#toss everything in my thermos and thermos in my bag and off i go

[taylortots-world]

Ready For Love

Summary: Reader and Dean are watching over a nearby neighborhood. Just the two of you. What could possibly happen?

Warnings: (18+)(minors dni!) lil' sexy time in baby ;), smut

Note: Sorry- this seems long?? I'm just playing around with different perspectives atm, so enjoy this first person piece. Like or reblog if you enjoy :)

Sam had sent Dean and I away to stake out a specific neighborhood that had a series of odd murderers and disappearances. While we were at this spot, Sam was staking out the neighborhood a block over. It was freezing in the Impala. The leather seats didn’t help. In the winter, the seats were like giant ice blocks. In the summer, it was like putting your bare ass on a hot grill. I rested my head against the window, watching as my breath slightly fogged the window.

“And we are officially- out of coffee.” Dean said, rattling the empty thermos.

I looked over at him, groaning. “I told you to save me a sip.”

He shrugged, tossing the empty thermos into the backseat. “Whiskey will have to do. It’ll keep us plenty warm.” He smirked at me as he dug around in his inner pocket.

“Good point.” I sat up and pulled my bag right between my legs, unzipping it. I was praying that I had been smart enough to pack a bottle of whiskey. I looked up, slightly squinting as I continued to feel around my bag. Notebook, pens, tampons, everything but whiskey. I was starting to lose hope, then I felt the sleek mickey that had been buried at the very bottom of my bag.

“A-ha.” I sang, snatching up the bottle, smiling at Dean as I pulled it out.

“Great minds thing alike.” He nodded towards me, holding up his flask. I swear- he never left the house without that thing. I can always count on him for a little pick me up during the day, or any hour real.  I smiled widely, unscrewing the top before taking a long sip. The liquid burning my throat on the way down- in the best way possible. I slightly inhaled through my teeth.

“Good shit.” I nodded, holding the mickey out for Dean. His fingers gently brushed against mine as he took the bottle. My heart slightly fluttered- it shouldn’t have. Pull yourself together, Y/N.

***

Both the bottle and flask were drained, and the both of us were definitely feeling our buzz. My face felt hot and flushed due to the alcohol- and Dean of course. He always knew what to say and when to say it. I can see how he gets so many chicks.

“Yes- Sam peed himself. He still won’t admit it till this day.” We were both practically in hysterics. I held my stomach as I laughed.

“You’re going to kill me Winchester.” My laughter died down as I wiped a tear away with my knuckle.

“Oh I couldn’t kill you, sweetheart .” He said as his face appeared beside mine. I couldn’t help but drink him up. His freckled skin, piercing green eyes, the way his lips were slightly parted.

Silence. I was practically star struck. Was he hinting at something? Before I knew it, I was leaning in. Giving in, I gently gripped his face as I kissed him. He immediately kissed me back, no hesitation.

Our gentle kisses quickly turned into hot, rough kisses. I ran my hands down his broad arms, I needed more. He nipped at my bottom lip, causing me to hum into his mouth. He pulled away, his forehead against mine. He smelt of whiskey and his incredible natural musk.

“Backseat?” He asked, his eyes never leaving mine. My eyes flicked to his lips as I quickly nodded.

Dean pulled away and quickly swung the drivers door open, slamming it behind him. I wasted no time and decided to crawl over the front seat, hitting the backseat with an ‘oof’. Dean opened the door, smirking down at me as he shrugged his jacket off. I quickly pushed the discarded thermos from earlier off the seat, along with my own jacket. I fully laid back on the seat, my chest slightly heaving as I watched him. He tossed his jacket into the front seat and slowly covered my body with his. I gripped the collar of his henley, tugging his lips to mine. He started kissing a trail down my jawline to my neck and collarbone. My weak spot. I’ve dreamt of how his lips would feel against mine. My neck, legs. How his head would look between my legs.

“Your tense,” He said against my neck, peppering lighter kisses “Let me help you relax.” He whispered, his stubble tickling my neck.

I nodded, watching as his hands slid up my sides, taking my shirt with it.

“This okay?” He looked up at me, stopping right before my breasts.

“Yes- please.” I was practically begging. I was putty in his hands already.

I raised my arms, allowing him to slide my top up. My bra was a deep mauve. I would’ve worn a matching set if I knew this was going to happen.

I watched as an even bigger smirk grew on Dean’s face. He gently cupped my breasts, kneading them. Arousal was pooling more than ever. I could feel my panties as they began to dampen. I quickly leaned up, kissing him deeply. As our lips moved in sync , my hands disappeared behind my back to fumble around with the bra hooks. Once the hooks were undone, I watched his face closely as I slid the bra off, allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Oh darlin’..” He said as he took in the sight of my bare tits. He ducked his head behind my ear, kissing down my neck and collarbone once again. Once he got to my tits, he kissed, licked, and sucked as much as he could. His tongue found my right nipple, gently flicking it.

“Dean-” I sighed out, my eyes shut as pleasure overtook me.

“Use your words babe, tell me what you want.” He said between kisses, moving to give my other nipple some attention.

“I want you- I need you to fuck me.” I usually wasn’t this upfront- but Dean flipped a switch within me. I don’t know what it is, but I just need him more than ever right now.

He softly laughed against my skin. “Lay back, let me take care of you.”

His lips worked down my torso, right until the waistband of my pants. He kissed across the area right about my waistband, causing me to squirm underneath him.

“I know princess, I know. I’m gettin’ to it.” He looked up at me through his thick lashes. He hooked his fingers in the sides of the band, gently tugging them down. He kissed down my leg until the pants were at my ankles. I gently kicked them off, making sure not to hit him.

“These-” He ran his fingers along the top of my panties “Are cute, but they have to go.”

I quickly lifted my ass off the seat and slid the panties down to my midthigh, making it easier for Dean to remove them. My pussy was now on display for him. I was slightly embarrassed- I hadn’t shaven that weak. A gentle stubble covered me.

“Sorry- I haven’t shaven yet. Maybe you shouldn’t-” Before I could get another word out, my panties were off and his face was buried between my legs.

I gasped, my hand immediately found his head. My fingers gently gripping his hair as his mouth worked. His lips were wrapped around my clit, occasionally flicking his tongue. His hands slid to my hips, in an attempt to keep me still. I continued to wiggle under his touch. He pulled away, running his fingers through my folds. My breath caught in my throat as he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean.

