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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

Text

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day.

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams.

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . . he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden.

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait.

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass.

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh.

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own.

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem.

His real fucking problem is Nick.

Your boyfriend.

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair.

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is.

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.”

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really.

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care.

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line.

Never a good idea with Benny Miller.

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road.

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks.

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight.

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie.

Don’t, man, just don’t.

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out.

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers.

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction.

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you.

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back.

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier.

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet.

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet.

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest.

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.”

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now.

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world.

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all.

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one.

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart.

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar.

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night.

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker.

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system.

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you?

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch.

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning.

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail.

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play.

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami.

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language.

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall.

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding.

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion.

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy.

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on.

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart.

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor.

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes.

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on.

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.”

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off.

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal?

Do you want to–

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags.

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.”

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail?

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees.

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another.

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.”

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle.

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude.

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes.

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover.

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold.

“How do you feel about conchas?”

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #pedro pascal characters

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chosopie · 1 month

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FLUNK OR FUCK - SATORU GOJO

Gojo was the popular kid in college who often attended frat parties and was known for his pretty face and athletic abilities. He had numerous girls up on his shit who would desperately beg him for a chance, but no. His eyes were set on you.

A lot of people didn’t understand why he was so fixated on someone like you. You were a STEM girl—the complete opposite of him. You two came from different crowds that didn’t get along.

Gojo was tempting. You couldn’t deny the fact that he was hot. He had a nice toned figure and angelic facial features. It was like he was sculpted by the gods and descended straight from Olympus. You had nothing against dating him, but you had standards. The kind of man you wanted was someone who was responsible and intellectual. You couldn’t stand the thought of being with a guy who had shits for brains.

“Y/N! What could I possibly do to make you date me?” He whined into your ear. He had been pestering you for 45 minutes now while you were busy summarizing your notes for tomorrow’s upcoming math test.

“Please, just one chance!”

“Ugh,” you groaned, finally turning away from your notebook. “One condition.”

“Anything!” He exclaimed.

“Pass tomorrow’s math test and I’ll let you hit,” you proposed.

“Too easy! It’s just basic math,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes. “Good luck.”

It was the day of the test. Gojo was comfortably sat on his chair with his legs crossed, his mind thinking about how close he was to getting some pussy—yours, which made it even more exciting. The professor started distributing the papers to the students in the front row. After all the papers had been given to those students, they started passing the papers backwards. You were one of those students in the front and as expected, you were already leaning over, your back slouched and your forehead close to touching your table while you started solving the problems.

Gojo looked at his paper, carefully analyzing the first equation.

“This ain’t so bad. Y/N taught me this. You just gotta use that one formula,” he thought.

Done. Next problem.

This one wasn’t a challenge either since it was relatively similar to the first problem. Gojo triumphantly smirked and started writing his answers.

Next.

“Guys, what the fuck is that…” he mumbled to himself, his hands clutching his hair. “I’m fucking cooked.”

“Do better.” The professor sighed as he handed Gojo his paper.

“Don’t play with me like that,” Gojo nervously laughed. He had to have passed, right? He answered most of the questions. It was just that one question he left blank.

11/30.

The red writing on the top right of the paper stared at him.

“Gojo!” You called, walking over to his seat. He was slouching, quickly putting his paper away the moment he heard your voice.

“What’s your score?” You asked.

There was no response.

“Gojo?” You worriedly asked, then you looked at his stiff face. “So, you failed?”

“Please. Pussy….” he softly pleaded.

“Seriously? That’s the last thing you should be worried about right now,” you sighed, rubbing his back. You suddenly heard sniffles.

“Fine! For fuck’s sake, Gojo! Just come by my apartment at 5 and we could fuck. I’ll teach you too so you better pass the next test.”

“Thank you,” his voice quivered. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

: ̗̀➛ part 2

#rev.writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo satoru

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theemporium · 3 months

Note

Honey, I’m so so sorry. But it happens to every artist at some point.

I had a smallest idea, Lando and his girl workinv on her gag reflex, doing some training 🥵🥵

And he’s trying to be sweet and caring BUT his dominant side takes over for a moment or two???

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

As stupid as it sounded—and trust me, he knew how it sounded—Lando thought the determination in your eyes might’ve been the hottest thing about the situation.

Not the fact his cock was down your throat.

But, fuck, it drove him fucking crazy. It drove him crazy when you walked into the living room, brows furrowed and lips pursed like you already had a game plan. It drove him crazy when you told him to take his sweatpants off, zero explanation or context given. It drove him crazy when you kneeled down on the carpet before him and pressed the palm of your heel against the bulge in his boxers.

Now, Lando wasn’t stupid or oblivious. He was big. He knew he was big. He was fucking cocky about it. And truthfully, he didn’t really care about his size—at least, not in the way you seemed to. If anything, there was almost a shot of pure, ego-stroking cockiness that flashed through him when past partners had failed to take all of him in their mouths.

Lando didn’t even think you had an issue with it. He certainly didn’t. Fuck, to him, it never mattered if it was just the tip or half his cock, your mouth just felt heavenly and drove him to the edge every single time in minutes.

But something had tipped you over the edge. Something had made you determined. Something had made you want to take Lando’s cock down your throat, every single fucking inch like it was a challenge you were going to complete no matter what.

And that fucking ambition might have him coming and ruining your whole challenge in seconds with the way you were looking up at him, eyes wide and glossy and so fucking adamant that it made his breath hitch.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted breathlessly, slumped back against the couch as your tongue ran over the slit on his tip. “Shit, baby, I’m already hard. Can’t keep pulling tricks like that if you want me to last.”

Your hand continued to pump the rest of his length as you pulled off, grinning at him with those red and swollen lips. “But I like the sounds you make.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck.”

“Can’t wait to hear what noises you made when your cock is down my throat,” you continued, pressing light kisses along the length of his dick that left his hips bucking into your hand. “Can’t wait to feel how full you make me.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” he breathed out, muttered out with a soft cry as you licked a long strip from his balls to his tip.

“You say that like you don’t want it just as bad,” you retorted, flashing him an innocent smile that he almost would have believed if it weren’t for the fact your chin was slick with drool and his precome.

“Of course I want it, baby,” he muttered as he reached his hand out, brushing his fingers along your cheek before his fingers raked through your hair and remained there. “Can’t fucking wait to feel that pretty mouth around my cock, feel you squeezing me tight.”

Your face heated at the desire burning in his eyes as he guided your mouth back to his cock. You followed without hesitation, obeying the silent command as your lips wrapped around him again.

“So fucking determined to be the first, hm? To be the one to take all of me,” he cooed, something about the smirk on his face making your thighs clench together as he began to control your movements, control the speed your head bobbed up and down. “Just wanna be good like those girls in those videos you think I don’t see you watching, huh?”

You let out a pathetic noise around his cock, something quite like a whimper that made him grin wider.

“My good girl wants to be like one of those fucking pornstars, huh?” Lando moaned as his hips jerked up, as those teary eyes stared up at him with such purpose. “Shit, baby, gonna let you practise until you’re so much better than them.”

You whined, your eyes fluttering shut as a soft gagging noise sounded through the room as his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Shhh, doing so well, baby,” he cooed, sounding almost patronising as you let him continue to fuck his hips up into your mouth. “Atta girl, baby, gonna be taking me all in no time.”

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year

Text

Pairing : Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : fighting ; Minho being a jerk ; angst ; fluffy at the end ; established relationship Word Count : 3.8k Request : i would like to know if you could please write something super angsty but with a fluff ending with him, could be a fight or maybe some bad things said in the heat of the moment, idk you choose, whatever you feel comfortable with. A/N : This took so long to get around to and I'm so sorry, but I finally finished it and I hope that you love it! It was a nice little change from what I've been working on right now. Thank you for loving my writing and supporting me, and I don't know if you remember saying it when you requested but you said you love me forever and always and the feeling is 100% mutual anon!!! Thank you so much!!

Things with Minho weren’t always perfect, no relationship ever was, but you liked to think that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the usual hurdles that most couples went through. For the most part, speed bumps would be smoothed over in a matter of minutes and arguments were more like the flame of a birthday candle, blown out within seconds of lighting it. You both loved each other, and that feeling was strong enough to get the both of you through even the toughest of days. You weren’t sure what was different about this time around, maybe it was the timing, or maybe it was just the fact that you both had gone through this kind of thing so many times that there was no more going around it. You both had to face it head on, and that was something that you never expected to do.

“Where are you going?” You asked when you saw him heading to the door with a suitcase. Nothing had happened, not yet at least, and the sight in front of you had your stomach sinking. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?” He had never given you a reason to feel like you had to walk on eggshells, but seeing him this way, like he was about to walk out on you, had you beyond nervous, beyond terrified.

“I’m not going anywhere, kitten.” He cooed, placing the bag down next to the door before walking over to you, his hands moving to your hips to hold you steady as he looked you in the eye. “We’re gonna be filming a new music video further out in the country and it’s gonna take a couple days. I’ll be staying at a hotel so I don’t have to keep driving back and forth every day. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before backing up, but his words and the sentiment behind the action weren’t as reassuring as you wanted them to be.

“Well… Why didn’t you tell me about it? I never heard about a new music video…” You said, the words coming out rather sharply, although you didn’t intend them to. “I mean… What if I didn’t catch you leaving? I’d just wake up and you’d be gone. Do you not care about how that would have made me feel?!”

He rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair as he glared at you, his eyes ice cold and sending a shiver down your spine. “Sometimes I forget to tell you things, my life is kind of busy Y/N. Sue me for it. My life doesn’t exactly revolve around you.” He snapped back, and you knew that he could be kind of harsh with his words, but you didn’t know the extent of it until now, and those words had never been targeted towards you until this moment. “You’re so far up my ass anyway, I thought you would have known about the music video already considering you’re always right fucking there.”

You swallowed thickly, a nervous chill running through you from being yelled at by the one person in your life that had never raised their voice at you at all before. You weren’t used to it, and you already felt the tears pricking your eyes as you stared at him. “I’m sorry that my way of loving you isn’t good enough, or if it’s a little too much for you. You should have let me know so that I didn’t get so attached.” You retorted, albeit far more quietly, your held back tears causing the words to come out sounding more choked off than anything.

“Yeah, maybe I should have. And maybe I didn’t tell you about my little trip because I didn’t want you to tag along. I need my own space.” He said, and you felt your stomach tighten up, your throat closing in, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep yourself from crying. If you continued with the argument you’d only break down, so you stayed silent, waiting to see if he had any more left to say. You were like his verbal punching bag, and maybe he was just really stressed out right now, but he was taking it all out on you, and everything that he was saying sounded like his genuine feelings. “I’ve wasted enough time on you… I need to go.” Was the last thing he said before walking out, not a goodbye uttered by either of you, just the tension filled silence that grew and filled the space between the both of you until he walked out the front door.

It was strange, how your mind was filled with so much, yet you couldn’t think of anything at all. You just stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the door that he had walked out of you don’t know how long ago now. Time seemed to stand still, everything was frozen, not even the sound of birds tweeting outside could be heard. It was like your entire world had stopped, and that’s when you realized that maybe he was right, what he had said wasn’t just nonsense said in a moment of anger or annoyance. It was the truth, it was the wake up call that you needed.

You were attached to him, far too attached and it wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest. Your world shouldn’t feel like it was crumbling just because of one argument, but it did, and the walls were caving in and the floor was sinking beneath your feet and you felt like you were going to be swallowed into the nothingness that would be your life without him. You had to do the both of you a favor, you had to get out of there, you had to give him the space that he very clearly needed, a space that you didn’t know you needed as well.

With your number dialed on his phone, his thumb hovered over the call button. You’d pick up, he knew that you would, but he was scared of what you’d say to him. He knew what he’d say to himself if he had been on the receiving end of his own words this morning. You had simply asked where he was going, and there was nothing wrong with that, he knew that. He would have felt the same sense of fear that you clearly felt if the roles were reversed. He was stressed, but that was no excuse for treating you that way, for acting the way he did.

“Guys… can you… can you be quiet for a moment?” He called out to the rest of his members that were foolishly goofing off behind him, not a care in the world, and while their voices softened just a bit, their antics continued. He’d never be able to talk to you, not like this, at least he wouldn’t be able to be relaxed during the conversation. He needed to apologize to you, and while a face to face apology would be better, a phone call was all that he was able to give you right now, and for that, he felt even worse.

His thumb pressed against the green button and he quickly brought the phone up to his ear, awaiting and expecting to hear your voice after the first ring. But the first ring came and went, leading into the second, and then the third, and it was so rare for such a thing to happen that he assumed he had just dialed the wrong number.

Now, something like that wasn’t likely to happen, not with him. Your number had been etched into his mind since the day he had gotten it from you, the dialing of the digits a muscle memory now. He had to find a reason for the lack of an answer though, and the only reason he could come up with was that maybe his finger had slipped, it had slipped just enough to press a wrong number, and that’s why your voice hadn’t come through his speaker to reassure him and calm his nerves.

He pressed out the numbers once more, slowly this time, focusing on his screen and reading back the digits at the top once they were all there just to make sure he was right this time around. “Come on…” He mumbled to himself as he heard the first ring sound out, fading off into silence just to be followed by the second ring. This never happened, you never ignored him, you always had your phone close enough to you to hear the special ringtone that you had given to just him. This had to mean that something was wrong, something happened, and his own stomach sank at the possibility, all of the things that could have happened. “I have to go guys.” He said, his words short as he walked right past them, not even bothering to give them an explanation as they all tried to follow behind him. He didn’t have time for explanations right now, but once he was sure that you were okay he’d tell them what had happened. You were his top priority right now, you were top priority always, no matter where he was or what he was doing, you were always number 1 in his mind.

His phone sat in the center console of the car as he started the drive back home, his eyes glancing down at it every couple seconds just to check if you were calling him back or if you had texted him to let him know that you had just been busy in the shower or something. Anything, he would have taken anything over the silence that he was receiving right now, and the longer it lasted the more worried he got. The little argument that the two of you had earlier that morning seemed like nothing to him, it didn’t even cross his mind that you’d be upset about it because he just assumed that you would know that he meant none of the words that came out of his mouth. There was just so much going on, the words were meaningless, and at the end of the day, he absolutely adored you, he loves you, you knew that.

The set for the music video was 2 hours away, and that was if there was no traffic at all, but of course, he had the luck of running into rush hour, and he had been stopped at every single red light, turning what would have been a 2 hour car ride into almost 4 hours and in that duration of time he had heard nothing from you, he hadn’t heard from you at all and by the time he pulled up to the apartment he was on the verge of having a full fledged panic attack.

His keys were almost left in the ignition of the car in his rush to get inside, and the only reason he remembered to grab them was because he needed to unlock the front door to get to you. No matter how fast he tried to move, it felt like his feet wouldn’t carry him any faster than the speed of a snail, and maybe it was some kind of internal hesitation, a fear that what would be on the other side of the door once he opened it, or better you, what might not be there.

“Y/N!” He called out your name, practically screaming it as he pushed the door open, the sound of the doorknob slamming against the wall breaking the silence of the shared home. As he looked around, everything seemed far too still, as if nothing had been touched, no one had moved inside these four walls for hours, and his breaths became faster as he stepped further into the apartment. It was quiet, too quiet, and he could only describe what he felt right now as being at the top of a 20 story building and standing on the edge looking straight down.

It was like he was frozen in the center of the room now, trying to find any sign of life, any sign of you being there, and he thought, maybe if he looked around enough, maybe if he did a couple double takes something would come up, but all he was met with was nothing. There was no heat that clung to the LCD screen of the television after having been on for a little bit too long. There was no scent of laundry detergent in the air that would alert him that you had clothes going. The hum of the dishwasher wasn’t heard as it usually would be when he came home, and there was no sound of water running through pipes that would indicate you were in the shower. Everything about the house right now felt empty.

Why did an empty house feel so claustrophobic? The walls were closing in on him, he couldn’t breathe and all he wanted was to push them back, and the only thing that would allow him to take a deep breath was finally seeing you. Where were you? If you had only gone out for groceries, the house wouldn’t feel like this. There was some sort of resting stillness, a sense of finality in the emptiness, it felt like it would be like this forever, and he didn’t understand why.

He hadn’t stepped any further into the home, dread filling every bone and taking over every fiber of his being at the mere thought of taking another step. Was it a good thing that he hadn’t? The doorknob jiggled and the sound of keys rattling on the other side had his head whipping around to see you walking in. “Minho…” You whispered his name, freezing in the doorframe. Your arms and your hands were empty, you hadn’t gone grocery shopping… So where have you been? “I didn’t think you’d be here. I’m sorry…” Why were you apologizing? “I just forgot a few things… I’ll be out soon.” Your tone was hushed as you made a move to step past him, but his arm instinctively reached out to grab you, to feel your skin against the palm of his hands, to stop you from walking away from him.

“What do you mean you’ll be out soon? Where are you going?” His tone was hushed as he looked at you, but you didn’t even meet his eyes, staring down at the floor as if you didn’t want to see him. “You didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t text me… What’s going on? Is something wrong, did something happen?” There was a soft sound that came through your lips, and it sounded like a scoff, but he couldn’t be quite sure. You were acting so distant, it scared him, you had never been like this before.

“I was just trying to give you what you needed…” You mumbled, and he could hear it in your voice, in your tone, in every syllable of every word that he couldn’t seem to understand the meaning of. You had been crying, you were devastated, and the only thing that he could manage to get out of the vague sentence was that it had been his fault.

You tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t want to let you go, he couldn’t, not until he knew that things were okay. If he let go now, he was scared that you’d walk away from him, walk out on him, and he knew that his heart wouldn’t be able to handle that. “What do you mean…? I need you. I don’t know where this is coming from, love… I just… I know that we had that little spat this morning but… It was nothing.”

At his words, your eyes finally lifted from the floor, the whites of them reddened and the skin underneath puffy and raw. “It was… nothing?” You repeated his words questioningly, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, he could see your eyes waver as you looked around the room. “Was it nothing because… you didn’t get hurt? Because you got to walk out after completely breaking me down and making me feel like shit? You make me feel like my love isn’t good enough, or that it’s way too much… And then you get to just come back in here and say that it was nothing?”

