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rreids · 1 month

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BE GOOD TO ME • A. HOTCHNER X READER

__ used in place of reader's name; age gap (both legal, unspecified, hotch implied to have worked with the reader's father); fem!reader; alcohol consumption; fluff; angst (i'm v bad at it, apologies); fears of abandonment; hotch is a bit insensitive at times; no jack or haley (assumed they have the same issues with his work & broke up pre-fic); sexual tension; has a nsfw section, skip from: (“Okay, they’re shut,” -> "I'll stay." if you are a minor or don't like smut; ~5k words; a poorly written ending, honestly; an (early!!!) birthday present for @hotchfiles (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) smut warnings: dom!hotch (nothing intense), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (do not copy them <3), oral (m receiving).

Moving was always a hassle.

Stressful, tiring, made tensions high — the works. It took the better part of your first day in Quantico to move in, and you could only settle onto your new couch (courtesy of your father, who’d worked in Narcotics at the FBI early on in his career, and was more than excited to find out that you wanted to move there) when the sun was thirty minutes from setting.

“Yes, yeah, Dad, I’m fine. I only had thirty more minutes of unpacking when you were leaving,” you click on speaker phone and lean your head back, sighing as you try to work a cord in your neck. “I’ll say hi to my neighbors tomorrow. Yes. Yes, I’m going to eat. The food you gave me to put in the fridge. I have my first day at the café tomorrow, I’ll get groceries then.”

He rambles for a bit and you close your eyes, letting him talk and talk. It’s nice. You know he worries.

“Ok, Dad, I got it. I’ll contact Gideon if anything comes up, and I’ll ask around for his team or wife — girlfriend? — if he’s busy. I love you, but I’m gonna go get ready for bed. Okay? Yeah. Thank you. Bye-bye,”

He hangs up first, knowing you hate to be the one to click it.

You sigh and stretch, tossing the phone down on the cushion. By the time you gain the energy to stand and go to the fridge, there’s a ring of your doorbell.

You’re not expecting anyone, so you approach cautiously, peering through the peephole. It’s a man, older, but you can’t place by how much, standing with his hands in his pockets.

You crack the door, keeping the secondary lock in place. “Hello?”

“Good evening,” his voice has a nice husk to it. “Sorry, I should introduce myself. My name’s Aaron, I’m your neighbor. Wanted to ask if there’s any groceries or anything I could bring you, something to help you get settled or maybe you forgot to pack for the move…?”

You eye him warily.

“I was going to make cookies but I can’t bake.”

You chuckle. “Um, I think I’m okay. Are you handy, by any chance?”

“A little. I can do stuff around the house.”

“Then,” you pause, looking at his eyes. “Is there a chance I can get your number? You know, so if there’s any issue I can call you to come round and take a look,”

“Sure,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’m a little busy sometimes, though, so it might take me a few days to get around to stopping by.”

You nod and quickly undo the inner latch and open the door more fully. “That’s alright, I don’t expect you to drop your life because I can’t fix a leaking faucet. Can you wait here while I grab my phone?”

He nods, looking respectfully at only the foyer and not further into your new home, carefully avoiding focusing on the stacks of boxes you haven’t gotten to unpacking (full of knick-knacks and unimportant things that you decided could wait to be put on display).

It doesn’t take long to save each other’s contacts, and while there’s no more excuse for him to be on your stoop, you want to talk to him more. “Do you have anyone to eat dinner with?”

Subtle, your inner voice snarks back.

“No,” he smiles sadly, bitterness to it. “Just me.”

“Well, it’s just lasagna to reheat, but if you’d prefer to not eat alone…”

“I’d love that…?”

“__,” you smile. “Come on in, Aaron. I’ll get you a plate.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

Work goes well, getting adjusted is easy.

You make friends with your coworkers and a few regulars, go out a few times and find a group of girls you mesh with.

Then again, you were a pretty sociable person, always trying to smile and improve people’s days. It was partially why you didn’t absolutely hate service work. There was a silver lining to every interaction.

Aaron was nice, too.

You’d had an issue with water pressure when you finally (after much longer than you’d like to admit) got your new shower head attached, and he’d come over and let his dress shirt get soaked while he fixed it for you.

Whenever you ask about work, he dances around anything more than telling you “FBI” and that he “travels a lot”, but you didn’t mind too much. Everyone has their secrets, and you knew your dad had seen some terrible things.

You can only imagine what Aaron has seen.

He was good company, had a dry and witty humor that you never expected, kind eyes and a gentle smile you were lucky to see despite his tiredness, and, well, he was handsome.

You weren’t against eye candy, even if you didn’t know much personally about him. It took a week to learn how old he was, and a few days while was gone for work for you to reconcile that he was old enough to have worked with your father when he was at Narcotics.

It’s been two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he calls, voice exhausted and rough, raw, even, from what seems to have been an emotional case.

“Aaron?”

He hums, sighs on the other side of the line.

“Everything okay?”

“Just tired,” he doesn’t explain more. “Can you keep talking?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” you can’t help the way your brow furrows in concern about how worn-out he sounds. “Well, I can tell you about my job. I’m not nearly as secretive, Mr. FBI,” you tease, and he exhales — a softer, happier one.

And so you do, rambling about different coffees, trying desperately to coax him into trying a latte (he refuses every single time you try to tell him he’d like one, but assures you there’s someone on his team who has equal amounts of sugar and coffee in his — you’re sure he’s exaggerating, the sugar would be too much for almost anyone — who would love to try your drink combos); telling him about regulars and new customers, the music that played, if there’s a song you know he’d like; really, anything you can think of.

“When do you get back?”

“We’ve landed, I’m back.” There’s more shuffling than there had been on his end, papers sliding and the crackling connection as he moves the phone before bringing it back to his ear. “Just finishing some paperwork.”

“Is it stuff that can’t be seen?”

“No. It’s not confidential.”

“Do you want to do it at your house, then? Or visiting my place. I made pasta and steak, I can heat some back up for you. I’m sure you haven’t been eating well when you’re chasing down bad guys, or… whatever you do when you’re gone, I’m not sure exactly.”

Aaron chuckles. “Thanks, __. Give me thirty minutes?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

He hesitates.

“No. No, it’s okay. I’ll see you in a little while.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

He takes closer to forty-five minutes, but you expected something to take a bit longer than he said. And it’s not a bother. Really, it was welcome because it let you run out to the store and buy a nice wine (you hoped he likes red), and reheat the food better than just by the microwave.

When he knocks, you try not to scurry over too quickly and to temper your smile. “Come in,”

Aaron smiles tiredly at you, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He hangs up his suit jacket and loosens his tie slightly.

He looks at the table and his brows raise. “Wine?”

“I figured you could use something to unwind,”

“Sounds lovely.”

You can’t tell if he actually means that, or if he just doesn’t like red, doesn’t want wine, or what, and is being polite but you don’t push it.

“Are you going to eat, too?”

“I already did,” you smile at him. “I was going to do dishes so I don’t leave them in the sink overnight — I try to never do that. But it can wait if you’d rather have company.”

He moves his napkin. “Well, I’d be able to hear you from the kitchen. More efficient,”

“Got it,”

You hum to yourself in the lulls of conversation with him, scrubbing a plate clean. He eats quickly, when you’re not across from him, and you find this out when he comes in with his dishes.

“Let me wash them. My mess,”

“You’re a guest,” you protest, but you don’t do much to dissuade him, watching the way he rolls up his sleeves and his forearms flex with a lazy smile as he scrubs off the alfredo sauce. “At least leave your glass. We can drink and talk for a bit.”

He raises his brows but nods, pushing it to the side.

“Do you want to talk about work?” You ask him as you fill one for you and then top off his. “Or would you prefer anything else.”

“I’ve been talking about dead bodies and abductions for two weeks. I’d like something more normal,” Aaron answers smoothly before pausing, placing his plate in your dishrack. “I’ve never told you that I deal with that, have I?”

“No,” you hand him his wine and guide him to your couch. “But I can make a guess why you haven’t,”

“I’m sure you can.”

“My father, he was in Narcotics, actually.” You look for a flash of recognition in his eyes, but without saying your father’s name there is none. “Maybe he worked with you at some point. But he would always come home tense and it strained my parent’s relationship… I get it.”

Aaron swallows. You guess relationships are a sore spot.

“Wanna hear about the last time I went out?” You couldn’t think about a better topic, and grimace when he sighs and sinks back into the cushions. “Nothing gross,”

“Hit me.”

You tell him, excited, bubbly, and pause about two-thirds into recounting the drinking games and how you could barely walk by the end of it. Namely, because you want to leave out the fact you almost drunk-dialed him (and that you were super wasted in public, considering he’s a federal agent), and second, because you realize you could show him the dress you were wearing that night.

Maybe the wine is getting to you a little, but you buzz with excitement at the idea of him eyeing you up and down.

“Actually, I wanna show you something!” Your voice is too excited and you know it when he gives you a questioning look. “Wait here.”

You stumble a little changing out of your clothes and quickly zip yourself into the dress, clasp the same necklace back on. Your hair isn’t done the same, your makeup is your day makeup and not what you wear out, but you still look pretty.

Maybe a little less slutty than you did that night, but the way the dress clings to your curves would make up for it. Hopefully.

“Close your eyes!” You call out to him.

“What?” Aaron calls back, and you hear an exaggerated groan when you don’t reply. “Okay, they’re shut,”

You saunter out and lightly grab his wrist — he’s holding his hands to cover his sight completely, and your heart flutters at the boyishness — and tug them away. “What do you think?”

Aaron opens his eyes almost directly to your cleavage as you straighten up, and he snaps his attention to your face. That doesn’t last long as you spin and twirl, letting the light catch the glittery details.

He’s moved his eyes to your hips and how much of your thighs are exposed.

He clears his throat. “You wore this out when you were that drunk?”

“Don’t worry,” you smile. “I was safe!”

“You were telling me you could barely walk,”

You pout at him. “You’re so serious, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

A beat of silence.

Another.

“Twirl for me again?”

You beam at him and obey, squeaking when he pauses you once you face away.

“It’s not fully zipped,” he lets his fingers trace above the zipper as he stands, and you feel him pressing closer to you — tall, imposing, strong. Warmth radiating off his skin. “Can I?”

You debate what to say.

“Actually,” you breathe in deeply, trying to keep your voice level. “I think I cinched the waist too tight at the clasps. Can you loosen them?”

Aaron’s breath ghosts over the nape of your neck, and he says nothing as he slowly unzips it, fingers sparking desire and tensing the muscles as his fingers trail down your spine after the zipper.

“Right here?” He asks, tugging at the cinch to make his point clear.

You smile and let the straps slip from your shoulders in a fake stretch. His breath hitches.

“A little lower,”

Aaron listens, entranced, undoing more and more until his fingers ghost right above your panties — a thong, maroon-y red.

You imagine he’s shut his eyes now, trying to respect you despite the way you’re clearly trying to get into his pants.

And so, you act.

You reach back and grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him a little closer to the crook of your neck.

“__,” he whispers.

“Aaron,” you match the soft desire thrumming under the words. “Please.”

You know he’ll snap when you arch your back, pressing back into his hardening bulge and pushing your chest out — right into his line of sight.

He kisses the skin of your neck gently, sucking on it harshly before running his tongue over the stinging sensation. He guides the dress down you fully, strong hands squeezing the fat on your thighs with a groan before slipping up and around your waist to cup your breasts.

“You’re beautiful,”

“Please don’t waste time on easing into it,” you grit out, aching for him. “I want you. Badly.”

“Shh,” he soothes, unclasping your necklace and placing it on the small stand by your couch, kissing where the cold metal had sat. “You’ll get me,”

You whimper out in surprise as he spins you and crashes his lips into yours forcefully, pressing you into him so your nipples brush against his ironed and perfect dress shirt, a perfect, aching friction.

A confident hand goes to your thong and snaps the waistband against your hip as you press further into him, blindly pawing at his pants.

“Walk me to your bedroom,” he tells you when he pulls back for air, and you stumble into the wall twice, too wrapped up in his kisses and heat to move with grace.

He lays you down, but before he can pull back and stand, you pull him next to you.

“Let me,” you say, tugging his tie loose and nimbly undoing his buttons with only a slight tremor to your hands. The button-up falls open to beautiful strength and skin, dotted with freckles and rippling with strength as he shrugs the fabric off and flings it to the floor.

When you start on his belt, his eyes bore into you and you shrink under the gaze once you tug it loose.

“Sit back,” he nods towards the headboard. “Now.”

You swallow and scramble to move where he wants. He strips down to his boxers and shifts to move over you, bracing on his knees and a forearm. He pecks your lips with a smile before deepening the kiss.

He leaves you gasping for air by the time he moves to lick over your nipples as his calloused fingers find their way into your panties. You quiver at the roughness on your clit, the way the fabric of the thong slips against you with his movements.

He pulls off you, and your eyes hungrily drink in his deep breaths and the filthy sight of his fingers moving in your underwear, back arching as he slips one finger into you and continues to roll your clit with his thumb.

“More?” He asks when your hips grind down to meet him.

“Want it,” you gasp out, squeezing him over his boxers. The precum that’s leaked through makes you keen with need. “‘M ready.”

“I’d rather you not get hurt,” he pushes in another finger. “So be patient.”

You huff, fucking up against his hand.

He pulls back and pins you with that same hand, smearing your arousal over your hip. “You can’t wait?”

“Maybe I like it with a little pain.”

He raises a brow at that and sighs, but he lets go of you to pull down and kick off his boxers.

Your mouth dries at the sight of his cock, and you ache, so desperately empty. You grab at his shoulders, broad and strong, and he can’t help the twitch of a smile as he rubs himself against you and you squirm.

You kiss him as you hook your leg around him and drag him into you, delighting in the gasp of pleasure he lets out against your lips. His jaw sets, teeth grinding as he sets a torturously slow pace, letting you feel the drag of every vein and inch against your velvety walls.

You dig your nails into his back and scratch, and his hips stutter before finally speeding up. It’s still not enough, but finally forceful enough to draw sounds from your lips.

“You like a little pain too,” you laugh breathlessly, trying to leave a bite on his neck. He cranes back and out of reach, folding your legs up to drive deeper.

“I can take it. Can you?” Aaron asks, no expectation of an answer as he finally sets a pace that drives you to near silent gasps and shaking muscles.

You whimper, digging your nails in more harshly to feel the way his shoulders flex as he moves one of his hands to rub your clit. His skin and his movements are rough and aggressive, punching moans out of you without care, sitting your nerves on fire.

He doesn’t relent, leaving wet kisses along your sweat slick skin as he fucks into you so hard you quiver in his hold, small and weak and helpless under him.

You moan at the idea, arching up into him as he scrapes his teeth over your left breast.

“More,” you beg breathlessly. “I can take it all,”

His brow furrows in delicious determination over darkened, blown-out eyes, lips tightening to hold in his gruff moans as he drags you closer to your ecstasy.

“Yeah?” He asks, bringing a hand to squeeze your cheeks together. “Want it all?”

You nod eagerly, urge him down for another kiss, and you clench when he sucks on your tongue before pulling back and completely away.

“Hands and knees.”

You flip hurriedly, trying to hide the way your muscles shake from the effort. He catches it, though, wraps an arm under and around your waist to help support you as he drapes himself over your back and slides back in.

It’s almost claustrophobic, so warm and close to him, skin slick with sweat, heavy breaths coming out in humid pants, wet presses of his lips and tongue to your shoulders and the nape of your neck; but you love it, whining and keening as he angles his hips just right and rubs your clit again.

You’re so, so, so close to the edge, you can almost taste it.

“Let go,” he orders, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own sounds.

And you do, quivering around him, pussy desperately trying to keep him in place as he fucks you through it.

He hisses, and you whine at the empty feeling, rolling over to see him leaning back and jerking himself off, head tossed back and veins popping out.

You crawl over and grin up at him “fuck my mouth” before taking him in, and he hisses, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Shit, __,” he groans, and you realize it’s the first time he’s said your name or lost composure during this. You hum in response and bob your head further down before hollowing your cheeks.

His hips jerk, but before he can apologize for the movement, you moan around him and press lower.

Aaron groans, deep and broken with need, and it only takes a few more seconds for him to cum, thighs twitching under your palms.

He tugs you off and kisses you after you swallow, tasting himself on your tongue.

“Let me clean you up,” he whispers after a few moments, observing how you’re still shaking from the aftershocks.

He leaves and comes back with a washcloth, wiping you clean and apologizing softly when you wince from oversensitivity.

Aaron even helps you get dressed (finds pajamas in a drawer for you and hands them to you) and makes sure you pee and brush your teeth.

When he starts gathering his things, you grab him. “Stay.”

He pauses and sighs, shirt bundled in his hand. He slips back into his boxers and slides under the duvet next to you.

“I’ll stay.”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

When you wake up, Aaron is gone.

No note. No voicemail.

It stings. He’d even cleaned up the wine glasses and brought your necklace onto your nightstand.

When you stand, it aches, muscles exhausted. You shower slowly and pensively, chewing on your lip as you consider calling him.

You don’t.

You fix yourself coffee, eat some fruit and pancakes, and get ready for work. It’d be a long day standing and delivering orders with the way your muscles burned, but maybe it’d distract you.

You don’t even hear from him again for a week, and part of you is mad at him, but most of you is scared — you’d figured out that he deals with homicides and abductions that night, and there was a worry that took root and grew that he could be dead, and you wouldn’t know.

