively leans his head on his shoulder. He’s just about worked up enough courage to say something, when Carlos interrupts, playing with TK’s fingers.

“My mom said she stopped by today.”

TK freezes, Carlos’s careful tone sending fear down his spine. He looks up slowly, biting his lip. “I was going to tell you, I swear. I just…couldn’t figure out how.” He pauses, waiting for some sort of reaction, but none is forthcoming. “Did she… Did she tell you what we talked about?”

Carlos hums. “Some of it. She wants me to go over tomorrow to talk about the rest of it.”

TK closes his eyes, slumping back against the headboard. “Shit, Carlos, I’m so sorry. I know I overstepped. I - I shouldn’t have said half of that stuff, I was way out of line -”

“TK.” Carlos’s voice is firm but gentle, cutting through TK’s panicked rambling. He looks over at him, some of his anxiety melting at the small smile on his boyfriend’s face. “You don’t have to apologise.”

“Don’t I?”

Carlos sighs. “Would I have preferred to have been there? Sure. But I’m not mad about anything you said. I know you didn’t really want to; my mom said she practically forced it out of you.”

TK huffs a laugh, but doesn’t try to deny it. “Still,” he says. “Is everything okay between you guys now?”

“We’re fine.” Carlos pulls him close, kissing his cheek. “Don’t worry.”

“Like I could ever stop,” he mutters, resting his head on Carlos’s chest and drawing his arms around him. Carlos moves as if to lie down, but TK stops him, another question burning in his mind. “Why didn’t you say anything about how worried you were to go back to work?”

Carlos tenses, silence dragging out for a brief moment. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he confesses eventually. “You had enough on your plate with the kidnapping and recovering, and I couldn’t add onto all of that. I was dealing with it.”

TK’s heart breaks at the words, tears pricking at his eyes. “Oh, Carlos,” he breathes. He twists to meet Carlos’s gaze, gripping his hands tight. “You know I love you, right?”

Carlos nods, frowning a little. “Of course. I love you, too.”

“Exactly,” TK continues. “This relationship is a two-way street, babe. I know you like caring for people, but you’ve got to let me care for you as well. You can come to me about anything, and I promise I’ll do my best to help you, just like you do for me. Please, let me in, Carlos.”

Carlos blinks, clearing his throat. “I… I’ll try,” he says eventually, ducking his head.

TK smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 3 years

Text

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: smut, angst, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 10.5k | reading time: 60 min

chapter summary: The two of them spend their day on good terms for the first time, but still manage to find something to rile them up

warnings: switch!tae, switch!amy, oral f&m receiving, face sitting, dirty talk, teasing, a lil bit of orgasm control? some name calling (bitch), light spanking, hair pulling, unprotected vaginal sex, riding, praise, squirting, also some spooky stuff, i don’t remember what else ahh

A/N: I know absolutely nothing about photography, so if you do and you read this and think to yourself nothing is making any sense, you are right and I am wrong. Please just enjoy this as best as you can lol

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Chapter 7: Love is just a form of possession

The place was definitely haunted. But perhaps it was in a good way. Perhaps it was magical.

It felt that way when you slowly opened your eyes to find a snoozing Taehyung just inches away from your face. His expression set in a natural pout as he had his arms snaked around your body like he was afraid he would lose you in his sleep. You bit your lip as you inspected his resting form better; his ruffled hair, his soft but dehydrated lips, his naked shoulders that were peeking under the blanket. Last night you had moved on the couch, struggling to fit on it at the same time but managing to entangle your limbs just right so that he wouldn't fall over. You had a light rug that you had found in the room over your bodies, as well as Taehyung's sweater on to keep you warm, although the heat from his bare body was all you needed.

And the fireplace. You heard it crackling before you raised your head to look over at its direction and confirm the fire was big and strong once again. Yep. This place was definitely haunted.

Taehyung's arms tightened around you, pulling himself nearer until his face was buried in your neck. "Don't go," he mumbled in a way it was hard for you to understand, with his voice heavy from his slumber. He had felt your body move while you were trying to look around the room and without even opening his eyes, his reaction was to hold you closer.

You ran a hand through his hair, smiling to yourself. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rain was still falling, not as heavy as the previous night, but it was just enough for the rhythmic melody it created by hitting the windows. That meant you were stuck in the house for one more day. Not that you had any interest in leaving, in even getting out of that room or that couch. Not only was it warm in there, in Taehyung's embrace, but it was safe, too. Perhaps, on any other occasion, you would hate yourself for just how nice you felt at that moment, but you were starting to believe that being by his side wasn't just appealing, but also necessary. You wouldn't last another day in that Manor otherwise.

"What should we have for breakfast?" you heard him whisper, right before he started stretching so much he almost fell over.

"Oh, um..." you mumbled, thinking about it. "Is it my turn to cook?"

You felt his smile against your neck, a low chuckle being produced at the back of his throat. "It is. What will you feed me?" You took a couple of seconds to think, and his smile grew. "You know, you could just offer me your cunt right now and I'd happily have that as a meal."

You groaned. "Tae!" you whined, pushing him on his chest. "You're disgusting!" He had certainly ruined the romantic atmosphere that the room was painted in. But that's just how that man is, isn't it?

He was laughing as he was trying to catch himself from falling, grabbing the sweater you were wearing and the arm of the couch. "Oh, come on," he said once he found his balance. "You can't tell me you're still shy after everything we've done."

But you rolled your eyes at him. "This isn't a matter of openness, it's just very inappropriate."

He looked up at you, licking his lip slowly as he watched your eyes. "So, you're turning me down?"

For a moment you tried to get up, but he held you tighter. The truth was that the way he was looking at you was almost making you cave in, but thankfully you could think better in the daytime. Even though you didn't have much of a reason to, anymore, you still didn't feel quite comfortable just casually doing stuff like that with him. It was too much already that you had woken up cuddling him as if he was your boyfriend.

"I need to go shower," you said, both replying to him and changing the subject in a way. "I'm so nasty from last night."

"You and I both. Do you want to shower together?" He made his proposal by reaching up a bit and kissing your jaw. It made you drop it, not to give him better access, but because his words were making you flustered again.

"No- why would we- we..."

"I'm just saying; it's cold and it's raining. There might not be a lot of hot water. We should be frugal."

Since you hadn't stopped him exactly yet, he took it as a sign to keep kissing you. Up your jawline and down your neck. And now forming a coherent thought was even more difficult. Your body squirmed around like you were being tickled, and you wanted to block him but at the same time not at all.

"Now, you're just making up excuses," you snorted, trying to sound austere but the smile he had managed to get on your lip served the exact opposite mission. "Do you want to have me for breakfast that bad?" you teased since he wasn't the only one able to do that.

But Taehyung pulled slightly away, biting his lip and looking at you through his lashes with the most innocent face he could muster. "Actually, I was hoping that if I eat you out, you might return the favor and help me out with this morning wood." And with that, he pressed upon you more, so that you could feel exactly what he was talking about. Your eyes widened and you gasped a bit, realizing that the hard thing nudging your thigh wasn't actually his knee like you thought.

"Oh..." you mumbled.

"But you don't have to!" Taehyung was quick to say when he saw your surprised reaction. But it wasn't so much surprise as it was a feeling of guilt; the man had done everything to please you the past couple of days, and you hadn't had the chance to do much for him in return. And there he was, with a pout on his lips and his dick begging for attention.

When you kissed him, you didn't do it just because you felt a sense of duty to do it, but mostly because the idea that he needed you turned you on so much, and so fast. You kissed him hard, not wasting any time to slip your tongue in his mouth, and your chest filled with pride when he started moaning. He was moaning more and louder than usual, probably being less interested in controlling himself since he still hadn't fully woken up yet, and you hadn't even touched him yet.

The rag slid down your shoulders as you moved over him, changing the position that had you both on your sides, to one where Taehyung was lying on his back and you were straddling him. You didn't have anything on other than that sweater, and so when you ground on his hard-on, it was easily gliding between your folds, making the man growl harder.

"Shit, Amy," he moaned and his voice was higher in pitch than normal. "I feel like a goddamn teenager. You're- shhh- you're gonna make me cum just like that."

You found his little voice cracks so adorable. You didn't know -could have never guessed- just how needy, desperate, whiny, and loud Taehyung got in the mornings. He always put on that facade of being in control, when in reality, deep down, all he wanted was to pleasure you as best as he could; all he was waiting for was a chance to be good for you. And then he was at your mercy for his own release. It was obvious in the way he hung from your lips, clawing at your sweater. Completely dependent on you and your moves.

"You can't cum like that, baby," you reminded him, pressing his chest down and sitting up, keeping your lips out of reach to make him whine more. You weren't used to this exactly, but damn, torturing this poor boy felt so good. Perhaps because you still wanted to hate him, so now that he was hooked on you and you were in control, you wanted to make him suffer; make him beg. Just like he had the audacity to do to you. "You can't cum before I tell you to, alright? If you do, I won't let you touch me again for the rest of our days here."

Taehyung cried out, his hips rising involuntarily to grind on your core more. "Stop," he breathed out. "Don't do that."

You laughed. Was he trying to order you around when his whole face was pink and he was panting, unable to compose himself? That was bold. Especially since what you were telling him seemed to turn him on even further.

You let two fingers run down his chest toward his belly. "You will finish in my mouth, okay? Nowhere else." Just to test him, you pushed down on his dick more, almost letting him inside you, and he crushed his head back, groaning.

"Amy- I'm so close already," he complained. "Just- just..."

You clicked your tongue, withdrawing both your hands and your hips from his body. "I don't like your tone, mister."

But he just looked at you with pitiful eyes. "I won't last if you don't..."

"You want me to suck your dick?" He nodded frantically. "You have to ask nicely."

"Son of a bitch," he sighed, biting his lip. And you could see him twitch all alone underneath you. It made you smirk.

"That's not nicely, baby," you cooed.

Taehyung's forehead started glistening as he got a little sweaty. And he groaned once more. "Amy..."

"Yes?"

He panted. "You don't even need to do much, just let me cum," he hummed.

And you chuckled. "Man, you really don't know how to ask politely, do you?" Then you snorted. "Well, what did I expect from someone like you."

You could tell all he really wanted to do was anything you asked of him; he just didn't like the fact that you were doing it on purpose. And if he just let you see exactly how desperate he was for you, then it would be a lot harder to establish himself later when he would need to again. But when one of your hands traveled south and wrapped around the base of his cock, there was truly little holding him back.

"Amy, please!" he squeaked, his voice cracking again. "Please, what do you want me to do? I've been as best as I could to you."

The words made your stomach do a flip, and you smirked, slowly running your fist up and down his length. "Yes, you have," you whispered. You lowered your head to his dick and stuck your tongue out. Taehyung watched you with wide eyes as you lazily brought the tip of your tongue on his head, gathering up all the precum that had leaked out. And he took a sharp breath in through his teeth. "You've been so good."

"I'm gonna cum," Taehyung announced, dropping his head back.

But you held him tighter. "Not yet." And you dropped your mouth entirely onto him.

Taehyung's mouth fell open in a silent cry as he did his best to control himself. This was torture. Sure, he had asked for it, but he had already woken up so close to his orgasm with the kind of dreams he was having, that all it would need to spill his seed out would have been a couple of strokes. It would have probably served him better to just go to the bathroom and deal with it himself. Now, he had this pretty girl with her warm, wet mouth all over him, sucking him off hard, and it felt so good he thought he would explode. And yet he couldn't. He had to wait.

"Amy, please," he choked out when you brought him deep enough to hit the back of your throat. "Ugh, please, let me cum."

You had never enjoyed giving someone a blowjob as much as you did at that moment. Besides the fact that Taehyung's dick was straight-up delicious, the sounds he was making and the way he was begging had your head spinning. It had you rubbing your legs together, bopping your head faster, and sipping him up harder as if you were trying to milk him. And you would have kept on doing that for so much longer, until your jaw was in too much pain, if it weren't for how his cries made you feel sorry for him.

So you popped him off your mouth just enough to say these words: "Coat my mouth with your scum, baby. Let me taste it."

You didn't have to touch him any longer; your words alone drove him over the edge he had been dancing on for a while now, spurting his seed on your offered tongue, his hands holding your head for the first time to keep you still. He gave you a couple of pumps, some of them missing the target and hitting your nose before he groaned and dropped back down. Panting and sighing, pulling his hair away from his face and whipping the sweat that had formed on his forehead. You stayed still, not sure if you wanted to spit or swallow, but since you couldn't immediately think of where you could do the former, you gulped down all that he had gifted you.

From your point of view, Taehyung had never looked hotter than he did at that moment; completely exhausted and dried up, probably without a single thought in his head. And all because of you. If you hadn't just made him finish and his dick go soft, you would have already jumped to sit on him, not even waiting to wear protection. Your core itched with want, too, and since he looked ready to go right back to sleep, you needed to go take that shower you had mentioned right away. And by shower, you know what I mean.

You went to get off the couch. But Taehyung's hand wrapped around your wrist instantly, keeping you back. His head foggy from his orgasm but still super aware of you and your movements. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go take a shower. Like I said." Your voice was a lot lower than before, much of your confidence having left you the moment that scene was over. In contrast, Taehyung seemed to be gaining his old self back little by little, considering the way his eyes were piercing you.

"Not before I'm done with you," he rasped, pulling your arm until you lost your balance and fell over his body. "Come sit on my face."

Your eyes popped open wide. "Wha- no, I'm fine."

While licking his lips, Taehyung snaked his free hand down your sides and cupped your pussy, a finger immediately sliding between your folds as if he was trying to gather up all your juices. "You call that fine?" he asked smugly as he made sure you could hear just how soaked you were. A moan caught in your throat, trying to hide how much you needed him. He smiled sweetly at you. "What, you thought I'd just leave you hanging? Come on, babe, turn around and sit that pretty ass of yours on my face because I don't have the strength to get up right now."

It would have been hard to say no to that when you could both feel the way you gushed out at his words. So you moved around until you were facing his feet and kneeled over his head. One of his arms wrapped around your hips, his other hand still playing with your folds. You hesitated coming down to him, that being a position you weren't used to, but he was pulling at you until his tongue managed to replace his fingers, licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance. You moaned, your legs shaking a bit as he gave you kitten licks to see the way you squirmed over him.

And then you felt a strong smack on your ass.

"Bitch, I said sit on my face, not hover over it!" Taehyung scolded.

"Ah!" you cried, a sound that sounded like pain at first but turned to more like thrill later. Your head whipped back, trying to see the man lying beneath you. "I am sitting," you insisted.

"If I can breathe while you do it, you're not doing it right." And then he gave you another smack on the ass, making you yelp again.

"Ah, stop! You'll suffocate."

"Good." His hands kneaded your buns strongly, waiting for you to move. But you were still uncertain. So he exhaled and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, Amy? I thought you hated me, yet you don't even want to choke me with those thighs? I thought you wanted to kill me?"

It was a cheap trick to rile you up. Cheap, but it worked. You let yourself drop down completely, not holding any of your weight back. It felt weird at first, you felt pretty self-conscious, but then Taehyung's arms secured you around him and his tongue slipped inside you, and you didn't have the right mind to worry about anything else. You pushed even further down, trying to get him even deeper. He squeezed and pinched your things, moving your hips as best as he could to get you to grind on his face. And once you felt how nicely your clit rubbed on him, it was hard to do otherwise.

You held onto his hips for leverage to thrust against his tongue, as you could feel the feeling inside your tummy growing rapidly. And you moaned his name like a prayer. He pushed you off him just for a second enough to take a breath before he was pressing his mouth on your sensitive bud. His tongue flat on you to let you move against it in the way it felt best for you. Voice getting higher and higher as you got closer and closer, Taehyung smacking your ass again to make you scream. And with just one more hit, you were gushing all over his face, legs, and hips shaking violently as you fell over on him.

He remained lapping at you, cleaning you up, until you got so sensitive you had to pull yourself away. You got up and suddenly remembered to check on him. "Are you okay?"

He gave you one of those boxy grins, his eyes almost closing completely by how hard he was smiling. "Couldn't be better."

"Your face is all red." He looked like he had nearly died from asphyxiation. But he kept grinning.

"To be completely honest, I did forget for a moment to breathe. But that's not your fault. It was just too good to stop." With that he sat up and swung his legs to the side, in front of you, looking up at you.

You had to laugh. His whole approach to the moment, and even his bright red face with his hair all chaotic framing it, made you feel a lot more at ease. He seemed so happy for what he had just done. Almost like he had enjoyed it more than you.

"I have never met anyone who likes this so much as you," you admitted with another giggle.

Taehyung got up finally, looking around the room to find the discarded clothing items and get dressed. "Well, you have been dating all the wrong guys then," he said matter-of-factly before he found his briefs and jumped into them. He turned to look at you again. "See, this is what happens when you have standards and won't go for someone like me."

"I'm with you right now."

"Yeah, but you still won't date me." His words made you frown momentarily. Because they sounded slightly like a complaint. Or like a wish in disguise. But before you could have the chance to think twice, he cleared his throat and started putting on his pants, the eye-contact over. "Let's go shower and then eat something. This doesn't count as breakfast."

The atmosphere was awkward, only for a little, because then you occupied yourselves enough with dressing up, and going upstairs, and getting in that shower. You didn't shower together, chose the separate bathrooms instead. Which, you thought, was for the best; he might have already seen you naked but that was only while having sex. You didn't know if you were comfortable enough to be in your birthday suit and just... exist like that around him. But you still couldn't stop thinking about him. About what he would look like with all the water hitting his face. How you would like to shampoo his hair just to be able to hold him more intimately like that. Or for him to help you scrub your back and brush your hair. Generally, showering with someone else was another one of those things you didn't do much.

You heard the doorknob turn, and it brought butterflies to your stomach, thinking he had come to find you after all. But no one came in. You peeked your head around the curtain and the door was still closed. The shadows moving on the floor betrayed someone had just walked by, but he was still not entering.

"Taehyung?" you called but got no answer. Had he changed his mind?

You finished that shower alone. When you returned to your room, you found your phone was on your bed. You blinked at it, confused as to how it could be in such plain sight, and yet you still hadn't been able to find it yesterday. You grabbed it to see if you had any more notifications, and found a couple more missed calls from Yoonji. Oh, she would kill you for not responding earlier. Thankfully, you found just enough signal -you still hadn't been able to predict when or how that happened- and you called back. But she didn't answer. And when you called a second time, she still didn't answer. There was no way Yoonji was anywhere away from her phone; she must have just gotten mad at you for not calling earlier and ignoring your calls. But what would you even say? That your phone magically disappeared and reappeared today? And that you were too busy, what with fearing for your life and the sex and all?

"What did you want to talk about?" you sent her a text. Whatever. If she can hold a grudge against you over this petty thing, then it couldn't have been anything too important. Let her reply whenever she wanted to.

Taehyung had already served some breakfast when you got down, but at least this time it wasn't anything too extravagant, had simply opted for some toasted bread with marmalade, a boiled egg, and orange juice. You talked about his work and your studies, almost like making small talk. Like you would if you were meeting for the first time. Which is so odd; the two of you really just do everything the other way around, don't you?

What was making things uncomfortable was the fact that the two of you weren't fighting anymore. You certainly weren't used to that. But at the same time, you weren't exactly okay. Sure, you talked and spent your time together, you cooked and ate your breakfast and lunch, you played games and even cuddled sometimes. But it was all a little tricky. Because you had to be careful not to enjoy yourselves too much and let any emotions slip and show, or be too weird and ruin what you had managed to get. You almost felt guilty for liking being around him. But at the same time, you almost didn't want your days there to end.

You didn't want to go back to your reality, to your routine. Back to where you didn't talk and hated each other. But that would require you to admit it out loud first, and you definitely weren't about to do that.

"Amy?" Taehyung called for you after he had gone upstairs to get something and you had parted ways for a good five minutes. Five minutes and you already wanted to be in the same space again.

"In the kitchen," you shouted to let him know where you were. You were making both of you some afternoon tea since you had liked it last time. And yes, you wanted another excuse to keep him around you.

The photographer came jogging into the room with a grin on. "Look what I found!" he exclaimed, raising his hands to reveal a camera. A very old-looking camera.

"That's not yours?"

He shook his head excitedly. "No! I found it in that room with all those antiques!" With two steps he appeared right next to you, showing the tool around like a little kid that had just gotten a new Lego set. "Loot at this baby! It's a Japanese Arsen from the 1940s! This is insane, I don't think they realize how good this is if they just have it laying around here."

You chuckled. You had never seen Taehyung so enthusiastic. You knew, of course, that he must love photography and the such, but he always seemed more of a show-off about it than having a genuine passion for it. And seeing anyone talk about their passions, even if you don't understand a word about them, is sure to make your heart warm up.

"And get the best part," he went on. "I have a film with me that I think can work with this!"

"You do? You just carry around old film with you like that?"

Taehyung started picking the camera apart, opening up things you didn't quite understand to check whatever he needed to. "I am in the middle of using different models of analog cameras for a festival of 100 years of photography that we got going on in two months. So, yeah, I have a variety of films with me right now." He finally set the machine on the counter and looked back at you. "I don't have the exact film this would normally take, which would be a Vest Pocket film that's black and white, right? But I do have a Rera Chrome 100, and they're both 127 format films, so it should work." You were just staring at him with a confused smile. "This is the only 127 film with color, too."

You felt like a grandma listening to her grandchildren talk about technology you didn't understand. But you were happy for him. "That's all very amazing!" you finally said. "Are you gonna take pictures?"

"Yeah, I was thinking we could try to. The camera seems good to me, I think it should be working," he mumbled more to himself, taking another look at it. "You wanna go catch fairies with this thing?"

His words caught you a bit off guard. "What? Fairies?"

"Well, you know, the rain finally stopped and they always come out afterward, like snails." You were pretty sure he was messing with you. But he did take your hand to pull you out of the kitchen. "All we need is a pretty bait, which is where you come in. You will sit between the flowers in the garden, I will take your pictures with this, and then when we develop them we can see if we managed to recreate that famous picture with the little girl hanging out with the fairies."

You chuckled. He was definitely messing with you about the fairies, but he still seemed pretty serious about the photoshoot.

"I thought fairies were bad," you responded right as he threw a coat over your shoulders to push you out of the front door.

"Depends on who you ask," he told you with a wink.

Everything outside was still damp, even the atmosphere somehow. There was the distinct smell of the rain and the fresh air probing your senses, and for the first time since you got there, the environment felt nice. Like anything bad had been washed away. The plants glowed a bit brighter, the trees swinging around more rhythmically. You almost felt like an intruder when Taehyung guided you through the garden. But he was great at making you feel more relaxed and confident to pose for him; helping people like that was part of his job, after all.

He shaped and forged you in all those different positions, steering your body, or your face and your eyes in the direction he needed, before snapping the few pictures the film provided. Always kissing you in between. Every time his lips hit yours, you almost got too distracted to remember what you were up to. But the cold breeze brought you back each time without fail. It was sad that you couldn't see the pictures right away; Taehyung swore they were gorgeous yet you were doubtful. You would have to wait to go back in town to prove him wrong, though. And that was only if you even talked again after that.

The afternoon carried on calmly. This time you didn't occupy yourselves with work or studying at all. The days that you had left there were getting fewer and fewer, and it was no secret that you wanted to enjoy each other's company; even if you would never admit it. So you just had that tea you had forgotten, played some more games, talked about this and that. It turns out you had a lot more in common than you would have guessed. And the conversation was easy as long as you didn't fight.

"Any ideas for dinner?" he asked you once it had started to get somewhat late.

You nodded immediately. You had already thought about this beforehand. "Yeah, pizza!"

"Pizza?"

You nodded again. "Yeah. You know, I used to date an Italian-American guy and he taught me the easiest way to make good pizza," you explained while you started walking towards the kitchen. "It's so easy even I can do it."

"Oh," Taehyung mumbled before following behind your step. "Used to date? Like, how long ago are we talking about?"

You chuckled at his clearly annoyed reaction, then peeped at him over your shoulder with a smirk. "Why do you care?"