Clearly what he had thought to be a little spat had been so much more to you, and while the both of you usually didn’t like to dwell on arguments, this one had stuck with you, it had bothered you enough to the point that you were seemingly on the verge of walking out, of leaving him. “I-...” Where was he going to go with that sentence? He didn’t even know, but he was so scared, so so scared that you’d try to pull away again, that it would be the last time you’d ever pull away from him. “I was stressed… I didn’t mean any of that, you know I didn’t… You don’t really think that I think of you like that, do you?”

But surely you did… Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be acting this way… You wouldn’t be so upset… “You’re the only one who gets stressed… Sure, we’ll go with that.” You mumbled, letting your arm drop limply, aware now that he wasn’t going to let go of you, not that easily at least. “You said you wanted space, and that’s what I’m giving you. If you’re so stressed… If that’s what made you say that, then I don’t want to be around you anyway.”

What was he supposed to even say now? You were using his words against him, words that he had tried all morning to forget that he had said, but you didn’t forget, you never did. His eyes squeezed shut as if the answers to his question would appear on the insides of his eyelids, but all he saw was darkness, which was exactly what his life would be without you in it if he didn’t fix things. “I’m not… I don’t want space. I want you here with me, I want you to cling to me, I need it.” He was breathless, his breaths coming heavily as if he had just ran a marathon, and he was surely sweating as though he had as well. There was nothing more stressful than what he was going through right now.

“Why? So you can go right back out the door again and leave me here feeling more confused than I was this morning?” You shook your head, but he mirrored the action only double the speed as his eyes went wide, pulling you closer to him until your chest was pressed against his, and his forehead resting against yours. “Minho…” You gasped out his name in one short breath, all others that were supposed to follow were held in your lungs.

“If I walk out that door again… I don’t want to do it alone. I want you right beside me, love.” He quickly spoke, feeling as though time were slipping from his hands the longer he made you wait, he needed to speak fast, he needed to get all of his feelings out so that you knew he was being serious. “I want you to come with me to the shoot, I want you to be there to watch us film, I want to feel your eyes on me the entire time.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, your eyes staring down at the faded pattern of his t-shirt that had been through the wash way too many times. “What if I don’t want to…? What if I need space?” You quizzed and his heart felt constricted, his breaths sharper now as he thought and assumed a deeper meaning to your words. Why would you say that? Did you just want space so that he could come back home and you not be there? What was the reason behind it?

“No.” He said flatly, causing your head to pull back so you could look up at him with narrowed eyes. He didn’t mean to sound so short with you, but it was the only word he could think to say when everything felt like it was being stacked against him. “Please… I’m sorry…” He wasn’t the type of person that wore his heart on his sleeve, not at all, and his emotions were usually bottled up quite well, but right now it felt like the bottle had been shaken and it was bubbling over, making a mess of the table and the floors. “If you… If you need space, fine… But come with me. You can have space… I just don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to be away from you. Please…”

Begging definitely wasn’t his thing, but he’d be damned if he lost you because his pride was too high. He was willing to do anything to make things right, especially since it had been his words that had messed things up in the first place. He had made the mess and it was his job to clean it up. “You’re so confusing, Minho…” You sighed, letting your head drop back down against his chest as his hand came up to pet through your hair.

“I know, I’m gonna work on that, I promise.” His chest vibrated, but what you assumed to be laughter that you weakly chuckled along with were the stuttered breaths that he had been holding for so long it felt like his lungs would burst. “I love you, and I need you, I’ll always feel that way. If I ever say anything stupid like that again just… call me an idiot and throw a pillow at me or something. I don’t ever want you to feel like your love is too much… I need it. I’ll die without it.”

You scoffed as you lightly pushed him back, crinkling your nose at him. “You’re so dramatic. You’ve been hanging with Hyunjin a little too much, haven’t you?” You teased, but he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed with the comment, he was just happy to see you playing around, to see your smile again, to know that you weren’t going to leave him.

The two of you belonged together, he felt it in his bones, in his heart and in his soul. There was no one else in this world that he’d rather be with, and if it wasn’t you, he wouldn’t settle for anyone else. He needed you, that much was the honest truth, and while he wouldn’t actually die without you, he’d be much better off that way if he didn’t have you. You were his, and sure, you were attached to him, but he was attached to you, and that’s simply because he wouldn’t be himself without you, and you wouldn’t be you without him. You were each others better halves, and that’s how it always was, how it always will be.

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sc0tters · 1 month

Text

Present | Nico Hischier

summary: Sydney and Nico were given a second chance but do they take it or leave the once broken relationship, broken.

request: for @writingonleaves in the @callsign-denmark‘s luck of the puck fic exchange.

warnings: swearing, drinking, like two brief mentions about sexual themes.

word count: 8.75k

authors note: this was SO much fun to write oh my god! there could have been about 3k more in this but I was trimming portions to try to get it out in time. Think I have fallen in love with another fic couple and this was honestly really different to my normal stuff so we might see some small changes to future works because of this!

Nico was like a bad smell she couldn’t get rid of.

Albeit they had broken up well over four years ago, Sydney still couldn’t let herself move on. That was the first relationship that she had been the one to end it. What made that all the much more painful to swallow was that she was on a losing battle playing second fiddle to hockey.

The last normal conversation they had felt like it was weeks ago. Sydney had forced herself into everything that wasn’t Nico after they started fighting. Arguments ranged from complaints of how long Nico was spending at the rink away from practice to how she felt like more like his roommate than his girlfriend. Both had the same complaints behind them, Sydney missed her boyfriend.

Yet each time she tried to confront him about the matter Nico reminded her that she wouldn’t understand what was going on in his life as it was hockey. Those blows were low and she hoped she could forget about them tonight when she swore he was going to be the same caring and thoughtful Nico that Sydney fell for a year and a half ago. Her birthday was one night that Nico made Sydney feel like a princess.

So as this night came around for the second time in their relationship and the third time since he met her. It would have been understandable for her to have had expectations. But in reality all she wanted was for him to show up.

After missing two different nights with her friends and one dinner with her parents after cancelling in the last moments. Sydney’s friends resorted to saying how he was flakier than dandruff but nobody thought he could miss his girls birthday. Sure Nico had things to learn in life, but just like hockey he was learning to be a better boyfriend each day.

Sydney tried to remind herself of that as she sat at the table staring at the empty spot next to her. Everyone did their best to take her mind off of the fact that this time Nico hadn’t even given her an excuse. But no matter how hard they tried to mask their disappointment for the Swiss boy, nothing changed the fact that Sydney felt so alone in a room of the people who were meant to make her the happiest.

So part of her felt a little relieved when it came time for her to go home. Her coat was heavy on her skin as she began the short walk back to the apartment “wait!” The voice made her freeze as her grip on the gifts she held intensified.

Her mouth felt dry as she turned to see Nico running towards her “schatzi I’m so sorry.” The hockey player blurted out as he finally stopped in front of her with his tie loosely fastened around his neck. Sydney clicked her tongue as she shook her head “all I wanted was one night where you would put me first.” She admitted looking at the ground.

The boy was quick to place his hands on her shoulders “of course I put you first, you’re my girlfriend.” Nico spoke plainly like it was the stupidest thing he had heard her say “do you really?” Sydney scoffed as she took a step back.

It seemed as she had snapped “you never want to spend time with me anymore and when you do you’re on your phone distracted.” He avoided her eye as she mentioned that “but when you do pay attention you make me feel so awful like I’m uncool like or not good enough for you.” She brought her hand to her eye to wipe away a tear before it had the chance to roll down her cheek.

Nico knew he hadn’t been a great boyfriend as of recent but he thought he could change “practice went late tonight.” He confessed letting her look down to see his devils bag still in his hand “I think we should break up.” Sydney blurted out and in that moment the hockey player swore his world stopped spinning.

His eyes widened as he tried to figure out if this was just some joke “I mean we barely act like we’re together anyways and when we do we fight so it won’t be much different to right now.” Sydney shrugged as she pointed it out to him.

The boy remained silent as he wanted to wake up from whatever bad dream this was meant to be “goodbye Nico.” She mouthed trying all that she could to not let her voice break as she felt her heart go.

He watched her turn her foot as she began to leave him “please Syd don’t leave.” Nico pleaded feeling himself grow nauseated by the silence as her heels clicking against the sidewalk echoed in his ear “I love you.” It was a place hope statement for him wanting to make sure that she couldn’t leave without hearing him say it one last time.

Nico let out a sigh of relief finally seeing her turn around “there we are.” He smiled holding his arms out as she hugged him “I love you Nico.” Sydney sniffled as she felt a tear roll down her cheek resulting in him kissing her temple.

It took everything from her in that moment to stop herself from listening to her gut as she was close to staying with him “but I simply do not like you anymore.” Her confession had him dropping his hands from around her as he grew confused “and for that I can’t stay.” Sydney shook her head as she cupped his cheek getting one last time to look at him before she stepped away.

Nico felt like the world hated him as a cab pulled up in front of them “I’ll get my stuff during the week.” Sydney announced knowing that he was going to have a roadtrip and wouldn’t be able to stop her. What killed him the most wasn’t that she left, it was the fact that she didn’t even look back to him before she got in the cab.

Even as that happened years ago, the memory still managed to haunt the Jersey native. Even as she completed her degree Sydney couldn’t help but avoid that block. Nico had done well pushing his emotions down as he tried to respect her wishes. It hurt him that Sydney had walked out of his life but he knew she wasn’t unjustified. Nina made sure to call her younger brother out when she was on the other end of a drunken phone call from him.

Despite the fact that, his family only met Sydney on a handful of FaceTime calls, it was clear that she was ready to give him the world. So it was suffice to say that the family was shocked to hear that things had ended. Nobody blamed her for leaving either, but when she revealed to her Instagram page that Nina of course still followed that Sydney moved to Florida. Seeing her in a new NHL teams colors served as the harsh reminder that there was no space for their relationship to come back together.

From time to time Nico would drive past places in New Jersey and would see the memories of the grin imprinted on her face. He’d sometimes go back to the old restaurants and places that Sydney showed him wanting to make sure her Swiss man saw the real city. Nico somehow always ended up disappointed when she wouldn’t show up.

They had each learnt over the years how to live apart whilst never letting go of the remnants of that stained your hearts. Sydney loved being in Tampa, her dream was to work in sport and she was doing it. The lightings began to hold her heart and Sydney swore she would never leave, even as the garden state was still her home.

So when the star’s seemed to align and she was let go from Tampa mere hours before the offer came to go home. To say that Sydney was contemplating it that was an understatement, a life she loved that she ran from was ready to catch up to her. All of those years avoiding the hockey shows and the prudential centre were now for nothing.

Her friends swore she was stupid for even considering turning down the offer, not only was it finally a chance to come home. But it was also the job that Sydney had in a big circle on her vision board as a teen. Nico ended the season injured and that meant that Sydney was going to have to work with him.

That’s why she ended up on FaceTime with her closest friend needing all of the advice that she could get “what are you so afraid of Syd?” Willow sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair “what if things end up the same again?” Sydney’s voice was barely above a whisper as she swirled the wine in her glass. The fears were justified as the girls remembered the time that Sydney was always left waiting only to be met with disappointment.

Willow much like Sydney had left New Jersey after they graduated, yet she didn’t have as much to lose coming back “look I’m in New York if he thinks about being an ass.” Willow offered resulting in a smile forming on the older girls lips “I guess I should get on a call and tell them I’m coming home?” Sydney announced as she figured that nothing could go too badly wrong.

Family skates were a time that everyone loved and to celebrate the start of the season Nico convinced Sydney to join him for her first time on the ice “you seriously telling me you don’t know how to skate?” Nico couldn’t help but laugh as he stared at the girls nervous expression “I was always a field hockey girl growing up so don’t even!” Sydney scoffed as she shook her head.

It made the boy smile “think it’s cute you didn’t know.” The hockey player confessed as he looked down to her skates “just keep your doing that with your feet.” Nico nodded as he loosened his grip on her hands.

Sydney felt her eyes go wide “you better not.” She shook her head going to argue with him “I won’t let you get hurt schatzi.” He kissed her temple before let finally let go her sending a soft push to the small of her back “I’m doing it!” She cheered realizing that she could now skate by herself.

Nico smiled on as he let out a laugh “I’m so proud of you!” He clasped his hands together “wait how do I stop?” Her voice went shaky as Nico forgot to teach her that part.

A smile formed on Sydney’s lips as she fiddled with her necklace remembering that moment as she stared at the ice in front of her “doc is that you?” A familiar Canadian laughed as he hadn’t seen her in years “good to see you Bas.” Sydney turned around to see the older boy who matched her grin.

It took him seconds to pull her into a hug “time has been good to you kid.” He announced hinting to her longer hair that now wasn’t touched by the box color that Sydney loved to play with in college “I hope you aren’t stealing the doctor before I finish giving her the tour Nate.” Jillian teased as she had been tasked with showing Sydney around.

Sydney turned her attention to the older woman when she heard the sound of the boys coming in “if we could just head straight to my office so I could set up?” She proposed hoping that Jillian would agree, unaware of the girls reasoning for cutting her tour early “yeah sure.” The blonde nodded as she motioned to Sydney to follow her.

Within two minutes Nico was stood in the space that once held Sydney’s feet “you’re here early.” The captain pointed out as he furrowed his eyebrows “just figured I’d come meet the new physio early.” Nate shrugged as he threw his hands into his jacket.

His panicked state was noted by the younger boy “was he really that bad?” Nico let out a snort as he began to think that he wouldn’t need any rehabilitation before the trip to Czechia “I’ll let you make your own opinions about her.” The Canadian patted the boys back before he walked away fearing he’d say anything more.

Sydney felt herself cheer as she looked to everything that she had organized “nobody told me when I should see you but I need to be-” Nico cut himself off as his eyes widened seeing her name on the plate that sat on her desk “Sydney.” Her name felt foreign on his tongue as he never knew he’d get the chance to say it again.

The girl froze not knowing what to do as a smile forced its way onto her lips “what is it that you needed to see me for?” She cocked her head ignoring the way her heart pounded out of her chest “to get cleared so I can be back on the ice.” Nico explained as he pointed to his shoulder.

She nodded directing her head to where the examination table sat “go sit up there.” The girl pulled her hair into a pony “take your shirt off too.” She added watching him sit there like he was frozen.

His cheeks turned red as he grew embarrassed “right sorry.” He sighed pulling his shirt off before he placed it next to him “so how are you?” Sydney’s voice was soft as she ran her finger over the area.

Nico watched her intently “I mean I’ve been as good as one can be for captain and injured.” He confessed as he shrugged wincing as her hands turned her shoulder “I meant how is your shoulder feeling?” The girl stood there awkwardly as she reminded him why he was there.

The boy nodded as he gasped “right sorry.” The hockey player was quick to make it seem like he knew that all along “really hoping I’m ready to be cleared.” He was scared that she would stop him from traveling.

Sydney clicked her tongue as she stared at his arm “well I think you should pack your bags.” A smile formed on her lips as his eyes lit up “so think you should go get back to your team cap.” She bit her lower lip as it got caught between her teeth.

He pulled his shirt over his head and it helped her breathe again as she was no longer staring at his chiseled chest “so how have you been?” Nico twiddled his thumbs as he took in the sight of Sydney in her devils tracksuit “last few years in Florida has been real good t’me.” She shrugged trying to ignore the fact that he still used the same cologne that she had bought him.

All he could do was nod as his eyes leaned to the door “y’know I’m sorry.” Nico apologized as he sucked at his teeth “think you should get back to your team now.” She reminded him as she shook her head not caring for his apology.

Nico frowned when he watched her open her door “schatzi please.” He pleaded with a frown “think it’s best if you go.” Sydney mumbled looking to the floor as she refused to meet his eyes until he left.

As the door shut behind her she let out a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding in “fuck.” The physio felt her voice break when her head pushed against the door. It was going to long season if Sydney couldn’t even get through the mere act of talking to him.

Nico felt like he was barely above water watching the team practice as his legs bounced. His mind ran a million miles a minute holding every thought that he had kept in about Sydney came flooding back “you okay?” Jesper furrowed his eyebrows as he slid onto the bench next to the captain.

The Swiss man sighed as he nodded “she’s back.” The blonde couldn’t tell if the captain was asking him or admitting to that “who is?” Jesper felt like he was out of the loop.

Before Nico could answer him the older boy began poking his thigh “Syd is the new doc!” He whisper yelled feeling as though his mouth was about to fall out of his jaw “I know!” Nico sent him a glare trying to hint to his teammate that she was who he was talking about.

His lips turned into an o shape as he nodded “guys I expect you all to make yourself familiar with your new physio Sydney James.” The coach pointed to her as she sent the guys an awkward wave.

She was grateful for the fact that only a handful of the devils players she knew were still with the team as unfamiliar faces stared back at her “don’t try getting hurt to meet me early though, I look forward to meeting you guys throughout the season.” Her joke went down well with the team who cracked a laugh in response.

It made Nico feel sick as he saw the way that Luke and Alex looked up at the girl. They were far too friendly with her that the Swiss man wished he could just announce to the team that Sydney was off limits. But as she was pulled into a conversation with Nate who couldn’t help but send Nico a reminding look, the captain knew it wouldn’t work.

He spent the first two weeks of training trying to get his emotions under control as Nico needed to keep the green eyed monster to himself. Part of him wished he was still injured so that he could be the one spending time in her office as Sydney hadn’t spoken to him after that moment when she cleared him. Nico was willing to go as far as to pull some kind of rank to get the chance to sit with her during the flight to Czechia, only stopping once he was spoken down.

The flight was peaceful for the girl who got her beloved window seat. If there was one trait that Sydney was happy to say she got from her mom it was the fact that she could fall asleep anywhere and the hard plane wall seemed to be a favorite. Her phone was out as the team got to their hotel, snapping pictures to send back to Willow so the girls could talk about their future trips to Europe.

Nico smiled as he saw the girl grin only letting his expression drop when she flipped her phone around to show something to Jack that made him laugh in response. The Hughes boy was finally getting a chance to get to know her as the couple of interactions they had prior, were all under her being Nico’s girlfriend.

It was unclear to the Swiss man though when Sydney and Jack became so close but now he had seen them sit together on the bus for the entire ride to the hotel “you cannot be jealous Nico.” Nate reminded the younger boy as he could sense the glare the captain sent the centre from a mile away.

As she laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear Nico felt his heart flutter “I’m going to give him extra laps then.” Nico warned looking up to his friends “why don’t you talk to her?” Nate shot back pointing out that it was the most obvious thing that he could have done.