“So delicious-” He said before sliding two fingers in.

I moaned and arched off the seat. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

His fingers moved at a moderate pace. I gave him a few teasing squeezes, causing him to smirk.

“Dean- I need more.” I whined, causing him to curl his fingers.

After my plea, his fingers moved quicker. His curled fingers hitting all the right places. I felt the coil heating in my stomach already.

“Please don’t stop-” I begged, throwing my head back against the inner console of the car door.

“Mm, you gonna’ come for me?” He whispered, continuing exactly what he was doing. I could come just from hearing his voice alone.

I quickly nodded as my breathing began to pick up, my core heating more and more.

“Fuck- I’m gonna come.” I whispered. I was practically white knuckling his hair, making sure not to tug too hard. Then it happened. I saw stars. My orgasm snapped like an elastic band, my whole body trembling. I kept my eyes shut and moaned as pleasure washed over me in waves.

“Thatta’ girl. You alive up there?” He slowly crawled up my body, hands on either side of me as he hovered above me. I slowly opened my eyes and was face to face with him. I was still recovering from my high. No guy had ever made me come. Especially not like that.

“I’m alive.” I said, slightly giggling. “You got a condom?” I asked as I gently traced his features with my fingertips.

“Yeah, hang on.” He rose to his knees, his bulge begging to be set free.

He snatched up his jacket off of the floor, searching all his pockets. I sat up, kissing his chest and abs, toying with his belt at the same time.

He sighed as he looked down at me, watching me closely. Once his belt was undone, I quickly tugged his pants down. Dean sat down on the seat, lifting his butt to slide his jeans fully off. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his bulge. The shape- the size. I flipped around, seating myself beside him. I nibbled on my bottom lip as my left hand found it’s way up his thigh, to his crotch. I gently rubbed him over his boxers, feeling his cock twitch under my touch. He brushed my hair out of the way before attacking my neck with his mouth. Goosebumps coated my arms as he gently raked his teeth against my flesh. I had never been so enticed by someone before. I have never needed someone this badly.

“You’re killin’ me.” His voice was muffled against my neck, vibrating against my skin.

“Let me help you relax.” I purred, quoting him from earlier.

“Hey, that’s my line.” He pulled back, smirking at me.

I lowered my mouth to his shoulder, kissing and licking a trail down his arm to where I wanted him most. My stomach tightened as I gently tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free. I felt my jaw go slack, my mouth watering. Not wasting another minute I lowered my mouth, taking him inch by inch. I hummed around him as I began to bob my head.

“Fuck Y/N-” He moaned, tilting his head back against the seat.

His hand ran up my back, before planting it in my hair.

The corners of my mouth twitched upwards. The sounds he was making as I bobbed my head up and down were fueling my arousal even more.

“As good as this feels- I need to be inside you babe.” His voice laced with desperation. I swear he could read my thoughts. My pussy was clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Lay back, make yourself comfortable.” Dean slid to the side of the backseat, giving me room to reposition myself.

I laid back, using his t-shirt as a pillow. I looked up, meeting his dark green stare, goosebumps coated my skin instantly. This man didn’t even have to touch me. He could simply look at me and I’d be a mess. He ripped the foil wrapper open with his teeth before rolling the condom onto himself.

“You ready baby?” He asked in a hushed town as he hovered over me, covering my body with his. I quickly nodded, placing a few soft kisses to his collarbone.

Our gazes never broke away from each other as he slowly slid into me. My jaw went slack once more as I felt him stretching my walls out perfectly with his cock.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He said against my ear as he slowly started rocking into me. I couldn’t help but moan.

“Oh fuck Dean-” I moaned out. I dragged my nails down his back, earning a grunt from him. I continued to rake my nails across his back, making sure not to dig them too deep.

He lifted his head, kissing me deeply as his hips sped up. He slowly rose, his hips still thrusting and grinding into me. A mischievous smirk grew on his face as he placed his thumb on my clit, rubbing gentle circles.

My back arched up off of the seat, a loud gasp leaving my lips. If he kept this up, I wasn’t going to last much longer. I could tell he was nearing his own orgasm.

“Fuck I’m gonna come.” He groaned out, his brows furrowing in pleasure.

“Come for me, please.” I rasped as his thumb moved faster against my clit.

“Come with me baby.” His breathing became ragged before exploding inside of me. The condom catching the remains of his orgasm.

One more circle around my clit and I was a mess. My whole body, trembling. Nothing but inaudible curses and moans. Dean collapsed on top of me, both of still breathing hard from our highs.

“We’re definitely doing that again.” I said as I gently stroked his head, playing with his hair.

“We should make this a reoccurring thing.” Dean said, the side of his face resting against my tit.

#deanwinchester #dean #winchester #sam #samwinchester #deanwinchesterxreader #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfction #deanwinchester smut #smut #spn #thecwspn #the cw supernatural #oneshot #baby #jensenackles #jensen #ackles #winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn smut #dean winchester smut #thecw #the cw tv series #dean smut #winchester smut #x reader #x y/n #x y/n smut

[teabights]

The End of the End

Summary: Just the Wild Ride of being broken up by Joe Keery and him wanting you back. 

*-*-* represents time jumps

Trigger Warning: none really.

Your heart jumps as you see the elder man singing to himself quietly as he fixes breakfast. This is one of the reasons you fell in love with him. His voice is heavenly. You wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his shoulder. 

“Good morning.” Joe greets.

“Hi baby.” You whisper. 

“Breakfast will be done in a moment. I need to shower and run over to the studio afterwards.” He kisses your forehead. You can’t help the sigh that came. “We are working on new stuff for Djo, especially since we have Austin City Limits in a month.” 

“I know. I was just hoping to see you today. You got back from filming literally yesterday.” You comment. 

“I’ll be back in time for dinner.” He says as he turns his attention to the stove. “We can go to the little taco truck down the road.” 

“Dinner? Joe…” Your tone is thick with sadness.

“I am sorry doll. You know how important Djo -” He starts.

“Yeah, I know. Everything is important. What about me, Joey? Am I important, Joey?” The words leave your mouth before you even shut down the thought.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks. “Of course, you are important to me! You need to support me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I support you. I stay here in LA, living in our shared apartment all by myself for four months at a time, while you go work. I fucking hang back at the house when you go take Djo on the road. I never once had asked to come along. I give you space to do your own thing, while feeling like the second option.” you snap at him.

