#passion...you need that drive to take your pen and do stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 months

Text

Remember, Remember

I was just rereading "Care and Keeping of Idiots" (amazing btw) and in the beginning Patton has a notebook that Janus takes from him? Patton protests that it helps him "remember stuff" and Janus counters that it actually helps him to feel guilty. Uh, this really piqued my interest so maybe could you write a fic about Patton and this notebook, what exactly it is? (and the sides helping him with realizing he doesn't have to use it <3) – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: light guilt tripping of self

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic i don't care

Word Count: 2061

Listen, Patton doesn't understand what the big deal is. This is what notebooks are for, after all. Notebooks are for taking notes! They are for helping you remember things! They are for whatever words or feelings make their way from your brain down your arm, through a pen or pencil—or marker—and onto the paper. That's their purpose! It would be silly to not use a notebook if you have things you want to remember and you need some place to write it down.

As would anyone who cares deeply about anything, Patton has a lot of things he wants to write down. Recipes that he wants to try out, shows he needs to catch up on, books he wants to read…books he has read and wants to talk about, things he has to do, there's a lot. And, also, because sometimes talking about feelings is really hard, he writes about them instead. Listen, they've all be working on being more open with each other, but the truth of the matter is that some of them are more easily able to tap into that vulnerability and be able to share it than others. That's a true fact about the world, whether Patton likes it or not, and he's not totally unaware here. He knows that he's contributed to that in his own way, and it's not his place to demand the others be open about things with him if they're not comfy with it yet.

So, because notebooks can be very useful things, he writes about it.

He's penned long pages about how much he adores Roman's passion and drive, but sometimes he worries that when it doesn't come as easily, Roman will get upset with himself. How it's okay if he just needs to make stuff for Roman, not the rest of them, not even for Thomas. How much he's sorry that he's contributed in any way, shape, or form to the insecurity that his kiddo tries so hard to cover up, but he knows is there. Sometimes he makes himself cry as he's writing those, not just because he knows Roman's particularly upset right now, but he's dredged up all the emotion in himself and, well, it has to go somewhere.

He keeps little short lists of how much he appreciates Logan's efforts—he does his best to say them out loud too, but sometimes Logan's not in the place where he wants to hear that, so he writes them down to save them for later. He's been trying to be better about asking Logan when he doesn't understand things, but sometimes the conversation moves too fast and he doesn't want to be a bother and slow everyone way down just so Logan can explain the thing he mentioned, like, five minutes ago. So, in the name of efficiency, he writes them down and looks them up later and does his best to recontextualize the conversation with his new knowledge. He's pretty sure Janus has a notebook that automatically transcribes conversations for him for when hearing is hard and lip-reading is harder, maybe he'll ask if he can learn a bit of that too.

Speaking of Janus…oh, he's written way too much and not enough at all about Janus. He's still not entirely sure what his own personal feelings are about the whole…Dark Sides/Light Sides thing, especially because it sort of feels like they're trying to do away with it entirely now that they've just found out the lines exist. Which isn't really fair, he knows, since he's the one who pushed them away to begin with, but they haven't—it's not—this is the first time he's really interacted with them in a long time, and so it's impossible to slide back into what it once was, and they're not quite at the place where they can start forging something new. Not yet. So, because he needs somewhere to put them, he writes.

Virgil, as will come as a surprise to no one, does not like being confronted with sentiment. (He actually wrote that one word for word and tried not to giggle at how much it reminded him of the look Virgil had when Roman tried to rope him into singing Disney songs together.) And so, because he's not above making his kiddos admit how great they are but he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable, he writes them all down instead. About how he's so proud at how much Virgil is trying to come out of his shell, how much he loves hearing about what Virgil's interested in now, or how much he secretly agrees that yeah, that story really was kind of edgy and not in a good way.

With Remus, who he doesn't know that well, he mostly writes down questions. Some of them are…in better faith than others, he'll admit. Why did he put his bear trap in the fridge? Why is there a water balloon filled with hot sauce in the sink? Where did his deodorant go? How did he come up with the idea of making every single doorknob make a different sound? What's his Kraken's name? That sort of thing. And maybe, sometimes he wants to ask things about him and Roman. How it feels being two parts of Creativity, or sharing the Imagination, or why, in the middle of the night, if he's very quiet, the walls sort of feel like they're shaking.

But! Maybe that's none of his business. That's why it's better to write it down, see? That way he can work out all his thoughts on paper and not have to bother anyone with them. Also, that means that if he needs to remember something, but he doesn't necessarily want them to know he's having trouble remembering it, he can write it down! Like how Roman doesn't like it when you ask about projects he hasn't talked about in a while, or how Logan doesn't like be disturbed unless the sign on his door says he's disturbable, or how he needs to ask Janus first if he's being serious or not about doing something, or about how Virgil needs time to himself away from everyone, or how he needs to leave Remus alone, that sort of thing. He should just know those, so he writes them down so he remembers them, but that's all.

That's what notebooks are for, isn't it?

Well, from the way everyone's staring at him with a mix of frustration, pity, and confusion, maybe he doesn't know what notebooks are for after all.

"That's not—you are not incorrect in your assessment of what a notebook is used for," Logan says slowly, "but the way in which you are choosing to use it…"

"Yeesh, Pop Star," Virgil mumbles, toying with the strings of his hoodie, "you're…damn, you're kinda giving me a run for my money."

"What? What do you mean, kiddo?"

"Having lists of things you need to do to monitor your own behavior?" He jerks his thumb at Roman. "That's both a him thing and a me thing."

"And it doesn't sound like it's particularly healthy either."

Patton laughs—surely, they can't be serious—but then everyone else is still looking at him like that and he tugs on the hem of his shirt. "I think you're overreacting a bit, kiddos, it's not that bad."

"You're keeping lists of ways in which you should behave in order not to upset us," Logan summarizes, "is that right?"

"Well, yeah, I don't want to upset you! And you have boundaries, those are important—"

"Boundaries like 'leave Remus alone?'" Remus looks up from his little huddle on the couch. Patton's heart sinks.

"N-not as in leave you alone alone, just that—I know you don't like being bothered by me, so—"

"How do you know that?"

"W-well, it's just that every time I try and come and talk to you, you're always—it feels like you don't want me there."

"Yeah, because the last three times you came, it was when I was handling the newborns from my side of the Imagination or working with the corrosive chemicals that Ro said aren't allowed in the Imagination anymore. You could've been hurt." Remus frowns. "Your sense of timing is shitty but it's not like I don't want to spend time with you."

"O-oh. Um, I'm…sorry?"

"Shit, no, I didn't mean it like that, I just—" Remus sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face— "I'm not going to try and blame you for your brain being spicy, but I am going to point out that you jumped straight to 'don't interact' as opposed to asking me why I wanted you to leave in those instances."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Logan lean over to Janus to ask what 'brain spiciness' is, but he's too distracted by how Virgil's frowning at him. "What?"

"Are you—do the things in your notebook also consist of you reminding yourself of mistakes you've made in the past?"

"…yes? If I write the mistake down, I'm not likely to forget it and make it again, right?"

"How often do you reread them?"

"Every day, why?" The collective wince that happens is enough to let him know that was the wrong answer. "O-or! I mean, it's not everyday, every day, but—"

There's a low hiss from Janus and he shuts up.

A pause.

Then Logan takes a deep breath, adjusting his glasses.

"I will admit, when you first started talking about this, I was…not so much intrigued as I was curious as to why you'd never brought it up on your own before, considering how much we've all been talking about getting better at communicating. And if it were truly just an outlet for your emotions, I don't believe anyone would be reacting as strongly as they are, myself included."

"But that is what it is."

"But you're using it to amplify your own guilt and shame," Roman breaks in softly, "and that's not good, Padre."

"What? That's not what I'm doing at all! I'm just—"

"Then why were you so hesitant to tell us?"

Well.

He's sure there's a good answer for that.

Somewhere.

He just needs to think of it!

Yeah.

Yeah…

…yeah.

…

…oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Distantly, he registers the soft noises of concern and the gentle touch to his face. His head moves. There's someone standing in front of him. The thing on his cheek strokes the skin gently again. He blinks. Oh. His vision is all blurry. There's a lot of movement happening. There's someone calling his name.

"Patton? Sweetie, can you hear me?"

He thinks he nods. The thing on his face cups his jaw and then slides around to the back of his head—oh, that feels nice. He likes that feeling. He tries to lean into it. There's another quiet noise and then there's another touch on his shoulder.

"Sweetie, come sit, please, come sit with us. Let's give you a cuddle, okay? Look, the twins are right here—"

He's passed to another set of hands and then his hands are trying to wipe his face because he's crying, that's why his vision is so blurry, and then Roman—it has to be Roman, it's all red—is pulling him close and it's really warm, and soft, and quiet, and—

"Shh, there you go," Roman murmurs, "just take a moment, okay?"

"Remus, budge over a bit."

"L, can you get the—"

"Yes, I've got it."

"Shh," Roman says again when Patton hiccups with the force of the sobs, "here, cry this out for me, okay? Just get it all out, that's it, you're okay…"

He doesn't have the words, not really, to figure out how to remember this, but as the feelings wash over him and the world becomes a little smaller, just for a moment, he thinks he might not need to write anything down to remember what this feels like.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders

40 notes · View notes

remakethestars · 3 years

Text

CABIN 10 — APHRODITE

Headcanons.

❝I want to apologize to all the women I have called pretty before I’ve called them intelligent or brave. I am sorry I made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains. From now on, I will say things like, ‘You are resilient,’ or, ‘You are extraordinary.’ Not because I don’t think you’re pretty. But because you are so much more than that.❞

— Rupi Kaur

Headcanon masterlist.

They’re the camp hairdressers. You need a trim? You want it cut? You want it died? You want to shave it all off? Hit ‘em up.

The type of people that will straight-up chop their hair if it doesn't match their outfit. Somehow, it always works out? I'm looking at Micarah Tewers.

They also run a secret ear piercing — or anything else you need to pierce — parlor.

Okay, but consider: children of Aphrodite that grow up to be models.

They can charm speak the photographers into letting them pick their own poses & not make them do seductive ones if they’re not comfortable with them.

Some create clothing lines that represent sustainable fashion & have big names but small carbon footprints.

Some are spies.

Think about it! They know how to switch subtle bits of their personality to fit in with everyone they come across, when & when not to use their charm.

The hide outfits under other outfits & can slip one off in public to reveal the other & lose a tail.

And they'd probably be great at disguise makeup. Add a prosthetic chin, contour their nose differently, pull off their wig, & they're a completely different person.

Plus, their combat training at C.H.B. makes them the perfect agent.

The floor next to their bunk is scattered with fabric cuttings, pins, needles, their sewing machine, serger, & measuring tape.

The number of times someone's gotten a needle or pin in their foot's a tad concerning.

Will absolutely not wear a top with an overstitched collar. Fast fashion is so tacky! Understitch is the way to go, the staple of a quality garment.

Vintage is better. Not because it's in style (that's a plus, though), but because the seams are big enough for you to let out, & it's made to last.

Experts at thrifting. Not just 'cause it's trendy or whatever, but because they're excellent at upcycling & far too many perfectly good clothes go into the land fill each year.

Make stunning dresses out of Good Will table cloths & curtains.

Or stitch two items together into one better whole.

They iron their clothes; they're not animals.

Really good at getting stains out?

Totally in on the corset bustier top trend, but they're using spiral steel boning in place of zip-ties. Because, again, they want things to last & they're not tacky.

Pass each other tips. Like to tuck your top into your tights to avoid the bulge under your skirt.

Some found big-name, organic makeup companies that don't test on animals. They use packaging that can be recycled or that's biodegradable.

Borrow their clothes, sure, whatever, but double-dip in their makeup & die. The bacteria will give them acne. (Or is it the oils? Either way, you'll perish.)

Happy to drop their skincare routine, though.

You need to cover up that tattoo you got from C7? They got you.

Flawless makeup on a budget. Expensive doesn't always mean better.

They're taking you to the pool for a first date? Take a seat, C10 knows just the stuff. They use what Disney Princesses use.

Can guess the right shade of foundation/lipstick for you on the first couple tries.

A lot of them invest in magnetic lashes because glue's a b¡tch.

Reusable makeup wipes.

Rick says C10 kids just sit around the lake & check their reflection, but consider: working out gets them their dream bod. So, yes, they do, in fact, train.

They just do it with intricate braids/hair gel & stylish sportwear.

And if a potential partner finds it unattractive that they’re “too muscly,” they’re no longer a potential partner.

Weapons disguised as jewelry or chapstick/lipstick.

Thalia had a mace canister that turned into a spear, & I gotta say, I.D.K. how she planned to get that through security. Imagine, alternatively, a tube that appears to be full of bright red lipstick when the T.S.A. agent opens it, but actually turns into a spear when opened by a half-blood.

(I have a headcanon that Riptide would just be a pen in the hands of a mortal. Bounced around for years as random objects until Poseidon nabbed it & took it to Chiron — recall that pen you lost?)

A pink, velvet choker that turns into a kopis with a dove embossed in the handle.

Many choose to train in heels. Might as well wear in training what they’ll be wearing when attacked in the street.

They’ve got no time for internalized misogyny.

“C10′s weak ‘cause they like being pretty!” Good way to lose a kneecap, Annabeth. You’ve grown up in this camp, you knew Selina, & you should know better.

They confront Piper’s misogyny pretty early on after The Lost Hero, but Piper still takes some time to get over her bias toward pink.

Are we not gonna talk about Rick’s fashion choices for Piper throughout the series? “She looks so fashionable.” To whom, Rick? To whom?

You couldn’t’ve done a little internet surfing just to see what was in style? I never leave the house in anything but jeans, Converse, & a graphic t-shirt from Walmart, & even I know she’s dressed like a middle-schooler! Probably because that’s how I dressed in middle-school… That’s not the point.

The point is just because a character likes makeup or fashion or the color pink, doesn’t mean they can’t/won’t fight for their lives & the lives of their friends if/when the time comes. And it doesn’t mean that they’re stupid or judgmental.

I don’t know a lot about makeup. Hades, I don’t even wear makeup — you can’t rub your eyes or scratch your face; it would drive me crazy. I don’t know a lot about fashion either. I don’t understand it, but I can respect it.

❝‘Jesus,’ Sara says as Branley walks past us. ‘Too cold to show off cleavage, so instead she goes for jeans so tight I can see her thong.’ ‘She looks nice,’ I say, and she does. Branley always looks put together in a way that tells me she spends hours in front of a mirror before going outside. And while I don’t understand that, I can respect it.❞

— Alex Craft, Mindy McGinnis’s The Female of the Species

According to The Lost Hero, all children of Aphrodite intuitively speak French. Cool, cool, cool — but consider, all of them also intuitively speak the language of flowers.

They see a red rose, and they just know it symbolizes love & passion. They see an orange lily, to contrast, & they know it symbolizes hatred.

There’s a copy of The Language of Flowers in their cabin, and it’s full of annotations, like, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so for Valentines Day! And, So-and-so gave these to so-and-so after their kiss on the Fourth of July; they obviously didn’t do their research!

They work together with C4 (Demeter) to provide flowers for funerals & the like.

C10 bookshelves also contain a lot of romance novels.

Beaten up copies of Pride & Prejudice & The Fault in Our Stars with faded highlighter over the beautiful lines & annotations in the margins.

The outside walls are a dusty pink, & the wood’s stained a dark brown that goes surprisingly well with the pink.

Inside, the walls are covered in faded wallpaper.

The southwest wall has a bay window with extra storage in the seat. (There’s not a body in there; they swear.)

(That’s an Arsenic & Old Lace reference, for you youngsters.)

The curtains have one chiffon layer closer to the window & a thicker floral fabric for inside. The thick curtains are replaced based on the season & whether or not someone’s decided to make a romper out of them.

They have a real bell jar with a real rose in front of the window. Legend has it it’s from Aphrodite herself.

Said window is a stained glass image of a dove.

The chaise lounge was probably beautiful when it was brought it, but it’s got fingernail polish & makeup stains on it now. Honestly, someone should really have that thing cleaned.

As you might have noticed, I placed a gif of swans at the top instead of a fancast for Aphrodite. This is because I think, as I believe most Percy Jackson fans do, multiple people should play her. I'd cast Arden Cho, Camila Mendes, Candice Patton, Diane Kruger, & Gal Gadot to start with.

Visit my Aphrodite cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I know I got a tad political with this one, but I didn’t & don’t intend to offend anyone. ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

#Aphrodite #Aphrodite cabin #Aphrodite kids #children of Aphrodite #Percy Jackson #PJO #HOO #remakethestars #beauty #makeup #sewing #fashion #headcanons #headcannons #hcs

228 notes · View notes

pascalscenarios · 3 years

Text

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE (Ricky Hauk x Reader)

Just The Way You Are

Scenarios Series

Ricky Hauk x Reader

Summary: Ricky feels as if he needs to change to keep up with your lavish life

Warning: Mentions of an abusive parent, social classes

Words: 1982

Author Note: Based on a scenario from my twitter. Ricky Hauk is so cute ugh! Enjoy! - K

You first met Ricky when your car broke down on the side of the road. You managed to get to a payphone and look up in the yellow pages to see if you could get a tow truck down to where you were located. The first number you found was for Al’s Service Station.

After calling and waiting for 20 minutes, Ricky had come with a tow truck, wearing a mechanic jumpsuit and a red baseball cap worn backward.

“Hey, I’m Ricky” He greeted you quickly, then went straight to hooking up your car.

You give him a sweet smile introducing yourself.

“Thank you for coming- I don’t know what happened. One minute I was driving, next thing, my started smoking and stopped running”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll take a look when we get back to the shop”

You thought Ricky was SO cute. He had gorgeous brown eyes that you ever saw.

On the car ride to the shop, you tried your best to make conversation with him. He didn’t say much. He was quiet and reserved. A man of few words.

You and Ricky had different upbringings. You have a perfect life. You came from a wealthy family and live in an affluent part of town. You could have anything you wanted. Ricky on the other hand had an abusive father growing up who is no longer in his life. He and his younger brother Joey were raised by a single mother and they struggled financially. They lived off paycheck to paycheck. Unlike you, Ricky couldn’t have the things he wished or dreamed for.

Ricky was hesitant around you. He knew how rich people were. One wrong move, or if you ended up saying something they found offensive, its cuffs slapped around his wrist.

He was already in a shitty mood and didn’t feel like talking. He got his two-week notice from Al that he was being laid off and his mom was still pretty ticked off at him thinking about the possibility of college, leaving her and his younger brother joey behind to fend for themselves. He didn’t need any more tension in his life.

Getting to the shop, he got to work on figuring out what was wrong with your fancy convertible. He popped open the hood of your car, looking around and fidgeting with different parts.

“Sometimes wrong with the engine. It’s gonna take an hour or two to fix. You might wanna call someone to come pick you up and come back later” he states.

“I’ll just wait, no biggie” you shrug.

He cocked his eyebrow at you. Were you serious? Why would someone like you willingly want to stay in a run-down part of town he thought. “You sure? We got a phone by the register-” he motions towards the desk

“I’m sure. I don’t mind waiting” you smile.

“Alright, suit yourself” turns his back towards you, crunches his face in confusion. He thought you were strange for deliberating staying.

You could have called someone to pick you up, but the truth is, you waited to stay to get to know Ricky and you weren’t in a rush to get home.

...

Ricky started to warm up to you after a while, making conversation with you as he worked on your car. You were sweet and you seemed different from the normal rich people he dealt with and he liked that. You treated him as an equal, not as someone who was below you.

After talking about anything and everything random things, you left him to focus on fixing your car. You probably irritated him. You wandered around the shop, exploring the different parts, tools, and old materials stashed around the garage.

Under a pile of greasy rags, you noticed a black leathered book. You opened it up to find writing inside. They were poems. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching poems. You were amazed by each one as you continued to flip the pages.

“Alright, your cars- hey!” Ricky quickly pulls out the rag from his back pocket, whipping the grease from his hands, and walking towards you.

He takes the books from your hand, closing it shut.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean- did you write those?”

He signs looking down at the book.

“Yeah… I did”

“They’re amazing! Do you like poetry?”

He nods. “Yeah, I love it.”

“I love writing! I’m majoring in journalism at Redding. My parents don’t see a future in it though. They want me to have a ‘real career’, whatever that means” you roll your eyes.

“Poems and writings are more of a hobby…I was thinking about taking a writing course down at Redding University. I went to go check a class out but I don’t know… thinking about it.”

“If you love and are passionate about writing and poetry, go for it. That’s what my grandma used to say. You’ve got a gift, Ricky.” You smile.

He changes the subject ”Uh your cars done- we should start it up, see if it’s running” he tosses the book on the side on top of an old crate and walks with you over his car.

You slide into your car, putting the key into the ignition, the engine roaring again.

“Ah! Thank you so much!” You get out of the car and hug him tightly. He was taken back by your hug, but he smiled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Here,” You said handing him money.

“Thanks,” he stuffed it in his pocket.

“It was nice meeting you, Ricky” you smile.

“Drive safe, if you have any trouble, just come by” …

“Ricky!” You shout coming back a couple of days later. He was laying on a creeper and rolled himself out from underneath the car he was working on. “Hey!” he sits upright, grabbing a towel from his pocket and wiping his hands. He gets up walking towards you.

“You alright? Your cars not giving you any trouble is it?” He says, continuing to wipe his hands.

“No, I came to see you actually.” You start blushing slightly.

“Me? Can you see me?” he points to himself in disbelief.

“Yeah, I wanted to bring you this” you hand him a book. “As a thank you”

He stuffs the towel back in his pocket, taking the blue canvas-covered book from your hands.

He brings it to flip through the pages, noticing they were filled with poems.

“It’s a book of poems. I’ve had it since I was little, but I wanted you to have it”

“What?- No I can take this-”

“It’s inspired me a lot, maybe it will spark something in you”

“Look this is nice in all, but I-”

“Don’t argue with me and just take the book!” you laughed.

He smiled “Alright, alright…” he chuckled. “Thank you”

“Bye” you waved towards him walking back to your car.

“Wait! Before I go-” he is getting a little shy now. “Do you maybe you want to hang out sometimes? We could go catch a movie or something do else- or if you don’t wanna hang out that's fin-”

“Are you asking me out?” you cocked his eyebrow at him

“Y-yeah…if that's okay”

A giddy smile appeared on your face, you took the pen from the front pocket of this jumpsuit, taking his greasy stained hand, and scribbled your number down.

“You better call me, or I'm just going to have to come back here and find you” you laugh.

And since then, you and Ricky have been inseparable ever since.

…

You and Ricky were friends at first, but eventually the more the two of you started spending time together, you both started falling for each other.

You had brought him home to meet your friends and family. They were disapproving of you dating a guy from the wrong side of the tracks, but you didn't care what they thought about the two of you. Under the tough and hard exterior that protected him from outsiders, he was sweet, loving and protective towards his family, thoughtful, hard-working, and intelligent.

After meeting your friends and family, Ricky realized who he was and where he came from wasn’t going to be good enough for you… or in this case your friends and family. He was so out of his element and stuck out like a sore thumb in your world, and everyone noticed. And it wasn’t just the fact he was underdressed, but the fact they have accomplished so much, and here he was financially unstable, not going to school, and jobless. He needed to change if he wanted to keep up with you and the people in your life.

You didn’t even have to try with his family. Just like Ricky, his mother and brother had to warm up to you first. His mother wasn’t sure of your intentions, but once she saw how you two were together, you gained her trust and she welcomed you with open arms. Joey liked you from the moment you told him that you loved macaroni and cheese.

After Ricky had met your friends and family, you saw a change in him. You had no idea what was going on. He was like a whole different person, acting like the snobby people you grew up with.

You brought him to another family event. He was dressed up fancy, which he looked very handsome but it wasn’t him, that wasn’t your Ricky and introduced himself as Richard?

The whole night you watched him not lie about himself and laugh at jokes you knew he didn’t find funny.

This wasn’t your Ricky.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah sure, excuse us” he smiles at your parents' friends.