When you hear from him, it’s one a.m. on a Friday (Saturday, you suppose, since it’s past night).

“Hello?” You ask groggily, not having checked the caller I.D.

“__,” Aaron sighs out. He sounds relieved.

You tense. “Aaron.”

There’s awkward silence.

“Why are you calling?”

“I hadn’t heard from you all week,” he tells you, and your heart twists in your chest.

Who did he think he was, to sleep with you, leave without warning, and call like nothing happened?

“I wonder why,” you snap, voice bitter and biting.

Aaron sighs and shuffles.

More uncomfortable silence.

“Where did you go?”

“Home. I had to get dressed for work.”

You hope none of his team is around. You’re already upset enough just talking to him, and that’s without a team of whatever-the-fuck he does FBI agents listening in.

“No message?”

“Should I have left one?” Aaron sighs, and you can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not dating, __.”

“Yeah. I can tell.” You scoff. “Then why do you care that I didn't call you?”

“I like your company, you know that.”

“You do a hell of a job making it clear.”

Eyes burning with tears you’re holding back, you finally ask.

“What do you want, Aaron?”

“To talk.”

“No,” you grouse, wiping the tear that rolls down your cheek.

“__, please, come on.”

“Come on?” You repeat, incredulous. “Aaron, I like you. You used me for sex and left. I’m fucking pissed at you,”

“You’re too young for me.” Aaron sighs. “I’m always at work. It’s dangerous work, too. You could have any guy,”

“Yeah. A shame I want you. And my age didn’t seem to matter last week. If you don’t want to date me, just say it!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That I want to see you.”

“No. Please… stop calling me,”

You hope he doesn’t hear the choked sob that leaves your lips as you hang up.

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

You ignore him for two weeks pretty well, pretending to be gone or asleep every time he rings the doorbell, tossing out his sad attempts at cookies (even if you feel like crying knowing he can’t make cookies or bake for shit and is doing it just for you), letting the flowers he placed die on your stoop.

The first time you hear about him again — he hadn’t left messages in a few days — is actually at work.

A younger man, about your age, boyishly cute and nothing like who you wanted, comes in and smiles at you.

“Hey, do you have any like… special drinks?” He’s stuttering. “My friend—boss?— recommended this place, said you had lattes I might like.”

The gears turn a little.

(There’s someone on my team who would drink it.

I want you to try it, Aaron.

I don’t do sugar in my coffee, __. But he does, I swear it’s more sugar than coffee sometimes. I’ll let him know the name of your café.

Should I be expecting him?

Yeah, maybe. His name’s Spencer. He’s a good kid.)

“Boss?”

“Yeah! We work together, but we’re also friends, but he could fire me, so I never know how to introduce him.”

You giggle slightly. “Um, well, we have a seasonal drink.”

You rattle off the options and ingredients, and when he finally decides on his order, he blinks at you a few times.

“You know, your name is familiar. __.” He’s trying to place it.

With a smile, you glance at him. “What’d you say yours was? For the order.”

“Spencer.”

Bingo.

You write it on the cup and look to see if there’s a line. There isn’t. You hand the cup to the other barista working with the order ticket.

“Where’d you say you worked, Spencer?”

“I didn’t. But I work at the FBI in the BAU—that’s the behavioral analysis unit. We do something called profiling to catch unsubs, unknown subjects, who commit a variety of different crimes.”

You nod.

Profiler.

You’d think someone who knows the human condition and behavior so well would know not to leave a girl without a goodbye when you slept together the night before.

“Your boss, his name Aaron?”

“Hotch.” Spencer supplies automatically before his ears catch up. “Wait, yeah. Aaron Hotchner. You know him?”

You smile tightly, not sure what he’s shared with his team. With the BAU. “We’re neighbors.”

Spencer grins. “You should come in and surprise him! He’s been bothered by something lately, but he won’t tell any of us why. Maybe he’ll tell you.”

You tense. “You all sound like a nosy bunch, Spencer,” you hope your voice comes across light and playful enough. You thank your coworker for his coffee and say “I’m also on shift. Here’s your coffee. Have a good day.”

He smiles and says “you too!” and turns around. He almost bumps into someone immediately and you hear a rush of apologies as he looks at his watch and hurries out of the café.

You sigh.

All day, what Spencer said runs through your mind. Had he really been struggling? He had to be, assuming Spencer didn’t know you… and if Aaron is as private as you think he is, Spencer definitely doesn’t know you.

When you get home, Aaron is waiting on your doorstep, and it takes everything in you to not turn around and get right back in your car, drive somewhere for dinner.

“__,” his voice is pleading, broken and soft.

“Aaron, please,” you sigh. “I’m tired of the excuses.”

“I know. I know. Let’s talk. Actually.”

You huff.

“... I’ll talk. You listen. I’m the one who has apologizing to do,”

“First right thing you’ve said in a while,” you mumble bitterly, brushing past him to unlock your door. “Come on.”

He follows you slowly, and one glance at his face fills you with guilt. He looks like a kicked puppy.

Damn him and his pretty brown eyes.

You settle on the couch with wine. “Go on,”

Aaron swallows. “I… got a call. A work call. At three. After we slept together, I needed to run to grab all my things, get new clothes…

It was a brutal case. The… the guy — we caught him — was killing girls who looked like you. And, selfishly, I thought, maybe if I just ignored you I wouldn’t be worried. And that you’d be okay, that it didn’t matter to you like it mattered to me.

But I kept seeing him kill you in my nightmares, and I knew I needed to focus on work before he killed another innocent woman. That if I called you, I’d break down and be a burden on the team and the case.

And I know that’s not good enough, I should’ve left a message or called anyway.

I do like you. And your age is part of me not calling, I just don’t know if it’s right. For me to want you.”

He pauses and stares into your eyes before looking to the ground. “I don’t care if it’s right anymore. I do want you. When I close my eyes before bed, I see your smile, I think of you, and I just,” he digs his nails into his thighs, exhales heavily. “I want you so fucking bad,”

You swallow. “Care to show me?”

“Not tonight.” Aaron sighs. “I don’t want… I don’t want it to seem like I just want your body.”

“Even if I say it’s okay?”

“Even then,” he leans over and kisses you.

Sweetly. Romantic, even.

“Let me make it up to you. What do you say about dinner tomorrow?” He rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Let me show you that I want you,”

“Sounds good, Hotchner.”

His brows shoot up. “How do you know my last name?”

“Well, I met this guy,” you say teasingly. “His name’s Spencer. Ring a bell?”

Aaron curses. “Did he say anything?”

“Just that you seemed down. He didn’t know anything, I just said you were my neighbor. Why, did you miss me? That why you were so miserable?”

“Yeah.” It’s the most confident he’s sounded all night. “Going forward…” he pauses. “Just slap me if I’m being an ass. I thought I was going crazy not being able to see you.”

#my works #mdni #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst

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papercorgiworld · 1 month

Text

Whipped for their tutor II: A Reward

Mattheo, Theo and Enzo

Tutoring the Slytherin boys isn’t easy, so you use the fact that they’re absolutely whipped as a way to motivate them.

Find part one here, but you don’t have to read it. There’s not that much plot.

Warning: suggestive and a little bit of smut

This took longer than necessary just because it took me a week to come up with something for Enzo. Also, little announcement, I'm gonna mix requests instead of work chronological because I'm struggling with inspiration and I wanna write things I can instead of stay stuck on the things I can't, because I'm short on time atm, but I should get to all of them eventually. Happy readings! Have a lovely weekend!

“Mate, quidditch practice, remember?” Blaise’s face appears by the door as he looks at his friend.

Mattheo

He looks up from his book and nods at Blaise. “Right, I gotta go.” Mattheo says, turning to face you as he slams his book shut.

“Your work isn’t finished yet.” You state and meet his eyes, a small smile tugging on your lips as you play to win this situation. Mattheo looks at Blaise and back to you, he smiles at your silly comment, quidditch was way more important than studying. “I can’t miss quidditch training.” Mattheo argues.

You pout and your teasing eyes lock with his. Blaise notices Mattheo’s face going red, but what Blaise doesn’t know is that it’s because your hand is resting on Mattheo’s crotch. Softly your hand moves and you feel his member twitch. Such a sensitive boy. “On second thought,” Mattheo’s voice comes out almost squeaky and he forces a cough to regain compose “I’m not allowed to play the game if I don’t pass tomorrow’s test so I better study.”

Blaise knows better than to ask questions and simply nods before leaving. “Such a good student.” The words drip off your lips as Mattheo’s eyes land on your lips. “If you put in a few more hours of studying then you’ll nail tomorrow’s test. And Matty, if you get an A I’ll give you a little reward.” Your words are a seductive whisper and you know you’re doing it right when you feel Mattheo get harder. Your hand moves over the bulge in his pants and like the good student Mattheo is, his eyes fall from you to the pages of his summary.

You notice his blush and his hard swallow. He was trying his best to focus, but struggling with hardness in his pants and your hand. Seeing him like this, you couldn’t deny it, it turned you on a little as well. He was so fun to play with. “Maybe it’s best I let you study alone for today.” You whisper close to his ear and his puppy eyes meet yours. He doesn’t want you to leave. “I feel you’re … a little distracted.” You say lips almost brush his ear as your hand strokes him member one last time before moving away. “Good luck.” You say and you kiss his cheek, staining his face with your lipstick. Maybe she didn’t notice… Mattheo stares down at his crotch. Who am I kidding! Why am I so sensitive to her? Salazar, she drives me crazy!

***

Mattheo was really excited when the professor returned his test a few days later. When he spotted you talking to your friend in the hallway that same day he wanted to offer you his test but worried he would look like a fool he decided against it, cursing himself for being so needy for you. He needed your praise, he thought about it almost every night, but his ego kept him from begging for it.

So he eagerly waited for the next tutoring session and his eagerness was obvious to you since he was early. You walk into the classroom and are surprised to find Mattheo seated with his books out on the table. When he sees you walk in he gets up and smiles at you and you can’t help but smile at how whipped he is. “I got an A.” He blurs out before you even get the chance to sit down. You lick your lips and Mattheo feels his face heat up. Salazar, I sound desperate. I can’t even think with her around. You take a step closer to him and you lean suggestively close. Mattheo tries to meet your lips but you teasingly avoid the kiss. You chuckle softly, making him flustered, moving to whisper in his ear. “What did you think your reward would be?”

Mattheo swallows and his eyes lock with yours. “You.” He breathes, not hiding his desire for you. While waiting for you in this classroom filled with sexual tension Mattheo’s mind and body had gone wild with anticipation for what his reward could be. Every possible fantasy of the past weeks had shot through his mind as he had waited for you, for his reward. “You think that you can have me because you had one good test?” You raise an eyebrow. “An A+.” He specifies and he immediately feels embarrassed by how pathetic he must sound, trying to impress you with his grades. However, he manages to snap out of his embarrassment and regains some of his composure. With a slight teasing tone to his voice he speaks up. “You said I would get a reward.” He does his best to sound confident and you’re almost impressed by how good he sells it.

Your hand moves over his chest and lower, pressing your chest against his. “Well, as a reward you don’t have to pretend like you’re not rock hard, you can take care of yourself.” He’s baffled. His mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. “Sit.” You command and he does so without thinking. You sit down as well and slowly unbuckle his belt, knowing that you’ll find his cock hard once again. “Now, there, treat yourself.” You say almost mocking him. His eyes stay focused on yours as his hand slowly and hesitantly moves towards his member. Your eyes meet his and you feel yourself drawn to his pretty eyes. You lean in and Mattheo’s eyes fall to your lips as his hand slowly strokes his dick. He was so turned on by you, but he barely dared to make a move, afraid that you would reject him if he didn’t play it right.

Almost brushing his lips you halt and let your eyes fall down to his hand jerking his rather large size. You let your hand rest on his thigh, making him bite his lip. “You’re quite impressive.” You whisper and Mattheo grips his cock a little hard. You loved how needy he was for your praise, for you, but he hated how much control you had over him.

Theodore

You sit opposite of Theo and don’t see Blaise, but still roll your eyes. How dare he interrupt your tutoring session. Obviously your tutoring was more important than quidditch. Theo gathers his papers and you tilt your head, when he looks up at Blaise to say something you quickly move your leg. Theodore’s eyes widen as your elegant heels move between his thighs. Your tongue slowly wets your lips as the slytherin’s eyes meet yours. You notice how his chest heaves and you have to keep yourself from smirking, but you play it professional and look at him through your lashes. Blaise coughs as he waits for a response from his friend. “I can’t.” Theodore finally answers, but there’s a hint of reluctance in his voice. He hated giving into you, but he just could not help himself. He needed to stay and see if he had a chance with you.

Blaise nods and disappears, making you smile proudly at Theodore. You don’t say anything and remove your high heels from between Theo’s legs, making him relax a bit. When he doesn’t return his attention to his pages but rather continues to stare at you, you get up from your seat and walk over to him. Your hands rest on his shoulder, massaging them gently before letting your hands slip down under his loosened shirt to his chest. “You really need to pass that transfiguration test so you better focus.” Your taunting whisper makes Theo lick his lip as his mind wanders to all the things he would rather do than focus.

When you still don’t get the right response you lean down so your lips brush his ear. “Be a good student. I like good students. If you work through all chapters by tonight you might earn yourself a reward.” You let a hand rest just above his belt as your other hand grabs his chin, making him face you. “Can you do that for me?” You're toying with him and he knows it, but he wants to be your toy so badly. The last bit of protest within Theo disappears and he nods. You let go of his pretty face and he returns to his summary.

“If you’ve finished your summary, come find me so I can check it for you.” You say and quickly grab your stuff. “You’re leaving?” Theodore blurs and he gets flustered by how desperate he sounded. You chuckle. “Yes, I do things outside of tutoring, but you can come and find me in my dorm when your summary is done.” You turn on your heels and he watches your beautiful figure disappear, but as soon as you’re out of sight he starts working on his summary, eager to have it finished and see you again.

***

A knock on the door has you turn your head. Before you can say anything the door slowly opens to reveal Theodore and you smile when he shows you a small bundle of papers. “My summary.” He states still not entering your room, but rather leaning against the doorframe waiting for permission to enter. Theodore knew better than to go into a girl’s room without her invitation. He learned that from Pansy, the hard way. You're amused by his good behaviour and get up from your seat to take his summary. You flip through the pages and Theo watches you with anticipation. Your hair fell perfectly, your eyes were engaged with his sloppy handwriting and ever so gently you bit your plush bottom lip. He was about to adore the rest of your body, but you speak up and meet his eyes. “This is actually really thorough. I’m impressed.” A smug smile forms on Theodore lips, but as smug as he tries to act he’s blushing as well, touched by your compliment on his work.

“If you put your mind to it, Theodore, you can get much better grades.” You continue and Theo chuckles. “I’m just rarely motivated, but you changed that.” You're surprised by his confidence, but you can’t deny that you like it. “Someone’s after his reward.” You quip and Theodore feels himself heat up. It was obvious there was no need to deny it, he wanted you and you both knew it. “You promised.” Theo says as he leans his head back a little in an attempt to look nonchalant about the whole situation.

You lay the papers down on your desk and side eye him before nodding as a silent invitation to enter, which he quickly does. He closes the door by pressing his back against his, eyes never leaving your body. His hungry eyes make you chuckle. “Just out of curiosity, what do you think you’re going to get for doing something as basic as writing a summary?” You elegantly walk over to him and seductively trace a finger over his chest. “I want a chance to dig my face between your legs.” Theo’s determined voice in combination with that phrase has your eyes widen. There’s a moment of silent tension as you stare deep into his eyes. “Don’t disappoint.” You tell him as you move your hand to his shoulder to guide him down to his knees.

Enzo

Your eyes slowly move from Blaise to Enzo who smiles bright at his friend, but shakes his head no. “Can’t, mate, I really gotta finish this or I won’t play at all.” Your eyes get all shiny when the slytherin’s eyes fall back to the books in front of him. When Blaise is far enough not to hear anything going on you scoot a little closer to Enzo. “I must say, I’m impressed at how dedicated you are to our tutoring sessions.” Enzo looks up to see your sweet smile focussed on him and he has to keep himself from drooling as his mouth parts a little. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing at how lost he is, staring at you. Eventually a soft laugh does escape your lips. “You know, if you keep studying like this you might get a reward.” Now Enzo’s jaw drops a little more and you can’t resist putting a finger under his chin to close his mouth.

You hadn’t said anything about what this reward would be, but he sure as hell wasn’t thinking about cookies, then again neither were you. “If you work hard like the good boy you are, I’ll treat you to something sweet.” Lorenzo was unsure if it was your honey voice or the way you softly bit your lip, but his pants suddenly felt a little tighter and his heart was racing at an unhealthy pace.

***

For weeks Enzo Berkshire had been the perfect student. Always on time for his tutoring lessons, working from start to finish, engaged with his work and his grades showed it. Yet the praise from the teachers or even the girls in his class, it all left him cold because he was only after one thing and that was the sweet reward you had promised him. Striptease, lapdance, blowjob, sex… just a piece of lingerie would be fine. Next lesson, probably… However, you had kept him waiting. Since there was never an exact agreement on when he would receive his reward, Enzo was left to guess and hope every week that this would be it. You on the other hand benefited from waiting for two reasons: Lorenzo was incredibly motivated and Lorenzo was insanely cute when he tried hinting at his reward, not really daring to ask for it.