That resulted in Nico rolling his eyes as he shook his head “she didn’t seem like she wanted that.” He mumbled choosing to believe that Sydney had a change of heart by now “look don’t tell her I suggested this but she won’t turn you down if you’re injured.” Nate lowered his voice as he avoided the girls eyes like he was sharing a secret or something.

Nico truly wanted to call the idea for what it was which was a plan destined to fail “that’s never going to work.” He knew that he couldn’t hide anything from his Sydney and the captain prayed that she still knew him like that “just think about it.” Were the parting words that the older boy left with him as he walked off.

It didn’t take long for the knock to come at Sydney’s temporary office door “come in!” She called out as she wrapped the ice packs ready to go “hey Syd.” His voice was soft as he stood with one foot in the doorframe.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows as she turned to see Nico looking anywhere but where she was “what’s up cap?” The physio crossed her arms waiting to hear what brought him into her office “hurt my shoulder.” He pointed to the recently recovered one and it made the girl feel like her heart was in her chest.

She motioned to him to come over like he was a sick child waking their parent up in the middle of the night “did this happen in practice or?” It worried Sydney as the last she saw of him he was looking alright. Because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had been keeping an eye on him.

Nico nodded “Nate pushed me into the board and I think I just hit it weirdly.” He confessed as he took his shirt off not caring for the fact that he threw the older boy under the bus “good news is that it looks really good.” Sydney mumbled to herself as she studied the moment of his arm.

Of course the boy thought she was complimenting him at first “ah.” His gasp sounded like a wince making the girl furrow her eyebrows “you know I think we might have to pull you from tomorrow’s game if it doesn’t get better.” That was a blatant lie made her want to see just how honest the boy in front of her was being.

His eyes went wide as he thought about it “maybe I just need a painkiller and good night sleep and I’ll be good?” He offered as she dropped her hands going to reprimand him “doc!” The whine echoed in the hall quickly turning Sydney’s attention away from the boy.

She frowned seeing Luke walk in as he clutched his nose “what’s up bud?” The girl was quick to go over to his side to help him to her table “Jack hit me with the puck.” He explained making her hold back a laugh as this wasn’t the first time the siblings sent each other to see her.

So as Nico sat there dumbfounded by how fast he lost her attention Sydney couldn’t help but glare at him “if you’re done playing pretend I have an actual patient I need to see.” She spoke with spite. He was left to grab his shirt as he went to scurry out of the room beyond embarrassed with the new mental note to never listen to Nate again.

Maybe Sydney would have felt better if she knew the guilt that Nico carried after he left her room. But as she sat on the phone, she didn’t really care how he felt “you know the slap in the face that I felt today?” Sydney sighed as she fiddled with the ends of her robes strings.

Willow was still in bed as she had barely woken up from a night out “look I think you need to have a serious chat with him because that was a total dick move.” All the older girl did was validate her feelings “if he wants to have a relationship with you then he needs to be mature.” She added leaving Sydney to nod as she stared out of her window capturing the European nightlife.

It hurt her knowing that he seemed to care enough that little to do that to her “Will I think there’s someone at the door.” Sydney sighed hearing the sound of breathing outside of her room “I should go back to bed anyways.” Willows words made the younger girl laugh as the screen went black.

Sydney took those few paces to get to the other side of her room “hey-oh.” Her face dropped seeing Nico now stood in front of her “can we talk?” This time round his face was full of this sorry expression that even made the physio feel bad for spending her last hour bitching about him.

She nodded opening her door a little further to let him in as she wanted to avoid Nate and John’s room that was right across the hall from hers “I was a dick today.” Nico never really knew what words were appropriate for certain situations, especially when they came to the girl in front of him.

He watched her facial expressions softened as she let her arms drop to her sides “I know.” She nodded letting out a sigh “I just keep on trying to figure out how the hell we navigate this because I’m really happy you’re back.” The captain confessed as he scratched the nape of his neck.

Sydney did her best to hold back a grin as she knew his words were going to make her swoon “I just don’t want to lose you again.” They both knew he was hinting to romantically yet as the room grew hot she ignored that “you pull a stunt like that again and I will not talk to you.” She felt like he had made a mockery of her job by faking being hurt just to talk to her.

The boy nodded “I’m not that scary and if you want to talk just tell me that.” She warned him making him smile “I’ll make sure you have your food before I come talk.” He teased making her playfully roll her eyes as she pretended to be annoyed.

Nico watched her send him a genuine smile as he heard his phone go off reminding him that he was meant to be playing the F1 video game with Timo “well I think I should head back to mine now.” He announced reading the message from the boy wondering where he was.

Sydney nodded as she tugged at the necklace on her neck “and Nico?” Her voice was softer as they both shifted back to her door “I’m glad to be back too.” Whilst the physio couldn’t bring herself to say what she meant aloud, Nico knew it all too tell “have a nice night Syd.” Once he started the walk back to his room he realized that they each knew each other too well.

It was one of the reasons why neither one of them could find themselves in a long term relationship with another person. Their hearts couldn’t be given to strangers when the scars of that relationship were still impounded on them. So as much as Sydney probably would hate to admit it, she was still the same person that Nico knew like the back of his hand and he was that to her.

If Sydney had the choice her birthday would have been just another day. After the nightmare that was her birthday when she broke up with Nico it became a day she preferred to forget. That’s why she ended up awake early and on a run through the city she missed. It made her happy seeing the way that the summer leaves were now turning to different shades of fall with crisp oranges and reds painted the trees and streets in front of her.

Going for a run was never her first choice of activities but now that she was back in Nico’s life for her birthday, it brought up emotions Sydney wished to forget. Her feet took her to coffee shop that she hadn’t seen in years “you okay doc?” Jack’s voice was soft as he furrowed his eyebrows “just great.”She lied pulling her AirPods out of her ear as her head felt dizzy.

Jack held his hand out to the girl as he motioned inside “I could do with some company when I have my coffee if the birthday girl pleases.” A smile formed on his face as she was quickly confused forgetting about her previous emotions “really thought Nico wouldn’t tell us about your birthday?” Jack didn’t now the details of why they ended as neither party felt up to revealing that to him.

Sydney shook her head as her eyes stuck to the corner as memories came flooding back into her mind “can’t say I expected him rush to it.” She mumbled clenching her hand around her phone as she realized that nothing had changed in the cafe after all those years. The Hughes boy saw where she was staring“you want to go sit there and I’ll get you your normal?” Before he waited for the girl to answer the hockey player left wanting to get her a birthday treat.

It had been pouring all day when Nico ran into the girls favorite cafe “hey schatzi.” He smiled kissing her temple before he slid into the seat next to her “you’re all wet!” She complained feeling him shake his hair in her face like a dog.

A laugh left his lips as he hooked his fingers under her jaw “missed ya.” Nico mumbled before he pecked her lips. The kiss was far too short for her approval and it had her letting her lips form a pout as Sydney went to kiss him again “seems you missed me too.” The hockey player smirked watching his girlfriend roll her eyes.

His hands went to her sides pulling her that much closer to her as he smiled “don’t know why I do.” She clicked her tongue pulling him into a proper kiss. Nico groaned as her tongue swiped across his lower lip and before he got the chance to enjoy the kiss she pulled away “that’s why.” Nico nodded to himself as he had to do everything in his power to stop the blood from rushing to his cock.

Jack noticed that Sydney hadn’t moved and it left him squeezing her arm as he grew worried “you alright doc?” He furrowed his brows watching as she practically had her soul come back into her body “yeah I-I’m sorry.” She nodded tucking her loose strands from her braid behind her ear.

The boy felt bad thinking he had been apart of it “we can take it to go and I’ll drop you off at yours if you’d prefer?” Jack offered hoping that the girl would tell him what was going on eventually “yeah maybe that would be best.” Sydney nodded as she frowned “think I need to go home and take the day.” Part of her felt pathetic as she truthfully thought that she could survive and get through it all but maybe she wasn’t that brave.

From the moment Nico realized that Sydney wasn’t at work he felt like shit. Jack didn’t fail to mention his little interaction with the girl and how she was really off from the moment they walked into that cafe “what if she doesn’t want to see anyone?” Jack inquired as he pulled up his phone to find the address that the physio had put in when he dropped her off “she can turn me away and I won’t say that it was you who gave me the address.”Nico knew he wouldn’t stop worrying about the girl.

It made the boy scoff “I am telling you so I don’t get extra laps.” Jack reminded the older boy as he spoke in a duh tone “same thing?” The captain shrugged as he rolled his eyes.

Sydney sat comfortably with her pint of ice cream when she was curled up in a blanket“go away I’m sick!” She faked a cough at the sound of a knock at her door “I know you’re in there and I know you’re okay!” Nico called out as he looked to the bags of Chinese takeaway in his hands.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she skeptically walked to the door “what are you doing here?” The physio asked staring through the peephole to see where he was “you shouldn’t spend your birthday alone.” He was met with silence “and I brought you food.” That offer worked far better as the girl opened the door.

Nico smiled as he held the bags up “can I come in?” He asked as she nodded “you didn’t need to do this.” Sydney pointed out as she shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets.

It made the boy roll his eyes “I am here because you deserve it and you always loved this places egg rolls.” The smell made Sydney moan “god you are a saint.” She nodded opening the bag like she hadn’t eaten in weeks “why is there a cupcake on the top?” Sydney took a step back as she cocked her head waiting for this answer.

The captain awkwardly looked to the ground “realized I’ve never gotten you a cupcake on your birthday.” He confessed reflecting on how poor of a boyfriend he had to her “thank you for this.” Her smile was genuine as her heart felt full.

He brushed her off as he wanted to just do something nice for her “so why don’t you go sit down and I’ll get some plates?” It was like a flip switched in their minds and before they both knew it they were back to this domestic couple laying on the couch as they caught up “so how is it being captain?” Sydney had never gotten the chance to congratulate him on that as they always thought she’d be by his side when it happened.

The boy placed his chopsticks on his plate as he looked up “I’m just glad we are doing better than last season.” In a competition for felt like last place Nico was relieved to know that the team had improved “everyone always blames the captain when the stuff on the ice goes wrong.” The weight of the world had been on his shoulders and he didn’t think he could do it again.

Sydney frowned as she shook her head placing her hand on his “never thought it was your fault neeks.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she squeezed his hand “you’d be someone who would be the most justified to hate my guts.” Nico pointed out making the girl move closer to him.

Their legs touched and it seemed to make him melt into her couch “I broke up with you because this wasn’t right for me anymore, not because I hated you.” Sydney confessed needing him to know hear her “you were always too good to me Syd.” Nico sighed bringing his hand up to cup her cheek.

She was proud that she hadn’t started to cry as she realized how much she missed moments like this with him “nice to know you think that.” The girl smiled as she watched his eyes dart to her lips “y’know I’m proud of us for reaching our dreams.” Nico announced dropping his hand as he moved away from her side.

Sydney missed his touch as she nodded “think you being captain is a bit more impressive than a physio.” Her words made him send her a glare “without you we’d be a dead team walking.” Nico was quick to quip back “like Jack would have killed Luke and you know the boys love you.” It had been barely a month since she joined the team and it was clear that for many she was like a sister that they never had.

It made her blush as she hurried her head in her hands quietly shaking her head “they like me?” She let her lips formed an o as she smiled “they like me!” It had her kicking her feet “the more you say it the more I regret it!” He matched her tone causing her lips to shoot into a line.

It was sent with this glare “on that note I’m going to get another drink.” Nico smiled getting up as he sent to the kitchen “you know I’m glad you came back to Jersey.” He confessed looking into her fridge as he had put his juice into it.

The other side of the room was silent “it’s good seeing you out of that awful shade of blue.” A laugh left his lips as he played harder against the two Florida teams as Nina let it slip that it was where Sydney relocated to “and I really do know I was a fool for not running after you.” He rambled on cracking open the bottle.

He was confused not getting any response “I was stupid for not doing that and I know I should-” the hockey captain laughed as he cut himself off seeing Sydney fast asleep on the couch.

It was sweet and comforting as she was out cold already too far gone to be woken up from sudden noises “you’ve never stopped being so beautiful.” Nico sighed placing his glass on the table “happy birthday Syd.” He pulled her blanket over her tucking her in.

Soft huffs left her lips as she nuzzled her head into the pillow behind her “goodnight.” The captain picked up her plate heading to clean up for her.

Snow fell on the roads outside as Sydney was busy in the kitchen “Syd come get the door!” Her mom called out turning the Christmas music down “ma I gotta make sure that my cookies are right!” The physio complained wipe the flour on her apron.

The girl was irritated as she walked through the house avoiding the areas of her scattered younger cousins who ran through the first floor “you came!” Sydney’s brother let out a giggle turning to see when his sister would come to him “Syd, Nico is here!” Kyle squealed not noticing as his sisters eyes went wide.

Sydney felt embarrassed as she was covered in flour and a definite bit of chocolate “I know.” She nodded hearing the gasps from her uncles as they realised that the Devils captain was stood in the living room “merry Christmas Syd.” Nico smiled sending her a wave “your dad said I could come.” He explained pointing to her father who did nothing more than nod willingly as he took full blame for the matter.

As her family began to move closer to him with many never having had met him before Nico found himself getting overwhelmed sending Sydney a hopeful look that she’d come and save him “alright alright people hands off my captain.” The physio groaned pushing through as she wrapped her hand around the Swiss man’s “I need my sue chef for the rest of my cookies.” She lied ignoring the complaints from the older members of her family who couldn’t help but sigh at the news.

Nico smiled seeing the chaos that was the kitchen counter “you don’t mind that I’m here?” He asked pulling the coat from his shoulders “Nico you deserve to spend Christmas with people who love you.” Sydney began placing the cookies into the oven as she set her timer.

The boy found a comfortable place in the corner of her kitchen “but if you can’t spend the day with your family I’ll happily let you spend it with mine.” Since she was a kid the house was always full on holidays and that’s what she had grown used to “you really mean that?” To say he was touched was an understatement.

She nodded watching him go to hug her “I’m gonna get flour all over ya.” Sydney went to stop him but instead it only made him hug her tighter “I’ll let you make a mess out of me any day Syd.” Nico confessed as he kissed her head, if only she knew she already made him feel like that each day.

January came and went and now the team was celebrating a flurry of wins with a family skate session “doc where are your skates?” Luke quizzed the girl as he crossed his arms “they are in the corner.” Sydney pointed to the side.

The boy furrowed his brows as the girl grinned “and why aren’t they on your feet?” He spoke in a duh tone “because this is time for you guys to skate with your families.” Sydney shot back like it was the most obvious thing in this world “you are family so get those on before I push you onto the ice.” the duo had formed this brother sister bond that had them questioning why they only just met.

Nico watched the interaction from afar “you better get her on the ice before I do.” Nina warned as she skated to her brothers side “don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” He confessed watching as she ruffled her hand through the younger Hughes boys hair.

Nina sighed squeezing his hand “if you don’t I’ll tell her about how you slept talk about her for a month after she dumped you.” The girl warned with a smirk on her face “you wouldn’t.” The Hischier siblings each faced off in front of each other.

But their moment was cut short when Luke cleared his throat “Nina she said she’s not skating if you don’t come skate with her.” The Hughes boy sighed not knowing how he ended up in the position of biding the girls battles.

It made her laugh “I’m coming baby!” Nina called out seeing the girl waving at her.

It made Nico smile as he realised that the duo were still just as close as they used to be “who would have thought you’d be putting up a fight with your sister for doc.” Dawson teased seeing the girls embrace each other “you want take extra laps?” Nicos offer left the boy silent as he shook his head letting the captain watch the sight.

The crowd that the prudential center was ecstatic after the boys won their final game of the season “doc we did it!” Jack cheered seeing the girl smile as she high-fived him “so you gonna come with us tonight?” He asked seeing the crowd of his teammates funnel into the locker room.

She grew confused as she furrowed her eyebrows “come with you?” She trailed off hoping the boy would fill in the gaps “we are going to celebrate and you’re coming with!” Luke chuckled as he sent her a grin “you better come with Syd.” Nico pleaded letting out a groan as he could see she wasn’t sure.

The quick desperate looks that the boys sent her were enough “just spend me the address and I’ll be there okay!” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she heard them all cheer.

Sydney looked good in her red dress and that’s what left Nico practically attached to her hip “neeks if you don’t leave we’re both not getting any action tonight.” The physio warned as every guy that thought about looking her way was instantly turned off by the idea of the Swiss man next to her.

Nico forced a laugh as he sipped his beer “who says that I really want to go home with some stranger anyways?” He shot back making her smirk “the captain decide he’s too good for a reward now?” She teased stirring her straw in her drink.

He did everything he could to not get angry that she failed to note his flirtatious acknowledgements “only if this girl doesn’t come and give it to me.” The captain nudged his shoulder with hers “so blonde with the big tits still has a shot?” Sydney laughed seeing that a girl that had been trying her luck all night with the boy was still there waiting for him.

It made Nico cringe at the memory of how her fake nails practically dug into the skin of his arm “don’t remember you referring to yourself as big tits.” The joke have time to land before Sydney brought her hand to hit him “I’m kidding!” Nico groaned having to massage the area of his now sore arm.

She sent him an unimpressed look that only made him smile in response as he held back a laugh “have to admit that it was pretty fucking funny.” His voice was soft as he tried to re break the ice “shut up.” Sydney rolled her eyes as she turned her head now noticing that their faces were millimetres away from each other.

Nico was the first to move but instead of moving away, he hooked his fingers under her jaw and pulled Sydney closer. His lips were rough against hers and if it wasn’t for Willow yelling in her mind Sydney would have melted into his touch. Yet that wasn’t the case as she pulled away “Nico.” Their foreheads touched like they were struggling to breathe.

The boy was embarrassed as he had been rejected “I should go.” Sydney announced as she looked to her watch. Tonight she was grateful for the fact that she wasn’t wearing heels as it meant she could slip away from the scene.

Still running wasn’t something that Sydney enjoyed. But somehow here she was avoiding her feelings. It was surprisingly tougher than the girl thought to avoid Nico as he was everywhere. Shortly after that night in the bar the team ended up on a roadtrip to play their wild card game, and Nico was in the seat next to her.

Luckily for them both they ended up asleep and were forced to talk. Then the countless awkward elevator rides came where somehow not a single person on the team could be in the same lift as them. Still neither one of them broke, it was this battle of stubbornness that seemed destined to go on forever “Hischier is down!” The announcer called out as the coaching staff looked to Sydney as her eyes went wide.