You walk outside to the garden and turn to face him.

“What the hell is going on?” you question.

“What do you mean?”

“For the past several weeks, you haven't been acting like yourself. That’s not you in there. I don't know who the hell is standing in front of me, because surely this isn’t my Ricky. Where’s the guy I fell in love with? A mechanic who loves and has a passion for poetry…”

He noticed how upset you were. Tears forming in your eyes. He thought this would make you happy.

He sighs. He couldn’t keep up his charade. “I just..” he pauses. “After meeting your friends and family…I realized I’m not good enough for you. I don’t belong in your world. I’m from the opposite side of town, I’m from a single-parent and low-income household. All these people see right through me...they see me as nothing- I just thought if I changed-“

“Ricky” You cup his face in your hands. Your thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“You don’t ever have to change who you are for me! I see you! I know who you are, I know your heart. I don’t care about your past or where you come from. Who you are as a person means way more to me than your upbringing and how much money you have. I love me just the way you are.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course...With every fiber in me...I love you” You kiss him softly.

You both pull away, your foreheads resting against each other. “Let’s get out of here, please,” he says.

“Where do you wanna go?” you asked.

“God anywhere but here” he laughed. “How about dinner near your place, the one you took me to on our first date,” you asked. “I feel like eating a greasy burger, fries, and a milkshake.”

He laughed, “alright”

“Okay, we better hurry up before my parents try to stop us” you chuckle.

“They’re going to kill me...they don’t like you being out on my side of town so late,” He says, taking your hand as you quickly exit, using the side gate.

“They can get over it and besides I’ll be okay because I'll be with you.”

MT // @wifeofdindjarin @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso@greeneyedblondie44 @hb8301 @alberta-sunrise @spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina

#touched by an angel #Ricky Hauk x Reader #ricky hauk #Pedro Pascal #Pedro

65 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 3 years

Text

“I could never want less of you.”

hoseok x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.3K

a/n: Ok, I’m giggling because this was supposed to be much angstier than what it turned out to be lmao. But like, it’s Hobi and Petal, they just work shit out, idk lol. Anyways, these two are taking a big step in their relationship and it brings out some stress and insecurities and it leads to an argument that is really patched up very quickly lol. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

SITTING at the kitchen island, you scrolled through the photos displayed on your laptop screen of a seemingly perfect apartment that was currently available. The location was conveniently placed in close proximity to both yours and Hoseok’s workplaces, the apartment was stunning, and the building was safe and secure. It appeared to be exactly what you and your boyfriend were looking for.

It was a month ago when you and Hoseok decided you should move in together. He practically already lived at your place anyway, you loved having each other around, and you absolutely planned on spending the rest of your lives together. Finding a new place together felt right.

Bookmarking the page, you wrote down the realtor’s name and number and noted a few details about the living space. Clicking onto another apartment, tapping your pen on the notebook, your front door opened, the sound drawing your eyes to see Hoseok kicking his shoes off before meeting your gaze.

“Hey, Petal,” he gave you a small smile, his eyes darting to your hand that was tapping the pen repeatedly.

“Hi, Sunshine,” you grinned before turning back to the screen to pull up the perfect apartment once again. “Guess what I found,” you said excitedly, Hoseok humming as he approached you. As he peered over your shoulder at the screen, you gestured to the laptop with a playful, “ta-da!”

“Oh, an apartment?” He questioned.

“I really like it, look,” you started, Hoseok already losing focus as he took a step away from you.

“Petal, I just got home,” he pointed out, you turning to look at him, inspecting his features. Your heart dropped at the apprehension displayed in his expression. Throughout the past week, your boyfriend had been acting less and less interested in apartment hunting, and you were beginning to take it personally.

When you and Hoseok first decided to move in together, he was the one who suggested it, stating that he couldn’t wait to have a shared space with you.

Lying in bed together, your nude forms pressed together in a post-sex cuddle, you dragged your finger across his chest as he soothed his knuckles up and down the curve of your hip.

“I missed you,” he spoke softly into the moonlit room, the illumination pouring in through the bedroom window.

“Did you miss me or my bedroom skills?” You teased, Hobi chuckling as his hand moved to tickle your side, you squirming against him until you rolled on top of him, resting your chin on his chest. “I missed you too,” you admitted before bringing your finger to his nose, tapping it gently with a “boop”.

“Your apartment is too far from the studio and dorm when the schedule is packed,” he complained with a slight whine. He had been upset all week that he hadn’t been able to see you due to your hectic new job and his demanding idol schedule with a comeback in the works. “Six days is too long,” he added.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the dorm to visit,” you apologized, the man instantly shaking his head.

“No, our places are just too far apart,” he pointed out. “I couldn’t get over here either.”

With your eyes raking over his face, you huffed. “My apartment is too far from everything now,” you thought aloud. “It was good for university but now my job is closer to where you’re at and it just doesn’t really make sense to be living clear out here.”

“Are you thinking of moving?” He asked, his eyes widened.

“I don’t know,” you pondered. “Maybe?”

Your boyfriend nodded slowly, watching you carefully. Inspecting his expression, you knew there was something on his mind. “What is it?” You questioned him, the man smiling in response at being caught in thought.

“Well,” he started nervously, you staring at him curiously. “You’re thinking of moving,” he added, you humming in confirmation, “and well, I’ve been thinking of my life with you. Our future,” he clarified.

“Hobi,” you realized, making him smile wider.

“Would you want to move in together, Petal?” He asked, you holding back your smile as you stared at him.

“You’re not just suggesting this because I might want to move, are you?” You asked, Hobi quickly shaking his head. “Because this is a big decision, it can’t just be made out of convenience,” you added, your boyfriend chuckling as he tried to cut in. “Like we need to actually want this,” you continued, Hoseok smiling even wider.

Calling your name to get your attention, you stopped talking to appreciate the grin spread across his face. “I actually want this, Petal,” he assured you. “I’ve wanted it, I plan on spending my life with you, I obviously want to live with you.”

The words circled your mind for a moment before a smile broke out on your face. “I want this too,” you agreed easily. “Of course I do,” you added, more telling yourself than him. “I hate not having you here in the evening,” you realized suddenly.

“So, yes? Are we moving in together in?” He asked for clarification, you scrunching your nose at him, the man letting out a cute scream in excitement, you laughing in amusement of him. “Omg, you have champagne in the kitchen,” he realized, gently rolling you off him as he ran out of the bedroom butt ass naked to retrieve the celebratory drink, only to return a second later.

“Did you forget something?” You asked through your giggles, the man nodding.

“This,” he said just before kissing you hard and passionately, pouring every ounce of love he had for you into the action. The champagne could wait.

However, as time went on, Hoseok seemed to become anti-enthusiastic about the very real apartment hunt, and it made you worry he only liked the idea in theory. When put into action, he seemed to be changing his mind.

When you turned back to the screen, Hoseok sighed, noticing your dejection. “Ok, show me,” he started, moving closer to you as you shook your head, minimizing the tab as you pulled up your email, shifting focus as you continued tapping your pen against the notebook. “Petal,” he called out.

“No,” you said simply, not wanting to get into the fight that was inevitably on its way.

“Will you please just show me the apartment?” He asked, an annoyance in his tone. Scoffing at him, you continued tapping the pen against the notebook, Hoseok focusing in on the steady rhythm as you scrolled through the pointless junk emails. “Stop tapping that,” he suddenly spoke, you dropping the pen as you pushed your stool away from the counter.

Standing, you began to walk away, pushing past Hoseok only for him to reach for your hand. You let him take it, turning to look him in the eye.

“I don’t want you to look at the apartment because you feel like you have to, I want you to look at it because you want to, because you’re excited about living together, because-”

“I am excited,” he insisted, you rolling your eyes as you pulled your hand from his. “What?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve acted bothered every time I’ve brought up apartments to you for the past week,” you pointed out, Hoseok huffing as he watched you walk further into the kitchen. “Is it me?”

“What? No. Is what you?” He asked in concern and confusion, you staring at him as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Do you not want to live with me? Is that why you’re not excited?” You asked, holding back the emotions that were bubbling to the surface.

“I do want to live with you, there is not a single bit of truth in that entire thought process, so stop,” he told you firmly, you shrugging. “I’m just tired,” he defended his recent lack of interest, you shaking your head.

“Don’t blame whatever is happening on tiredness, I know you better than that,” you informed him, the man looking at you guiltily. “You went from being really enthusiastic about the whole process and loving every apartment to nitpicking the apartments over small things to completely avoiding looking at the apartments at all,” you continued. “Something is happening.”

The man simply stared at you for a moment, you biting your bottom lip as you tried conceal the tears that were quickly working their way to the surface. Instead of speaking, he looked to the laptop, placing his fingers on the track pad.

“Don’t,” you told him, closing the laptop, Hoseok moving his hand out of the way just before you shut it completely. “What is going on?” You asked him desperately, the tears pricking your eyes as they gathered along your bottom lash line. Sighing, he looked down at the pen. “Hoseok.”

“The pen tapping,” he whispered, you glaring at him in confusion.

“What?”

Looking up to meet your gaze, he noticed the tears, his face dropping at the realization that you were nearly crying because of him. “You tap your pen whenever you’re focusing on something,” he said, furthering your confusion.

“Ok?” You questioned. “So you don’t want to live with me because I tap my pen?” You asked, the man letting out a huff of air as he shook his head, you wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“No,” he spoke in a fragile voice. “I love when you do it. It’s cute and it’s how I know you’ve lost yourself in thought.” His own emotions began taking over as he tightened his jaw.

“What the fuck is happening, what are you saying?” You questioned in frustration, not understanding the point he was attempting to make.

“People say that the small things you love about a person sometimes become the stuff that drive a wedge between you,” he explained, you staring at him in disbelief.

“Seriously?” You questioned, your boyfriend scoffing at your judgmental tone.

“Just forget it,” he dismissed, turning his face away from you to wipe his eyes.

“No, let me get this straight,” you continued, Hoseok looking back at you with a glare. “You think our relationship is so fragile that being locked in a shared living space with me as I’m tapping my pen will be the ruination of us?” You asked him coldly. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“Jesus christ,” he complained, waving you off. “What I’m saying is that I’m scared,” he admitted. “It’s a big change and I’m scared that all the weird little things about me that you love now are going to end up being the things you hate.”

A small sob escaped your lips at the realization that he wasn’t concerned about him falling out of love with you, but rather you losing feelings for him. “Hoseok, do you understand how much I love you?”

“Yes,” he told you as a tear slid down his cheek. “But I also know how fiercely independent you are and I’m worried that with too much time with me, you’ll realize you want less of me,” he told you, revealing the insecurities he had been hiding away.

“But that’s so ridiculous,” you told him, the man shrugging. “Hoseok-” you started just as your phone rang, cutting you off. Your boyfriend looked at the device that sat next to your laptop.

“It’s your work,” he told you, you sighing.

“It can wait,” you told him, Hoseok shaking his head. “No, we’re not done,” you added, your boyfriend holding the phone out to you.

“The job is new, you need to answer this,” he told you, you shaking your head stubbornly. Pressing answer for you, he gestured to the phone, you huffing and cocking your head at him, taking the phone and bringing it to your ear. Sniffling, you greeted your coworker on the other side of the call.

Hoseok walked out of the kitchen, your eyes following his every step, you listening intently as he moved about the apartment. When the shower started, you tried to focus on the call, taking the opportunity to take care of your work while he was occupied. However, you couldn’t care less about the work issue when you knew your boyfriend, who was just feet away, was so scared of you losing feelings for him. Hoseok and his worries consumed every corner of your mind, making you resort to hums and one-word answers to the fellow employee on the phone.

By the time he stepped out of the shower and entered the bedroom, your work call had ended, you instead sitting back at the island as you looked through the photos of the perfect apartment over and over. How could he not know that you’ve pictured your future with the man since your first date? Your love wasn’t so frail that your feelings would just simply go away.

You not so patiently awaited his return to the kitchen to continue the previous discussion, but he never appeared. After about five minutes, you picked the laptop up and made your way to the bedroom, quietly peeking your head inside to find Hoseok underneath he covers in bed, his back turned to the door.

Despite the tension and the leftover frustration, the concern and hurt, you felt nothing but relief in that moment. Watching as his body rose up and down slightly in accordance to the inhales and exhales that entered and left his sleeping frame, you were just thankful that he was there. You always wanted him there.

Stepping into the room, you placed the laptop on your bedside table before crawling under the sheets, and turning toward your lover. You could only see the side of his face, but he looked peaceful as he slept. You were with him. Through all of it, whatever may come. And the knowledge that he questioned that was enough to elicit tears as you draped your arm around his waist, holding yourself tightly to him as you rested your cheek against his shoulder blade, matching the air that entered and left his lungs as he breathed in and out.

The man stirred at your touch, his hand finding yours that rested at the center of his abdomen, his larger one enclosing over yours.

“I don’t know how to assure you, but I’m just so happy you’re here right now,” you told him through your tears, the man immediately turning in your embrace to face you at the sound of your emotions.

“Petal,” he frowned, you hugging him tightly as you buried your face in his chest.

“I love you so much, I need you to feel it,” you cried to him, your boyfriend pressing his lips to the top of your head comfortingly.

“I do,” he promised. “It’s just a big step, I got overwhelmed.”

“I don’t always express myself as much as I should, but I need you to understand that my love for you is the most sincere and intense mix of emotions I’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling and I don’t ever plan on letting you go,” you told him in a surprise verbal confession that neither of you expected to leave your lips. “I love you, Jung Hoseok,” you told him, lifting your face from his chest to look him in the eye, no shame, no embarrassment present. “Thank you for being here,” you told him genuinely. “I always want you here.”

The man leaned his head toward you to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, you leaning into the touch. “I know that,” he whispered against your skin. “I do, I promise I do,” he assured you. “And I don’t want to be anywhere else than right here right now.” You sighed in relief, Hobi’s lips curving into a smile against your head. “Except maybe in our shared apartment,” he added, you giggling lightly at the comment.

“I know it’s overwhelming,” you told him. “I’m nervous for it too, but I’m sure of us.” Hoseok’s smiling lips pressed a few more kisses to your forehead quickly before he pulled away to look at you.

“I am too,” he nodded.

“Good,” you told him with a small smile. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I’m glad you did,” he chuckled.

Inspecting his sleepy features, you brought your hand to his face to run your finger along his cheek purposelessly. “How tired are you?” You asked.

“Why do you ask?” He questioned back, smiling fondly at your smirk.

“Can I show you the apartment?” You asked in a hopeful tone, Hoseok’s grin widening as he sat up quickly, nodding happily.

“Please, I really want to see it,” he told you, you wiggling in excitement before sitting up with him and reaching for the laptop.

“Ok, it’s located perfectly between your studio and my office, and it has a small little deck area, and the floors are hardwood, and omg it has a bathtub,” you ranted on, pulling the computer onto your lap. “Oh and wait until you see this fucking closet it’s mass-” you were cut off by Hoseok placing a finger to your chin, turning you toward him to immediately place his lips to yours, you easily kissing him back.

Your lips worked flawlessly against one another’s, his soft and warm as always. Pulling away from you, he beamed in utter adoration, you grinning shyly. “I really cannot wait to live with you,” he told you.

“Me too,” you agreed simply, back to your short words with big meaning. “And I could never want less of you,” you told him, the man’s gaze softening at your assurance. “Plus,” you added, intriguing your boyfriend. “If I ever get sick of you, I’ll just tell BigHit to send you on a worldwide tour,” you teased, Hoseok playfully scoffing in feigned disbelief.

“You’re so mean,” he joked, kissing your cheek repeatedly, you giggling at the action.

“You’re so obnoxious,” you retorted happily.

“I know,” he grinned, pecking your lips softly. “Now show me this thing,” he told you, gesturing to the laptop.

“Ok,” you turned to the screen, clicking on the first image. “We could have a little garden here,” you told him, “and oh my god, look, we could put a little bed here for Mickey so he can bask in the sun.”

As you went through the photos excitedly, explaining your vision to him, he could see everything vividly. Waking up and walking into the kitchen to see you dancing around to music as the coffee brewed. Cuddling on the couch with you as you both attempted to watch yet another horror movie, only getting five minutes in before you both called it quits, turning on an animated film instead. On the rare days he got home before you, he would cook you dinner at that stovetop and when you came in and greeted him gratefully, you’d sit at the kitchen island and you’d tell each other about your days. On lazy Sundays, he could see you sitting on the deck area reading a book, Mickey in your lap as you read aloud to the little pup.

Every room, every space, he could see your lives happening.

“Can you call the realtor in the morning?” He suddenly asked as you explained the specifications of the apartment.

“You want me to?” You asked, looking toward him, meeting his smile with your own.

“I love it,” he told you, you scrunching your nose before discarding the laptop to the bottom of the bed, promptly crawling onto your boyfriend’s lap as you kissed all around his face in excitement and happiness.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated between kisses, the man giggling as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I love you so much, Petal,” he replied. “I love our life.”

He truly did. And he loved your future. No matter what it brought, he already loved it. Because it was yours, together.

266 notes · View notes

luvspence · 3 years

Text

roommates (IV)

spencer reid x reader

synopsis: roomates roomates you know the drill

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

more roommate fluff -> I, II, III

———

lily

you were a dog person

cats gave you allergies, and you always thought they were mean

but spencer

loved cats

every time you two would pass by the animal shelter on the way to the grocery store

“y/n please!!!! please let’s go in!!! i just wanna look”

you could never say no to him so often you followed him into the shelter, watching as he waved to every cat

on one of these occasions spencer was reading the summary of a little gray cat named lily

“lily is a mellow kitty with a lot of love to give! she loves to cuddle next to you and fall asleep on your lap. she ha-“

he was cut off my the shelter employee

“saying hi to lily? i love her. unfortunately we have to put her down tomorrow”

“WHAT” spencer nearly passed out at the idea of killing this little kitty

“yeah, she has a respiratory condition, so if she doesn’t get adopted today we have to put her down”

spencer looked at you with pleading eyes

with “please let’s save this cat” eyes

with “i’ll literally buy you all the allergy medicine” eyes

you looked at him, then the cat, then him again

you couldn’t say no

you nodded your head and before you knew it you were walking down the street, lily in a carrier in spencers hand

“this is so great”

spencer was rambling on and on

“you know you’re gonna love her, just take an antihistamine and you’ll be fine”

you sighed and looked at him and the cat

you crouched down to lily, gave her a pet on the head

she reciprocated by scratching your arm and sending you into a sneezing attack

you looked at spencer, eyes watering from the allergies, runny nose and all

“your lucky i love you spence, because this cat will be the death of me”

———-

sos!

“he’s kinda werid y/n...”

“says the man who just knows the surface area of every major lake in america”

spencer was sitting on the floor of the bathroom while you go ready for your date

“okay,,,, he’s a little strange, that’s why we’re having our date here!, so you can help me if need be”

“still, this idea doesn’t sit right with me”

it actually didn’t matter who the guy was

it could’ve been the most perfect guy in the world and it still wouldn’t sit right with spencer

because in his eyes, no one way right for you, no one was good enough for you

and he wrote that off as being “overprotective” when he really just just jealous

you finished curling your hair and turned to him

“how do i look?”

he stared at you in the bathroom of the apartment, you were dressed casually, but you put up your hair into one of those little bungee cord hair ties that spencer adored. as well as a fun patterned grandma sweater that you two found together at the thrift store

“b-beatiful, in the truest form y/n”

you gave him a smile

“aweee! you’re gonna make me blush”

you headed out the bathroom to set up

“wish me luck! and i’ll call sos if need be”

“okay! have fun”

—-

the entire night spencer would practically hear your uncomfortableness from his room

how often your date crack a joke and you’d awkwardly laugh, or you’d talk about something your passionate about and he’d make an insensitive joke

spencer decided it was time to try and intervene, he walked out into the kitchen and saw you doing dishes

“oh tyler this is my roommate, spencer”

“why hello there spencer! isn’t he a handsome fellow, if you have him why did you even bother inviting me over”

you gave him a half smile and spencer stood next to you while you washed dishes

you and spencer both were fluent in american sign language

so you signed

“ S O S “

in the sink to get the message across

spencer nodded

tyler was asking spencer “so how do you contain yourself while living with someone that looks like that!”

spencer gave him a look, he was clearly creepy and you were visibly uncomfortable

right when tyler was about to open his mouth spencer said

“oh i’m sorry, i’m getting a phone call”

he picked up the phone

“hello?

oh hi

right now??

okay okay i’ll tell her

okay thanks so much hotch”

he turned around and looked at you

“look tyler, that was our unit chief and we’re getting called in on an emergency case”

“oh damn! they need both of you?”

you stepped out of the kitchen

“yup, the whole team, i just got the text from penelope”

“aw rats! well i guess i could walk you guys down then?”

you and spencer looked at each other, you both knew there was no case

“y-yeah let’s go”

you grabbed your coat and spencer grabbed his keys

tyler made conversation with himself while you and spencer scurried down the stairs

“well, y/n i had a lot of fun tonight, call me?”

“yeah... for sure”

he went in fir a kiss but before he could open his eyes you and spencer were driving down the road

“oh. my. god.”

spencer just laughed

“i can’t believe that just happens to me”

“i told you so!”

“oh my god! i’ve got to listen to you more often”

“indeed, now we have to drive to the bau in case this creep is going in the same direction”

you sighed and looked back, thankfully he wasn’t there, but you didn’t mind making the drive with spencer

“thank you spence thank you”

“anytime y/n”

———

one bed 😱

{this is cheesy but it’s a classic}

“cimex lectularius, more commonly known as the bed bug. usually feeding on human blood, their bites have usually an allergic affec-“

“spencer, can you just hold your end”

you and spencer were dispensing of your bed bug ridden mattress

“ugh! this is so gross spence”

you said as you lowered the mattress into the dumpster

“i hate this”

——

later that night you were packing a bag

“hey where are you going?”

“pens, she’s letting me sleep on her couch until my new mattress comes”

spencer’s face went sad, he hated when you left

“we have a couch here!”

“it’s too small”

“y/n... penelopes is all the way other other side of town, and i don’t want you driving their all by yourself “

you sighed

“jeez you sound like my mother, and spence a girls gotta sleep somewhere”

spencer looked at his bed then you

“i have a bed”

“spencer you sleep in that bed”

“yeah but it’s a big bed! and i don’t mind! and wouldn’t you rather be at home with all your stuff?”

you looked around for a second

“are you sure?”

“yeah i’m sure”

“thank you spence”

you said as you started to unpack your bag

you worked at the computer until around midnight when you decided it was time to head to bed, you found spencer awkwardly curled up on the left side

you crawled into bed trying to take up as little room as possible on the right edge

spencer flipped onto his side

“y/n you’re about to fall off the bed”

you pretended to not hear him and before you knew it he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you the center of the bed

“well hello there”

“hi spence”

you two laid there next to each other for a while, so badly wanting to be closer but also not wanting to violate any boundaries

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you cold?”

you lied

“kind of”

“me too, here is it okay if i come closer?”

“yeah of course”

he scooted up next to you, and you slumped into his chest a little, until you eventually drifted off

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fluffy #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n

102 notes · View notes

cheeriecherry · 4 years

Note

Can I request bakugo, kirishima and shoji with a reader who has adhd? It's totally fine if u can't, but I love seeing hcs about stims and stuff,, thank u :) !

//raises hand// u mean me <:3c I have adhd so prepare for a lot of uhhhhh habits that I have-

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

-This guy knows fuckall about ADHD lbr

-He’s the guy who can sit down and study and stay focused, who keeps a regular sleep schedule, who sits still in class (for the most part). Sure, he’s shouty, but he’s not got a clue about what you deal with.

-Before he really gets to know you, he thinks you’re a pain in the ass ngl. Like, why can’t you study, it’s not that hard? What do you mean you didn’t go to bed until 3am because falling asleep is ‘boring’? Sorry when was the last time you showered - what do you mean you thought you already did it?!

-It’s probably frustrating to deal with his remarks. Like, he’s judging you for something that’s out of your control.