You were surprised by how long he had played along, but he really couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. He was exploding of desire for you and the thought of getting anything from you as reward drove him mad. So he had to ask. Though the question didn’t come as a surprise, the timing was.

You were explaining the importance of distance when using certain conjurations, when Enzo suddenly spook up. “I work hard. I’m a good student. I deserve my reward. I deserve you.” Your eyes move from the page you were pointing at to see a blushing Enzo stare at you. You sit a little straighter and Enzo swallows, terrified that his impatience had caused him to screw up with the prettiest witch to ever walk the earth. “What do you mean with that last bit, ‘I deserve you’?” A nervous chuckle leaves Lorenzo’s lips and he even starts fidgeting with his fingers, making you raise an eyebrow. He went from demanding daddy to whipped mamma’s boy real fast. “What I meant to say was… uhm… I deserve whatever you give me. I just forgot a few words there.” You smile at his nonsensical answer and react with a serious tone. “Exactly.”

With a flick of your wrist the door slams shut and Enzo’s eyes stick to the classroom door as he realises he’s now completely alone in a room with you. While his face heats up, his blood rushes down. “You were cute trying to be all demanding.” You say as you move from your seat, Enzo watching you carefully. “I didn’t mean to come off too strong. I was just really excited for this-.” The teasing smile tugging on your lips when he said the word ‘exciting’ has Enzo falling silent. With another flick of your wrist Enzo’s chair turns towards you and he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. “No doubt you’re excited.” You whisper, referring to the bulge in his pants. He feels like he’s about to lose consciousness when you slowly go down on your knees in front of him. He doesn’t move and he almost forgets to breathe as your perfect hands unbuckle his belt.

Him moving up to help you lower his pants was instinct, because you had turned his mind to mush, his eyes drowning in yours. As soon as you start jerking his dick his moans fill the room, making you wonder what sounds he’ll make once you have him in your mouth.

Whimpers, is what filled the room when your tongue teased his tip, and cries when you finally move to take his member deep. You had him begging in a matter of seconds and you loved the control as much as you were starting to love Enzo.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 month

Note

Spencer reid sends you a period basket every month no matter where he is!!! Without fail there’s a bouquet of flowers, your favourite chocolates, a poem or excerpt from whatever he’s reading, and some of your favourite skincare or body care and he just likes knowing that he’s going to get either a video or FaceTime call from you to tell him about it

Omg like Yolanda and Zack on TT!!!

Spencer knows that your period is a little irregular so he waits for the minute you start exhibiting pms symptoms.

He always checks to see what you have and what you need and takes stock mentally of all that he wants to get you too.

This month had been a little harder on you than others and so he goes a little crazy.

“My period came,” you sound a little pleased, glad it hasn’t been too late this month, but also a little peeved because the cramps are not letting up.

“I got your basket right here, angel.” You look up at him as he holds a bouquet in one hand and a basket in the next. “They’re fresh, the lady at the florist had just picked them.”

You lean up for a kiss, Spencer smiling when you take it and take a big inhale of the carnations. “Thank you Spence,” he hands over the basket next.

You go through it, taking the essentials, your pads and tampons and then your chocolates, out first. Then you see the folded sweater on the bottom. “Spence,” it’s a soft material, softer than your usual sweaters, something that you want to switch into now. You hardly hesitate to do it.

Then you see the face masks and serums and even some aromatherapy oils. “Thank you baby.”

Spencer accepts the way you vault yourself into him, holding the back of your head close to his chest as his other arm wraps around you.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.” You whisper into his clothes and he chuckles.

“That’s just boyfriend duties, sweetheart. Plus one of the things is late. Should be here tomorrow though.”

You pull back, shocked and a little skeptical of how breezy his tone is. “Spencer Reid.” You try to be stern.

“Yes, my love?” He strokes your face from temple to jaw, tilting his head down a little as he stares at you.

“You’re no fair. What did you order?” You ask softly, a little lost in your adoration for him.

“A box set. The new series you wanted, I preordered it.” Tears spring fresh to your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you feel the openness of his love for you- of how easy he finds it to dole out his love and affection and dote on you.

“Hey, no tears.” He wipes them away with his sleeve, gentle pressure on your cheeks. “I thought you’d be happy, or are these happy tears?”

You nod, “You’re just…” you can’t seem to settle on the right word. “,perfect.”

Spencer laughs rubbing your arms. “Thank you, but that’s not possible. Wanna watch movies with me? There’s the good popcorn, in the cupboards too.”

“Spencer stop. You’re gonna make me cry even more, I’m already so emotional.” He only hums, kissing your forehead as he reaches for the tv remote.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid

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remuslupinslittleslut · 3 months

Note

poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!

OH to be manhandled by poly!marauders

I changed it slightly, reader is not quite unconscious, but still to drunk to make sane decisions, and the boys interfere because we love consent!

Smutty part two here!

Throwing the last of your drink back, you let your eyes wander over the three men standing across the room. They’re tall, handsome, and the blinking lights of the party only make them look that much more delicious to you.

Deciding to make your way over, you almost trip as you climb over limbs, pressing your body between others.

“Hi darling, having fun?” Asks one of your three boyfriends, as you fall into his arms, having been pushed lightly by the moving crowd.

“Yes, Siri, very fun,” you say, leaning in to kiss right below his ear.

You feel another set of arms around you, knowing it to be James’. He and Sirius usually got the most overprotective of you in these types of situations – Remus just kept an eye on you from across the room, not feeling the need to be near you all the time, knowing you’d be going home with them anyways.

“Love,” James laughed, “You are drunk.”

Turning your head to look at him, you find stars covering your eyes, and when they disappear, you have some trouble knowing which of the two sets of eyes are really his.

“No, Jamie, I’m not, just a lil happy, s’all,” your words come out slightly slurred, only proving James’ accusation to be true.

They share a look, something you’re too busy to notice. Your lips are pressing into Sirius’ neck, hands holding on to his shoulders, small moans escaping your lips.

“Baby, it’s time to go home,” he murmurs, lips pressed to the top of your head.

When you get home, you feel like you’ve won, it’s finally time to take those pants off. You hold on tightly to James as Sirius helps you out of your clothes, your head racing, ready for the feeling of lips against your core. That never comes. Instead, a t-shirt is placed over your head, and you’re handed a cup of water. Deciding that this was no fun, you instead make your way over to the bed, where Remus lay. You’re not very graceful as you climb over him, resting your thighs on either side of his hips.

“Hi, darling,” he says, arms wrapping around you.

“Hi Remmy,” you sloppily move your hips, lips kissing along his shoulder.

“What’re you doing, love?” Remus asks, hands holding your hips to stop them from moving.

You sigh, one hand moving down to touch the growing bulge in his pants.

“What’s it seem like? I’m tryna get in your pants,” you say, irritation growing.

His hands wrap around your wrists, legs maneuvering you to lay down next to him.

“No, baby, you’re too drunk,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly. “You can’t give proper consent when you’re like this.”

“But Remmy, I want it,” you argue.

“No darling,” says James, having plopped down on the bed next to you, one hand brushing strands of hair away from your face. “You’re not sober, you can’t make a sound decision right now, we’re not gonna have sex with you tonight.”

You sigh heavily, kicking your legs in annoyance. The heat in your core, the dripping of your juices down your thighs doesn’t just stop because you had a few drinks.

A head of curly hair pops out of the adjoining bathroom, toothpaste running slightly around the goofy smile. “We can have sex tomorrow, when we’re all sober!”“Yeah, love, we love fucking you, but right now, we’ll cuddle, and then we can have other kinds of fun in the morning,” Remus says, reassuringly.

#mywriting #amathelia writes #fanfic #marauders era #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #Sirius Black #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #fluff #consenting kings

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janeyseymour · 3 months

Note

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes.

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making.

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

“The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

how you get the girl

words: 900

warnings: mutual pining, brief mentions of sex

“hey, rafe.” you say, plopping down on the couch next to him, lucky to find him alone at the party.

“what’s up?” rafe asks, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“just wanted to ask you something.” you say, biting your lip.

“want to ask me to fuck you in the bathroom?” rafe smirks.

“no, uh-” you have an agreement with rafe. he likes you, or more like he likes to fuck you, so you’ve agreed to a friends with benefit type situation. “theres a new restaurant in town, i was wondering if you wanted to go with me tomorrow?”

you don’t expect rafe to say yes. it goes outside of your agreement that should be simple, but the feelings have over complicated it.

“oh.” rafe is taken aback back the question. “sure.” it’s not the answer you’re hoping for, but it’s a yes, “is it fancy? should i wear a suit?”

“no,” you shake your head and let out a little laugh, “i think just jeans and a nice shirt would be good. i’m just wearing a sundress.”

“a sundress?” that perks rafe up.

you laugh, knowing how much he likes you in that style of dress.

“mhm.” you nod. “pick me up at 7 then?”

“oh, i have to drive?” rafe jokes, knowing while you have a drivers license, you almost never drive. you don’t have your own car, and whenever you and rafe hook up, he always picks you up and drives you back to your house.

you giggle, kissing rafe on the cheek. “i’m gonna head home, see you tomorrow though.”

you’re surprised that rafe doesn’t say anything about you not hooking up that night. he gives a playful slap on the ass as you walk away, sharing your sentiments about seeing you tomorrow. usually every time you’re at a party together you’ll hook up. you’re happy and satisfied immediately, of course, but after you are just left feeling empty inside, wishing you could be something more.

you spend hours getting ready, way more than you usually do for a night with rafe, hoping this time it really is different. your hair is curled perfectly, makeup applied without a flaw (at least there better not be, you washed it all off and reapplied twice because your foundation wasn’t sitting right), and your dress was picked out especially to appeal to rafe.

theres a knock on your apartment door and you hurry to answer it, taking a deep breath before swinging the door open.

“hey!” you try to act casual but you know the excitement on your face is evident.

“hi- wow.” rafes eyes widen. “you look gorgeous.”

“why thank you.”

“these… are for you.” he says it like it’s almost a question, holding up a bouquet of flowers.

“you got me flowers?” you don’t mean to sound so rude, but you’re in shock.

“i… i asked sarah for dating advice.” rafe shrugs, “she said to get you flowers, and um, i guessed that you’d like peonies.”

“they’re my favorite.” you say honestly, taking the bouquet from him and giving them a sniff. “come in while i put them in a vase.”

you lead rafe in, heading towards your kitchen. “did you really ask sarah for advice?” you ask, going to get a vase down for a cabinet, but rafe stops you, getting it for you so you don’t have to reach so high and get on your tiptoes for it.

“i um… i’ve never really been on a serious date before.” rafe admits. “and i really like you.”

“you do?” you turn to face him, setting the vase down.

“i don’t just hook up with a girl i don’t like for a year.” rafe scratches the back of his neck, leaning against the countertop.

“i guess, but i kinda figured… nevermind.” you shake your head, picking up the vase and filling it under the sink.

“no, tell me.” rafe says, helping you unwrap the bouquet and place the individual peonies in the water.

“i just thought that’s all you were interested in me for, you know, hooking up.”

“maybe at first, before i got to know you. to be honest, i was feeling… unsatisfied. oh- not, not with the sex.” rafe assures you. “ just with the whole arrangement.” rafe chuckles. “i guess i fell for you at some point.”

you turn towards him now that all the flowers are in the vase. “i can’t believe your saying this.” “why?” “you’re just so… you. you’re being all soft right now.”

rafe laughs, placing his hands on your waist and pulls you in close. “don’t tell anyone about that, by the way. can’t ruin my tough guy reputation.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” you laugh, giving rafe a peck on the lips.

“ready to go to the restaurant?” rafe questions. “i don’t want my girl going hungry.”

it’s the first time that rafe has referred to you as his girl, and you know he doesn’t miss the blush on your face as he leads you out to his truck, helping you in the passenger seat.

“check your makeup.” rafe says as he gets into the drivers side.

“what?” you ask, wondering if something was wrong, like if your lipstick was smudged, or mascara was running. you fold down the visor to reveal not just the mirror, but your name in diamond letters along the bottom.

“rafe!” you scream, looking over at him, noting the smug look on his face.

“it’s not like anyone uses it but you.” he shrugs.

“i- i fucking love it, i don’t know what to say.” you lean over and give him a big kiss.

“you’re officially my passenger princess now.”

#obxweek23 #reupload!#rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot

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laiiaaa · 7 months

Note

in need of more dad!carmy cause oml

him walkin in on the girls doing something they're not supposed to be doin :0 but ofc he can't manage to stay upset at them for long

He’s got the biggest soft spot in the world for his girls and he really can’t help it, especially when they’re young. They’re always up to something, usually because Rory’s a little shit (she takes after you) and Jack’s just trying to copy after her big sister.

You’re fast asleep one night when he’s wide awake. Just nerves, kinks in the road with The Bear, thoughts of Mikey’s birthday approaching, anxiety bubbling up that he doesn’t want to worry you with. So he heads downstairs to sit outside and clear his head with some fresh air—

Only to find Rory and Jack in the living room, on the floor, your sneaky bag of candy—the one reserved for you, that you pick at once the girls are off to bed and you’re cozied up on the couch with Carmen, chatting about your days between sweets—dispersed on the floor.

They don’t even notice his presence till he speaks up:

“What’s goin’ on here?”

They both look up, entirely spooked at their dad standing feet away.

“You two should be in bed.”

“But Dad,” Rory whines, “We don’t even have school tomorrow.” She puts on that pout she knows will have him cooing at her, and Jack follows right behind. “We were just looking, I promise.”

“Just lookin’, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“You know that’s your mother’s, right? That’s her candy you’re stealin’?”

Jack frowns, puts her big brown doe eyes to work. “Mommy lets us have some all the time.”

“Don’t lie t’me, Jacqueline.” One hand of his rests at his hip, the other swiping at his mouth as he fidgets. “You lyin’ t’me?”

He looks back and forth between his girls—his babies, really, because even though they’ve grown out of diapers and go to school on the weekdays, he still can’t fathom them as anything but his baby girls. So small, and so adorable, with tiny pouts and tiny hands and tiny giggles. They’re just so sweet.

“Not lyin’, Daddy.”

“She’s not,” Rory agrees. “Promise.”

He must be going soft. If Richie knew, he’d never hear the end of it, what with his heart going to mush at his girls, how he sees you in them both, how just a simple and meek little promise has his irritation going smooth and his lungs letting out a sigh before he cleans them up and carries them to bed—after they get one more piece of candy, of course, because who is he to deny them a little joy?

Carmen tells you the short of it by morning, limbs tangled together.

“You’re too easy on ‘em,” you giggle, “Such a softie. And they know it.”

“I’m not, y’know, soft, I’m just—”

“Bear, you let them get away with everything—”

“No I don’t—”

“If you say so,” you tease, letting the matter settle with your lips pressed sweetly against his, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you just a little closer. “It’s gonna come back ‘n bite you, though.”

“I’ll be alright, baby.” Another gentle trail of kisses, along your jaw, down to your neck, fading away at your collarbone. He’d kiss you all day if you’d let him.

“Hm.” Your nails scratch gently along his back, and you press your fingertips into the tender muscles of his back as he buries himself into your neck. “Are you making waffles today?”

A muffled groan escapes him, and he peeks up at you. “Thought you said you were doin’ breakfast today?”

You pout, and it looks awfully familiar to him. “Next weekend?”

“Next weekend, huh?”

“Promise.”

And oh, how the irony dawns on him, and oh, how little he cares. But why would he? How could he say no to you, or the girls you’ve brought into his life, when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him—when you love him like you do?

With a brief stretch and a deepened kiss with your hands in his hair, he lifts himself out of bed as you trail close behind, your touch a comfort unlike anything else. And when you shimmy into your seat at the counter, laughing with him over your cup of coffee, watching sweetly as he prepares breakfast before the girls scurry into the kitchen, he knows:

He wouldn’t change a thing.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #jeremy allen white #dad!carm #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy x reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine

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crazyk-imagine · 5 months

Text

Misunderstandings and New Found Love

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Hybrid!reader

Characters: Sam Uley, Hybrid!reader, Emily Young, Edward Cullen, Rosalie Hale, Esme Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, Victoria, Jared Cameron, Paul Lahote, Leah Clearwater, Seth Clearwater, Jacob Black, Embry Call, Quil Ateara V, Bella Swan (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: The science in here makes total sense, angst, fluff, happy ending, the ending might be quick but there's time skips people, characters might be ooc but idc, twilight tings, Sam and Emily being iconic, cursing, reader uses last name when they're mad, Jared's the comedic relief, Paul and reader have a past

Word Count: 4,800

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

You look up, ready to help the most recent customer who walked in; only to find the one person you didn’t. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m not here to ask.”

“Then why are you here,” you hiss at him.

"I'm just... checking on you.”

“Checking on me? Did you check on me when my dad died or when my mom left and died in the accident because as I recall, Uley, you didn’t. So, I’m going to kindly ask that you get whatever you need and leave.”

“Have we really come to this?”

“Yes,” you nod, grabbing the next order and setting it in front of one of your regulars before walking back to him. “Ever since you all… changed, things have been tense."

"Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“No one-"

“You have no idea what anyone thinks or the looks they give me.” You take a deep breath, trying not to let him know how much it affects you. “I just- I want it to stop. I’m tired of them all staring at me like I’m a monster. As if this isn’t enough,” you mumble the last part under your breath.

His shoulders sag, not realizing anything that’s going on in your life. “You should come by the res tomorrow.”

Before you can try and argue with him as he rearranges the bags so he can have a better grip on them.