He was quick to shrug. "I don't care," he insisted as he started engaging himself with anything he could find on the counter that had no real use. "It's just a little suspicious that you would just casually bring up your ex like that."

You were torn between laughing at him and rolling your eyes at his behavior. "Yeah, I brought him up because of the pizza. If I had just said I'll make us pizza I'm pretty sure you would have complained that I don't have the skills for that, so I offered an explanation."

Taehyung snorted. "It was unnecessary."

"Are you jealous?"

"No, why would I be jealous?" He was avoiding your eyes while you decided not to stall any longer and start getting the flour and the rest of the ingredients ready. "I'm just saying-" he kept talking behind you, "-people usually talk about their exes when they still have feelings for them. And if this is a recent relationship I don't want to get caught in between. I don't want any Italian-American dudes showing up, wanting smoke."

You couldn't help but chuckle, your tongue pressing on your cheek, and you finally humored him by glancing at him. "Tae, that's not going to happen. Don't worry, I'm not like you when it comes to relationships."

He didn't say anything else, simply helped you with anything you needed for dinner. He helped you with rolling out the dough, and cooking the sauce, and shredding the cheese. You were always thankful for the moments you were cooking or eating, because no matter what was going on with the two of you, these were moments of reconcilement every time.

You made two big pizzas and a smaller one. The crust was a bit thin, but you argued that it was the way Italians make it. In one of them, you played safe and simply used sauce and mozzarella cheese. On the next one, Taehyung got to decide the toppings, and he went with pretty much anything he could find that would work on a pizza. And on the smallest one, you had minimal sauce left and no cheese, so you just improvised with some spiciness and pepperonis. You really didn't know if you would be able to eat them, but Taehyung never complained.

The photographer fixed up the fireplace a bit so that you could go eat next to it again. And you're not sure if the food was actually pretty good or if you were just very hungry and in a good mood that couldn't be ruined easily, but you both ate everything fast until there wasn't even a crumb left. And you felt so proud of yourself. Treating Taehyung made you almost blush before you reminded yourself that he wasn't it; that he wasn't your boyfriend and all of this would be over the moment you left this house. That you shouldn't be feeling this way. Just because you liked the sex didn't mean you had to start liking the man, too.

"Wanna play beavers?" you asked him once you had finished and you didn't really have anything else to do. I mean, you did, but you couldn’t just ask that yet.

But Taehyung was busy with his phone, not even glancing at you. "Give me a second."

He had been on his phone for the past half an hour or so, on and off, and you had never seen him so glued to it before. It made you frown in curiosity. "Are you talking to someone?" you asked.

Taehyung nodded. "Yes, Jimin." His face was way too serious to be texting his best friend, and it made you worry a bit.

"Jimin?" you murmured, leaning closer like trying to peep at his screen, although that's not what you did. Was something wrong? Did Jimin know about you? Had something bad happened with Yoonji; is that why she wanted to talk to you? "What are you guys talking about?" you finally asked. Taehyung's jaw moved around as if he was chewing an invisible gum, and you weren’t sure what to do because you had never seen him like that. You leaned back away, feeling a little off. "Tae?"

"You," he said then.

It took you a second to realize what he was answering. "What?"

The photographer dropped his phone next to him, looking at you in the eyes at last. His scrutiny making you cower a little. "We're talking about you."

You gulped. "You told him what happened between us?"

He shook his head. "No. I didn't say anything." But it was clear that from his stance and his words, he was still not making any sense, so he carried on. "He is the one talking about you."

Somehow, that statement was worse than the one you had expected. You didn't know what Jimin could possibly be telling him, but it was certainly not anything good, given Taehyung's serious face. And suddenly your blood went cold, trying to think of anything wrong that you might have done. And you were so scared, and you didn't even know why. Were you scared of disappointing him? Of ruining the little that you had with him? Why did the idea of Taehyung being mad at you, make you feel so bad?

"Wha- what is he saying?"

He clicked his tongue. "Can I ask you something…?” he mumbled, straightening his back and rubbing his chin. “You keep saying your not like me when it comes to relationships. And you’re still mad about what I did three years ago. But what did you do then?”

You gulped. You had no idea what he was referring to, but somehow you already felt guilty. “What do you mean? What did I do?”

Taehyung leaned in closer to you. “I mean, you obviously hated me. How did you handle that? Very… maturely, like you constantly try to pretend to do?”

You huffed. “Just get to the point, dude. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The corner of his lips twitched, almost like he was about to smile, even though it was clear his mood was anything but cheerful, while his eyes bored into yours dangerously. And he took his time replying, either waiting for you to admit whatever it was he wanted to hear first, or simply to keep you sweating. And then he finally sighed. “You made up a rumor about me, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t what you suspected he would say, and for a split second, you frowned, confused by his words. “What? What rumor- what are you saying? I’ve never done such a thing.” You didn’t get all the way defensive like you normally would because even though you couldn’t understand what was going on straight away, you still felt that guilt in your stomach.

The photographer chuckled in the darkest way you had ever heard. “Oh, so you’re telling me you didn’t spread around that I had the smallest dick ever?”

You choked. “Wha- no, I- I didn’t…”

“Oh, please. Yoonji said so herself.”

You couldn’t lie; you knew exactly what he was referring to. Had you said those exact words before? Yes. Had the rumors spread around so much that everyone on campus knew about them and they eventually reached back to you? Also yes. But had you intended for that to happen? Absolutely not. You had simply told a friend of yours and then Taehyung’s reputation did the rest; he was in the spotlight, everyone was talking and wanting to know more about him.

“I wasn’t trying to spread any rumors,” you tried to excuse yourself. But the boy was already shaking his head at you, not exactly seeming to want to listen to you. “It wasn’t my fault. I just told one girl and then she-”

“But you didn’t even know!” he interrupted you with a bitter laugh. “You never saw me, you just straight-up lied. Why would you tell anyone something like that?” He didn’t sound hurt, nor angry. He mostly sounded disappointed and that was so much worse.

You definitely didn’t like fighting with Taehyung when you were clearly the one at fault. “To be fair-” you kept talking even when he wasn’t paying any attention to you, “-when I said you had a small dick, I meant metaphorically. As in you had small dick energy. 'Cause you were a cheating little shit.”

He scoffed. “You know I don’t actually care about that.” Saying that, he got up and you were immediately on your feet as well. “I never cared about those rumors, we both know how fake they are.” He paused and leaned closer to your face. “What I care about is that you started them,” he whispered, and it was so much worse than if he had chosen to yell instead. “That you keep pretending you’re oh-so-perfect and I’m the asshole who deserves nothing but hate. When all this time you were just as guilty.”

Your entire face burned, your fists so tight you could feel your nails digging in your palms. All because he was right and you hated being put in that situation. “I said- I didn’t actually mean to-”

“Tell me, if my dick’s so small, why can’t you get enough of it?”

Your jaw dropped dramatically. “I-”

“And you can’t stop screaming my name when I fuck you?”

You were pretty sure he was just trying to rile you up, and you shouldn’t just let him succeed that easily. But, god damnit, he was good at everything he was doing. Whether that was getting on your nerves or turning you on. “Gosh, I hate you!”

He laughed at you. “If you hate me so much, why can’t you keep your hands to yourself?”

He had gotten so close to you, starring down at you with a smirk, and at that point, you weren’t even sure what his mood was. Was he angry, trying to make you so, too? Or was he trying to get something else out of you? You pushed him back, the proximity choking you. “I’m the one who can’t keep my hands to herself?” you mocked. “Might I remind you who was begging me to touch him this morning?”

Taehyung licked his lips as he looked away. “Might I remind you who was thanking me for making her cum so hard last night?”

You snarled, stomping your foot on the floor. “And might I remind you who tried to get in the shower with me ‘cause he still hadn’t had enough?”

His smile faltered. And then he slightly frowned. “Not me.”

“Yes, you!”

But Taehyung shook his head, keeping up the amused look on his face. “I only joked about it, I didn’t actually do it,” he mumbled with his frown still on, confused as to why you were bringing it up. “It doesn’t count.”

Yet you pressed on. “Oh, come on, you didn’t just joke about it, you did it!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!” you insisted. “I heard you when you tried to get in the bathroom while I was showering, Taehyung. You can’t lie to me.”

Taehyung lost his smile completely. And he looked at you seriously, his frown deepening. “You heard what?”

“The doorknob,” you announced, with a smug look.

But the photographer’s expression didn’t change. “Amy, that wasn’t me. I didn’t go anywhere near the west wing today.”

The arrogance left you within a second, your face turning pale and your eyes wide, as they stared into his very similar ones. “Stop,” you murmured.

“What?”

“Stop playing!” you whined suddenly in a high-pitched voice.

But Taehyung raised his hands defensively. “I’m not! Amy, I swear, I’m not joking. I don’t know-”

Before he had time to finish his sentence, you threw your body on his, gripping his shirt tightly in your fists, holding onto him like your life depended on it. Perhaps it did. "Tae!” you cried. “Someone tried to get in the bathroom while I was showering! Taehyung, there was someone-”

“Are you sure?” he simply asked you, his eyes searching yours with worry. You knew he wasn’t lying by the way he was genuinely concerned, too. By the way his arms wrapped around you like he was trying to protect you.

You nodded frantically. “Yes! Tae, I’m telling you, someone turned the doorknob to get in, but then didn’t.”

“Maybe you got confused and thought that’s what happened, but…” Taehyung tried to say. He wasn’t saying that to invalidate your words or doubt you. He, too, was trying to think of a logical explanation as you were freaking out in his embrace.

“No, I’m 100% sure. I heard it, I saw it! Someone was outside the door, Taehyung, and they tried to get in!” Before you knew it, you had tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “I thought it was you, I called your name. But no one responded.”

His fingers brushed your hair behind your ears as he talked in the most soothing voice he could muster. “Alright, alright. I believe you, Ames.”

“There was somebody, or- or something in here!” you continued wailing.

“Maybe it was a cleaning lady-”

“What cleaning lady, Tae?” you shrieked. “Have you seen any ladies in here?”

But he held your face firmer, forcing you to look into his eyes. “It must have been. Maybe she wanted to get in the bathroom, realized you were inside, and left.”

You sniffed at him, looking over your shoulder to check the room as if you would find anything out of place. “That’s just wishful thinking and you know it.” Then you buried your face right into his chest, your grip tightening. “This place is haunted! This place is haunted and we’re gonna die!”

He let you go just so that he could grab your wrists and pull your hands away from your face so that he could look at you. “Amy, no,” he rasped. “No one’s gonna die.”

“I want to leave,” you whined again, your tears blocking your view and unable to meet Taehyung’s concerned eyes. But you could still feel his thumb caressing your cheek, whipping those tears away. And it still calmed you down as much as possible.

“Hey, okay,” Taehyung mumbled before he started walking towards the door while pulling you with him. “Okay, okay…” he kept repeating under his breath as he led you through the corridor and toward the main hall. You were confused as to what he was doing until he reached for that old phone sitting on a small coffee table.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “Are you calling the owners?” Your sniffs and sobs died down, seeing more clearly now as you watched Taehyung roll in the number that was written on a card next to the phone without looking at you.

“Yes, we need to get to the bottom of this,” he stated as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Tae, why are you calling the people at this hour? You will disturb them,” you almost whispered.

But he shook his head sternly. “No, it’s more important that you feel safe. Plus, they did say we could call any time.” Before you could say another thing, Taehyung started speaking on the phone. “Good evening, I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. Yeah, no, everything’s alright. I was just calling to ask you about the housekeepers. Yeah. Do you know if they came in this morning?”

The conversation was making you a little uncomfortable; you were never the kind to confront people at work. But just the act on behalf of Taehyung was already making you feel better. “What’re they saying?” you mouthed, and he glanced at you, his hold on your hand getting a bit stronger as though to console you.

“No, nothing’s lost. We just had a situation; we didn’t see anyone here and I wanted to know around what time they’re here.” He was nodding along to whatever the woman on the other end of the line was telling him. And while he listened, his thumb started drawing circles over your hand absentmindedly. “Yes, I think one of them tried to get in the bathroom while my friend was there- No, no, nothing like that. She was just curious to know if it was one of them. Yes. Yes, I understand.” Taehyung gave you another look, noticing how your teeth were digging into your lip, and smiled at you. “Could you? Thank you, that would be great. Yes, thank you. Have a nice evening.”

And with that, he hung up. And he turned completely toward you and smiled brighter. But he wasn’t saying anything; just looked at you like he was admiring your beauty like he forgot you were still anxiously waiting for the results of the conversation. “So?” you asked.

Taehyung leaned in and gave you a peck on the lips, holding your face with both hands. “They were here this morning and the lady said one of them probably tried to get in the bathroom to get some cleaning supplies. She said she will ask and tomorrow morning they will talk to us, okay?”

You chewed on your lip as you watched his face so close to yours. This all sounded so ridiculous suddenly; they had seriously called in for something like that? But Taehyung didn’t once make you feel like you were overreacting. He didn’t see it like that. He thought you had every right to be scared, you had every right to feel panic. And he would do anything to calm you down, to make you feel protected, as well as actually protect you if he had to. His whole stance and presence made you feel at ease.

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Yes. Thank you,” you murmured against his neck.

You heard him take in a deep breath like he was trying to take in all of your aroma as if it would be his last chance. And then he sighed as he exhaled. “Don’t go anywhere, Amy. It’s more dangerous for you to leave right now.” It was a long way home on a muddy road with no lights or anything close-by for help. Late at night, with rain threatening to pick up soon and a terrible signal. Of course he didn’t want to let you go of his arms.

You shook your head a bit, still buried in the crook on his neck. “I know. I won’t leave.” You had managed to calm down a surprisingly good deal. Even though you had nothing more of an answer as to what was happening in that Manor than you did earlier when you were just guessing, it felt good enough. Taehyung was there, ready to help you in any way he could, and it was enough.

“We should just forget about this and go to sleep,” he whispered before pulling away to look at you. “Then we can see what happens in the morning, okay?” You almost started to get nervous again, your fingers gripping his shirt immediately. Without having to say anything, the photographer noticed the change in your eyes. “Don’t worry, nothing is going to happen. Nothing is going to hurt you, I will be right here to keep you safe all night. Okay?”

You pouted. “You won’t leave me alone?”

He immediately shook his head. “No, not at all, baby. I won’t leave you from my sight for a second.”

He led you to his room on the east wing, a bigger and darker room than your own. Yet somehow it felt safer, too. Perhaps because Taehyung’s energy was all over the place. A pretty and slightly scary at first room, but once inside, it’s inviting and better than the rest. That was definitely Taehyung’s energy.

He had you seated on the king-sized bed with the raven covers while he locked the door, then pushed a dresser in front of it as well, for good measure. He drew the curtains in front of the balcony door and lit up a couple of lamps around the room to make sure you would have light even after switching off the main one. And after having affirmed time and time again that you felt as safe as possible in there with him, he came to meet you in the bed. To give you another peck on the lips and hold your face a few seconds more. Looking at you like it would be the last time he would be able to.

“Let me give you something more comfortable to wear,” he offered when he noticed your jeans and how neither of you had thought about making a stop to your room before coming here.

You pointed at the shirt he was wearing. “Can I have this?” You didn’t want just anything, you wanted something that had his scent still all over it. To make you feel like you were being hugged by the boy himself.

Taehyung nodded. There was no way he would say no to you, and it wasn’t even because of the panic attack you had had earlier. In actuality, he had more or else been treating you like that from the beginning of your days here. Like deep down it was the only way he wanted to act around you; even if he liked to tease or rile you up every now and then. He probably only did that just to play into your idea of him and not scare you away with his affection.

Taehyung took off both his shirt and pants, getting in bed just with his briefs on. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, licking his lips. You didn’t mind, but it did make you a bit flustered. Ridding yourself from your clothing too, you put on his shirt and joined him.

He immediately turned you into the little spoon, snaking his limbs around your body and caging you against his. He nuzzled his nose in your neck, giving you a couple of kisses right under your ear, but other than that there was nothing sexual about his advance. He simply held you close to keep you safe like he had promised. Cuddling into you like it was something so natural, like you had been doing it for years. And his breath on your skin felt like company, his heartbeat on your back like a lullaby, his warmth and entire presence like a shield.

It almost ached you how good you felt at that moment. Good because you loved being with Taehyung, and ached because you wouldn’t be with him for much longer.

You cleared your throat, the sound filling the quiet room entirely. “I’m sorry I spread rumors about your penis,” you whispered, hanging your head low.

A low rumble of a laugh was heard muffled from behind you. “It’s alright,” Taehyung reassured you, holding you tighter. “Even with rumors like that, every girl still wanted to fuck me. And then they could be met with a pleasant surprise, right?”

You rolled your eyes as you could tell he just wanted to make you say it. “Right…” you admitted, without going into further detail about how big he actually was. “But still, I shouldn’t have talked bad about you just because I was mad.”

He continued chuckling, clearly finding your apology amusing. Maybe because he didn’t actually see the need for one, had already moved past the subject. “It’s really fine. Plus, they only lasted a couple of months before I completely disproved them.”

You rolled your eyes again. “By fucking the entire campus.”

“You have to do what you have to do.”

You knew it was a joke but it still served as a pretty good reminder of the fuckboy he really was. Of how different the two of you really were, on a fundamental level, even if staying in that house together had overshadowed that a bit.

“You haven’t been in an actual relationship since I’ve met you, have you?” you asked, not sure why.

Taehyung ran his nose up and down the slope of your neck for a couple of seconds like a predator circling his prey. “No,” he admitted then. “Relationships aren’t really my thing.”

“Not surprising.”

“What about you?” His hands were stroking your body, not in an erotic way, simply just feeling you up while he still could.

“I only do relationships,” you replied. “One-night-stands aren’t really my thing.”

See? Fundamentally different. Even if you didn’t have everything that was already holding you back, you would still probably never work. And no, the one week on vacation here doesn’t count. Because when you are trapped away in a Victorian Manor, with no other communications, in a world so contrasting to your actual routine, with a promise that when it’s all over, it really is… all over. Then you are bound to act some type of way. You are bound to seak the other’s company, you are bound to forget about the rules, you are bound to give yourself in for a romance with an expiration date. Right?

“I’m glad you made an exception for me, then,” Taehyung whispered in your ear. And you couldn’t help but turn to look at him.

Exception. Because this wasn’t a relationship; this wasn’t going to last. Whether it would end tomorrow or the day after that barely even mattered. What mattered was that the photographer and you were a one-time thing. A one-in-a-million thing. A thing that would never, ever repeat itself. And if you liked kissing him and wanted to do it for a bit longer, you had to keep it to yourself. And if you didn’t even want this night to dawn so that you never had to leave, you couldn’t admit it aloud. And if you wished you were his exception instead, you had to just accept you weren’t.

You closed the tiny gap between you and kissed him; softly. Because this might be your last chance to do so. And he let his lips be guided in your rhythm, dipped a hand through your hair to pull you as close as you wanted to be. You couldn’t entirely see the point of indulging in an act that made your stomach rouse like never before, when you knew how it would end. Why would you let yourself get used to something so sweet, when you know you’ll only ever be chasing that high from then on? Then again, you couldn’t stop. You kept kissing him, deeper and firmer, because why wouldn’t you indulge in this while you could?

Even as your kiss became more passionate, your bodies squirming and pressing against one another more desperately, this continued to be the softest you had ever been with him. Almost like there was something more than lust at play there. And even though you could feel his dick hardening on your hip, and your panties soaking up in your wetness, even though you both clearly wanted more, neither made that move. Your lips and tongues were enough; you wanted to take your time to memorize exactly how that alone felt.

And when you had plenty of that, you straddled him gently to press down on his erection with your wet core.

“Ah, Amy,” he moaned, his mouth dropping open. “Fuck me.” It was a kind request, the man’s brain having rotten from desire and you appearing like his sole savior in the moment. His hands traveled down your body, to hold your thighs as you ground on him, sneak under his shirt and pull it over your head. Then they reached your breasts, massaging them like a kid messing with playdough. “Baby, use me.”

You growled as you pressed down on him harder, throwing your head back. Your fingers ran through his hair and you pulled it, making him whine. You loved those eager sounds he made so much. You couldn’t imagine never hearing them again.

You didn’t want to waste any more time. “Do you have a condom?”

He sighed, biting his lip with a pained expression like he just remembered, too. “I- I don’t. Only had one in my wallet, didn’t exactly think I’d get some here.”

It was clear he felt bad, thinking that meant you would stop. And he was ready to accept it. But you were too far gone for that. You couldn’t give two fucks if you had protection or not; there was nothing stopping you from feeling him where you wanted him tonight.

“It’s okay,” you said, surprising him a bit. And right away, you pulled his briefs down to free his cock that stood hard against his lower abdomen. “Just tell me before you cum.” And, with a swift movement, you pushed your panties to the side and lined him up with your entrance.

Taehyung, still somewhat processing what you were doing, widened his eyes and growled when his naked head brushed on your wet pussy. He quite literally howled as you started slowly sinking on him, spasming from how good you felt around him. And you were close to doing the same. You weren’t sure if it was the rawness of it, the intimacy of your treatment earlier, or the adrenaline from even before that, but Taehyung inside you felt so good you almost orgasmed before even bottoming out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your lips digging in your bottom lip.

“Gosh, princess, I love— this so much,” Taehyung moaned once he could feel all of you, his dick curved inside and pressing straight on your cervix. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

As by his order, you started rocking up and down. Arching your back to move back and forth smoothly, and in circles, and in any way that made your man make those delicious sounds. His hands held you like you were something to worship, a goddess, as he helped you in your movements. Until you were dripping sweat and your knees hurt so much you fell forward to crush your body on his. That’s when he hugged you and started thrusting up inside you, all while kissing your forehead sweetly. You ground on him, trying to get your clit to rub against his pubic bone in order to build up your climax.

“Good girl,” Taehyung purred in your ear. Because he knew you were close, and he knew how much his words and his voice affected you. He wanted to push you over the edge with just that. “You make me feel so good, baby.” You whined in response. “You and your perfect, little cunt. Feels so good wrapped around me like that.” And you whined again, picking up the pace of grinding against him, chasing your high. “I want to feel you cumming on me, princess. Want your cum all over my bare dick.”

In his attempt to make you orgasm, his thrust became deeper and harder, and they were immediately attacking your g-spot. You cried out loud, the sensation of it along with the constant stimulation of your clit being a little too much. Your pending climax suddenly felt like so much you tried to hold back. “Tae-” you whined, trying to push back.

But his arms held you down on him more firmly. “No, no, don’t fight it. Give me everything you got.” And he continued to hit that spot inside you, pressing two fingers on your clit as well. And you had an orgasm building upon orgasm, and it was getting uncontrollably big. “Give it to me.” Your mouth fell open in a cry as you reached beyond the point of going back, yet still tried to hold it in. But Taehyung kept thrusting, kept begging. “Please, baby, please cum on me.”

How could you refuse that? You spilled on him before you could understand what was happening, screaming his name at the top of your lungs as more and more spurt sprayed out of you and onto his stomach, like it was never-ending. The high you were ridding was never-ending. A high you had never experienced before, a high you didn’t want to get off, a high sure to make you fall in love.

“That was so hot-” It was the first thing you heard after who knows how long. After you managed to recollect your mind and see in front of you again. And then you realized Taehyung was no longer inside of you; he had pulled you off him and released his own cum against your ass while you were blacked out.

When you looked down, it was a mess. You quickly got off him. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” you said.

“Princess, what are you apologizing for?” Taehyung grabbed your arm to pull you back close to him. He kissed your lips softly. “You looked like you had such fun, never apologize for that.

You bit your lip as your eyes were still glued on his glistening belly. “I… I think I… Did I just squirt?”

Taehyung smiled at your innocent and shocked expression. “You did. And I liked it so much.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Was that your first time?” he asked when he saw you were still processing everything. And when you nodded shyly, he pulled you in for another soft kiss. “First of many to come,” he said.

Almost like he was promising he would be there to make sure that was the case.