-It’s best to just lay it out flat for him; call him out for being an asshole. Not only because he’s just being rude, but because he’s being rude about things that are out of your hands.

-He’ll feel guilty about it, but he won’t say anything. Which kind of sucks, because an apology would be nice but...be patient with him also, he’s still learning.

-He would probably take it upon himself to learn what the heck adhd even is, and how it affects people. And what kinds of things you can do to help with it!

-He’d be quieter around you after that, and more lenient. He’d still help you study, but he’d be less gung-ho about shoving your face in a book. Sometimes he’ll read the paragraphs to you while you follow along or make notes, and he’ll help you make summary pages that are organised and colour coded for easy access.

-He finds a neat little fidget toy online and orders one for you, it’s like. A little cube with buttons and switches and little rolly things on each side, very good for when you’re in class and your leg is bouncing and you’re twirling your pen around while staring at the ceiling.

-He definitely can relate to the emotional side of adhd tho. Feeling Everything or Nothing, not really being able to control or get a handle on intense emotions, having outbursts sometimes. He doesn’t really know how to help you with that, because he is, in fact, a loud boi. It’s probably pretty common that you’ll yell something and he’ll yell back, but it devolves into a basic conversation at a high volume.

-Once he gets to know you and starts dating you, he’ll think your mannerisms are cute. The way you sway back and forth while you’re standing, the little wiggly thing you do with your hands when you’re excited for something.

-He also really likes watching you train, and training with you. Your brain goes fast and the rest of you follows, so it’s pretty common for you to lay waste to your opponents. When you don’t doubt yourself, your instinct shines through and you’re incredibly clever.

-It carries over to conversations sometimes, where you’ll always have some quick remark to smack somebody with when they talk shit.

-He’s seen the downsides of adhd, but he also sees the kind of pros it can have, and he sees how hard you work to get things done in spite of it. He thinks you’re pretty cool.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

-He also doesn’t know what adhd, not really.

-He’s heard of it, but only the stereotypes. The ‘can’t sit still, always talking, not very smart’ stereotypes. So he probably sees your behaviours and doesn’t connect the dots.

-He notices you staring out the window a lot in class, and not really giving much to group conversation. Plus you sometimes need people to repeat things, two or three or four times, before it clicks with you. He doesn’t think you’re dumb, not at all (he’s seen your grades and you’re definitely not dumb) but he does wonder what’s up with you.

-He’ll probably ask you one day, after seeing you watching a movie with subtitles on, despite it being in your native language. Just be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you have adhd.

-He’ll probably be the guy to say ‘but you dont act like you have adhd’ because all he has to go off of are stereotypes. It’s important to set him straight. Tell him what it’s really like, the good parts, the bad parts, the ugly parts.

-The ‘not being able to tidy anything up because the stars aren’t in alignment’ parts. The ‘everything looks horribly disorganized but you know where everything is’ parts. The ‘I haven’t brushed my teeth in three days because I lost track of time’ parts.

-He already thought pretty good of your before, but now that he knows you really have to fight to be where you are, he’s in awe. You’re such a strong person, which he really admires.

-If you do something that’s ‘weird’ he’ll ask you to explain it. He’s honestly just curious, and wants to learn more about you and what drives you, so don’t be offended by it.

-But he’ll definitely like the fidget toys you have, particularly the squishy or stretch ones. And he finds that your study tricks really help him in terms of paying attention, and he’s able to absorb the material better. You guys always make sure to create study sheets together that are laid out well and easy to access.

-He also really like the energy you have during training, and often seeks you out to partner up. Whereas sitting in a classroom isn’t your strong suit, being out on the field and moving around is. You’re got a quick wit and a smart brain, and when you’re using your body at the same time, it’s easier to keep track of your thoughts and put them into action.

-10/10 loves the shit out of you and lowkey brags to everyone about how good his S/O is.

SHOJI MEZO

-The quietest and most understanding of the bunch.

-He -like the others- probably also doesn’t know much about adhd, but he’s far more relaxed about it when you tell him. He’s kind of just like ‘oh, okay’ and it doesn’t change his opinion of you.

-But when he sees how it really affects you, that’s when he starts to think differently.

-He’s not a bad student in terms of grades. he’s pretty mediocre, both in hero training and classes, and he’s okay with it. But he sees how much you bust your ass just to be where you are, and he’s certainly not envious.

-When you tell him what other kinds of fun things you have to deal with, he probably feels a little bad for you at first. He’s already self conscious about himself, so if he had to go through the things you do, his self esteem would probably be pretty low.

-but he really respects that you’re owning your adhd, and working with it instead of trying to ignore it and make it go away.

-Plus, with cons come pros, and you have so many of them. It can be hard to get into things sometimes, but once you do? He’s seen the way you get when you hyperfocus, and the amount you can achieve when you’re in that state. He’s learned not to bother you until you’re done whatever you’re doing when you’re focused, knowing that once you lose it, it’s gone and you’ll never get it back.

-And the way you enthuse about your interests is adorable. he admire you passion and knowledge about certain subjects, and the lengths you’re willing to go to in order to learn about them.

-He doesn’t usually like being your partner during training, mostly because you kick his ass using sped and intelligence alone. Plus your stamina and unwillingness to stay knocked down is...something. Something real good.

-He definitely sees the appeal of fidget toys. After he tries yours, he’ll probably get one for himself, and keep it in his off hand while he’s working. I mean, six arms, y’know? That’s like four more arms to not be busy with when he’s working, and four more arms of sensory input. Having something to fiddle with actually helps his concentration too.

-Speaking of sensory input, this guy gives the best hugs when you’re overstimulated by something. A good squeeze calms down the sympathetic nervous system, and he’s hands down the best at hugs. He holds you tightly and blocks out whatever light and noise that he can, until you’ve calmed down and are more equipped to deal with things.

-You two mesh pretty well together, and there’s a lot he can learn from you. He respects you and cares about you!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #shoji x reader shoji mezo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #Anonymous

285 notes · View notes

shield-agent78 · 3 years

Text

Winter’s Lessons: Crashed Into You~ Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Clint x Reader (platonic), Clint x Bucky (platonic), Steve x Bucky (platonic), Reader x Steve (platonic), OOC x Reader (platonic) Sam x Bucky (platonic)

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, anguish, fluff, children with disabilities, mentions of autism, a little sass, cocky Bucky

Rating: R

Summary: You’re a school teacher for students with special needs who is passionate about her job but has neglected taking time out for herself. He is handsome, cocky and an Avenger. What happens when a newfound relationship just might turn out to be exactly what you both need?

Word Count: 3238

Square Filled: holding hands Marvel Fluff Bingo @marvelfluffbingo

A/N: Thank you to my beta @mindingmyownbusiness Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Dedicated to: @one-crazy-writer @averyrogers83

Since childhood, you had always wanted to be a teacher. You adored your students and they seemed to respond well to you. However, because of budget cuts, you had not been given a contract for the next school year. You stood in your classroom packing up the few personal items you had left off of your desk as your teacher’s aid walked into the room.

“So what are you planning to do y/n?” Laura sighed, as she helped you place your last remaining items into your box.

“I’m not too sure yet. I’m just thankful that I have a little time to think it over. Bucky said he wants me to come and visit him for a while so I think I might just take him up on his offer.” You grab your box as you and Laura walk down the hall of the school to the parking lot.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“8 months now," you respond happily. "He is something else.”

“I’m sure he is.” You give her a wink with a small giggle as you loaded your box into the trunk of your car. She gives you a supporting hug before leaving you to make the two-hour drive to the compound.

(Fall-8 Months Ago)

“Miss Y/L/N, does this look ok?” Darius asks as he looks up at you from his desk. His little eight-year-old hands hold up the card he made for his very favorite Avenger, the Winter Soldier. On the outside, it is a crude picture of himself with Bucky Barnes playing on swings. You beam with pride. He is doing so well in class. You had taught Darius, for over a year and a half with a special curriculum designed for students with autism. He now knows his numbers and letters and can read some basic sight words. "Miss Y/L/N do you really think that he will like it? You know he is my very favorite Avenger." You stoop down and examine his card closer as you take his little hand in yours and help him sign his name.

“I think he will love it, Darius.” The little boy looks up at you with his large chocolate eyes and smiles. His large smile could touch his eyes without even trying. Suddenly there is a knock at the door. You stand up as you run your hands down your black pencil skirt. Look professional, breathe, and they will have fun. Secretly you are as excited as your students and thankful that you had chosen your favorite black skirt with black and white blouse for today. “Ok, guys let’s give them a warm welcome,” you announce to the class. Seven little faces beam up at you as they all smile and look excitedly at the door. The kids have waited so long for this day and they can’t wait to meet their favorite superheroes.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and open the door where you are presently surprised to have three of them visit with your students. Clint, Steve, and Bucky stroll into your classroom with a round of cheers from your students. They take turns introducing themselves and shaking hands with you as well as each student. As they mingle and talk to the students you look upon them in awe. Especially one Mr. Bucky Barnes. He seems to take a liking to the students immediately. His Greek god-like features make you nervous. You watch him intensely and notice he spends a lot of time hanging out with Darius. Bucky’s eyes find you as he gives you a slight smirk. You blush knowing that you just got caught checking him out.

“So what do you think of him?” Laura, your paraprofessional, asks as she bumps down the temperature in your classroom. You eye her suspiciously as she just shrugs. “It’s 100 degrees out today and we have three very hot guys in this room….Besides, you asked me to…”

“Keep me from saying anything stupid, and keep me in check,” you mutter as you tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear eyeing the men as they visit your students.

“And?”

“I think I said, I was hoping the Greek god would cool me down not heat me up!” Laura throws back her head in laughter which in turn catches the ears of Bucky. He excuses himself from Darius and begins walking toward you two.

“Here comes the Greek god,” Laura mumbles playfully.

You look up with a wide-eyed expression. “Who has a great sense of hearing, remember?” you retort through a gritted smile. She gives you a wicked smile as her green eyes shine brightly. “Don’t you dare…”

“Me? Now would I ever do anything that would embarrass you Miss Y/L/N?”

“Every chance you get,” you giggle “but I’ve known you for how long? And outside of work you would any chance you get. Don’t you remember when…” Your words trail off as you come face to face with a set of bright blue eyes. His hair pulled back loosely, scruff, stonewashed jeans, and a black polo with the Avengers symbol on the left breast. Oh god, help me. Breathe y/n, breathe. “Augh, hi Mr. Barnes.” Laura turns and lets out a small giggle walking toward Clint who is asking about your curriculum and teaching style. You both know your job here will be might be ending this year due to budget cuts so she is determined to put a good word in with whoever on your behalf no matter when or where.

“Bucky, please.”

“Bucky.” The name tastes like sweet honey on your lips and you know right then you could get drunk on his name with just one taste.

“I was just wondering who is in the photo behind you?” He motions to the shelf behind you with his right hand as your heart stops for a moment.

“Pic…picture? Oh,” you spin around and look at it for a moment. It is a young man in a Class A Army uniform. You turn back around and smile. “My grandfather. He, ugh, he served during World War II in the South Pacific.” You beam up looking into his eyes. He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat again.

“Where are you from?”

“Y/H/S (your home state).”

“So how did you end up here? I mean in New York?”

“I wanted an adventure,” you answer honestly, “and a change of scenery so here I am. It gives me a chance to make a difference and experience the world I guess. My family thinks I’m crazy for it but you know… .” Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets looking at you intensely for a moment.

“I think it’s very brave of you and shows that you are willing to do whatever it takes to make a difference for kids especially these here.”

“Th..thank you,” you stammer as you make your way beside him for a moment stooping down to hand Sara her card she made for Captain America. She reaches her little hand out as she rolls her wheelchair closer to Steve. She is a huge Captain America fan. You can’t help but laugh for a moment as she reaches out with her small hand and grabs hold of Steve’s right arm.

“Do you have a girlpen? Can I be et? I wike you avot.” She asks dead serious-looking up at his face. Steve smiles, stoops down and takes Sara’s small six-year-old hand in his large one.

“I think I may be a little too old for you, Doll, but you can be my best little friend until you find a boyfriend.” Sara ponders his response for a moment and then smiles widely as she hugs Steve content with his answer.

“Sorry, you were saying?” You turn and face Bucky for a moment. He shifts nervously from one foot to another for a moment while stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“How about you? You have a boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Well, in that case, can I get your number or better yet “On fait quoi ce soir?” (What are we doing tonight?) He raises his eyebrow in question with a smirk. You process his words quickly thanks to the little bit of French class you had in college. You give him a stern look; the one you give your students sometimes, and he knows immediately his cocky play won’t work with you. He opens his mouth to try again as you raise your eyes in question. This stops his next cocky remark dead in its tracks. You're not like the other modern-day girls he has dated. Just because he is an Avenger that is great eye candy doesn’t mean you are going to run into his open arms begging him to take you in more ways than you can imagine. “Coffee date?” he chuckles.

“Coffee sounds nice. Here,” you take your blue pen and scribble your number down onto a pink sticky note handing it to him. “Call me Bucky and we’ll go from there. Please.”

“It’s a date doll,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease, “ I mean y/n.” You feel your cheeks pink up as you return his smile.

By the end of their visit that afternoon, Bucky found a small friend in Darius and had your successfully scored number stored in his phone.

(October)

“I can’t believe you gave him the teacher look,” Laura states, pouring you a cup of coffee. You are sitting at a small table overlooking Central Park. The fall leaves of golds and oranges rushing in the trees make the park lovely this time of year.

“And I can’t believe you are working here where I am about to have a date with Bucky.” You sigh looking nervously down at your phone twisting it loosely in your hands. “He should be here in ten minutes. What if he doesn’t show Laura? What if he really doesn’t like me. He is an Avenger and damn good looking. Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into?” You ask staring out the window with a sigh.

“Y/N. Stop it,” she snaps. You turn your attention back to her as you hear the bell of the quiet shop doorbell ring as it is pushed open. In steps Bucky Barnes. His hair is framing his face, the right amount of scruff on his face, maroon Henley with a pair of dark jeans. A small smile creeps onto his face as he sees you sitting at the table. Your breath hitches and you don’t know whether it is him or not but right now you have to will your body to breathe. Laura looks up to see what has caught your glare as she whispers “breathe and smile,” before walking away as Bucky approaches you.

“Hi. Wow, you look beautiful doll.” He stares truthfully moving to sit down on the cushioned chair in front of you. You can’t help but smile. You had only changed ten times looking for the right dress to wear before deciding on a light mingled fall color hauteur dress. The matching blue sweater discarded around the back of your chair for ten minutes now. Yes, you had been early but Laura had calmed your nerves, well at least some of them.

“Thank you.” You shake your head in disbelief. No man has ever got you feeling this way and now you nervously fidget with the corner of your flowing skirt. Bucky gives you a smirk reading you perfectly. Of course, he does.

He clears his throat before speaking snapping you out of your trance. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me. I really had my doubts you would.” You cock your head at him in question.

“Why?” You ask while taking a swig of your coffee.

“Just because you're not like the typical dames, I mean, women I date. You’re, well, you’re not impressed because of my job nor care to bang me just because of it.” You almost choke in your drink and have to cough to cover up a slight giggle. Bucky gives you a wide-eyed look for a moment as you gain your composure. Boy, he is a cocky son of a bitch, you think.

“No, I’ve never been the type of wham bam thank you ma’am type of woman I guess. It’s fine for others but not me.” Secretly you're hoping that he's not that type of guy. Bucky shakes his head yes in understanding. His jaw set firm for a moment before speaking.

“Good to know because I’m tired of girls like those.” You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He takes a sip of his coffee Laura has just put down in front of him. “Hey, don’t you work with her?” His eyes knit together in question.

“Yes, she’s my teacher’s aide. Laura works here part-time to help pay her bills; it’s hard for her to make a living on a small salary.” You give him a small smile as you take another sip. “Why did it take you forever to call me?” You ponder out loud. It’s been a month since you have given him your number.

“I was on a mission,” Bucky answers bluntly. You feel your body tense up from his tone. You didn’t mean to sound so bitchy. Great, you are blowing this big time. He eyes you as you glance down nervously at your cup then back up. Bucky can’t help but notice your embarrassment and he now regrets his tone as well.

“Oh, I augh…I’m glad you are ok. Sorry I didn’t mean to sound, I don’t know, like a bitch about it really…” Bucky shakes his head no and it stops you dead in your tracks.

“No, no please don’t apologize,” he says quietly as his eyes soften. He reaches out and rests his large hand on top of yours sending calming vibes throughout your body. “You would have no idea.” Your body immediately relaxes from his touch, causing him to give you a small smile. “Trust me, I wasn’t blowing you off I promise it’s not like that because when I see something I want I generally go after it.” Your face becomes flushed at his words as you give him a small smile.

“Good to know.”

You two spend the next two hours getting to know one another. He asks you questions about your family and grandparents. You ask him about him and what he enjoys most in this modern time. The conversation comes easy and by the time the sun is starting to set all you want is for him to ask you out again. Bucky takes your hand softly in his and walks you out of the coffee shop down the street. You shiver slightly in the cool autumn air and pull your sweater close around your body.

Bucky stops and moves in front of you. He removes his black bomber jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.the coolness of his left hand sends delightful shivers down your spine. He gives you a cocky smile and pulls you closer to him. You stand there frozen for a moment trying to make a comprehensive sentence, however you are lost in his sapphire eyes. His eyes flicker to your lips and back up almost asking for permission to kiss you. Your lips part for a moment to speak but nothing comes out. He cups your face with his right hand stroking your pink lips slightly with his thumb. He bends down and softly tastes your lips. His kiss sends shock waves through your body. Your lips move in sync with his almost like they have been waiting for his plump lips since the beginning of time.

After a moment Bucky breaks the kiss.“Go out with me again. In fact, date only me. What do you say, Doll?”

“Ye-Yes," you stammer as your heart races so fast that you know he can hear it. Bucky looks down at you and smirks.

“So,” he drapes his arm around your shoulders as you both continue to walk down the sidewalk “you know I’m at the compound now upstate.” You hum in agreement still coming down from your high. “We have to work out the distance thing.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that I have my cottage in upstate New York.” You snuggle closer to him enjoying his warmth.

“Cottage?” He gives you a sideways glance. “How can you pay the rent in two places?”

“The cottage I inherited from my grandparents. I’m up there almost every weekend and especially on breaks. Why?”

“Like I said when I see something I want Doll, I usually go for it hard,” he answers cockily while giving you a smirk. You stop walking and look up at him. His cocky soldier ways work great on the battlefield but that is something he doesn’t need to do in order to impress you and you hate the name Doll he keeps using. What are you? Plastic or something. Might as well address that now.

“Are you always this cocky Winter?” You tease. Buck cocks his eyebrow at you giving you an amused puzzled look that you can’t help but giggle at.

“Winter?” He draws the word out slowly as to be testing it on his lips.

“Yep just figured if you were calling me Doll I needed to call you something as well.” You say with sass.

“So I gather you don’t like Doll. Hmm how about honey?” He takes his large hand in yours. You shake your head no as you scrunch up your nose.

“That’s even worse. Sounds like I’m Winnie the Pooh or something,” you answer giving him a teasing smile that Bucky returns.

“Ok, how about Darlin’?” He questions with an eyebrow raised. You smile widely and he knows right away that is what you like.

“So Darlin’ it is.” Bucky chuckles causing a small blush to creep up onto your cheeks. He pulls you closer to his side as he walks you to your black Accord. You click the unlock button on your remote and he opens the door for you as you slide into the driver's seat. Bucky leans down and kisses you again softly. “I’ll call you tonight Darlin’.”

“You better Winter.” He beams down at you as you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Oh, your jacket!” You hand it to him. Bucky pulls it on now having it smell like your perfume. He knows Sam will probably rag him about it but he could care less. You kiss him on the cheek and drive away as every fiber in your body is calling out to you to stay.

(Later)

“How did the date go with Y/N?” Steve asks as he plops down beside Bucky at the kitchen table.

“Yah man,” Sam joins in, “You haven’t told us anything. She’s not like the typical girls you bring home.”

“Whatcha mean by that Bird Brain?” Bucky growls glancing up at Sam as he takes a bite of his burger.

“Nothin’ man, just that she’s smart, attractive and seems to really like you.” He notes each one my checking them off on his fingers. “Damn you must have done something to impress her.”

“Guess so,” Bucky grumbles. “Or, maybe I’m just damn lucky.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #avengers #robin writes #steverogers #clintbarton #sam willson #marvel fluff bingo #winter’s lessons #nicolasfam #bucky x reader #darlin' writes #mcu fanfic #avenger fanfiction #marvel fanfic series

83 notes · View notes

mofieroll · 4 years

Text

Cloud Nine (Giorno Giovanna x F!Reader)

A Post!VA Giorno Giovanna x Reader one shot where you meet him after being separated in childhood, and bond with his gang.

AU: Everybody Lives

Word Count: 5.4k

The rustling of papers, followed by a scribbling of pen, engulfed the room of a busy man. Daylight and wind coming from the balcony and windows helped him read through the documents with no problem. It was a nice sunny day, but it's nothing special for someone flooded with loads of work and responsibilities.

Since the day they defeated Diavolo, the previous evil boss of Passione, a mafia organization that stands at the top in Italy, and had his high-ranking position taken, the new boss made sure to achieve his justified dream and clean up the dirty mess in the organization. It was easier said than done: starting from removing and adding new rules, stopping operations that involved children and drugs, proving that he's worthy of being Passione's boss — as someone who has taken down a powerful boss with a heart of gold, he won't be one to use violent means to gain respect unless thoroughly provoked —, protecting himself against loyal followers of Diavolo, and many things that can either be said or is trivial in the mafia world.

That's just a gist of the work of Gang-STAR, Giorno Giovanna, and he's glad that he doesn't need to look out for his back because of his resilient comrades that he shared influencial goodness with.

“Giorno, Mista called me to meet you. I say, this must be something serious,” A man with straight bowl cut and gold pins wearing a black and gold suit entered after receiving permission to enter Giorno's office, “Are you going to send me somewhere?”

Giorno placed the documents and his pen aside, looking up to the man as he leaned his arms on his table, “Yes, although, it's a simple task.” He pushed a folder, which he got from a drawer, across the table for the other man to see.

The man took the folder and read the papers inside as he noted of the important details, “This is.. a profile of a girl and her father who's a well-known government official. For what exact reason did you show me this?”

“You should've known, Bucciarati. Of course we'd be babysitting that girl,” A man with long purple hair and lips who had a goth style entered, “Sorry not sorry for barging in, Giorno,” He lazily said as he walked to the two men on the table, the mentioned latter only nodding at him, “You could stop hiding now, Narancia. Giorno said it's okay for us to go in.”

“Eh? Are you sure, Abbacchio?” Another man, who seemed to be more fitting of the word best boy, peeked from the outside of the door, his orange headband being the most noticeable, “I didn't hear Giorno say something since we came here earlier!”

“Clean your ears, didn't you hear him talk to Bucciarati?” Abbacchio replied.

Giorno looked at Bucciarati as a demand of explanation, “We had hesitations on knocking, Giorno. It makes sense that you're busy and we wouldn't want to disturb you, especially since you haven't left this room for days.” He received, making him nod in understanding.

Narancia had now entered the room, reading the folder and sitting on the couch with Abbacchio as Bucciarati sat on one of the chairs in front of Giorno's table, “So, you're saying that I'll be bringing her to you from the airport, and that's it?” Bucciarati asked with ceased brows, receiving a quiet nod from the blonde.

“It doesn't make one hell of a sense. So what if she's the daughter of a politician? That doesn't make her special to have the mafia as her bodyguards,” Abbacchio raised a brow at Giorno, snatching the folder from Narancia's hold and slid it on the coffee table, “THAT doesn't make her special to have YOU as her bodyguard, Giorno.” He pointed out, resting his back on the couch with crossed arms like an angry dad.

Narancia scratched his head with a scrunched nose, “Isn't it exactly what makes her special? Being a child of a famous politician is no joke, so it'd be safer for them to have the mafia on their side, right?” He asked in confusion, making Abbacchio glance at him with an ‘I know that, idiot’ look.