“Babe…” He tries to smooth this over with that nickname.

“Don’t ‘Babe’ me like it’s going to get you out of this.” You say to him.

“I don’t ask you to do that. You can come join me.” He says. 

“And what? Leave my career behind? I am only one of the head writers who have to be in meetings all the fucking times.” You argue back. 

“You could easily do that on the road.” He says.

“No, I can’t. I fucking can’t.” You say. “You know what?” 

“What?” Joe asks. 

“Looks like you are having a big breakfast. I’ll talk to you later. I have to fucking go to the office.” You start to walk away.

“You took today off.” He comments, which makes you stop in your tracks.

“Yeah! I did! To fucking spend today with you, but I don’t even get to. So I am going to go to the office, you can stay at the studio all night for all I care.” You exclaim as you walk to the bedroom. 

Once in your room, you threw on a lazy professional outfit. You grab your work bag, checking for everything that usually lives in it. You nod your head as you collect your keys and phone. You walk out of the room, ignoring the ‘Don’t forget your coffee.’ that came from Joe as he places the thermos on the coffee table. You walk to the door. You grab your badge off the hook and slide it over your head. You look at him sitting on the couch, eating eggs he was cooking, not even how he liked his eggs, but how you liked your eggs. You roll your eyes as you leave the apartment. You walk out to the parking structure, tossing everything on the passenger seat. You look at your phone, sure enough Joe had text you.

From: JoeyBug

Wait, you forgot your coffee.

Next thing you know he was calling your name from the door of the parking garage, making his way to you, holding your thermos. He gets to you, handing you the thermos.

“Have a good day at work.” He says, trying to place a kiss to your cheek, but you dodge it.

You put the termos in the cup holder and get in the driver side. “You too.” Your words are cold.

He steps back from the car as you close the door. You start it up and drive yourself to work. Seeing him in the rearview mirror for a few moments before you turn your attention away. You get to work after ten minutes. You park and climb out of the car, collecting your things - intentionally leaving the coffee in the car. You walk into the office and see the receptionist raise an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you… off today?” Shelia asks.

“Yeah, I changed my mind.” You answer her. “Men suck, Shelia.”

“Okay… Do you want your usual breakfast brought to you?” Shelia asks.

“Yes please.” You say.

You continue in and ignore all the confused looks from your coworker. You open your office door and close it. You set all your stuff down on a chair and feel your eyes well up. You were in such a rush to get to work, that you ignored your feelings. You move to your computer, booting it up. The seconds flicker pass and tears start to flow down your face. You turn your framed photo of you and Joe to be face down. You pull two random windows open to cover the background screen of your computer, which are press pictures of Joe that you really liked. You pull up the article you were working on. You start some soft music, to quietly cry to and help you focus on your work. You are not interrupted for twenty minutes before there is a knock. You wipe your eyes quickly and pause the music.

“COME IN!” You say.

“Hey!” Your assistant, Dale, says after opening the door.

“Hey Dale.” You say.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at home with Joe?” He asks as he places the small bag that contained a breakfast burrito and your coffee down in front of you. He looks at you for a moment. “Why are you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying…” You say was your rub at your eyes again. “Allergies.”

“Right…” He notices the picture frame is turned down. “What happened?”

“Joe decided that he wanted to spend his first day back working, so I am doing the same thing.” You say, your eyes gloss over. 

“Well, that sucks. He’s such an ass sometimes, you must love him so much though.” Dale gives you a small grin.

“Yeah…” You say almost unsure of that at this moment. “I am going to eat and work, so please see yourself out.”

“Yes boss lady.” He says with a chuckle as he leaves, closing your door. 

You start to eat your food and drink your coffee. You get back to work. After about two hours, Dale pokes his head in.

“Hey, you have a visitor,” Dale says.

“I wish when you have a bad day, you could send off a message to let everyone know so they’ll leave you alone.” You say. You look at him, his eyes glance back and shrug before looking at you.

“Can I let them in?” He asks. 

“Yeah, whatever Dale.” You answer him, your eyes going back to the screen. You could feel the presence of the person get closer.

“I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch?” The familiar voice says.

“I thought you had Djo all day.” You answer coldly.

“Uh, yeah, I spoke to the guys, we agreed that we can push it off a day.” Joe says. 

“Funny, that is what I wanted three hours ago.” You still have your eyes on the screen as you write out the thoughts you had.

“Come on babe, can I please turn this day around with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You say, your eyes finally break from the screen to look at him.

His eyes go to the picture frame. “Okay, you know what… just forget it… forget all of this.”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

He picks up the frame. “This… Just us… clearly we aren’t going to move past this.” 

“Us? You want to break up?” You question him. 

“Yeah, I think it might be better.” He answers, throwing the frame back on the desk, not caring how it landed. 

“Uh, sure, if you want to…” You say. 

“Do you want to?” He asks.

“I… maybe we do need a break.” You answer him. “I’ll go stay with Shelia, you can have the apartment. J-just text me when you are out of there later this evening, I’ll grab most of my stuff.” Your eyes start to well up. You quickly move a hand to wipe your eyes.

“Cool, will do.” He is like stone. You couldn’t see what he was thinking, his body language had you cut off. He turns on his heels and walks out of your office

*-*-*

You stand there at the red carpet for the season 4 premiere of Stranger Things. You flat out the dress you had on as everyone comes down the carpet. You get to interview everyone from Brett Gelmen to Grace Van Dien. You see Joe make his way up the carpet in your direction. You look back at Dale, who walks to you, taking the mic.

“I got him. Why don’t you take a break? You’re short enough to hide behind Tommy.” He motions to the camera man, Tommy.

“It’s been two fucking years.” You say. “I finally adjusted. I can’t believe that they would send me.” You move from your spot, standing behind Tommy.

Soon, Joe walks over to Dale. 

“Dale with GQ US here, with Joe Keery, how are you man?” Dale asks.

“Hey Dale, it’s so cool to see you doing interviews on the carpet.” Joe comments. “I am good. This was a longer film process this time around. I am glad to have it done now.”

“Well that’s great. What have you done since filming stopped?” Dale questions. 