The bed was big enough for you to lazily clean yourselves and roll to a drier side to sleep. Taehyung wrapped his arms and legs around you again, the same way he had done before, nuzzling into you like you were a teddy bear. And you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to melt and mold against his body in a way that it would be the perfect fit.

The fear of the haunted Manor forgotten. The only thing on your minds being each other.

Next Chapter

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bonnyskies · 4 years

Text

come back to me [four] ⇢ jjk

you’re willing to do anything to save your marriage, even if that meant you’d have to sacrifice your own happiness to do so.

pairing — husband!jungkook x malereader, ft. ceo!jaehyun

genre — angst, sexual themes, idol au, exes to lovers-ish au, open relationship au, marriage au, parents au

series warnings — infidelity (kinda?), swearing, bisexual!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, insecure!reader, unhealthy relationship, unrequited love-ish, slow burn, use of alcohol, mentions of divorce problems, (more could be added in future chapters)

word count — 2.8k

author’s note — this is lowkey my favorite chapter and i’m very happy how it turned out so i hope you enjoy it as i had writing it.

masterlist

| FIVE YEARS AGO |

Jungkook felt like he didn’t belong here.

When entering the grand hall, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t fit in when seeing the dozens of people around him dressed in the finest suits and dresses, decorated with in all kinds of jewelry.

“Do we have to be here?” His question came out quiet, careful that none of the other people heard him. “I’ve already met your boss.”

“Yes, we do.” You answered with a smile, silently greeting your co-workers as you two passed them and made your way to the center of the hall. “Mr. Jung is retiring and he’s passing the title down to his son, and I’ve got to meet him.”

Jungkook sighed, tensing at the sight of some women staring at him, checking him out. “He’s giving his CEO job to his son? But isn’t his son like our age?”

You shrugged, glancing up at him. “I’m not sure,” you then grinned, “But don’t worry, all we have to do is just greet them and then we can leave, okay?”

“Alright,” Jungkook nodded, bringing your hand up and pressing a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Lets get this over with.” You couldn’t agree more, you despise these type of events just as much as he does.

As you two approached the center of the banquet hall, your eyes fell upon your new and former boss speaking with some of the other employees. When your gaze shifted onto the young man standing beside your former boss, you couldn’t help but take in his appearance. He looked to be around Jungkook’s age, his hair being a light brown color and skin pale, and his build seemed strong, define. The suit he was wearing made the muscles he has appear more evident.

“Oh, {Name}.” Mr. Jung, your former boss spoke up, noticing your presence. He bid the other employees farewell before approaching you with the young man following. “I’m so glad that you were able to make it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, sir.” That was a lie. If you had a choice, you’d much rather have stayed at home with Jungkook and your guys’ one-year-old son Minho instead of coming here.

“I’d like you to introduce you to my son,” he then gestured towards the young man standing beside him. “This is Jung Jaehyun, your new boss and CEO of Jung Enterprises.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You greeted, holding your hand out.

“No please, the pleasure is all mine.” You expected him to shake your hand back, but instead he ended up taking it and placing a soft kiss ontop your knuckles, shocking both you and Jungkook. “My father has spoken very highly of you, and I’m looking for to be working very close with you.”

That made Jungkook’s eye twitch, his grip on your other hand tightening. Even though you two were practically attached by the hip, his presence wasn’t even acknowledged by your new boss.

“I-I’d like you to meet my husband, Jeon Jungkook.” You turned towards Jungkook, hands going up to rest on his chest, noticing his tensed stature.

“Oh yeah, you’re part of that boy band right?” Jaehyun asked, hints of teasing in his voice. Jungkook clenched his jaw, eyes burning into him before nodding. You could practically feel the heat between them. “You’ve got lots of children as fans. Do you guys have any adults? Teenagers even?”

“We have a wide range of fans,” Jungkook practically sneered, eyes flaring. “Of all ages.”

Sensing the tensed atmosphere forming between his son and Jungkook, Mr. Jung spoke up. “Well, I’ve got to go greet some of the other employees and their families that just arrived. Son, why don’t you come with me and introduce yourself to them?”

Jaehyun nodded and left with his father, not before scanning your figure with his eyes, checking you out obviously. That didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook.

“Your new boss is an asshole.” Jungkook spat the moment you two were alone again, eyes still focused on the man who made his blood boil and skin crawl. “An absolute dick.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his insult, shaking your head before leaning up on your tiptoes and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. “I know, but he’s my boss now and that means I’ve got no choice but to deal with him.”

Jungkook pouted, turning his head to stare down at you. “Can we go home now?”

Now it was your turn to pout. “Can we dance at least once before going, please?” Your hands slid up from his hand and placed them on his hard chest, softly grinning at his playful eye roll. You didn’t need a verbal answer, because he was already gripping back onto your hand and pulling you towards the dance floor where some of your co-workers and their spouses were already at, dancing.

“You know I can never say no to you,” Jungkook smirked, hands resting on your waist while yours were on his broad shoulders.

The two of you began to dance slowly to the sound of classical music playing in the background. With your head supporting against his chest and his arms around your body, holding you close to him, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. Nothing else mattered right now, not your new asshole boss or the seductive glances Jungkook received from your female co-workers. The only thing that mattered right now to him was you, and only you.

Jungkook pressed his lips against your hair, whispering “I love you” to you while swaying the both of you at the beat of the calming music.

You smiled into his chest, hiding your face as heat spread across your cheeks. “I love you too,” you said back, pulling your head away and tilting up to meet his gaze. You then leaned up and pressed your lips gently onto his, kissing him softly which he gladly reciprocated instantly.

When Jungkook pulled away, your head went back against his chest, making him smile. But that smile instantly dropped when he noticed a familiar pair of eyes staring at the both of you—more specifically, on you from across the hall.

Those wandering eyes belonging to none other than Jung Jaehyun.

| PRESENT DAY |

“Why the fuck was he here?” Jungkook spat, jaw clenching and eyes flaming with anger.

“He drove me home and I only invited him in.” You answered bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the ground, avoiding his rageful gaze.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What happened to we can’t bring our ‘hookups’ here because this is our house?” He reminded, using his fingers to emphasis his words more dramatically.

“I didn’t bring him here to have sex,” you snapped back at him, “We were just talking.”

“Oh please,” Jungkook sarcastically laughed. “He’e been wanting to get into your pants ever since the day he met you. He saw this as an opportunity to do exactly that.”

“That not him—” you tried to argue but Jungkook continued, cutting you off.

“He’s nothing but a spoiled, selfish asshole, and the moment you let him fuck you.” Jungkook was now shouting. “He’ll throw you out and treat you as just another one of his employees. You’ll be nothing to him.”

That’s when you started to raise your voice. “He’s not like that anymore! He’s not that arrogant, snobby rich boy you met five years ago. He’s different now, he cares about me unlike you.”

“Unlike me?” Jungkook repeats with venom, pointing at himself. “How can you say that? You know that I care about you, {Name}. That’s why I’m acting like this, because I don’t want to see you get hurt by that little prick.”

“You don’t need to protect me anymore, Jungkook.” You sighed, feeling your eyes already start to brim with tears. “We aren’t together anymore, atleast, not in that way.” Just hearing yourself say that made your heart clench inside your chest.

“Why are you so infuriated by him anyway?” You continued, raising a brow at him. “I don’t understand why you’re so against the idea of me seeing him. I don’t stop you from being with Yeonha.”

Jungkook sighed, running his hands frustratingly through his hair. “Because it’s different.”

“How is it different—”

“Because it just is, {Name}!” Jungkook shouted, hands resting at his sides, clenched into fists. “Jaehyun has been trying to get with you ever since that banquet, even after knowing that you were happily married.”

You remained silent, biting down on your lip.

“Yeonha at least was respectful about us,” Jungkook continued, his words making you roll your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed by him. “It’s true. She didn’t try anything with me until she knew about our new open relationship. She’s a way a better person than Jaehyun—”

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly snapped, making Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“She took you from me...” Your voice was low, trembling as the tears that were glistening in your eyes began to escape and slide down your cheeks. Jungkook’s glaring eyes instantly softened and his furious demeanor vanished, replaced with sympathy from your words. “Don’t you dare try to tell me she’s a good person when she’s the reason that we aren’t together anymore.”

Jungkook felt guilt flowing through his veins, heart breaking at the sight of your teary face. You were right. She is the reason why you two aren’t together anymore. If he hadn’t grown feelings for her, you two would most likely still be happily married instead of being in this troubling relationship right now. Sometimes Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if he had never met Yeonha, would you two still end up getting a divorce? Or is she the sole reason for your guys’ downfall?

There was nothing more he wanted to do than to take you in his arms and comfort you. But he knew that it would only cause more damage between the two of you because it would just remind you both that you weren’t officially married anymore. You two are just parents who are still pretending that they still together for the sake of your child’s happiness, that’s all.

“{Name}...,” Jungkook’s voice was now soft, gentle.

Before he had the chance to apologize, you were already walking off, leaving him alone in your guys’ living room, utterly speechless.

“I’m going to bed. Good night.”

As you laid in bed, alone, you couldn’t help but stare at the pouring rain happening just outside through your partially closed curtains. You’d be crying right now if you could, but you were completely exhausted, drained, both physically and mentally.

You didn’t know what to think right now. There’s a large part of you that’s furious with Jungkook, angry at him for being against the idea of you possibly dating Jaehyun. But there’s also that small part of you that feels your heart skip a beat at the thought of him being jealous if you were dating someone else.

But then again, he’s with Yeonha. He’s happy, so why can’t you be too? It’s not fair that he can date someone else while you’re alone, watching him do things with her that he used to do with you. It angers you that he’s fine with the thought you being alone while he’s in a happy relationship—

A flash of lightning and sound of thunder suddenly happened, taking your breath away making your heart stop beating completely.

You couldn’t breathe, and sweat began to form and spread all over your body, making your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin. And with wide eyes you stared at the window, watching as the once simple rainfall turn into a booming thunderstorm.

You’re terrified of thunderstorms.

As another sound of thunder echoed throughout the sky, you clasped your hands over your ears and closed your eyes, attempting to muffle out the sounds of the deafening storm happening just outside.

Back then, Jungkook would hold you close to his chest, and sooth you with gentle back rubs and lingering kisses on the back of your neck. And if he wasn’t home because of touring, you’d have Minho sleep with you in your bedroom.

But you couldn’t have any of those two. Because one, Minho was with your mother. And two, Jungkook and you weren’t together anymore, and it would be wrong for him to comfort you since he’s with someone else now.

You have to face this alone now—at least, that’s what you thought.

With your ears blocked, you weren’t able to hear the sound of your bedroom door opening or hear your husband’s approaching footsteps until you felt the bed dip and him slipping underneath the covers beside you.

You jumped at the feeling of Jungkook’s strong arms wrapping around you, making you try to turn around to face him but was stopped when his grip tigthened, keeping your clothed back flushed against his bare, muscular torso.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice was soft, calming as his hands began to rub soothingly up and down your back. “I got you.”

The tears that were threatening to escape finally spilled, sliding down your cheeks. “Thank you,” was the only thing you found yourself able to whimper out, your own hands grasping onto his wrist and bicep tightly. You were scared that he’d leave you again in the middle night, and you didn’t want that happen, especially tonight.

Jungkook knew about your fear of thunderstorms, never forgetting the reason behind it. When you were seven-years-old, your parents left you home one night because they had to work late, and an unexpected thunderstorm happened that day. It was bad. The skies were flashing constantly with lightning and the ground would shake whenever thunder would erupt. The power in your entire neighborhood went out and you were left in complete darkness until your parents came home, which wasn’t for another five hours.

Ever since then you’ve been utterly terrified of thunderstorms. When you and Jungkook first started dating, you weren’t planning on telling him about your phobia. But when you spent the night with him one day, a thunderstorm happened and then you had no choice but to tell him. You were scared that he’d think you were some freak and break up with you, but he was quick to reassure you that there was nothing you had nothing to be embarrassed about. After that, he was always there to calm you down whenever one happened, whether that be holding you in his arms or staying on a video call with you if he was away on tour until you fell asleep.

He’s always been there to make you feel safe.

“I got you,” Jungkook repeated again, pressing his lips gently against the back of your neck, something he knows that calms you down. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

And you did exactly that, slow inhales and exhales would leave your mouth and your chest slowly began to return back to it’s healthy rhythm.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook spoke up after some silence, hands nonchalantly running down your sides. “It was wrong of me to get upset about you and Jaehyun. You should be able to date anyone you want, I just—” he suddenly paused, hands stopping at your waist. “—I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

You turned your head back to glance at him, lips curling up into a small grin from his words. “I don’t even think I’m into him like that,” you told him honestly, lifting your hand to run your fingers delicately along his jawline. You expected him to pull away but instead he nuzzled himself more into your touch, making your heart skip a beat inside. “I just think it’s too soon—for me at least,” you knew from the way Jungkook’s eyes clenched shut your words hurt him.

“Kookie,” you softly called his name, hearing him hum in reply into your neck. “Can you please stay with me until I fall asleep? Then you can go back to the guest room if you want.”

“Do you want me to go back?”

His question took you off guard, making you freeze in his arms. Did you want him to leave? Of course not, but you knew that this was a bad idea. He wasn’t yours anymore, and cuddling with your ex would be considered as cheating. And plus, you’d be the only one in pain afterwards. Because while Jungkook was in a happy relationship with Yeonha, you’d be left alone by yourself, again.

You should say yes, that you want him gone. But as you turned your head around and stared into his dark brown eyes, the same ones that you fell in love with all those years ago, you found yourself only able to answer with one word. “No.”

“Then I won’t go.” His answer came out fluent, as if he already had his decision made before you even had yours.

Everything felt normal again, with you in his arms and your head resting against his toned chest. The two of you fell asleep with ease after that, never once waking up abruptly at the sound of thunder again for the rest of the night.

You wanted this moment to last forever. But you knew that it wouldn’t.

TAGLIST:

@xworldwidecutieguyx, @yoongis-soulmate, @jikookvfans, @heartfeltscribblings, @chrissfuk, @blazedprince, @btsfaris, @sonderkook, @angel-moni, @http-je0n, @magic-fox-555, @moonfairyjoon, @taozibun1, @ephemeralkookie, @thesquiglybumblebee, @httpjazel, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @dreamer95, @--xxchrissyxx--, @singabon-roll, @its-your-dreamworld, @fancykoos, @galaxyeyedjungkook, @nlnkm, @you-need-namjesus, @teuteusstuff, @moon-asia, @julia-pacheco-blog, @0minabean0

#bonnyskies #bts #bts angst #bts series #bts x reader #bts x male reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook series #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook series #jungkook x reader #jungkook x male reader #bts au #jeon jungkook au #jungkook au

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🍂 Never Too Late (Best Jeanist / Tsunagu Hakamada)

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Family, Slice of Life, Halloween, Autumn

Word Count: 3,884

Pairing: Quirkless Reader x Best Jeanist

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: [x] “You answer the door when I’m trick or treating and at first you say I’m way too old to be doing this but somehow I convince you to come out and join me.”

Author’s Note: This was written for the “Sweater Weather” collab over at the BNHA Sanctuary discord server. You can find the masterlist post [here] – make sure you check it out to read the other awesome entries for this collab! Thank you very much @pluviophile-imagines for hosting this collab. Happy Autumn everyone! For reference, I picture [this] and [this] for him out of costume. I tried finding the original creators and couldn’t, so if you know please let me know!

October 5th, 10:20 am 🍂

October had finally arrived, bringing with it a slew of brisk weather and a kaleidoscope of vivid oranges, reds, and browns. This was your favorite time of year, a time where you got to fully enjoy yourself, free of the shackles of adulthood. It felt so freeing, as if you were once again a child, ignorant of the ways of the world and just wanting to have fun.

Your eyes scanned the walls, lined with all manner of costumes. The back wall was dedicated to the top heroes, of course, the right wall featuring the usual suspects – cats, witches, zombies, even minions. The opposite wall was dedicated to characters from shows and movies.

Despite having been thinking this decision over for months, you still weren’t sure what you wanted to dress up as. There were just too many choices!

‘Maybe a pirate? Pirates are pretty cool. Ah, but black cats are a Halloween staple!’

After spending more time than you cared to admit, you eventually settled on a black cat pirate – which was just a pirate with black cat ears, a tail, and whiskers drawn on your face. With your costume now acquired, you left the back of the store to fill the basket with various decorations and as many different types of candy that you could find.

Satisfied that you couldn’t fit anything else in the basket, you headed for the front to check out, excited to get home and start decorating.

October 29th, 8:10 pm 🍂

“Ne, Katsuki -” you paused in the doorway of his bedroom, giving him a sheepish smile when multiple pairs of eyes turned to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had your friends over.”

“Try fucking knocking next time,” Katsuki grunted angrily but his tone lacked its usual bite. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“Oh, right! I was going to ask if you wanted to go trick-or-treating with me!” you chirped happily, clapping your hands together.

“Like hell I want to do that dumb shit! I’m not a damn kid anymore!”

“A-Ah, right…” your expression fell but you tried your best to keep your smile intact. You should have known that he wouldn’t agree. Seeing this made his resolve falter but he was in front of his classmates and refused to show weakness to them. If he gave in to you, they’d never let him live it down.

“I’ll go with you!” Kaminari’s hand shot up into the air, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Like hell you will!” Katsuki snapped, smacking the blonde on the back of the head. “You’re a damn adult, you shouldn’t even be doing something so stupid.”

“Yeah…” your smile fell an inch, knowing that he was right. Was it really so wrong? Just because you had passed over into adulthood, you weren’t allowed to have fun? To relive the best time of your life?

“Come on, Bakugo, I bet it’d be fun!” Kirishima commented from across the table.

“Yeah!” Mina agreed, sending you a smile.

You shook your head, giving them a soft closed-eye smile. “It’s alright. Katsuki’s right, you’re not kids anymore! Whatever you guys choose to do on Halloween, please be safe!” You turned on your heel and left the room before anyone could say anything else.

Mina frowned at the closed door before turning to the ash blonde. “Your sibling is so sweet! You shouldn’t be so mean to them, Bakugo.”

“Just shut up and do your damn homework!” he snapped, vermillion eyes narrowed at his notebook as he crossed his arm across his chest. A small pool of guilt was settling within his gut, but he pushed it back just as he always did.

October 31st, 9:30 pm 🍂

You checked the clock as you adjusted your costume in the mirror. It was getting late and most of the kids had already returned home, their parents not wanting them out too late. You honestly felt nervous about going out trick-or-treating, not knowing how people were going to react. The negative part of your brain was telling you that it wouldn’t go over well.

So what if you were an adult? You just wanted to have fun for one night! To forget that you were quirkless and sheltered. To forget how unfair life had been.

Trick-or-treating reminded you of simpler times when your brother was more manageable and kind and was still friends with Izuku. You remembered fondly how your friends would always complain because you had to take the two out trick-or-treating instead of hanging out with them, but you didn’t mind. It was fun for you – plus Katsuki looked adorable as a werewolf and Izuku as a pumpkin.

Now they were both teenagers. Even if they did still want to go trick-or-treating, they would certainly rather be with friends rather than you. They didn’t need you to look after them anymore. They were heroes in training, after all, and you were just a quirkless adult trying to keep it together.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the bad thoughts beginning to form inside your mind, you forced yourself to smile before stepping out of your room and down the stairs.

Masaru, your father, was just shutting the door after handing out candy to some kids. He smiled when he noticed you. “Heading out, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Yup! How do I look, dad?”

“Gorgeous, as always!” he pulled you into a hug before pecking your forehead. “Be safe and don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“Okay~” you tried to hurry out the door before your mom realized that you were leaving the house, but she seemed to have a sixth sense about such things. Just as you tugged the door open, she came waltzing out of the kitchen.

“Y/N!” she cried, making your shoulders tense up as you turned slightly. She stood just inside the doorway, her brow furrowed. “You’re really going to go trick-or-treating? You’re too old for this and you…”

“And I’m quirkless and weak,” you finished for her, lips formed into a thin line. “Yeah, I got that, mom. You feel the need to remind me every day.”

“That’s not…” her vermillion eyes landed on her husband and she scowled. “Masaru, tell them that they are too old for this!”

“Honey,” he spoke softly, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Y/N isn’t hurting anyone, they’re just enjoying the season. Go on, Y/N. Have a fun night, sweetheart.”

You sent him a grateful look, ignoring your mom’s sputtering as you quickly slipped out of the house, slamming the door behind you.

The air outside was moist and cold, wind whipping through the trees and robbing them of their leaves. The ground was littered with them, each one a vibrant shade of orange, brown, or red. Despite the sky being covered by clouds, the bright light of the full moon managed to break through in streams.

While the streets were mostly empty, there were still several groups of kids scattered about, talking and laughing loudly. You decided it would be best to leave the neighborhood since most everyone knew who you were. You worried about them complaining to your parents. You already caused them so much trouble, you didn’t want to bring anymore onto them.

October 31st, 10:49 pm 🍂

As the night wore on, more and more people turned their lights off to indicate that they were no longer giving out candy or that they had run out. It was getting hard to find people still participating and most of the kids had given up by this point, deciding to hang out in the cemetery or return home.

‘I haven’t even been out that long, but… I guess I should head home so mom doesn’t end up hurting dad trying to come looking for me,’ you sighed, about to turn around when a light caught your attention from the end of the street. ‘It’s the only house on this street with its lights on. I guess one more can’t hurt!’

You steeled yourself, walking down the dark street toward the house. The street lamps were spread far enough apart to leave darkness between them, the bulbs dull and flickering as they tried to die out. The only decoration on the house was a cute little sign on the door of a pumpkin covered in glitter. The words Happy Halloween were stitched on the top in what looked to be jean fabric.

You had visited quite a few houses and had procured several different types of candy into your bag. Most of them, surprisingly, hadn’t given you a second thought when you knocked on their door. Others just gave you the stink eye but said nothing. There were a few, though, that had given you a stern lecture or cussed you out before slamming the door in your face.

For the first group of people, you believed you had just gotten lucky because you had walked up with or behind a group of kids and they most likely just assumed that you were with them. With no more kids around, though, you couldn’t exactly pull that stunt.

Taking a breath, you brought your hand up, rapping your knuckles on the wood. A minute or so passed before the door was pulled open, revealing a tall, thin man. His blonde hair was swept over his left eye and he wore a tan-colored turtle-neck sweater with a pair of blue jeans. He looked so… familiar, but you couldn’t quite place who he was.

You put on a bright smile, holding up the bag. “Trick-or-treat!”

He quirked a brow, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. “You’re a bit old to be trick-or-treating, don’t you think?”

Your smile didn’t falter because you had expected this already at every house. “Last time I checked, there was no age limit on having fun. I’m not breaking any laws, either. Now, if you don’t mind sir, please give me candy or tell me to leave.”

His blue eyes observed you for a moment, a spark of amusement within them. “Tell me, is it really so fun to do this?”

“I think you,” you nodded. “It reminds me of simpler, happier times. Maybe I’m stupid for trying to cling to that each year, but I’ll be damned if I give up now.”

His gaze locked with yours, softening at the pained look within your eyes. You hid it well, but he was trained to pick up on such things. He pushed away from the doorframe, stepping back inside the house to grab the candy bowl before holding it out to you. “Take what you want. I doubt any other kids will be coming around.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a smile before picking out a few pieces of your favorite candy. “Have a good night.”

“Wait a moment,” he held up his finger before disappearing into the house. When he returned, he was shrugging on a black jacket. “Let me walk you home.”

You quirked a brow as he pulled the door closed, sliding the key in to lock the door. “It doesn’t seem very smart to let a strange man know where I live.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled, keys clinking as he slipped them into his pocket. “Allow me to walk you to your neighborhood, then.”

“What a gentleman,” you smiled softly, beginning down the street with him at your side. “With that kind of attitude, you should be a hero.”

Amusement flickered through his eyes, lips twitching upward. “Hm, I hear being a hero is quite dangerous, though.”