Bucciarati cleared his throat, “What Abbacchio and Narancia's trying to say is, we understand that her life is on the line because she'll be alone for a whole month here in Italy, but why does it have to be you, Giorno, that has to take care of her? You have better things to do as Passione's new boss, we could easily do it for you.” He told Giorno who was expectant of their questions.

“That is not what I—”

“Yeah, totally! It's like how we did with Trish, you know? Oh, we could just take her to Trish too, Giorno! Girls have this thing for each other—”

Narancia stopped himself after receiving a warning glance from the capo, and also realizing that he was face-to-face with his boss. This is work they're talking about. Chats, even if it's with his closest friends, aren't welcome right now.

“I understand your concerns, Abbacchio, Bucciarati. And thank you for the suggestion, Narancia, but I've already decided that she'll be staying with me. I trust that she won't be much of a nuisance than we think she would be, so my significant work for Passione won't get disturbed. There is absolutely no reason to worry,” Giorno glanced at Bucciarati, “I would only need Bucciarati to bring her to me, and that will be all. You don't need to get involved, Abbacchio.”

“You made it sound like you know her well, Giorno. But since you gave me permission not to care, that's what I'll be doing. You have my thanks.” Abbacchio stood up and raised his hands, making a roll motion on one before he bowed and had the three men watch him leave the room.

Narancia did not follow the long-haired man, and instead firmly sat on the couch with a pout on his face, “Is there something you want to tell me, Narancia?” Giorno asked, figuring that the boy had an unspoken thought in his mind.

Bucciarati excused himself, bowing before he says that he'll be preparing the car. Narancia waited for him to leave before jumping from the couch to the seat in front of Giorno's table, who had been waiting for him to speak up.

“This is my only chance now that the oldies are out of the way— Giorno, can I go with Bucciarati?” He asked after preventing the chair from falling. Giorno nodded, “Then— can we hang with her? Like if she's with you and stuff? I'm.. kind of missing Trish so..”

Right, of course Narancia would be excited that a girl would be bonding with them again even if it's not Trish, who moved somewhere in Italy to continue and enjoy the life she deserved. Giorno saw no harm in letting his group connect with you, so he nodded once again.

Narancia grinned, jumping from the chair to the ground with a fist above. He faced Giorno to bow, almost reaching the floor, and ran to the door as he regained his energy. Giorno felt himself smile, silently glad that he got through an adventure with the same people that he's with now.

“Ah, thanks Giorno! You're the best boss! We'll be sure to bring [Y/N] safe!”

[Y/N].. [Y/N] [L/N]. The name of someone who he thought he'd never see again. Someone he met as Giorno, but kept calling him Haruno because she thought he'd remember him better if she does. Now that he recalls it, more flashbacks of you came into mind, driving him to have a break from work and chill on the balcony. He leaned on the fence and observed the garden below him.

You were a childhood friend of Giorno's that he met here in Italy. You belonged to a wealthy family who had connections to the people on the upper hierarchy, consisting of an overwhelming line of successful politicians. When he knew of this, he was already your bestfriend who you invited to hang out at your family mansion, and there he felt at home more than he did at his own. Your mother was a simple and humble woman while your father was the tough and thoughtful kind. Giorno saw for himself how you managed to be sweet yet cunning at the same time — you often scared off his bullies —, making him develop a puppy crush on you at the age of eight.

Everything was going well with you and your family on his side, your father privately scaring his father if he intended to hurt him more, your mother trying to make his mother understand that he needs proper loving and care. But then, it had to end. For a reason unknown to him and yourself, your family had to move to another country, and that's with no proper goodbyes.

It's not really the time to be melancholic, you're coming back at Italy after all. How did he even know of you and your family's whereabouts if you were gone in his life for a decade now? Simple, because if the boss of Passione aims to achieve something, he'll use his available resources to get it. Relating that to you, he'd say that connecting with your family and meeting you again was his goals, and he's proud that he overcame it. After speaking to your father and proving to him that he's to be trusted with your well-being and safety, he was informed that your father will be sending you to Italy for vacation. Your father even thanked him for appearing in the right time, saying that he wouldn't want you to be completely alone with strangers when he and her wife's away for work, and that you would be happier with him.

Technically, you'd be alone with strangers if you're with him too — his diverse gang crossing his mind —, but did your father mean it when he said you'd be happier with him? He didn't tell your father what he does in his life now, and that just proves how much he's trusted by the [L/N]s.

But will you trust him if you learn that he's the boss of a mafia organization? Yes, it's nonsense to doubt you. What matters is that you get to spend time together once more.

You're still his biggest crush and his first love now, after all.

—

You crouched outside the airport, your backpack resting in front of your chest as you faced your sunglasses on the back of your head. You know you looked ridiculous, but the boredom of waiting for Haruno had striked you. You arrived thirty minutes earlier, expecting that he'd be early too, but the cute familiar black-haired Japanese wasn't in sight. You were starting to think that your papa tricked you so that he could have your mama alone, but that didn't sound right for middle-aged people like them. Plus, why did they have to send you back here at your hometown just so you could be safe? Well, they obviously didn't know that you could take care of yourself with the help of your.. psh. None of it made sense, but since it's free vacation you're talking about, you just brushed off the complains.

“Excuse me, Signora, but are you [Y/N] [L/N]?”

A deep voice spoke from beside you, making you flinch in surprise. You could've sworn that the voice you heard was sexy, but what you saw when you looked up at the person beside you was much more sexier. You don't remember Italian men being this beautiful, “Yes! And you are?” You jumped to your feet, gulping as you stood in front of the man, “You aren't Haruno, are you?”

“Haruno..?” The man repeated and shook his head, “Sorry to disappoint, but no. My name is Bruno Bucciarati, a friend of Giorno Giovanna. I take it he's.. Haruno?”

You sounded an ‘oh..’ before nodding. You wanted to ask why he's here instead of your childhood friend, but you just waited for him to explain, not wanting to come off as rude.

“Alright, then you must be confused as to why I'm here instead of him?” He asked like he read your mind, making you nod, “I'll be brief for now, is that okay?” He asked again and you gave a pursed smile in return, noticing how he acknowledges your comfort, “Hm, to start off, Giorno has a busy work. It mostly takes away all his time, including now, so we volunteered to fetch you here and bring you to him.”

You were about to ask where he is now and what work does he do but you did not, thinking it must be private, “Is that so, Bucciarati? Thank you for your time, but you didn't have to do this! I could just wait until he's.. uh, free and not busy!” You smiled, “Besides, I'd be pretty jetlagged anytime now.. you could go with your friend and if it's no biggie, tell Haruno he shouldn't worry about me! I'll be here for a whole month anyways,” You convinced.

Bucciarati noted how you told him to go with his friend, connecting it with how he said ‘they’ volunteered. You're a perceptive one, huh? Abbacchio must be right, Giorno knows you very well, and that fact is enough for him to let you be the closest to him. You had to be someone Giorno's familiar with for him to guard you himself, someone who has to be special to him.

He smiled back at you, “I'm sure Giorno would love your company, Signora. Won't you be staying with him?”

And with that, Bucciarati had you speechless. He had reminded you that you'll be living with Haruno as a safety measure. It sounded cute when it came from your papa because he still saw both of you as kids, but now that you know that he works for a living, the realization that he's matured mentally and.. physically had hit you. The excitement of meeting him again didn't let the realization cross your mind when you agreed to living with him here.

But again, it's your best childhood friend you're talking about, so no complains.

You now sat on a couch of what seemed to be an office after the ride with Bucciarati and his other friends Narancia and Mista. You almost decided to have a happy crush on Bucciarati, especially on how soft he was around you, but you backed it off after meeting the other two who just had the most chaotic energies you aspired to have. You learned from Mista that Narancia struggled with mathematics so you told him that you could help him, while you noticed on the former that he had a pistol with him so you asked him if he could teach you sometimes, both offers being ecstatically agreed to. The plans for your vacation were going well, but you still haven't met Haruno. Sucks that you've been told to stay and wait at the room you're in without the candidates of who's going to be your vacation crush.

As you searched inside your bag, a person entered the room, “I'm sorry for making you wait, I went outside to buy food for us.” Thinking that the person was one of the first three you met, you didn't looked up and continued searching, only saying ‘It's fine!’.

The person, who happened to be Giorno, had three boxes of pizza and two tubs of ice cream in his arms. It was whack food for his reuniting with you, but he knows that you won't be having the energy to eat at a fancy restaurant right now. He'd be sure to take you in one, though.

He placed the foods on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite of where you were, trying to have a proper look of your face. You had your natural [H/C] covering it though, your bowed head making it even impossible for him. He sat properly and faked a cough, at that you had already found what you were looking for.

You lifted your head, but unfortunately, the photo you were holding hid your face. Is he being teased right now?

On the other hand, you were smiling and admiring the photo. It had an image of you and Haruno, both your arms hanging on each other's necks as you cheekily grinned and he had a smile, your head resting on his. It was just one of the mementos you had, a lot of stuffs stored back at your room. Looking back makes you feel warm everytime, but it could be better if you met Haruno right now.

Giorno faked a cough once again, and you peeked, quickly putting back the photo inside after you saw a new.. face. He wore a black and green suit that bared his chest as he had his usual hairstyle, his long blonde hair tied into a fish braid while his hair's brim were rolled into three. Giorno was looking “mhm!” and you had to deny it, aiming not to embarrass yourself.

You placed your backpack beside you and fixed your sitting position, “Ah.. sorry, I thought you were someone I already met. I'm [Y/N] [L/N], do you own this place? Bucciarati and the others told me to wait here for Haruno, I could wait somewhere else if you want!”

It was a given that he'd be unrecognizable because of his hair and brows turning blonde, but Giorno had widened his eyes, shocked for one fact: you called him Haruno.

“Uhm.. hey? I'm sorry again. I'll just go wait outside now, thank you!” You were fast on clinging your bag to your shoulders and hurrying to the door, but not fast enough for the Giorno Giovanna with you. Before you could open the door, Giorno went beside you and held your wrist with a firm grip.

Giorno gulped the slump in his throat, “It's me, [Y/N],” He started, confusing you, “Haruno.. Haruno Shiobana.”

You dropped your backpack upon hearing this, a surprised face on you, “W-what? But.. he isn't.. are you.. no, there's no reason for you to do that. Is it.. really you? Like.. my Haruno Shiobana? My Giorno? My GioGio?” You held his shoulders and shook his taller form, your voice becoming more and more loud as you asked his names.

Giorno let out a tranced chuckle as he looked at your eyes, seeing your eyes express your excitement. Oh, how much he missed those, “Yes, [Y/N]. It's me, your Haruno.”

That was the confirmation you needed to finally burst out, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you jumped, “Can I.. can I hug you?” You politely asked, knowing how sensitive he can be to physical affection, and he slowly nodded.

You stomped your feet as a wide smile formed on your face, your eyes starting to well up tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck after you admired his beauty, locking him in a lodged hug, “I-I can't believe how much you've outgrown me! And blonde hair?! Are you kidding me?! It looks perfect on you! You were the cutest back then but now— I don't even know how to begin! Puberty hit you like an airplane crash when I'm here looking like a potato sack! You're really unfair, Haruno!”

Giorno had one of his rarest smiles on his face because of your adorable outburst, his arms wrapping around your waist to hug you back. You described yourself so wrong when your form and your charming personality wouldn't even have that as an option of definition. He lovingly rubbed your back, trying to soothe you as he felt warm tears on his shoulder, “Shh.. I wouldn't even dare challenge your own alluring beauty, cara.”

Unbeknownst to Giorno who was indulged in your hug though, a part of him was up and willing to challenge you.

His Stand, Gold Experience Requiem or GER, manifested behind him and on the side where you placed your head. Feeling a presence of someone, you looked up with quivering lips, gasping as your eyes laid on a gold humanoid floating behind Giorno. You stepped back and pulled the man with you, pointing to the humanoid, “H-Haruno! Look out!”

Giorno changed your position and pushed you behind him out of fighting instinct, giving him a decent look on his sentient Stand, “GER? [Y/N].. you can see it?” He turned to look at you and you nodded, “You're a Stand User too.. I didn't know about that.”

Giorno led you to the couch with GER behind him and sat beside you, explaining to you what a Stand is. You were glad to know that you weren't the only one with an ability who had a form that no one else around your home sees, so when he asked you to show your Stand, you confidently called for its name. It manifested behind you, its head resting on your shoulder. Giorno, as the sweetheart that he is to you, complimented it before asking its ability. As you were explaining your Stand's ability, both of your and Giorno's Stands now faced and admired each other's forms behind the couch.

“Stand Users attract each other, huh? That's neat.”

Abbacchio, who had his red and green headphones and his eyes closed, stood by the now opened door with crossed arms. Your Stands weren't bothered by the disturbance and just kept staring at each other while you and Giorno had your attention on the man.

“I-I'm sorry, would you like to join us? You must be Haruno's friend too, it would be great if we all got along, wouldn't it? He actually bought too much pizza so..” You informed after hesitating. You walked up to the door, Giorno following you while he had his eyes glued on Abbacchio, ready to warn him not to be rude to you, “I'm [Y/N] [L/N], and you must be?”

Abbacchio opened an eye and saw his boss' firm look. He clicked his tongue and pushed himself from leaning to face you, “Leone Abbacchio.”

Giorno softened when you turned to face him with a cheerful smile, “Haruno, can we call the others? Pizza and ice cream is better when shared, yeah?”

Abbacchio observed Giorno carefully, and he never thought he'd see him go all soft and protective just for a woman. The way he looked at you was different, like he adored everything about you and every word you say. Yet, this was the same Giorno who stepped out of his league to achieve his impossibly deadly dream. Giorno Giovanna never fails to surprise him, it seems.

“Yes, of course, as long as you're comfortable. I'll call them, you should go sit while you wait,” Giorno stepped aside, leting you walk back to the couch and join the staring contest between the Stands. He faced Abbacchio, “You should go sit with her, Abbacchio. How about you try to see if she's as special as I think she is?”

Abbacchio smirked on Giorno's challenge. He won't be able to use his old trick without a tea set available, but that isn't to say he doesn't have any more up his dress sleeves, “It's my pleasure, Don Giorno.”

Oblivious to Giorno's hands behind him, you caught his signal that both of you invented when you were children. It was made just for fun, usually used when you two hung out at your home and had nothing to do except to troll your parents and the helpers. It was fun seeing them get utterly confused with your and Giorno's antics, maybe it won't be so bad to have a little trip to nostalgia.

And needless to say, it was a fun trip, not just for you and Giorno, but for the whole gang, after seeing Abbacchio get his peach handed back to him from you. You had doubts if you should do that one prank you devised long ago against a man who looked like he knew of your deepest secrets, but it was successful nonetheless. The others got back to the office while you were doing it, and like they were used to the tense atmosphere caused by harmless waggery, they waited for the big reveal of who'll be the embarrassed and the victor. In this case, Abbacchio lost, hissing as he almost flipped the table in dismay, and you won, leaning on the arm of the couch as you made two peace signs and crossed your arms, a smug grin and black sunglasses on your face — which your Stand mimicked — while Narancia and Mista screamed behind you, the Sex Pistols jumping up and down your body as Aerosmith flew around. Bucciarati sat beside Abbacchio, calming him down, and Giorno was standing at the other end of your couch, smiling in amusement at them and in awe with you.

It has only been hours since you've met the gang, but the bonding was one of those spent with close friends. You felt at home with them, especially when Giorno's around, and they also did with you. Because of their experience with Trish, they had been inclined to thinking that guarding you isn't something of professional duty, although Giorno had thought of that from the start.

You were now laying and dozing off on the couch, the jetlag and drained energy getting to you. Giorno sat on the floor beside you, watching you as you slept peacefully.

Mista crouched beside Giorno as the others cleaned up, “Yo, boss. Shouldn't we put her to bed? She might wake up feeling uncomfortable.”

“She told me she..” Giorno had his face warm up, which didn't go unnoticed by Mista, “She wants to be close to me,” He said with the most unflustered voice he can do.

Mista surpressed a laugh, “Then go for it! Put her to bed and sleep with her! Aren't you childhood friends? The closest? Doesn't that mean you've slept with her before like when you're playing or something?”

Giorno sighed, still looking at you, “Well yeah, but this is different. We're not kids anymore.”

“Don't misunderstand, Giorno. You're just being by her side like she requested you to, she trusts you enough not to do anything that would ruin that trust. Besides, we all saw how you looked at her! It was obvious that you missed— Okay boss, I know you got it.” Mista, who had been carried away with giving advice, received a warning glance from Giorno, so he stopped himself and patted his boss' back before leaving.

Giorno patiently waited for everyone to leave — each of them giving him a thumbs up —, all the while sitted by your side as he thought of what Abbacchio said to him when he came back after the others had left.

“Hey, Giorno. She isn't a nuisance, at least. It's not everyday you get to spend a break with someone like her. Use your smart ass and don't ruin it.”

He was right, but what does he mean to not ruin it? You're resting, what else does he have to do? He could continue reading through his paperworks while he waited for you to wake up, that way he won't have to worry about those later and get to have more time for you.

It was settled. Giorno stood up and was going to walk to his table, only to be stopped by a hand. He looked back, and saw your hand unyieldingly holding his. Surprised, he checked your face, but you were still fast asleep and were not faking it. He hitched a breath, he's getting flustered over holding hands with you even if you closely held each other earlier. Did he intertwined his hand with you, or was it you who did it? To answer it, he tried to break free from your hold, but you tightened your grip.

“Gio..” You called for him, half-awake. You fluttered your half-lidded eyes as you tried to sit up, Giorno quickly helping you and sitting a little far from you after you've settled with folding your knees, his hand still in yours that rested on your lap. You covered your mouth with the other and yawned, “Ah, wooh! Remember when you.. asked me that one thing, Haruno?” You casually told him after stretching.

“I-it depends, [Y/N]. What thing is it?” Giorno gulped, are you not aware of your hands?

“It was your birthday.. it was the time we confessed our crushes to each other, to be precise,” You looked up and giggled on the memory, “I gave you a gift then you gave me a carnation flower. After that, you told me—”

“Is it alright if I ask you to be my someone like your mama is to your papa?” Giorno cut you off and squeezed your hand, recalling the exact words he told you that day. He began to like holding your hand, it would be a shame to let this miss.

You turned your eyes to him, “Yeah, that. I was wondering if you have someone right now who.. you know, who you asked that?” You gazed at him with pure curiosity, wanting to know more of the people he's most fond with. Meeting his squad had been a blast, and it would be great if you met his special one.

“Did asking you counted?”

“Wha?”

“Is it..?”

Awkward. Silence. You didn't expect him to answer like that, to answer with so much swiftness and poise like he already knew your question and had prepared what to say. Giorno surely grew out of his shell, and that thought made you smile unknowingly, which flushed him even more.

“Can I sit closer to you, [Y/N]?” Giorno tugged your hand after he asked, and you responded with facing to your side so he could move closer to you. You looked down on your clasped hands that broke hold with his, not knowing what to say when he literally confessed for the second time.

“Don't you feel cold with your open chest?”

“Can we hug again?”

Another. Awkward. Silence. You were trying to start up a new topic because it had been too quiet, but you were out of place. How do you even tell him that you still like him? Of course it isn't like the time when you were kids, shrugging off uneasy moments with outgoing replies and with the littlest of distractions. It had been years since you first saw each other, and the bond with the gang earlier helped you both catch up a bit, but it isn't going too well without them. Is it really alright to talk about such feelings now?

You glanced at the nervous Giorno and nodded, a small smile finding its way to his lips. He put an arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you in. You shifted your body and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head once again resting on his shoulder. With that, he proceeded to lock you in both of his arms as he placed his head on yours and closed his eyes, GER manifesting on your other side as it mimicked its user's hold on you.

Feeling your affectionate form nestle close to him is what he'd describe as his cloud nine, all the built-in stress being released as the snippets of emptiness that unfortunate circumstances brought were filled. How come you managed to be the same angel that he knew a decade ago? As someone incredibly whipped for you, he already knows the reason, but maybe he'd ask you of that sooner or later just to see you in a blushing state.

In the present, he'll gratify himself of this moment, the voice of Abbacchio saying that he should ‘use his smart ass and not ruin this’ echoing through his mind.

He kissed your crown as you snuggled closer to him, giving him the composure he needed to speak of his feelings for you, “Don't worry. You have the whole month to think of your answer to my question. For now, listen to my voice as I tell you how much you mean to me, even if I get separated from you for a devastating number of years.”

“Sei la luce della mia vita, amore mio.”

[End!]

#giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #bucci gang x reader #haruno shiobana #i know i shouldve included our boi fugo im sorry TwT #leone abbacchio #narancia ghirga #guido mista #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #jojo reader insert #let's assume pol got to reunite w/ joot and oldseph....#mirawrites

292 notes · View notes

emsylcatac · 4 years

Text

Compatible

Summary:

When Ladybug brings some of the old magazines she used to read as a teenager to a sleepover with Chat Noir, they end up doing an 'Adrien Agreste compatibility test', something that she has done more than once as a teenager.

There's no way her partner could beat her at it and get a higher score than her. No way.

Read it on AO3

Ladynoir identity reveal commission for @multibug ♥ | Donation drive @mlbforblm

Thank you so much again for beta-reading this, @rosekasa ♥

The proceeds of this commission go to Color of Change, a racial justice organisation centered on the Black Lives Matter movement!

You can learn more about MLB for BLM & the different contributors on the blog, and you can view info for commissioning me for art or fics here!

You’re of course very welcome to commission any of our talented contributors and donate if you can! Otherwise you can help us to spread the word by reblogging the different posts from the blog! Thanks for your help ♥🤜🤛

* * * * *

Ladybug looked around the room at the mess she and Chat Noir had left from the evening before. Scattered UNO cards on the table, empty glasses and half empty bottles of wine and cider, a plate with only three or four cookies left, and abandoned game controllers on ottomans in front of the small TV.

They always left a mess when they had a sleepover together; always because they went to bed way too late and were too tired to clean it all.

She loved that.

She turned her head to look at her partner half-sitting beside her on the sofa bed. The sheets were pulled up his waist, and he was wearing a dark grey t-shirt v-neck as a pajama that suited him particularly well. She herself was wearing a red with tiny black polka-dots tank top, and a pair of small black pajama shorts.

Chat Noir was smiling at whatever he was reading on his phone. Ladybug propped her head on his shoulder, but kept her gaze away from the device.

“What are you looking at?”

He kept silent a few seconds, still grinning, before answering. “I told my best friend about what my supervisor said to me yesterday. He’s telling me he’s gonna buy an electric racket for mosquitoes and slap him with it.”

Ladybug chuckled. “I like your friend.”

Chat Noir was doing an internship somewhere in the city, and while it seemed like he enjoyed it, his supervisor sounded everything but kind to him. Something Ladybug couldn’t understand, knowing how nice her partner was.

“I thought you would,” he replied, turning his phone off and putting it on the nightstand.

After defeating Hawkmoth four years ago, Ladybug and Chat Noir had both taken a break to focus on their studies. He had been somewhere abroad from what she gathered; she had studied in another city. Now they were both back in Paris and had been for a year; a new threat needing the heroes had arisen.

It had been good to see her partner and best friend again after all this time, a deliverance of sorts. Being older opened up to a lot more freedom than they had as young teenagers: they were more lenient regarding their identities, for one. Ladybug even offered more than once to reveal each other, but Chat Noir told her he was not quite ready yet. It had surprised her a lot, but if he needed time, she would let him take it.

Still, it hadn’t kept them from getting even closer than they used to be.

Ladybug wished they could be even closer. She suspected that Chat Noir probably did, too, yet neither of them pushed for it. The very comfortable friendship they had now established was both a blessing and a curse in that regard.

While it was easier for her to stay at her parent’s house for now, Chat Noir had had a new personal studio. It wasn’t big; just the kind of place you’d expect from any average student having to rent a far too expensive place for what it was, courtesy of living in Paris—but it was enough. It was great to plot against their enemy… or for sleepovers, a habit they had taken soon after he got it.