“I have been working on Djo, keeping myself so occupied.” Joe answers him, that makes your stomach flip.

“I saw that it’s been taking over the globe. Are you excited for people to see this season?” Dale asks. 

“Yeah, definitely. It’s by far the best of the series. You will love it.” Joe responds.

“Thank you, Joe, have a good rest of your day.” Dale says. 

“Yeah you too.” Joe says as he walks away. 

Joe turns back as you come from behind Tommy to talk to Dale. His lips curl into a frown. Your hair is short, having the sides buzzed, showing off your mullet. This was the post breakup haircut you got. You always had reservations about it due to Joe, but you didn’t care at all. You are able to interview everyone else. You get a little flirty with Eduardo Franco, but he seemed more relaxed towards the end of the interview then when you two started.

*-POST PARTY WITH THE CAST-*

“Yeah, she was flirting with me. She’s foine.” Eduardo says to Finn.

“Really? Why does her name sound familiar?” Finn says. 

“She’s Joe’s ex.” Gaten chimes in and motions to Joe standing there, chatting up Grace.

“Shit, she is? Fuck, I want Keery to like me, don’t repeat that to anyone.” Eduardo points to Finn and Gaten.

“Your secret is safe.” Gaten says.

“Yeah man,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, you should have seen this reporter with Eduardo, she was flirting up a storm with him.” Charlie says with a small chuckle.

“What?” Joe’s eyebrow goes up as he overheard his cast mate.

“That girl reporter towards the end was flirting with Eduardo.” Charlie repeats. 

“Huh, I didn’t…” Joe realizes that it was you

Really Eduardo? He figured that you would go after Joseph Quinn or heck even Mason Dye. He takes a sip of his drink.

“There must be something about him. I didn’t get flirted with at all.” Joe comments. 

“Eduardo!” Charlie calls him over.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Eduardo whispers. “Hey Charlie!” His voice at the usual volume as he approaches the man.

“Who was the brod that interviewed you?” Charlie asks.

“She was with GQ US, I don’t remember. She is mad foine though.” Eduardo says. 

“Ha, really? Maybe on the next carpet I’ll see her.” Joe says.

“Maybe, she’s a bad hyna. You won’t miss her.” Eduardo says.

Joe chuckles as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I am sure she was.”

“Wait didn’t your ex girl work for GQ US?” Natalia questions Joe.

“Huh, what? No, she works in their office. She showed no interest in doing field work." Joe answers. 

"That was her though, she has that tattoo on her forearm, the typewriter." Natalia says. Dammit Natalia take a hint!

"I didn't see a typewriter." Eduardo says. 

"What?" Joe's eyebrow goes up. 

"It was like a collection of trees on her arm." Eduardo comments.

Why did she cover her tattoo? Maybe she got more and Eduardo didn't see her arm with the typewriter. 

*-*-*

You knew running into Joe was inevitable. You haven't seen him since the premiere a year ago. You see him sitting at the coffee shop you both like. Your hair had grown out into a longer mullet, you quite enjoyed the style. You walk over to the table he was sitting at. 

"Anyone sitting here?" You ask confidently.

"Uh, no go ahead." His eyes land on you as you sit down. "Hey y/n." 

"Hi Joe." You say. 

"You look great." He states. 

His eyes scan you, sure enough Eduardo did see the other arm. He notices all the new tattoos and the little gold ring that hugged your nostril. 

"Uh, how have you been?" Joe asks. 

"Pretty good. I have been doing more field stuff, which I know I said I would rather die than do it, but I love it." You say. "I love interacting with everyone."

"Joey, these bathrooms are terrible." A woman says as she sits next to him. 

"Uh, Y/N, this is Maika." Joe says. 

"Hi, nice to meet you." You say.

"You too. How do you know Joe?" Maika asks, her hand moves to hold his bicep in dominance. 

"We go back to high school." You lied so smoothly, licking your lips quickly. 

Joe knows your lying signs. "Yeah, high school." He agrees. 

"Oh yeah? That's cool. How was baby Joey in high school, I bet it was so cute." She says. 

"He did theater and was a big old nerd. So…" you say with a chuckle. You catch Joe's smile after you chuckle. You stand up. "It was cool running into you here Joe. Nice to meet you Maika. I'll grab my coffee and head out."

"Nice to meet you too y/n." Maika says with a smile.

"See ya." Joe says. 

*-*-*

You scroll on Maika's instagram every day for the next six months, seeing her post Joe. You scroll and see her newest one, announcing her engagement to Joe. 

You lost him. 

You lost him forever. 

There was no coming back from this. 

You hear a knock on your door. You put your phone on the coffee table. You move to the door, not bother checking the peep hole, you see Joe standing there.

"What are you…." You start but he cuts you off. 

"What the fuck… that was supposed to be you. I wasn't fucking working on Djo at all that. I had to fucking go approve your ring and pay for it. I was going to plan a big special thing for dinner, but you just fucking ruined it." Joe says all in one breath. 

"Excuse me?-" You start once again. 

"The next time I have to see you, you have Dale interviewing me. I then had to hear from fucking Heaton that you flirted with Eduardo while you interviewed him. There was always the unwritten rule that my cast mates were off the table." He sounds so jealous. 

"You broke up with me. It was fucking two years later. I could have flirted with all the guys. I only flirted with him because I could sense he was nervous." You respond. 

"I don't care. They're always off limits." Joe says. 

"Why are you here?" You ask. 

"Just to air out almost 4 years of utter frustration." He says. 

"How did you know how to find me?" You ask.

"Shelia." Joe says. 

He looks at you. Your eyes scan over him for a moment. Next thing you know, those butterflies erupt in your stomach as his lips land on yours. You kiss him back for about two seconds. You push him away. 

"What about Maika?" You asks. 

"What about her?" He asks. 

"You literally proposed today." You say. 

"So?" He retorts.

"I am not letting you cheat on her with me." You tell him. "I have some respect." 

"Let's go to Vegas, get married right now." Joe says.

“Joe, go home.” You tell him.

“You are home.” He says. 

“No, go to Maika, please. So I don’t have to tell her that you are here.” You beg him. 

“Y/N, please.” He begs.

“Joe, please.” You start to usher him out of the doorway.

“Fine.” He mumbles as he walks out of the house. 