In that moment she no longer cared about the fact that she had rejected him. The awkwardness they both felt seemed to dissipate as she slid onto her knees in front of him “what hurts Nico?” She asked seeing him clutch different parts of his body “my knee.” Nico frowned locking eyes with her as it made the girl sigh.

The physio didn’t hesitate to do the right thing “I need to check you out in the room.” The team was already three down in the third and Sydney came to the conclusion that with injuries she was going to make the boys cut their losses with less than five minutes on the clock.

He went to argue as the boys helped him up “need to check you out Neeks to make sure you’re okay.” Her voice was soft fearing the worst as he didn’t put any weight on his leg “I’m fine he spat shaking his head as he almost couldn’t believe that she’d take him out of a game this big.

It was funny how Sydney taking him out early ended up being the reason why Nico wasn’t walking into the end of season gala with some kind of brace around his knee. The team were happy together and as the happy couples within it finally got the chance to celebrate how far their partners came over the long season, it felt incomplete.

Sure Nico would have wanted a HABs the cup to complete it. But it was actually when he searched for Sydney that he realised something was off, she was gone “you seen Syd?” Nico asked Nate wondering if the girl was hiding in a corner beating Luke at the days wordle that he always struggled to get.

But instead Nate motioned out to the terrace that was attached to the venue “said she wanted to get some air a couple of minutes ago!” Nate called out over the music as he shrugged. Nico patted his teammate on the back to thank him before he went straight for the door.

If he hadn’t looked hard enough he would have missed her but there stood Sydney in the corner as she let her black dress blend into the night “there you are Syd.” He was quick to regret placing his hand on the skin of her back realising how cold she was “you’re practically frozen.” Nico pointed out removing his suit jacket.

Sydney smiled feeling the thick material wrap around her shoulders “what are you doing out here?” The captain asked as he cocked his head “just been doing some thinking.” The physio confessed as she shrugged.

Nico nodded hoping to hear more from her but decided against pushing for it. But as he stood there and her lips remained shut the boy lost hope and went to leave her “I don’t want to just be your physio Nico.” Sydney blurted out feeling her throat go dry as the nerves hit her.

It made his feet stick to the spot where he stood “I thought I did a good job letting the boys get you too.” Nico pointed out as she sighed.

She knew telling him was a stupid idea that would only end up hurting her “I keep on trying to remember all of the reasons why we didn’t work.” His face dropped as her eyes went shut “but it only works for like a minute until I see that you’ve grown into this great guy who deserves the world.” It made Nico smile knowing that Sydney felt that way.

The girl tucked her hair behind her ear “but you’re going to Switzerland and I’m meant to be in France.” Willow had indeed convinced Sydney to take that girls trip that they so clearly deserved “and you need to be able to be free back there.” Nina hadn’t withheld any information from the physio so she now knew about all the girls that wanted him both in his home and hers.

Nico took a step back closer to her “why turn me down in the bar?” He asked still thinking back to the moment where she ran away from him “I was scared it was going to be a one time thing.” With that Nico had his hands on her waist spinning her so that she could look at him.

His eyes pierced hers “I’ve been ready to go six stages in with ya since I was so boring you feel asleep on your birthday.” Nico teased her and was only met with a scoff “I had a long day okay!” Nico began to sway her back and forth as they listened to the music that traveled from inside.

The boy rested his head against hers as they both swore they could be there forever “I want to be yours forever.” Sydney confessed making him smile “I am yours forever.” He mumbled leaning down to peck her lips.

Not to be dramatic but the sound of fireworks went off and Nico swore the world understood him, or at least that was until he looked up to the sky to see fireworks going off. They made him smile as he heard Sydney squeal in delight.

So there the duo stood arms wrapped around each other with the inevitable spending the night between the sheets with tangled legs looming over their heads. All the moment needed to be perfect was one final touch “Nico you wanna go on a date tonight?” Sydney smiled as she already had an idea forming in her mind.

Nico nodded as he thought about the perfect place to go “why don’t we go get pizza?” Most people would have cringed at that idea whilst they were dressed in the high clothing that they were “like right now?” Sydney wasn’t used to the side of Nico that was ready to pull her down the stares and out to something impulsive.

He nodded pressing the open button on the elevator “ain’t no time like the present baby.” Nico announced letting the doors slide shut before he let his lips lace with Sydney’s. The world went on but I’m hat moment for them it all stopped allowing the duo to enjoy their present.

#Luck of the puck fic exchange #amber writes fics #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nhl imagines #nhl oneshots #hockey imagines #hockey oneshots

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Pick Your Poison

Request: from @doctorsteeb OH YOU SAY YOU NEED MORE ROSSI!DAUGHTER REQUEST?? I AM HERE I HAVE ARRIVED

Rossi!daughter being a barista and unknowingly serving BAU their coffee all the time? Then eventually learning she’s rossi’s daughter?

(Tell me if this is Too Specific I can be more vague)

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Criminal minds x platonic!reader

Summary: You've been serving coffee to the BAU team for months... imagine their shock when they learn that you're David Rossi's daughter.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I love writing rossi daughter. The sass, the italian nicknames, the banter- it's so much fun! I hope you enjoy this! (this does include the request of reader having studied abroad but I'm doing a seprate fic for that one as well)

CW: an absurd amount of talk about types of coffee, if you look up the meaning of rossi's nickname for reader you might cry

---

It was 4:00 AM when your shift at the coffee shop began. It didn’t open until 5:00, but you were in charge of opening the place yourself. You didn’t mind, though; it gave you time to think about how you might mess with your dad’s co-workers that day.

Rossi went back to work at the BAU just before you entered high school. With his busy work schedule, you both agreed that a boarding school close to home would be best. When it came time for college, you applied to a few schools in the States, but you had an itch to see the world. It was an incredible, well-earned surprise when you were accepted into the University of Bologna in Italy. Your dad had been incredibly supportive, and even though your extended family was dysfunctional at best, he was happy you’d be going somewhere there were relatives nearby.

You loved Italy, but after graduation you had wanted to move home and take a gap year. A friend from high school had opened a coffee shop not far from the Quantico office, and having been a barista at a local shop through college to help pay for your student costs (not that you needed it when your dad could easily afford your tuition) it was the perfect situation.

The fact that your dad’s co-workers were your most frequent customers didn’t hurt either. Not that they knew you were David Rossi’s daughter - your tag only displayed your given name - but it was interesting to have such casual interactions with the people your father spent most of his time with. And having been raised by a profiler, you had a little too much fun knowing something that the best minds in the nation didn’t.

---

It was 4:56 AM when Aaron Hotchner pushed open the door to the shop. Had it been any other customer, you would have told them that it didn’t actually open for another four minutes, but the man was there frequently enough that you really didn’t care. Plus, his order was about as simple as possible to make: a robusta medium roast from Columbia with a single shot of espresso. After only a few weeks, you noticed that he ordered an extra shot in his morning coffee about three days after a case, when the paperwork was the most heavy. This happened to be one of those days.

“Good morning, Mr. Hotchner,” you greeted him. “I’m already working on your usual this morning, unless of course you would like to try something new.” You knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at his watch. “Could I get an extra shot of espresso?”

You put a lid on the cup and handed it to him, moving to the register to ring him up. “Already done,” you told him.

He chuckled a bit- the smallest smile escaping his lips. “Do I really look that bad?” He handed you cash as he always did so he could leave the change in the tip jar. This morning he was either so tired he hadn’t thought about the bill he pulled out of his wallet, or he was feeling generous. By what you had heard about him from your dad, it was probably the latter.

“Not at all,” you handed him his change. “We all need the extra boost some days.”

“Thank you,” he said, putting all his change in the jar before leaving the shop.

He hurried out so quickly he didn’t even notice that you had written out his order on the board of specials for the day, calling it “The Unit Chief”.

---

As always, Spencer Reid was the first customer you served once the shop had officially opened. The doctor, unlike his boss, enjoyed exploring the different brews - always asking what region the beans had come from and giving you facts or statistics about his drink choice for that day. You listened to him ramble as you prepared him an arabica light roast grown in Asia; a bean the shop had just received.

“About a third of the world's coffee comes from Asia, but when asked the average American usually assumes that their coffee has been grown in Latin America or Africa,” he explained. “It’s also widely agreed upon by coffee enthusiasts that Asia produces the sweetest coffee.”

“Well then you won’t be needing as much sweetener as normal, Doctor,” you said as you handed him his order. “But I refilled the jar of sugar just for you.”

“Oh, thanks,” he said, grabbing three packs of sugar- two less than normal- and stuffing them into his jacket pocket. “Have a nice day!” He smiled awkwardly before turning and leaving out the door.

As soon as he left you wrote down his order on the specials board, deeming it “The Genius”. He wouldn’t notice you wrote the same words on his cup until he sat down at Quantico.

---

You weren’t quite sure who would be in to get their coffee next, but you smiled when it was Agent Jerau. There was something about the petite blonde and how easily she made conversation that brought a sense of serenity to your day. The rest of the team were very distinct- the kind of people you could look at and simply believe that they worked for the BAU- but other than being absurdly pretty, Jennifer was normal.

Even her arabica “bean of the day” cappuccino was the most common order out of all of them, with the exception that she always bought a single iced cookie to go with it.

“In all the time I’ve worked here I haven’t actually tried these cookies,” you told her as you pulled one out of the pastry display and put it in a bag.

“Neither have I,” she said. “But my son loves them.”

You thought of the little blonde boy that sometimes accompanied her and her fiance to the shop on the weekends. He always got a cup of steamed milk to look like his parents, but he always ended up dunking his cookie in it when they sat down at a table.

“I’ll have to try one then.”

The agent left before she could notice the board, which had her order paired with an iced cookie named “The Mother” written among the rest.

---

Per usual, Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia came into the shop together. You knew their flirtatious behavior was actually a demonstration of a platonic friendship, but that was only because Rossi had told you so.

“Baby Girl,” Morgan said to Garcia as you handed him his normal robusta medium roast red eye with just enough hazelnut creamer that the coffee wasn’t ridiculously bitter, “I’ve got the payment for today.”

“Derek, you know very well that I can and will hack into the system and change the credit card number to mine,” she told him, quickly glancing at you to say. “I promise I’m not stealing money from the shop. I love local businesses. If anything I would give you more money so this place stays open.”

You smiled, preparing her extremely complex order that changed slightly from day-to-day but always stayed as sweet as possible. Today it was an arabica medium roast from Ethiopia with all the fixings to complete the order into a chocolate caramel mocha.

“I’m sure my boss would appreciate that,” you told her. The idea of your father having to deal with a woman as sweet and eccentric as Penelope never failed to make you laugh.

She dug a handful of coins out of her purse to put in the tip jar before her and Morgan bid you a good day and left to go to work. You adjusted the order labeled “The Techie” to fit her drink for that day, but left Derek’s alone - “The Door Destroyer.”

---

Emily Prentiss was the last of the team to grab her coffee that morning. You were aware that she was the most observant in everyday situations, but that morning she was behind schedule by around ten minutes. Her boots clicked against the floor of the shop - lower pitched than the sound of heels but higher than those of men’s shoes. She moved fast towards the counter.

“I have your order ready,” you told her. “Robusta african dark roast latte with a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you so much.” She paid quickly, leaving a handsome tip.

In all her rush her observation skills had faltered. Not only had she missed that she had a milk mustache, but she also didn’t see that her order on the board was labeled “The Modern Femme Fatale”.

---

“So,” Rossi said casually. “The best coffee near Quantico?”

With all the extra paperwork, the team had decided they needed extra caffeine, a short break, and some fresh air. Even Hotch thought it was a good idea, which is how David Rossi ended up walking towards the Pick Your Poison coffee shop with the rest of the BAU.

“It’s great,” Reid started. “They let you pick everything from the location, the bean type, the roast. There was this one time they got in a robusta from Brazil that-”

“Or you can just pick from their menu,” JJ told Rossi, interrupting Reid before he could go on any further. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“If you say so,” Rossi replied nonchalantly.

The team filed into the cafe and he saw you working behind the counter, your hair pulled away from your face as you checked the machinery. You looked up at them as they entered, all still oblivious to the small daily specials board that had their orders on it.

They greeted you and ordered one at a time, the same thing each of them had gotten that morning, leaving Rossi for last. He smiled when he stepped up to the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Mio passerotta.”

You returned his hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Ciao, Papa.”

“Wait-” Emily, being the only other person in the room who spoke Italian, picked up on it first. “You’re Rossi’s daughter?”

You laughed. “Have been all my life.”

The team looked around at one another, all slightly confused.

“How did you not know that we work with your dad?” JJ asked.

You shook your head. “Oh, no. I knew. I just wanted to see how long it would take you all to figure it out.”

Morgan looked stunned, Garcia’s jaw couldn’t drop any further, and Reid was tilting his head, probably trying to pick out the similarities between you and your dad.

Hotch turned to Rossi. “Dave, care to explain?”

“It was her idea, not mine.” He held up his hands defensively.

"You've been working here for five months, three weeks, and six days," Reid said.

"That is an excellent observation, doctor," you replied. "In my dad's defense, he said I had to confess before the six month mark."

"I'm suprised it took a confession in the first place," Rossi, then turned to you. “Now, I’ll speak in English so the nerds can understand. What specials do you have today?”

“Well,” You glanced at the special’s board, “If you’re going for the most caffeine I would choose “The Unit Chief” or “The Modern Femme Fatale”. “The Door Destroyer” has the strongest flavor on the bitter side and both “The Genius” and “The Techie” lean towards sweet. I’d recommend “The Mother”, but it’s past 11 AM and we all know how la mia bisnonna feels about cappuccinos past the morning.”

The team looked around at one another in complete shock over the specials order board you had put together. A smirk crossed your face as they gawked at you ever so slightly.

Your dad chuckled. “I’ll just go with a good old fashioned un caffe, then.”

“Presto in arrivo,” you said, and got to work on everyone’s order’s, but not before adding a single shot of espresso to the board called “Mia Papa.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #david rossi #rossi x daughter!reader #rossi x child!reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #david rossi x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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borzoilover69 · 1 year

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ULTIMATE JAKE: an idea and an execution

iA I Aka the post where borzoi talks to the crowd how awesome Lord Jake English is, the guy that everyones seen around, but have no idea who he is. Pull up a chair, this will get long.

If Ultimate Dirk can be summarised by the mask of tragedy in theatre, LE Jake, AKA Ultimate Jake, could be summarised by the mask of comedy. I’ve barely read HS2, but from what I can see, Dirk wants to make a serious nitty gritty tragedy of serious and epic proportions. But he tries so hard that he ends up making it almost laughable.

Jake wants to make a thighslapper huckshaw comedy where everyones having a grand old time but there is such deep and hollow tragedy hidden within the folds of all those pretty smiles.

If anything they abide a lot by aristotles theory on comedy and tragedy. While tragedy imitates men better than average, comedy parodies those who are worse.

Aristotle stated that those of a more serious type that may have once been inclined to celebrate the actions of great heroes in poetry and prose turn to tragedy, while those who’ve been dishonourable, humbled, turn to comedy. It comes down to duality, tragedy viewing duality as a fatal contradiction forever a fault in things, while comedy views it as natural, but something that everyone must live with the best they can, enjoy. Do you see where I’m going here? Dirk, who praised Aristotle and read the epics turned to tragedy. Jake, dishonourable and hiding from those who he care about, turning to comedy. They line up well with the cognitive psychology of the tragedy and comedy visions, which you should totally look into when you can.

Tragedy is idealistic, stubborn and serious. They long for something higher and greater than common existence. They value heroism, hierarchy, and finality.

Comedy is pragmatic, adaptable, and playful. They consider the self, comfortable in their own skin. They’re anti-heroes, valuing situation-based ethics and reversal.

With that out of the way, lets keep to philosophy like it’s a boat in the atlantic. If Dirks look in life upon going ult is one of pessimistic realism, Jake is an absurdist.

If life is a cruel joke to jake, and it has been, then in his ultimate form hes acknowledged it, and given the cruel void, hes decided to seek out his own meaning. And it just so happens to be his best friend.

Misc details

- Capitalist

- He wears old 3D movie glasses because he’s that idiot.

- He collects a lot of things. He has plenty of things hes shot killed and stuffed in his collection.

You could say he’s rather past oriented, taking care to document it all out of interest and perhaps a subconcious pursuit to figure out the future.

- Very apathetic. He may be charming, but he’s still a jackass. He thinks existence itself is funny, he’s an absurdist; but he’s also a guy who realises he’s been kicked to the curb too many times and started shooting people. - His crew consists of John/June, (in place of rose. They have a lot of movie nights!), Karkat, and one (1) dead dave.

And finally some thoughts about ult Dirkjake: Maybe Dirk wants Jake to just kill him. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and perhaps it’s love for someone who deems himself unworthy, no, incapable of doing so. What better love than to kill someone? To trust and know they will kill you. Feeling safe in the knowledge they’ve known you in every universe and are here to kill you. Not that Jake would let him. I like them.. I think it’s my fave brand of dirkjake besides the original.. they’re dysfunctional, intolerable, and they hate each other, but it’s just interesting. For better or for worse, they’re stuck, and they’re not afraid of the fact they suck. If anything, it’d spur them to be worse.

“Oh yeah. I find the other guy fucking annoying and I’d gladly take a moment to rip his guts out and walk him around a tree until they’re all out and he's calling me every bad name he can think of, but if anyone tries doing this shit with him without my consent, I’m going to be hells of more pissed off.”

Look. It’s funny in the way that realistically, they could probably do a lot of damage to everyone else but due to the fact they know the other guy exists, they’re too busy trying to kick the others ankles out and then beating each other up to become dangerous.

Oh you bet your nanny it’s the gayest most fucked up kismesis known to man. Ultimate Dirk hates LE Jake, because he doesn’t give a damn. Because Jake makes him feel things he denies feeling. And that ridiculously, somewhere in paradox space, Jake went ultimate and decided he was going to man up and pursue Dirk to the ends of the universe. Ultimately: “My soul is bound to you in explicable ways. Our bonds cross the multiverse and wherever you are, somewhere I am by your side. Even in a hundred universes, maybe even a million. I will still find you.”

Perhaps the greatest thing and a closing note is that given they are the ascended versions of themselves, they’re aware of the fact that they’re aware of every time the other guy screwed them over, kicked them in the balls, etc. But they’re also able to see everything else. So what’s with a little hatelove eh?