Chat Noir looked at the pile of old magazines she had brought—they were the ones she read as a teenager, the ones she gossiped about with Alya during their sleepovers. She had thought it could be fun to try that with him, even if they were definitely not up to date.

“We forgot to read those!” he exclaimed, getting up.

She watched as he closed his eyes to pick one at random, and brought it back to the bed.

“Which one did you get?”

“Let’s see… oooh, ‘Clara Rossignole is looking for a Ladybug and a Chat Noir for her next music video’”, he read aloud. “Wow. How old is that stuff?”

“Er, I think I must have been fifteen or something so… Seven years old?”

“Amazing! Exactly what I need to keep up with the latest juicy gossip!” He grinned.

Ladybug laughed and leaned on his shoulder to have a better look at the magazine. She remembered that one with this cover very well, it was the one where there was a personality test about—

“‘How compatible are you with teen model Adrien Agreste’, page 21.” Chat Noir fake-gasped. “Spiiicy! Let’s do it!”

As he opened the magazine, Ladybug hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious to see how easy it was to find the page right away. Despite the years that had passed, the page was still bearing the marks of having been opened and opened again and stared at for far too long, more than any other.

If he noticed, Chat Noir chose not to comment.

He grabbed a four-coloured pen on his nightstand. “Wow, my Lady, that’s a lot of ink on there! We can barely see the little symbols in front of the answers.”

Well. She had had to take the test more than once to get a better score. She’d been aiming for a hundred percent compatibility, a hundred-and-one if she was lucky, or over-compatible—as she should have been back then according to herself.

Not that she would admit that to him.

“I had done it with friends. That’s why it’s so… inky.”

Chat Noir hummed, suspicious, but didn’t push further.

“And it doesn’t work with symbols, it’s a points system. So we can’t cheat,” she added.

She would know. She had tried.

He snorted. “You remember this surprisingly well, Buguinette.”

She didn’t comment on that very accurate observation. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“Why do you want to do that test anyway?”

“Because it’s fun! And to see if I can get a better score than you,” he said.

She scoffed. “As if you would win! I’m unbeatable at this.”

That made him snicker. “Unlike with UNO?”

She glared at him at that and pulled her head away from his shoulder. He brought her back with an arm around her, and kissed her temple apologetically.

She begrudgingly accepted the kiss. Very begrudgingly. (She couldn’t help but smile at the contact of his lips).

(She also couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him).

“So,” Chat Noir went on, “what do we have for the first question… Oooh, ‘which colour is your favourite? Green, Blue, Pink or Red?’,” he raised a brow. “That’s not a lot of choices in my opinion.”

“Blue,” Ladybug automatically answered.

Chat Noir snorted. “No, yours is pink Bugacheat, I know that well enough,” and he circled the answer in red. “However, mine is blue.”

“Maybe I changed favourite colour.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied flatly. She pouted. “Next question. ‘What is your favourite season?’”

Ladybug pondered. She liked all seasons, after all; they each had their charm.

“Can’t we pick all of them?”

“Well, apparently you can’t because, according to this very accurate magazine, Adrien Agreste has only one favourite season.”

“Write ‘autumn’, then,” she decided.

He circled it in red for her, and circled spring in green for him.

“Okay, ‘how many times do you blink in the span of a minute? Fifteen, eighteen, twenty or twenty-two”, he frowned. “Where did they even get these information?”

“They have very good sources.”

“Sure,” he snorted. “Does Adrien Agreste himself even know the answer to that?”

“Well, of course, it’s in the magazine,” she laughed.

She knew it couldn’t really be trusted, but she liked to take these facts as straight science when she was younger.

“God, these tests are so bad,” Chat Noir shook his head. “How is that suppose to tell you if you’re compatible with him or not?”

“Hey! Don’t criticise my magazine or you’ll offend mini-me!”

“Well, Babybug, I think the questions from your magazine are dumb. And I’m answering… I don’t know... eighteen maybe?”

“Put twenty-two for me,” she said proudly.

She remembered the answer corresponding to Adrien’s to that question, but he didn’t need to know that.

They went on like that through the rest of the test, from morning routine to favourite scent—“Ew, why are one of the answers camembert?”— and gut reaction when faced with an akuma—“you would jump off of a building, Kitty”. Ladybug tried to answer what ‘Adrien’ would do instead of herself, and Chat Noir corrected her each time—“I choose passion fruits!” - “there’s a reason you always take strawberry ice-creams, my Lady. You can’t fool me!” — until they arrived at the end of the test.

“Aaaaand I’ve got a score of…” Chat Noir paused, looking and calculating the results, “eighty-six percent! While you, on the other hand, despite trying to cheat on at least five questions—”

“Hey!”

“—have a score of… Aw, only forty-one!”

“What?!” Ladybug all but screamed.

“Ah, yes, it looks like I beat you Buguinette!” The little shit sounded so proud with himself.

“There’s no way your score is higher than mine,” she said, snatching the magazine from his hands and scrupulously recounting the points herself.

There was no way, indeed.

And yet.

Chat Noir knew how to count, alright. Ladybug was silently fuming.

No, it didn’t matter anymore whether she was compatible with her old crush or not. And yes, the magazine was probably incorrect anyway.

And sure, Adrien was twenty-two now, not fifteen, so his answers would probably not be the same anymore, but still.

She had to defend young-Marinette’s honour.

And in honour of young-Marinette’s past struggles and unconditional love, there was no way Chat Noir of all people could be more compatible with Adrien than herself.

Chat Noir’s laughters brought her out of her shocked horror.

“Aw, don’t pull that face, Bugachups, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! Maybe you’ll beat me to the next! Say, they don’t have a compatibility test with Chat Noir by any chan—”

“You cheated.” She stated it calmly but coldly. She had to be calm about it. “You must have.”

Chat Noir guffawed. “I’m not you! Also why so upset? Afraid I ruined your chances with…” he took the magazine back from her hands to read the caption under the test’s title, “...Paris’ favourite teenage boy?” He frowned. “Hey, shouldn’t that have been me at the tim—”

“No, I’m not afraid of anything like that,” she grumbled. “It’s just that… I used to know everything there was to know about Adrien Agreste back in the day.”

He blinked. “Everything?!”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Also, I don’t need to do a Chat Noir compatibility test to know that I’d get a hundred percent at it.”

He snickered. “I sure do hope that you’d get a higher score with me than that poor forty-one percent.”

She hit him with her pillow. For making fun of her, and for not having taken the bait.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I’d have a better score and I’d get the highest, thank you very much.”

He gently pinched and squished her cheeks while nuzzling his nose against hers teasingly. “Aaaww, of course we would be the most compatible Buguichou, we’re made for each other!”

Better.

Still, they had become so comfortable with each other now that it could mean everything and nothing.

“Chat Noooiiiiir,” she whined in lieu of pushing further, “stop annoying me!”

He released her and laughed. “You love it when I annoy you!”

Yes.

“No.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What was it about you knowing everything there was to know about teen model, Paris' darling extraordinaire Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned. “Please can we not?”

“No. I want to know more about the boy I’m eighty-six percent compatible with, Bugaboo! And who better to teach me all I need to know other than the finest expert you aaaaar—”

She snatched the magazine back from his hands and swatted him with it.

“You’re” —swat— “not” —swat— “more compatible than me” —hit— “with Adrien” she had him pinned on the bed and he was giggling, trying and failing to push her away, “because I had the biggest crush” —swat— “on him and I was” —swat— “in love with him, do you understand?”

She stopped hitting him to throw him her deadliest look.

“Wait, what?” he said, still grinning from the fight. “You were in love with him like… in love love?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I was in love love with him.”

He snorted. And then, slowly, his body shook more and more, the laughters coming from him getting louder and louder.

“You—,” he choked, raising a finger in her direction, “you were in love with Adrien Agreste when we were fifteen.”

She sighed. “Yes, I was in love with Adrien Agreste. Go on, laugh all you want, ‘ha-ha-ha, Ladybug was in love with Hawkmoth’s son, ha-ha,’ so funny.”

“Oh my god, yes, Ladybug in love with our enemy’s son,” he kept laughing. “Waaait, wait wait, hold on, that’s excellent but… when you told me you were in love with someone else, back then…”

Her stomach fluttered at the memory that yes, Chat Noir used to be in love with her.

“...Does that mean that he was the boy you were referring to?” he looked at her expectantly.

She didn’t reply.

“He was?!" he exclaimed. “Ladybug, that’s… that’s… that’s hilarious!” and he was back laughing, even louder than before.

She glared at him, before grabbing her pillow once again and hitting him with it.

“No, no—I’ll stop, I’ll stop! But you don’t understand, this is so funny!”

“I really don’t see why.” And with that she lay down on the bed and turned around, her back to him. “Adrien is a very sweet person, I had great taste.”

Today, however, by loving Chat Noir? Maybe not so much, she decided.

A warm hand settled on her arm.

(She still had great tastes).

“Say, my Lady… if you were to meet that Adrien boy today and he were to ask you on a date… would you say yes?” She could still hear the remainder of his amusement in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down, now.

She turned around to face him. He was lying on the side, propped on one elbow with his head resting on his hand. She pondered his question a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Adrien in a while, after all.

And… there was someone else now. She wasn’t fifteen anymore.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He was rubbing small circles on her arm.

“Oh?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “What would fifteen-year-old-Bugbooboo think about that?”

She snorted. “She wouldn’t believe I’d ever say that. She’d think I lost my mind.”

He chuckled with her.

She frowned. “But… well, we all change when we grow up and… Adrien is probably still a great person. And I mean, with what he had to go through, I admire him a lot. But also, there’s some—… there’s… there’s...”

“There’s what?”

You.

“Chat Nooiiir,” she tugged at the kwagatama around his neck instead, and raised her eyes to his. She bit her lip. “You know.”

She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Even after all these years, confessing was still something she found herself struggling with. But she kept his gaze as he silently searched hers; she wouldn’t back away or hide from it.

She kept it as he slowly took the hand that was fiddling with his necklace and lifted it to his lips. Kept it as he gently kissed the tips of her fingers. As she felt a shiver and the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure he could see it, too.

And she still kept his gaze as he lowered their hands on the mattress, and caressed hers with his thumb.

He knew.

And he reciprocated. She put a hand on his cheek, and slowly brought her face closer to his. She was about to close her eyes and the gap between them when a finger on her lips interrupted her.

Chat Noir closed his eyes, letting a small smile tug at his lips. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes again and looked right into hers.

“What if…” he said nervously, almost as a murmur, a deep contrast to his amusement from earlier. “What if I told you that… that you could have both? In one person.”

Her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly and grabbed his face. Did he mean that—

“Chaton?!” she said surprised —questioning. Her eyes frantically searched his.

He took one of her hands and brought it to his mask. And slowly nodded.

Carefully, shaking, she removed the home-sewed mask from his face.

His eyes were closed, but it was the unmistakable face of Adrien that met her. And older Adrien, an Adrien who was still the same but also so different.

An Adrien who was Chat Noir, and had always been—an Adrien that she knew more than she could have possibly thought.

As he opened his eyes to look at her, she took both his hands and kissed them. She noticed that she was crying when she saw tears dropping on his ring. She didn’t care.

It suddenly hit her that this boy had had to fight against his own father—and that it was certainly why he hadn’t been ready to show himself before. What he just did now, finally revealing himself to her—this was huge.

But looking at his gaze, soft from her actions, and feeling his hand wiping her tears away, she decided that it was probably not something he wanted to discuss now. And she didn’t want to ruin their moment, their reveal, with pity and talks about his father: the very thing he had probably tried to avoid when he was still insecure about who he was under the mask.

She giggled through her tears. “You’re beautiful,” is what first made its way out of her mouth.

That made him laugh and oh god, she was making him cry too now.

“Take off my mask. Please,” she whispered, kissing his fingers once more.

He sat up next to her, are gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Then, he did as she told—and gasped.

“You—you’re Marinette!”

She giggled again. “And you’re Adrien!”

“I was thinking about you the other day. I was wondering how you were doing and…” he trailed off.

“And now you know!”

“And now I know!” he grinned. “You’re wonderful… I missed you so much but… it also sounds weird to say that now, doesn’t it?”

“Well… we could still catch up, around a coffee and uh… is this date with both Chat Noir and Adrien still on the table?” she asked.

Was she being a bit too straight forward? Probably. But she had troubles to control her mouth right now.

“When will it not?” he breathed.

She squealed and wiggled on her spot, grabbing his face. But before she could come closer to him, she faltered and stopped, remembering his finger on her lips a few minutes before.

“Uh, can I kiss you this time?”

He chuckled, a soft blush gracing his cheeks—and kissed her in answer.

She immediately closed her eyes at the contact of his lips and kissed him back—slowly, deeply, tasting him as much as she could. He tilted his head to give her a better access, and she climbed on his laps to be more comfortable—and closer to him.

Marinette lost count of how many times they came back for each other, of how many times their lips met, or their tongues. She felt so happy and so good—so in love.

When they separated and looked at each other, shy and giddy smiles on their faces, she couldn’t help but drop another tender kiss on his cheek, and caressed it afterwards.

“Now I know what you found so funny earlier,” she told him.

“It’s hilarious, right? We were so dumb!”

“We still are,” she added.

“We definitely still are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Marinette was in love with me in collège, wow.”

“Is in love with you,” she corrected, still caressing his cheeks. “Present tense.”

She would always remember the look on his face when she said it. He was in love with her too, there was no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she was hit with a realisation and looked at him in horror. “Wait a minute. That means… That I have only forty-one percent compatibility with Chat Noir?!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “My Laaaady, you can’t seriously believe these tests, right?”

“Well, no, but we still should have way more compatibility than forty-one percent. Who even has that with their super-hero partner?”

“Marinette,” he said, amused, “my Bugabisous…I don’t even have a hundred percent with myself. It would be hard to live in my own head.”

She blinked. “You’re right. That test is dumb. But how do we know if we’re the most compatible then?”

Adrien chuckled, and put his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. “Well, you’re the Guardian, I think you can make up the rules for that.”

She put her arms around his neck. “That’s true. Then I decide that we’re a hundred percent compatible.”

“A hundred percent, uh?”

Their foreheads were touching now.

“A hundred-and-one,” she whispered against his lips, and she kissed him.

403 notes · View notes

mdawritings · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 5

I.V

Masterlist

Content warning: smut, daddy kink... you've been warned

"You almost ready, Einstein?" Katie calls from the other side of the door. You hurriedly slather on another layer of concealer on the fading bruise on your neck. It’s still pretty god awful after your meeting with Hotch yesterday. The deep purple splotch is the only one visible because it’s right smack under your jawline. It’s been hell trying to hide it from Katie. If she saw it, she would inevitably get curious and since you spend almost every moment together, you couldn’t simply lie and tell her that you had hooked up with someone randomly yesterday.

"We’re going to be late! You’re just asking for the sexy professor to yell at you!" She teases and knocks again on your door. You roll your eyes at the nickname for Hotch and scramble to pick out some clothes.

"I’m coming, just one more minute!" You glance over yourself in the mirror. You smooth out your skirt. It’s the only other skirt you own and it’s definitely not daytime appropriate. It’s a matte black fake leather skirt. Turns out, you did indeed rip the seams in your skirt the other day when you were busy on your knees. You hurriedly pull on some sheer black tights, tuck your shirt into the skirt and slip on your boots.

"Y/n, I swear to god-" Just as Katie is about to yell at you again you swing the door open, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"No more yelling. I’m ready," You shake your head at her and move around her in the door frame.

"You look… nicer than usual," Katie teases and hands you a to-go cup of coffee. "Dressing up for someone special?

Your heart picks up in pace, thinking about how Hotch will react to your attempt to dress up for him. It worries you, how desperate you are to impress him. It’s not out of character for you to seek validation from respected figures, but you’ve never been one to seek validation through looks or appearance. That’s not to say you’re not good-looking, because you know you are. But you don’t pride yourself on being the hottest, most attention-grabbing woman in a room.

Just over two weeks ago, you were hoping for attention from Professor Hotchner, but not this kind of attention. You want him to shower you with compliments in relation to your hard work, your intellect, your drive. You want to know you’re the star student. It’s obvious, you’re the smartest student in the class. He’s made that clear to you. But he holds you to such a high standard. It’s as if your work will never be good enough for him. That would normally anger you, but this new, more personal kind of attention has distracted you from the intense standards he has for you. You love that he can’t get enough of you. He can’t keep his hands off of you.

Sleeping with your professor was never something you necessarily dreamed about or fantasized. You had exes try and role play with you but it never really turned you on. This new fling with Hotch has made you truly understand the appeal.

The idea that he can’t resist you. He’s so into you he has to have you. The stolen glances in class. He’s risking everything. His career, his job, his standing as a professor, all just to sleep with you. Just to have you. That’s how irresistible you are to him. And damn, that makes you feel good about yourself. But it feels as if you’ve sacrificed your need for respect for unbridled, animalistic passion.

"Huh?" You glance over at Katie, realizing you’ve ignored her question, losing yourself in your thoughts of Hotch, "No. No one special."

"Not even Charlie?" She smirks over at you, smiling behind her coffee cup like a giddy school girl.

You feel your face growing hot, "Charlie? No, I’m… I’m over that."

"Over that?" Katie stops in her tracks and latches a hand onto your arm, "When were you ever," She pauses, "On that?"

You laugh at her word choice and shake your head, "He’s cute! And really sweet to me and smart and we have really good conversations and—"

"So then why are you ‘over that’! He’s always finding ways to touch you casually," Katie throws an arm around your shoulders, imitating Charlie. You roll your eyes. If only she knew about your extracurricular activities with a certain ‘sexy professor.’

"I don’t know." You shake your head, "He’s just so… So unfocused. Don’t get me wrong, he’s smart, he really is. But I need someone driven like me. I need someone who understands my mind." Katie rolls her eyes and lets out a small scoff at you.

"I’m not saying you have to marry the dude, but you have an opportunity for a very," She wags her eyebrows as you open the door to the lecture hall, "Very fun time in bed with him."

You laugh boisterously at Katie as you step into the classroom. The class is loud, every student talking and socializing with those around you. Your eyes land on Hotch. He’s leaning against the whiteboard at the front. You swear you can see his eyes widen as they run up and down your figure. You give a smirk and turn your attention back to Katie.

"If you like him so much, you can sleep with him," You put your stuff down by a seat at the front. Katie takes the seat next to you like always.

Something about knowing you’ve caught Hotch’s attention is empowering you. You’re feeling bold. You keep your focus on Katie as she rambles on about your social activities. "This isn’t about me. This is about you, Einstein. And you? You need to get laid. I’m sure that Charlie would be more than willing to be that man for you."

"Katie!" You scold her and shove her arm playfully. You glance around to make sure that Charlie hasn’t heard any part of your conversation. He glances up from his friend to give you a small wink and a wave. As you take your seat, you bring your eyes back to Hotch. His brows have furrowed, his arms crossed against his chest. You give him another smirk and lean back in your chair, parting your legs just enough that it’s clear your actions aren’t innocent.

He clears his throat, "Alright everyone, quiet down. Time to get started." His eyes flick back to you. He gives you a glare that says ‘behave’ but you simply lean back a little more in your chair, parting your legs just enough to draw his attention. You see his line of sight travel down and you swear you hear him stumble over a word or two as he starts today's lecture.

——————————

Hotch has never been much of a fan of teasing. He likes to be in control. And looking at the way you’ve parted your legs, the black leather tightly clinging to your skin, and the devious sparkle in your eyes, he knows exactly what you’re attempting to do, and he’s not amused.

A mix of frustration, irritation, and desire bubbles inside of him with every passing minute he looks at you. He tears his eyes away from your velvety figure, pushing his attention onto the 50 other students in the class. He tries his best to hide the growing heat in his body but he practically lets out a groan when he looks back over to see the way that you’re pressing the end of your pen to your plump lower lip.

Hotch stumbles over his words for a second, seeing that damnable smirk of yours quickly growing as he does. There’s only one word he can think best describes you right now: wicked. Your whole demeanor, your outfit, it all reminds him just how much he hates being teased. He wants to grab you by the front of your shirt and take you over his knee, show you just how much he won’t tolerate such wicked behavior. He hates that he’s let you affect him, have some sense of power over him.

Just as he’s regaining his composure, you lean a little forward, flashing your cleavage in his direction. "Miss Y/L/N," He has to avert his eyes from you, not sure how he could possibly hold himself together while you look like that, "You mind giving a small summary of the facts of the case I’ve just discussed and its importance in the context of the history of criminal law and the state of the country at the time of the court’s decision."

"Oh not at all," You pause, "Sir." You give a small nod. He’s hoping to trip you up. Hopefully, you’ve been so distracted by your cunning little charade that you haven’t paid attention to his lecture. He’s hoping to regain some sense of power back. If he can remind you just how quickly he can embarrass you, he’ll feel less powerless.

To his surprise, however, you begin reciting an eloquent and complete response to his questioning. He mentally curses you. He’s not sure why he expected anything less from you. His mistake is underestimating just how powerful your mind is. You’re utterly intolerable. A wicked mind and a wicked little body. How is he supposed to remain composed?

"Was that enough? To your satisfaction, Sir? Or shall I go on longer?" That knowing little smirk hasn’t left your face and Hotch shakes his head.

"Good enough, Miss Y/L/N," It feels like the glow of his cheeks and the lustful look in his eyes will give him away to the rest of the lecture hall. He’s almost positive that every student can sense exactly what’s going on and that simply cannot stand. "Try to wipe that blank look off your face and at least pretend to be engaged in the lecture." He scoffs before forcing his attention back to the prepared lecture.

You don’t pull any more stunts the rest of class but just your appearance is enough to drive him wild. His head feels as if it's in a haze. Hotch isn’t even really quite sure how he manages to get through the lecture. He decides to dismiss everyone a few minutes early but he can’t let you get away with such utterly unacceptable behavior.

"Miss Y/L/N," Hotch calls from the front of the room as the entire class begins to pack up and file out. He gives a small gesture of his fingers to tell you to come to the front before pointing down at the ground.

Katie gives you a confused look and Hotch sees you mumble something to her as she glances between the two of you, hesitating a little before finally leaving

————————

You’re not sure whether or not to be terrified or proud. It’s clear your actions have gotten your professor’s attention. It’s also clear that he’s frustrated and/or upset. You gather up your books and throw your bag over your shoulder, making your way over to Hotch’s desk.

His eyes dart around the classroom as the last few students file their way out the door. In a blink, his hand grabs at the front of your shirt, yanking you close to him, "What the hell was all of that?"

You smirk. As soon as he grabs your shirt, you know he’s not actually angry with you. "Have I done something wrong, professor?" You glance up at him. Your tone is innocent but your body language tells a different story. You press your pillowy breasts into his chest and place your hands on his shoulders, attempting to brace yourself.

"I can’t wait a full week to see you," He mutters under his breath. You feel his hands ghosting over your body. He wants to touch you. His hands are itching to feel your skin, to take your warm skin in his hands. He wants to feel your lips moving with his. You want his touch. The feeling of his rough hands running over your body. "Come with me to my office now," You hear an almost pleading tone in his voice.

You smirk, his lips inching closer to yours every second, "I have plans. Sorry."

A low groan erupts from his throat but he tears himself away from your tempting, enchanting form. You feel him slide something small into the palm of your hand and you glance down at it, his messy scrawl is a series of numbers.

He walks around to grab his briefcase, packing up the classroom, "It’s my number."

You’re a bit confused, assuming that your interactions wouldn’t be more than just the weekly meetings and every day in class. He’s not some schoolboy crush that you’re going to call on a Friday night, sitting on your bed, your feet in the air, giggling and laughing to yourself over the phone with him, arguing about who will hang up first. He’s a man. A much older one at that. He’s over 10 years older than you. This isn’t a silly little flirtation. It’s rough, it’s messy. It’s purely physical and animalistic.

When Hotch looks up at you, he can sense the confusion in your expression at the gesture, "I’m not saying we’re going to talk on the phone each night but you know… just in case I have to get in contact with you."