Your eyes water as you watch him walk away. Joe turns back to you as he opens the door, getting in the car. You watch him drive off.

*-*-*

"Joe Keery and Maika Monroe called it quits after 6 months of being married." You hear the news reporter say on E! News. Your eyes snap to the screen. Joe and Maika's wedding photo had a poorly done graphic that was a rip between the two. You avoided him for a year. 5 years since you two broke up. 

"Hey, you have a visitor." Dale says. 

"Let them in." You say as you turn off the video you are watching.

"Hey…" That familiar voice fills the room, making your heart drop, Joe.

"Hey, what's up? Are you okay?" You ask. 

"Yeah, I am fine. I'll be fine…" He shrugs his shoulders. He looks at your desk, no picture frame in sight. Dale had taken it away after the third month. 

"Yeah? Good. I just heard the news…" You start. 

"Yeah, she found out about that night. Apparently sleeping with a couple of her friends equals revenge for a kiss." He speaks softly. 

"Oh, Joe, I am so sorry." You say. 

"It's fine. It makes sense." Joe says, a bit defeated. 

"Joey, you don’t deserve it though. Why are you here?” You ask apprehensively.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you.” Joe admits to you.

“Wh-what?” You stutter out. 

“I love you. Do you still love me?” He asks.

“Uh, Joe, of course I love you, just…” You sigh a little bit. “I can’t be with you. You just got divorced from the girl you dated after me. Let it set for a little bit.”

“I don’t want to fucking wait anymore. I want you back.” He says. 

“Joe, give it time…” You say confidently. 

#joe Keery #joe keery fan fiction #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery fan fic #joe keery fanfic #djo

[whumpfish]

Allergic Reaction: Severe

A whump reference post

So I'm deathly allergic to peanuts and this is how my visit to the state fair went... I'm enjoying a funnel cake my mom brought me when something red on the wall catches my eye.

All Our

I crane my neck a little, finishing it off.

Products Are

Surely not... right? I grab my cane and stand up.

Fried In

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh fuck.

Peanut Oil

Oh boy. And I just ate the wholeass thing.

I can't feel anything right away, but I know from experience it takes 15-30 minutes to really hit me. Luckily I always carry benadryl and my auvi-q (like an epi pen but affordable), so I grab 2 benadryl right away and toss them back to slow the reaction.

At 3 minutes the interior of my mouth behind my teeth starts to burn. Just-ate-a-jalapeño burn. At 5 minutes it's spread to the roof of my mouth. At 10 minutes it starts creeping down my throat.

It keeps continuing down my throat, and as it does the burn goes from jalapeño to habanero to ghost pepper. It's everywhere. My gums, the inside of my cheeks, under my tongue, to say nothing of my esophagus.

The itching starts somewhere between 15 and 20 minutes. It begins deep inside my ears, then my scalp, then the back of my neck. Then my arms and torso.

At 25 minutes I'm scratching my head, digging at my ears. I'm ready to rip the damn things off they itch so bad.

At 30 minutes the itching has spread to all of my skin. I'm itching in places I didn't know it was possible to itch. My teeth itch, the cartilage in my nose itches. All my joints start aching. I can still breathe, which is nice, but it means all I can do is take another benadryl.

At 35 minutes the joint pain has progressed from "ow" to "I have rheumatism and the storm of the century is 10 minutes away." My senses start going nuts. The sunlight, even indoor lights are blinding. Every noise is a speed metal band having a concert in my ear canals.

Everything outside itches and everything inside burns. I'm miserable, doubled over in my chair, what's shaping up to be a huge headache forming behind my eyes. But the benadryl keeps me breathing.

For about 5 more minutes. Then my throat starts to close up in little squeezing pulses, and I know despite my early action it's fixing to be thigh stab o'clock. I live in the US, so the awareness of how expensive an overnight stay at the ER on iv steroids following said stab is, and that it's my mom who's going to have to pay for it, gives me a complicated mashup of guilt-fear-frustration-anxiety.

I can't remember the last time my exposure to peanut products was this bad. The last accidental exposure that had me going to urgent care was when I bit the tip off a green tea pocky without reading the box. This time it's a wholeass cake. With my leaky gut and shit immune system, I'm in for it. Even with the requisite rescue needles, I'm worried. The process is still happening. Just in slow motion.

My kingdom for a thermos of activated charcoal.

My mom gives me her water bottle after I drain mine trying to ease the burn. She's hoping dilution will help too, but it's not doing much. She gets me a couple more from the kiosk.

They're ice cold. Like. Ice cold. The kind of cold I would normally let sit for half an hour before drinking because freezing water hitting my stomach has always made me nauseous. But then I realize that might be the best way out of this.

I chug three in a row. Then I lie down on a bench in the recovery position with my hoodie over my head to block the overwhelming light. I can't tell if what I'm feeling is my usual queasiness or just more of the reaction, but I decide to go for it and pull my knees in hard to my chest. [Emeto cw for the next paragraph alone. Skip it if it squicks you.]

XXX

It works, and I proceed to be sick into a bag intermittently over the next 5-10 minutes until I'm completely empty.

XXX

The relief once it's no longer in my system is almost immediate. The ever increasing crescendo of inflammation skids to a halt. It's like air being let out of a balloon. The pressure in my head dissipates. My nose is running like mad but it's better than the alternative.

It's been about 6 hours now. My chest still hurts. I can't eat without pain yet--trying feels like rubbing steel wool across a fresh wound. I'm going to need to sleep with my top half up at 30 degrees minimum to help me keep breathing okay. I'm exhausted, probably going to bed after this...

But I hope this was at least useful to y'all.

[lotsofchocolatesoutside]

Jing Si Instant Rice, a VEGAN MRE option.

This is dehydrated rice with seasoning that can be purchased here. (There are Brick-and-Mortar stores too.)

One bag = 4 rice packs and 4 seasoning packs.

Hot water + 20 mins = a bowl of hot rice/porridge. Room temp water + 50 mins work too.

Tips: I use twice the water and have it as porridge for breakfast on cold mornings or when I'm bored with instant noodles.