#homestuck meta #dirkjake #ultimate dirk #ultimate jake #homestuck #ultimate rose: ive seen the light and you two either need to get laid or die #jake english #dirk strider #a lot of philosophy/#borzoi talks #borzoi meta

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astronomodome · 5 months

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It’s 3 AM and I’m stressed out so instead of doing boring things like sleeping I’m deciding whether or not I could beat each life series member in a physical fight (c! and cc!). Sorry about the violence idk why my brain thought of this. DISCLAIMER I don’t want to fight any of these people and I don’t wish any harm upon them I’m just delirious 👍 yayy

Rendog

c!: He’s just a guy with dog ears in canon so I wouldn’t be like suuuper fucked but I think I’d still lose. You know he turns up to jazzercise

cc!: Hasn’t he been through enough recently… could I win? Maybe. But I’d be a good sport about it and I’d expect him to do the same should he beat me

Grian

c!: Have you ever tried to fight a bird? Those things are scary. I got chased by a goose once and it was not fun. Yeah this ain’t happening

cc!: You know that one video of Grian demolishing that punching bag? That would be me. Do you want that for me? I don’t

Joel Smallishbeans

c!: I think I could but it would be really close and I’d have to go to the hospital immediately after. Not for fight wounds or anything I just would be worried he’d have given me rabies

cc!: I feel like I would have to fight him and Lizzie at the same time and I don’t think I could take that. Nothing can beat the power of love <3

Scott Smajor

c!: Nah I just lose and he’s judgmental about it too

cc!: LGBT infighting. I would probably lose

BigB

c!: he would win the psychic battle long before the physical battle could even begin

cc!: Man is yoked. I have died

Etho

c!: As soon as I walk up to him he teleports behind me and cuts me in half. Nothing personnel kid

cc!: Lost in the Canadian wilderness trying to track him down, I am mauled by a moose. My corpse becomes a nice meal for some wolves and I am slowly forgotten

Bdubs

c!: I could punt him with ease

cc!: I maybe could but would it really be worth it

Pearl

c!: Ripped apart by hounds so sad. I deserved it

cc!: I can’t afford to fly to Australia. Also even if I could I think she could just throw a bug at me and I would die from the 10,000 poisons that every Australian animal contains

Martyn Inthelittlewood

c!: I lied we’re not fighting I’m leading you out of the endless cycle of violence come with me

cc!: I feel like I would be overconfident going into it and then he would just deck me. Alternatively he could just recite mentally damaging lore facts at me until I fall over and die

Scar from Goodtimes

c!: He immediately engages me in a battle of wits that ends in me paying him to punch me in the face

cc!: I would concede immediately for moral reasons. Maybe we could lightsaber duel instead?

Impulse

c!: He would show up in like full netherite or something. Are these fights happening irl or in minecraft. Doesn’t matter. Either way I am gone. Reduced to ashes

cc!: That is a whole entire human being I think I’d punch him once and then apologize. It would not affect him at all. I don’t think he’d hurt me though

Tango

c!: I might have a chance but the fire hair thing might be a problem

cc!: I think it would somehow turn into a hockey match and given that I have only ice skated twice before and both times ended in me spraining my ankles real bad I don’t think my odds are looking great. He is bald though so there’s always hope

Cleo

c!: I am breakfast. She will eat me

cc!: I don’t think I’d even be able to get the fight set up I think they’d give me a fake address and leave it at that. And I would deserve it

Jimmy Solidarity

c!: We’re both rather pathetic and sad so I think in this case we would just adhere to rule of funny. Whether I win or lose depends on what’s funniest at the time

cc!: The GYM TEACHER?? No.

Skizzleman

c!: Why would I do that

cc!: :( I don’t want to do this anymore. I would lose also that is a whole ass adult man but I think he’d go easy on me so idk

Geminitay

c!: Lol. No.

cc!: I would be beaten instantly cause I’d feel bad about hurting her but honestly I don’t know why this would ever happen. We could be friends <3 sorry is that parasocial

Mumbo Jumbo

c!: I feel like he could outrun me but I could overpower him

cc!: Absolutely no chance, man could bike circles around me. I would be easily run over

Lizzie LDShadowlady

c!: Easily but I’d feel bad about it

cc!: Same as with Joel. I stand no chance against their combo attack

#sillyposting #life series #astro speaks #idk what came over me hope you enjoy my shitpost #trafficblr

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waynewifey · 8 months

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aporia — b.w

part one : dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

sumary: aporia suggests “an impasse”, a knot or an inherent contradiction found in any text, an insuperable deadlock, or “double bind” of incompatible or contradictory meanings which are “undecidable”. [reference]

pairing: battinson/bruce wayne x reader

genre: drama & romance

warnings: mental health struggle, miscarriage, car crash, a lot of internal dialogue

word count: 2k

A/N: the more i write, the more i put myself in this story. i feel like this ‘you’ is so complex i can’t help but try to explain her further. part four will be bruce’s perspective on all of this + an epilogue. i’m so grateful for the amazing feedback given on the last two parts and for the new followers, thank you so so much. i hope you enjoy this. (also this gif??? HELLO???)

GOTHAM. USA.

— bargaining.

the uncomfortable silence makes you want to scream. she told you that was a normal reaction and they couldn't get rid of those moments, they were essential for your self reflection. the problem was being alone with your thoughts, even for just one minute. they keep deciding you won't recover any time soon. everyone keeps holding you like a cracked vase. even negligence was better than being put under the microscope.

"i don't know what you want me to say" you respond, your gaze anxiously shuffling between the objects in the room. the woman's eyes, however, don't ever leave your face. she holds that journal like a scientist analysing a mutation. like you're some weird thing.

"you should say whatever you feel like saying." that's what she always answers. dr. quinn was extremely stoic, even for a therapist. you still liked her, though, because her pragmatic approach helped you shift your point of view and see yourself from an outside perspective, which made you want to help yourself. after weeks of feeling extra irritable, still trying to forgive your husband for lying to you, you realised maybe everything was too much for you to handle by yourself. you wanted to go back to the real world but before that, you had to do this. a quick chat with your psychiatrist and he gave you the contact to harley quinn.

"i think i've been way too mean to bruce" your confession has her nodding, like that observation had been made sessions before and she was waiting for you to realise that. "he's been so supportive and helpful, but sometimes words just fly out of my mouth and i don't even mean them"

"do you think it's easier to blame him than to come to terms with what actually happened?" you can't answer, because this was all you've asked yourself lately. you were a coward, hiding behind his suffering to prevent confronting yours. it's easy to curse him, to reject him, but it's not what you want to do. lately it feels like you don't have any control over your emotions and actions. you thought maybe if you pushed away the last person that still cared for you, you could disappear in your loneliness and finally stop hurting. "y/n you've been through something terrible. the kind of thing we never think it's gonna happen to us. i know it doesn't feel real, but you have to face it that it is. the thing about trauma... you have to keep living with it. you have to keep going, because it doesn't go away. but this is your life and you don't get to stay on standby. you hurt the people you love because it's better than hurting yourself. you told me you feel bad about it, so why won't you change?"

why won't you? you don't even know where to start. it felt comfortable living in sorrow forever. horrible, but comfortable. again, it was in fact easier to blame him than to accept this was reality. but he's right outside, been waiting for you for two hours, as he has done twice a week for over a month. you weren't being fair to him. he didn't deserve this. dr. quinn sees the defeat in your eyes and sighs in a mission accomplished type of breath.

"think about this, okay? we'll talk on friday." you nod, as if you weren't already overthinking it.

bruce sees you before listening to you. he's created the habit to stay in the waiting room with headphones in, blasting loud music. he didn't want you to feel like he was prying on you. he also didn't want to listen anything you had to say about him. you had the right to be mad at him, given everything that had happened. he knew you didn't mean it when you bomb dropped the word 'divorce' every now and then. it would take you some time to get back to normal and he wouldn't rush you.

you walk to the car quietly and get into the driver's seat. he agreed to let you drive to and from therapy. the office was actually in dr. quinn's house, a little bit on the country side of the city, if you could call it that. it was a 50 minute drive with no traffic, roads empty enough for you to drift off in you thoughts. he watches you drive, eyes brightening up a little more everyday. he realised that trying to shield you from the world wasn't going to work out. you need to learn how to be on your own. he needs to learn how to care for you while away.

"i'm sorry," you caught him off guard, observing the curves of your face. he frowns at the unexplained sentence. you glance at him but look back at the road. "for the way i've been acting. for pushing you away. for being too complicated. i know you're trying to help… thank you for staying."

"darling, of course. for better or for worse, remember? i'm never leaving you. we're getting through this, together. and don't you worry about me, i'll be okay when you are too, alright? you're doing great, i can see how much you're working towards it." he holds out a hand for you and you take it, intertwining your fingers. his calloused palms are softer now, courtesy of the months without batman-ing. they still embrace yours entirely and warm the cold tips of your fingers.

"i love you" the sweetness of that feeling dominates your tastebuds and it's almost like the day you started dating. that innocent type of love that consist of the pure enjoyment of each others company. however, your attempt to savour the moment is ruined by a shape in your peripheral eyesight.

"i love you too" bruce's voice is muffled by the anxious thoughts taking over your mind. the panic starts to overflow. he notices your body getting stiff and the wheel looking loose on your hand. your breathing lost it's rhythm to creaking gasps. there's something wrong. your eyes are frozen in a vehicle. he's seen this van before. maybe not this one, but an identical one, in a security camera tape in court. it looks exactly like the one that took you. "baby, hey, hey. i'm right here." you don't pay any mind to the man beside you. you can't, not when your instincts are telling you to run. not when you can feel the gun getting knocked on your head over and over again. bruce is saying something. the tears are blurring your sight. this is too much.

he's calling you screaming at this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you still haven't looked away from the van. there's a bump coming up, the car is dangerously fast and you're not driving at all. he goes for the wheel but isn't quick enough. the tires wiggle, going in their own direction. the car changes lanes, getting in the wrong way of the street. another car is coming and the impact isn't light. your head is thrown forwards, the airbag covering your face. the windshield shatters and little pieces of glass get stuck in your hair. the crash isn't too bad, you're both still awake and only the front has been smashed. but you get out hyperventilating, falling onto the ground and weeping.

bruce gets out as well, only a scratch on the forehead. he has to kneel on the dirt to hold you up. for a while, he doesn't say anything. the other driver is standing, phone in the ear. he's also fine. the cars were the only damage. two other drivers stop by, offering help. you wish he could help you, but it seems as if there's something inherently wrong with you.

— depression.

the weeks following the accident were harsh. it took a while to get you believing in recovery again. you still weren't sure. somehow there was press at the site, so pictures of you crying next to a car crash made it to the papers. there's minor commentary online about you faking it for your husbands popularity. most of the netizens feel desperately sorry for you and have painted you to be their new princess diana, the comparison seems wild to you.

you only go online every three days or so, because you can't resist the urge to know what bruce hasn't been telling you. jokes on you, he's actually been a lot more transparent lately. you agreed that the batman would show up to the sentence of edward nashton, to pressure the jury with his presence. it worked and the criminal got life without parole. the lawyers said that your public presence impacted on his trial, as 20 years was the standard. you were just glad he wouldn't do that to anybody else ever again. the case got national and your family from outside the state, that you not-so-kindly kept in the dark, started making contact, victimising you all over again.

but things were getting better, gradually. it had been almost a year and it felt like that chapter of your life was finally being finished. you were trying to get your life back, including your driver's license. it was suspended for a while after the accident, so now you had to submit a bunch of medical records to prove that you were mentally fine to drive again. that's how you found yourself in bruce's home office, searching everywhere for your documents. you could've asked him where he put it, but he had just fallen asleep in the living room and you didn't want to disturb him.

in one of the desk's drawers, you find a folder with the local hospital logo on it. you open it, shuffling through the papers you've seen before. only one stands out, with "ob/gyn" on the top of the sheet. you wonder if there's anything helpful there. your eyes start reading the words one by one, listing the examinations they've done on you. the subject changes abruptly.

the ultrasound analysis reports the miscarriage of an unknown pregnancy to the patient's spouse.

you feel like you're about to throw up. the world starts spinning as you force yourself to continue to read.

the fetus was estimated to be in the development stage of the beginning of the second trimester. the miscarriage was most likely a result of several mechanical trauma. dilation and curettage was performed with the patient in a medically induced coma.

you try to remember to breathe in and breathe out just like dr. quinn taught you. you expect the tears but they don't come out. the panic doesn't come. it's suddenly so quiet. it's not like a hole has been punched through your chest, it's like you have no chest at all. it's like you don't even exist. you somehow sit down, your body does. you feel as if it's moving on it's own and you're just watching from afar. your thoughts sound so distant, so irrelevant. you can only think of the baby that had once been inside of you and you didn't even realised. you didn't have the time to love him. you've had him there, right there, the thing you wanted the most in the world and he was taken from you. everything was taken from you.

if a tree falls on a forest, and there's no one around to hear, does it still make a sound? it felt like your fall was silent.

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just-wrting · 11 months

Text

Can't Take the Hint

Title: Can't Take the Hint

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You're having a hard time rejecting guys, thankfully the one you're into helps you out.

Warnings: Creepy guy and smut

Word Count: 2,826

Master List

A/N: This was meant to have more scenes in it, but I've opted to save those ideas for another time. This is also only my third time writing smut so I hope it's not that bad.

“I don’t know Dave. Asking them out seems like a bad idea.”

You hear Hotch’s voice even through the closed door. You want to linger and listen, but there’s a new case. Instead, you knock gently on Rossi’s office door. Within a few seconds, it swings open and Hotch is standing in front of you.

“Garcia said she’s got a case and to come get you guys,” you say. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“No, we were just finishing up. In fact, I’ll walk with you if that’s okay?” Hotch moves toward you, and you back up.

“Sure. Though I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Rossi later. I have some guy trouble that I want his advice on.”

For a split second, he frowns. It’s so quick you think you’re imagining it. You study his face intently, wondering if it was just a trick of the light. There’s no reason that he would be upset about you having guy troubles. He’s just your boss, nothing more.

“Rossi’s advice may not be great, he does have multiple divorces. I could help you.”

“That’s actually why I’d like to talk to him about it. He’s gotten used to rejection.”

You give him a soft smile. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything. You know his offer still stands if you ever need to talk to him. He’s a great boss, and you’re grateful to him for being there for you when you need it.

You do your best to pay attention as Hotch and Garcia present your next case. A couple of bodies turned up in a forest on the west coast, and the local police had no idea how they got there. They all showed various stages of decay, indicating that they had been there for a different amount of time each.

“Well, the ME states the body that had been there the longest was there for about a year. Given that there are six bodies in that area that puts us at a murder every two months,” Emily says while placing her tablet down.

“So either he’s doing something to them that takes about two months, or he’s being extra careful.” Rossi rubs his chin.

Reid leans back in his chair. “Based on the ME’s report of the most recent body, he’s most likely torturing his victims for about a month.”

“Great. Cause that’s what we need to be doing, scouring the missing persons reports for a person that could be joining the body pile,” you groan.

Granted, Garcia is lightning-fast and great at sifting through things like that, but you still think it’ll take forever. This is shaping up to be one of those cases that just takes time. Time that you don’t have to be wasting on dead ends and possibilities.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Be prepared for long days.”

—

It’s been over an hour and everyone is just lost in thought. Occasionally someone will throw out an idea, but without doing more interviews and crime scene analysis, there isn’t much to discuss. You take the opportunity to slide into a seat across from Rossi.

“Mind if I ask you some stuff? Take your mind off the case for a second?” you ask. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

Rossi gives you a smile. “Sure thing, kid. What else is someone with as much wisdom as I, supposed to do?”

You relax muscles you didn’t realize were tense. “Besides helping others out, I’m not too sure. So there’s this guy, I see him all the time since he goes to the same breakfast place as I do, and he asked me out.”

Rossi nods. “And you aren’t sure if that’s a good choice?”

“Actually, I know it’s a bad choice. Since the day before I’d seen him with another girl. They’re obviously a thing so I told him no. The problem is that now he won’t leave me alone. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Rossi reaches out to grab your hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze and makes sure to look into your eyes.

“Kid, you didn’t do anything wrong. A man like that is just plain creepy and probably won’t take the hint until you tell him there’s another man you're with. If you need us to, I’m sure Hotch or Morgan will gladly help you play pretend to get him to leave you alone. We’re here to help each other.”

You slowly nod. You really didn’t think you’d actually encounter one of those guys that give off the same energy that serial stalkers have, but you did. Not to mention, it was while you weren't working.

“You’re right. I’ll give it some thought during the case, but for now, that’s what needs our attention. Let’s just hope things go better than they usually do.”

—

Things are not going better than they usually do. Hotch paired you with him and Morgan to go to the crime scene which wouldn’t have been an issue if it wasn’t for the constant drizzle that had started well before you had landed. Nothing says ‘a great day for a walk in the woods’ like rain.

You watch as an officer slips slowly down the hill to reach where the last body was found. The whole area was slick with mud. It’d probably be fun if you were a young boy in your own backyard but as an agent hoping to get an idea of what this dump site looked like in its horrible prime, not so fun.

The rain picks up and you duck under a tree. Hotch joins you while Morgan chuckles.

“I’ll go get the umbrellas from the SUV since you two must be made of sugar. Don’t start without me.”

Shortly after Morgan walks off, another officer approaches you. He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

“You must be Agent Hotchner and Agent (L/N),” he says while giving you a large smile. “Do you need an umbrella? I have one in the car.”

“Oh no thanks. Agent Morgan is returning with the ones he went to get. I can see him now.”

The officer’s smile wavers, but stays firm on his face. “Well, (L/N), I’m Officer Mike Morris. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know right away and I’ll help you.”

With that, the officer leaves. Hotch looks at you with an odd look on his face. You can’t quite place the emotion that’s behind his eyes.

“Here’s the umbrella. You two can share it because I’m not letting (L/N) pull me down into the mud.”

Morgan gets a head start down the hill. You watch him complete the task with ease, and you can’t help but be a bit envious. Sure you can take down grown men, but Morgan makes most physical feats look easy.

“(Y/N)?” Hotch’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You do know that if you need anything, both on the case and off the case, you can talk to me, right?”

His hand rests on your shoulder. You give him a smile and start to head down the slope.