You almost laugh at the diplomatic way he’s going about this, "Right. Well, I’ll put the number in my phone in case of an emergency." Now your word choice brings you to the brink of laughter.

In case of an emergency? What kind of emergency? An emergency booty call?

You turn away from him with a small nod and walk towards the door but he calls out stopping you, "Miss Y/LN,"

You turn back and Hotch stands at the desk, running his eyes languidly down your figure, taking it all in one last time, "Pull a stunt like that again and you’ll be sorry." He quirks a brow in disapproval.

"It won’t happen again, sir," You grin.

"And wipe that smirk off your face," He rolls his eyes. You press your lips tightly together, struggling to hide your pride as you leave the classroom.

You meet Katie outside the lecture hall. She stands up straight, pulling away from the wall she was leaning against. Just as you open your mouth to explain to her you feel an arm swing around your shoulder, pulling you close to a warm body.

"You get in trouble again, Einstein?" You’re pressed close to Charlie and you can feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he speaks.

"You know actually," You turn his arms to look up at him. He keeps his arm wrapped around you, holding you close so that when you turn, your chest presses against his. Your face is much closer to his than expected, "It’s none of your business."

Charlie glances down at you, a boyish smirk plastered across his face, "I like the new look," He grins and looks over your outfit. Katie lets out a small laugh and shakes her head at the two of you.

"Don’t be creepy, Charlie." She walks closer to the two of you.

"I’m not! I’m being genuine, I think you look really nice, Y/N," Charlie lets you go but wraps his free arm around Katie’s shoulder, bringing her in close to him as well. You laugh at the image of the three of you, Charlie’s arms around each of you, all laughing animatedly.

"Mr. Miller, I don’t mean to interrupt such an utterly enthralling conversation, but I do need to get to my office at some point." When you turn around you see Hotch standing in the doorway, that you, Katie, and Charlie have managed to block. His head is tilted slightly down as he scours at the three of you. Well, there goes his good mood.

"Sorry, sir," Charlie’s voice is soft and small as he releases his grip on Katie so she can move to the right, but keeps an arm wrapped around you, pulling you to the left so that you all move out of Professor Hotchner’s way.

You feel Hotch’s eyes linger on you for a second before he goes storming down the hallways to his office.

"I swear to god that man is the devil spawn," He shakes his head, twirling a ring around his finger.

"He’s not that bad," You roll your eyes, pulling your bag up on your shoulder.

"Not that bad? Einstein, I’m pretty sure he hates you more than me if that’s even possible." Charlie teases, dragging you down the hallway with him and out into the cold outdoors.

You shake your head with a laugh and lean into Charlie’s arms out in the cold, Katie trailing close behind you, "It’s fine. I can take it."

"So what are our plans for tonight, ladies?" Charlie glances back at Katie behind the two of you who simply responds with a little shake of her head.

"Our plans," Katie pulls you out of Charlie’s grip and you laugh, feeling a rag doll being pulled between the two of them, "Are to watch a movie and get drunk in our apartment."

"Sounds like fun," He grins.

"Aw too bad you’re not invited," Katie gives him a small little pouty face.

"I never agreed to getting drunk," You shake your head, "It’s a Thursday and we have class tomorrow. How do you expect me to get through the day if I’m hungover?"

"God you know sometimes you can be such a buzzkill, Einstein."

"Do you ever stop to think that maybe I’m so much younger and smarter and more successful than you two because I work hard?" Your words might seem harsh but it’s just how you interact with your friends. You all tease each other, make fun of one another.

"Yeah, yeah we know, high IQ, blah blah blah, you’re basically a kid genius," Charlie rolls his eyes.

"Well, kid genius," Katie chuckles, "Could you just humor me? One or two drinks?"

"The things I do for you."

————————

Katie was not joking when she said she was planning on getting drunk because she’s already finished off a bottle of wine herself and you’re barely halfway through the movie you two are watching together.

Your phone buzzes on the couch and you reach for it, flipping it open to see a text from Hotch. You furrow your brows slightly and read the message.

What are you doing tonight?

You bite your lip at the message, taking a second to glance over at Katie, whose eyes are glued to the tv screen.

Drinking, watching a movie. You?

The texting feels unnatural. Again, he’s your professor, not some cute 20-something-year-old boy that you casually text on a Thursday night.

Isn’t drinking alcohol illegal at your age?

You roll your eyes at his response. He has so flagrantly demonstrated a lack of respect for rules, aka, not sleeping with students.

Contrary to what you might think of me, I don’t always follow the rules

His responses are rapid. What happened to getting his number in case of emergencies?

I think I prefer you when you listen to instructions.

Where’s the fun in that?

There’s a long pause in which he stops replying. You let out a breath and turn your attention back to Katie, whose eyes are starting to droop closed, the wine bottle tightly wrapped in her clutches.

You reach across her body and pull the bottle away, "Okay drunk-o, time for bed for you. And time to drink some water," Katie lets out a small groan and rolls over on the couch a little. You grab the empty bottles and cans, carrying them to the kitchen to recycle them.

"Einstein!" Katie’s shrill, wine-soaked voice rings throughout the apartment.

"One second, K," You call back, dropping everything into the recycling.

"Who the fuck is A.H. and why is he texting you?" Your heart sinks into your stomach. You let the last few cans clatter into the bin with an aggressive clang before rushing into the living room to snatch the phone out of Katie’s hands.

"Do you have a secret admirer?" Katie wags her brows at you.

"No. You’re drunk. Go to bed." You point at her bedroom like a disapproving mother.

"No, I can’t let you clean everything up by yourself." She stands up, swaying a little as she does. She reaches down for an empty glass but you’re quick to scoop it out of her hand.

"Please just go to bed." You laugh a little, still clutching your phone tightly against your chest, out of her reach.

Katie grumbles out a ‘fine’ before turning and disappearing into her room.

You finally get a chance to steal a look at your texts.

I’m still at work. Meet me at my office. Now.

——————

You teeter back and forth on your toes, waiting outside Hotch’s office. You glance down at your phone again, checking the time. Hotch texted you nearly an hour ago. It’s only been one week and Hotch is already switching up your agreement. You’re not upset about it, you’re actually excited to see him more. You do wonder, whether or not this infatuation he has with you will soon fade. Will he get bored of you? Will he realize that the initial attraction was all physical, nothing more than a few slip-ups? You know there’s more to you than just appearances, but does he know that?

You let out a long drawn-out breath, flipping open your phone to look at the time again. If he wasn’t going to show, he should’ve let you know. You take one step away from the office door when Hotch catches your arm to stop you. You let out a small gasp in shock.

"Going somewhere?" Your eyes snap up to his and there’s a hint of a smile playing on his mouth, "You’re not going to bail on me, are you?"

"Me?" You shake your head, "You texted me nearly an hour ago! I’ve been waiting for you."

Hotch sighs and reaches for the key to unlock his office door, leading you inside, his grip still firm on your upper arm. In an instant, Hotch whirls you around, pressing you back against the door, trapping you between it and his body.

"Do you know how impossible it is to be around you all day without touching you?" He inches in closer to you and you can feel his hot breath fan across your face. His lips gently brush against yours. You instinctively lean your head up, wanting to press your lips against his fully. "That little stunt you pulled today?"

Your breathing stutters as his hands roam your whole body, squeezing. Your hot flesh in his hands is pliable and you melt under his touch. "You liked it," You pant out.

His hand comes up to your neck, wrapping around it tightly. He forces your face up so you look at him and he slams your head back against the door, "Don’t be so fucking snippy with me." He growls and yanks you by the neck to press his lips to yours. His mouth is hot and needy. The kiss lasts a long time, one hand still firmly wrapped around your neck, the other tangling in your hair at the base of your neck.

He kisses underneath your jaw before hooking his hands up under your legs and lifting you off the ground. You cling to him tightly, hoping he doesn’t drop you. He slams your back against the wall and you let out a small gasp, both out of pleasure and excitement. "This is what you wanted, right?"

You’re panting heavily already and he’s barely touched you, your skin on fire. "Mhm," You manage to moan out. You’re amazed at how Hotch is still managing to hold you up against the wall. You gasp out as he presses hard against you, spreading your legs widely, pushing up your skirt so it bunches around your hips.

His head buries into your neck, kissing and nipping gently. Both of his hands move to cup your breasts, his palms filling with your warm skin. You let out a loud moan at the touch and Hotch chuckles under his breath at the sound. You grip his shoulders tightly and only manage a small whimper as you clench your thighs together.

Hotch brings his mouth up to meet yours once again, hungrily devouring your moans. You want to tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at it. You want to cup his cheeks and hold him close. He presses even closer to you, leaving no space between his body and yours.

"I can’t stop thinking about this," Hotch groans, pushing your shirt open more, now only holding you up with one arm. You can see the muscles in his arms rippling, the veins protruding. He tugs aside your bra and palms your breast, his rough hands on your velvety skin. He rubs your nipple between his fingers, "Your mouth, your body, us together."

You rock against him, pressing the hardness in his pants against you, eliciting a loud moan from you and a small growl from him at the pleasure you send radiating through him.

Your hands drop to start to undo his belt. He pulls you away from the wall spinning you around to place you on the edge of his desk. You push the fabric of his slacks down and stroke his warm skin. He hisses and grits his teeth in response, pulling away from your kiss to throw his head back.

"Be careful," You smirk, "Someone might hear us, professor."

"Let them." He shakes his head. Hotch’s eyes snap back down to yours and he doesn’t care about anything but pleasuring you. He pulls your mouth back against his and he feels himself consumed by your scent. He reaches down, gripping your thighs in his hands, placing your feet on the edge of the desk, parting your legs wide, all for him.

You slide closer, rubbing yourself against him. You need him. You want him and you’re so fucking tired of waiting. His hand trails between your bodies, rubbing you slowly, dipping just one finger into you, thrusting it ever so slowly.

"Please," You whine and as you throw your head back, Hotch’s mouth clinging to your throat, sucking and biting, kissing over the fading marks from your last rendezvous.

"Please what?" He grumbles against your neck.

"Fuck me," You can barely get the words out before he lifts you up, flips you over onto your stomach and thrusts up into you, in one motion. He thrusts hard and deep and you let out a moan, louder than anything.

Your body moves with his, your hips going back slightly to meet his every thrust. He fills you in just the perfect way and you’re panting and chanting his name, "God yes, sir, just like that."

He reaches around to grab both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back. "You wanted me to do this. To get angry. To take you. Show you, you’re mine, right?"

You struggle to let out a throaty ‘mhm’ in agreement. He keeps your wrists pinned with one hand and grabs your hair, yanking you up.

"That’s why you put on that little show today, right?" He growls close to your ear. You grind your hips back against his, "Use. Your. Words." He demands. He yanks on your hair a little tighter, in an attempt to remind you who has the dominant position.

"Yes!" You whine out, "This is what I wanted!"

"Good girl," His voice has a malicious tone, but not in a way that scares you. It excites you. He’s rough. He’s wild. He’s uncontrollable. And you’re the one who makes him feel that way. That’s powerful.

You arch back, your chest pressing against the wood on his desk. Hotch keeps your wrists pinned tightly behind your back as he pounds into you relentlessly. He bottoms out with every thrust, which leaves you struggling to cry out with pleasure. You cry out senselessly, every muscle in your body trembling, "Fuck daddy!" The words tumble out of your mouth and you barely take notice of them, your eyes rolling back in your head as you do.

"Did you just call me daddy?" Hotch releases your wrists to bend down and grab your neck. He wraps a large hand almost entirely around the base of your throat and yanks you up, your back pressed fully against him.

"Sorry," You attempt to moan out as Hotch continues to fuck you harder.

"Don’t apologize, pretty girl," He groans against your ear, "Say it again."

"Fuck, daddy!" The pace increases into something animalistic. Your body is shaking wildly at this point and you feel the pleasure building steadily, surging through you with every thrust. You feel his grip on your wrists loosening as his palms grow sweatier.

It’s not long before you’re tightening around him, desperately wishing for something to grab onto. You’re squirming under his touch, the pleasure almost too much as he barrels into you. You come hard and fast and he continues to fuck you through it, yanking you up against him again, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat.

He thrusts into you a few more times and you’re practically crying out in response, your eyes watering, tears running down your cheeks at the overstimulation. He soon comes to a halt, shuddering and groaning, throwing his head back as he releases into you. He lets you down back onto the desk gently, your overheated damp skin contrasting against the cold, smooth wood.

You lie there a second, attempting to catch your breath and steady your heart rate. You feel Hotch press a small tender kiss along your shoulder blades and spine and it’s oddly comforting. "That’s it pretty girl." He says against your skin. He helps you sit up, "I knew you could take it."

You wipe your face, attempting to clean any smudged makeup but you know you must look a mess. Your eyes are glossy and your face is flushed. Your hair is a knotted mess from where he’s tangled his fingers into it. You right yourself, fixing your skirt, tucking your shirt back in.

There’s a long drawn-out moment of silence where you glance at Hotch awkwardly, not sure what you would say to him now. It’s odd how you two are so intimately equated with each others’ bodies but you feel flustered just speaking to him. "I guess I’ll… head home." You smile softly.

You start towards the door but Hotch stops you, "You shouldn’t-" He sighs and grabs his briefcase from the desk, "You shouldn’t walk home alone. It’s dark outside."

"I live just one or two blocks from campus, I should be fine," You shrug, "Plus I’m sure you want to get home. You’ve been working all day."

Hotch rolls his eyes and practically pushes you out of his office as he shuts the lights and locks up, "Stop being so stubborn and just let me walk you home."

You simply shut your mouth and nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him over this. You walk out of the building, Hotch walking alongside you.You wrap your arms around yourself as you step out into the cold, a small shiver running through you.

"You should’ve brought a jacket," Hotch nods slightly at your shivering.

"I didn’t really think to grab one when I was rushing out the door," You tease. Hotch smiles in response and the conversation comes to a lull as you both walk alongside one another. You glance down for a second to see Hotch rubbing his fingers together at his side. It’s something you’ve seen him do a few times, whether it’s while he’s lecturing or when he's focused or when he’s reading. "You do that a lot." You uncross one of your arms to point down at his hands. "That thing with your fingers. You rub them together."

He glances down at his hands and gives a small shrug of his shoulders, "It’s just something I do, I guess."

"It’s how I know you’re really focused on something," You nod letting silence take over once again. You try to focus on the sound of your shoes on the pavement or steadying your breathing. Your heart is beating fast. It always is around Hotch.

"That’s good," Hotch speaks suddenly. It’s as if he was having a conversation with himself before speaking out loud, "Being observant. It’s a good quality for a lawyer."

"How so?" You glance over at him, eyes trailing over every single facial feature. You smile at the way the cold air has given his cheeks a slight pink tinge. The wind tousles the little hairs at the top of his head.

"Being able to observe and understand your opponent’s behavior. The jury’s behavior," He nods, "you need to know what flusters people, what trips them up. You need to know their tells, their weaknesses, their strengths. If you can understand and observe the behavior of all the people in that courtroom… you have full control over them."

"So by analyzing behaviors… you gain some sense of how to control people," You nod, reciting back to him. There’s a pause in conversation again. "Do you know my behaviors?"

A wide smirk starts to spread across Hotch’s face, "Yes. I know when you’re angry, or when you’re focused. I can tell when you’re…" He trails and glances down your figure, "Excited. I know what makes you feel good."

You feel the heat rising up your neck and into your face. Suddenly the cold air isn’t as biting anymore. "Care to share any of these behaviors of mine?"

"I’m pretty sure you said it yourself earlier… something along the lines of ‘where’s the fun in that?" He laughs and you give his arm a nudge.

Another pause. You’re nearly a block from your apartment, do you just give up and resign yourself to silence?

"What’s your favorite color?" You blurt out and turn to look at him.

"My favorite… what?" He laughs and shoves his hands deeper into his pants pockets, "Are you serious?"

"Fine, nevermind." You shrug, "I’m just trying to get to know you."

"By asking about my favorite color?" There’s a judgmental tone to his voice but when you look over his face, that small hint of a grin lingers.

"I said nevermind," You stop in place and nod up at your apartment building. "Well… this is my stop." You joke. You feel a strong urge to stick your hand out to shake his which would be incredibly awkward, but you’re not sure what kind of send-off is appropriate. A goodnight kiss is simply far too intimate and a hug is too friendly. You settle for an uncomfortable nod and tight-lipped smile, "Good night Hotch."

"Aaron," He nods, "You can call me Aaron."

Your cheeks ache from smiling so hard. You give one last look before walking up the steps to the front door of your building.

"Hey, Einstein," Aaron calls out and you freeze in your place a little. Something about hearing that nickname come out of his mouth is incredibly endearing. You turn to him, "Blue."

"What?" You furrow your brows at his words.

"My favorite color. It’s blue." He smiles. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing your smile.

"Good night, Aaron," You repeat and open your door.

"Good night, Einstein."

Chapter 6: I.VI →

#aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch #hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher x y/n #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #wanna be yours fanfic

38 notes · View notes

pascalscenarios · 3 years

Text

HOW TO LOVE (Marcus Pike x Reader

HOW TO LOVE

Marcus Pike x Reader

Summary: To say thank you for helping you out last night, you take Marcus out for Lunch

Warning: None

Words: 2016

Author's Note: Hello! It’s been a hot minute! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I’ve kinda been all over the place for the last two weeks. I finally had time to actually write! I’ll try my best to go back to posting on Saturdays/Sunday like I was.

My Whiskey fic Common Ground, will be coming up soon pretty soon. Sorry for the wait!

Hope you all are doing well! Enjoy! ( this chapters sorta boring sorry :( )

- K

CH 1| CH 2 | CH 3

Chapter 3

You sat at the information desk as you watched Marcus from across the lobby. The Art crime team came in early this morning. You were observing him, taking notice of how he interacts with others. He was talking to another agent. His hands were on his hips laughing about something. You wanted to say thank you again for last night, but you didn’t feel like bothering him.

You must have been staring for a while because the other agent took notice. They said something making Marcus look over his shoulder, locking eyes with you.

You were caught, but you tried to play it off as best you could. You quickly make yourself look busy, picking up a pen and writing random things down on a blank piece of paper.

Your eyes slowly glaze up seeing Marcus say something to the agent and walk towards your way. You continued writing on the paper making a fake to-do list, writing whatever popped into your mind.

“Hey” he smiled standing in front of the desk.

“Hi”

“How’s your day been for far?”

“Uh...busy!” you say, not daring to look up at him, embarrassed that he saw you staring at him. You didn’t know why you were still trying to pretend, you were caught.

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I saw you staring at me.” he joked at you, smiling.

You felt your cheeks burn. There was no doubt you were turning red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare...”

He chuckled. “It’s alright”

“It’s just...I.. uh...I wanted to say thank you again… you know for last night” you finally look at him, fiddling with your pen.

“Yeah, it was no problem. Did you make it home okay?”

“ I did, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“How about you? You made it home alright?”

“Yeah, just fine...If something like that happens again, just let me know...actually-” He leans in close, grabbing the yellow sticky note from off your desk, and takes the pen that you were holding from your hands.

“Here” He quickly scribbles something down, peeling it off and handing it with the pen back to you.

You take it as he places the sticky note pad back on your desk.

You look down at what he wrote.

Marcus: 202-555-4275

He gave you his number.

“My cell phone number in case you need anything...Is that okay?” He was hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

“Yeah, thank you” you smiled.

“Alright, well I just wanted to tell you hello real quick. I’ll see you around.” With that, he smiles and makes his way towards the elevators.

Without thinking you called out his name “Marcus!”

He turns around looking at you. “Yeah?”

“Do you wanna maybe get lunch later today? My treat. It’s the least I could do since you helped me out last night.” you offered. You felt bad for the way you treated him and then he was willing to help you. You wanted to return the kind gesture.

He smiled brightly at you.

“Sure, I’ll swing by your desk at 12?”

“Yeah” “Okay, I’ll see you then!” With that, he heads on his way.

“Lunch date with Marcus Pike?” Laurie chimes in, sitting in her seat next to yours and we both watch him wait for the elevators.

You spin your chair back facing towards, Laurie following. You take the sticky note, folding it up, and stuffing it in your pants pocket. “It’s not a lunch date...more of a thank-you lunch. I got caught up in the rain last night and my car got towed while I was printing the packets out.”

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I should have gotten those packets printed out earlier-”

“No! It’s not your fault. Everything worked out fine actually. Marcus was still around. He gave me a ride and helped me get my car back from the impound...It was really sweet honestly.”

“See he’s not so bad after all. Give him a chance dear, get to know him.”

Although you were still a little wary of him, part of you was curious to learn more about Marcus.

…

It was noon. Marcus should be coming around soon. You were working on brainstorming ideas

“You ready?” Marcus

“Sorry, just give a few minutes.”

“No worries take your time.” He says he patiently waits for you.

You head over to the office grabbing your wallet and phone from your bag. You walked back out into the desk area placing the lunch break sign out, then walking over to the short desk door, letting yourself out.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I know this good cafe that’s not far from here, it's down a block. Not too far, we can walk.”

“Okay.”

You two head over to the exit, Marcus opening the door for you. “Thanks”

He gives you a smile as you exit, following behind you. You both made your way down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Today was a nice day. It was sunny, a blue sky with patches of clouds, and a soft wind blew.

“So” Marcus begins to say.

“How are you liking D.C. so far?” he stuffs his hands in his pocket as he walks beside you.

“It’s great. I’m from Virginia actually. My family used to drive up to D.C. all the time when I was a kid.” You smile thinking about the fond memories you have.

“Ah, so you’re used to all the hustle and bustle around here…” He chuckles.

“Sorta, It's different living here than visiting. I’m from a small town so the rush 27/7 is something I need to get used to.”

“I know what you mean, I’m originally from Texas. I worked at the FBI headquarters in Austin. I’m used to the rush but D.C. is a whole different type of face pace”

“Texas? You’re pretty far from home. How come you’re out here on the east coast?” you asked.

“In Austin, I was working on local art crime cases. I got offered a promotion to run a task force here in D.C. dealing with international art crime.”

“Wow, that's great.”

“Thanks”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Couple years now.”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, I do, some aspects of it, like my friends and family. I try to visit when I can, if not then phone calls and facetime are the next best thing.” He stayed silent for a few moments. “Do you miss home?” “Not really, other than my parents. I’m glad I got out of my hometown honestly. It’s like a breath of breath air.” you sighed in relief.

“Yeah, I’m kinda glad I got out of Austin. I had a fiance back home. We were supposed to start a life out here, but she ended up leaving me for another man.”

Maybe this was what Elliot meant when he said you might have something in common with Marcus… ex issues. You felt terrible that Marcus' fiance left him for another man. It reminded you of the countless times your ex cheated on you. You knew the feeling. The feeling of hurt and betrayal.

“Marcus, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s alright. It was a while ago. I’ve moved past it.” He shrugged.

“I know, but still that must have hurt.” You say sadly.

“It did, but what happened, happened. Life moves forwards. The person you’re meant to be with will come along eventually.”

Marcus was so optimistic and helpful when it came to love, unlike you. You on the other hand were fearful and scared of it.

“Here we are.”

He says stopping in front of an old brick building. You look up reading the sign outside.

Martells’

“It’s a family-owned cafe and has been here for years. They got the best sandwiches in D.C.”

…

You were slowly warming up to Marcus, starting to grow comfortable in his presence. You two sat at a table for the past hour eating lunch and talking about random things. He asked you questions about yourself. He was genuinely interested and cared about getting to know you, your hobbies, and your passions. It was strange for you, but it felt nice to be heard and even seen in a sense. Your ex never cared or seemed interested when it came to things you were interested in or liked.

Marcus told a story about his first case as an agent. He couldn’t help but laugh at his own story, poking fun of himself. A huge smile was smeared on his face, his eyes squinting as he laughed. You liked his laugh. It was that contagious.

“Oh no!” You gasped, laughing.

“They never let me hear the end of it. To this day, they still talk about it down in Austin. My old coworkers still give me shit for it when I talk to them.” He shakes his head.