<Photo is Corn flavor, with 1T of nutritional yeast and some soy floss. I also like the Garden Vegetable and brown rice with Chinese Kale. Absolutely a life-saver when I'm traveling & not about my food options. I do it with my thermos and takes only 10 minutes.>

Tagging @lowspoonsfood

#i feel selfish not sharing this #jing si instant rice #vegan #vegetarian #taiwanese food #rice #instant rice #MRE #one spoon food #lightweight #toss everything in my thermos and thermos in my bag and off i go #food #food blog #food photography #yummy #colorful #corn #peas #soup #rice and soup #rice soup #life in taiwan #in taiwan #living in taiwan

[bukojuiice]

are you feline what i’m feline? — todoroki shoto

ೃ pairing: cat boy! ┃pro hero! todoroki shoto  x fem pro hero! reader

ೃ  tags: smut 18+ (the rest of the tags are below the cut!)

ೃ  warnings: nsfw

ೃ wc: 3k words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.  

ೃ dedicating this fic to the lovely and amazing @todosweetheart​ bc her cat boy! shoto art is the reason why this fic exists. thank u for the content u feed us val! 🥰💓

additional tags:  use of natural aphrodisiac, cat boy! kink, overstimulation, fingering, kitten/cat play, rough but loving sex)

You had just recently moved in to a new neighborhood with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shoto. 

Your blissful domestic life with him was just about to begin and life couldn’t get any better than this. and yet... 

sometimes you wish you could do more for him. 

The two of you met when you were hired to work at his father’s agency, stealing glances at him by the reception area whenever you came in for work, and coincidentally getting into the same elevator as him. Not knowing that he was woefully smitten with you too. It was only through the probing of your co-workers that you had drunkenly confessed to him at a company party and he had (soberly) confessed to you too.

That was where everything started. 

That was how you and the No. #3 Pro-hero got together.

Sometimes, it made you think if you were even worthy of his love. 

You were just a hero with a support quirk; with it being used for more science and field-related work as your powers made you manifest and create drinkable liquids that could change the physical appearance of a person (make them invisible, turn them into an animal, or even turn them back into a child or into an elderly person) for a limited time and depending on how strong or weak the solution. This means that through your quirk, you are able to tamper with a person’s DNA through these concoctions without any consequences. It was a powerful quirk, just like magic, yes, but can it be used for offense? Sadly not.

Shoto’s quirk was the exact opposite. Bearing the quirk of fire and ice, he was the definition of perfection. The perfect quirk, the perfect combination of two exact opposite elements, and how adept he is at using both of them. Often praised and hailed by the public for not only being extremely powerful, but also for how painstakingly handsome he is. You were just waiting for some controversial tabloid to talk about the No. 3 Pro Hero and his girlfriend who was way out of his league. 

Shoto constantly reassures you not to worry about them, never failing to calm you down with his gentle I love you’s and forehead kisses whenever he sees you tensed up and nervous, and never failing to tell you that you are the light of his life and his strength to continue fighting. and yet, it still worries you sometimes.

Today marks your 2 year anniversary. 

The two of you decide to go out on a simple date tonight at one of the best-reviewed restaurants in the neighborhood as the two of you were busy with throwing out the moving boxes and unwrapping your furniture, combined with the hero work that the two of you do during the day. Completely ruling out the possibility of being able to plan an elaborate anniversary date. 

But, it was alright. As cheesy as Shoto makes it sound, no day can ever become the worst, as long as he’s spending it with you. 

“Ah~ Those crepes were super yummy! Plus, the cafe was really cute!” You beam with a satisfying yawn, the two of you walking side by side, hand holding the other, and his arm wrapped around your shoulder for that extra warmth against the cold summer night. 

“Yea. There was a classy vibe to it. That was my first time trying a galette, and I must say that was tasty.” He remarks, turning to you. Your radiant and lively energy was infectious and he can’t help but smile. “Leave it to Mina and Sato to know all the best restaurants, I suppose.”

You nod contentedly and the two of you continue to walk back home in silence. Shoto looks around, taking in the sight and wondering if he could point out any small details about your surroundings that could make you laugh or smile. He notices a small shadow perk up from beneath a bush and he casually points at it. “Hmm? (Y/N), look over there.” 

You follow Shoto’s gaze and also notice the small shadowy figure. “Oh?”

The quiet sound of a purr could be heard from the bush. The two of you wait a little bit for the creature to reveal itself. A black cat pounces out of the plant, it’s beautiful green eyes staring back at you. “Meoooow.”

The cat walks up to you and you crouch down, putting your hand out, and wait patiently. Sure enough, the cat nuzzles against it. 

“Ahhh she’s so cute.” You observe the cat a bit more and notice it’s femme feline features. Shoto crouches down next to you and pats it’s head. Clearly the kitty seems to enjoy all this attention as she’s purring up a storm. “She is.” 

You glance at Shoto and notice how his eyes glimmered a different blue-grey light as he continued to play with the kitten. Pure bliss present in his face. His handsome and soft features make you blush, with the heat rising up to your cheeks, you quickly turn away before Shoto could notice you.

Bingo.

What if you turned into a Cat Girl and made Shoto… ya know…

It was a simple formula after all. You could whip up a concoction, sprinkle in a little bit of natural aphrodisiac and that’s it! The recipe to the sexiest and kinkiest night of your life! Maybe you could show your love to Shoto in a different way than most girlfriends do to their boyfriends no?

“AHAH!” You suddenly jump up from the ground, your boyfriend perks up a little bit in surprise too. You then bring out your phone and begin scrolling through your notes. “Sho-kun! Come on! Let’s get home!” You grab his hand and drag him away. He adjusts his running to your pace, smiling at your sudden burst of eagerness and excitement. “Alright alright, love. Be careful so we don’t trip.”

That night, you told Shoto to not wait for you as you had to brew up some potions for tomorrow as specially requested by a hero from your agency. Although reluctant at first to leave you, he intently watched you work your magic at  the little science lab in your house. The smell of the strong chemicals waft around the living room, prompting him to retreat back to your bedroom, but not without a quick kiss (that was about to turn into a make out session) before bed. 

“Happy anniversary, Love.” Shoto holds you by the waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you swaying slightly to the non-existent rhythm and this makes you almost want to go to bed with him. “Shall we continue this tomorrow?” He peppers kisses down your neck, you giggle in response. 

“We shall.” You turn to him and deliver a kiss to his lips. You pull away before you could even begin to think of yearning for more. “I’m sorry if we had to cut our anniversary short. It’s your day off tomorrow right? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He nods first before giving you one last kiss, this time on the forehead. “Goodnight (Y/N). I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He pulls away. you watch him leave your lab first and make sure he’s out of sight before you get back to work. 