“Of course. You’re my go-to person if I need something, Hotch. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

—

It’s the next day, and you’re sitting at the table staring down a pile of paper. It’s early in the morning, and you think you’d kill for a cup of coffee right about now. Unfortunately, you got up early and were one of the first in the office. That means that there was no coffee for you to have and you have to wait for some to brew.

A sudden knock on the doorway startles you. You whirl around to find Officer Mike Morris standing in the doorway.

“I see you’re into mornings, just like I am. Figured you would want a cup of coffee.”

He sets down a cup of lukewarm coffee. You watch as the liquid settles and realize that the color is off. It won’t taste the way you like it, but you do your best to take a sip. You’re right. It’s not how you’d like it.

“(Y/N)? You left early today so I brought you coffee and breakfast. I hope that’s okay.”

Hotch walks into the room holding a tray of coffee and a to-go bag. He briefly looks at Officer Morris before looking at you.

“Thanks! What did you get me?”

A soft smile spreads across Hotch’s face. He sets the coffee tray down and pulls one of the cups out. You carefully read the label on the cup. It’s made just the way you like. As you take a sip, you feel the caffeine send tingles to your brain and you start to wake up.

“And breakfast?”

Hotch pulls a muffin out of the bag and hands it to you. You're quite grateful for the snack. Nothing says FBI breakfast like coffee and a pastry.

“Thank Hotch. I got up pretty early so I didn’t have a chance of getting food.”

You bury your face back into the papers, ignoring the men. You can feel the tension in the room though. They seem to be locked in some sort of silent fight, over what you can’t tell. A fight over ruining your train of thought is possible, but you can’t imagine that making you useless was a great idea.

“Well, (L/N), I’ll see you later. Don't be a stranger,” Officer Morris says before leaving.

—

“Oh, I call shotgun!” You say as you open the passenger door.

Hotch slides into the driver's seat. “As long as you don’t touch the radio we’ll be fine.”

Before the two of you can leave the parking lot, there’s a knock on your window. Hotch is quick to lock the doors. You frown when you see it’s Officer Morris. He seems to be everywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t fit the preliminary profile, you’d assume he was the unsub.

Rolling down the window, you ask, “ Was there something you needed, Officer Morris?”

“I heard you were headed to see the Willows and I figured I should come with. They’re grumpy and old so they don’t take well to strangers. I actually happen to know them quite well and am off duty now.”

You glance at Hotch, unsure of how you should shut Officer Morris down. Hotch’s mouth is drawn in a thin line and his eyes are cold. You can practically feel the irritation coming off him and you turn your gaze to the clock. Staring at the time seems like a better choice.

“I think (Y/N) and I will be fine. We’re both highly capable agents who’ve dealt with difficult people.”

Morris smiles tightly. “I’m sure (L/N) is an exceptional agent, but I can assure you that these aren’t your ordinary grumpy old people. We got a call once that Mr. Willow tried to shoot the mailman when he got too close.”

You hear the leather squeak as Hotch’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. He’s getting far more than irritated. In fact, you’d venture to say he was getting pissed. It wasn’t hard to tell why. Morris is wasting your time.

“Aaron is a more capable agent than I am!” you blurt out. “So if you don’t mind, we’ll be off. Serial killers don’t wait around for us to find our clues.”

You let Hotch roll up your window and drive off. As soon as you start rolling, you see him relax.

“Man, he just won’t let up. Is there something I’m missing?” you ask.

“If he gives you any more trouble, I’ll take care of it.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Of course.”

—

It finally hits you once Morris grabs your wrist. His grip is tight. You shake your hand a couple of times, but he still holds fast.

“I’ve been hoping that I could get a chance to talk to you alone, (Y/N). I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner.”

The whole time you had been here, Morris was hitting on you. You pride yourself on being able to read people, but you admit that your ability to spot romance is a bit lacking. Unfortunately, you have zero interest in going out with Morris. Not only is he being quite rude at the moment, but you had no intention of going long distance. Not to mention your lingering feelings for someone else.

“Well, given that we still haven’t caught the killer, I’ll have to decline. There’s no time to waste.”

His grip tightens even more before he releases you. His eyes are dark and he’s sporting a tight frown.

“Does Agent Hotchner not let you date?”

You stare at him in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Is Agent Hotchner interfering with your personal life? Does he dictate whether or not his team members can date?”

You shake your head. “No, he doesn't. This is a personal choice. I’d rather not go to dinner with you when I have a serial killer to catch.”

Morris says nothing, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. His animosity toward Hotch confuses you. You don’t bother trying to understand it, however. There isn’t anything about this guy that is making sense.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to my team. If you need anything, feel free to contact one of them.”

With that, you turn and walk back to the main room. You want nothing more than to have someone tell him off, but you opt not to mention anything. The team has other things to worry about.

—

Once again, Morris has done his best to ask you out. This time making the mistake of asking in front of Hotch. The tension in the room grows thick, and you feel uncomfortable. You can see Hotch seething.

“I don’t think-“

You’re cut off by Hotch. “You are to leave (Y/N) alone for the rest of this case, Officer Morris.”

His voice is icy. There’s a vein popping in his forehead and his hand is tight on the file. There’s no one else in the room to stop the fight that’s about to break out.

“(Y/N) doesn’t need to date whoever you approve of Hotchner. You’d be stepping out of your boundaries by making that choice.”

Hotch strides over to where you’re standing. He tosses the file onto the desk next to you and grabs your face. Within milliseconds, he’s pulled you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and you let his tongue enter your mouth you can faintly taste blood. He’s passionate about it. One hand reaches around to the back of your head to keep you in place. There’s more force than necessary, and you feel yourself growing light-headed.

You don’t know how long he’s kissing you for, seconds or minutes, and it doesn’t matter. He’s set a fire inside of you and you find yourself whining when he pulls away. He’s careful to keep you close though.

“If you don’t mind, Officer Morris, (Y/N) and I will be leaving.”

—

Aaron pins one of your legs up against your body with the other wrapping around his waist. Your ankle is behind his head and you feel sweat fall from his brow.

“Why didn’t you tell him off sooner?”

You can’t answer his question with anything but a moan. You arch your back as he continues to pound you. Your body craves him and you feel delirious. The only thing you can think about is the way he’s making you feel.

“I could’ve done more to you in that office, but he doesn’t deserve to see you like that.”

Each thrust of his hips punctuates his statement. You can’t even tell what he’s saying though. The only thing on your mind is him. The way he’s filling you up. The way he feels inside of you. The way that each thrust hits that sweet spot makes you moan.

“A-Aaron!” you cry out.

His lips press harshly against yours. With one final thrust, you come undone. Your fingers grip his bicep tightly as you cum and you feel your legs tremble. You’ve been doing this for hours, and you’ve lost count of how many times that was.

When he pulls away, his face is soft. There’s no more anger or jealousy hidden in his eyes and a smile is slowly spreading across his face.

“You aren’t hurt are you?”

You giggle and shake your head. “Just a little out of practice for this. I’ll be a bit sore later but otherwise fine.”

His next kiss is soft and tender. You relish the fact that you’re spending the night with him.

“Good because when we get back to D.C. I’ll have to show you a different side of this. Perhaps after dinner?”

You let your eyes flutter closed. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch smut

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moonrisecoeur · 5 months

Note

pls expand on the daddy kink thing i’m begging you

YES OF COURSE BBY!!

fem reader. this isn’t technically afab but was written from that perspective.

leon is beyond embarrassed. try mortified. when you’d said you had a daddy kink, he thought you meant the other way around. like, the normal way. which didn’t really make sense given the track record of other things you like, but he didn’t really think that far. he was expecting to try this once, to cringe just a little bit internally when you call him that and then say it just ‘wasn’t for him’.

and then you tell him, “it’s not me who’s gonna be calling someone daddy.”

and of course you buffer that with things like ‘but only if you’re comfortable with it!’ and ‘you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do!’ but it all goes in one ear and out the other and all leon can think about is you want him to call you daddy. he’s distraught.

you want to humiliate him, clearly. clearly you’re not asking for this because you want to assume some sort of paternal role in your relationship, you’re asking this because you know it hurts his ego to call his girlfriend something so powerful, so masculine. and he knows you like it.

he would have thought you’d want to be called mommy, which is something he could more easily get behind. not that he wants to think of you as his mother, but that’s more appropriate, isn’t it? why would you want to be called a name so manly? he can’t make sense of it.

he agrees to try it once, once, because he can’t not give you what you want when you look at him with those pleading puppy eyes. evil.

after making out for a little bit, kissing and biting his lips, enjoying the low groans that escape him when your bites get a little too aggressive, you decide it’s time. he already seems a little dazed, when would be more perfect?

“can you say it?” you ask softly, knowing you’ll have to be patient with him, coax it out of him.

he looks away, shyly, and you catch the way his heartbeat picks up. he’s nervous, clearly. you’re not sure if that’s a bad thing yet.

“…daddy,” he whispers. he does in fact, cringe at the sound of his voice like he thought he would. his face is red, his heart is pounding. god he’s pretty when he’s embarrassed. he wishes he could take it back for just a moment, he wishes he could find a way out of this experience so he could die peacefully. he knows he realistically could, that you could stop at any time, but something prevents him from doing so.

it’s the shift in your demeanor that catches his attention. he finally makes eye contact with you after a painful could seconds of silence.

the soft, loving girlfriend he adores and treasures is locked away right now, and he’s left with a side of you he hasn’t experienced yet. you feel like a different person.

“god, leon, if you- if you keep saying it like that…”you groan, more than satisfied. can’t even bother to finish your thoughts, “say it again.”

he shivers at the tone in your command, “daddy… wait i- uhm-”

you stop. you’re waiting for the words that are going to crush your soul. can we stop? this is weird and i don’t want to do this anymore. you’re weird for liking this. you know leon’s too kind to say it like that, but you worry that’s what he thinks.

but he’s always full of surprises.

“please, daddy… please,” he whimpers, eyes closed in his embarrassment, and your concentration breaks for a moment. it’s confusing, but it’s also invigorating, intoxicating.

“oh, fuck, leon,” you groan, “you can’t beg me like that…”

“what..? why not?”

you take a moment to appreciate how pretty he looks under you, that word escaping his pretty lips as he begs, “because i will ruin you, until that’s all you can do: beg for daddy to fuck you.”

he swallows dryly, his heart pounding in his chest. he’s still far beyond embarrassed, and he would be horrified if anyone heard or saw what was happening. he would rather die than face the world that knows he’s getting off on calling his girlfriend daddy when it theoretically should be the other way around. but you’re not theoretical. far from it.

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 6 months

Text

Old Friends (pt. 2)

Max Cooperman x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral female receiving, dom max, underage drinking, underage smoking, rough sex, drunkish sex, pretty smutty guys you are warned

summary: after what happened between you and max, you can’t stop thinking about it… but he hasn’t called you since. whats gonna happen when you go back for a much smaller gathering?

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i’m finally back after like 4 months… hope this was worth the wait ;)

~~~

Your heart is racing. You’re in the back of Baja’s car. You, her, and Jake just pulled into Max’s driveway. It’s been two weeks since the Fourth of July party, two weeks since you’ve seen or heard from Max. You’ve been waiting for him to reach out, for him to tell you he doesn’t regret it and that he wants to see you again. But he hasn’t. You know he’s changed; you should’ve seen it coming, but it still hurts you that he was so willing to throw away your entire friendship for a one-time thing.

“Y/N? Come on, we’ve been sitting here for like five minutes get moving,” Baja says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You nod and get out of her car. Did Max know they brought you to this hangout? Baja told you it was just going to be like the old days again. However, you doubt it’ll be like old times given what happened. The four of you were going to get crossed and watch movies. Max’s parents weren’t home again, so you guys are going to have the place to yourselves. You’d be excited if you weren’t already so nervous.

You follow Jake and Baja to Max’s door; you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, your stomach is full of nervous butterflies. You wish you didn’t agree to come. The only reason you did was because if you didn’t, Baja would’ve suspected something happened between you and Max. She already knew you hooked up with a guy at the party, but you refused to tell her who. You felt bad lying to your best friend, but it’s better this way. You didn’t want anyone to know about what Max considers to be that one mistake, it would make things awkward. So, you kept it secret.

After a few seconds of standing at the front door, Max opens it wide. He greets you all with a warm smile, but you can see the way his eyes shift when they meet yours. All you can think about is the way those same dark eyes looked into yours in his car, it’s all you’ve thought about for the past two weeks. But now, seeing him in front of you, makes it ten times worse. You regret coming.

“Finally, you guys are late,” Max says.

Jake pats Max’s shoulders and laughs. “Sorry, Baja took forever as usual to get ready. Then we had to get y/n too. But we made it.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in,” Max replied, pushing Jake inside.

“Nice to see you again Max.” Baja smiles and follows Jake in.

Max’s eyes meet yours again as you slowly enter. You don’t know if you’re glad or upset at the fact that he doesn’t say anything to you. It doesn’t matter. You brush it off and follow Jake and Baja into the living room. Max already set a few bottles of alcohol on the coffee table along with some cups. The sight makes you happier than ever. You jump onto the couch and start to look more specifically at each of the bottles.

“Jesus, you already want to get drunk?” Baja asks with a small chuckle.

You look back at her and nod. “Hell yeah, the last time I drank was here and that was too weeks ago.”

You set on the bottle of pink lemonade Smirnoff; it has the highest percentage of alcohol on the table. You unscrew the top and pour yourself a shot. Baja and Jake sit on the couch and start to look at the bottles as well. Without another thought, you take the shot. You love the way it burns your throat, but you hate the sweet aftertaste it leaves. However, it’s a perfect distraction from the boy who’s now sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“What are we watching?” Jake questions the group.

“I was thinking horror,” Baja answers.

“That’s fine,” Max agrees.

Their eyes turn to you. You simply nod.

“Great, let’s get this going,” Jake says as he grabs the remote.

You glance at Max again and see he’s already looking at you, a strange look in his eyes. You quickly avert your eyes. It’s going to be a long night.

~~~

After the first movie, all of you are drunk. You lost count of how many shots you took, and you have no idea how many times you hit Max’s bong. This was the first time in two weeks you weren’t worrying about what your status with him was, so in simple terms, you felt amazing.

Baja is passed out on Jake’s shoulder, Jake is trying his best to find another movie to play, and Max is lying back on the couch with his eyes closed. You know he’s not asleep because every couple of minutes he speaks. You don’t want to think about how many times already this night you’ve looked at him. You feel ashamed, it’s as though you can’t keep your eyes off him. It’s awful.

“Guys I think I’m gonna pass out,” Jake says. He stands up, stumbling a bit. “Can we crash in one of your guest rooms?”

“Of course, just don’t fuck too loud. The walls are very thin,” Max replies, his eyes still closed.

“Noted.”

Jake picks up Baja carefully in bridal style and starts to walk out of the living room and down one of the halls. You giggle as you see him stumble into a wall slightly. When you turn back to the TV. the realization hits you. Now that they’re gone it’s just you and Max... alone. If it weren’t for all the alcohol and weed, you’d be freaking out right now. You’re able to keep your composure though, deep down you’re nervous something awkward will happen.

You grab the remote, trying your best to be quiet and not make Max open his eyes. You almost succeed, but just as you settle back into your spot away from him, he sits up. He turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes for the millionth time that night.

“Are you putting something on?” He asks, his voice alone making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“Yeah, if that’s okay,” you reply.

He slightly nods. “Go ahead.”

You pick the first movie you see and settle into your spot more, pulling a blanket over your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Max is watching you and every so often he shifts just a little bit, making the space between the two of you smaller and smaller. You try your hardest to keep your attention on the screen, but once Max is only a foot away from you, you can’t take it any longer.

You look at him, annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just enjoying the movie like you are,” he answers casually.

“No- I mean...” You struggle to find the words, the alcohol still affecting you. You shake your head and stand up. “Never mind, I’m going to bed.”

You begin to turn but Max grabs your wrist. You swear it’s as though his hand is an electric fence. Tingles travel throughout your body at his touch. You instantly turn your head and look down at him, the memories of the last time he did this replay through your head. His eyes are dark, they look the same as they did in his car moments before everything went down. You don’t know what to think of it.

“Stay,” he mumbles.

“Why? You clearly aren’t interested in me,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have even come tonight I’m so stupid.”

“What makes you think that? Do you not remember what I said to you the last time we saw each other? You’re the one who hasn’t called me since the party,” he says.

You shake your head again. “You never called me. I waited and waited and didn’t get a single word. If you wanted it to just be a one-night stand you could’ve told me that before I left because then you would’ve spared me all those hours waiting for a simple fucking call.”

“Woah hold on. I was waiting for you to call me,” he replies.

The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds. You’re confused. Was all of this just a misunderstanding? Had he really been waiting for you to make the first move? From the way he’s staring up at you, you believe what he said. Part of you feels guilty, you shouldn’t have simply expected him to contact you first.

“I’m sorry I just thought that you were going to call me,” you apologize.

Max moves his thumb across your wrist, you almost shiver. “I’m sorry too. I really wanted to see you again all those days.”

“You did?”

Your heart begins to race as it did mere hours ago, but this time for a completely different reason. He continues to move his thumb on your skin, the simple contact making the pit of your stomach fill with that familiar warmth and your panties begin to dampen.

“Of course, I did. You’re all I can think about. I know I said I wouldn’t care if it was only that one time, but I lied. I need it again, I need you again,” he says.

He pulls your wrist gently, guiding you back onto the couch next to him. You don’t object. When he leans closer to you, you don’t dare move. His lips are only inches from yours now, his other hand gripping yours tightly. You’ve never wanted another person more than you want Max right now.

“Can I have you again?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, you’re too lost in the way he’s looking at you to speak.

“I need to hear it y/n, use your words,” he whispers.

“I’ve been yours to have Max, and I think it’s going to stay that way for a while,” you reply, so quietly a person a foot away from you wouldn’t even be able to hear.

“Good, because I’m going to want you again, and again, and again...”

Your lips meet, and you feel that same spark flow throughout your body. You kiss him hard, your hands instantly finding their way to his soft curls. He reciprocates in all the right ways. His hands move to your breasts, your waist, your neck... caressing, fondling, and pleasing every inch of you that they touch. You can’t get enough of it.

He slowly lays you down on the couch after a few minutes, his body filling the space between your legs instantly. You fight back moans as his lips begin to travel down your neck, sucking the spots he quickly learns drive you insane. One of his hands finds the bottom of your shirt and he starts to pull it up.