“No one but Em and I will be there.”

“They’re going to know I was there.”

“They won’t know it was you specifically and besides, I’m their alpha.”

“Way to use your title for your own gain.”

“It got you to smile. Thanks for the food.”

You shake your head, knowing it’s a bad idea even though you’re sitting in their makeshift driveway.

Sam’s warmth emanates through the door. “You coming in?”

“You gonna put on a shirt.”

“I will if you come in.”

“That sounds like blackmail.”

“Just-”

“Sam, quit standing in front of her door. She can’t get out if you’re just standing there.”

“Yeah, Sam.”

He narrows his eyes and steps back. “You really want to make fun of the alpha?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Alright, you two.”

You snicker when the man beside you lowers his head, looking like a sad puppy.

“It’s nice to see you again. How are you?”

You shrug, officially feeling more awkward than ever.

“You can talk to us, you know. We always cared about you.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Emily. But I don’t think anyone in town would agree with you.”

“Good thing I’m not like everyone else.”

You lower your head as the scent of one of her infamous muffins hits your sensitive nose.

“I’m sure you’re hungry after being up for a while.”

You shrug.

“So, what brings you here?”

“Your heater came into the diner, again and basically begged me to come over.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

“Why do you think I’m in layers?”

“A sign of self-torture.”

“Sam-”

“I can’t pretend that they’re not hiding themselves from the world after everything that’s happened.”

“Thanks for never changing and I’ll take that as my cue to leave.” You move to get off the stool.

“No, you’re not. Sam, stop bringing up things they’re not ready to talk about.”

“Fine.”

She hands you a mug of hot cocoa, knowing it’s your favorite to have around the holidays.

“What… do you guys know?” You tap the rim of the mug, watching the steam disappear.

“Only that you shifted,” he answers after the couple share a look with one another.

“Everyone thinks I shifted in the car, right?”

“Not everyone.”

“What do you think happened?” You ask, lifting your head.

"A cold one was nearby.”

You nod, “yeah. She,” you shake your head, feeling your body start to shake.

"You don’t have to talk about it.”

You give her a soft smile.

“She decided to leave because it was too much and left me a note, not even bothering to apologize and it- it pissed me off. I shifted and then ran after her, only to find one of them going after her and… took care of it.”

“You weren’t in the car?”

You shake your head, wiping your cheeks. "No."

"Why does everyone think you were?”

“I pulled her out and-” You cover your face.

“Do you remember who it was?”

“It was some redhead, I think. She definitely wasn’t happy with me.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, not wanting to worry them.

After talking for a few hours, you know it’s time to leave.

“What? No," Emily whines.

"Em, they don’t like me, and I’d rather not be glared at while you try and take care of everyone.”

“I still don’t want you to leave.”

“I do.” You grab your stuff and grab your bag before pausing. “Thank you for listening.”

“Always,” the woman smiles. “We’ll see you again, okay.”

You kept in touch but didn’t go back to their home for a while, not until you were dragged back by Sam but we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves.

You knew what was happening and watched from a distance, never letting the cold ones or the other wolves know of your presence.

The alpha was the only one who knew you were there.

You didn’t tell him you’d be nearby in case they needed an extra body because they thought you were a murderer.

A couple of the newborns sneaked into the woods to try and escape but never got far enough with you there.

Body parts were flying around so no one questioned anything when more came their way.

Then you turned around and noticed one of them aiming for Leah, before Jake could even try to intervene, you did; barely batting an eye when they stared in your direction.

You shoved her out of the way and took care of the newborn before anyone could get hurt, shocking everyone but Sam, who grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side. “What was that?”

“I saved someone from your pack before they could get hurt, what’s it look like?”

“Don’t take that attitude with me.”

“Try and control me, watch what happens.”

He growls your name.

“I needed this.”

The mind reader is beside you two, trying to calm everyone down. “She’s the reason, isn’t she?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, so this felt like I could save someone and get my own revenge.”

“She, did it?”

You scoff, snatching your arm out of his grasp. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. You knew the moment I told you.”

He tries to defend himself but you’re not having any of it. “I ask one thing of you, vegetarian.”

He raises his brow.

“I lite her.” You pull up your sleeve, he notices the bite on your arm but doesn’t comment on it (yet).

You take the torch from the blonde and stare into the red head’s eyes for a second, “hopefully you’re not tortured too bad in hell.”

You glance at the other cold ones and raise a brow. “If you guys die, you’re definitely not going where that bitch is. You know better and have worked on redeeming yourselves.”

They glance at one another, not expecting you to hear that.

You rip your sleeves and make a quick wrap for the human. “Wrap this around your arm, it should help until you can get the proper bandaging."

She blinks owlishly, “oh- uh- thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Who do you think you are?” She gets in your face.

“You better move before you do something you’re going to regret, Leah.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s rich coming from the murderer.”

You scoff through your nose and grab her by the collar of her shirt, her eyes widen not expecting this to get physical but doesn’t back down. “Say that again when I’m the one who saved your ass. You have no idea what happened that day, so you need to shut your mouth.”

Sam stands behind you, waiting to see what happens because he knows that you know better than to fight someone.

“Keep your pack in check, Uley.”

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere I won’t get pissed off.”

You start to head into the woods when the mind reader stands in front of you.

“Did she do that?”

You don’t need to look down to figure out what he’s talking about. “That’s why neither you nor the others can smell me. I hide it.”

“They don’t know, do they?”

“Not about this, only Sam and his girl know about the red head's involvement. I only shared so you’d know.”

“That was kind of you to share even when you didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m frickin’ amazing, can I go now?”

He steps aside. “You should stay with them.”

“How can I do that when they don’t trust me?”

“Make them.”

“It’s not easy, Cullen.”

“If you can do it with their alpha, you can tell the others.”

You roll your eyes, “get your girl checked out before she gets an infection.”

He heads back over towards Bella.

“Did you see her arms?” The human asks.

He nods. “They don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Of Victoria’s involvement in the worst day of her life.”

Esme and Jasper’s shoulders sag, unable to imagine what you went through.

“And it’s still alive?” Rosalie chimes in.

“She'll become hybrid.”

The Cullens raise their brows.

Sam orders everyone to go back to Emily’s and hopes you do the same after seeing your arms.

You roll your eyes and answer his call. “Unavailable, please leave a message after I hang up."

“Cute, get to Emily’s.”

“You can’t make me.”

You can hear the couple arguing over who should be the one to talk to you.

“Please come over. We have a lot to talk about.”

You sigh, “do they still think I did it?"

"You can change their minds.”

“That’s so much work,” you groan.

“Please. I haven’t seen you in a few weeks and I know you barely know your way around a kitchen.”

“I’m better than you think.”

You stand on the porch, knowing it's going to be hell the moment you step inside.

“You’re going to put a hole in their porch the longer you stay out there,” Paul jokes, earning a chuckle from almost all of his pack mates.

You open the door and ignore their gazes as Emily pulls you into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” She pulls back and checks over your eyes stopping on your arms. Her worried eyes land on your face. “Did she-”

You glance at the pack from the corner of your eye, sensing their stares.

Sam stands beside you, placing a hand on your back as he shares a stare with his fiancée. “Sit down with the others while I finish up dinner.”

He guides you to sit but the uncomfortableness emanating from them makes you aim for the couch. "You're sitting at the table.”

“Sam-”

“A pack sits together.”

Paul and Jared scoff. “As if they’re part of the pack. Not after what happened,” the former says.

You tense up, closing your eyes so as to not lose your cool.

“Don’t talk about it,” Emily tells them.

“How are we supposed to ignore the fact-”

You growl, eyes changing colors; you can’t turn around. “Ignore the fact that my mother died, and I almost did, at the hands of that red headed bitch no less.”

Emily says your name.

“Sorry, Em. I know cursing is basically forbidden in here but that was me being nice.”

You push yourself off the couch. “This was a bad idea.” You try to pass the pack when one of them sticks their foot out, you kick it with too much strength, irking the hot head.

You open the door and nearly fall, the doorway being the only reason you’re still standing.

“Hey, hey,” Sam started freaking out. “What’s going on?”

You run towards the railing and throw up.

“Why is it- are throwing up-” He stops himself when he sees the color. “What did you do?”

“I’m dying lone wolf. What does it look like?”

“I told you-”

“They hate me. It was never going to happen.”

He picks you up and brings you back inside. “Call Carlisle and ask him what we can do?”

Paul makes another snide comment and you’re losing it.

You get away from the alpha and grab the wolf’s shoulders, shoving him into the wall, not at all making eye contact with him until you hold him in place, with the black bile dripping down your chin.

“Listen here, Lahote and listen well. I will not take any more of your smartass comments. I am still a person with the same issues as yours just a little extra, but your comments stop now. I am tired of everyone thinking I did it. You want to know what happened. That red head came into town and my mom decided enough was enough, she packed a bag and was getting ready to leave. I shifted, found her about to eat my mom and wound-up getting bit only to find that she did go for my mom and held her till her last breath. Then as they hauled her away, I found the scars and realized what happened. Someone spread some rumors and here we are. You want to say anything else?”

He shakes his head, letting out a deep breath.

"Holy shit!" Jared says as soon as your body sways.

Leah, the closest to you, grabs you before you could fall. "We need to take her to a hospital."

"She won't go but maybe the imprint will help?"

"Holy shit!"

"Shut up, Jared," Embry takes initiative and reaches over to punch his pack brother's shoulder. "Shut up man. You're not helping."

The one who can't stop repeating himself rolls his eyes. "You can't tell me I'm the only ones whose mind was blown with everything we just learned."

"You're not but you can shut up."

"Take her to the guest room while I call-"

"No!" Paul stays where he is, debating on leaving now so as not to hurt you anymore than he already has.

The sight of his imprint half dead in Leah's arms and the jokes he made while trying to trip you make him realize he's an even bigger idiot than he thought. "Don't call the leech doctor."

"What are we supposed to do? Let them slowly die when we know there's someone who could have saved them?"

The hot head wants to growl at his alpha but doesn't because he doesn't want to lose it faster than he wants, he's having a hard time trying to calm himself as it is.

"He's here."

Carlisle smiles, "Alice had a vision and sent me over as soon as she could."

"We appreciate it."

"What's going on with our patient?"

Everyone tells them what they know and have seen.

"I see. There is a likely possibility that the venom is working through their system and hasn't quite mixed yet."

"What does that mean? They have to die in order to live?" Paul chimes in.

"It may also have to do with the fact that they haven't shifted as often as you and are not part of a pack. Lone shifters have a hard enough time trying to survive on their own but mixing in the venom, is well-"

"A death sentence just waiting to happen," Sam finishes for him.

The doctor doesn’t want to tell him he's right and knows his silence is enough.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Continue to make sure they are comfortable and let nature heal them."

"So, your solution is to let them die?!"

"Get him out of here," Sam orders Jared, Embry, Leah, and Quil.

They drag him out so the two can continue their conversation.

"I know you just imprinted but you need to calm down, dude," Jared tells him.

Paul continues to shake, unsure of anything he's feeling right now.

On the one hand he has someone to love and protect but on the other hand, he has to try even harder to control himself otherwise he's going to lose it.

He's also upset because he was acting like such a dick to his imprint and even though he never thought he'd find them; he definitely didn't want this to be his first impression. "How am I supposed to calm down when everyone's solution is to let them die?"

With Jared blocking his way in, he can easily get in his face.

"How would you feel if this was happening with Kim, huh? Tell me that."

His friend's face hardens, "don't talk about her."

"Then don't try and talk about mine like you know something."

They stare at each other, their chests heaving with each heavy breath they take.

"Great, now that we've had our macho match, can we go for a run? As much as I want to make it up to them, I don't want to be here any longer when we can't apologize," Embry interrupts.

The two shake their heads and head into the woods so they can phase and be free to run wherever they want.

"How can we help them?" Sam asks the doctor.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Sam. This is a little out of my jurisdiction, but I will do all that I can to help anyway, I can."

The alpha nods, "I appreciate it."

"I believe now their transition will be complete within the next few days."

"What brought this on?"

"It was only a matter of time before it hit, and I think the adrenaline and stress of the battle speeded things up." He glances back at the alpha who stares at your body with much concern. "May I ask, how close you are to the lone shifter?"

"Before everything happened, we were close. I always thought of them as my younger sibling but then everything happened, and I stopped talking to them because I was concerned for their safety and didn't want to hurt them."

The doctor can tell by the look on the shifter’s face that he's still disappointed in himself. "You did all you could and allowing my assistance is more than they could ask for."

"How long will it take?"

"My guess is, they'll be ready by tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"Their shifter DNA is altering the venom and their genetics. Now that they're resting, they've been able to heal themselves."

He notices the expression on Sam's face. "Let's give them privacy. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

Emily and Sam hug one another, unsure of what to think; they never wanted this for you, and they feel terrible because they can't help you.

"The boys should be back soon, yeah?"

He nods. "Hopefully Paul's calmed down."

"I think this is going to be a hard time for him."

"Yeah, I know," the alpha sighs.

The boys and Leah make it back to their home and sit at the table. "What are we going to do?"

"We have to wait."

"Did you two know?" Leah asks.

"They told us what happened, but we didn't know she bit her," Sam tells her. "We knew they were hiding something, but we didn't expect this."

"You should have told us," Paul grumbles while snacking on a muffin.

"You didn't even like them until you imprinted," Jake points out.

"I'm not the one on trial here."

The young wolf scoffs, "you should be."

The hot head stands up, pushing the chair back. "You want to take this outside?"

"Maybe I do."

"Alright, you two, that's enough."

They back down at the voice of the alpha, although it takes Jake a few more seconds before he sits down where he was. "You two need to stop it. We've got enough to deal with right now."

After an hour, most of the pack leaves; some to do their patrol shift, others to spend time with their family.

"Do you want to stay in the room with them?" Emily asks, noticing the longing he directs at the door.

He doesn't want to say it out loud and nods.

"I'll tell Sam when he gets back, you can go in but be careful, okay?"

"Do you think they'll forgive me?"

She nods, remembering her and Sam's minor falling out after his episode. "It'll take time."

He sighs and the door inches open, he hesitates to move.

The sight of you almost lifeless and thinking he hates you, kills him.

Why didn’t anyone tell them they’d get so sappy?

He doesn’t know whether he likes it or not as he takes a seat by the bed. His eyes trail over your face, taking in every inch of you.

If he was the artsy type, he’d definitely paint you. He doesn’t know when he fell asleep but waking up to the sun rising was annoying, just because he was one with nature doesn’t mean he needs it to be his alarm clock.

He rubs his eyes, trying to remember everything that happened last night and glances down at you.

You moved in your sleep, the hand practically reaching for him, warms his heart.

He grabs it, wanting you to be comfortable and not wake up with achy joints.

Your eyes move and he doesn’t realize it. It’s hard to open your eyes but you manage to do it, only to find the hothead holding your hand.

You freeze and his eyes trail up your arm, staring into yours.

“You like me now?” Your voice cracks after not having used it in a while.

He shakes his head and reaches for the glass Emily left, inching closer and closer to your face.

You grab it from him after pushing yourself up, back resting against the headboard. “What happened?”

“You died.”

You blink your eyes rapidly, trying to understand what he just said. “I’m sorry?”

“The venom from the bite was killing you and the fact that you barely shift… didn’t help.”

“So, now I’m both?”

“I think so.”

You set the cup down and push sheets off your heating body.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving,” you grumble.

He pushes himself out of the chair and grabs your wrists, stopping you. “No, you’re not.”

“You don’t own me.”

“The imprint bond says otherwise.”

You snatch your wrists out of his grasp, “no, the bond is basically saying we’re soulmates and you don’t own me.”

You make it out of the door and into the hallway before it clicks. “We’re imprints?!”

“I think they’re awake,” Jared comments and shoves a piece of bacon into his mouth.

Embry smacks the back of his head.

“No, no, no.” You stand before the woman you go to for everything. “Tell me it’s not true.”

The corners of her lips twitch.

You snatch a sausage and munch on it. “This is not right.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I feel the love.”

You purse your lips and glare at him. “You’re the one that was being a dick yesterday and now because of the bond, you want to be my prince charming.”

“I never said that.”

“You’re acting like it.” You sit on the couch before any of them realize where you are going. Your head plops against the back of the couch. “Why am I so damn emotional?”

A warm hand rests against your knee; you lift your head and find those damn attractive eyes that have always captivated you. “You went through a big change which has altered a part of you.”

“I didn’t want this,” you sniff.

He nods, “I know but w- you’re going to get through it.”

“You weren’t nearly half as nice as this before you shifted.”

“Sweetheart, I was nicer to you than most people.”

“It’s true,” Jared and Quil chime in.

“No one asked you two.”

They stare at you with wide eyes and raised brows as if this had proven their point.

“If you’ll let me, I’ll be there for you.”

You stare at him, gulping at his words. “How do I know you mean that, and you aren’t just saying that, so I don’t eat half the town?”

“We,” he clears his throat. “We came up with an alternative if you wound up being more of a leech- cold one, more of a cold one.”

“Am I going to eat a bunny?”

“Or a squirrel,” Jared jokes, earning no amused faces in return. “You all need a new sense of humor,” he mumbles, crossing his arms.

“How do you feel?” Sam asks.

“Like I’m on an emotional roller coaster.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry for Em’s food.”

Paul guides you to the table so you all can eat.

“Should we call the doc?” Embry wonders out loud.

“Don’t need to,” your imprint grumbles.