After a few more hours of solving the formula and crafting the recipe for a potion that doesn’t necessarily turn you into a cat, but rather, give you only cat ears and a cat tail, yu bring out a thermos bottle from the cupboard and pour in the liquid solvent along with the natural aphrodisiac. You stir it a little bit before using your quirk to add the finishing touch and to make it a viable and an actually working potion. 

“Can’t wait to drink this tomorrow.” You snicker to yourself, as you pour all of the liquid onto the thermos, storing it in the fridge and then proceed to go to your bedroom and finally hit the sack.

“AHH I’M LATE!” You rush out of the bedroom, messy bedhead hair, your hero suit not even fully zipped up, mismatched socks, and your bag tossing and turning, most of the contents falling out, your thermos being one of them. “I’M LATE FOR WORK! BYE! I LOVE YOU!” You greet Shoto who was eating his breakfast in the kitchen, planting him a farewell kiss on the cheek as you dash your way out of the house. 

“I l-love you too.” He bids goodbye with a wave, but you weren’t even there to hear it anymore. Shoto’s eyes cast downward, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t even able to greet you properly this morning and how your anniversary date felt so short even though you promised each other you would spend more time together later today. 

He then notices your water bottle on the ground. A sticky note that was labeled “Drink me!” was attached to it and of course as every other person would react once they see a note like that,

Shoto thought that was for him. 

“SHO! I’M BACK!” You call out to him, closing the door behind you. “Sho~?” You sing-song, peering through the kitchen and the living room but your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. “Where are youuu?” You continue to traverse through your house, looking for him. You grind to a halt when you notice your thermos bottle on top of the dining table… All empty.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no.

“Shoto!” You call out, your voice cracking with nervousness. You rush to your bedroom, hoping and praying that he was there. Only… for the lights to be out. 

“Sho?” Your hand reaches out for the light switch. But, you hesitate. What if a demon had kidnapped your boyfriend and you had to save him!? What can your quirk even do to save him!?

“(Y/N)...” He finally responds. Although his tone was soft and still a bit suspicious, you breathe a sigh of a relief and finally turn on the lights.

The lights illuminate the room to reveal your boyfriend in his usual turtleneck fit that you always ogle at. You look up and down, noticing that this is still the same man you know and love and nothing bad actually happened until… 

You look up and behind him.

He’s still the same man you know and love. 

Just this time however. he’s a cat boy. 

“I drank the potion that you made.” He says ever so casually, nothing ever fazes him as usual. “It had a “drink me!” sticky note attached to it and I thought it was for me.” He continues to speak plainly. You thought you could get out of this situation scotch-free and you didn’t have to explain to your loving boyfriend what had happened to him. That was until he crossed his arms, his feet tapping the ground, and his cat tail waving behind him. “Please explain to me why I am now a cat boy.” 

“Well…” You began twiddling with your fingers, trying your very best not to make eye contact with him or else you would end up squealing in delight because of how adorable he looked. “You see, I made this potion to turn me into a cat girl so that I can… ya know… please you and stuff. I saw how affectionate you were with the cat we saw last night so.. I guess you can consider this as my late anniversary gift to you?” You laugh sheepishly, still trying your best not to look at him as his gaze intensifies. 

Shoto’s black and white cat ears twitch as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Fine. I forgive you. This will wear off eventually right?” You nod in response and Shoto’s shoulders slump down in relief. He was about to approach you and envelop you in a hug, until his legs wobbled midway and he practically fell down onto the floor. 

You rush to him and help him stand up, propping himself on the bed. “Sho… are you alright love?”

He starts breathing heavily, cat ears twitching once again, fingers trembling, lips quivering, and his face as red as a tomato. “(Y/N)... what was even in that potion you made?”

You suddenly remember the aphrodisiac you added to the recipe.

Oh no no no no (2)

Shoto suddenly turns away from you before you could notice the bulge rising in his pants. He covers his face in embarrassment, refusing to look at you. 

“I also added some aphrodisiac and some catnip into the potion ahahaha…” You scratch the back of your neck. Shoto turns to you again, his eyes glowing like that of a cat and giving off a smoldering feeling. He shifts your position, gently yet somehow arduously pinning you down on the bed. He steps closer, hands moving up your sides, going around your back, pulling you flush against him. Shoto nips at your earlobe, sending sparks through you. 

You bite back a moan as he kisses your neck, his tongue hot, the gentle scrape of his teeth (slightly sharped like that of fangs) leaving you shivering. 

The two of you stop for a bit. He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Tension coils around him, barely contained energy. As if Shoto is preventing himself from showing you his animalistic and feline hunger wanting to ravage you.

“C-can I-”

Before Shoto could even utter another word, you grab his face and pull him back into a desperate kiss, capturing his gasp and the throaty moan that follows. You capture his mouth with yours, and he responds eagerly, his kiss fervent, all his restraint crumbling at your touch. 

He kisses your chin, and you tip your head back as he trails his lips down your neck, murmuring praise.

He lays you down, hiking your shirt up, tossing it to the floor, then deftly unhooking your bra, and exposing your breasts. You giggle and reach for his pants, unzipping the fly and getting a little thrill when you see the huge bulge in his boxers. 

You push up his turtleneck sweater to admire his abs and Shoto smiles back at you seductively. 

“Like what you see?” He says teasingly, a little quip that he barely does when the two of you make love, his husky voice makes your stomach swoop.

“I can only tell you if you purr first.” You tease back, running your fingers over his cat ears. Shoto  feels the tickling sensation build up inside of him, slowly about to give in to his raw animal instincts. While you continue to run your fingers through his cat features, he begins to suck and nibble on your breasts. You feel yourself get lost in his gentle caress, barely even notice him pulling off your panties and sliding them off between your legs. Shoto’s fingers slowly slide into your womanhood, as if testing out the waters. He works them in and out for a bit, then pulls them out, brings them to his mouth, and licks them. 

Like a kitten licking its milk. 

“Sho…”

You feel the last of Shoto’s restraint break as his cat ears twitch again, you can practically feel the energy crackling around him, and the hunger in his eyes more evident than a while ago. Shoto then braces his arms beside your head, as he slots his hips between your thighs. You rise up to meet him, a low moan spilling from your lips. 