“No, what if Jake or Baja come out?” You question. His lips are still on your neck, it takes everything inside you to not make a noise. “Max?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch, just wait a minute,” he answers, his breath tickling your neck.

You trust him, so you simply close your eyes and let the feeling of his rough hands on your bare stomach take over. He lifts your shirt up enough to expose your breasts, you aren’t wearing a bra. You sigh as he kneads one of your breasts in his hand. His hands are so big, so rough, so warm. He pinches your nipple, making you squirm. You were surprised the first time by his dominance, Max always used to be a follower. But now he seems even more dominant, it only makes the wetness in your panties grow.

You let him pull your shirt over your head, you let him throw it on the floor, you even let him suck your nipples out in this open area. The thought of Baja or Jake walking out and seeing the two of you like this excites you, though you know it shouldn’t. It’s wrong, and if you were caught, you’d face major consequences. You don’t think about that though, in fact, you don’t think at all at this moment.

Max pulls back and takes off his shirt. Your eyes travel up and down his torso, his body still receiving that same surprised reaction from you. You press one of your hands onto his chest, your fingers move down his body slowly. He’s so warm, so inviting. He leans back over you and captures your lips in another kiss.

You continue to move your hand down his body till you reach the waistband of his shorts. You can feel how hard he is through his clothes; it almost makes you squirm. You move your other hand down and pull at his remaining clothing. He doesn’t object, and in a matter of seconds, his shorts and boxers are on the floor. A soft moan leaves his lips as you gently wrap a hand around his hard cock and stroke.

“God, I need you,” he mumbles against your lips. The tone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

He leans back so he’s kneeling on the couch and begins to unbutton your shorts. You lift your hips as he drags them down your body, kicking them off once they reach your ankles. A woman in the movie screams just as Max begins to play with your soaking cunt. You’re glad, because the second his fingers find your clit, your silence is over. You practically whimper at the sensation. He toys with you for a few moments, making your toes curl when he finds that perfect spot inside you with his fingertips.

“Max,” you moan, one of your hands gripping his wrist. “I’m close.”

He removes his hand instantly and your eyes shoot open, what is he doing? You’re about to say something but that’s when he starts moving down the couch. You watch his head fall between your legs. His eyes meet yours as he sticks out his tongue and tastes you for the first time tonight. A soft sigh escapes your lips, your head falls back on the couch.

Barely five have passed by the time you feel your orgasm approaching again. Something about the way Max is so willing to go down on you makes you so much more turned on. You don’t say anything, you don’t have the time because before you can speak, you’re already falling apart on his tongue. You cover your mouth with your hand, your body shakes as you cum.

He stops a few seconds before you’re overstimulated and returns to his kneeling position between your legs. Before you even catch your breath, he grabs your hips and flips you over onto your stomach. He pulls your hips, so your ass is in the air. You arch your back, half on your own, half from his hand that moves up to your lower back and pushes down so you bend more. It hurts, but you can’t get enough of it.

“Are you good with no condom again?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

You feel the tip of his cock line up with your entrance, it makes goosebumps appear on your skin. This is the moment you’ve been craving for two weeks. As he slowly begins sliding inside of you, you gasp. He stretches you almost to the point of it being painful. You bite down on your arm to keep yourself from screaming from the pleasure. You hear Max softly moan, the sound of his raspy voice making you clench around him.

“Be quiet baby, like I said the walls are very thin,” he says. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. It only turns you on more.

He begins his slow thrusts, the pace both agonizing and glorifying at the same time. You want more, you need more. But you know he’s doing it to taunt you, to hear you beg him for more, so you bite your tongue. Max must realize you’re on to him because he slows down even more, not even going all the way in. It hurts, and not in the way you want it to. You give in.

“Faster Max, harder Max, stop fucking me like I’m some untouched virgin,” you whisper.

He laughs. “You’re the first girl to insult me while my dick is inside you.”

You look over your shoulder and can’t help the smile that takes over your face. It was almost like you forgot it was Max you were having sex with. The same Max that you used to make fun of for being a virgin, the same Max you used to have to convince your parents wasn’t gay. He’s not a stranger, no matter how much his appearance changes he’s always going to be your best friend Max.

“Just fuck me please, before they come out here for water,” you reply after a few seconds.

“Your wish is my command.”

Max rams his hips into yours so hard it hurts. You moan, too loud for your liking. Neither of you say anything about it though, you’re too caught up in the moment. He fucks you rough, his skin slapping yours at an incredibly fast pace. You bury your face in the couch, your hands gripping the couch hard. He hits that spot inside you with every thrust, each time he hits it making you closer and closer to finishing.

He places one of his hands on your shoulder and pulls you back, so his dick moves even deeper inside you. You can’t help the loud whine that leaves your lips. The pain is almost unbearable. Almost. He lets go of your shoulder after a few thrusts and instead slaps your ass. All these sensations drive you crazy, blurring your mind and your body.

“Max I-I'm close,” you whimper after a few more minutes.

“Me too baby, me too,” he replies, his breath ragged.

When you finish, your entire body shakes, and you struggle to keep yourself up. Max finishes only a few seconds after you, his dick pulsing hard inside of you. Once you’re both finished, he pulls out and you fall from your position. Your heart is beating rapidly, your face is flushed, you can barely breathe. You’ve never experienced sex so rough in your life. And you can’t believe how much you enjoy it.

Max lays down next to you, covering your naked bodies with a blanket. You just stare at the TV. as the credits for the movie start to play, your breath finally catching up with you.

“If Jake and Baja ask about the noise, do you just wanna tell them it was a movie we had on really loud?” Max eventually asks.

You chuckle and turn your body to face him. “No, let’s just tell them we were having incredibly rough and loud sex.”

“Are you serious?”

You chuckle again. “Obviously not. We can’t tell them anything about this unless we start dating, but I doubt that will happen.”

“Why do you doubt that?”

“Well, I mean, I’m gonna be leaving the state again and you’ll be back at your school. I wouldn’t want to hold you back from all the girls who’ve been missing what I just experienced,” you explain.

“Well, I don’t want any other guy to touch you like that,” he says, his words causing you to blush.

“Is long distance really something you’d want to do? We wouldn’t be able to do this until the holidays you know.”

“I know, but that’s what’ll keep it special. Imagine how good it’ll be after months of not doing it. But it’s not even just about the sex, I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since like junior year,” he reveals.

You smile. “If you want to try then so do I, but I want it to actually work out. I don’t want to break up and then have the friend group split. I want it to last.”

He wraps his arm around you and pulls your body against his. “I think it’ll last.”

You couldn’t agree more.

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all-mirth-no-matter · 1 year

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Eight

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Chapters two through seven from Tommy’s POV.

Warning: language, smoking, war mention(ish), PTSD mention(ish), suicide thought, ethnic slur

Side Note: Taking some liberties with some of the back and pre-pilot stories, as well as some of the stuff we just don’t know (Harry’s backstory and involvement in the war, as an example). Just go with it lol.

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter Eight: Devil Inside Me

There’s a devil inside of me, and he’s holding on. And I don’t know if he’s staying, or for how long. Pulling at my heart-strings, kicking in my mind. And I’m sad to say he’s got me thinking, about the bad parts of my life. — Devil Inside Me, Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes

Tommy was a dead man, walking through a life he knew he shouldn’t be walking, breathing an air that he shouldn’t be breathing. The realization that he hadn’t in fact died, or that he was actually going to go home, hadn’t even set in until hours after he stepped out of the train station the day they all came home.

Well, not all of them came home. The faces of those he left with, who he fought with, who hadn’t been “as lucky” as him were always there, flashing just behind his eyelids with each blink.

Ghosts of a fate that should have been his.

He knew he wasn’t the same Tommy Shelby who’d left those handful of years ago. None of the men who were returning with him were. He could see it in Polly’s eyes the moment she saw them — a relief that was immediately replaced with a new coat of worry.

Looking around as he stepped off the train, he was surrounded by men of all ages embracing their loved ones, crying, weeping. He watched John cradle his wife’s face as he kiss her, his children surrounding his legs. He watched Ada hug Arthur, then Freddie, before pulling him in for an extra tight hug. Tommy should have felt that same level of relief that he could see on his brothers and best mate’s faces, to be walking on English soil.

But he still felt like a dead man. And it was all because of her.

The first face Tommy saw as he stepped off the train was hers — the same face he saw while he laid in the mud. Another ghost, standing amongst the sea of people.

The girl seemed just as surprised to see him as he’d been, and in a moment she was dropping her head and turning to leave. Tommy started to move forward faster, determined to reach her before she disappeared again. But by the time he breached the crowd in front of him, she was gone, and the cries of welcome from Polly, Ada, Finn, Martha, and John’s kids pulled him out of his odd trance. But still, in the back of his mind he wrestled with whether she’d really been there in the flesh this time, or if she were just another vision.

Riding back into Birmingham, into Small Heath, and then walking down Watery Lane felt like a dream. His brothers and mates wanted to go to the Garrison first thing, but Tommy just wasn’t ready. After years of living in the trenches, the world around him felt very loud, very crowded, and he just needed a moment of peace in his old bedroom.

Polly had kept his room the same as when he left. The clothes and sheets were recently washed, she’d told them on their way in. Tommy wondered if he could even fit in those old clothes of his anymore, instead choosing to pull out a shirt to sleep in from his luggage, breathing in the familiar scent.

As he dug around further in his bag, he found the medals they’d given him. Acts of heroism and gallantry, the voices of those who’d presented them to him echoed through his mind as he scoffed. He picked them up and threw them in a drawer, then laid down on his bed. A few minutes later, he sat up and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He could hear the cheers outside, the music, the merriment and excitement of the war end, of husbands and fathers and sons returning home.

Suddenly furious, he tore the drawer open and grabbed the medals and his coat, barreling out of his room and into the streets.

“Tommy!” A female voice he barely recognized called out to him from the outside of the Garrison.

He turned in time to Lizzie Stark wave a handkerchief at him, starting to walk his way. Ignoring her, he turned away and continued to walk, knowing that would be enough response to keep her from following as he walked down to the bridge. He waited at the ledge for a moment to see if anyone had followed him, but the music and merriment remained behind him as he pulled out a cigarette and looked down into the watery darkness of the Cut.

The canal always made him think about his mother — another ghost in his life — and he wondered for a moment how much better it would be if he joined her. He wasn’t supposed to be here anyway, how easy would it be to just lean his weight forward.

Right now, he reasoned that there were only two futures at play for him. He already saw the effects the war had on some of the other survivors, some of his comrades — the Flanders Blues.

Danny had nightmares, and now it was starting to effect his waking hours, taking him ages to come back even after he’d already awoken. And there were others who were suffering far worse — like Barney, who had what they were now referring to as shell-shock, and Tommy feared would never be able to shake it and wondered if he’d ever leave the institution they’d admitted him in.

Even now, Tommy could close his eyes and still hear the guns, the shouts, of shovels and picks breaking into the earth. He could feel the ever looming threat of breaking through the mud and finding the enemy — of always being so close to death.

He couldn’t even imagine a world where the things he’d seen would ever fade from his memory. The gore, the blood, the flesh. The smell of burning, of gas, of fire, of dirt, of blood.

Whether those who’d died had found their way to a better place, Tommy no longer believed such a place existed. There was only a hell, and he’d volunteered to enter.

The medals burned in his hand as he thought about all those ghosts — his friends, his comrades, even his enemies. They were gone, and he was here.

He thought back to what he’d said to his brothers and comrades after they found out the war had officially ended. That this was their second life, their bonus life. Even then, Tommy wasn’t sure if he actually believed what he’d said in the throws of victory, of finding out that they weren’t going to die after accepting their fates. But now, standing over the Cut, Tommy knew that the only option for him was the second option.

No one was ever going to put him or his family in the mud again. That one day, he’d build his family up so high that not even the King himself would be able to touch them. That was the only way they’d ever truly be able to find safety and peace.

Lifting the medals into the street light, he read the engraving one final time before letting them slip through his fingers. He closed his eyes until he heard the expected splash.

What he hadn’t expected to hear was a person exclaiming below the bridge.

“Oi!” Tommy shouted, suspicion that he’d been followed creeping into his paranoid mind. “Someone down there?”

Not waiting for a response, Tommy was already off the bridge and walking toward the underpass when he heard a woman respond.

“You almost took me out,” the voice quipped, the body still leaning over the waters edge near where the waves were still bouncing.

When the body straightened and turned toward him, he instantly recognized it.

It was her — it was you.

He breathed in deep, remembering his lit cigarette, and for a moment he had the thought that he’d actually jumped.

Tommy could tell by the look on your face that you recognized him as well, and that the fact that you were standing there together was just as a surprise to you as it was for him.

“You were at the train station,” he tested, moving closer to the street light to get a better view and hope that it would prompt you to follow suit. Which, you did.

The last two times he’d seen you felt different than this. Where before, even at the train station, you’d felt ethereal, otherworldly. Now, in this moment, you felt real, your body fidgeting uncomfortably as your eyes moved everywhere but refused to meet his own. He took the opportunity to get a better look at the mystery woman.

The first thing he noticed was how different you looked now than you had in his vision. You were dressed in something similar to what his sister had been wearing earlier that evening. And while your hair seemed slightly in disarray and face looked flushed, you looked just as beautiful as you had the first time he’d seen you.

His vision flashed before him, and he recalled the different version of you he’d seen. In his vision, you had on considerably less clothes, the recollection of your long, bare legs had him moving his eyes down your body.

When his eyes reached back up to your face, your eyes finally met his again and a blush crept across your cheeks. Part of him wondered if you could read his thoughts.

“I was,” you finally replied, your voice a little stronger than he’d expected. You motioned toward the water. “And you were throwing some medals into the river, yeah?”

Sobering up, Tommy felt his back straighten a little at the notion. He hadn’t expected you to notice what exactly he’d thrown into the water. He narrowed his eyes, took a long drag of his cigarette, and made some comment about how the fish could have them.

“Don’t think the fish’ll have much use for them,” you replied back, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes wrinkled and mouth flinched, as if holding back a smile at your own joke.

Despite himself, the sight actually amused him enough to breathe out a shrug. “Seems we have that in common, then.”

Not prompted at all by the thought of your legs from his vision, Tommy began to wonder how difficult it would be to persuade you to join his bed. It’d been a while since the last time he’d slept with someone.

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized you’d indicated that you were leaving. He didn’t want you to leave though.

“You a whore?” He asked, reasoning that if he could pay you to stay with him, it’d be the easiest way to keep you from disappearing again.

It wasn’t a crazy question. There weren’t many women walking around alone, at night, in Birmingham, who weren’t offering some intimate services. He knew it was where his unmarried brother and mates would be ending their nights tonight. Hell, one of them was probably giving Lizzie the attention he’d denied her at this very moment.

He didn’t have anything against prostitutes, it was just another business transaction in his opinion. Plus, it was an easy way to have sex without the mess of feelings.

But the way you’d rounded on him, planting your feet just a step away from him as your face contorted into something different than the one he’d just seen, his opinion on the question changed.

You dove into a rant asking what the hell was wrong with him.

“No, I’m not a whore!” You’d finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t support a woman’s choice to sell her services to men who will pay if it means making enough to survive in this God awful existence!”

Tommy chuckled, realizing that the two of you felt the same way about the profession. “So, you aren’t a whore, but you respect ‘em, is that it?”

You rolled your eyes and the sight made him want to smile again. He reasoned that this woman before him had no idea who he was — no person in Small Heath outside of his own family dared to talk to him like this, much less roll their eyes at him without the fear of his blade cutting through them, male or female. You were fearless, it seemed — or stupid. Either way, for the moment it intrigued him.

“Everyone sells part of themselves for something eventually. Sometimes it’s a woman laying on her back for a man. Sometimes it’s a man crawling through the mud for a King.”

Your comment made Tommy shift immediately from amused and intrigued to angry.

No, you weren’t afraid of him, but you should be.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to you, straightening his back and shoulders, expecting you to flinch. But you didn’t, and he couldn’t figure out why the refusal to back away or even break eye contact made him want to kiss you rather than punish you.

“You should go home,” he decided to say, choosing to soften his voice instead of raise it. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop himself from scanning down your face to your lips. “The next man you meet alone, under a bridge, at night, might not be as accepting to your ideologies as I am.” He darted his tongue out to lick his own lips when you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth. While he was willing to let you get away with what you said to him this time, he still wanted to make you realize the vulnerable state you were in, how much power he really had. “If he says you’re a whore, he might treat you like one in spite of your pretty words.”

He watched you finally react, a shiver running through you as your eyes met his again. He noticed the blush on your cheeks deepen as you took a step back, telling him you appreciated the advice before a strong breeze caused you to wrap your arms around your body.

Tommy hadn’t even felt the cold since the minute he laid eyes on you, the adrenaline from marching down to the Cut and then finally getting to speak to you had his blood boiling. Without even realizing it, Tommy was shrugging his coat off his own shoulders and offering it to you, who hesitated slightly before accepting it. The sight of the oversized coat hanging around your shoulders made his chest tighten. He couldn’t figure out why it looked so right on you.

Before he realized it, you were stepping away from him toward the steps of the bridge. His eyes met yours again, and something shifted behind them. Before he could ask, you welcomed him home and turned to finally disappear into the darkness, leaving him alone by the water’s edge again.

Tommy didn’t know why he’d had a vision of you months ago. He didn’t know why he had met you tonight, or how it seemed you also knew about him. But he did know one thing — he was going to find out.

——

Despite his initial internal promise to find out more about the mystery woman, Tommy found his attention otherwise occupied as he threw his energy into building back up the family name and reputation. And despite Polly’s insistence that they take a few days to get back in the swing of things, Tommy spent all his free time reacquainting himself with the family books, starting with the furthest back and moving his way forward. He was happy to discover that true to her letters, Polly had been keeping the betting business going with no qualms. Even with the amount of men in the war, there was enough steady flow of cash to keep everything afloat.

The family business side of things hadn’t been as lucky. While still viable thanks in part to members of their gang who hadn’t enlisted, there had definitely been a drop in income. Tommy made a note of all the people he was going to need to visit.

He could feel Polly hovering as he read through the books throughout the days. Having grown up with his aunt practically raising him, he knew how overprotective she was over her kin, so part of him thought nothing of it at first.

He was nearly done with all the books, finally getting halfway through this year’s ledgers, when he discovered the real reason for Polly’s hovering.