“Yeah…” you turned your gaze to the ground, feeling a frown come to your lips. “That’s what worries me about my brother becoming one. It’s his dream, though, and even if I said anything about it, there’s no way he’d listen. He’s such a hard head.”

“I’m sure he’ll be a great hero one day.”

“He definitely will.”

Silence settled over the two of you as you made it back toward your home. As you passed by another street on the way, you suddenly paused because most of the houses on this street were still lit up and decorated to the nines. Several groups of older kids were making their rounds around the cul-de-sac.

“Ne, sir, do you want to experience trick-or-treating?” you grinned at him, excitement dancing within your eyes.

Blue eyes flickered from your own to the cul-de-sac and back. There was something about the innocent, pure gleam within your eyes that made it hard for him to say no. And it’s not like he had anything better to do with his night. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

“Great!” Without much thought, your hand slid into his, tugging him toward the first house. He didn’t understand why, but his heart started to pick up its pace upon feeling your warm skin on his despite the cold weather outside.

October 31st, 11:30 pm 🍂

Katsuki paced around his room, narrowed eyes darting to the clock every few minutes. Where the hell were you? The neighborhood was dark, the neighbors no longer handing out candy and no kids had come by in the past thirty minutes. You should have been home by now, so why weren’t you?

He could hear his mother in the living room pacing back and forth as she loudly voiced the thoughts within his head. The regret that was pooling within his belly from the other day was now getting worse as worry clawed at his insides. What if you had been captured by a villain? His eyes widened at the thought and he tore out of his room, feet stomping down the stairs.

“Katsuki! Where the hell are you going?!” Mitsuki shouted, pausing her pacing to look at her son. “It’s late!”

“None of your business, hag!” He snapped back, flinging the door open.

“At least put on a jacket!”

But he was already out the door, slamming it behind him as he took off in search of you. His heart was thundering in his chest and he could only hope that you were safe. If something had happened to you, he’d never forgive himself for not being there to protect you.

November 1st, 12:00 am 🍂

You giggled as you fell onto the swing, watching the blonde as he settled down beside you. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled softly at you, crossing one leg over the other. “I have to admit, it was more fun than I expected it would be.”

“See~? I told you!”

He chuckled, poking you in the forehead with a slim finger. “So humble.”

You grinned, sticking your chest out. “One of my best qualities!”

“Did you have the night you were expecting?”

“No,” you shook your head, tilting your head back to look at the sky. Some of the clouds had cleared up, allowing more of the moon to shine down on you. “I never expected to meet such a nice person and convert them to the ways of trick-or-treating.”

He propped his chin up in his hand, smiling warmly at you as his eyes slid across your face. With the moonlight shining down on you, you looked so magical and he briefly wondered if you might actually be a witch. It would explain why he felt such a strong connection to you after only having just met you. He most definitely wanted to see you again.

“You never told me your name.”

“You never told me yours, either,” you grinned at him before holding out your hand. “Bakugo Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

His eyes widened at your last name. The image of his first meeting with Bakugo Katsuki filled his mind and it was almost laughable. There was no way such a sweet and kind person could be related to someone so loud and angry. He refused to believe it was anything other than a coincidence.

You tilted your head curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No, sorry. You just reminded me of something.” His hand slid into yours, his skin ice cold from the wind. “Hakamada Tsunagu. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks warmed at the way he said your name. It was like honey flowing from his lips and you could definitely get used to hearing it.

November 1st, 12:10 am 🍂

Katsuki huffed as he ran down the street, eyes snapping from one side to the other as he desperately searched for you, calling out your name. He didn’t care that his voice was cracking or that the cold was turning his skin numb.

He was running past the park when he caught movement from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to find the source. Relief flooded him when he saw you walking away from the swings with a smile on your face. Without a second of hesitation, he rushed toward you, screaming out your name as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice of your baby brother. “Katsuki, what’s – oof.” His body slammed into yours, arms tight around your body as he buried his face in your neck, holding on to you for dear life. Your heart picked up speed, feeling your nerves begin to fray. Had something happened? “Katsuki -”

“Where the fuck have you been?!” he barked angrily, tightening his grip on you.

“Y-You knew I was going out tonight…” you gently rubbed his back. “Did you forget?”

“No I didn’t forget, dumbass!” he huffed, fingers digging into your back. As badly as he wanted to pull away so he could scold you properly, he was too afraid that you would see the worry and the fear lingering within his eyes. He hated feeling vulnerable, especially around you. He was supposed to be strong, a hero that could keep you safe no matter what. “It’s almost one in the morning!”

“Is it really?” your eyes widened and you understood why he was acting so worried. “I must have lost track of time, I’m sorry, Kat.”

Tsunagu didn’t know how to feel about the sight before him. He felt frustrated that Bakugo Katsuki was, indeed, related to you. He felt amused by how Katsuki was acting, surprised to see something other than plain annoyance within the boy. He also felt a bit sad knowing that his time with you had come to an end.

“You better be sorry!” When Katsuki felt like he had enough control over his emotions, he finally pulled back, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as his narrowed eyes bore into your own. “You’re going to pay me back for this.”

You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head. “I will, I’m sorry.”

“Great, now let’s go home -” he had grabbed your hand, turning toward the entrance of the park when he finally spotted the tall blonde whom he had failed to notice in his relief to see you. His eye twitched, a shitty look coming onto his face as he pointed his finger in the man’s face. “What the fuck are you doing with my sibling?!”

Tsunagu sighed, putting his hand on his hip. “Still as tactless as ever.”

“Wait,” you glanced between the two, blinking curiously. “Do you two know each other?”

“No!” Katsuki snapped, beginning to stomp away but you didn’t budge, turning your gaze to the taller male.

“Tsunagu? How do you know my brother?”

“You’re on a first-name basis already?!”

His blue eyes met yours and his expression softened. “I’m the hero he interned with after the sports festival, Y/N.”

“Don’t you dare use their first name, you bastard!!” Small explosions went off on Katsuki’s palm but the older male just rolled his eyes at him, more focused on how you were taking the news that he was, in fact, a pro hero.

Your eyes widened. “Oh… oh my god. You’re… you’re…”

He smiled warmly, his voice soft. “The number three pro hero, Best Jeanist. At your service, Y/N.” he reached for your hand but Katsuki smacked it away, putting himself between the two of you.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re planning with my sibling, but you can forget it!” Katsuki tugged on your arm. “We’re going home, Y/N!” But you still didn’t move, staring wide-eyed at the tall man before you.

Now you understood why he looked so familiar and you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing it on your own. You had treated him so normally, as if he were just some average person. He isn’t an average person, though, he’s a great and powerful hero, one that had looked after your brother once upon a time.

Tsunagu shifted, his lips tugging down. It was subtle, but he could sense the change in the dynamic between the two of you and he didn’t like it, taking a step closer to you. “Y/N -”

You suddenly bowed, eyes screwed shut. “I apologize for being so flippant with you, Best Jeanist. I didn’t realize who you were.”

He reached for your shoulders and noticed Katsuki reaching for his arm. He was feeling annoyed now, tired of the boy interrupting him and getting between the two of you so he activated his quirk, the threads of his jeans unraveling to bind the younger Bakugo in place. He growled from beneath the cloth, struggling to break his binds.

Your eyes shimmered with wonder as you saw his quirk in action, taking note of the small holes that allowed you to see the milky skin of his outer thigh. You felt your cheeks heating up again when his hands rested on your shoulders, lithe fingers gently squeezing your skin beneath the costume.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Please don’t change how you act around me just because I’m a hero.” His eyes were so sincere and warm as his hand slipped up to your cheek, smiling at the warmth he felt there. “I may be a hero, but I’m still a person. I really did enjoy my time with you tonight.”

“I did, too,” you responded softly, offering him a smile before glancing at your brother, who was still struggling against the fabric. “We really should get home, though. Our mother’s going to have a fit…”

“Of course,” he reluctantly released the boy, dodging backward when Katsuki tried to attack him with an explosion.

“Katsuki!” you scowled, grabbing the back of his shirt without any hesitation, tugging him backward before locking your arm around his neck. “Don’t be so disrespectful!”

“Che, whatever,” he scoffed, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you toward the entrance of the park. You let him for a few paces before you stopped, turning to look back at the blonde that hadn’t moved.

“Are you coming, Tsunagu?”

He gave you a surprised look. “You want me to?”

“Well, you did say you were going to escort me home,” you smiled, biting your lip in thought before finding the nerve to say the next thing you wanted to. “Besides, you need to know where I live if you’re going to pick me up for our date tomorrow.”

His eyes widened a fraction before he chuckled, easily closing the distance with his long legs. You held your hand out to grab his, fingers lacing together. Katsuki grumbled loudly, aiming insults at the blonde as the three of you headed to the Bakugo household, but neither of you were paying attention to him.

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Now facing an internal battle between her heart and mind, Samantha faces her fears and searches for the truth. Will she accept the past? Will she listen to her heart? Or will she let her memories get the best of her?

Chapter 10 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Roach - A SurPRICE Visit

What is this o.O

The Heart knows what the Brain Doesn't

Samantha Coleman

141's High Value Individual

Task Force 141 Base - General Shepherd's Office

The base was quiet. Everyone else fled off to their mission and all Samantha could think about is Alex. But why? Maxine told her he wanted to meet him, but Alex told her it's because she dropped her pendant. Whose story is she going to believe in? She could feel her heart beat differently ever since she saw him with General Shepherd. Her whole body except for her brain reacted to his presence. She even felt weak after slapping him, it's like her brain commanded it but her hands wanted to disobey. Who is he?

Maxine passed by with an apple she got from the kitchen counter.

"Sam, you okay?" she asked, biting the fruit and sitting in the chair across from her.

"I've been thinking… about how you knew Alex and how she knows me…" she sighed, it was relieving to let out all her bottled thoughts, especially that now they're both alone.

"Well, we met in a bar. Had a few drinks then showed me a photo of you." she said, holding her hand.

"I honestly believed he did know you and tried to lengthen the conversation, just so I know he's good enough and knows a lot. He actually aced the test but he was very drunk when I told her to meet again. After that He showed up the next day and I had to work. Whatever happened after my shift was- ow." she interrupted herself because of a minor pain from recalling her memories. She still hasn't been able to remember all of them, even after a lot of sleep.

"Yeah. That's about it on your side. Mine's just that… He looked creepy, his eyes felt like he was looking for me in a weird way and so I ran. After that life continued. You went on a leave and I resumed working." She supplied, staring at the grey walls of the mess hall.

"I wish I'd remember where I went on that vacation. It'd be cool." Max commented, crunching on another bite.

"My heart… beats differently when he's near. It's like he's really familiar." She whispered.

"Oh. Someone's been struck by the Cupid. He is attractive though. Without those ink, he'd probably be your type." Max teased, winking at her and nudging her. Samantha was serious, though.

"Look. I admit my heart feels something for him. It's a mix of guilt and longing. But why would I long for someone I just met?" She sighed and dropped her head on the table, groaning as her mind and her heart battled against the inconsistencies.

"Look. It's not too crowded here. Maybe we could do some research by their library!" Max suggested, creating finger guns and humming the Mission Impossible theme song as she stood up and went to the library. Samantha chuckled.

"So we're spies now?!" She placed a hand on her forehead as she followed her wacky best friend.

Maxine typed down Alex on the search bar, his public profile appeared and they began reading his file. It was all basic ideas, Nationality, Height, his name was redacted and they couldn't bypass it so they just ignored it and headed to the next term.

"CIA Agent Alex helped locate and detain CIA Mole." Samantha read with her mouth. Maxine quickly clicked the article and photos of her appeared on almost every page.

Unlike Maxine, these notes didn't hurt her mind except it hurt her heart that she treated him that way, after all this time. He was there to save her. He located you through Maxine to save you from the same captors that played with your brain months ago.

"Ooooh. It says here you two were safely housed in a remote safehouse for almost a month. Really Sam? Maybe something happened within that time? Can you please remember how he looked underneath those clothes. For me?" she giggled. Samantha knew she was joking but it was an honest possibility.

Could it be that she fell for the guy that saved her and sat with her for almost a month? Or the two of them fell in love? Her heart was racing as the possibilities overloaded her brain, her cheeks started to blush as her thoughts consumed her. This wasn't her mind talking to her, it was her heart. It's reminding her of Alex.

"Oh. Shit." Maxine muttered and Sam snapped back to reality, putting her hand on Max's shoulders and looked into the screen once again.

Due to a special favor promised by Samantha's father, he has authorized to apply an MK Ultra procedure to her, whose main intention is to Alter her memories of the IP Address along with the events that happened prior to kidnapping.

"You agreed to forget him?" Max looked at her, a frown formed as she started to console her.

"I guess so… Maybe something happened between us." She sobbed. She didn't want to cry, but the realization set in on her. They met, they bonded and she forced herself to forget him. No wonder Alex felt sad after being slapped.

"I want to ask him about us." Sam said with determination. Maxine liked the confidence but was also concerned about her feelings.

"What if you wanted to forget him, that's why you did it? Would you be ready to feel the sadness all over again?" Maxine asked. Samantha paused for a while. She made sense but her gut is telling her to push through her initial plan.

"I'm sorry Max, but I made my choice. I have to know everything about us, Whatever it Takes." she said.

"I'm here to support you. After all, you're the only memory I have left. They took everything. I don't know why but my memory began when I moved in. That's where my story started. Maybe there's a reason for it so, here I am for you. You're my family." she said, hugging her tight.

"Well, you could add a few more people in your family." she smiled.

"Yeah. It's full of tough looking brothers ready to protect us. And one soft Gary." she noted.

"He is a sweetheart, huh?" Samantha asked, getting a hint of something else from her.

"Well, he talks a lot and he gets me sometimes. It's a shame he's always out there saving the world." Max chuckled. Samantha froze.

"I know you want this to work..."

"This is our proposed digital art for our ad…"

"... and I know in my heart that I do too…"

"The colors need to be more vibrant!"

"...but I can't live loving you with worry in my heart..."

"I'm staying a little bit longer, See you tomorrow!"

"... and I don't want to be the reason that you'll stop saving the world. I know you want that. It's your job to. It's what you built your whole life to become..."

Her head started projecting two realities, it confused her. Which was right and which was wrong? She knew the work one was right, but the memories she just made right now while crying in front of Alex made more sense. Which was real? Which was fake?

"Sam! You okay?" Maxine snapped her fingers and Samantha blinked rapidly.

"I'm going crazy Max." she panted.

"What's wrong?" she consoled.

"My memories. They're all wrong. Why did I agree to this?" Samantha continued breathing heavily.

"Well, for starters. It's to forget that IP Address you memorized as a kid."

"But why did they change the recent ones too? Did I decide that my time spent with Alex is worth forgetting? Did he break my heart or did I break his?" She sighed. She knew for herself that she was unable to love again because of her loss, but what if Alex made it right for her? Alex did something that helped her move on? That's why her heart felt yearning for him?

"Sam. I'm no love doctor but if this really bothers you, you should talk to him. I have no idea when they'll get back but I'm looking forward to your resolution." She patted her shoulders and gave her a soft hug. Samantha felt like crying, but why?

After a while, Samantha actually had the courage to ask about Alex's whereabouts. Word has it that he's being redeployed to Germany to investigate another alleged Augustus base and that they had no idea when he'll be back.

This worries Samantha because they already heard about a transfer of authority, which in simple words meant : You're leaving the base. And that meant she won't see Alex anymore.

Maxine and Samantha sat on their beds at the infirmary to recover once again, both of them fell quiet as the news they got started to bother them. They already got attached to the people in the base and were sure that they're going to miss them. All they could do is hope that the team gets home before they leave the base.

“You think Alex will be okay?” Samantha shifted her sleeping position to Maxine, who was still awake humming to soothing melodies. Maxine shifted to face her too and smiled.

“You’re worried.” She teased, making her smile and giggle.

“Well, my heart told me I have to worry…”

“That’s normal. And don’t you worry ‘bout a thing… He’s a tough guy, remember? He’s trained to survive such harsh conditions. That’s what his file said, right?” She reminded Samantha, giving her an assuring smile. Samantha shrugged off her worry and closed her eyes. She started to imagine what it felt like being with him, based on information from his file. She can’t help but smile at her crazy idea. She felt like a teenager all over again, obsessing herself on fictional characters she watched on TV, since she could only base his personality on words alone. But she did remember how his cheeks felt, from the slap, and placed her palm on her cheek as well. It felt like he was with her and her heart felt excited as she awaited for his return.

Next Chapter : The Berlin Tower

NOTIFICATION SQUAD MY BELOVED ❤️

@smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

#omg the picture I'm Sorry I tried #codmwfic #whateverittakes #alex echo 3 1 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson

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sailor-manga · 4 years

Text

“Caught” Part Three- a Shouta Aizawa fic.

A/N: Ya’ll I’m so sorry, I really thought part three was going to be the final part, but of course my angsty, sad ass had to draw it out. I’m really liking how this is turning out though and I’m hoping you all have enjoyed it too! You can read the first two parts on my Masterlist. I also slipped in some KiriBaku because why the hell not? xD

Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Word count: 2,520.

You had finally made it to your house, makeup completely down your face. Desperately trying to catch your breath, you would press your back against the door and choke out a loud, and ugly sounding sob. You had absolutely no idea why this was hitting you hard as it was. You knew that there’d always be a chance that Shouta didn’t want anything to do with you in those kinds of terms. You were just a college student, he was a reserved, mature man who also happened to be a pro hero. He didn’t have time for girls like you.

Wiping at your face now, you would cough out and hold your stomach, you felt like you were going to get sick. You stayed like that for quite a few hours, just sitting and letting out the tears, holding back any kind of bile that wanted to come up. After semi calming yourself, you would lift yourself from the floor and quietly shuffle into your room to use a makeup wipe to get all the junk off your face.

Stripping down into PJ’s, you’d crawl into bed and pull the blankets up to your chin, letting out a shaky breath. You contemplated not going to classes for a while, but you were already so behind, you couldn’t risk that.. Tomorrow you’d just have to try your best to avoid the roguish demon.

By the time morning came, you awoke with a migraine, your legs still hurt from running all the way home- It was just a bad day all around. Pushing yourself up, you would grab your phone from the bedside table and check for any notifications. Your heart dropped to see an unread message from Shouta.

Shouta Aizawa: “Please answer me, I need to know you made it home okay”

Staring at the message, you let out a soft scoff and quickly delete it without answering or opening up fully. The reminder of last night slowly flooding into your thoughts and making your eyes start to well with tears. Quickly tossing your phone onto the mattress, you’d wipe at your wet eyes and get up, saunting over to your dresser to get out an outfit for the day. Your attire definitely matched how you were feeling, like last night, you wore a pair of snug black leggings, and a black pullover hoodie with the U.A College logo on it. Very plain, very “Don’t talk to me” vibes.

Grabbing your red messenger bag, you would sling it around your shoulder and grab your phone before setting out to classes. At this point, you didn’t care if you were late- You kind of wanted to wait until everyone was in, that way you wouldn’t be bothered nor would you see Shouta.

Once you got onto Campus, you would thankfully make it late to your first class without any sort of interruptions. Yes, you got scolded- But it was worth it.

As you were sitting through your lecture, your phone would buzz in your hoodie pocket. Slowly pulling it out, you would feel a lump in your throat.. It was him again.

Shouta Aizawa: “Please Y/N, I didn’t see you at all at the start of classes.. Just say one thing to me so I know you’re alright.”

Staring at the message, you would open it up to reply, but quickly delete it instead.. You couldn’t handle it, every time you saw his name pop up, you wanted to choke out a sob. It was still fresh and you were valid to feel that way, but you truly didn’t know the stress you were causing the pro hero.

In his class, he was grading papers, his phone right next to him in case it would go off. He found himself picking up the device to check, just in case he missed the noise.. Nothing. Growling out, Shouta would run a hand over his face and set the phone back on the desk. Why were you doing this to him? He said his piece last night, you probably just needed to recover.. But he couldn’t help but feel his pit of guilt and stress not hearing from you. All he wanted to know was that you were okay.

Your first class of the day was over ,and thankfully you didn’t get any more texts either. Quietly getting up, you would filter out of the room with other students. Pulling your hood up, you would sulk to the cafe area, hoping a coffee would maybe pick you up and get rid of the very distracting migraine. As you walked though, you felt a weird pit in your stomach. Pausing for a moment, you would look around with a frown.. What was this feeling?

Just as you were about to turn around, you would hear someone shout your name. Biting your lip, your eyes would finally fall on Shouta, speed walking towards you with a concerned yet irritated expression. Quickly turning your back towards him, you would jog forward and quickly grab the arm of the first person you passed.

“Oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing hanging all over my boyfriend?” a voice growled. Looking up some, you would see Katsuki Bakugo, you remembered him vividly from high school because of the temper. “Ah, now babe.. Chill out, look at her face, it’s very clear she’s trying to avoid someone” another voice rang. Moving your eyes to the left, you would see Eijiro Kirishima, the man you happened to randomly grab. “Don’t worry, cutie! Walk with us” he said cheerfully, which caused Katsuki to huff out in irritation. Eijiro sighed and grabbed his boyfriends hand before slinging his other arm around you “Where you headed?” he asked with a kind smile.

“My class is the opposite way, but please just.. Walk with me for a moment” you muttered out with a frown, your heart practically beating out of your chest. Eijiro would nod and continue at a slower pace “No problem, cutie! I remember you from high school.. Weren’t we in 1A together?” he’d ask curiously. Nodding softly, you would bite your lip “Yeah, that’s me” you’d say in a hushed tone. Slowly turning around to look back behind you, there was no sign of him stalking after you, maybe he saw you latch yourself onto Eijiro and figured it wouldn’t be good to bug you while you were with friends.

Soon Eijiro would slow to a stop “This is us, you gonna be okay?” he asked curiously “Come on, shitty hair.. We’re already late because of this dumbass.. She looks fine” Katsuki growled, pulling his boyfriend more towards him and creating a distance between you and the redhead “I-I’m fine, realy.. Thanks again, and sorry” you muttered, the apology more towards Katsuki who very much didn’t appreciate you grabbing onto Eijiro.

“Well, see you later then, maybe we can catch up sometime!” Eijiro chimed happily as Katsuki dragged him into their class. You were thankful that people were kind like Kirishima.. Even if you did piss off Bakugo a bit, but honestly, who doesn’t piss him off? Letting out a sigh, you’d watch as the last of the students filtered into rooms. Swallowing hard, you would pull your phone out and frown, you were pretty late now..

Deciding against being scolded again, you would grip onto your bag and head towards the library, maybe you could at least get some studying done.

He felt like a fucking teenager, he was still continously checking his phone, when he tried to confront you, you ran off and latched yourself to someone else, causing a weird jealously to well up inside of him. It’s barely been twenty four hours and he was going crazy. The more you ignored him, the more you avoided him.. The more he was starting to feel like he made a grave mistake.

Once you made it to the library, you would take a seat at an empty table and pull the laptop out of your bag. Opening it up, you would let out a sigh and pull out the syllabus from the class you were currently missing.

As you typed away and got more into your work, Shouta would have made his way into the library, just a hunch that you’d be in there. He would pause at the door and have his eyes fixated on your form.. How, how did you manage to turn him into such a mess? He was trained not to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but here you were, causing him to actively look for you.. Just to see if you were okay, just to see you..

You would occasionally check the time, making sure that this time you actually made it to your next class when you were supposed too.

When that time came around, you would close your laptop and slide it into your bag before getting up and slinging it around your shoulder. Thankfully your next class was close to the library, so if you did have to take a detour, you probably still wouldn’t be late.

Your last class for the day wasn’t too bad, it was just note taking and thankfully you didn’t get any more text messages from Shouta. Though it did still ring in the back of your mind, classes really did help getting your focus off of it. Now, was the hard part.. Going home and having nothing to distract you from it.