You run to the door, opening it. “I smell bunny.”

He chuckles, “it was the only thing we had.”

“Do I have to?”

“It will help with the urges.”

“There’s only one urge I have, and I don’t like it.”

“What?” Seth asks.

“Nobody tell him,” says Quil.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“I think it would be wise if you took this. We don’t know the severity of your condition yet.”

“I’m fine. Just trying to wrap my head around the fact that no one hates me.”

“We’re totally sorry, by the way,” Embry adds. “Ow!”

“Not my fault, man,” Jared raises his hands.

The two start to brawl, leaving Sam to try and stop it while Carlisle talks to you and Paul, explaining how you should be careful and thanking you for your assistance.

“I know I was a jerk to you but,” he glances over to Emily and Sam. “Would you ever consider accepting my apology and going out with me?”

“Give me a few days to adjust and then if I think I’m well enough, ask me again.”

“Hey, man. It wasn’t a no, alright,” Seth holds his hand up for a high five.

The hothead shoves the kid to the side, following you so he can sit in the open chair to your left.

Emily pours you a drink and sits down so you all can eat.

A few days later and you’re feeling better, still adjusting to everyone’s new attitude towards you.

You stick with more human meals than the animal blood the Cullen’s shared with you, not wanting to rely on it.

Things with Paul are still interesting.

He’s slowly worming his way back into your heart. “You want to go on patrol with me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Quil?”

“He wanted to switch.”

You stare at him with a deadpan expression. “Did you threaten him?”

He raises his hands. “I did nothing.”

“Sure, you did,” you chuckle. “Come on,” you call out.

“Where are you going?”

“We have to patrol.”

He stares at your bare back. “This reminds me of when I first took you out.”

“You barely asked me out and then kept me in your backseat after school.”

“I wanted you to stay warm.”

“Oh, is that what they call it?” You ask with mischief in your eyes.

He nods, pulling you back into him by your waist; his chin resting on your shoulder. “I actually kept you there so no one else would see you.”

“Wha-”

“Didn’t want them seeing the hottie in my car and think they could get with you.”

“What a gentleman,” you tell him with a dry tone.

He shrugs, chuckling under his breath, “I try.”

“Are you serious?”

“About what?”

You run behind a tree and shift, waiting for him to catch up; it doesn’t take him long.

“About what?”

“Not wanting anyone to ask me out.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“To get in my pants?”

“I was already getting with you.”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky. You’re still in the early stages of this relationship.”

“So, we’re in a relationship?”

“I never said that.”

He nudges you with his snout. “You did, don’t deny it.”

“I’m denying nothing. You need your hearing checked.”

“I think I heard you just fine.”

You roll your eyes and speed up, racing to meet the others; you meet Leah, Embry, and Jared.

The two former run to you and tackle you, playing around with you while Jared goes for Paul.

All of you run back to Emily’s when Sam calls you all back.

The air flowing through your fur is amazing, not to mention the fact that you’re getting to know your imprint, slowly but surely falling for him.

#twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #twilight x you #twilight x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote imagines #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote fanfiction #crazyk-imagine

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atinylittlepain · 1 month

Text

Part Two

no outbreak!joel miller x f!oc

series playlist

joel miller masterlist

series masterlist

She's tired. He's tired. They're neurotic. They're in love. Something needs to change. They need to change.

word count | 5.1k

chapter content info | 18+ little angst, couples counseling, just two tired people trying to figure out the tangle of their relationship together

a/n | part two is here, and i'd just like to say thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part - i know this isnt the usual peepaw fare, so thanks for giving her a chance - and also big thank you to @wannab-urs for beta-ing this bad boy <3

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This is not a failure. She is not failing. They are not failing. Every Thursday at four o’clock she shuts her laptop and locks her office and stops in the bathroom at work, silently repeats these things to herself in her mind while she rubs her fingers at smudged mascara in the bathroom mirror. Like a mantra, though she’s not sure she’s fully bought into it yet. Because the truth is, she has had plenty of conversations with plenty of girlfriends that, really, they shouldn’t have been having about other girlfriends, not in the room with us girlfriends who, did you hear, started going to therapy and, did you hear, started going to therapy with their, oh no, husbands. Yes, she has been the bitch who has made jokes about death knells and a marriage’s last gasp for breath, jokes about the husband having the emotional range of a goldfish, and the wife being so up the husband’s ass she should give him a colonoscopy while she’s at it. She’s not really making jokes like those anymore.

She’s not supposed to be doing what she’s doing this Thursday at four o’clock. When they first went to Vicky (LMFT, for the record) her fundamental decree had been a period of full separation. Sixteen years, she had asked, and they had nodded, and she had said whoa boy, yeah, y’all need to back off each other before we do anything else. If Paula Dean had a penchant for self-help instead of butter, she’d be something like Vicky. And so, with all the care of a drill sergeant delivering commands, or a mechanic running a diagnostic on a fucked-up car, Vicky had told them how this is going to go. An apartment, she said, don’t care which one of you lives in it. Minimal contact between sessions, right, keep it civil, right, this isn’t for forever, right. So Joel got an apartment, and Tommy helped him move all the furniture in the basement with admittedly minimal, but still present, wariness, and for the last four weeks they’ve been doing everything their beloved herr-therapist tells them. She supposes it’s working, although you can’t really do much fighting when you only see the other person for ninety minutes every Thursday so, the results might be confounded, actually.

“Hey there.” Hey there? What the fuck, what the actual fuck. He doesn’t think he’s ever said those words to her, ever, maybe not to anyone actually. He feels a little insane, a little itchy under the skin, mouth full of cotton, brain too, because they’re not supposed to be doing this, not really. The first time she’s seen the apartment, or, well, the doorway of the apartment, doesn’t really seem interested in stepping further inside, running her curled palm up and down the strap of her purse and right, not here for that. He shuts the door behind him and then they’re on their way to therapy because it’s four o’clock on Thursday and this is what they do now at four o’clock on Thursday.

“Thanks again. I didn’t think my car would still be in the shop today.”

“Oh of course, you said it’s a transmission leak?”

“Yeah, the bad, expensive kind that’s above my paygrade. Guy said they’re still waiting on a part for it.”

“Well I’m off work tomorrow if you need a ride anywhere.”

“Vicky’ll get pissed.”

“If she finds out. Are you gonna tell on me to Vicky?” It’s a joke, they can joke, right? She laughs a little on the end of her words to make it clear, hey, it’s a joke, awkward and out of touch and unsure of what the rules are. But he offers a breath of a laugh, at least, fine, it’s fine, they’re fine, and now they’re silent driving to Vicky’s office.

Should he ask her how her week has been? If the kitchen sink is still leaking? He’s not sure. Not sure about any of it, really. Every week, Vicky asks them how they think they’re doing and Cass doesn’t even hesitate. Good, she says. Not fine, not okay, but good, usually with a sure, terse nod. It takes him a little longer to find the right word to describe how he’s doing. Not sure about that either, but it’s definitely not good. Some things are better, sure, easier not to argue when under foot, easier not to remember all the ghosts they’ve built up around themselves. But at the most basic level, he misses her, even misses arguing with her, in a perpetual state of missing something, walking around and wondering if he left his wallet at home, or if he remembered to call a client about a new build, wondering if he’s missing something essential, a limb or an organ he didn’t know about. No, none of that. Missing something else.

“You’re not wearing your ring.” She flexes her left hand over the steering wheel in response, her very bare ring finger making him feel a quick pinch of something he’ll call anger, though it’s probably something else entirely.

“No, Vicky advised I try not wearing it during the separation.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you to do that?”

“Joel.”

“I’m just asking.”

“You’re swearing.”

“Well, why didn’t she say the same thing to me?”

“Maybe because I told her this is how you would react.”

“I think I’m having a pretty normal reaction to it, actually.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just for now.”

“Right.”

“It is.”

“Seems like a strange thing to advise someone to do when they’ve been married for nearly two decades.” She parks outside of the office complex that Vicky works in, lets out a long sigh through her nose and doesn’t spare him a glance as she reaches around to the backseat and pulls her purse up front, producing her ring from somewhere deep inside of it and sliding it back on her finger.

“There, are you happy now?”

“Why the hell were you keeping it in your purse?”

“Oh my god, really?”

“That’s a real easy way to lose it is all I’m saying.” The truth is, she’s been keeping it in her purse in order to have easy access to it. Like a pulsepoint, sometimes she just needs to know it’s there, reaching into her purse underneath her desk and yep, still there, still okay. Sometimes she doesn’t get through a whole day without putting it back on. Like reflex, like ghost limb aching. But she’s not about to tell him that.

“Do not bring this up with Vicky.”

“Why not?”

“Because then she’ll know we drove here together.”

“You’re that worried about what Vicky thinks?”

“She’s our therapist, I’m a healthy and appropriate amount worried about what Vicky thinks.”

“You know she’s not the arbiter of marriage just because she has a couple of degrees, right?”

“Really, the arbiter of marriage?”

“Are you doing that thing you do, is that what this is?”

“What thing?”

“Cass.”

“What thing?”

“Are you trying to win therapy?” Fuck him. No, really, fuck him. He’s doing that thing, his thing to her thing, half a smile in the passenger’s seat like he’s got her. Awful, of course he’s got her, smug and sure in his getting her. She doesn’t answer his question, knowing that her silence is an answer in and of itself and not really caring because they have therapy, damn it, and it’s going to be his fault if they’re late to therapy, damn it.

“You know, I’m starting to see why Vicky told us no carpooling to sessions.” Slammed shut, he sighs when she gets out of the car, thinking idly to himself that yes, he doesn’t necessarily disagree with that commandment of their therapist either. At the very least, Cass’ ring is still on her finger. He tried a few times in the past to get her something new, something nicer than the gold band he had given her when they were still young and still not able to afford much of anything, but sure enough in each other to want to keep doing it, all of it, together. No, she would tell him, doesn’t want anything other than the gold band. What she doesn’t know is that he pawned his grandfather’s watch and an electric saw for the ring the shop owner kept in a padlocked display case. Twenty-six years old, and looking back, he thinks he would have sold a whole lot more just to get it for her.

He used to call her pearl. Something about grit that would make her roll her eyes and ask him what late night National Geographic TV special he got that line from, all the while inwardly swooning because sure, she had been baby before, babe, an errant sweetheart even, but pearl was new, and tooth-decayingly sweet. And when he proposed, Sarah bouncing around them like a manic cupid, Cassandra made an ugly sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, little black velvet box and a ring that was more signet than wedding, simple and gold and a single pearl set in the center of it. Her hands clasped, she runs the pad of her finger over her ring, wordless and worrying it on the elevator ride up to Vicky’s office.

Vicky has a thing for lamps and art prints of naked women. Her waiting room is a little dim, no windows, green velveteen loveseat and two high-backed wooden chairs that they always take when they get here, his eyes scanning over the coffee table laden with back-ordered Psychology Today magazines, headlines about overcoming anxiety and exercising your way out of depression. There had been one about postpartum depression somewhere in the pile the last time they came, but he had made a point of hanging back after Cass left, some excuse about checking an insurance thing with Vicky, though what he really did was pluck out that magazine and throw it away in the men’s restroom down the hall. One less thing to worry about, at the least.

“Hi, you two, come on back.” The sessions always start the same. Vicky asks them how they think the week went, and they both offer up some iteration of fine. Vicky asks them if they’ve been upholding their phase of separation, and she answers before Joel can, pointedly not looking at him, yes, no contact between sessions. But apparently, this week is going to be different.

“We are nearing the end of the total separation phase. After this initial period of cooling off for both of you, the real work can begin.” Right, phases, because Vicky works in phases like this is some sort of military siege. He tries not to roll his eyes at the real work beginning.

“Can either of you remember the last date you went on together?”

“It would’ve been in August, right before the separation.” Cass scoffs at his answer, tilt of her head like, really?

“Tommy and Maria’s baby shower hardly counts as a date. But we did go to dinner at the end of July.”

“I don’t think your work banquet counts either.” Vicky hits them with that look, that yeah, that’s what I thought look, all raised brow and scrunched nose and nodding. Not that she is, but if she, hypothetically, were trying to win therapy, Cassandra thinks she wouldn’t be doing a great job of it right now.

“Right, well, you’ve made my point for me. It’s not unusual for people who have been together for as long as you two have to let things like this fall to the wayside. However, it can be very helpful to reestablish some of these routines. Think of it as marriage maintenance.”

“So you want us to start going on dates again?”

“Yes, but not with each other.” Did she? Did he? Hear that right? Cass is nodding like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world, like, yes, of course, this is just the solution they’ve been looking for. This time, he doesn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of them look at him like, yes, keep up, please, let us explain this to you very slowly so you can keep up, please. Something about seeing what life is like outside of their marriage, testing the waters, seeing if they still like the same things without their extra marital limb, something about making a decision about their marriage, though he tunes most of that part out because, no, thanks, no new decision has been needed since he got down on one knee during that trip to Galveston, sunscreen and sticky sweet and he’s not sure if he or Sarah was more excited, but he was definitely more nervous. And Cass said yes, and then he wasn’t nervous anymore, not scared anymore, and that’s all there was to it, is to it, right? Right.

“This is the closing exercise of the total separation phase. It’s really important that you both have this opportunity to see what it’s like to be back in the dating pool. Think of it as a trial run of if you decide to make this separation–”

“No, no thanks. That’s not– we’re not those people, so, you know, we can just move onto the next phase.”

“Joel.” The mom voice of all things, and he knows for certain now that Cass is trying to win therapy, nudging her shoe into the side of his, and, come on, really? She’s really bought that hard into what Vicky’s selling? Now that, that isn’t like her, at all.

“What feelings are coming up for you right now, Joel?” She fucking hates that question, and she imagines that he does too, fingers drumming on his knee, long sigh, and she knows that look, that’s his getting ready to bolt look. Big man, big, skittish man who has accidentally nailed his fingers to house frames and hardly shed a tear. But feelings? Yeah, forget it.

“Uh, I guess I’m confused as to why that is so important for us to do. We came here to help our– to help us, not to create more problems.”

“And you think that if you and Cassandra went on dates, one date, with other people, that it would create more problems in your marriage?” Well, it’s hardly rocket science, Vicky, though judging by the way she’s speaking to him, he’s pretty sure he failed some kind of test of hers. He doesn’t particularly care.

“I imagine it’d do that to anyone’s marriage.”

“It’s just one date, it’s a part of the process.” She’s starting to get pissed, and trying very hard not to show it in front of Vicky should she get the what feelings are coming up for you treatment. When they agreed to start going to therapy, like a pair of dogs gagging down a pill, they had both agreed to put their full effort into it, and if Vicky wasn’t in the room with them currently, Cassandra would sharply remind him of that agreement.

“Maybe I should clarify the expectations around this exercise. It’s one date, preferably with people outside of your shared social circle, and it would be best if the focus is just on the date, no sexual relations.”

“Oh really, you think that’d be best?”

“Joel.” He gives her a slack and slanted look, speaking two different languages, apparently. And really, she doesn’t see what the big deal is. One date versus sixteen years is pretty obvious math for her to square up, though it doesn’t seem to be for him. But, watching him engage in psychological tennis with Vicky, some new jab dripping in sarcasm for every reassurance she tries to offer him, the realization comes to Cassandra slowly, simply. Joel is scared.

By the time they leave Vicky’s office, he feels deflated, defeated, because yes, they are, apparently, going to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them, scheduled in three weeks instead of one to give them time to do this fucking exercise that fucking Vicky has fucking assigned to them.

“Can’t we just, you know, say we did it but not actually do it?”

“Are you serious right now?” Judging by the look she gives him, a quick, sharp flicker of her eyes before she focuses back on the road, he thinks he probably shouldn’t say anything else. He shouldn’t, but, well.

“Is this about pleasing Vicky, or are you just that interested in dating someone else?”

“Don’t be a child about this, Joel. It’s a therapeutic–”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. I don’t– I already know what I want, and I don’t need to go testing the waters to be sure of it. What I’m not so sure about is if you can say the same.” She can’t put her finger on anything specific, probably just a slow-building amalgamation of things. Stressful week at work, and the leaking sink getting worse, and her doctor increasing a medication dosage that’s made her body feel like something other than her body, and this fucking therapy and this fucking trying and she’s trying so hard and she feels like she’s failing and when she glances at him he looks hurt, really hurt, a close crumple in his face, deep frown, and it frustrates her because all she’s trying to do is do it right, and all she gets is this constant rhythm of resistance, this push and pull and yes, it’s all of that, all of that creeping up her throat tight and hot and curling behind her eyes sending salt pinpricks and sharp pangs. When the first sob breaks, it does so as a gasp, like a small and stunned thing in her chest. And, well, it’s never uphill from there, is it?

“Do you– do we need to pull over?”

“No, I don’t need to fucking pull over. I’m not an invalid, I can cry and drive at the same time.” Except it doesn’t come out quite like that, not smooth like that. The words get stop-started with each new shudder, new stutter, hiccuping on fucking and invalid. The world has gone to slanted stained-glass through all her tears.

Unsure what to do, but that’s nothing new. He doesn’t say anything else, watches her through the wary side of his eye, sobs turning into something more subdued, little wounded sounds high in her throat, a choice fuck you with a little more bite behind it when someone cuts her off merging onto the highway. He feels useless, feels like, maybe, this is what Vicky should be talking with them about instead of her siege on marriage plan. All he knows is that he seems to get it wrong every time, so this time, he doesn’t interject or intervene, doesn’t say any more than he already has. He lets her cry, and he lets her drive.