“Polly!” he shouted from his office, standing up and grabbing both books he’d been looking at before moving into the kitchen. He threw the first book open on the table in front of his aunt and pointed to the margins. “Who the fuck’s handwriting is this?”

“Tommy—“ Polly began, moving quickly to close the doors to the bustling betting den.

“Who the fuck’s handwriting is this, hmm?” He tapped against the book pages harder, leaning against the table as Polly closed the other doors, concealing them from any eyes or ears that may have followed Tommy’s tirade. “Fuckin’ answer me, Pol.”

“I hired someone, alright Thomas?” her voice answered softly in contrast to his volume as she shook her head, waving him off. “You didn’t expect after all this time that we wouldn’t bring in new help.”

Tommy threw a second book on top of the first and pointed again at the same handwriting in the margins. “And what is the same fucking handwriting doin’ in the family book, eh?”

Polly held his gaze.

“Did an estranged family member show up while we were away? Perhaps a bastard looking for a father, or a long lost brother?”

She didn’t answer, her eyes narrowing at her nephew’s condescending questions as he went on, taking her silence as a no.

“Okay then, how ‘bout a new uncle? Did you get married and you just forgot to bloody mention it, Pol? Is there a new last name we should be calling ‘ya?”

“No,” Polly answered straight, crossing her arms defensively as Tommy rose up.

“No,” Tommy repeated as a mock and his body mirrored hers, crossing his own arms. “So, there is a non-family member auditing our family books then, yeah?”

“Yes,” Polly answered again.

Tommy took a deep breath, trying not to let his aunt’s stubbornness rile him up. There was information she was keeping from him, that she’d been keeping from him, and he wanted to know everything immediately.

“Go on, Pol,” he went on, his voice still even despite its rise a few moments ago. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

Polly held Tommy’s gaze for a moment before finally relenting, taking a deep breath that matched his own.

“She’s a friend of Ada’s—“

“Fucking hell—“ Tommy’s eyes shot upward as he felt his entire body groan at the mention of his sister.

He loved Ada, but the girl had never shown any interest in their business, either business, her entire life. In fact, the girl had never taken anything serious, so he couldn’t imagine the kind of company she chose.

“She’s smart, Thomas,” Polly insisted, the use of his full name showing her seriousness. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to him. “Here, see for yourself. That’s a list of everyone who has tried to steal or skim money from us since she started.”

Tommy opened the paper, and immediately recognized most of the names. Two had been men he’d hired himself years ago.

“It started with the betting books. Then I gave her one of our books just to see if she could spot anything. She didn’t know what it meant, just told her to cross check names and numbers.”

Tommy took another deep breath, “If she’s so smart, how do you know she didn’t know what it meant, eh? How do you know you can trust her?”

“Ask around,” she offered. “You’ll come to the same conclusion I did.”

“Where is she now?”

“I told her to stay away until you made your decision.”

“What decision is that? Whether to invite her back or kill her?” Polly’s eyes narrowed, and the reaction actually surprised him. He scoffed, “Really, ‘ave you gone soft on us now, Pol?”

She held her glare before raising her hand. “Just— just look into her first. Do that, and I’ll tell you everything I’ve learned. But, be discreet. Her employment was and still is a secret. Plenty of men were angry when we started taking care of that list.”

Tommy noticed some of the names next to the list had symbols next to them, understanding the meaning behind them. The two men he’d brought in both had black stars next to theirs.

“Any threats?” Without realizing, Tommy began to take a closer look at Polly, searching for any new cuts, scars, or faded bruises.

She scoffed, smiling as she shook her head. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Tommy took a deep breath, taking another look at the list. This really was impressive, and he was curious how exactly the girl had come to discover all of this. He’d paid close attention to her notes in the margins of the books and could already believe Polly’s insistence of her intelligence.

But that didn’t mean she was trustworthy. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d been double crossed or infiltrated by an enemy or copper.

“Fine. You’ve got a deal,” he finally said, folding the list up and putting it in his own pocket. “Just tell me her name.”

“Y/N.”

——

It didn’t take long for Tommy to find out where this Y/N lived and worked. Not only was the number of people moving into Small Heath minimal, but especially young women.

Tommy had been avoiding the pubs since he came home, he still wasn’t ready to dive back into the crowds. But he heard the rumors of a pretty, out-of-town barmaid at the Garrison, and his curiosity finally won over.

He thought his chances would be better if he went over early, and despite being gone for a few years, the old pub hadn’t changed a bit. Which meant, he knew exactly which nook and cranny to hide inconspicuously while the afternoon bustle began to ramp up.

So far, it was just Harry tending the bar, the sitting area still sparse enough for one person to manage. Tommy watched as a couple men filtered in and out of the snug, and an idea began to formulate as he waited.

He’d always liked the Garrison — it was conveniently closer to the house than any of the other pubs in the area, and it was slowly becoming the heart of the town for the everyday man. Presumably, all were welcome, even the men who preferred pubs that catered more toward the commies or Fenians.

And he liked Harry. The man had never treated he or his family any different for being gypsies — Tommy chalked that up to him coming from Irish travelers himself. Even after Harry began to pay the Shelbys for their protection, he’d still treated them without some of the passive aggressive bitterness that some other patrons held. There was always a layer of respect, of common sense, and even a hint of humor that Tommy always appreciated.

Even now, when Harry found him sitting in the dark corner of the bar with his paper raised like a shield, he hadn’t questioned and didn’t bring attention, an unspoken understanding it seemed and instead simply dropped a tumbler down in front of him and kept an eye on its fill level. And as if the man needed any more of a reason, Harry had fought in the war, up until he was sent home, and Tommy respected any man who fought for his country.

Yes, Tommy liked Harry, and decided in that moment to make the Garrison the Shelbys official pub.

He was beginning to formulate the deal proposal when the office door to his right opened and a body emerged. He pulled back up his racing paper, lowering it just enough so he could take in the backside form of a young woman as the door closed behind her and she walked toward the bar. He tried to listen as the women sat a book on the counter in front of Harry. The owner scratched his head as he looked at the page and shrugged. Tommy could read Harry’s lips as he shoved the book back toward the woman and told her he trusted her. She grabbed it and practically skipped away from the counter, obviously happy with the outcome of the exchange, and turned back toward the office door.

It was you.

The girl from his vision, from the train station, from the Cut.

You were Y/N.

Tommy felt his blood run cold at the realization and froze as you continued to look down at the book and walked right back into the office. You hadn’t seen him this time, and for that he was grateful.

Because right now, he was angry.

Who the hell were you, and what right did you have invading his space like this? First his mind, then his home, and now his business? Who the hell did you think you were?

His blood turned from ice to a boil as he stood up and stormed out of the front door. Tommy could feel Harry’s gaze follow him with a silent question that he knew better than to ask.

Tommy’s feet took him to the person who led him there: his aunt.

Polly was near the fire, stacking some of the logs from the shed in preparation for a cold night. It was mid-December now, and the days were growing shorter than ever. All outdoor chores had to be done before supper and Polly always liked to get everything squared up and out of the way before she had to begin.

She heard Tommy storm in through the front door, she could always identify the sound of his footsteps over his brothers, even at a young age. He was heavy in the heels and he was always in a hurry, walking with his shoulders forward. Polly took it as a sign that he would be a leader one day, always firm in his resolve and destined to forever chase a dream bigger than himself.

“Welcome back,” she said evenly, already feeling his attitude before he even made it through the doorway.

Tommy didn’t answer her, only moved to close the door behind him, and then the betting doors, despite the house being quiet at the moment.

Polly wiped her hands on her skirt and rose to look at her nephew, the sight bringing a crease to her brow.

Tommy was always composed, the number of times she hadn’t seen him so could be counted on one hand. But now, in front of her, she could add another count to her list as she reached for him.

“Tommy,” she started calmly, urging him to sit before taking the seat next to him. She was trying to decipher if his expression was one of anger, shock, or something worse. “Tell me, what is it?”

His eyes finally flicked up to his aunt, and the anger returned. “Y/N.”

Polly took in a deep breath, more of the picture starting to fall in place as her back straightened. “You saw her?”

He nodded.

“You talked to her?”

He shook his head.

Polly licked her lips and tightened them. “Why not?”

Tommy ran a hand over his face and assessed his aunt. He was contemplating whether he should tell her his vision. Polly was more in tune to visions and spirits than he was. And despite his outward skepticism of most things religious or religious adjacent, there was something deep within him that was never able to fully dismiss some of the mysteries that came from the Romani people. That’s why he was always respectful toward old gypsy women, and took extra caution to his aunt’s warnings. Same with Curly, his Uncle Charlie, and even his mother back in the day. Whether it was real or just something familiar from his upbringing, he knew without a doubt his aunt could have some insight into all this.

Hell, she probably already had some insight. It wasn’t lost on him that his aunt often knew things that he didn’t. And while usually that was something he trusted to use to the family’s advantage, right now he wanted to know everything.

“We’ve already met,” he decided to begin there, not totally lying but not divulging the whole truth yet. “The night we returned, down by the Cut. It wasn’t exactly the best of introductions.”

“Oh Thomas, tell me you didn’t —“

His brow creased at her response, noticing the look on her face and realizing what she must have thought. He breathed out of his nose, “Nothing like that, Pol. We just talked. I did ask if she was a whore and she nearly pushed me in the water.”

The corner of Polly’s lips flew into a smirk as she tried to refrain from chuckling. It was difficult though, she could only imagine what that must have looked like.

“Tell me what you know,” he continued, back to business. “This girl keeps showing up in my life and I want to know why.”

Polly took a deep breath, her smile turning serious as she leaned back in her chair. He wondered if she caught his use of the word ‘keeps’ and would push on it.

She didn’t, for now at least. “I told you I would tell you once you found out more for yourself.”

“I’ll keep looking into her — discreetly,” he added when he saw she was about to remind him of her secrecy. “But right now I know enough and if I don’t hear what you have to say it might make things worse.”

The anger he was feeling before crept back up. He thought about facing you again in this state, and truly he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Part of him believed he’d just torture you into telling what you wanted from him, who you were working for, what your game was. The other part of him believed he’d fling you over his shoulder and bring you to his bedroom. Both of which would be unhelpful to his current situation.

Something bigger was going on here. He could feel it. And he wanted to know what.

Polly was watching him during his internal battle and could sense his edge. She took a deep breath before nodding. “I believe she’s gypsy,” she stated simply. “Maybe not bred, but by blood.”

Tommy hadn’t expected Polly’s big insight to be this. He restrained himself from scoffing. “That’s it? Just because she might be gypsy you think she’s trustworthy to be privy to our family books?”

Yes, Tommy and his family came from a long line of Romani blood. But that didn’t mean it held any stock with him. Outside of his own family and extended family, other gypsies would be some of the last people Tommy would trust.

“I think she has a gift, Thomas,” Polly continued seriously. “The first day I saw her, the day she met Ada, she predicted the end of the war months before it happened. To the day.”

Tommy’s brow creased. “One correct guess and suddenly she’s a fortune teller?”

“It’s not just that. There was gossip when she first arrived. Mrs. Tully was chirping about a batty new tenant who finally arrived in the empty lodgings they’d been keeping. Said she acted like she’d been living under a rock all her life — didn’t even act like she knew there was a war going on. Strange that a girl who barely knew about the war could guess the exact date of its end, isn’t it?”

Tommy made a mental note to add Mrs. Tully to his list of people to question. “I suppose. But still doesn’t sound concrete to me.”

“Perhaps, but there’s one piece that solidified my guess,” Polly replied, straightening in her seat. “She has a tattoo on her back — I only caught a glimpse but I’m sure of what I saw. I’ve seen the symbol before, once, when I was a girl. The crest of the Delphi family.”

Tommy’s shoulders squared at the name. He, like most gypsies, were familiar with the name and the crest. It was one of the oldest Romani families still around, and there was a reason for that. Their age and their affinity for fortune telling deepened their pockets enough to provide them with muscle and protection. They were ruthless when wronged, and their leader was said to unleash unimaginable curses on her enemies.

And according to Polly — you, his mystery woman, had their symbol branded on your back.

He ran through the possibilities of what this could mean in his head. You could have been a family member who ran away, or a slave to one of the leaders. Polly had mentioned she didn’t think you were brought up in the gypsy life, and from the little bit of interaction he had with you, he was inclined to agree. There had to be a connection between this woman, this family, and his dream. Which was beginning to feel more and more like a curse, or an omen to stay away.

But then, why did every instinct fuel him to get closer, to find out more?

He got up from the kitchen table and began walking back toward the pub. He ignored Polly’s call behind him, obviously worried he’d do something irrational.

But Tommy was beginning to form a plan, a battle strategy, if you will. To defeat the enemy, you had to know the enemy. And whether Y/N fell in that definition for him or not, he needed to gather as much as he could before he made any call.

Over the next day, he managed to speak with Harry while avoiding you. It was easier to ask about you in the pretense of dangling a business proposal, claiming that he needed to trust his employees as much as the owner when it came to matters like this.

“Oh, ‘ya shouldn’t ‘ave a problem there,” Harry had told him.

“Forgive me for askin’, Harry, it’s just you don’t normally give jobs to women. Especially pretty women.”

Harry breathed out of his nose before waving his hand dismissively. “Findin’ anyone to work when I got back was bloody impossible, mate. And when I finally could find help, even if they was a girl, they’d end up spending more time makin’ their own money on the side, if’ya know what I mean.” Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “But let me tell ‘ya, Y/N’s been a dream since she showed up.”

Tommy’s back tightened at the use of phrase.

“She came in with all these ideas and improvements, ‘processes’ she calls ‘em. I tell ‘ya, I ‘aven’t met a more educated woman before in my life. I fought the changes at first, but dammit I can’t fight against less waste and more money. Oh, and don’t worry — I made sure she wasn’t a prostitute. Asked her ‘for I hired her.”

The corner of Tommy’s cheek rose slightly at the comment, curious if he’d been the latest of a long line of people asking her the same question.

“And you’re sure?” Tommy asked, just to scratch a curiosity. “Not even recreationally?”

Despite himself, Tommy couldn’t keep out the thought of your blushed cheeks down at the Cut, the way you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and the bareness of your legs in his vision. He adjusted in his seat before forcing his mind to stop before it went too far, noting to make an appointment with Lizzie the next time he saw her.

Harry shrugged, oblivious to Tommy’s internal struggle. “She’s nice to the men at the bar, enough to keep the place calm and in good spirits. But I’ve ‘eard her turn down enough of ‘em to know she’s not interested in making an extra bob like that. Only once did I ‘ave to throw a man out for trying anything on her, and that was after she’d already damaged his boys herself. After that, the men seemed to get the message. She’s pretty though, and a good barmaid — think that’s why they keep comin’ back.”

Tommy breathed a short breath of amusement out of his nose at the thought of you fighting. Granted, he’d seen enough fights between Ada and John to know that women would hit where ever they could to get the upper hand in combat, and he didn’t blame her.

“I promise ‘ya, Tom,” Harry had continued talking. “You can trust her. Whatever business you want to do with me, Y/N could only make it better.”

“Give me a week to make my own assessment,” Tommy replied. They ironed out the stipulations of how Tommy could make such an assessment and agreed to keep it secret. He could sense Harry’s hesitation, and he wondered if it was out of protectiveness or something else.

But eventually, a handshake sealed the agreement and Tommy promised to have the deal finalized and ready by the time he finished.

A little more than a week later, and Tommy came to three absolute conclusions about you.

First: you had a secret. He could tell predominately by the way you talked to people and by the way you carried yourself when you thought people were looking. It wasn’t obvious — in fact, it’s subtlety was one of the more glaring identifiers to someone who was looking as closely as Tommy was.

Second: you weren’t a threat. At least, not to his family or their operation. Aside from the Garrison, your lodgings, the local grocer, and the bath house that he knew Ada frequented, you didn’t have any odd routes that previous coppers narcs had taken in the past. Y/N hardly had a life outside of the pub, Tommy realized, and found it strange. You didn’t go out with any men or friends, the way other women your age did. Hell, even Ada managed to leave the house at least twice a week to go out with her friends. But not you.

You were especially less threatening when he caught you on the first night you were closing up the pub since he began his investigation. Everything was going as expected, until about an hour into the clean up when you began to sing. From his spot (which he’d managed to obtain permission from Harry to watch from with the promise that he wouldn’t do anything unsavory or harmful) he could see and watch as you sang some foreign song and danced around frivolously with your broomstick.

It was hard to imagine you as some nefarious mastermind after watching you slip on a spot of tobacco spit on the floor while extending your arm in front of you and clasping your hand together, then jumping in the air as you shook your fist while singing some repetitive salutations to an invisible audience.

That had actually caused him to laugh, something he hadn’t done genuinely and wholeheartedly since returning to Birmingham.

The last conclusion Tommy made while watching you was the oddest, he thought.

You didn’t smoke. At all.

He didn’t know anyone who didn’t smoke. Hell, even Finn had been caught smoking a handful of times since the brothers returned. And he was ten years old.

Tommy chalked the last observation up to the air of posh-ness he sensed you possessed. He felt strangely drawn to it, and after your odd drinking game after he finally approached you did it only increase.

He still couldn’t quite get a read on you. There was an innocence he could see about you, especially when it came to your understanding of who he was and his place in this world. On the other hand, your eyes held a heavy weight to them that warned him not to underestimate you. That there was wisdom mixed with the innocence that he couldn’t quite detangle.

He’d gauged your reaction to his reveal that he’d dreamed about you. You’d been genuinely surprised, though that hadn’t brought him much reassurance. If anything, it made him more frustrated by the series of events, especially when he had to use every ounce of resistance not to kiss you.

You'd given him all the signs — hell, he probably could have bed you that night if he’d asked to walk you to your bedroom. But you weren’t just some random woman or a prostitute. He’d asked you to officially work again for their company, for their family. He couldn’t be flippant with his more primitive instincts with you.

Plus, if there was something more going on here, something deeper, he wanted to make sure he had all the answers before he made himself too vulnerable. He had not only himself, but his family to think about.

After he left you at Mrs. Tully’s, he began his search for Johnny Dogs, determined that some kind of explanation had to be found in the Delphi camp.

But now, you and him were here. And Tommy felt just as confused and frustrated as he had when they first met.

Just get through the night, Tommy told himself as he led a freaked out you toward the jovial crowd of gypsies dancing around the bon fire. The time for secrets must end.

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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