As you exited the class, Kirishima stood there with a wide smile on his face, Bakugo quietly throwing a fit behind him “Hey there! We just wanted to see if you were doing okay, and if you maybe wanted some buddies to walk home with?” he asked cheerfully, causing Bakugo to huff “Not we, him” he muttered out, crossing his arms. “Ignore him, he’s always grumpy!” he said hooking his arm around yours, pulling you along before you could really even answer him. It was all welcome though, you were actually pretty touched that Eijiro had you in his head as they were leaving.

As he pulled you along, Shouta would be watching from his own classroom a scowl on his face. He had planned to confront you as you were walking home, but it seemed that Eijiro had saved the day again. He knew that texting you would be useless.. He needed to talk to you, and he would.. He just had to catch you when you were alone, cut you off and surrender his pride just to get a moment of your time.

The walk home with Kiri and Bakugo was actually really refreshing, even though the blonde did make it his goal to call you a dumbass about fifty times. The fact that he was still there was enough for you.

“So are you going to tell me who this mystery guy is that’s gotten you all frantic?” Eijiro asked, which immediately made you swallow dryly “I-I can’t.. It’s better if he just goes unnamed” you said softly, which made the spikey haired male nod “Of course, I understand” he said with a smile. Bakugo would quietly huff before finally speaking up “Yeah- Well.. Cheer the fuck up, whoever that guy is, obviously doesn’t see the potential in you, so fuck him” he grunted before letting out a soft “Tch” noise. “I-I only say that because you’re being a pain in my ass” he added, trying to make it clear that he most certainly didn’t care.

Eijiro would chuckle before squeezing the males shoulder “Though it was put rudely.. I do agree with him, I wouldn’t waste any more thought on that guy” he mused happily before the three of you would stop “This is my place, thanks again.. Both of you” you’d say with a light smile on your face “Yeah, whatever..” Katsuki huffed before looking off.

Eijiro would roll his eyes at his boyfriend before patting your shoulder “No problem! If you ever need some walking buddies, just hit me up!” he said handing over a slip of paper that had his number scribbled on it “Thanks” you’d add before waving to the two of them and walking into your apartment.

Letting out a soft sigh, you would smile.. It was kind of unfortunate you never got super close to Eijiro in high school, you two would definitely have to make up for lost time, because he was nice.. It was nice to have someone looking out for you. Plopping down on your sofa, you’d glance at the piece of paper in your hands and quickly pull out your phone to save his number. The only worry you had was that you really didn’t hope Katsuki thought you were trying to zero in on his man, because that wasn’t the case at all.

Biting onto your lip, you were tempted to text him just to thank him again- But you decided against it, you didn’t want to be that overly annoying friend, not yet at least.

You were just about to set your phone down again when it started to vibrate. Lifting the screen to your eyes, your heart would drop.. Shouta was calling you. You didn’t even have it in you to hit decline, you just watched as the lit screen continued to notify you before going black. Glancing down, you would let out a soft breath.. Why? Was he still bothering you.. He already hurt you, was he trying to rub salt in the wound?

What made things worse, your phone would vibrate one last time. You assumed he left a voicemail, which you had every intention to delete without listening- But to your surprise it was a text.

Shouta Aizawa: “Y/N, you are driving me fucking crazy.. Please talk to me, I will leave you alone if you just grant me this one meet up.”

Opening the message fully, you’d stare at it for a moment.. Why did he want to meet up with you? Why was he even trying to get a hold of you after what he did?! Shaking your head and sucking in breath, you would force the tears back before tossing your phone onto the couch and burying your face into your hands.

Shouta sat in his classroom, doing some last minute work when he texted her. He would stare at the message intently, and when the little ‘read’ icon would pop up, he brought the screen closer to his face “Come on.. Come on..” he growled “What the fuck are you doing to me..” he would sigh, shaking his head some. It was obvious you weren’t going to reply, and that made him feel like he was going fucking mad. Tossing the phone onto the desk he would let out another growl. He needed to talk to you, needed to fix this because he knew for sure now that he had made a big fucking mistake.. He needed you, he wanted you, he had you.. And now he was losing you because of his own actions.

“Tomorrow.. No more fucking around” he growled..

#bnhasmut #bnha eraserhead #bnha aizawa #bnha aizawa x reader #bnha shouta x reader #bnha shouta #bnha shouta aizawa #bnha fanfiction #mha eraserhead #mha shouta aizawa #mha shouta x reader #mha aizawa x reader #mha shouta #mha aizawa #mha smut #angst #my hero fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfiction

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writingsbysam · 3 years

Text

Penance

This time, one of the thousands and thousands and thousands of times, he’s bleeding out in my arms. It’s not like the first time, not a broken bronze chest plate and ravens picking out the maggots. There’s no funeral games here, no truce in the war, and no golden urn. Just a sweatshirt and the distinct smell of gunpowder. It’s my fault again, my rage provoked, taken out on everyone and anything within reach. I’ve always been worse than a hurricane, burned worse than the hottest days of summer. He dies protecting me, and my penance is no longer death, but having to live eternally without him. (How can one kill a god?)

Iron bites into the flesh more, the new technology running through the world faster than Zeus’ lightning, a band of wanderers from a land further than Hyperborea. He’s struck by an arrow this time, and I hardly have to scream before the people from the sea stab him through the heart. I dragged him into this and three ravens croak out a mocking song that sounds strangely more like laughter than a lament. It’s the beginning of the curse that will haunt me for eternity. There’s always some war or another, even if the format changes.

One would think that three war deities would be far too many, but that never seemed to stop the Moirai for declaring me the third puzzle piece to the particular tripartite hell that is war. The first time I see Athena roaming the halls of Olympus her face is pinched with pity, and sympathy. I only see Ares see once, eye bags the size of a small nation, and crazed mutterings escaping through his lips. I’m scared that one day I’ll end up like him.

I meet the war deities of other pantheons, eventually. I see Inanna –or Ishtar as she’s sometimes known depending on the century and the people– quite often and there’s something ancient and all-encompassing about her presence that makes the skin crawl. She’s like if Aphrodite and Athena had a baby and it’s frightening.

It’s a battle between Babylon and the Elamites. I shouldn’t be here in theory, but the curse holds strong, wherever he is, I’m with him always. I’m never a leader anymore, there’s a little less guilt in that, just a foot soldier. Inanna likes to run around as one of her sacred prostitutes, shell necklaces and gold armbands draped over Tyrian purple robes. She’s beautiful and mischievous but deadly as a viper, a combination of nightshade and honey. She holds my hand when I flinch, always watching the spear pierce my love just above the navel. I don’t love her, can’t love her, but her presence calms the roar in my skull. She’s a friend for a nearly a thousand years, until one day she fades away in a mirage and a watery smile. I may never have that luxury. (How can one kill a god?)

The next one I meet is the Morrigan, who lands on my shoulder in the form a crow as I gaze out over the peat. I flinch noticeably and she grows into a raven haired woman before my eyes. She says nothing the first meeting, just stares on out across the ocean over my shoulder. It’s years before I see her again.

This time the Romans gather off the coast, but no fighting will take place today, just trade. He’s sitting there, wearing a woad dyed cloak and a Roman helmet but he is not one of them.

“He will not die today,” Morrigan says in her distinctive croaky voice. I stare holes into his eyes, thankful for the invisibility of the divine for once.

“I know. He will tomorrow. It’s why you’re here, goddess, is it not?” I resign myself to my fate. A wolfen grin, the one I’ve seen when Athena creates a new weapon, splits across her face.

“Among other reasons. Am I not allowed to see my favourite Greek?” she laughs.

“How am I your favourite?” I ask, not sure why, surely she talks to Athena more.

“You’re the only one who visits, even if it’s just for him. You’re even the Dadga’s favourite,” she laughs and it reminds me of the day the Moirai cursed me just a little too strongly. Morrigan is probably my best friend, someone who might understand even more than Inanna.

It happens again the next morning, a version of me screaming at the general of the legion about a price, and an arrow through his temple. It hurts just as bad as the first time, and in fear of Morrigan I can’t let my tears fall. The warrior god and the goddess of might must be strong, right?

It happens again and again and again, all at the same time endlessly. Until one day, the future has no more need for fate and this time he gets to bleed out in my arms. Both of us, mortal and immortal, one 17 years old and desperate and the other 3,206 years old and still desperate. This might be the last time I see him, the curse is broken, and he might finally get some rest. Maybe I will too.

I strap rockets to my feet the week afterwards, shooting across the planet like a comet, taking down bad guys and finally living up to my title “God of Just War” (no war is just, whatever the Moirai thought. I lost everything to war and no one should have to do the same.) Morrigan joins the team after the biggest threat yet, claiming that she had nothing better to do. Her hair’s cherry red now, and she goes by a different name, but she can still kill a man with a paperclip so I don’t judge. We gain others who don’t know what we’ve done and make some sort of makeshift family, but I still weep for him, still long for Inanna’s overbearing smile. Morrigan is closer to mortal every day, as am I. I dream of him dying every night, of the threats to come (Morrigan and I compare notes in the morning, prophecy never quite left the both of us), and of the Mediterranean coast.

I wake up in a cold sweat one night after a particularly rough mission, watching a teenaged boy get shot in the chest reminds me too strongly of my former curse, and I walk into the kitchen to find a certain redhead brewing hot cocoa. I sit down across from her and stare off for a time, could’ve been a minute, could’ve been an hour, could’ve been a year. I talk of inconsequential things for a bit before she looks me in the eyes. She’s muttering to herself before she says,

“What’s the point of being a hero, with all the things we’ve seen, all the things we’ve done?” she says. Her voice is thick and hoarse with an unnameable emotion, the croak that marks her voice out from all others, the one that commands the words of power finally re-emerges.

“Penance, I think,” a mirthless laugh escapes my lips, “we’ve done a lot of bad shit in our 3,000 years. Gotta wipe the ledger clean somehow, huh, Red?” Her eyes go somewhere far away as she slips into the old language, the one older than even the standing stones that dot the Emerald Isle,

“Why, Achilles? Why us? Everyone else is gone or insane. Ares disappeared in 1945, Athena in ‘46, and Inanna… oh god Inanna… I don’t remember her face.” I do, I’ve seen it every night since she disappeared into the Iraqi desert. I answer my birth tongue, a Greek older than Greece. The syllables sit clunkily in my mouth, the sounds rusty from disuse,

“I do. I see it every night, bright as the day she left us. Morrigan… I think it’s because we already know how to be mortal. We cannot die because we have regrets.”

“What of Apollo, or Poseidon? They were mortal for a time and they’re still dying or dead,” she asks.

“They’re Olympians, they’re arrogant. We’re different. I… I can’t be forgotten because I started out mortal, to these days of science I was real therefore I can’t be forgotten. It’s the one thing the damned Moirai promised me when I left for Ilium, that I would have everlasting glory,” I ramble. Morrigan raises a perfect eyebrow,

“You think too much, Philos,” the Greek a halting stop in the lilting tongue.

“You’re probably right,” I admit, “it’s just I know why I do this. It’s for Patroclus. It’s penance. I save people because for three thousand years,” my voice hitches harshly, “I couldn’t save him, and I can’t make someone go through what I did.” Her brows knit into a mask of worry.

“Let’s put on a mind numbing movie and just laugh our asses off for an hour, alright?” she says in English. I reply in Greek, savoring my time speaking my native tongue,

“Raise a toast with me first,” we both raise our mugs, “to Inanna, wherever she is, and to our penance, however long that may be.” She clinks her mug with mine and puts on a movie.

The two of us, the last of the gods, huddle together on a couch passing stories until the dawn, sharing our penance together. And if the next time we save the world, while the rest of our teammates are okay and eating a metric ton of pizza, I look at her across the room and mouth “This. This is why we do this” well that’s none of your business.

Sharing our penance is a little easier together.

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thethousandyearwitch · 3 years

Text

Guilt Edged Frame

“Dreams don’t mean anything, Hidan, they are just your tiny brain trying to process what you did the previous day.” Of course, he would dream that night. Hidans idiocy must really be contagious.

--Short exploration of what kind of Nightmares might be haunting Kakuzu--

~The Kakuzu Angst fic of your dreams~ , 1465 Words, Single Chapter, Angst / No Comfort

AO3 Link

“’Kuzu, I had a really weird dream, listen to this-“Hidans voice distracted Kakuzu briefly from wincing at the terrible quality of their complementary coffee that the Inn offered, though he only replied with a low grumble at the back of his throat.

“So, I was at the beach, and for some reason I started walking into the water, which, like, I don’t even fucking like swimming.”

“Mh.” He thought about anything else he could do instead of humouring his partners need for conversation.

“But get this: Instead of like, swimming, I just continued walking along the bottom of the ocean, as if there wasn’t even any water. And the deeper I went, the more I started seeing corpses tied to big rocks and concrete slabs.” Kakuzu idly tried to recall if he had ever seen that kind of disposal. It would certainly shut Hidan up for a while. But alas, he had neither rope, nor large rock, nor a deep enough body of water, and the shorter man continued. “It was super gross, some of them were like getting nibbled on by fishes, and they were all bloated. And when I tried to touch one of them, suddenly all of their eyes and necks snapped in my direction with a loud CRACK-“ As he banged on the table to emphasize, the few other patrons of the Inn turned with a startle.

The older one of the pair pushed his chair back, hissed a quick “We’re leaving.” before discarding his cup, headed for the exit. They had a good amount of distance to clear today, and he doubted that they could continue sitting there in peace now that Hidan drew increasing attention with his rambling. The morning sun greedily sunk into the exposed parts of Kakuzus face, and he allowed himself a brief moment to close his eyes and take the warmth in. Something about the sounds and smells of this village carried a familiar feeling with it. Children playing games that been passed on from generation to generation, giggling with ecstasy. A nearby shop selling local spices, a particular one that Kakuzu couldn’t quite place, sweet and yet with a spicy punch-

The moment of peace was over as a flat palm patted against his shoulder. “Are you falling asleep standing up, old man?”

“I was pondering if its worth a try to dispose of you via stone slab in a lake.” They fell into a comfortable walking pace next to each other, headed for the thickening forest to the south.

“You don’t think those could have been other jashinists, do you? Doomed to become the fish-equivalent of a saltlick.”

The pair passed a group of four young women huddled together on a bench, eyeing Hidan and whispering amongst each other. The younger man winked at them with his signature shit-eating grin, and the group broke out into a mixture of giggles and ‘No way~’s. Kakuzu rolled his eyes so hard that for a second he was sure they’d snap back into his skull entirely.

“When I was a kid, there were always some girls who claimed they could analyse your dreams. Same bitches who’d ask about your star sign and blood type before laughing and saying shit like ‘Oh I totally knew it, that’s such an Aries thing~’” Hidan flapped his hand around in crude mockery of any teenage girl ever. Kakuzu couldn’t repress a dark chuckle forcing itself through his vocal cords. Some things never change, including some peoples craving to have special psychic abilities. “Maybe I should have stopped to ask them what my dream last night meant.”

“Dreams don’t mean anything, Hidan, they are just your tiny brain trying to process what you did the previous day.”

“Don’t be such a pretentious cunt! I’m sure you dream of diving into a pool of money every night.” Particularly proud of that one, he flashed a self-satisfied grin at his partner.

And Kakuzu left it at that, willing to let Hidan uphold that childish belief if it meant he’d finally shut up.

He’d been alive for too long now to be occupied with something as meaningless as his brains idle thought processing. Most his nights were a dreamless unconsciousness that could occasionally be considered ‘resting’, and he preferred it this way. No distractions, no unnecessary ‘dream analysis’, just a cold dark embrace.

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

Of course, he would dream that night. Hidans idiocy must really be contagious.

Kakuzu was back home in Takigakure, on a beautiful sunny morning. He could smell the fish market not far from where he stood, and the natural high moisture in the air felt refreshing. His skin was still intact, only minor scarring here and there, childhood memories that are meant to mark you, meant to remind you of an innocent time. There was no cracking of bones or resistance of hardened skin when he moved, careful steps through the alleys he grew up in.

Passing a window, Kakuzu glanced at his reflection. Youthful eyes, and dark brown hair that was starting to brush over his shoulders. His fingers run gently over his cheeks to the corners of his mouth, as if something were missing, but he couldn’t quite place what.

A group of children, 10 years old at the most, run past him with excited shouts and laughs. If he were to concentrate, maybe he could recall their names lingering at the tip of his tongue.

The young boy wants to follow them, as if he knew what got them excited, but he stumbles and falls and his hands burry themselves in the wet mud – The sun was just shining, why is there suddenly hard rain beating down on him? Fresh tattoos on his arm sting under contact with the rain, and he knows where he got them, suddenly remembers solitary and imprisonment and the older man who wielded the unsanitary make-shift tattoo equipment.

Lightning flashes and Kakuzu doesn’t need to look to know that blood and mud are mixing on his arms. His wet hair, now easily reaching the bottom of his shoulder blades in length, clings uncomfortably to his skin. He feels like he’s boiling alive, can feel sutures manifesting where they didn’t exist before, a phantom needle pricking along his arms and chest. It’s not mending broken skin, not trying to close festering wounds. It’s opening gateways for the bubbling heat under his skin.

Another lighting flash. His right fist is no longer buried in mud. Instead, it holds a steady grasp around a still beating heart, warm, intact, alive. He’s still at home in Takigakure but he knows it rejects him. The owner of the beating heart is a village elder who the man used to look up to, but now he’s looking down at the choking form, his last words for Kakuzus ears only, curses and banishment.

But the old man doesn’t die. His airways are flooded with his own blood, but he grabs Kakuzus neck with a strength he somehow knows he can’t overpower. He’s flipped into the mud, fist still clenched around the others beating heart, but it won’t yield. Despite the loud rain, and his own heart beating like a drum in his ears, he can hear the old mans voice crystal clear.

“Hashirama Senju should have killed you.”

His fingers grow numb.

“You could have died a hero’s death. You would have died for the village, fought till the end.”

The pressure on his windpipe increases, and his vision blurs.

“But you returned a failure. A disgusting nobody.”

His arms drop to his sides, cold and numb.

“Forever.”

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

Kakuzu startled awake with a gasp. His hair stuck to his forehead with cold sweat as he sat up, hands ghosting over where he had just been choked. It took a couple of deep breaths before he had regained his orientation. Rundown Inn in a Village of maybe a hundred people if he was being generous, he is a member of the Akatsuki, he’s lying in the hardest bed he has ever slept in, and Hidan is on the couch-

Hidan was on the couch, staring directly at him, eyes blown wide as if he had just witnessed the coming of whatever that ridiculous god he believed in was.

Their eye contact was long, uncomfortable, and made Kakuzus twitching fingers increasingly long to tear the other man to shreds. His partner gave him a slow nod with a questionable look, which he returned wordlessly, before he laid back down, turned away.

He didn’t get another second of sleep that night, opting instead to bite the inside of his cheek raw and thinking about various ways to silence Hidan if he dared to speak a word about what he may have seen. Maybe investing in rope wasn’t such a foolish idea.

#kakuzu #naruto #akatsuki #naruto fanfiction #kakuzu akatsuki #hidan #because hes also here #kakuzu fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #angst fic #i love stretching the definition of angst <3

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Note

So seeing that requests are open, may I ask a Yandere Shigaraki x Reader, where they met first when they were kids, but after what happened to Shigaraki they got separated, and for whatever reason they meet again as adults now, and Shigaraki has a lot of feelings and decide to not let her go, and starts to manipulate her, telling her about his past, and how much he needed a friend back then. Plz????

There’s going to be a lot of Shigaraki, this round. Y’all really do love a rat-bastard, but that is not a problem I aim to solve.

TW: Emotional Manipulation and Mentions of Past Abuse.

You always felt younger, when Shigaraki was around.

Your anxious, child-like insecurity was practically tangible, as his hand cupped your chin, that cautious delicacy a constant presence whenever he was touching you. It was like you were a teenager, riddled with nerves and ready to crack at any given moment, if only due to how happy Shigaraki seemed, how giddy he was to have you here, sitting on his bed and in his arms, and as far as he knew, eager to do whatever he asked. It was a social pressure you were familiar with, one you thought you’d left behind in monochrome hallways and academy uniforms. But, a minute with Shigaraki had brought it crashing back like a wave, and after his… confession, you’d begun to remember why you put up with it for all those years.

To be honest, you just weren’t sure how to not grit your teeth and bear it.

Still, as chapped lips brushed against yours, you found the strength to push him away, moving back with a forced, stiff laugh, leaning into Shigarki’s palm, comforted by the rough material that rubbed against your cheek. The gloves, albeit fingerless, were a safety measure he’d insisted on, a reminder of the Tenko who used to care about you so much.

The Tenko you were seeing less and less, lately.

“I… It kind of feels like I’m kissing my brother,” You chuckled, fighting the urge to cringe as he smiled along. If he understood what you were trying to say, he wasn’t about to admit it. Subsequently, you avoided his eyes, as you continued. “I mean, this is a little awkard, right? The last time I saw you, I was ten, and now you’re my boyfriend.”

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” His voice was dreamy, barely lucid and far less than understanding. “That was our prologue, and now, we’re going to have a beautiful ending.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, letting out a sigh as you moved away from him, your smile fading as your gaze turned towards your lap. He didn’t get it, you remembered that now. He never got anything, not unless it was spelled out for him. And even then, you always seemed to be the one saying what needed to be said. “But… I don’t want an ending, not with you.” It was blunt, but you couldn’t hear a response from Shigaraki. You didn’t know whether or not that was a good thing. “You’re my friend, you were my friend, and I love you for it. But this feels wrong.” You paused again, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t think we want the same thing, Tenko.”

The switch was sudden, too sudden to be natural. You tried to get up, but just as quickly, there was a hand around your wrist, dragging you downward and forcing you to stand in front of a scowling Shigaraki. You’d expected this, nothing was ever easy with him. You opened your mouth, ready to pacify the temper tantrum that was sure to come, but Shigaraki cut you off before you had a chance. “Really, (Y/n)? After everything I’ve told you?”

You cringed, but didn’t lose your composure, only caught off guard by the harshness in his tone. “I’m not going to lie-”

“Maybe you should.” His hold on your wrist tightened, growing rigid, crushing, like he was trying to break something. Briefly, you made the mistake of looking at Shigaraki, but the pure loathing in his eyes didn’t make anything better, nor the snarl forming on lips that’d brushed so softly over your own less than a minute ago. “You could try to love me, or am I just so pathetic that you can’t stand to be with me? I mean, you know how much I needed you, how much I need you now. I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you, though.”

Of course, you wanted to deny it. This was manipulation, and it wasn’t even subtle, he was obviously attempting to guilt you into staying. If it was anyone else, you would’ve just punched him, or pulled away and left, if you were feeling less confrontational. You weren’t smart, but you weren’t that stupid, either.

But, it wasn’t anyone else.

And you couldn’t walk away from Tenko.

You didn’t say anything, but he was as familiar with your habits as you were, smiling when you failed to act. There was another switch, another complete change in attitude on Shigaraki’s part, his grimace dissolving as he pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist when you tried to squirm. He didn’t seem bothered when you hid your face in his shirt, nor did he try to regain your attention, content with nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t seem to want to, either.

Tanko would’ve said something. You two were kids, but he was empathetic, like that. He would’ve noticed you were upset and tried to comfort you, not that he ever would’ve considered putting any kind of pressure on you, in the first place. Part of you wanted to hear him justify his actions, to rationalize and sympathize until you believed them, too. It was a sick desire, an unrealistic one, but it was better than accepting the alternative.

That this wasn’t Tenko, anymore. This was Tomura.

And Tomura wasn’t as considerate as he used to be.

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untilmynextstory · 4 years

Photo

CHAPTER FOUR: Na Trioblodi

WORD COUNT: 8K

Alma tries her best to keep the more traumatic events that surround the club from her kids. She knows in the long run it may bite her in the ass, but they are under 6. There are some things that they just don't need to know. Their minds don't need to be tainted with the harsh cold reality of their world yet.

Yet, there are times it can't be avoided when they need to go to the hospital to visit members. Nathan never really questioned things. He took it at face value, or she believes he saves the hard questions for his father or even Opie.