“How did you even bounce back from that?”

“You didn’t…You wait until someone makes a bigger mistake, but mine was top tier. I don’t think anyone could outdo what I did, but I managed to figure out cases which took most of the attention away” He picks up his soda, taking a sip.

His phone began to ring. He pulls it out of his pocket looking at the caller ID.

“Sorry I gotta take this”

“No, of course”

“Hello?” he answers the call. “Yeah...Mhm...Shit. Okay, I’ll be there in a few.” He hands up, stuffing the phone back in his pocket.

“I’m sorry, something came up, I have to go to the FBI building.”

“I understand. I should be going back anyway.” You looked down at your watch. You lost track of time. You went over your lunch break.

The two of you stand up, throwing your trash away and exiting the cafe.

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you,” You tell Marcus.

“I’m not going anywhere yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “But you have to go??? Aren't you gonna take a cab or is someone gonna pick you up”

“Yeah I gotta go, but I’m walking you back”

“Marcus, you seriously don’t need to” You were fine walking back on your own.

“No, I’m walking with you back” He insisted.

“But-” you tried to protest.

He cuts you off “-No buts, come on”

You gave up trying to argue about it and you let him walk back with him. When you reach the museum steps you both stop.

“Thank you for lunch.”

“You’re welcome. Martells was great. You weren’t kidding when you said the sandwiches were good.”

“I told you...I had a great time. Maybe we could do lunch again some other time?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great...I’ll see you later. I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“You too, Marcus”

You lightly wave. You make your way up the steps to the top. You look over your shoulder, seeing that Marcus was still standing. Once he sees that he reaches the top, he walks away down the sidewalk back in the direction you guys came from.

You open the entrance door walking through the lobby to the information desk. You see Elliot at the desk talking to Laurie.

“Well look you came back from her overextended lunch..” Elliot teases.

“I’m so sorry, I lost track of time-” You say as you make your way to your chair.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize, especially if you were on a date with Marcus Pike!”

“How’d it go?’ Laurie asked.

“First off, It wasn't a date, it was a thank-you lunch” you addressed Elliot, “second, it was fine,” you tell Laurie.

“Fine? Just fine?” Elliot gives you a look.

“Yeah…”

“That’s it?” Elliot was expecting more.

“What do you want me to say, Elliot?”

“More than just that it was fine!”

“Elliot, Marcus, and I hardly know each other. All we did was talk. That was it.” You rolled your eyes.

“What do you think about him?” Laurie asked.

“He’s...different.”

“Different bad or Different good?” Elliot raised an eyebrow at you curious as to what your response will be.

“Good...Different good.” a smile slowly crept on your face.

TAG // @alberta-sunrise @spacenerdpascal @ryleyrooroo @reader-s-cantina

MT // @wifeofdindjarin @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso @greeneyedblondie44

#the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #Marcus #Pedro Pascal #pedro

43 notes · View notes

monsterywriting · 3 years

Text

Thenerius - pt 4

masterlist

word count: 7,146

AN: slight warning for mentions of animal death/general farm stuff. i tried not to write anything too graphic, but i realize what may seem pg for me may not be for everyone! i think i made up for it in the end, though :)

When you arrived back home from Alfore, you made a beeline to your room, leaving Thenerius to unload what you bought. From your desk, you grab a few blank sheets of paper from your stack and a pen, writing out a list of chores for Thenerius to do with detailed instructions underneath each numbered task.

By the time you finished and returned back outside to meet Thenerius, you’d filled out two of the papers front and back.

“Do you know how to read?” You ask as you hold out the papers for him to take.

“Of course,” he scoffs as he does, scanning the pages.

You blink at his unexpected reaction, attempting to alleviate his defensiveness, “No shame if you couldn’t. Some of the wealthiest people in the capital couldn’t. That’s what they hired so many scribes for.”

“Well, I said I can,” Thenerius not quite snapped, but he was clearly getting more wound up from you pushing the subject. You realized too late that your response came across as skeptic.

“All right. I put the faster jobs first and the longer ones last,” you say instead, opting to smooth over the topic entirely, “Don’t worry about finishing all of it today, I just wrote what I could think of. I’ll be back.”

“Wait, you’re leaving again so soon?” Thenerius looked up from the list at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I have to go to The Deep,” you reply, “It will be fast, just returning something and coming back.”

“What about the rabbits?” He asked, following you into the barn. You had nearly forgotten, the four creatures sitting quietly in their cage sitting in the barn.

“Clear out one of the empty stables and put them in there. All they need is hay and clean water for now,” you worry your bottom lip before continuing, “I don’t… normally leave so often when I’m not working.”

You’re not sure where the need to explain yourself comes from, nor why you feel placated when Thenerius seemingly accepts it.

You clear your throat, taking Horse by his reins and walking out the barn, “Then you can get started on that list.”

Horse makes it immediately clear he isn’t happy to be ridden again so soon - testing your commands to move and only going forward when you press your heels into his belly - but you know he’ll calm down once you reach The Deep and bribe him with a sack full of oats.

You enter The Deep in record time through the side door near the stables that lead directly into the kitchens. There was no one in there besides the new girl, who jumped and nearly collided into the large pot she stood in front of when she turned around to see you standing there, collecting herself and whispering a near inaudible ‘hello’.

She was painfully shy and as quiet as a mouse, and you couldn’t remember her name despite knowing you’d been introduced before. She couldn’t meet your gaze directly, something you knew not to take personally as she avoided everyone’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she would do once the tavern got busy and all available hands were needed taking and serving orders.

“I need to find Lenora,” you interrupt her rambled apologies, having no patience waiting for the girl to form a sentence, “Is she in her room?”

“Uh—actually, Mr. Thistle is looking for you,” she said, shrinking back when you blinked at her - as though you were a ticking bomb waiting to blow. It dawned on you that this was not her normal aversion to social situations, realizing everyone already knew you spat with Lenora earlier. Great.

“I understand,” you say as gently as you can, “but I need to speak with Lenora, first.”

You emphasize speak, and after a moment’s hesitation, the girl nodded, looking around before whispering, “Mr. Thistle is working at the bar right now. You have to go back around to the main entrance.”

You nod your appreciation, stepping back out and going back around the building to the entrance to the inn portion, passing the main desk with a nod to the person working and climbing up the stairs. You knock softly on Lenora’s door, not wanting to draw the attention of Mr. Thistle, who had full view of you standing on the balcony if he were to look up.

As soon as you hear the door unlock, you push your way in and close it behind you, pausing once you see Lenora’s tear-streaked face. You had been until that point rehearsing what you would say, only planning on saying your piece and then leaving. Now, however, the words eluded you, seeming simultaneously too far and too little. When you finally managed to push them out, it was with a much less certain execution than you had imagined.

“I brought back your coins,” you fish the coin purse out of your bodice and force it into Lenora’s hands, “If you were meaning to trick me into taking them, you shouldn’t have used the embroidered one I gave you.”

Lenora turned over the small bag, her mouth falling open in a small ‘o’ once she saw the leaping frog, her thumb running over the vibrantly colored thread.

“Thenerius told me you thought I was… troubled. In the mind,” you continue awkwardly, going off script, the impromptu speech bursting forth now that you were in front of your friend, “I- I understand your concern. It doesn’t excuse what you did - it was incredibly stupid - but I understand it.”

“You’re right,” Lenora sniffled, tears gathering anew in her already red eyes, “I know I don’t deserve to ask for your forgiveness, but I just didn’t know how to get through to you—so I made a decision. A bad one, that only brought you trouble.

“I heard you speaking with Mr. Thistle that day. How you needed more shifts and- and gold. I knew you wouldn’t any of out help so I thought… Thenerius would be the best bet to help.”

“I’m not… as angry,” you finally admit, taking a long pause to take in the information and form an opinion. It’s true. You know firsthand that worry and desperation can drive a person to take drastic measures, and though you can’t forgive Lenora entirely just yet, you can’t fault her in trying to help.

“Has Thenerius come back to the inn already? I’m sorry I didn’t think matters through-”

“No,” you shake your head, wording the next sentence out of your mouth very carefully, “Actually, he’s staying with us for now. He agreed to work for room and board.”

“What?!” Lenora exclaimed, her recalcitrance forgotten for the moment with the potential gossip, “Tell me everything! Have you slept together yet?”

“Not telling,” you smile coyly, trying your best to come across as though you’re hiding the most passionate night of your life, the full details of which filled with debauchery just waiting for a listening ear, “That’s your punishment.”

You leave Lenora there, her pleas for mercy and just a yes or no falling on deaf ears. Rather than head back out the main entrance, however, you go to the stairs leading down into the tavern, Mr. Thistle immediately noticing you from the bar and watching your descent closely.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you until your next shift,” he said as soon as you reached the bar counter, wasting no time getting straight to the point with his usual bluntness, “What happened between you and Lenora?”

“Personal matters, boss,” you reply with a glance at the lone customer sitting on the far end of the bar, “Sorry it happened at work. It won’t happen again.”

A blatant lie. A week couldn’t pass without someone getting annoyed at someone else at work and starting fights - most much more eventful and public than your and Lenora’s brief exchange of words.

Mr. Thistle looked up at the balcony, then at you, “I take it that means everything has already been settled. I don’t suppose you would be willing to tell me what exactly it was about, then?”

“Nope,” you answer cheerfully, “Now, it’s my day off and you very specifically said you did not want to see me for a whole week, so I’ll leave you to it.”

You could hear Mr. Thistle mutter something about how you all always closed ranks on him once you headed towards the kitchen, but he waved you off nonetheless.

“Wait!” You stopped at the sudden call of your name, just about to step outside, turning to see Lenora and the other girl holding a wrapped cylinder. Food.

You accept the gift with a nod, stepping out into the courtyard with a vastly improved state of mind and a considerable weight off your shoulders, ready to return home and finally eat.

When you do return once again for hopefully the final time that week, Thenerius was hammering away on the barn roof.

You hop off of Horse, looking up at the tiefling in disbelief. Replacing the old shingles had been the seventh or eighth item on your list and you hadn’t been gone long. You couldn’t believe Thenerius could have finished every task before that one in the time it took you to go to The Deep and back.

When he noticed your arrival, Thenerius made his way down the ladder to meet you leading Horse into the barn, still carrying the meal Lenora had packed for you. He was drenched in sweat and had shred his outer layers despite the frigid air, the sun beating down thanks to the cloudless sky.

“You’ve already finished the first page?” You called out once he was within hearing range, hopping off the last rung of the ladder and onto solid ground.

“First page?” He echoes questioningly, your stomach sinking until he lets out a sharp bark of laughter at your reaction.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You let out the breath you had held, looking out at the rest of the homestead, “You mended the fences?”

“Yes.”

“Cleaned out the chicken litter?”

“Did that first.”

“Then took it to the compost?”

“If you’d like, you can go through the list yourself to check,” Thenerius offered, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

“No. No, that’s fine,” you reply, embarrassed by your own micromanaging before remembering the food and holding it up, “I brought lunch. Go rinse off in the river or something while I reheat this.”

The house is much warmer than outside, your mother or Thenerius apparently taking advantage of the new firewood.

Thenerius enters the house just as you’re setting down the plates, looking like an illustration from a strip in a newspaper you remember seeing once - a man who fell into a freezing lake and becomes an icicle.

You peer out the window, barely noticing how dark it suddenly was, clouds obscuring the sun and the tops of the trees bowing to the wind - certainly making the trek back from the river miserable.

“Go sit in front of the fire, quickly,” you wince half with pity, grabbing one of his folded blankets and throwing it around the tiefling’s shoulders as soon as he was seated in the warm glow of the fire, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would get cloudy.”

“How the hell can anyone get in that water?” Thenerius gritted out through chattering teeth, shivering uncontrollably now that he was beginning to thaw out, “I think my stones are still inside my body…”

“The water feels quite nice in the summer,” your mother suddenly appears behind you, both you and Thenerius twisting around to stare at her slack-jawed. Her response to the former made it clear she had heard the latter comment.

You can’t contain your laughter, doubling over when you turn and see Thenerius’ mortified expression - and your mother’s amusement with the situation only fueled your own. It gave you the perfect excuse to not see how he watches you, his embarrassed grimace fading into a soft smile at your mirth while your mother watches the entire interaction with an unreadable expression.

You know she immediately catches on to the significance of Thenerius’ meaningful look, the entire reason for his sudden appearance into your lives undoubtedly obvious to her now.

“Everybody go sit,” you are still slightly winded by your outburst but considerably subdued as you walk over to your chair and plop down, taking a sip from your ale - a generous addition to the peace offering from Lenora.

The smell of the warm stew was heavenly for your senses - beef tips, carrot and potatoes all cooked in bone broth - making your mouth water at the sight. Cows were rare in these parts, Mr. Thistle the only owner of a herd for miles. Beef was the primary dish of The Deep, Mr. Thistle also offering deliveries during the holidays for those who had the gold to spend on it.

“Did Lenora make this?” Your mother breathed in deeply, both her and Thenerius clearly having the same reaction to the food as you did.

You shake your head, wasting no time taking a spoonful in your mouth, “The new girl. Applied to be a barmaid, but truthfully, her talents are as a cook.”

“The quiet one?” Your mother smiled knowingly, “I must agree she’s much better than you or I, though you’ve been making some improvements.”

You roll your eyes at the teasing jab, mirroring her smile as you chuckled. You weren’t a bad cook, but you were no chef, your own cooking style having only a goal of ‘edible’, “I helped in part, at least - harvesting the meat.”

“You slaughtered the animal?” Thenerius interjects - no judgement in his tone but definitely curiosity.

“Of course,” you laugh, nearly choking on your ale in the process, “Where do you think all the meat you’ve been eating comes from? A grocer?”

The conversation continues easily, your bellies filling with seconds and then thirds with ale still left over. You notice that Thenerius stops drinking long before your mother or you. It’s because he isn’t in the company of his crew, you try to tell yourself, but you can’t help the feeling of guilt that gnaws at you saying otherwise - that he was able to stop now that you weren’t continuously serving him.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” your mother grunts, gathering the empty plates before you can even think about getting up. You’re all too happy to let her, glad to see her so invigorated for the first time in a long while. You yourself feel your eyelids begin to grow heavy, the sheer amount of food you consumed beckoning for you to take a nap.

“I should keep working on the list, too,” Thenerius said, beginning to rise.

You place your hand on the crook of his elbow to stop him, “You’ve been up since before dawn and you’ve gotten plenty done today. You shouldn’t overwork yourself now.”

“I’ve had harder jobs. I can handle some farm work,” Thenerius snorted, dismissing your advice and standing without so much as a grunt as though to prove his point, “I’m a pirate, remember?.”

You shrug, too sleepy to seriously argue with his pride. Farm work was definitely different to manning a boat with the wind and current doing most of the work. And he also had an entire crew to rely on - here it was just him and you. The first day you worked on the homestead after so many years, you hadn’t been able to get out of bed the next day. However, you decide as Thenerius leaves to finish the shingles, it was no skin off your back if he woke up sore the next day. Either way, he was still going to work - he had to help you castrate the goats, along with all the other daily chores and whatever you wouldn’t get to on the list today.

You grab two woven baskets from the kitchen and go outside soon after Thenerius leaves, wishing the sun was still out as you walk to the vegetable garden downhill behind the pasture, a buffer between the animals’ waste and the river when it rained.

The rest of your very short afternoon is spent there, meticulously going down each row on your hands and knees pulling out the seemingly endless weeds that grew in your absence, tossing them onto the grass. Once you were confident that you got every last sprout, you began to harvest some of the tubers, yielding a good amount of carrots, potatoes and even a few onions.

Once the sun kissed the treetops and you were engulfed in the shadow of the barn from where you worked in the garden, you began the long process of drawing a bath, hauling bucket after bucket to the house. The sun sets by the time you finish, the water steaming invitingly. Your mother goes first, and you enter right after her.

You relax in the hot water, perfectly contented with your day and more at ease than you had been in a long time, something you couldn’t have imagined when Thenerius first showed up at your home and upended your quiet existence. You look up at the heavens, still able to make out the vast array of stars even through the steam rising to the sky. You watch in quiet awe for a while, only absentmindedly attending to actually bathing.

You only just stepped out the bathroom when Thenerius finally returns, your mother nearly done with dinner.

He seemed in high spirits, nowhere near as fatigued as you had been on your first day. You would never admit that you were wrong to Thenerius, but you definitely weren’t complaining if it meant he would be able to work the next day.

You go to sleep early, eating while Thenerius was bathing and fast asleep by the time he gets out, tired after all the running around and the emotional mountains and valleys you endured with Lenora.

You don’t dream that night, waking suddenly with the sun still well below the horizon and the rooster not yet crowing his song. You get up anyways, actually feeling well-rested and not nearly as dreadful as you normally did after your days off, having done admittedly little hard labor yourself that day.

After changing into clean day clothes, you trudge into the kitchen to make coffee, Thenerius still snoring in his cot as you pass. He sleeps through the rooster’s first crow, and you let him rest until the morning fog receded from the field and the sky brightened from a dim gray to silver just before the sun broke the horizon.

When you finally do rouse him - first whispering his name and then shaking his shoulder - Thenerius startles, a pained groan leaving him before any coherent word. You hide your smirk, knowing now was not the time for an ‘I told you so’ no matter how deserved, simply waiting patiently for Thenerius to stretch his back, four distinct pops his reward.

“Have some coffee, then meet me in the barn,” you say quietly, waiting to leave until Thenerius nods in acknowledgement, with obvious difficulty.

It was freezing outside, the temperature having dropped significantly overnight, but you forgo your new fur coat, not wanting to get blood on it. You get the hardest part of the entire process done first - separating the three male kids from the herd. You let them out of their stable and into the larger barn area, the group going straight to the far door out of habit. Instead of releasing them immediately out to pasture, you picked out and carried each boy one by one into the empty stall next to the rabbits before letting the rest out and shutting the door behind them. The kids weren’t happy, bleating loudly and standing on their hind legs at the stall door to try to see where their mothers had gone, but the rabbits seemed unperturbed by their temporary neighbors as they continued nibbling their hay.

Thenerius trudges slowly in as you’re putting the loudest two month old in the tipping table, bags like bruises under his eyes.

“You’ll be helping me castrate the boys today,” you announce, handing Thenerius a pump bottle of brown liquid, “This is antiseptic. Your job is to spray them with it afterwards.”

Thenerius glances as the cleaned and sharpened knife in your hand and then at the goat on the table, appearing confused, “You mean-?”

You waste no time, not wanting to keep the kid restricted and stressed longer than necessary, rubbing a numbing paste on the area before making the first incision.

Thenerius is pale as he sprays the final goat, all blood drained from his face as you right the table and release him to waddle back to the large stable to join the other two. You wipe your hands the best you can on your skirt before handing Thenerius the bucket with the discarded testes to give to the chickens. He looks shellshocked, no doubt empathizing with the emasculated goats, even if his pain was an entirely different sort.

“I’ll give you the list of daily chores you’ll be needing to do from now on, then you can get started on whatever you didn’t finish on the list yesterday,” you said, not at all reveling in Thenerius’ stricken look, knowing he couldn’t argue with you after you had so specifically warned him about the very pain he was currently experiencing.

Before anything else, you check to make sure the goats had plenty of hay to feed on since they wouldn’t be out grazing for a while. After washing the blood from your hands and knife, you spend the morning fencing off the area on the side of the barn where the rabbits were kept, the temporary housing working out so well you decided to make it permanent rather than make a hutch from scratch. You would simply cut out a door in the side of the barn that could be opened to let them out to graze in the miniature pasture in the spring. You dug out holes for the fence posts, your plan to eventually make a fence of chickenwire high enough none of the rabbits would be able to jump over it.

Once you were done plotting out the fence, you began the tedious process of tilling the soil inside the fenced area, careful to keep the chunks of pure sod undisturbed. In the newly bare patches, you planted the leftover winter pea seeds from the main pasture.

By the time noon came and went, you had largely forgotten about Thenerius, lost in your work and only catching fleeting glimpses of him in your periphery; a colorful phantom standing out amongst the washed out wood and bluestem grass even more so than he did in the homely atmosphere of the tavern. He flitted around the property, first in the chicken coop, then in the pasture and, finally, nowhere.

You don’t realize how much time had elapsed since you last saw hide or hair of him until you took a quick reprieve to get your mother’s tablets ready with a glass of water. It suddenly struck you that you hadn’t seen him pass by the kitchen window at all in the time you’d been standing there, and when you peer out more closely, the only movement you could see was the animals lazily grazing in the pasture. His horse was still grazing with all the rest, so he hadn’t taken off. You try to think of the last time you saw him, but the brief flashes all blended together.

You left the tablets and water on the nightstand next to the bed where your mother rested and went out to milk the goats, mostly filling two pails and then going into the barn - only intending to pasteurize it and having no other motive besides perhaps making sure you didn’t accidentally kill your farmhand on his second day.

Thenerius was standing in the center of what appeared to be a wood scrap pile, staring down incredibly exasperated at his list. You caught a glimpse of a sketch you recognized immediately, having forgotten you’d asked Thenerius to build a rabbit hutch.

Unsure how to say nevermind when he was already working on it - and clearly frustrated with it - you instead walk in with the two pails and interrupt his concentration, “Come help me with this, Thenerius.”

He drops everything to take the pales from you, and you suspect it had less to do with his desire to help you than being able to take a break from building. You let him, grabbing the bottoms of the pails so they wouldn’t jostle as much during the transfer.

“The pasteurizer is over there,” you point, ignoring the giant pile and walking to the small metal contraption. Lifting the lid, you take out the funnel and seven metal bottles from the wire cage inside the main chamber, setting them down on the floor and sticking the funnel into the first bottle. You gestured for Thenerius to pour, moving through each bottle until both pails were emptied.

You place the filled bottles back into their wire slots and pointing at the pails, “Go wash those out and bring back water.”

“But the hutch-” Thenerius trailed off, looking at the unfinished scraps of wood.

“It’s fine, this needs to be done first,” you assure him, motioning for him to go.

Once he leaves, you go to the pile and grab small pieces of wood, sticking them in the chamber underneath the pasteurizer along with some hay. When Thenerius returns, you take the pails and begin filling the main chamber, stopping once the bottles were almost submerged and striking a match to light the hay.

You step back from the soon to be hot metal once you place the lid back on, keeping a close eye on the thermometer.

“You don’t have to make the hutch anymore. I’m just going to keep them in the stall,” you finally admit as you wait.

Despite still working as hard as he did the day before, it was evident that Thenerius was in pain, taking care not to move too much and antsy as he stood behind you.

“You can sit, you know. This is going to take a while.”

“I’m afraid if I sit I won’t be able to get back up,” Thenerius replies, his grim expression unchanging even when you burst into laughter.

“Suit yourself, then. You could always end the day early. Honestly, you’ve done more these past two days than I would be able to do in a month.”

Even your rare praise isn’t able to convince Thenerius, who resolutely denies your offer to rest. Deciding to get dinner started as the sun lowered in the sky, you instruct Thenerius when and how to close the bottom chamber and where the mitts were to take out the wire cage so he could bring the milk to you in the kitchen.

Later that evening, Thenerius all but collapsed into the chair next to you, favoring one leg where one of the goats rammed into his side when he was herding them back into the barn. Earlier, you had considered asking him to also draw the bath, but seeing how ravenously he ate his cold dinner, you were glad you had taken pity on him and done it yourself, your mother already out the bath.

“Go wash up,” you prod his leg with the side of your foot, careful not to hit it too hard.

Groaning, Thenerius painstakingly rose back to his feet and you could have sworn you heard him utter a few curses under his breath as he shed his boots and jacket at the door before trudging to the bathroom.

You enter a few minutes later unannounced, Thenerius immediately splashing down chin-deep into the water in an attempt to hide himself, stammering nonsense at your sudden appearance.

“Calm down, I just brought you some magnesium sulfate and scented oils,” you interrupt sternly, setting your supplies down and sitting on the edge of the tub directly behind Thenerius, who had turned away from you.