He doesn’t know when it happened. When he decided he was going to fix things for her, or just fix her, really. His lady in pieces and he was going to put her back together, and it seemed like every time he tried to, she just shattered a little more. That April is the obvious answer, the most shattered he had ever seen her. But the fighting had started before then, and so had the fixing that wasn’t really fixing. Like a relief, like a release, the slow realization that no, it never worked, and no, it was never going to work. The sobs turn into shivers turn into something even smaller. By the time they pull up in front of his apartment complex, it has passed.

“I just– I want to do this right, this therapy thing, and I want it to work, and I want it to work so we can be okay again. That’s what I want.” The words hang between them. He makes no move to get out of the car, and she counts her inhales in the silence, waiting for him to say something, anything. It feels like a child’s logic, or maybe a hail Mary, and she knows it, feels a little insane saying it, the words fitting strangely in her mouth. The brief wondering comes to her, what would she have said about where they are now to her girlfriends, what snark, what sharp jokes at their expense? Him in an apartment and a fifteen minute drive separating them and a woman named Vicky unraveling (and in theory, putting back together) their marriage in phases, fucking phases, and fucking Vicky. She doesn’t want to go on a date with someone else, and she doesn’t know why she’s taking Vicky’s instructions as gospel. But she does know, doesn’t she? It’s not about Vicky, not about Vicky and her fucking phases. Fixing, being fixed, that’s what she wants.

“So, you’re saying you want us to date other people in order to fix our marriage.” Grateful that she takes it for the joke he meant it as, it’s just enough to slough off some of the tension, roll of her eyes, please. They both let out a sigh, too tired for much else. But maybe, he thinks, this counts as progress, sitting here with her in the car and the sun washing everything down burnt and orange. He watches her eyes drop shut for a moment, fine lines like porcelain fissures and he loves those lines, liked catching her in the bathroom with her face pressed up close to the mirror and her fingers pulling those lines taut around her eyes, her mouth. He’d pull her hands away from her face, ask her if she was planning her halloween costume for next year, earning a scoff and a roll of her eyes and her trying to pull away from him, and he wouldn’t let her. Making it better with kisses to those lines, and eventually, her pressing her fingers as light as prayers over his, an implicit wondering, where did the time go?

“Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, let’s just lie to Vicky. We could still get like, an A-minus in therapy if we leave just one thing out.”

“I didn’t realize therapy came with a grade.” He smiles, all soft, and she can’t help the sheepish bloom in her chest, rolling her lips back into her mouth to hide her own grin, eventually, reluctantly, admitting in a quiet, skewed to the side voice, okay, so maybe, maybe I was doing that thing, that winning thing. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s a mercy. Just nods, of course, and of course, he knew, maybe even before she did, and is that knowing not a mercy too? She thinks it is.

“I want to do this right too, Cass. And, I mean, we’re paying Vicky enough money that we should do what she tells us to.”

“Are you saying you want to do it then?”

“Want is a strong word.”

“Okay, are you saying you’re willing to do it?”

“It’s just the one?”

“Just the one.”

“Alright, fuck it, let’s do it. We better get a goddamn A-plus at the end of this.”

“Mmm, gold stars too.” Another sigh, another settling. How nice, another sigh, another settling. It’s a strange equation, but she thinks it still adds up. Neither of them want to do this, not really, but they’re willing to, and they’re willing to because of each other. Willing to try and get it right for each other. Just, well, ignore the finer details of what getting it right entails.

“You hear from Sarah lately?”

“On Monday, yeah. Called to wish me a happy birthday.”

“Well, only off by four days, not too bad.”

“Oh no, she called on Monday because she was, and I quote, too busy the rest of the week to call.”

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“Is it bad that sometimes I kinda hate it?”

“Hate what?”

“That she’s like, a fully-formed person now. I miss the days when she was a little blob who liked holding onto me by one of my belt loops.” He has to smile, nod, because he knows exactly what she means. And the truth of it is that Sarah was so good, maybe the best, if he’s allowed to give his completely biased opinion. And the other truth, Cass is, was, one of those people simply meant to be a parent, a mother. He remembers when they first started dating, and all the exhausting maneuvering he did, getting his parents or Tommy to watch Sarah, a string of canceled dinner plans when his kid couldn’t seem to stop catching things at daycare. He was sure that Cass would lose interest every time another piece of his reality was revealed to her. After all, he was not unfamiliar with being left behind. But that never happened, she stayed every time.

It was Cass who first suggested it. Didn't want to impose, but what if, maybe we could, would it be okay if, why don’t we. They went to the zoo that weekend, if he remembers correctly, Sarah in tow, shy at first around the woman she barely knew, though she bloomed over the course of the day. Yes, he thinks, it was the zoo, because he remembers how by the end of the day, Cass had her on her hip, as easy as anything, so she could get a better view of the rhinos. He knows now that, even in those earliest days, she loved his kid just as much as she loved him. He knows now what a gift that was, and continues to be.

“She’s gonna be alright, Cass. We did good with her.” She sighs, yeah, we did. She had been worried about telling her about the whole lieutenant-LMFT thing, the whole quasi-separation thing, but that was a direct command from Vicky, letting the family know what was going on. Sarah had taken it surprisingly well when she called, could be good, mom, like a reset. Of course, they kept the worst of it away from her, and of course, she still knew something had changed, something not right between them. No one was left unscathed after that April.

From the start, loving him included loving Sarah. It was never difficult for her to do both. Sweet girl, bright like the sun girl, rounded cheeks and bouncing curls, and Cassandra found that her love for her had a particular effect on her heart. Whenever small hand reached for one of hers, whenever small face tucked into her neck, whether tear-damp or milk-tired, and eventually, whenever she was given the name mom, like a stop and restart of her heart, like something turning back on inside her and finally working right. An everything kind of love, to not only be chosen by him, but to be chosen by her too.

“Well, anyways, Vicky didn’t make any stipulations about birthdays, so I have something for you.” Just a small thing, she says, leaning over the console and into the back seat, and he knows better than to say no, shouldn’t have, because there’s already a perfect package being placed in his hands, navy blue wrapping paper and a white bow, and her hand cups underneath his for just a moment, there and gone.

The truth is she had already picked out this gift two months ago, what feels like a lifetime before this separation. Now, watching him open it, she’s a little worried it had been presumptuous of her, if not completely narcissistic. But if he thinks that, he makes no show of it, lets out a quiet laugh as he takes the watch out of the box and holds it up in the fading light to look at it.

“It’s a little sappy, maybe. But, well, we have something that kinda matches now.” Something is unfurling in his chest, heat loosening something he didn’t even realize he had been tightening up around. It’s a beautiful watch, rich leather strap and polished silver. And the face of it catches and shimmers a little in the light. He knows right away that it’s mother of pearl.

Here, she says, let me, and he does, feeling a little indulgent watching her fasten the watch around his wrist, and definitely breaking one of fucking Vicky’s fucking rules when he ducks his head down and steals a kiss, another one, letting the third deepen just a little, both of them humming because missed this, missed this, didn’t realize how much, but missed this.

“Thank you, pearly.” It feels good to be so close to him, noses brushing and smiles curling around each other. Feels like a relief.

“Happy birthday, one day ahead. We could, you know, do something tomorrow? Get dinner maybe?” Before he can answer, say yes, she’s already caught herself, sheepish smile and pulling a little further away and oh, right. She says sorry, wasn’t thinking, and they do an awkward dance around the whole thing, right, yeah, probably shouldn’t, right, yeah. He is not a hateful man, and it would be too strong to say he’d wish Vicky harm. But if something were to happen, in theory, that’d make Vicky go the fuck away, in theory, he wouldn’t be too torn up about it.

“See you next Thursday then?”

“Well, next next Thursday, because we have to do the– yeah.”

“Right, yeah.” Right, yeah, this is the part where he gets out of the car. The part where he goes up to his apartment and she drives home and they don’t eat dinner together and they don’t brush their teeth together and they don’t go to sleep together. Right, yeah. They say goodnight. He’d like to say love, but he doesn’t. She’d like to say love, but she doesn’t. And they part ways.

She hates being in this house alone. Leaves all the lights on all hours of the day and checks all the locks three times before going upstairs to bed. Passes by the closed door that remains closed with her breath held. She knows it makes no sense, but she’s been sleeping in the guestroom, makes the whole thing a little easier. Always had a tendency toward insomnia, tossing and turning brain and body.

When they were just starting to get more serious, and she was just starting to stay over at his more often, she got worried that eventually it'd drive him mad enough for the whole thing to not be worth it, neither of them getting much sleep as they learned how to share a bed together. And she doesn't remember how it started exactly, maybe out of a moment of pure exasperation, him draping just enough of his weight over her to press slower breath into her lungs and still her body. It became a routine, she'd ask could you? And he'd already know what she was asking for without her having to say any more than that. What she also doesn't remember, when that stopped working, when she stopped asking, and he stopped answering. She supposes it all happened slowly, just like the rest of it.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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courtingchaos · 1 year

Text

There’s Levels To This

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: oh my god It’s the beach episode! Dip your toes in kids, the water is fine. This is for my dearest @chestylarouxx who has me yearning on the daily for beach shenanigans with one Edward Munson.

Warnings: Just sex and drinking in the sun.

18+ NSFW No Minors

To say Eddie wasn’t your friend would be wrong. At every level he was dear to you, from a simple ride to work in the mornings all the way to your petty crimes partner now that the two of you were old enough to know better.

“A fall guy.” He’d said.

“Or at least someone with better eyesight.” He’d said, this time pushing your glasses back up your nose.

“Someone that has a getaway car.” He’d said while spinning his key ring around his finger. That callused digit bounces in the corner of your vision, thick and longer than yours. Nails bitten short with grime from the shop still under them.

You’re trying to hand the store over to the night manager and Eddie’s come in early. Beelined directly for you standing behind the elevated register and leaned all cool and carefree on your counter.

“I don’t want to get involved tonight Ed. Trying to leave town tomorrow if you remember.” You mutter at him while you try to finish counting the till.

“Well duh, I’m not gonna get us caught. We need to leave at what, 9?”

“We?” You lift your head and he reaches over and pushes your glasses up again.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” He gives you mischievous smile. “Your mom invited me. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

“What’d you do to butter her up this time?” You drop the pencil on the till log and shove your hands onto your hips.

“Nothing! I simply told her how Wayne was going on his fishing trip this week too and I was gonna be rotting around the trailer all…by…my lonesome…” He leans in, props his chin on his elbow and gives you big puppy eyes.

You haven’t fallen for those in about four years.

(This is a lie. One of many but this one is a repeat offender in your repertoire of excuses for Eddie Munson.)

“Rotting?” You jerk your hand in front of your hips. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” You grab the till and hand it over to your replacement and she gives you a nod and directs a long suffering sigh at your shadow.

“You think I wait for Wayne to leave town? Barely can wait to get home sometimes.” He grins. “Your bathroom is remarkably soundproof, did you know.”

You smack him in the chest with an old stack of magazines. “You’re a pig.”

“Yeah well what’s that make you?” He follows you to the back, management having long gotten over trying to tell him anything.

“The prize pony whose stall you keep breaking into.” You seethe at him. It’s all in good fun but he still pauses in the doorway and squints at you. He opens his mouth, plush lips forming around a word before he seems to think better of it. Runs his tongue along along his top teeth and leans again while you get your stuff together.

“Do you even have swim trunks?”

“No, that’s why we’re going to goodwill.”

“Please tell me we’re not stealing from goodwill today.” You ask when you walk past him again.

(You do this thing where you never ask him to move. He wouldn’t anyways but you always use this excuse to brush against him. You think he’s gonna complain about tits pushed into his chest? Ha.)

“God no. I wanted to break into Harrington’s pool.”

“Oh, a little B and E before we skip town?” You do a little shimmy and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. Running away to Florida with your mom and her boyfriend. So inconspicuous.”

Eddie finds the most obnoxious pair of neon pink trunks and you run him into the ground with your teasing.

“Between your pasty ass and these, you’re gonna blind those poor panhandle girls.”

“Listen pet, they’ve never seen something like me before. I’m gonna have jaws in the fuckin’ sand.” He keeps flicking through hangers of swimsuits and misses your face exploding through 10 expressions before you hack out a sound that makes his head whip up.

“Pet?!” The disgust is thick in your tone and on your face.

(Another fake out. The day Eddie stops giving you nicknames is the day you cease finding happiness.)

“Yeah you know what, I don’t like it either. I heard it somewhere and wanted to give it a shot.” He shakes his head and grimaces and quickly yanks a hanger to hold up the worlds tiniest bikini.

“Found your suit.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re slime.”

“Oh come on, you need something to wear to the beach. Unless you’re going stark because then I need to rethink my whole outfit.” He snorts and playfully tosses his suit over his shoulder onto the ground.

“I’ve already got one.”

“Aw, we didn’t even get to go shopping together!”

“Eddie?” You sigh and his head pops back up over the rack after picking up his dropped clothes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He drops you off at your house so you can finish packing and he goes to his trailer to start. You agree to be ready by 10 so it’s dark enough that Steve’s neighbors won’t call the cops.

(You spend the two hours mindlessly folding laundry and imaging all the tanned southern belles chasing after Eddie and his tattoos on white sand. When you try to pack your socks they’re shoved into tight balls and none of them match.)

“Is this even crime if Steve knows about it?”

“Steve doesn’t know when we’re going so yeah, still crime.”

The drive into Loch Nora is full of Eddie’s ‘songs about weed’ mix until you hit the neighborhood entrance and then Eddie kills the radio. He drives the speed limit and keeps the windows rolled up and slides seamlessly into the Harrington driveway like he belonged there. It isn’t long before you’re both shimmying over the fence and stripping clothes, leaving them like a trail to your crime scene. Eddie cannon balls into the deep end and you wade down the stairs slowly.

The water is hot like the air is hot, barely a difference between the wet and dry parts of you.

(The wet parts of you are definitely wetter when Eddie breaches the water. He’s got chlorine in his eyes so you get to stare longer at his curls flattening to his head. The blue light of the pool reflects off his pale skin and his tattoos come alive under moving water.)

“Oh okay good, I can still swim.” He sputters and runs his hands through his hair while he treads water. “Can’t be playing possum in front of the babes now can I?” He starts his slow paddle over to you until his feet touch the bottom and he can walk. The wet glistening on him has you clenching your hands under the water and hoping that he doesn’t see it.

(You’re good at this, the lying. To yourself and everyone else and especially to Eddie.)

“Is this the infamous bathing suit?” He flicks the zipper on your chest before miming an explosion around his head.

It’s a high necked, high cut one piece split down the front with a long black zipper. When you’d bought it you’d felt like the Babest Babe to ever Babe. Now though, with Eddie giving you an up and down glance you have some second thoughts.

Too much skin? Thigh? Ass? It’s no string bikini but it is tight and that zipper was hanging lower with every shift of your chest under the stretchy nylon.

“Gonna have to keep you in the cooler, baby.” He presses his finger into your bare shoulder and hisses. “Too hot.” He slinks backwards and falls in slow motion, arms spread outward to float.

(You notice it then and you think about it later, how he keeps his hips dipped below the water line. You won’t lie to yourself about keeping your eyes on him in the hopes you’d catch a glimpse of too tight trunks.)

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says to the night sky while he floats away from you.

You would if you could, but this isn’t that kind of relationship is it? Eddie is your friend, on every level imaginable.

Except that level that you don’t think about and keep locked in the basement of your imagination.

So you swim in Steve’s pool and Eddie pretends to be an alligator to try and pull you under.

He dives off the board and sits on the bottom of the pool to see how long he can hold his breath.

You sit on the edge and watch him wear himself out with laps and handstands and somersaults.

You sit and watch him glide through the pool like he was made from it.

You two get out of there without anyone noticing and he asks about the trip on the way back to your house. He asks about the drive and if your mom’s boyfriend will let him drive and what the hotel situation is like.

“Am I gonna have to share a bed with you?” He leans away from you, an overtly grossed out look shot at you. “You have those glacier feet and I’m not going to be held liable for any elbows in stomachs if they touch me.”

“You snore like a tractor.”

“But at least my feet don’t kill with their icy touch.”

Wayne drops Eddie off in the very early hours of 8 am. You can hear voices talking downstairs but then there’s heavy footsteps and then a huff and a shove of your shoulder and clammy skin pushing into your own sleep warm skin. Eddie smells like his morning cigarette and his peppermint toothpaste and for a fleeting moment you forget exactly what this is. That level you daren’t imagine is abruptly surface level and you roll back into him. Your nose smushes into his shoulder, your leg winds over his and you settle back into the pillow.

A solid few minutes of waking up and with every braincell that fires, your heart beats faster. He’s motionless like a corpse. Barely breathing judging by the little huffs against your pillow case.

“I am…so sorry.” The regret rolls off you and you shove off him to the other side of your bed, back pressed up against the wall.

“It’s okay I-“

“I was still asleep, I didn’t-“

“I shouldn’t have climbed in your bed unannounced.” He stares. You stare. The sheets between you two shift when you sit up and slide off the end of your bed to get up.

“I’m gonna uh…bathroom.” Stuttering and rubbing sleep out of your eyes you grab your pile of clothes and then sit in the bathroom for ten minutes.