Kaylee always asks more questions. Alma thinks she would make a good lawyer or journalist when she is older. Kaylee's brows furrow as Alma kneels down in front of her and tries to explain Chibs booboo.

Kaylee had drawn him a lovely picture to keep in his room and even "donated" one of her stuffed animals to keep him company.

"But how did he get hurt, Mommy?" Kaylee asks again.

"You know how cars have wires," Alma starts and pauses to see Kaylee nod her head. "Well, Chibs accidentally put two wires together and it caused him to get a booboo on his head."

Kaylee purses her lips and Alma thinks she is going to ask the question again. Instead her little girl takes her hand and leads her inside the hospital room.

Chibs is laying in bed. His eyes are closed and Alma thinks he is sleeping. However, his eyes open slowly and a smile comes across his face.

"Chibby!" Kaylee exclaims, but then slams her hands over her mouth.

Alma chuckles lowly.

"It's my favorite lassie." Chibs comments as he moves the bed to recline higher.

Alma places Kaylee on the bed where her little girl gives Chibs a gentle kiss on his bandage that is wrapped around his head.

"A kiss to make you feel better." Kaylee says as she settles in Chibs lap.

"I already feel better, lassie." Chibs says.

"I hope so. The only boy I kiss is Daddy and sometimes Grandpa."

Alma snorts while Chibs chuckles. "Good. You shouldn't be kissing any boys."

"Boys are gross. Besides, you and Daddy are man." Kaylee points out. "Besides, I brought you Rummy."

Kayle hands over her blue monkey to Chibs. "It is so you have a friend since I'm not allowed to spend the night."

"That's sweet of you luvie." Chibs tells her as he accepts the soft stuffed animal.

"Any idea of how long you'll be here?" Alma asks softly.

"I'll say a couple weeks if I don't have any complications. So hopefully my brain doesn't act funny."

"Are you going to be able to come to my birthday!" Kaylee cries out.

"Oh, luvie, I don't know."

Alma is surprised when the tear line Kaylee's eyes. She is immediately grabbing her daughter and holding her clothes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I want Chibs there and Daddy," she wails.

"Honey, Daddy is going to be at your party. Why wouldn't he?"

Kaylee hides her face with her small hands. "Daddy isn't home like he used to be. You and Daddy mad at each other."

Alma frowns as she cuddles Kaylee closer to her. She presses a kiss to her forehead. "Daddy will be at your party, sweetie. You'll probably get mad because he won't let you play with your friends. And Chibs booboo needs to be watched by the doctors. We'll save him some cake and you never know maybe Chibs can come over and have a tea party just you two."

Alma looks over at Chibs who is watching her with a serious face. Her troubles with Jax officially leaving the walls of her home.

Kaylee nods her head and looks back at Chibs. "I'll save you a piece of cake, Chibby."

"A lass after my own heart." He tells her.

Alma will feel awful if she ends up lying to Kaylee. It seemed Jax may end up missing his daughter's birthday as he and the club ended up in jail. They had apparently thought it would be a good idea to attack some church meeting.

From what little she gathered or cared to listen to, Gemma told her it was a set up. Alma knows it probably was, but they should've been smarter trying to get retribution for Chibs. Alma can't find it in her to feel sad or mad. She simply does not even care at this point. The only thing that matters is her childrens' happiness and safety.

She knows any happiness she has managed to conserve is going to be sucked up by her mother's upcoming visit.

She is currently at the Stockton Metropolitan Airport waiting for her mother. Apparently she is coming back from a trip from Paris with her current sugar daddy. Her mother had gladly informed her she was cutting her trip short to come to her own granddaughter's birthday party. Alma can already feel a headache forming as she looks at her mother strolling out of the airport with her designer suitcase and carry on. Her mom's eyes are hidden by the Gucci sunglasses, but by the frown on her face Alma knows her mom is about to lash at her for something.

Alma waits as her mom strolls over to the car and places her luggage in. Ana gets into the passenger side and slams the door. "You could've helped me with my bags." She snaps.

Alma sighs and just pulls out of her parking spot. "Sorry," she mumbles.

"Don't mumble," Ana tells her. "And don't be moody because your husband is locked up."

Alma looks over at her mother. "How'd you know about that?"

"Google alerts since my daughter doesn't tell me anything."

"It really isn't -" Alma begins to say, but is cut off.

"It is my business! My grandbabies are affected by this shit." Her mom practically screams. "And a fucking explosion at the garage. Those babies could've gotten hurt if they wanted to help out."

Alma purses her lips. She loves her mom. She really does, but she has never been there. Sure Alma had food, clothes, and shelter, but it seemed the moment Alma didn't conform to what Ana wanted her mother gave up instead of listening. Her mom reminds her of those pageant and dance moms she sees occasionally on TV. Her mom only wanted a good image.

After all, despite her mom's bitching, she didn't care about the criminal aspect of life. Her mom's sugar daddy has connections to the Russian Mafia. To her the mafia was cleaner than that of a motorcycle club. Alma doesn't bother pointing out her mother's hypocrisy.

"Is he even gonna be home for Kaylee's party?"

"I hope so, but it's not like this is going to be the only one he misses right." Alma remarks bitterly.

Ana chuckles. "I warned you about this. I told you what you should've done when you got pregnant."

Alma whips her head at her mother. "How can you say that! How can you look at me and tell me I should have gotten rid of Nathan."

Ana sighs. "You know I love Nathan. You were just a kid, Al. Jax knew fucking better than to mess with you. I'm still fucking confused why you spreaded your legs for him knowing how he fucked anything. You could've gotten out of this town. Out of this life."

"You can't change the past, Mom."

"Just repeat it as it seems." Ana remarks sadly.

"Grandma, why are we at a church?" Nathan asks as he licks his ice cream.

Gemma looks down at her grandchildren. Nathan is looking up at her with Jax's blue eyes. Does Gemma feel some guilt for what she is about to do. Maybe, but her boys are locked up and if Oswald can't be swayed by a pair of doe eye kids missing their daddy then the man is heartless. She just didn't want her granddaughter's birthday to be ruined by her father's absence. She knows with the charges the men have they might be going away for a while.

"We're going to visit a friend." Gemma tells him.

"Why?" Kaylee asks.

"Because I haven't seen him in a while." Gemma replies as she digs in her bag for a wipe. Somehow they always manage to get ice cream everywhere.

Kaylee tries to fight her when she is wiping her face.

"Grandma!"

"Well if you didn't get the ice cream everywhere I wouldn't have to do that." Gemma replies.

"I'm not a baby. I can wipe me face." Kaylee replies sternly.

Gemma looks at her with a raised eyebrow. She knows Kaylee is going to be trouble as a teenager for the whole family.

"Just be nice and quiet when we go in, alright?"

Both kids nod their heads and they make their way inside the church. The choir is singing beautifully and Gemma can spot Oswald's daughter in the front. She is the same age as Nathan. Oswald turns around from the side of their arrival, Gemma waves before ushering her grandchildren in the pews.

Gemma waits silently for the practice to finish. Luckily the kids were still entertained by their ice cream. As soon as the practice is over, Gemma is taken back by Tristan running over to them.

"Hi Nathan!" The girl greets with a wide smile.

"Hi, Trissy," Nathan replies and Gemma watches, entertained as her grandson's cheeks turn pink.

Tristan smiles before turning towards Gemma. "Hi, I'm Tristan."

"I'm Grandma," Gemma replies while Oswald comes up.

"Why don't you show Nathan and Kaylee the church while I talk to Gem." Oswald suggests to Tristan.

The kids don't need a verbal response as they rush out of the pews.

"She sings beautiful." Gemms starts.

"I'm gonna be out of town for the recital. Trying to catch some rehearsals." Oswald explains.

"You're a good dad."

Oswald smiles as he stuffs his hands into his suit pocket. "Sometimes I forget Jax is a dad. Him and Alma were the last couple I expected. Tris is always talking about Nathan though." He pauses as his face turns serious. "I heard about him and Clay."

"Your office told me you were here. Didn't know who else to go to." Gemma explains.

Oswald sits in the pew in front Gemma. "Maybe it's time for a lesson, Gemma, for all of us."

"Maybe." Gemma agrees slightly. "But this isn't it. Zobelle set up that bust. He's ripping apart the club. He's ripping apart charming." She tells him bluntly. "Clay outed Jacob Hale's bullshit scam, saved your land. Thought maybe you'd like to return the favor."

"How big a favor?"

Gemma licks her lips. "300 against three mil."

"Jesus Christ. I'd have to put up the same land for that kind of bail. One infraction, one guy splits, I lose it all. I lose it all." He explains to her hotly.

"They're not safe, Elliot. If I don't get them out of there, I might not see any of them again. Nathan and Kaylee might not see their father again."

Oswald doesn't say anything as he gives her a closed lipped smile. Gemma stands as she digs in her bag. "I'm not sure if Tristan got an invitation." Gemma passes over the invitation to Kaylee's upcoming birthday party.

Jax sits in the stiff metal chair with the cuffs around his wrists as he waits for Stahl to be done with her pissing contest. He doesn't know what she gets from having him sitting alone in a room especially in prison. If anything it's welcomed considering the shit show the club has found themselves in.

It was clear Zobelle had connections everywhere with how early on Juice was able to get attacked. They were lucky that Half Sack was able to pull his weight in getting his top rocker in securing them protection through Laroy. However, he was right in telling Clay that it would be stupid to make such a rash decision regarding retaliation. They would be playing right into Zobelle's hands and look where that got them. In jail and Clay decided to throw his fists at him for whatever bullshit Stahl managed to trigger in Clay.

Finally Stahl shows her face as she enters the room with an infamous manilla folder. She sits down and smiles at him. He is brought back to the last time they were in a room together where she brought him the worst news of his life.

"I know you want the MC on a better path. Put some distance between the law and the harleys. Legit porn business is proof of that. It's real smart, Jax. My guess is that you don't even want to be dealing guns." Stahl begins as she sits up straighter and opens the folder, which reveals pictures of their Irish contact Cameron Hayes meeting with Zobelle. "I'm not after SAMCRO. I want Cameron Hayes's true IRA contacts. Consider it retaliation for the Mick assholes jumping ship. And we both know that you'll never win this war against Zobelle."

"I'm not in a war." Jax replies.

Stahl smirks as she tilts her head. "You look pretty battle-worn to me." She replies back. "Look, I don't give a shit about this beef between you and Clay. Your club, your business. But maybe I can help you repair the damage, very least keep you alive. How long do you think you're gonna last out there on the yard?" She taunts. "They will pick you off, one by one, same way they did Juice."

"Then get us a decent bail." Jax answers as he leans back in his chair.

"I'll do better than that." She promises. "You give me inroads to the Irish, I'll get you and the club full immunity. I might even be able to get Otto's parole back on track."

The room is silent as they stare at each other. Jax isn't stupid nor is she. He will give it to Stahl she is a manipulative bitch who knows how to do her job for the most part.

"You have to think past your hatred for me." She implores. "You're smarter than that. I am offering you a bigger picture."

Jax isn't prepared for the next pictures that she pulls out. It is of Alma with the kids. They are at a park and the kids are smiling wide and happy. However, looking at Alma, despite the smile on her face, he can tell in her oversized cardigan that his wife isn't happy.

"You have a great girl, beautiful kids. I know how much they mean to you. I heard you and your wife have been having marital troubles and can't fix that from a prison cell, Jax."

Jax shakes his head and gives her a nasty smile. "You know my family...being a father...they've given me a new pair of glasses. Find myself thinking about the things I do, things I say. Ramifications." Jax leans up and looks down at the photos. "You have to. Not as angry or reactive. I can see that. For instance, you showing me these photos, trying to play my rage, my need for revenge. It didn't work." He tells her bluntly. "See, I was able to take a moment, think. And I realized that if we did have a relationship with the Irish... Which of course, we don't... What'd stop me from tipping them off? Letting 'em know you got 'em under thumb? You took a huge risk playing that card, which means you're desperate. You got nothing."

"You really are the smart one." She muses as she stands up and gathers her things. "By the way... Your bail was posted. You're all free to go and make sure you say hi to your mother in law for me. Heard she was back in town."

Alma is up late at night wrapping the presents for Kaylee's party. She had picked up last minute gifts for her daughter for the party. Gemma was actually going to keep the kids for the next couple days so the set up for the party could be a surprise for Kaylee.

She had headphones in her ear so she didn't hear anything or even feel the vibration from the door closing. She has placed the last piece of tape on the present when her eyes just flick forward for a brief second and they fly back to the figure standing in the doorway. Alma almost screams at the site before she realizes it is Jax.

Her body instantly relaxes at the sight of her husband and she removes her headphones. She pushes the presents away as she stands up. She is only wearing a simple white tank and just a pair of black cotton panties.

Jax's gaze is just burning her. He isn't speaking. Alma looks him over and she can see some cuts and bruises on his face. She walks over to him slowly and her arms wrap around him tentatively.

She isn't going to ask about the wounds. She knows she won't get an answer. She is surprised when his arms come around her and he holds her tightly. She is pressed tightly into him. She thinks she could cry. Even in his warmth, she still feels so cold. She doesn't move away and she only closes her eyes as she listens to his heartbeat.

They stay that way for a while until she feels his hands trail down her body. They settle on her hips and his fingers dip below the band of her underwear. She leans away from him a little.

"Jax…" She questions as to what he is doing, or more so what this even means.

It's instinctive as he moves his hands to cup her thighs and brings her up that she needs to wrap her legs around him.

Their lips meet instantly. Jax is walking them towards the bed as their tongues clash together. Her legs become tighter because despite how much she feels as if she hates her husband, she loves him just the same.

He lays her down on the bed and she quickly discards her shirt while he grabs at her underwear ripping them off quickly. He pulls away from her and he rids himself of his shirt while Alma works to unbuckle his belt buckle. Jax pushes her hands away. He scoots to the end of the bed and his hands grip her thighs as he moves her with him to the edge of the bed.

His fingertips graze her thighs as they trail past her stomach to her breasts. Their eyes lock on each other as his fingers circle her nipples. He pinches them and tugs causing her stomach to clench. He leans forward and captures her nipples in her mouth and her hands come up into his hair for support. His tongue worked on her nipples making them hard to the point it stung a bit. Alma bucks her hips up for some type of relief before he pulls away. He brings his fingers up to her mouth and Alma immediately opens up and takes his fingers. She moans as she coats them before he tugs them out of her mouth and trails down between her legs. His fingers ghosted over her center in a teasing manner as he moved up and down her and circled her opening before he moved his attention to her clit.

"Fuck," she moans out as it catches her by surprise.

"Let me hear you," Jax tells her as he applies more pressure and sinks his middle finger inside her.

Alma can feel the clenching in her abdomen as her toes begin to curl as he massages her clit with his thumb while fingering her.

"Come for me, darlin'," Jax demands.

Alma's body clenched as she felt her fire ignite her body. Her thighs tremble from her orgasm and she is still coming down from her high when she feels him lick a long stripe up her folds.

"Jax!" Her hips buck up as her grip on his hair tightens. It was almost painful as he traced a pattern against her clit. His fingers dug into her thighs and Alma knows there might be bruises tomorrow morning. She was caught off guard when Jax sucked on her clit and nibbled it and it triggered a second release.

She screamed when she felt Jax slam into her and her walls clamped down hard around him. He didn't give her a moment of reprieve as he started to thrust slowly, but deeply in and out of her.

"Shit...Jax," Alma moans out as she tightens her legs around him. Her hands moving from his hair to his shoulders.

Jax moves one of her legs so it rests on top of his shoulder. Alma moves her arms so that she clenches the bedsheets.

Alma cries out from the change in position. "Jax...I -"

"Give me one more, Alma," Jax demands.

Alma opens her mouth, but no sounds come out as her mind goes blank.

"Fuck!" Jax roars as he chases his releases.

She can feel warm spurts coating her walls. She comes down from her high she is well aware of the mess between her thighs that have leaked to the sheets. She hisses as Jax pulls out from her.

"Fuck, babe," Jax whispers.

Alma somehow manages to look down. Her thighs are still twitching as she watches Jax's fingers ghost over her thighs. She whimpers as she feels Jax push his fingers back into her and keep his release there.

Her mind is foggy still and she almost misses the words he says that clears any ounce of peace and relaxation she has.

"I want another baby."

Jax thinks he would prefer to be in a standoff with the Mayans than standing directly across from his mother in law. Ana always had a way of getting under his skin. Not only his, but everyone around her. He dreads even letting his kids be near the devil in disguise.

However, coming back from lockup, the last thing he wants to deal with her in his kitchen staring him down. Maybe Alma could have given him a better warning than waking him up to inform him that her mom was there before she dashed off to fucking somewhere. Considering how he ambushed her last night, her mother was probably the last thing on her mind.

He doesn't know how Chico dealt with Ana for how long as he did. Of course, Ana is a beautiful woman despite the shitty personality. Alma gets her looks from her mother because if how Ana is aging is any indication of how Alma is, he is going to be a very lucky man.

Yet, as he stirs his coffee, Ana has been glaring at him since he walked into the kitchen while she drank her own cup while pretending to read the newspaper.

Jax runs his hand down his face. "Is there a problem?"

"Your face looks like it hurts." She replies as she places the newspaper down.

"Your concern touches me." Jax mocks.

"One day Alma will wake up."

"Ana, I really don't feel like dealing with this shit."

"Do you really think I care?" Ana retorts.

"Actually, no I don't. I don't' think you care much about anything except for what guy is gonna write you a check."

Ana laughs. "Do you think those words hurt me?" She flicks her hair over her shoulders. "They don't. Nothing your mom or you can say will cause me to lose any sleep at night. In fact, you just wasted your breath." Ana stands up and folds her newspaper. "Alma was young - is young. The betrayal of what you did...that will never fade. Fucking her and trying to get her pregnant isn't going to keep her here."

Jax shakes his head. "I'm not doing this."

Ana snorts. "Of course you don't. I'm not putting you on a pedestal."

Jax is glad that their house is big enough where he can hide and not come into contact with Ana. Although, he is sure she left the house shortly after their "talk". So he has been mostly left to his own devices. He at first was gonna head to the club as the last place he wanted to be was his house. However, he wasn't going to run away from his problems. He wasn't going to play right into Ana's hands. He knows her favorite thing to do is playing mind games with people. He might have fallen into that trap.

So he decided to work out and try to burn off that anger because at the end of the day, whatever is going on between him and Alma is between him and Alma.

He did a brutal workout that left his arms feeling like noodles. He walked into the kitchen to refill his bottle of water before jumping into the shower when the front door opened. He is silent as Alma comes in carrying some grocery bags no doubt filled with more party supplies for Kaylee.

"Hey," Alma greets with a bright smile.

"What the fuck are you telling your mother?"

Alma's smile deems immediately. "What?"

"She seemed to have a lot to say about the state of our marriage."

"She always has something to say Jax." Alma replies as she begins to put away the groceries. "I'm surprised you would even listen to her."

"Well it seems that I have to listen when my wife isn't talking to me."

"Talk?" Alma sputters in disbelief. "Since when in the fuck do you even want to talk?"

Jax and Alma stare at each other before Alma is the first one to break away by shaking her head.

They don't speak to each other for the rest of the day.

Alma smiles as she watches the group of kids running around in her backyard. The turn up of kids was quite surprising. Most of the kids are from Nathan's class who have younger siblings that are closer to Kaylee's age. Considering that Kaylee hadn't been in daycare, the only friends she has managed to make were from the many hours they clocked in at the playground.

However, Alma is aware that most of these parents are just curious as how the Tellers are living.

With the flurry of activity, it has led her to keep her distance with Jax. They have a semi united front. She just has been keeping her distance. This day is about Kaylee turning 5. Her baby is getting older and there doesn't need to be any drama.

Alma picks up some trash and throws it in one of the garbage bins before heading back into the house to get the birthday cake. She knows Kaylee is itching to open some of her many birthday gifts.

Alma heads into the house and begins gathering the materials she needs. She is grabbing the candles and the lighter when the backdoor opens. She looks up and she is surprised to see Gemma is the one to walk through the door.

Gemma has been the main person keeping the kids all together and making sure nothing can ruin her granddaughter's day.

"You better be careful with Tristian and Nathan out there."

Alma laughs. "He has a crush. Let him be."

Gemma snorts. "I'm pretty sure he is already planning their engagement."

"I bet Karen would love that." Alma tells her. "I'm sure Clay would really love that."

Gemma snorts. "So I do want to know what your mom and Jax said to each other for them to act like they don't exist?"

"Honestly, I am not all that sure what my mom said." Alma reveals truthfully. "But I know best not to get in between that."

"Still, it must be alot on you."

"Mom only visits a few times a year and afterwards I treat myself to a nice spa day." Alma jokes.

"You know...your dad would be proud of who you've become. It's a shame he isn't here."

Alma nods her head. Alma never knows what to say when it comes to comments about her dad. She loves him and the few memories she can remember. She knows he was trying his best to be a good father. She also knows that it didn't erase his faults as a man involved in an outlaw club or the fact he treated her mother like shit. She knows there are things she doesn't know about her parents' relationship. She knows at one point they had loved each other. Yet, her dad had broken something in her mom to turn her into the person her mom has become.

Besides, Alma thinks if her dad was alive he wouldn't approve of her relationship with Jax.

She knows if her father was alive, the path her life has taken wouldn't be the same.

"I wish the kids would have been able to meet him."

Gemma goes to answer, but the doorbell goes off. Alma leaves the kitchen and heads to the front door. She checks the side window and frowns at the sight of David Hale. She opens the door with a confused smile.

"I don't remember sending you an invitation." She jokes.

David gives a sad smile. "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you guys should hear this from me."

"Al, who's at the door?" Gemma asks as she walks into the hallway.

"Hi, Gemma," David says as he walks into the house a bit. "You should sit down for this."

"What's going on?" Gemma demands. She doesn't move to sit. She just stares David down.

David sighs as he focuses on Gemma. "We just found Luann Delaney off county 18. Beaten to death. There's no other details right now. I'm sorry."

Gemma is frozen and Alma doesn't have any words.

At that moment, there is laughter coming from the kitchen. Alma recognizes them as Jax's.

"Alma?" Jax calls out.

"Excuse me," Alma tells David and Gemma before she walks back into the kitchen. Jax has a birthday hat on and he is admiring the birthday cake on the table.

Jax looks up at her and his smile fades. "What's wrong?"

Alma takes a shaky breath. "Luann was killed."

Alma never had to plan a funeral before. Luckily it seemed Luann had her wishes already laid out. Based on the dates on some of the paperwork, it seemed she had been prepared since Otto got locked up. Luann already had the plot, casket, and gravestone picked out for both her and Otto.

Somehow they were able to get through the party and didn't say anything until the guests left. Alma didn't engage in the conversation. She took care of getting the kids ready for bed. She really couldn't find anything to say about this. The only thing she does know is that Luann was having trouble with another porn producer, but she really doesn't want to think about porn scabbles would really lead to murder.

Her heart just went out to Otto. She knows most likely that he won't be able to even attend his wife's own funeral. And to lose her in such a violent way, she can't imagine that pain.

Alma just knows that now she has to get in touch with a lot of people in the adult entertainment industry to set up some type of memorial for Luann. She thinks she'll asks a few of the girls to help with that.

Alma buries her head in her hands and resists the urge to cry. Luann had always done so much for her and looked out for her. Luann was the only old lady that ever reminded Alma that she needs to come first before her old man.

The sound of her doorbell going off causes her to jump. She wipes her face in case any renegade tears managed to slip before answering the door. She is surprised to find Unser standing on the other side.

"Sheriff?"

He gives her a small smile. "Hey, Alma, sorry to come over unannounced. I'm looking for Jax."

"He is visiting Otto. Don't when he is going to be back. What's going on?"

Unser sighs and she can see the internal debate of wanting to tell her. "Couple of the girls were busted in a prostitution sting. One mentioned Jax was their boss."

"Fucking great," Alma mutters.