You pour a generous amount of the salt into the bath, enough that the water becomes opaque. However, before you add the oil, you hesitate, noticing Thenerius’ back is still streaked with dirt too stubborn to be rinsed away. You tell yourself to just pour in the oil anyways, or even just leaving it there to do himself

“Lean forward,” you find yourself saying instead, grabbing a clean washcloth and dunking it in the water, “You missed your back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I don’t want to have to clean up dirt after you.” The words come out a bit harsher than you mean them to be, but you succeed in getting Thenerius to comply with your command, his chest submerged under the steaming water and exposing his back.

Scars of all kinds were scattered all over his skin, some paper-thin lines of lavender with the passage of time while others were a deep red wine - old burns and bullet holes. You lathered the bar soap into the washcloth, but your attention kept returning to the raised and puckered skin the width of your forefinger, ten overlapping stripes horizontal across the expanse of his back. The remnants of a particularly brutal lashing.

“You’ve never told me the story behind these,” you murmur, pressing the sudsy cloth against his shoulder blade at the very edge of the topmost scar, the ridge much more pronounced than the others; likely the first. You feel the phantom pain in your back, easily picturing the painful healing process. Thenerius had always bragged to you about his scars, but you never saw these particular ones - never even been shown his back, for that matter.

“I was young when I got them. Stupid,” Thenerius said, the bitterness in his voice melting into a soft sigh as you rubbed small circles around his shoulder blades.

Thenerius thankfully made no comment as you purposefully moved the cloth down his back, at first only to remove the dirt, but soon losing sight of your mission and working out the knots of his muscles, every so often splashing warm water up to rinse it. You loosened the tension in one area before moving on to the next, continuing long after all the dirt was washed away. He could not, however, hide the small sounds that escaped whenever you brushed against a particularly sensitive spot.

Your feel increasingly embarrassed with every hiss and grunt, but you continue on, guiltily enjoying every noise elicited by your hand, seeing just the back of his head leaving you only able to envision how he reacted - eyes screwed shut, lips falling open ever so slightly. Your imagination ran wild when your knuckles brushed against his side and he moaned.

It had been out of pain, the flesh bruised from goat horns, but your face burns and you swallow thickly nonetheless. You quickly finish, stopping right where his back meets the water and quickly turned to wring out the washcloth and drop it in the basin. Unable to meet Thenerius’ eyes just yet, you smell each bottle of oil, using your feigned deliberation as an excuse to keep your back to him.

Finally grabbing the first bottle after smelling each twice. It was citrusy, with the faintest hint of some herb, you think.

“Soak with this for a bit. It’ll help with the soreness,” you clear your throat, handing over the bottle. Thenerius had been falling asleep with your ministrations, but now snapped awake with the cold glass making contact with his palm.

“I shouldn’t- you still need to bathe and the water will be cold,” Thenerius begins to argue, rising from the water the slightest bit without realizing it, but you act quickly, pressing your hands down on his shoulders to keep him submerged.

“If you don’t, you won’t even be able to get up tomorrow,” the gentleness in your voice feels foreign, but it is sincere, “I know a lot about these things. Trust me, it can get a whole lot worse.”

Thenerius immediately relaxed under your touch, leaning his head back onto the rim of the tub and the points of his horns stopping on either side of your head, fortunately his eyes closed so he could not see you staring wide-eyed down at him. It took all your willpower to keep your palms rooted in their spot, your fingers itching to move lower. It would be a simple thing, to just… glide your hands down his chest, over his stomach - resting your chin on his shoulder - and wrapping a fist around his—

You are brought abruptly back into reality when Thenerius’ soft snores reach you, extracting your hands like a burn and quickly pouring the oil into the water. Once the bottle is empty, you quietly abscond.

It’s nearly half an hour before Thenerius finally exits, apologizing profusely. You had been pacing in the living room clutching your night clothes, avoiding every creaky floorboard with well-practiced coordination. As soon as he steps out of your way, you brush past the tiefling and shut the door.

The water is frigid, which you’re glad for, intent on freezing the molten heat that had grown in your core. You don’t know what’s come over you. Dangerous ideas consumed you the entire time you waited, impulses made all the more tempting with the knowledge that Thenerius wanted you; your mind twisted the memory of his confession into words of desire and his innocent noises into pleasured moans.

You scrubbed the dried sweat and grime off of you with just a little too much vigor, your attempt at grounding your beating heart. As soon as you’re finished, you pulled the plug and scrambled out the tub, quickly toweling off and getting dressed.

When you exit, Thenerius is seated on his cot, holding a steaming mug. You had been planning on going straight into the bedroom, but upon hearing the bathroom door open, your mother came from the kitchen, immediately seeing you and holding up a mug for you. Your stomach dropped. You had assumed she’d been asleep as she’d gone into the bedroom immediately after getting out the bath, and now wondered how long she’d actually been awake - if she had noticed the time you spent alone in the bathroom with Thenerius.

Out of habit, you take the mug, the smell of hot cocoa spiked with ale drifting lazily to your nose. You thought she would also drink with you. Instead, she walked straight past you towards the bedroom.

“You’re going to bed already?” Your voice is tight in panic at the thought of being left alone with Thenerius, the source of your temporary madness.

“I’m getting old,” she smiled, misinterpreting your question for concern for her health, her voice lowering to just above a whisper as she brought her lips close to your ear, “and I’m not one to stand in the way of young people’s affairs.”

Your gaze bores into the back of Thenerius’ head. Against your better judgement, you carry your mug to the cot, sitting on the very edge to keep your distance.

Blowing on your drink, you take small sips to avoid burning your tongue. Between the hot drink and the crackling fireplace in front of you, you almost forget your own awkwardness, the coziness only possible with the inhospitable winter outside lulling you into a sense of security.

“I was missing out on a lot with this drink,” Thenerius suddenly broke the silence, mirroring your own careful sips.

You temper your reaction, maintaining a smile you pray conveys a completely normal, neutral interest in the conversation, “You’ve never had hot cocoa before?”

“Never had a need. We usually stick to where it’s warm,” Thenerius said and your smile falters slightly at the implication, sobering slightly from your runaway thoughts.

“Why didn’t you leave with the others?”

The abrupt question hangs in the air between you, the pause stretching without Thenerius reacting to the point you wondered if you didn’t actually ask it.

Just as you are about to ask again, Thenerius spoke, slowly but not uncertainly, as though taking a moment to choose each word, an admission that took you entirely by surprise, “I was going to. After your rejection.”

“Why didn’t you?” You sound almost breathless, never before having considered the possibility that your extreme reaction to his proposal would have actually discouraged him. You have assumed that he had arrived with the goal of winning you over. You tried to think of some other possible motive, but you just drew blanks.

“I told you that your friend at the bar asked me to go to you,” he said, waiting until you nodded in acknowledgement before continuing, “At first, I thought she had seen- us. And I got… angry. I was embarrassed and it seemed like she was simply having fun. Then she told me she was worried about you, but that you refused her and everyone else’s offers help. I tried telling her I was the last person you wanted to see, much less accept help from, but she was persistent. Said you were just prickly around the edges, as it were.”

You grimace - a fair assessment, to be sure, but an unpleasant one to be so finely put a point on - but remain silent, digesting the new perspective. You feel dense, not having once considered Thenerius’ feelings about what had transpired between you. You also feel slightly disappointed that it was not his own passion that drove him to seek you out, though you know you have no right to feel hurt, now more than ever.

You down the rest of your cocoa, unsure if the heat or the ale is what burns down your throat, or your own disappointment. Already you could feel your face warm, the sweetness of the drink having hidden the strength of the alcohol.

“I’m sorry.” You’re unsure of what else to say, afraid to elaborate lest you drudge up every negative feeling over what happened.

He only nods, taking a sip from his drink and keeping his gaze fixed on the fire.

“I’ve always wanted to ask this,” blood was rushing through your ears as the ale settled heavily in your belly, making you just a bit bolder, “Why me? I mean—I know Paloma was leaving and she was the one to introduce us, but you seemed- I thought you were in love with her…”

You try to seem nonchalant as Thenerius chuckles, then deliberates, not sure your ego could take another blow tonight and also as if the question was a completely normal thing to ask platonically during a heart to heart with the man who proposed to you only four days ago. Tova have mercy. Had it really only been that long?

“I didn’t love her,” Thenerius finally put you out of your misery after a long stretch of silence, and you cursed the blooming hope in your chest, “She told me she was quitting. And why—she was in love. What was between us was not… it wasn’t the same. I didn’t know that at the time, I was just selfish, thought of her as mine even though I didn’t consider myself hers.”

You frown slightly, wanting desperately to pay attention to what Thenerius was sharing - obviously a very delicate and sensitive subject - but you can’t help the illogical wave of jealousy rising within you. He hadn’t known you then, only seeing for a few weeks out of the year after that. You shouldn’t have finished off your drink, too all over the place and unable to get a handle on your own emotions.

“I didn’t understand her then,” Thenerius continued, oblivious to your inner turmoil, “How she described the love she felt - to do things for someone else’s sake, rather than one’s own. And to forsake everything, be unwilling to trade anything for that love.”

It was evident Thenerius was no longer talking about Paloma, but of his own feelings for you. However, he had yet to answer your question and you’re unsure if you trust yourself to elaborate, opting instead to repeat it.

“So why me?”

“I’m not sure,” Thenerius admits sheepishly, “I began talking to you. It was the longest I ever talked to anyone that wasn’t on my crew—and about something that wasn’t about anything in particular. And I saw you interacting with others - the tavern owner, the other workers - when you thought no one was paying attention. You seemed so… carefree. Or just free. You didn’t have to worry about making it to the next port, or if you’d be paid. And when we moved on, I couldn’t think of anyone else, be with anyone else.”

You glance over at Thenerius, feeling incredibly warm, like the heat was rolling off your cheeks in waves. The alcohol had given you a buzz - not enough to be entirely gone, but enough to give you the excuse to throw caution to the wind as you observed Thenerius unabashedly.

His downturned eyes made his eyelashes brush against his cheeks, the strong slope of his nose casting an uneven shadow across his face where it veered slightly from an old break. But your eyes were most drawn to his lips - plump, slightly chapped after the hot shower and the corners tugged down into a frown that you wanted desperately to alleviate.

“What about now?” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, and Thenerius seems just as surprised by your question as you do. He doesn’t, however, seem to grasp your implication, if his self-deprecating snort was anything to go by, his next words making your momentarily-fragile heart break for him.

“I completely misunderstood your intentions. I told myself I saw no difference in how you interacted with me and your true friends. And I’m all the more the fool, because I know these things but it has done nothing to curb my useless pining.”

Your countless worries and responsibilities seemed to melt away in that moment, your rational mind telling you a thousand and one reasons not to do what you were about to do holding no power over you. You live in a place where it gets cold, you cannot go with him. But all you could see was Thenerius in front of you, present - a concept you could never before focus on. It was always thinking of the future; what needed to be done, paid for, taken or given.

In the present, you reach out your hand to Thenerius’ cheek furthest from you, turning his gaze from the fire to you. You lean forward, slotting your lips against his softly, but without hesitation.

part 5

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #reader insert #tiefling

79 notes · View notes

obx-adventures · 4 years

Text

The Introverted Twin

Summary - Being John B’s bookish twin isn’t easy. Especially with my best friend, Pope, being weird about me getting closer with JJ.

Flashbacks in italics

Warning: Mild smut at the end 😁

Catch up here: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

——

Chapter 5

When I get back to the Chateau, I run inside to find JJ. John B calls out for me but I ignore him. I’m on a mission and not even my brother can stop me. Once I determine JJ isn’t at my house, I jump back in the van and drive to the beach. I finally find him 30 minutes later sitting alone on a pier, lost in his own thoughts.

I give myself a pep talk and remember what Sarah told me. I walk over and sit beside him, nervously reaching out to take his hand.

“Hi JJ,” I start tentatively. “I’m sorry I ran from you earlier.”

“It’s ok, Y/N,” he mutters. It makes me anxious that he is using my real name. “It’s probably best that you left.”

“J, what’s wrong?” JJ’s eyes are red and tears are streaming down his face.

“John B and I got into it after you left. He called me out on some stuff and then told me to leave.”

“Was it about me?” I whisper, afraid that I’m the source of his pain.

He doesn’t answer but turns to look at me. I reach out to brush away his tears and he shudders at my touch. We get lost in each other’s eyes for a few minutes. His are filled with emotion but he looks so conflicted. I’m overcome with the desire to kiss him, but I can’t risk doing that until I know where he stands.

“JJ, you’ve known me for a long time,” I begin anxiously. “You know that I have a hard time expressing how I feel, especially when it’s something big. But it’s you so I’m going to take a leap of faith. Is that ok?”

“Sunshine, you can tell me anything.” JJ gently squeezes my hand to encourage me.

“I… umm, shit, ok… I… damnit, I don’t know why I can’t just say what I want to,” I exclaim, frustrated with myself.

“How about I go first? Give you some time to find the words?”

I can only nod in response, frozen in my own anxiety. He’s staring into my eyes and it’s the most intimate moment of my life. It feels like he’s boring into my soul and I’m worried he won’t like what he sees.

“I want you,” he confesses. “All of you. Your amazing brain, your beautiful heart, your gorgeous eyes. I want every part of you even though I know I shouldn’t. I know that you deserve so much more than I can give you. You are supposed to be the one to get out of here and I would be an anchor around your waist. I’ve been trying to push this down and let you go. But then you look at me like you are right now and it takes everything in me not to kiss you.”

His admission gives me the boost of confidence I need to act. Before I can think too much about it, I lean in and kiss him. His lips are salty from the ocean and his tears, but they are soft and gentle. Our lips move together slowly at first and I feel his hand reach up to cradle my cheek. His thumb brushes along my jaw while he runs his tongue along my lower lip. I open my mouth to give him access and he deepens the kiss as my hands reach up to run my fingers through his hair. When we break apart to catch our breath, I lean my forehead to his and sigh in contentment.

“JJ, I think I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

“But I’m not good enough for you, Sunshine,” he whines as he pulls back from me.

“I’m the only person who gets to decide who’s good enough for me. And you’re the person I want. You pull me out of shell and pay attention to the details of my life. You planned this amazing trip to the planetarium for us even though I haven’t talked about going in at least a year. You can tell when and why I get lost in my own head and help me come back to reality. You make me laugh more than anyone else. You have this vision of yourself as a fuck up who isn’t worthy of love. But that’s so wrong. You are so amazing.”

JJ stares at me in awe. I can see that he’s trying to process everything I just said so I give him a minute. Without warning, he stands up and drags me up with him. He continues holding my hand as he walks down the pier back to the beach. We walk in silence for a while and I begin to get anxious. Suddenly, he stops walking and moves to stand in front of me.

“Sunshine, John B basically banned me from dating you,” JJ tells me as he looks down to the sand.

“Wait, what?! That chauvinistic ass! He does not get to dictate my life.” John B has always tried to protect me but this is way out of bounds.

“Let me explain a little better... After you left the Chateau, I went inside to find out where you were going. John B said he wanted to talk to me.”

“Dude, what’s the deal with you and my sister?” John B can’t unsee the confused expression on Y/N’s face when he asked if something was going on between them.

“I like her, JB, a lot,” JJ admits. “But nothing has happened between us. Sometimes I think she likes me too but then she pulls back. I don’t know, man.”

“JJ, you can’t fuck around with Y/N,” John B knows JJ wouldn’t intentionally hurt his sister, but he also knows that JJ has never committed more than one night to a girl. “You know her, and you know how you are with girls. You can’t just mack on her and then disappear. That would kill her.”

“Bro, that is not what I want.” JJ run his hand through his hair, trying to contain his temper. He can’t believe his best friend thinks that he would do that. “She isn’t the type of girl that you just mack on.”

“What happens when it falls apart? You’re my best friend but it doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass when you hurt her.”

“Why do you think I’m going to hurt her? I’m not stupid. I know how special she is.”

“Right, she has a chance to get out of here,” John B responds quickly. He has always known that his sister’s destiny is outside the Outer Banks. “She’s crazy smart but once she commits to something, she doesn’t let it go. I don’t want her to get stuck here.”

“I don’t want to hold her back! I want more for her than this bullshit, scrimping and scraping all the time to make ends meet.”

“But she’ll stay” John B explains. “For you, she’ll stay, and she’ll never do all the shit she wants to.”

“I could go with her,” JJ pleads, unsure if he’s trying to convince his best friend or himself. “I could be part of that life.”

“JJ come on. You and I, we’re lifers here. You can’t drag her down to our level. Go think about it before you do anything stupid. I need to try to find my sister.”

I am shocked at my brother’s behavior. Shocked that he would say such hurtful things to his best friend. He knows the verbal abuse that JJ gets from his father. Why the hell would he add fuel to that fire?

“JJ, listen to me,” I tell him as I gently grab his cheeks. “Do you want to be with me? And I don’t want you to think about the reasons why you think you shouldn’t. Just a yes or no.”

“Yes, of course I do,” JJ replies earnestly. “But –”

“No buts, JJ. If you want to be with me and I want to be with you, that’s enough. The rest of the shit will get figured out.”

“What about JB and Pope?”

“I’ll deal with them. John B was right about one thing, though. Once I’m in, I’m all in. Before I fully commit, I need to know that you aren’t going to bail. Are you in this for real?”

JJ pulls me in for a passionate kiss. He’s holding my face gently with both hands and claiming me as his own. He tilts my face slightly to gain deeper access as he slowly slides one hand down to my neck and the other down to my lower back to pull me closer. With my whole body pressed against his and his tongue exploring my mouth, every part of me feels like it’s on fire. I place my hands against his chest and roam over his rippling muscles, trying to memorize every dip and curve. He slowly pulls back and returns both of his hands to my face.

“I am in, 100%. Let’s go back to my place to figure all of this out. My dad is out on a fishing trip so we don’t need to worry about him.”

“JJ, we can go to the Chateau,” I tell him, thinking he’s anxious about seeing my brother again. “I told you I’ll deal with John B.”

“Sunshine, can we just have some time together before we bring our whole world into this?” The idea of alone time with JJ sends a shiver through my body. It feels like we are in our own delicate bubble and I realize that I’m not ready for that bubble to pop yet either.

I nod at him and he pulls me along to the van. I don’t want to leave John B stranded at home, so he follows behind me on his bike back to the Chateau. I hastily write a note telling my brother that I’m ok and I’ll be back in the morning. I leave the keys and note on the driver’s seat and run over to JJ. I’m a little nervous about riding on his bike but don’t hesitate to climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his torso.

When we get to his house, JJ leads me by the hand to his room. Even though he knows his father isn’t home, he locks his bedroom door as a precaution. I haven’t been in JJ’s room since we were kids and I take a moment to explore the one space in the world that is completely his own.

I’m surprised to find so much of his personality in the room since he spends so much time at my house. He has a wall completely dedicated to the Pogues, covered in pictures and mementos of all of our adventures. I stop exploring when I see a piece of art that I don’t recognize. It’s a pencil drawing of me hunched over studying. I’m in profile, so he must have been sitting on the couch while I was studying at the table. My hair is thrown up into a messy bun, held in place by two pens. I’m wearing one of my dad’s old sweatshirts and have a pencil resting on my temple while I chew on my bottom lip.

“I didn’t know that you draw,” I say quietly as I continue to take in all the details of the picture.

“Only when I’m inspired. You were studying for the SATs the first time you took them. I think you sat in that position for 6 hours. I’m pretty sure you didn’t even know I was there. You were so focused and intent, I couldn’t help watching you and sketching. That was when I realized I have feelings for you.”

I turn to JJ and study his face. He looks vulnerable, something I’m not used to with him. I walk over and pull him into another kiss. This kiss feels different than the others we’ve shared today. JJ slowly walks me backwards until my legs bump into his bed. He guides me down to the pillow and settles next to me with one arm tucked under my neck. I turn so I can look at him and our noses are inches apart.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he whispers as his hand slowly glides down my cheek to feel along my neck. He traces his fingers along the exposed skin on my chest and I rest my hand on his waist, feeling his muscles contract as he breath shallowly. I move my hand slightly to get under his shirt and touch his soft skin. I smile when I feel goosebumps form. He follows my lead and trails his hand down my side, and I can’t help the small gasp that escapes as he brushes along the side of my breast. His hand continues down to the hem of my shirt and I sigh when his warm fingers touch my bare skin.

I lean towards his face and press delicate kisses along his cheek bones and down his jawline. I’ve never kissed someone like this, so I rely on instinct and JJ’s reactions as a guide. My mouth travels down to his neck and I slowly work my way up behind his ear. I lick along his ear lobe and he hums in response. I nibble gently along his ear and feel his hand tighten on my waist. I give him deep kisses down the side of his neck and then leave feather light kisses as I move back up to meet his mouth.

When our mouths connect, it’s like an explosion. His tongue slowly runs along my lower lip and then he catches it with his teeth. I moan as he tugs my lip slightly and I move my hand up his back. He swipes his tongue into my mouth and kisses me hungrily. I dig my fingers into his back, and he smiles against my mouth. He kisses along my cheek and then moves to the spot behind my ear. I shiver at the contact and scrape my nails down his back. He pulls me closer to him as his hand roams up my side, under my shirt. He hesitates before touching my breasts until I nod in consent. He then firmly cups my breast in his large hands and trails his finger under the top of my bra to brush against my nipple.

I throw my leg over his hip and use the momentum to flip him on his back with me straddling his lap. His hands automatically rest on my waist and his eyes are filled with lust. I grab the bottom hem of my shirt and pull it off in one smooth motion. I watch JJ take in my lace bra as his hands roam up to touch me. I lean forward and meet his mouth again as his hands explore my body. I feel his erection under my core, and I rock slightly against him, eliciting a moan.

He rolls us over and trails kisses down my neck and makes his way to my breast. He sucks my skin on the top of breast while his fingers tease my other nipple through the lace. I groan and arch my back to give him more access. He roughly pulls down the lace to swirl his tongue around my nipple while he continues to the tease the other. I drag my fingernails up the bare skin on his sides and feel him shiver. I move my hand along his waist band and hook my fingers into the top of his shorts to pull him closer.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says as he pulls away.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask timidly.

“Fuck no, Sunshine... we just need to call timeout.” I’ve never heard JJ sound so unsteady.

“You don’t want to keep going?” I can’t hide the insecurity in my voice.

“No, I definitely do.” He rubs my cheek tenderly with his thumb. “But I don’t want to rush into this. I want this to be different. I want your first time, our first time, to be special.”

“JJ, everything I do with you is already special,” I insist as I cup his face. “It’s not the circumstances that make something special, it’s the person that you do it with.”

“I know, I just want to do this right, is that ok?” I can tell from his voice and the way he’s looking at me that he’s as new to this as I am. He may not be a virgin, but this is still a totally novel situation for him.

“Of course, J” I cuddle into him and enjoy the feeling of his strong arms around me.

“Can I take you on a date tomorrow, Sunshine?” He traces his fingers over my still exposed skin while he awaits my answer.

“I would love that, J. I just need to go home first for a bit.”

“You going to talk to John B?”

“Yes, my brother and I will be having a firm conversation about his role in my life.”

“I don’t want to get between - ” I stop JJ with a kiss.

“Stop, don’t worry about me and John B,” I insist. “We’ll be fine. And you two will be fine.”

“What about Pope?”

“I’m not sure... The last thing I want to do is hurt him even more. He’s my best friend but I can’t make myself feel something that isn’t there.”

“He’s one of my best friends, too.” I hear the guilt in his voice. “But Pope is a good guy, he would want us to be happy, right?”

“I hope so. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow too.”

We spend the rest of the evening talking and cuddling. I feel safe in JJ’s arms and fall asleep listening to his steady heartbeat as he combs through my hair with his nimble fingers.

Ch 6

Taglist: @agirlwholovescoffee @obxlife @meaganjm @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @velyssaraptor @lunaposey @http-cherries @prejudic3 @love-youu-softly @rudyismymanperiod @justcallmesams @celestialmaybank @yasminesameh @chaoticbisous @liloddcora

207 notes · View notes