(You lie the whole drive to Florida. 11 solid hours of kidding yourself, keeping a pillow shoved between yours and Eddie’s knees so your thighs won’t touch. Every pit stop you stare at him while he folds out from the back seat and think about wrapping your leg around him again.)

The motel is pink and blue and right on the water. The big arch that indicates the entrance to the beach welcomes you to Emerald Shores and while you don’t consider yourself a beach girl, it’s actually quite beautiful.

Your mom and her boyfriend have a room on the second floor and you and Eddie have been relegated to the bottom floor.

“Just call us peons and get it over with.” Eddie whispers at you from the corner of his mouth and you laugh before The Boyfriend can turn back around with your room keys.

Eddie spends all of ten minutes in the room before he just disappears while you’re in the shower. He comes back an hour later with a handful of shells and a pizza.

“What a resourceful Indiana raccoon you are.”

“Yes, and if I didn’t forage for us, who would?” He tosses the box on the bed next to your legs and you don’t miss his lingering stare on your calves. He covers it with a nod and a joke.

“You better wear socks tonight. I’ve already got the A/C set to 65, I don’t need you putting me on ice too.”

(You withhold the truth from Eddie the next morning by not waking him when you wake at 6 AM and find him latched around your middle.)

Eddie rents a spot with two chairs and an umbrella and he gets to talk to every girl walking the shore that afternoon. You’ve been alternating between PBR’s and waters and now to avoid the dark cloud trying to damped your mood you ratchet the chair back and scoot out from under the umbrella to take a nap. Eddie asks about 100 times if you remembered sunscreen and you tell him 101 times that yes you did and no you don’t need him to reapply it for you.

(Yes you do! If you’d stop being insane for two seconds you could have his hands on your back and over your shoulders and up along the high cut of your hip and maybe he’d dip those musicians fingers behind your convenient zipper and-)

“You might want to pull your zipper up then.”

You peak one eye open to stare down at your chest. From this angle your don’t have cleavage so much as a valley but the zipper on your suit has popped down a few more teeth and Eddie seems to have noticed.

“I just don’t want you burning is all.” He sniffs. You roll your head to look at him and catch his quick shift of attention away from you.

In your light napping you hear a few voices asking Eddie where he’s from and if his tattoos hurt. One girl says she loves his hair, “especially tied back like that, so cute.”

Another girl asks about his girlfriend.

“Oh her?”

You imagine he points over his shoulder at you with a big thumb.

“Yeah. You sure she doesn’t mind you talking to me?”

You’d love to sit up and point out that you’re awake and also that she walked up to him but Eddie beats you to it.

“Oh this is all a cover. She’s actually scoping out this beach.” He gets a conspiratorial lilt to his voice and you imagine he’s leaning forward and turning on his Munson Charm.

“For what?” Mystery girl number 10 asks.

“She’s an international jewel thief and she’s heard there’s some real old money around here.”

You snort and alert them that you are, in fact, listening.

“Wait, seriously?” Suddenly this girl sounds wary. She makes up an excuse and scampers off down the beach back to her tan friends.

“Swing and a miss, Munster.”

“No. I made you laugh didn’t I?”

If Eddie has to watch that zipper unzip another zip he’s also going to unzip all of his zips.

It’s hot, and he and his brain have been baking under the sun but he refuses to leave. With you laid out in that fucking bathing suit he can’t miss a single moment of you in it. He’s on his…sixth, maybe eighth beer and his looks get longer with every empty in the cooler. He can make out the tan line on your hip when you roll over and he almost inhales the last of his drink because you’re all legs and ass. He can’t wait for later when you’ll be laid out after your shower, shorts hitched up from you sliding down the comforter and he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of that darkening line along your butt.

“Fucking hell…”

“You wanna head back in?”

(He does. He really does. He’ll carry the cooler and his towel in front of himself to hide his eagerness. He’ll carry your shit too just to watch you walk unencumbered in front of him, leading the way back to the air conditioned heaven and your thin pajamas.)

Three days in, two left to go and Eddie has decided he’s done lying to himself. He watches you every afternoon out in the sun in your bathing suit or the worlds shortest shorts and the most cropped band tees that he thinks might have been his at some point. He watches you run and roll over sand and wade cautiously into the ocean. There’s this part of your stomach he’s positive he’s never seen before and he watches very closely for the soft roll of it to peak out from under your shirts.

(He’s wanted to sink his teeth into you for a while but this new body part makes his teeth hurt. He drools after your thighs and dreams of digging his fingers into the soft dough of your ass. He imagines while he watches you stretched out on your towel that you’d be so soft in all those hidden places and he imagines so long he lets his beer go hot in the sand.)

He walks to cheap little gas stations over hot asphalt and hotter sand to get beer with you. He’d worry you two were going a little hard in the paint but it’s Florida where it’s practically state law that you drink shitty beer by the 12 pack, daily, if your staying on the beach front.

He follows you around like a loyal hound and acts like a guard dog when these fucking dudes start sniffing around you. Tall and tan and smelling like sunscreen and ocean. Eddie walks close behind, your constant second shadow and these fucking dudes get the hint when he glowers at them.

“I don’t think Floridians take too kindly to us midlanders.” You chew on a fry thoughtfully, knee hugged to your chest.

“What do you mean?” Eddie is finally drinking water after two days and a midnight migraine reminded him why you can’t just exist off of piss water beer.

“That girl the other day didn’t think you were funny which, come on.” You roll your eyes and say it like it’s so obvious how funny he his and he’s instantly convinced he could chuckle his way into your cutoffs. “And these dudes, they practically cross the street when we walk down the same sidewalk.”

Eddie just hums at you and finishes his water. He watches you wipe your fingers on your rapidly darkening thigh and he wants to lick the salt and sunscreen off your skin.

You find this little seafood place for dinner and Eddie is surprised he even sees your mom and her boyfriend show up. They’re not unwelcome but he’s sure they haven’t left their room since they arrived.

He has to put real shoes on which throws him for a loop but it’s not fancy. Neither of you are that, especially after almost four days of bumming it at the beach and being mildly drunk for most of it. He’s still watching everything you do, convinced and baptized in the Florida sun and sand that he can tell you his truth finally.

He waits for a break in your conversation with your mom to tap his index finger on your knee. “Can we go to the gas station before we head back?”

“Of course. Need more beer?” You nod as you ask. “I don’t know if we’ve had our daily allotment.”

He laughs through his nose and when you turn back to answer your moms question his stomach does a nervous flip and he doesn’t trust the shrimp on his plate anymore.

“You didn’t finish your dinner.”

“Okay mom.”

“I just wanted to know if everything was okay. You’ve been quiet today.” You stroll beside him, sandals in hand while he carries a fifth of southern comfort that he nervously bounces against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “just taking it all in a guess?” The sunset paints the horizon in a way that is alien to the sunsets in Hawkins. “It’s pretty.” He says that to the side of your head while you look at the sky over the ocean. Even in his shorts and his chopped up tee he’s sweating but the breeze coming off the beach tells him this is all nerves and maybe he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” You stop at one of the entrances and nod your head over, soft smile laid out on your face.

“Sure.”

The light paints both of you in a soft pink light and Eddie really needs to buy your mom something, anything to show his appreciation for the invitation. He could have missed out on this, instead probably working overtime at the auto shop and drinking sadly by himself, counting down time till you or Wayne got home.

Instead he gets to watch you walk ahead of him and lead the way to a tall fishing pier. He watches you kick the sand around and look for shells to add to your new collection.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t turn around, just trust that the wind will blow your question to him.

“Anything.”

You only stop when you get to one of the massive pilings, turning to lean your shoulder into it above the mess of barnacles. You stare at him, raking your eyes over his body and when he’s about to open his mouth you ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He’s 23 and not never kissed, just never been asked. Your open look shows your sincerity, eyes shining in the waning light, lip worried at by your teeth. He wants to sooth those nerves and kiss the salt air off of you. He chuckles, a light huff through his nose.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes light up as you get closer, dropping your handful of things into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to…for a while.”

“It’s not just my laissez-faire beach attitude drawing you in?” He drops the bottle behind him.

“No.” You smile before you kiss him. Soft hands on the side of his face bring him down and in, his curtain of hair blocking out the rest of the world. His lips are plush and a little chapped when they touch yours, damp from him nervously licking them before you’d bridged the gap. His hands find homes on your waist and he doesn’t miss the small sound you make when his fingers creep up under your shirt. You hold on to his face and push up into him and for a moment, he forgets you’re both on a public beach. He lets his hands wander to those hidden places and eats up your groans that you place directly in his mouth. It’s only when he hears the distant roar of an approaching atv that he comes to. Reluctantly breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“Can we go-“

“Yes, please.” You snatch your things off the sand and start walking back towards the motel, his hand clutched tightly in yours.

Later he’ll come out of the bathroom still shaking sand out of his hair even after his shower, to find you watching tv. Still naked but wound up in the starchy sheets, one long leg left out so he can stare.

(That’s where he’d started as soon as the door closed. Backed you right up against the bed till you fell and he followed your leg up to your knee up to your hip, kissing off the sand and the salt and your sunscreen like he promised. He calls you sweetheart and beautiful and sweet like honey and he gets to watch you preen under his words.)

“Have a good shower?” You’re soft and relaxed into the bed, biting on a nail and watching him.

“Eh, so-so.” He didn’t bother with a towel, you’ve just seen him and he intends on you seeing him more.

(He was right. He was able to laugh you right out of your shorts. Nervous giggles while he inched up your stomach, tongue tasting soft skin and dipping in along your bellybutton. Like magic you were out of your shorts and out of your top and he’d had an idea that you weren’t wearing a bra but the light v of tanned skin between your breast makes him pause all the same.)

“Water pressure no good?”

“No, I still have fucking sand everywhere.” He kneels on the bed to slowly crawl over to you.

(He likes how you watch him. He realizes when he has one pebbled nipple in his mouth that you’ve been watching him for longer than today. Your heavy gaze directed down at him while he licks and nips at thin skin. He grabs and gropes your breast and you sigh and he thinks about buying this motel and never leaving.)

“Oh I’m sorry baby.” You coo at him. He hovers over you and shakes his hair above you.

“See?” And you squeal as sand litters the pillow.

(Your noises kill him softly. He’s heard you laugh and groan and yell before but not like this. Your laugh when he kisses up your neck sounds different that before. When he slides your underwear off and wastes no time pushing his fingers into your wet heat, that groan is deep in your throat. He’s not even fully undressed before he has you undone, loudly yelling his name and clutching his arm while he abuses that spot deep inside that makes you gush over his palm.)

“What the fuck Eddie!” You slap at him to get him off but he drops his weight and pins you in place. You still smell like sunscreen and ocean and cheap beer and he swears he’ll find a way to bottle it.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says sincerely.

(He can’t leave actually because this is the room where he got to touch you. A hundred kisses before he even gets his pants off, 50 more before your hands pull him from his boxers, another dozen or so while you lazily run your hand up and down his length and one final one before he pushes into you slow. He forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch. Your gasping and your reaching. The way you bounce under him when grabs the headboard for leverage and soundproofing.)

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You sound sad as you card your fingers through his drying curls.

“I mean…Hawkins can be kind of nice too. If you want.” His chest is tight when he asks his non question. Drops his truth out into the open like that.

(That tight feeling isn’t new, he’s always gotten that with you. Now though the levels are all different. You’ve kissed him and made him cum hot across your belly and you keep holding on to his head like he’s something precious to be kept safe and and and-)

“Hawkins can be nice.” Simple agreement makes his heart swell. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes into you. You shimmy around to get the blankets over both you and Eddie’s dead weight. He plays with the ends of your hair laying against the pillow, white sand flecks sparkling in the dim motel lighting and decides he’s seen enough of the beach this week.

(You don’t lie to him much anymore, just enough to keep his ego in check. If he had any idea just how deep it all went, you’d never be able to pull him off the ceiling. He’s still a pig and he’s still slime but he’s your pig and your little plastic trash can container of slime. You’d be lying if you said Eddie wasn’t your friend, but the levels got all gummed up with sand and shells and now you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.)

((Sacrifice for the read more))

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson Fluff #My Work #My Fic

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Text

Osamu is not the partying type.

Yes, he knows how to have a good time, be able to put back a few and let loose with his old buddies from volleyball, when his employees hit a milestone or a birthday, he’s always been able to monitor just how much he’s drinking to keep a level head.

But for as much as Osamu could drink? Easily tripled by the challenge of Sunarin or Atsumu.

And tonight, when the former helps an inebriated Osamu past the threshold into your home with the cockiest smirk on his face, you know Atsumu is just as drunk in the back of Aran’s car.

“Does the shop needed to be closed tomorrow?” You grumble, and Rintaro shrugs as he passes your boyfriend to your shoulder.

“Kita-San insisted on cleaning up- granted it was Atsumu’s puke, but the restaurant’s clean none the less, if you had to open.”

“Gonna literally kiss him on the mouth,” you sigh, nodding a smile to Suna. “Thanks for getting him home alive.”

“No worries. Just make sure he drinks plenty of water. Drank Atsumu under the whole damn table.”

“Will do. Get home safe, hun.”

With that, the middle blocker parts, leaving you with the inebriated chef who towers over you, despite swaying and leaning 98% of his weight on you.

Great.

“Fucking asshole,” you grumble. “Was only having a few drinks and taking an Uber too much for you to handle-“

“My girlfriend doesn’t like me taking Uber’s,” Osamu says as sternly as he could. “Says they’re dangerous.”

You chuckle at his words, echoed from you every time he suggests it.

“Your girlfriend sounds like a really smart lady.” He leans his entire weight on you now, and you grunt softly as you aide him in the house, tripping over his own feet as you both waddle.

“Awwww yeah,” Osamu assures proudly. “So smart... like the other day I lost my earbuds...” his voice trails off in the middle of his story, as if he forgot the timeline. “And she’s got these like, boobs...” he smiles dopily as he remembers your… features, and you offer him a full blown laugh and a smack against his chest. Wide eyes flick down to your frame, and he blanches- as much as he could, his cheeks were a scarlet flush from the alcohol- at your touch.

“No thanks,” he pouts. “I ‘ave a girlfriend… ‘nd she’ll come fight you if you touch me…” he gathers your hands in his before messily shoving them back towards your chest, “is not you- is me. I love her. ‘N she’ll fight you.”

Is that what he tells people?

“Your girlfriend doesn’t scare me,” you snort, plopping him down on the couch while he giggles a soft “whee!” You shake your head as you help him take off his shoes, “maybe she shouldn’t let such a handsome man go out all by himself.”

“She loves me!” He pouts. Not that that’s what you said, but sure. “Here, I’ll give her a call right now, ‘nd she’ll make you cry.”

“Go for it, baby.”

He gives you a scowl and clumsily clicks at his phone, eyes crossing every once in a while from the brightness. He passes you his phone, “can… can you j’ss click her?? She’s under ‘wifey.’” Sure enough, as you take his phone and scroll through the texts he’s sent through the night, and your heart flutters at the sight of your contact name: Wifey 🌹💍

With a smirk, you click the contact and call yourself, staring back at osamu when just a few feet away, your phone buzzes on the couch. His head lazily lulls over to see it, “yer already on the phone, I’ll get it-“ he clicks the big, green answer button. “Hello?”

“Osamu?”

“Baby!” He yells in the receiver. “Save me, I got this lady tryna take off my pants!” He gives you another glare, and you poke your tongue in your cheek. “Told her that you’d come fight her so…”

“Is she pretty?”

At your question, Osamu’s jaw slacks and opens repeatedly, incredulously trying to find the words that could convey his emotions for the question. “B-Baby!”

“Osamu-“

“That doesn’t matter! I’m not Assmu, ‘m loyal! You gonna come fight fer me or what?”

“Oh my god-“ you hang up his phone and toss it back to him, grabbing yours from his weak grip. “Sweetheart, I’m your girlfriend,” you remind him, pulling your phone out and showing him your lock screen. Eyes flick between you and the picture, and clearly he’s very confused how you caught this without his consent. You roll your eyes and promptly show him his own lock screen, which is you both at an MSBY game. “See? You love me or something, remember?”

Then, his thick brows furrow, and his head rolls around his neck as if shaking for the memories of you two together.

“Waitta minute,” he says suspiciously, leaning back fully against the couch. “You’re ma girlfriend?” Grey eyes glaze over you, and you wonder if this will lead to a brawl in the morning, or if it’s a genuine question that just so happens to sound like he’s disappointed.

“Yeah,” you scoff. “You got a problem with that?”

His eyes flick over you one more time, and a slow smirk splays on his face- you know he thinks he’s putting the moves on you, but it’s so hard to not just laugh in his face as he’s doing so.

“Fuckin’ score dawg,” he says to himself, raising one hand before using the other to give himself a high-five. You’re unable to fight the snort that pulls from your mouth, collapsing against him while you laugh in his chest. “‘M gonna tell my brother,” he hiccups. “Gonna be soooo pissed that I got such a pretty girlfriend…”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that Atsumu actually set you two up, so you let his drunken mind formulate a fake scenario that he will no doubt forget come following the nauseating hangover in the morning.

But that’s okay; even drunk enough to be concerning, it makes you happy to know Osamu still is loyal to a fault, telling other women about you and trying his best to make you sound scary.

Even if you are the other woman, apparently.

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imaginesandbandfiction · 5 months

Text

Triad Part 2 — Aftermath of the Mating Bond

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Masterlist

A/N: Here’s another part of my Cazriel x Reader headcanon universe that probably needs a better name if I’m gonna keep up with it. Validation works everyone!!! Also you’re def in Mor’s room because they couldn’t agree on whose room to go to and had to take you to neutral territory bc they are big dumb idiots.