Jax thinks telling Otto that Luann was murdered and he believed his actions led up to it was one of the hardest things he has ever done. It is easily the worst and he can't even imagine the pain his brother is in. His brother entrusted him and the club to protect Luann. To take care of her since he couldn't. He sacrificed years with Luann for the club and the club couldn't keep their end of the bargain.

Jax parks his bike in his driveway. He had plans to go to the club and get a rundown of what they had planned for the day, but right now he doesn't want to be near his brothers. He just wants his family. But he knows the kids are with his mom and Alma was at the house setting up Luann's funeral.

He enters the house through the side door that leads into the kitchen from the laundry room. He finds Alma standing by the stove and it seems she is making some tea. She was never one to really drink coffee.

She looks up at him and gives him a sad smile. "How was Otto?"

"Broken." He tells her simply as he leans against the counter opposite.

Alma folds her arms across her chest. "Are they going to let him go to the funeral?"

"He said probably not as he and the Warden are in a pissing contest."

Alma kisses her teeth and he moves to get closer to him, but she turns around causing him to frown.

"Unser stopped by." She informs him.

"Yeah?"

"Apparently a couple girls were busted for prostition."

Jax rolls his eyes. He almost growled in frustration. "You gotta be shitting me."

"Named you boss. Unser said he would be at the station."

"Jesus Christ."

"This isn't going to mess with your charges is it?" Alma asks softly.

"I don't know. It's not like they have any proof."

"They work at Cara Cara, Jax. You are now practically the owner. It is not going to take long to connect those dots." Alma points out. "Have you even thought about what it means for you to be possibly going to jail, Jax?"

"Are we really going to have this talk now?" He questions her. Jax thinks this is the last thing they need to be worrying about. He doesn't even have a court date yet. They can worry about logistics later.

"No, I guess not."

The teapot screams.

Jax is tried. He is exhausted. It took them forever to find leverage for the judge so he would drop the case against the Chinese's contact. It's early in the morning - very early. The kids will still be sleeping, but as he walks through the door he can hear Alma in the kitchen getting breakfast ready.

He knows he should immediately make the move to shower and wash off the day. Instead he walks into the kitchen and sits at the breakfast island. Alma's eyes flicker over to him. From the profile, he can tell his wife is tired.

He has noticed the dark spots under her eyes have been increasing since Luann's death. He didn't realize Luann was teaching her about business. Alma has been handling a lot of Cara Cara's paperwork with Bobby as they figure out where to go next in leadership to oversee Cara Cara. Jax is proud of his wife and he realizes he hasn't said it or even showed her.

Yet, he has found his wife has gone out of her way to never be alone with him. She uses the kids as a buffer and when he comes home to go to bed she is already asleep. She also keeps her distance at Cara Cara.

He is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize she made him a cup of coffee until it is sliding in front of him.

"Thanks, darlin'." He tells her.

She smiles as she goes back to what he realizes is cutting up some fruit. He can see that she has taken out bacon and sausage and she has supplies to make French Toast.

"How long you've been up?" He asks her.

"About 30 minutes."

"You need some help?"

That causes her to look up at him confused. "I'm good, Jax."

"Babe…"

Alma sighs. "I don't want to do this right now."

"We need to talk."

Alma looks at him and he can tell she wants to say more, but she doesn't.

"I'm lost here, Alma." Jax tells her the truth. He doesn't know how to fix anything between them. He doesn't know how to go back to where they were. "I'm trying to put it back together, but... I don't know if I can."

Things with Clay are shit and the club can't see fucking straight with how hard ZObelle is coming at him. At the end of the day, all he wants is his wife.

Maybe it's pity, or she believes him as she looks him directly in the eyes. "I know."

He can feel the tears building. His throat is getting thick with emotions. "I just feel so far away from you now." He reveals. "I know that's my fault." He admits and takes the blame. "Please, just tell me, how do I get back?"

Alma closes her eyes and she turns her head from him. She shakes her head. "I don't know if you can."

Jax can feel his heart breaking. He can feel this is the end of his marriage. "Babe... please let me back in." He begs.

Alma opens her mouth, but the phone cuts her off.

"Ignore it."

She doesn't listen as she goes to the landline. Her back is turned, but he notices she becomes tenser than before. He becomes confused when she ends the call mentioning Hale's name.

"What is it?"

"There was a fire at Cara Cara."

"This is a lovely house." Stahl tells Alma as they wait for Jax to arrive. Coming back from the grocery store with the kids, the last thing Alma expected was for Agent Stahl to be on her doorstep. Alma had quickly told the kids to play outside while Alma told Jax he needed to come home immediately. So now she is entertaining the ATF agent who is making herself comfortable on her couch.

"Thanks," Alma says briskly as she darts her eyes between Stahl and her kids.

"I'm also sorry to hear about Luann."

"No, you're not." Alma fires back. "If you were you would be looking for her killer."

"Unfortunately, my area of criteria is alcohol, firearms, and tobacco."

"Convenient, so why are you on my doorstep." Alma fire back.

"You're not like Gemma, are you?" Stahl muses. "I mean with the few meetings of your mother, you seem to take after her."

Alma rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you and my mother got along great."

"DIdn't have nice things to say about your father or your husband."

"Tell me something I already don't know."

Stahl's eyes light up in glee, but before she can say anything Jax is walking into the house.

"What's up? Text was vague." He asks before he spots Stahl. His jaw instantly hardens. "You got a warrant?"

"You see me searching?"

"I got nothing to say to you." Jax fires back before turning to Alma. "Where's the kids?"

"In the backyard."

"Look at you two." Stahl coos. "Ozzy and Harriet."

"Shut up." Alma snaps.

"Get out, now." Jax orders the federal agent.

Stahl's smile is sickening. "I was just curious, Jax. I just wanted to know why you were leaving SAMCRO."

That causes Alma's head to snap towards her husband. She can't hide the shock at that news.

Jax looks guilty as he looks down at Alma. "Give me a minute?"

Alma doesn't argue as she goes outside with the kids. Jax doesn't hide his wince as she slams the door.

"I'm sorry, I thought old ladies were privy. Has she got issues with the extracurricular?" Stahl says mockingly.

"Just say it."

"Same pitch. The Irish screwed you, so you screw them back. More importantly, you screw Ethan Zobelle. You even the score, you protect the MC."

"Same response. I don't rat." Jax replies.

"Sons are living in grace, sweetheart. You're not my target now. But if you don't help me, I will come after you." Stahl threatens.

"You know with Alma doing nails...does she have permit to practice? I'm curious on how a mechanic and nail technician can afford such a house especially with Kaylee's medical bills."

"You're so full of shit."

Stahl smiles. "It was nice talking to you Jax."

Jax doesn't leave his spot until he watches Stahl leave his house. He sighs and knows he is about to be in a world of shit. He moves to the sliding door and finds Alma sitting on one of the lounge couches watching the kids get dirty in the sand box.

Jax's feet have barely touched the deck when Alma speaks.

"What was she talking about?"

Jax slides the door closed and he sits next to his wife despite knowing he could be for some bodily danger. "I'm joining the nomad charter of the Sons."

"Did you conveniently forget you have two kids at home. You can't be heading up fucking north for church every week, Jax." Alma thinks she can throttle her husband. She wants to. She wants to scream, cry, and maybe get a few slaps out of him.

"I got to do this. I need space between me and Clay."

"Why?"

"I just need to do this." Jax tells her. He doesn't even know if he can explain how since his mom's car accident things have been different. The stress of Zobelle is eating at all of them. He knows it's best to take some space.

"I ride independently for a few years and wait for him to step down." He adds.

"A few years?" Alma scoffs. "We've barely made it through the last few months. You made this decision without me."

"Well what else am I supposed to do when you won't fucking talk to me."

"Do not put you going Nomad on me!" Alma hisses. "You don't tell me shit. You haven't since you came back...since Ben…" Alma gets choked up. Jax licks his lips because he is not even sure what he wants to say. Alma takes a breath. "I can't do this anymore."

Jax's brows furrow. "What?"

"I can't." Alma tells him as she stands up and moves to head back in the house.

"Al, wait," Jax tries to grab her hand, but she pulls away quickly leaving him all alone outside.

With a clubhouse full of visiting members and family, the kids are occupied and cared for. Alma decides to take a breather and walks down to Jax's dorm room where they are staying until things with Zobelle are handled.

A Lot has happened the last few days, which have been overwhelming. Alma isn't even sure how to digest a lot of what was told to her. The first truth to be revealed was the Gemma's car accident was in reality a rape. She was raped by a man name Weston, who happened to be Zobelle's right hand man. Gemma's attack was orchestrated by Zobelle along with the club being sent to prison, the burning of Cara Cara, and recent issues with the Irish. With that, the tension of Gemma's trauma and her relationship with Clay being affected led to Clay making decisions in the club that rubbed Jax wrong. It was the cause of the tension that made Jax want to go Nomad. Although none of that changed, her marriage and it's strain could be easily explained and fixed. Now the club is on lockdown as they have formed a plan to deal with Zobelle.

Alma walks out of the bathroom and is startled to find Jax sitting on the edge of the bed. He gives her a tight smile. The thing with Alma is she knows how to be an old lady. She knows where to play the part so no cracks can be seen. She knows that leads to a lot of false comfort mostly to Jax.

Her instinct is to stay standing by the desk but she moves over to the bed and sits on the edge.

"Everything okay?" She asks quietly.

Jax nods his head. "I love you, Alma. I know since I came home I haven't done my best to show you. I have to live with that consequence. When this is done...if you need me out the house. If you want to take the kids away for a bit, I'll do what you want me to."

Alma isn't sure how to respond. She isn't exactly sure what she wants. If anything in these past few months she has learned her life revolves around Jax. She isn't sure of who she is outside of her marriage.

"Do you want a divorce?" Jax asks her quietly.

"You know I would never keep the kids from you Jax." Alma promises. Despite the mistakes and hurt she and Jax make in their relationship that would be put aside for the sake of their children.

"No matter what, I'll always take care of you, Al." Jax promises and she knows he means it.

"Jax…" Alma isn't sure what to say and she doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing.

Jax stands up from the bed and moves to stand in front of her. His smile is sad and he bends down and places a kiss on her forehead. He walks away and out of the room and Alma tries to muffle the sobs that escape her throat.

Jax and the club are outside of a small deli as they watch Zobelle. Tig is working on getting people to leave the premises as quick as they can. They can't enact revenge with women, children, and innocents around.

Jax can feel the burning in his veins to get vengeance for his mother. Sure, killing Weston felt good. A weight lifted from his shoulders a bit, but the main objective is Zobelle. He is the mastermind behind everything.

After he handles this, he can work on his marriage. He can do everything he can to focus on mending his relationship with Alma. He hopes they can find their way back to each other. He can be a better husband, father, and man. He is pacing in front of the store, his eyes covered by his sunglasses when he feels his phone vibrating.

He looks at the ID and sees it's Alma.

She knows what today means and wouldn't be calling unless it was an emergency. He answers the phone and doesn't like the feeling that settles in his gut.

He can hear crying, screaming, and he swears an ambulance.

"Al, what's wrong?" He asks over the chaos on the end of her line.

Her broken sobs reach his ears. The phone falls out of his hand and Jax thinks he fell to his knees and maybe almost toppled his bike before the guys intervened.

"What is it?" Clay barks at him.

Jax is in a daze. Zobelle is forgotten as he gets to his bike. He has to get to St. Thomas.

"Kay...Kaylee's…" Jax can't finish the sentence. He doesn't even want to have it escape his lips. "I gotta go to St. Thomas."

#the unknown #soa fanfiction #soa #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax x oc

7 notes · View notes

the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

Note

Go wild. Who’s the werewolves? Why is Mitch missing? How are these related?

Yesss ilyyy <3

Alright so, it is angst time.

Stiles and Mitch are best friends, thick as thieves, right up to the point that Mitch goes missing. John does everything he can, the Sheriff’s Department investigating what could have happened while the town arranges search parties. The only thing they ever find of his, is the tattered remnants of bloodied clothes. They test the blood and it comes back a match, and Stiles is distraught. It crushes him. He’s about 14 so the grief over his mother’s death is still pretty fresh, and now this? It’s too much.

John doesn’t know what to do for Stiles. It’s awful seeing his baby so broken down and being able to do nothing. In the beginning, he promised Stiles he would do whatever it took to bring Mitch home, made that same promise to his family. And for a while, they all believed it. Because things like this aren’t supposed to happen in Beacon Hills. People move there because it’s a small, quiet town. It’s supposed to be safe. But it’s not. Days turn to weeks, and people stop searching. Weeks turn to months, and John feels like he’s failed.

They never find a body. There’s never any closure; just a pile of bloody clothes, and the most likely cause of death being a bear attack, and that’s just awful to think about.

Stiles tries not to give up hope. He wants to believe Mitch will come back to them someday. But at a certain point, hope hurts more than grief.

What none of them know is that Mitch was attacked by a feral werewolf while out for a run in the preserve one day. He used to run all the time, listening to music and counting down the miles, no big deal. Hunters were hot on the wolf’s trail when it attacked him; they killed it, and when they saw he was bitten, they decided not to let him go, just in case he turned. Sure enough he did, but rather than kill him, they decided to keep him. The hunters are of the sadistic Kate variety, ad figured they could get more fun out of him by keeping him alive.

It’s a year or so before Mitch finally escapes. Not through any means of his own; the hunters were killed by something or someone else, giving him the opportunity he needs. He’s weak, less than human, and all he can think about is getting away, somewhere they can’t hurt him anymore.

It takes Mitch weeks to find his way back to Beacon Hills in the form of a mangy, starved, barely alive wolf, guided by some instinct he can’t identify. But before he can get anywhere close to home, animal control is called. Luckily he’s misidentified as some kind of mutt, seeing as California isn’t supposed to have wolves. He’s skinny, small, and pitiful enough to pass off as a stray. So he’s taken to a vet to see to his many wounds and get him started on canine antibiotics, checked for a microchip which he doesn’t have, etc. As soon as hes somewhat healthy again he’s taken to the pound and left to rot.

Mitch isn’t very friendly, biting and snapping at anyone who comes close, because people aren’t safe. They poke and prod and burn and hurt, and he just wants to go home. None of the staff thinks he has much chance of getting adopted with his behavior, and so they leave him to rot in an out of the way cage in the back of the pound, to wait out his short period to get adopted before being euthanized.

And Mitch just... doesn’t have the strength to hope anymore. He escaped one cage onto to fall into another, and after everything he’s been through, he’s going to be killed by oblivious humans who have no idea they’re murdering a teenage boy in wolf’s clothing.

Then there’s Stiles, missing his best friend, lonely because his dad is gone at work all the time - it’s so hard to face Stiles when seeing his grief fills John with so much guilt - unable to stand the emptiness of the house because it doesn’t feel like a home anymore; he’s barely more than a host haunting it’s empty halls. He decided he wants a dog to keep him company. Someone to talk to, calm him down after yet another nightmare or panic attack.

He goes to the pound after school one day, wandering through the cages. He doesn’t really expect his dad to ever adopt a dog. Then he stumbles on one pitiful creature curled up on a filthy, thin blanket in the corner, looking like it’s already given up on life, and that’s exactly how Stiles feels, too. They’re a perfect match; two lonely, miserable creatures.

When Stiles crouches down in front of the cage and holds his hand out, the dog doesn’t come near. But it watches him, wary and curious, with its sad eyes that are just the right shade of brown to make Stiles want to cry.

Stiles asks an employee about the dog and gets brushed off, told that one’s dangerous and they can’t in good conscience give him away; he’s scheduled to be euthanized later that day.

Hearing that, Stiles is suddenly, irrationally, vehemently against letting them kill this poor dog. He has no idea what possesses him in that moment but he throws the biggest fit, absolutely willing to break the dog out if he has to. He calls his dad and says there’s an emergency and tells him to come to the pound, then begs John to adopt the dog.

It doesn’t take much to convince John. But then, Stiles doesn’t realize how he looks form John’s point of view; red-eyed and on the verge of tears, desperate, borderline manic to save this dog. The same way he looked when they found those bloody clothes in the woods. John can’t disappoint Stiles again. He can’t.

The shelter staff take more convincing. But John puts on the Stern Sheriff Face/Tone, makes them fold, and they get the dog. John drops them off at home since Stiles can’t drive yet, and Stiles gives him a bath.

At this point, Mitch isn’t really Mitch anymore. He’s a wolf, anything human that was left retreating to the recesses of his mind to escape everything the hunters did to him, letting the wolf take full control. He’s been ruled by instinct for so long, he couldn’t remember how to be human if he wanted to. And trust is a very human emotion, one that wolves aren’t prone to.

But Stiles is gentle and kind, and he smells familiar, and Mitch sticks to him all day. He smells like home, the closest to it Mitch has managed to get. Maybe this one, single human can be safe.

John comes home after his shift to find Stiles passed out on the couch clutching Mitch, who’s sleeping on top of him, and is grateful to have gotten the dog if it means Stiles will have someone with him again. He feels a pang of sympathy when Stiles tearfully says he’s named him Mitch; it hurts, but he responds, because the name is something else that sounds familiar even if he doesn’t know why, so it sticks. Stiles always sounds choked up the first few times he uses it. He can’t even remember the last time he said Mitch’s name.

Eventually, slowly, the longer Mitch is with Stiles, the more he feels safe with him, he starts to come back to himself. After a few weeks he’s not even close to okay. But Stiles has started opening up about his grief for the first time, telling Mitch all about his best friend who died last year. Telling him stories of the things they used to do together. Stiles doesn’t realize it, but he’s reminding Mitch of who he is. And he is so far from okay, but he’s okay enough to finally shift back to being human.

It hurts, the transformation is nothing graceful, his joints and bones popping and breaking and rearranging. The sudden sound and movement in the middle of the night wakes Stiles who, understandably, freaks out. There’s a small amount of screaming, quite a bit of crying, and a whole lot of hugging because Mitch is back. He’s alive.

The scream wakes John who comes in guns blazing, expecting something horrible, only to be met with a shell-shocked Mitch and sobbing Stiles, and none of them know what to do. But when Mitch realizes what happened, he kind of... crumples into Stiles, clutching him, not even caring that he’s naked, he’s just so relieved to finally be back to normal again. As close as he’ll ever get, anyway.

After a while Stiles calms down enough to give Mitch some space to get dressed; he doesn’t realize at first how much they’ve both changed when Stiles loans him some clothes, but they’re both taller than they were a year ago, and his limbs feel awkward and clumsy after spending so long as a wolf.

John can’t quite believe any of this is real, and the middle of the night isn’t the time to figure it out. Mitch and Stiles look like hell, and he needs a stiff drink, so they just... don’t talk about it, yet. They’re all too afraid that this isn’t real, so it can wait until morning.

(This is where I diverge from the original, because I had a better idea.)

When Mitch doesn’t disappear like some nightly apparition, John calls his mother. She comes rushing over, but it’s not the happy reunion she’d been hoping for. Mitch is there, but he’s not back, he’s not quite right. Some part of him recognizes his mom, but he can’t trust her, yet. It’s awful to have her baby so close, home after mourning him for so long, and have him reject her.

Mitch is practically glued to Stiles’ side the entire time, suspicious and wary. He doesn’t talk; Stiles doesn’t know if he can even remember how. Things get a little overwhelming and the last thing you want to do is back a wolf into a corner, so Mitch and Stiles retreat back to his room to calm down. That’s when Mitch’s mom finally breaks down, because she doesn’t know what to do. What happened to her boy?

John tries to comfort her, but he doesn’t have any of the answers, either. He doesn’t know what’s happened to Mitch in the past year, but he has noticed the suspiciously lack of Stiles’ dog in the house. It’s not something he wants to think about just yet. But eventually, they’re going to need to talk about it.

I’m not sure where they would go from there. Maybe John talks to Mitch’s mom and they agree to give him a few days to let him adjust; she comes over every day in hopes that he’ll get used to her again, and it slowly works. After a week or two, he has to go home; his room is exactly as he left it, slightly a mess with his homework half-done on the desk. The first night back home, he sneaks out after his mom goes to sleep, right back to Stiles. Stiles probably should be discouraging that, but he can’t; sue him, but he’s going to be clingy for a while, and Mitch feels exactly the same.

Maybe they work out a system where they just spend the weekends together; Stiles knows it’s not fair to Mitch’s family to take up all his time, even if that’s what Mitch seems to want. They love him too.

Mitch has to relearn how to human. Luckily it comes back pretty quick with all of them working on him. Stiles goes the professional route, doing all kinds of research into how to help Mitch recover (they probably try having him work with a couple psychologist, and he hates them all). Soon enough Mitch tells Stiles what happened to him. Not all of it, he doesn’t get into the nitty gritty details of how he was tortured for months on end. But the easier things, how he’s a werewolf, how he was captured by hunters, how he escaped and ended up in that shelter, he tells Stiles all of that.

And then it’s time for the full moon.

Disregard everything that happens after the parenthesis because I’m not sure how much I like it xD I am not wording very well today lol But yeah, that’s the whole thing! I was going to write a short summary, but I also really wanted to talk about it, so... “concise” is not a descriptor that would be applied to me lmao

I also just realized that this is kind of a bastardization of Malia’s storyline, which totally wasn’t my intention! But yeah. Mitch gets turned into a werewolf and goes missing, only to turn up a year later totally Fucked Up, and Stiles nurses him back to Health and Humanity. I LOVE the feral werewolf trope okay T_T

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chaoticnerdreview · 4 years

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Dare Me 10: The Beauty Of Knowledge

Apples, apples, apples. We’ve talked about them before but what is truly important has a way of coming back to you. And what’s rotten, well, it consumes you, sometimes slowly, until the end. Which is where we are, isn’t it? So for this season finale, we go all the way back to the beginning of time: to the Garden of Eden.

You see, in the story as old as time, Adam and Eve were warned to not eat the forbidden fruit - apples - from the Tree of Knowledge. While they looked scrumptious, eating them would go against the one simple request of the creator for it would open them up - and all mankind - to evil. Eating from the Tree of Knowledge would, besides granting them the power of information, it would also transform evil into a real thing rather than a concept looming in the far away horizon.

Unfortunately, Eve fell into the hypnotising lies of a charming snake. An animal so powerful it lured Eve, through her slow swaying and her silver tongue, into taking one apple of the tree. As if that’s what Eve truly desired. As if that transgression was everything Eve ever needed to be free. And lord, was the apple good. Enlightening. Enriching. Enticing. So good Eve had to share it with Adam yet he chocked on a bite of it. A lump stuck forever in mankind’s throat.

As promised, this choice had everlasting consequences and what could’ve been a happy story became a tragedy. In the season finale of our lovely little show, we are reminded that at some point in our lives,

(gif my the greatest of all time @klexacru)

COLETTE FRENCH AKA THE DECEIVING SNAKE

Would you look at that, if it isn’t the apple of our eyes. Colette French. The woman that searches for the missing pieces of her puzzle in other people. The woman who projects her ambitions in a teenager who still has all the chances in the world to succeed. The woman who needs to take and take and take to fulfil the empty void inside herself.

Colette knew exactly what her job meant for those girls. The importance of being the flag bearer for a group of girls in between growing pains. She was fully aware of what her love meant to Will. The importance of being gentle to his damaged soul beyond repair. She certainly had no doubts in her mind that she could do it all while balancing being a mother and a wife… Until she didn’t.

Just like the snake in the Garden of Eden, knowing she held all the power in her hands, she started shedding her cracked skin to reveal her true form. Little by little. Whispering in Addy's ear to move forward, push harder, become this and that. Weaselling her way into Addy's head - similarly to how she did with Will - and pulling the strings. Left, right. Good, bad. Shoot, detach. But the thing about Colette, as well as her snake counterpart, is that she forgot what happens after you eat the apple. After the knowledge reaches every part of your body, your soul. When that enlightenment happens, the lies that the snake spewed dissipate and that surely happened with Addy. That glass window separating the new freedom of Addy's mind and the forced closure of Colette's guilt metaphorically chattered between them to reveal the truth. And nothing else.

Colette French, once seen as the great liberator, was nothing more than the deceiving snake of Eden, locked behind a double glass, just like the snakes you can find at the zoo.

BETH CASSIDY AKA ADAM'S APPLE

At the beginning of our series, Beth was given to us as the epitome of beauty. The first born. The majestic creature that makes time slow down wherever she goes. We were introduced to her as if she was the chosen one, the cream of the crop. And yet, the more we found her, the more we saw she wasn’t so round after all. She has many corners, dark alleys and shadows.

But every inch of beauty she has, she harnessed the knowledge of it all. Perhaps even more than she should have. Because, from a young age, she saw what happens if you choose beauty. If you choose to fake your smile for someone else. If you choose vanity over truth. You become rotten and no matter what you use to hide that reality from others - as well as yourself - it’ll consume you. The same way it consumes her mother and the same way it suffocates her father.

Which means that, from the get go, Beth knew they were being surrounded by a snake. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck tingle whenever Colette was around. She could hear the sound of her silver tongue wrapping around all the lies she told. And she could see, like daggers through her heart, the damage she was doing to her best friend. Someone she thought had better judgement. Someone she thought would choose knowledge over beauty if faced with such a trial. But she was wrong.

And just like Adam, Beth took a bite of the apple Addy offered her. Not because she wanted power too but because she wanted to show Addy how rotten it truly was.

ADDY HANLON AKA HYPNOTISED EVE

Not everyone believes hypnosis is real. The idea of looking at a moving watch and a finger snap taking someone to another dimension doesn’t seem, logically, real. However, we have all fallen victims of hypnosis once or twice in our lives. We’ve already followed someone, blindly, into something they convinced us was what we wanted to do. Often so subtly that we don’t even notice what we’re doing until we are. Or until it’s already done. And Addy Hanlon, the smartest of the bunch, fell prey to that, to no fault of her own.

You see, Colette French was everything Addy needed to spice up her life. Successful woman, happily married, glorious house and in love with someone else that wasn’t afraid to love her back. Seemingly, she had everything. And if you throw in the filter that, in a way, Addy saw the best parts of the one she loves in Colette, it was far too easy for her brain to associate Colette with a person to follow. A way to go.

Sadly, the forbidden fruit that seems so enticing, the most beautiful of apples, it’s usually rotten on the inside. And Addy, after ignoring every red flag there ever was, saw the truth staring at her from a wall of glass. It took her biting deep into the apple to see the warms crawling inside. And then she knew. And then she saw. And then she remembered everything she ignored.

It wasn’t about the lack of warnings, no, it was about the thirst for knowledge. And, same as Eve, Addy’s was blinding enough to commit the most beautiful of sins.

HONORARY MENTIONS:

- Mother Hanlon, for leaving no stone unturned, even if that means finding her daughter’s bleached shoes hidden in the back of her closet.

- Mother Cassidy, for choosing beauty and yet having enough knowledge to show her daughter the right way, even if it smells like alcohol.

#dare me #beth cassidy #addy hanlon #colette french

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spinel-is-adorable · 5 years

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Beach City Funland

Okay so this is the first time I’m ever doing one of these and it turned out a lot longer than it was supposed too, so be gentle with me XD. I tried to keep it general neutral as possible. SPINEL X HUMAN READER 2,396 words If there was one thing you loved it was Beach City Funland, growing up in the small town didn’t give you much to explore as any place like the beach and downtown was already explored a million times over by you. But there was always one place that had something new every time you went, usually prizes would change out the most but sometimes new games or even rides would be put into the amusement park. When was the last time you had gone? It must have been a few years at least as when you grew up and got a job you didn’t have time for the ‘kid’ stuff anymore, heck the only reason you were even thinking about it was because Mr.Smiley had gone around giving fliers to businesses to hand out, one of which was one you worked at. There was going to be a half off day the upcoming weekend and you could just feel the kid in you screaming their lungs out-’I want to go!’. Biting your lip you bounced your foot against the floor as you thought it over, sure you had some work for the weekend but would one day really affect it? Your mind was buzzing with the possibilities only to be snapped out of it by a pair of arms twisting around your middle and a chin snuggling its way into the crook of your neck.

“Watcha looking at, doll?” A smile stretched on your lips as you glanced back at Spinel, your girlfriend of several months, “ Just a flier for Funland, I used to go there a lot as a kid.” “Funland? What's that?” “ Wait-you never heard of Funland?” Confused you pushed back against her causing the gem to unravel herself and step next to you. “Uh..no? Should I have?” You couldn't believe this, did Steven-did he not ever take her!? All this time she’s been on earth and he’s wanted her to get comfortable and he never-! “ I can’t-ohh! You know what forget what i was saying! I’m going to show you!” With your mind made up you hopped off the seat and pecked Spinel on the cheek before leaving the blushing gem to go and make some calls. It was a Saturday morning when you threw open the blinds to wake the groggy gem from her slumber, sure they didn’t need sleep but Spinel had become rather comfortable with it when she was next to you, “ Come on,Spinel! It’s time to get up!” A laugh as you tugged the blankets off her, she groaned but sat up with a tired smile. “ Geez, ya think you’d won a prize or somethin’ with how you’re acting.” The gem pulled herself out with yawn dragging herself to the bathroom to get herself ready. Obviously she didn’t need to do much more than brush her hair out but you took the time to get ready, pulling out an outfit that that was a little more cute than normal. Once Spinel finished with her hair she formed her own outfit consisting of a snapback hat with her pigtails down, a grey off the shoulder top, baggy black pants, spiked bracelets and some boots.“ Remind me again’ where we're goin’?” “ Funland! You’re going to love it! They got games and prizes and rides-” Suddenly another pair of lips were on yours cutting of your excited triad of words. After a few moments she pulled away with a smirk on her face, “ Okay okay I get it. You’re excited. Let's get goin’.” That pulled a giggle out of you as you lead her out of the house and down to the sidewalk, it was only about a fifteen minute walk from your home, no point in wasting gas. “ Two hundred tickets please!” Mr.Smiley smiled as wide as he could hearing the amount of tickets you wanted to purchase, the man always did like getting as much money as he could. Luckily he actually had a good track record of working products. “ Here you two go! Have a smiley day!” Stashing the tickets in your bag you pulled Spinel by the arm inside only stopping to take a good look around as it had been a few years, not much has changed. “ Okay so-we got a loooot of options. Which one do you wanna do first?” Showing her the map you couldn’t help but notice the grin on her face as Spinel seemed just as excited as you. “ The games!” And just as the queen decreed it, off you go! Keeping a good hold on Spinel’s hand to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowds of families and teenagers you two made it to the games area. Instantly you spotted a giant Alien plush toy that you absolutely had to have, you remembered Peridot carrying one around one time, though this one had an astronaut helmet on it. The green gem was going to be so jealous. Though as soon as you got close to it you realized the game was a ring toss game, a small whine escaped you. “ Oh-it's just this game is hard to win. Like super impossible. But I really want that toy.” The gem looked up to look at the alien hanging on a hook only to get a determined smirk on her face, without hesitation she slammed some tickets down on the counter startling the poor worker and yourself. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll get it for ya.” Your cheeks tinged pink as she was handed the rings, you knew this game was almost impossible to win but the thought of Spinel just trying to win it for you made your heart thump. The gem prepared her toss, sticking her tongue out (which you couldn’t help but giggle at) a moment and then-! It bounced off a bottle. “ What!?” Spinel shouted, disappointed that it didn’t seem as easy as she thought it would be, you patted her on the back. “ I told you, it’s okay you know it's just a toy.” “ But you wanted it...I still got some rings left.” It seems she wasn’t going to give it up that easily, she continued but only managed to get about three points before all her rings where gone. The gem stomped her foot and let out a sigh of frustration. “ This game is rigged!” “ I told you.” You smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder and leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek, hoping to calm her down some. It seemed to do the trick as she stopped hunching her shoulders and crossed her arms with a huff. “ It’s okay, thanks for trying. You want to play something else?” The gem didn’t respond for a moment, seemingly thinking of something before she spoke, “ Nah,hold on.” Spinel took out some more tickets and again handed it to the worker, curious you watched as she took up the position ...and one of her arms began to stretch underneath the counter. Oh no. “Spinel!” you hissed in a hushed whisper but it was too late as the worker suddenly had his chair fall out from underneath him and Spinel’s other arm moved in a flash quickly placing ten rings on ten bottles. “ Hey. I won.” The worker looked confused as he picked himself up only to see the ten rings, he looked back to the gem and the game a few times before he shrugged and pulled down the alien from the top prize rack. “ Congratulations, treat the little guy with care.” Either he didn’t care or he really didn’t have much going on in his head-either way Spinel handed off the plush toy to you and wrapped her arm around your waist to lead you away. “ Spinel! That wasn’t right-you’re so bad!” You were trying to scold her but the smile and the giggles told the gem a different story. “ Saids the one giggling their butt off!” The two of you shared a laugh as you walked with no guilt whatsoever between you two.After a few more games Spinel had spotted a ride you had rather fond memories of, the bumper cars! You explained to her what it was and how it worked, giving her a moment to watch others so she could decide, it didn’t take long for her to bounce on her feet and pull you by the wrist to the line. Once you two were in the cars the operator quickly went over the rules before turning the ride on and letting the riders loose. You wasted no time in giving Spinel a bump with the car, the gem laughing and swearing vengeance on you as you rode off to bump some other kid. It took her a few tries but she eventually managed to bump you head on, making you jerk and swear, the gem’s smile dropped, “ You okay there?” “ Yeah yeah i'm fine! Don’t worry about me. You’re supposed to do that!” Laughing you backed up only to ram back into her before peeling off in another direction, you two eventually got separated by the others. A group of teens have seemed to begin working together in a line to ram into as many people as possible, only breaking off when others were too much for them. One had set their eyes on Spinel-Sour Cream. Oh had you known the boy, he often visited the music shop for new tracks every week. A sweet kid. But now with that grin on his face you couldn’t help but feel protective as you swerved to intersect him just before he rammed into Spinel. You laughed as you blocked him,“ You think I’m going to let you do that, kid? Think again!” The boy laughed and backed up trying to get away from both you and now Spinel, his team of Jenny and Buck joining him hoping to over power the two of you. But before anything could really be done all the cars had stopped as the operator called the session to the close. Everyone, including you two, groaned and slowly got out of their cars. The teens gave you both some high fives and a few laughs of, “ We’ll get you next time!” and “ You won't be so lucky!” You don’t think you’ve ever seen Spinel so happy. Soon the day had turned into twilight which had turned into a night full of shining stars, Funland had maybe only an hour and a half left before it was time to close. You and Spinel had done most things in the park such as ride the coasters and playing more of the games, even meeting the teens once again and trying to see who could balance on the rope ladder. None of you could. But if there was one thing you wanted to do more than anything it was…“ Let’s ride the Carousel.” “ Maats hat?” Spinel asked, the question muffled by the cotton candy in her mouth, once she managed to swallow it, “ Sorry-whats a car-ouusel?” “ A carousel. It’s a ride. Come on!” Tugging her hand you jogged over to the large contraption, most families had gone home at this point meaning that no one was currently riding it. The ride had cost you the remaining tickets but neither of you seemed to mind, after a whole day of doing nothing but playing it was safe to say that this would be the last thing to do for the night. Spinel looked over the ride curiously as she stepped on with you, the horses were decorated with fringe and pastel colors. The ride also had some benches and other odd animals such as a zebra and even a shark. “ So what’s this ride do?” The two of you had chosen to sit on some horses, the gem easily able to stretch herself up while it took you a good moment. All your toys on a bench seat behind you. “ You’ll see, you’re going to love it I promise!” Spinel seemed satisfied with that answer but after another few moments the ride still hasn’t moved she began to wonder if anything-” Whoa!” Suddenly the ride began to move and the horse began to slowly move up and down as they began to spin in a circle. Spinel had gripped the pole tighter, surprised for a moment before your giggles brought her eyes to you. Usually you’re smile was nice to see for her, something she loved to bring out of you. But the smile you had on right now was nothing compared to what she usually saw. It was the most beautiful thing Spinel’s ever seen. “ So-do you like it?” “ What?” A sputter before she righted herself and sat up straight letting her strong grip lesson on the pole as she was torn from her thoughts, “ Oh! Yeah yeah I do! You humans make such fun stuff!” They never had anything like this on home-world, not that she saw when she was with the Diamonds anyway. The two of you grew quiet for a moment as you both enjoyed the moment, the spinning ride, the shining stars in the sky and the cool air of the night. “ You know..I’m glad you agreed to come along. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I’m glad I got to see it again with you.” You spoke quietly, your eyes on Spinel with that same beautiful smile you still had. The gem turned pinker and rubbed the back of her neck, a little embarrassed at the affection, “ Aw shucks..anything for you, Doll”. Moving your foot into a better position you pulled yourself partly off the horse to lean closer to the gem, her breath hitching before she too leaned forward and met you in the middle. The kiss was short but felt like a lifetime before you parted, looking into each others eyes lovingly as the ride slowed to a stop. The two of you hopped off and gathered your things, leaving Beach City FunLand hand in hand and closer than when you arrived. “ Can we come back again tomorrow?” “Hmm..not tomorrow but maybe next weekend.” “ I can’t wait.”

#spinel #spinel x reader #spinel su #spinel imagines

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friendlytikek · 5 years

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Dadding Together (1/1)

On AO3.

Summary: Not all dad jokes are a good idea, no matter how moody your teenager is.

Nobody ever told Charles that turning fifteen activated a magical switch in a teenager’s brain which transformed them into the grumpiest, most sarcastic, savage little beasts. Lorna’s only been fifteen for two months, and he’s certain all his hair is going to be grey before the third month is out.

“You know you can’t use your powers on other students, especially not on ones who aren’t mutants,” he tells her, once they’re in the house and Nina has been set down on the floor to play. He can hardly believe it. In all the years he’s known Lorna, she’s never had to be picked up from school for misbehaving. Now, back home, she’s apparently determined to continue her streak of trouble.

“Whatever. She started it,” Lorna says, staring down at her phone and flipping her green hair over her shoulder. It’s a line Charles has heard before, thanks to having five children. “I’m going to my room,” she announces, turning on her heel and heading straight for the stairs.

“No, you are not,” Charles says firmly, quickly wheeling himself into her path. Lorna almost walks into him, stopping just short of doing so, and raises her eyes from her phone, glaring. “You tripped over another student by making a pipe bulge through the floor and caused property damage to your school in the process. That can’t go unpunished. Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand expectantly. “You’re grounded for a month and your pocket money for the next six months is going towards paying for the damage.”

Already, Lorna’s mouth is gaping open. “You can’t do that!” she shouts, holding her phone well out of reach. “She didn’t even get hurt! Everyone’s overreacting, this is so unfair!” And to emphasise her point, she stamps her foot.

“Give me your phone,” Charles repeats calmly. “It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t hurt. The point is, she could’ve been, and you should not be using your powers to potentially harm others and definitely not to damage your school building.”

Lorna continues to glare, and Charles can pinpoint the exact moment she decides she’s not going down without a fight. The determination settles in her mind and she draws herself up to her full height, squaring her shoulders, looking like her father’s twin. “You aren’t taking my phone. I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my dad.”

There’s no denying it; the words hurt, and Charles rolls his chair back slightly to process them. When he married Erik, when Lorna was a few months shy of turning three, they filed adoption paperwork, with no protests from Susanna. Legally, if not biologically, Charles is supposed to be as much her dad as Erik.

Swallowing hard, he sets his jaw. “Fine,” he says quietly. “We’ll see what your father has to say about this when he’s home.”

“Fine,” Lorna snaps back and with that, she flounces off upstairs, phone held triumphantly in hand. A few moments later, he hears her bedroom door slam.

Biting back hurt and anger, Charles turns back to Nina, who’s happily scribbling a drawing on a piece of paper. He clears his throat to try and dislodge the lump that’s formed there. “What are you drawing, sweetheart?” he asks, making his way over to her. She chatters excitedly about her drawing, the way a two-and-a-half-year-old does, and he transfers himself down onto the floor to help her with some of the details.

He knows, deep down, Lorna didn’t mean it, but that doesn’t really make it hurt any less.

.x.x.x.

Predictably, Erik takes his side. Even though he advocates for their kids using their powers in a serious fight (“Use whatever advantage you have to win!”), he agrees it’s wrong to damage the school building and to trip someone up over something as trivial as an argument about boys.

Lorna gets grounded, her phone is confiscated, and she doesn’t fight Erik about any of it.

“You know she didn’t mean the dad thing,” Erik says later that night, after Charles explains exactly what happened. They’re lying in bed, ready to fall asleep. “She’s a teenager. They say stupid things all the time.”

Even though Charles knows it’s true, the hurt doesn’t quite fade away.

.x.x.x.

Grocery shopping with Erik and five children is a pain and Charles knows he really should start doing it during the week, when he only has Nina’s desires (and, okay, yes, his own) to contend with and everyone else is at work and school.

“Can we get chocolate?”

“I want popcorn!”

“I scream!”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Can we get this?”

Charles stares at Erik in exasperation as he holds up a Stormtrooper helmet. He doesn’t even know how he managed to find it on the cereal aisle. “Erik, as much as I’d like to buy that, I’d actually much prefer it if you could help me wrangle our five kids, so we all survive this shopping trip,” he tells him.

Chuckling, Erik puts the helmet back down on a shelf. Someone, at least, knows when not to push for something they don’t need. Charles breathes a slight sigh of relief.

In response, Nina bangs her hands on the handlebar of the trolley again. “I scream!” she repeats, kicking her feet.

“Daaaaaad, I want this chocolate!” Pietro whines, almost immediately afterwards. Someone has clearly zoomed ahead to the candy aisle while his dads blinked.

“Chocolate and popcorn!” David shouts, and it’s not fair, because David, their six-year-old who’s rapidly approaching seven, is usually the quietest of the lot. They’ve hit the jackpot today.

Charles is fairly certain kids don’t really need food to survive. They could probably all go home right now. He raises his fingertips to his temples and rubs a few circles, already able to feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

At least Wanda is behaving, but even she tugs on Erik’s sleeve, to ask again, “What’s for dinner?”

“We’ll decide soon, Liebling,” Erik assures her.

There’s a heavy sigh from behind them, and Charles is rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. “What is it, Lorna?” he asks, as politely as he can, turning around to face her. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Erik looking at him, and his husband pushes thought of warning towards him.

“This is boring,” Lorna huffs, throwing her hands up in the air. “I need my phone.”

“You do not need your phone,” Charles says, as patiently as he can. “You will not be having your phone back until Monday morning, before you go to school, and you’ll be giving it back to us as soon as you get back. You know why.”

There’s a groan of frustration from Lorna, and she folds her arms across her chest, glaring at the nearest shelf.

Charles hopes that’s going to be the end of it.

(It is not.)

The kids continue to ask for things all the way around the store. They all know they’re only allowed one treat per shopping trip, but they’re pushing their luck today. Money isn’t an issue, but Charles is determined not to spoil them.

And Lorna mopes and drags her feet the entire time.

“I’m hungry,” she complains, when they’re finally on their way to the checkout line.

Charles takes a deep breath, ready to remind her they always decide on lunch when they’re in the car, but instead, something floats into his mind. He grabs it, and rolls with it. It’s one of his funnier dad jokes, he thinks, before he’s had chance to actually think it through.

“Hi Hungry, I’m not your dad.”

The reaction is instantaneous. Pietro howls with laughter, which in turn makes Nina giggle and David laughs nervously too. There’s an audible gasp from Wanda, while Lorna’s face has gone white and her mouth has dropped open in shock. Erik is covering his face with his hand.

Once everyone’s recovered, Erik sighs, lowers his hand, and gestures to the youngest ones in their brood, except for Nina, who is still sitting in the trolley. “Take these three and wait outside, Charles,” he says. “Lorna and I will deal with the shopping.” You didn’t have to sink to her level, he thinks, You know she didn’t mean it.

When Lorna doesn’t complain about the suggestion, Charles realises he actually has hit a nerve. Hurt radiates from Lorna’s mind, and she stares down at her feet. Guilt begins to swirl in his stomach, and he goes to open his mouth, intending to apologise, but Erik shoots him another look and nods his head in the direction of the doors.

Charles shepherds Wanda, Pietro, and David out of the store, and they wait just outside of the doors. The car is quite close, in an accessible bay, but he doesn’t like to sit in a stationary car for too long, not since the incident which left him paralysed, ten years ago now.

Eventually, Erik, Lorna, and Nina appear, bags full of shopping now in the trolley. They all pile into the minivan and Lorna still doesn’t say a word to Charles.

It’s safe to say, it’s a very awkward drive home, even with the younger kids chattering away. Lunch ends up being a rather sad pile of sandwiches.

.x.x.x.

Throughout dinner, Charles and Erik have a mental conversation about whether it’s right to stoop down to the same level as their kids. It consists of multiple reminders that Erik has dropped some bigger goofs in the almost fourteen years they’ve been together, but eventually, Erik winds up winning with a simple point.

We chose all our kids, together, he says, Except Lorna. Of course she’s going to be a little sensitive. I think maybe she thinks you feel ‘stuck’ with her because you married me.

But that’s not true at all, Charles thinks back, shocked. He might be a telepath, but he isn’t the best at always understanding what his kids are feeling. I love her. She’s my daughter.

Erik shoots him a look, but it’s followed with a soft smile. Go remind her of that, then, you complete and utter dad.

That’s when Charles realises that, at some point during their engaging mental discussion, Lorna has excused herself from the table. He sighs and makes short work of the rest of his dinner, then excuses himself, too, and heads upstairs to Lorna’s room.

When he reaches her room, he steels himself and knocks twice on the closed door. “Lorna? It’s your dad,” he says.

There’s a long silence from inside the room. Charles does his best not to peek into Lorna’s mind, giving her the privacy she seems to want right now. Finally, after what feels like forever but is likely no more than thirty seconds, there comes a quiet, “I know. Come in, Dad.”

Of course, she probably sensed the wheelchair and the elevator rising to the second floor. With some trepidation, he pushes open the bedroom door and enters. Lorna moves from being curled on her side, to sitting upright on the edge of the bed. Swallowing, Charles approaches, and they look up at each when he comes to a stop.

“I’m really sorry,” they both blurt at the same time, before blinking at each other in surprise. Then they give each other tentative smiles, and Charles reaches to take her hands between his, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “That was a stupid joke I told, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m supposed to be the adult here.”

“Dad,” Lorna starts, but Charles isn’t finished by a longshot, so he squeezes her hands again.

“Let me finish,” Charles says quietly, looking at her pleadingly. “You’re always going to be my daughter, even if I didn’t adopt you under the same circumstances as your siblings. I’ve still been through all the same things with you as I have with them. Potty training. Stomach bugs. Setting money aside for a college fund. You don’t have to call me dad, if you’d rather not, but I’m always going to see you as my daughter.”

Lorna’s eyes are visibly wet, and Charles worries he’s said the wrong thing again, but then she chokes out, “Of course you’re my dad. You’ll always be my dad.”

The relief is almost overwhelming, and Charles goes to speak again but before he can, Lorna is on her feet and throwing her arms around him. His wheelchair almost topples, and he can feel Lorna quickly securing it with her powers before her grip around him tightens and she buries her face in his shoulder. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but they make it work, and Charles’ arms go around her, too.

They stay like that for a long time, and Charles wouldn’t have it any other way.

.x.x.x.

“I told you she didn’t mean it,” Erik says, when they’re in bed that night, and he’s curled up around Charles.

“I knew she didn’t mean it,” Charles tells him. “It still hurt. I could’ve handled it better,” he admits.

“You could’ve,” Erik agrees. “But it’s over with now. You handled it well in the end.”

Charles hums his agreement. “We aren’t all that bad at this ‘dadding’ thing,” he says, casually. The follow-up is, by now, anticipated: “Maybe we should have one more.”

There’s a chuckle from behind him. “Go to sleep, Charles. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

#cherik #cherik fanfiction #my writing

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