PART 0 PART 1

You wake up at the Townhouse, in Mor’s room, completely alone. It feels like you’re being torn in two from the inside out.

In the hallway, Cas and Az sit with their backs against the wall on either side of the door, arguing in barely-audible whispers.

“We can’t go in there,” Az hisses.

“It’s been fourteen hours! We should at least try to use the bond to help,” Cassian grumbles back.

Yet somehow you can hear them through the wall; a ghost of their words kisses your ears.

“It’s Y/N’s choice whether to accept or not. We cannot take that choice away from her.”

“How long are we going to wait out here? Until she dies?”

You curl up on your side and press your hands against your ears. Your body shakes with the conflicting magics rumbling through you.

“Amren and Mor are digging up everything they can find about Triad Bonds. If there’s anyone I trust to track something down, it’s those two.”

“How long will that take? A week? A month? A year? I can’t sit back for much longer. Not all of us have mountains of patience like you.”

“No, some have thimbles.”

Fighting. They’re fighting and, somehow, your magic is fighting alongside with them, split from a deep violet into strings of blue and red that battle for dominance. Surrounded by golden flames that burn through your veins, filling them with the sharp sting of lightning.

“Clear your mind, like I told you. Conjure up your shields.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, like it’s that easy.”

“STOP!” You scream. When the boys burst in, your back is arched so far that only your fingertips and your toes are touching the bed.

“Y/N,” Cassian shouts, diving for you. Azriel’s shadows reach you first, swirling up your legs and arms. Cold snakes its way towards your heart, soothing your burning magic like putting a hot bath on an aching muscle. It can only dull what’s already there.

Cassian pulls you to his chest and falls back onto the bed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers, shoving the sweaty hairs off your forehead. “We’re here, Angel.”

The red magic is swallowed back into purple and the pain eases up a little bit, freeing your mind from the hazy fog covering it.

“Wh-what’s happening to me?” You ask, words wobbly as they escape your trembling lips. “It’s like my magic is… tearing me apart.”

Cas’s head whips around and in an instant, Azriel is behind him. It hits them both at the same time, that your pain is their fault. That if they were feeling such strong emotions it must be doubled for you.

Your body is flooded with guilt and shame for a second, and then the golden flames die down as the blue magic is folded into the violet. Collapsing against Cassian’s chest, the golden magic reaches out for Azriel, mirrored by your hands. It takes a second for you to realize that they’re clutching the front of his jacket, pulling him flush against Cassian’s back.

Realization hits you like a blow to the chest, rattling your heart.

“Is this the mating bond?” You ask, pulling back just enough to see two pairs of eyes full of conflicting emotions.

“Yeah, baby, it is,” Az says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. He wraps his arms around you and Cassian and the golden magic settles over you like a thick wool blanket. You open your mouth to speak but Az shushes you. “It’s okay, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. For now, you need to rest.”

Despite the part of you that aches for answers, you can’t help but drift off to sleep to the steady rhythm of their hands on your body, soothing you to sleep with gentle touches.

Answers will come eventually; for now, you’re completely content.

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #cazriel x reader #cazriel #cazriel headcanon #cassian headcanons #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x you #cassian x reader #azriel headcanons #azriel x you #azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x reader #headcanon #headcanons

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experimentfae · 6 months

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Actor Au Wally Darling x GN PA Human! Reader

Oneshot

»»————-　★　————-««

You were just finished getting the directors and producers lunch “ok now that’s done, gotta print these scripts.” You were gonna head to the printing room until you noticed Wally seemed stressed.

“Mr.Darling are you ok?” You questioned he harshly tune his head to you until he noticed it was you “(y/n) finally someone that’s knows what they’re doing, Janet completely messed up my coffee order.” He groaned obviously frustrated “she always messing my stuff up.” He practically yelled.

“No worry Mr.Darling I’ll get someone to get you new Frappuccino.” “Thank you but…just mostly need to be alone with you (y/n).” He whispered to make sure nobody heard. This made you blush a little “yeah, let’s-

“Hey (y/n) should I chase Eddie like this?” “What w-Hey!” Eddie started to try to get away from Barnaby, Barnaby was on two fee “or on four?” He then went on a dog pose and begin to continue to chase Eddie.

“Fours is good, gives more of a comedy effect.” You answered “can you stop now, they said four!” Shouted Eddie “right sorry Eddie thanks (y/n).” Barnaby seemed to back to his script while Eddie let out some huffs “you sure *huff* can run *Huff* Barnaby.” This made you and Wally laugh.

“He sure can I need to take Wally for a touch up excuse us.” You lied while Wally followed behind “alright see you guys later.” Eddie replied “see you guys soon.” Barnaby spoke.

When Wally and you made it to his dressing room, “oh honey it’s been so much going on… I didn’t tell you but…” wally spoke hesitating to fully answer, you then grabbed in chin for him to look up at you “but what my blueberry?”

“It’s just I have been having so much stress making sure the workers treat my friends like equals, having to act like a jackass for them to respect me and… and ITS TO MUCH!” He shouted. “Oh my love please don’t stress yourself, you mental health always comes first.” You assured hugging him close to you.

Barnaby’s POV:

“I been noticing that Wally been stressing himself out, especially making sure the human coworkers treated us like equal’s… I’m worried about him” I admitted to Howdy “I know, he puts so much on himself especially when he’s the star of the show.” Howdy agreed

“Exactly.” I was feeling relieved I wasn’t the only one feeling like this “well maybe you should find him and tell him how you feel Barnaby, you’re his best friend after all.” Howdy advised I liked the idea he’s right “Yeah,I’ll go find him and try to see what I can do to help.”

My poor little pal he must be stressed to the bone at least (y/n) is with them so maybe they’re calming down a little.

I saw that there was a crack, maybe I should peek to see if he’s calm and collected now. I looked to see Wally and (y/n) hugging each other, wow I didn’t know there such good fri-

“Oh my blueberry.” Then I saw (y/n) kiss his beauty mark that made my eyes widen and Wally blushed “you and me should do something fun this weekend sounds good?” (Y/n) asked “blueberry is an interesting nickname, I have other colors you know.” Wally chuckled out this made (y/n) laugh in return “ok but about tomorrow are you free?” They questioned again “yeah I’m free and THIS is a real kiss.”

Wally then got on their chair and then grabbed (y/n) face and… KISSED THEM ON THE LIPS! (Y/n) was now beet red while my eyes practically went out of my skull and my mouth now agape.

What felt like forever they finally their lips parted “(y/n) you always know how to calm me down.” Wally spoke lovingly. “WOW!” I yelled in shock not realizing I said it out loud this immediately made their head’s turn to me.

(Y/n) POV:

We both looked to see Barnaby, oh no he must have seen the whole thing! Wally then grabbed him bringing him into the room and this time actually closing the door “how much did you see?!” Wally questioned “all of it.” Barnaby admitted “All of it!” You shouted in shock.

“Yeah I wanted to check on Wally but I came at the wrong time it seems, but why have you guys been hiding you’re relationship, we love (y/n) they are awesome.”

“Thanks Barnaby but that’s besides the point we are just not ready to tell everyone, we wanna take it slow.” You answered with Wally nodding agreement “oh well that’s explains why, but I’m glad to be the first one to know, I’ll keep it a secret I swear. Assured Barnaby.

“Thank you Barnaby.” Replied Wally “I should probably get back to work I have to print these scripts for next season.” You stated “alright honey I’ll see you after work.” Replied Wally “you too blueberry and see ya later Barnaby.” “Yeah see ya later kiddo.”

You three walked out of Wally dressing room and you left without a word.

Wally’s POV:

“You and (y/n) are cute together.” Said barnaby making Wally blush “don’t say that out loud so casually.” I Growled “alright, alright I’ll be more careful.”

We walked towards the stage area to see howdy practicing one of his lines until he saw us “Wally, Barnaby how are two.” “We are good.” I answered “you sure Wally you have been stress these days.” Replied howdy. “No worry (y/n) made him feel better.” Said Barnaby making me shove him on his side just making him laugh.

Howdy raised an eyebrow “alright well back to my lines.” Thank heavens he didn’t question it “alright bud I’ll see you on set.” Barnaby went back to his acting as well.

“See ya on set.” I walked away feeling at ease knowing it was my wonderful partner that me feel that way.

<- Back to MasterList or back to welcome home

#welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home fandom #welcome home puppet show #welcome home x reader #wally darling welcome home #actor au wally darling #wally darling x gn reader #welcome home actor au #actor au #wally darling x reader

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leewritestoomuch · 2 months

Text

Neji x Reader: Take a Risk

Modern AU! With a fem reader

WARNING: NSFW, P in V, Oral (fem receiving), doing it while others are in the house

Might be the greatest thing I’ve ever written tbh.

A movie night where the wrong person gets to choose the movie this round can cause for a fairly boring night. Why you all allowed Sai to choose the movie, you’ll never know. He doesn’t know the first thing about good movies. He’s seen like 7 or 8 movies, and those are mostly the movies you all watch during “Konoha 13 Movie Nights”, as you call them.

So as some boring artsy movie plays on the tv, you lay back on the couch, blanket stretched over you, your boyfriend Neji, and Lee, which has been causing fights since Lee can’t sit still. Tenten sits on the floor in front of you all, turning back to talk. Luckily, Sai doesn’t mind the talking as long as he can hear the boring, practically poetry leaving the characters mouths on screen.

As everybody starts to get tired, however, you feel Neji’s hand on your thigh. It doesn’t move up or down, just rests there on your skin. He stays still as slowly everybody falls asleep or decides to head home. Being that it was your house where you hosted the movie night, you waited, and offered to let people stay over, and when you did you felt Neji’s hand squeeze your thigh.

Oh.

Lee falls asleep on Neji’s shoulder, eliciting a groan from Neji, before he looks over at you with a pleading look. He wants you to get everybody home. You think for a moment, but shake your head.

“They’re too tired to walk all the way home. I think it’s better if they stay.” You whisper, looking around at most of the group still being here and asleep somewhere in the living space.

“Y/N.” He says simply, hand spreading out across your thigh as he does. And you know what he’s trying to say, but you can’t just ditch everybody and throw them out on the street for a good time, so you shake your head softly. And seeing as Neji isn’t the daring type, he won’t pull you back to another room and make you stay silent while he gets what he wants. No, he’ll wait until tomorrow if this is what you want.

He lets out a soft sigh, nodding as he sits back against the couch again, shoving Lee off finally. Lee doesn’t wake up as he falls to the other side of the couch. He doesn’t even wake when Sakura, the lap he landed in, shoves him down to the ground, but Tenten wakes when he falls on her.

“Ah, what the— Lee?” She shoves him off, shaking her head. Somehow, he’s still sound asleep on the ground beside her now. She shrugs and rolls over. You can’t help but laugh, and when you laugh you finally hear Neji chuckle.

“See? Couldn’t wake him if we tried.” You mutter, shaking your head.

Shikamaru was asleep on the floor a few feet away. Sasuke had gone home a while ago, dragging Naruto away with him. Sakura was still watching the movie with Sai, some part of her feeling bad if she left him. Ino had tried to drag off Shikamaru and Choji with her when she left, but Shikamaru wouldn’t budge and Choji didn’t want to leave him.

Shino, Kiba, Akamaru, and Hinata had all gone to their homes a while ago, being the firsts to leave. Which left about half of you still in your living room.

“I’m gonna go use the restroom, I’ll be back.” You whisper, excusing yourself and prying yourself out of your boyfriend’s arms. Neji nods as you walk away, sinking back into the couch.

However, you hear a soft knock on the bathroom door after you’re done washing your hands. Wondering who must have woke up, you open the door to leave the restroom, only to find your boyfriend standing there. Neji slips in, shutting and locking the door behind him and hoists you up on the counter.

“What? What are you doing?” You ask, looking into his white eyes. In this lighting, you can’t help but simply think about how pretty those eyes are on him. The soft light coming just from a little night light plugged into an outlet lit his face up just enough that the soft glow softened his features. He looked nearly ethereal like this.

That doesn’t shake your confusion, seeing as your boyfriend has never been the type to take a risk. There are people mere meters away in the living room, and you can’t figure out what he’s doing. It’s too unlike him, but could he have been this desperate to shake everybody else off tonight?

You hadn’t provoked him, but maybe he didn’t need that. And in fact, you simply breathing and being near him was enough to provoke him. His hand on your thigh was a form of pleading for this kind of attention. The attention he draws out of you now, taking your lips with his. Your lips move together in a gentle, yet feverish way. The pace is somewhere between pure desperation and his usual composure, as if his composure was a bar he was desperately clinging to but slipping.

He hooks his hands underneath your thighs, pulling you close until you could feel how hard he was. Between heated kisses, he whispers lowly and breathily, “you did this to me.”

You wanted to ask when, but he left you no time to get words in as he pushed his tongue past your lips, desperate for a taste now. And now you could not only feel his desperation, you could taste it. His hands tug gently at your hair, and your hands move to remove the hair tie from his, letting it fall on his shoulders. When you two finally separate for a moment, a string of saliva connects you both before breaking as you lean back to look at him.

“You look so good with your hair down.” You whisper, the comment earning a small chuckle from him.

“I could never look as good as you.” He whispers back, eyes locked on yours in a moment of intense intimacy. Before you have time to argue, he forces you to instead gasp as he kisses and nibbles at your neck now. Going for your weak spot to shut you up was a dirty move, but you can’t be mad. How could you when you’re just fighting moans now?

You have to stay silent, but his teeth grazing your most sensitive part of your neck now. He’d found the sweet spot, and you were clutching onto his shirt to cling to your sanity. His mouth moves lower on your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone. And now you find yourself getting a little fed up. Wetness is pooling between your legs, causing an ache that this just wasn’t helping.

You whine at him, pushing him back by the shoulders. “Neji, please.”

“‘Please’ what?” He whispers, hands rubbing up and down your thighs, inching closer to where your shorts, which have rode up your thighs, come to an end.

“Can we move to my bedroom?” You ask softly. “Then I’ll explain what I want.”

So he carries you there, careful to not wake anybody else in the house. He shuts and locks your bedroom door quietly before moving over and laying you down on the bed. Without you having to ask, he starts to remove your shirt, then his. Then his own pants before hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts and looking at you for one final nod of permission.

When you give him that permission, he discards your shorts and underwear. Lastly, he pulls off his boxers. You wait, feeling exposed as the cold air of your bedroom engulfs your body. He finally climbs back over you.

“That’s better.” He whispers before teasing your folds by running two fingers along the slit for a few seconds. He makes eye contact with you before he plunges those two fingers in. “Gotta make sure you’re ready.”

You shut your mouth, hard, as he curls his fingers in the perfect spot. A spot he’s memorized by now in order to watch you fall apart as quickly, or as slowly, as he wants. He kisses your lips one more time before slipping down, positioning himself between your thighs. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking gently as he fingers speed up a little.

His free hand runs up and down your body, tracing along your curves. The hand moves up to unclip your bra, letting you shake it off for him so he can palm at your breasts. He keeps looking up at you, holding eye contact you’ll let him. And soon, your eyes lock with his as a heat pools in your stomach, tightening as you force yourself to not squirm away from him. His hand comes down to grip your hip to help keep you in place as he forces you to endure an intense orgasm.

Your legs shake as your hips spasm, back arching slightly as sucks and licks at your clit like it’s his first meal in a week. Your hand is clamped over your mouth, pressing down any noise that threatens to come out. And him keeping eye contact with you anytime your eyes drift back to him is not helping you.

When he finally pulls himself up to kiss you again, he lines himself up with your entrance too.

“Do you need a minute or…?” He asks softly, hands running through your hand now. You think for a moment, breathing heavily, before you finally shake your head. He nods as he pushes the tip against your slit, making eye contact with you as he finally decides to push in. He slowly inches in as your soaking wet pussy accepts every inch, or rather takes it greedily.

Finally, he bottoms out, tip kissing the deepest parts of you. Before him, you never thought it’d be possible. However, with his length, it’s easy to stuff you full of cock.

“Please move.” You whisper, pushing his hair out of his face. He nods, his expression showing he’s been waiting for this all night. He pulls his hips back, shoving himself back in with a snap as a wet, lewd “shlick” sound fills the quiet room. You hope with all you’ve got that nobody is awake or it’s not loud enough to be heard, because both of you have lost the will to care about resisting this. The pleasure was too tempting.

He snaps his hips against yours in a fast rhythm, hands running desperately across your body as he pants and chokes down moans. You’d never tell another person, but Neji has a hard time being silent. He knows this, yet he dares to take you when he can’t make a sound, which is so unlike him. You can’t help but find the uncharacteristically horny, risqué move hot.

He has enough girth to slide with a delicious friction against your g-spot. When that feeling starts to build from just that, he moves his hand between your bodies, rubbing small circles on your clit. Your breath hitches as you slam your hand over your mouth, desperate to stay quiet.

Your legs shake, no, your whole body shakes as you reach your high. Your tight walls clench around his pretty cock as he groans, pulling out and coming on your chest and stomach. As he came, a moan finally slips and his eyes go wide. You smile up at him as he falls down to lay beside you.

“Aren’t you gonna clean this up?” You ask, pointing at your sticky abdomen. He heaves out a breath before nodding and moving to grab and wet a towel to clean you off.

Thank y’all for reading.

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