“(Y/N)... I’m going to put it in now…”

You bite your lip and nod in confirmation. 

Shoto gently sets a slow pace, your head spins at the sensation and the arousal coursing through you, your hips rolling to meet the movements of his cock. As he enters, the thrilling sensation courses through you again and your mind feels like it just melted. 

You gently rub his cat ears again, and his cock twitches inside of you, the enthralling reaction resulting in a shudder of pleasure shooting through your body, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And that pleasure transmits to Shoto loud and clear from your pussy. 

Meanwhile, his breathing was ragged, more wild and animalistic than normal. Which is to be expected due to the potion but… this hot and intense feeling radiating off of him was different. 

And you love it.

“I-I feel like I’m losing control…”

As Shoto speaks, he slams his cock into you, making your legs shake and you moaning louder than you should. Everything seems more intense, from his thrusting to the look on his eye. 

At this point, it’s getting harder and harder to form a coherent sentence. 

“Is it alright if I go faster?” Shoto says softly, you hold his hand in reassurance, unable to respond properly as every intense emotion running inside of you makes you let out hitched and breathy moans instead. 

Shoto pulls out halfway, then slams back inside of you, making a loud sticky sound.

The two of you were acting like animals in heat. 

“A-ah! Shoto!” You mewl out, each of Shoto’s thrust hitting an undiscovered part of your insides. Spurred on by your voice, his pace further increases, until you’re both moving frantically. You gasp at his intensity, at the weight and heat of his body pinning you down.

“(Y/N)! I’m going to-” 

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, and his fluffy tail briefly brushes against you. Shoto’s body tenses up as he prepares to unload inside of you.

Shoto’s body spasms- including his tail. Waves of pleasure flood over you as his semen shoots full-force into your depths.

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before he slowly lays himself next to you, his feline features slowly disappearing as you try to catch your breath.

“L-look they disappeared with one whoosh.” You say in between pants and giggles, Shoto covering the two of you with your bed duvet, chuckling along with you/

“Next time, please label things properly and tell me if you added any sort of ingredient that could increasingly highten my sex drive.” He says with an exasperated sigh, yet satisfaction plastered all over his face as he looks at you lovingly. “I love you (Y/N). Happy anniversary… nya~” He whispers the last few words, shooting you a wink. 

Your eyes widen, your mouth forming into an O like that one Chris Pratt meme. “Y-you just said…”

“Let’s h-have a nap and just have some late dinner instead.” He shushes you by planting a kiss on your forehead. 

You were about to protest, but as soon as Shoto shut his eyes, you didn’t bother doing so anymore.

You plant a kiss on his knuckles, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too Sho. Happy anniversary.”

#shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shoto todoroki smut #todoroki smut #shoto smut #bnha smut #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x y/n #shoto x y/n #shoto todoroki x reader smut #shoto x reader smut #todoroki x reader smut

[milkiane]

princess’ approval

pairings: colin zabel x reader

warnings: profanities, insecure colin, implications of sex

word count: 1109

note: colin, my beloved. requested.

“zabel!” mare scolded irritably, “this is the fourth time i had to pull you out of daydreaming, what the fuck is up with you today?”

colin snapped out of the trance he was in, rubbing his face in annoyance for slipping into another stupor, “i’m sorry, mare. it’s just that- i’ve got this big date tonight, the first one i’m taking out again ever since…”

pausing a bit, he shook his head a bit and sipped on his coffee, “i just don’t want to mess it up, y’know?”

mare sighed, tossing the case file aside, “look zabel, don’t fret it, just be your… usual happy-go-lucky self and bring her to bed at the end of the night-”

“mare!” colin’s cheeks flushed, slowly sinking onto the uncomfortable chair.

“what? my point is, there’s nothing to worry about, alright? if she’s the right one, then good for you. if not, then too bad.”

“i don’t know if this is supposed to be helping me,” colin groaned, massaging his temple to ease the headache he got from overthinking the possible outcomes, “mare, what if- what if she isn’t as excited as i am for this date?”

“i don’t think ‘excited’ is the word i’d use to describe you right now,” mare snorted, organizing her work table, “you’re definitely showing the wrong flags for excitement.”

colin ignored her, stressfully running a hand through his hair. too rough that he’s probably close to ripping his hair away, “what if i do or say something wrong? no- what if i’m just a distraction she needs, mare? what if-”

“zabel!” mare interrupted him, making colin lift his face away from his hands, “look, i’ve got a divorced husband who practically lives in my backyard and a booty call relationship with this writer, i don’t think i’m the one you should be babbling this to.”

colin made a disgusted face at the mention of his partner’s sex life, “mare-”

“just go get ready, zabel. i’ll take care of what’s left,” she dismissed him, getting back to rendering the file. she looked up for a moment, an aghast expression on his face, “what are you still doing here?”

“are you sure? shift doesn’t end until-”

“yes, i’m sure! now, go,” mare shooed him, watching as he gathered his things and his thermos. once she made sure that he left, mare leaned back against her chair and let out a chuckle.

bedroom unkempt and chaotic, you groaned in annoyance. your clothes were thrown around; on your bed, your chair, and on the floor. seemingly having an awful time trying to pick an outfit impeccable for the date.

flopping down on your untidy bed, you stared at the ceiling. you had at least an hour and a half before your date would come and pick you up.

and as if to save you from your own peril, your 6-year-old sister knocked and entered your room, “what happened in here?”

her pink and bouffant princess dress springing up with each step she takes. after inspecting your shameful room, she turned around to face the lump on the bed in which she calls her sister, “i thought you were going to meet with your prince charming, y/n?”

“i am, love,” you sighed, rubbing your face in exhaustion, “i don’t know what to wear. maybe you could help me?”

love lee beamed up in excitement, “yes!”

and soon enough, the both of you commenced a mini fashion show. music blasting from your speakers, clothes were thrown from left and right, trying to find the perfect getup to wear.

“this one? with these shoes or…?”

“no,”

“but you haven’t even seen outfit number two!”

clad in an ornate suit, bouquet of roses on the passenger seat, colin parked his car and stopped for a moment. he stared at himself through the rearview mirror, “you’ve got this, colin. you’ve got the flowers, a reservation for the restaurant, and possible things to talk about that would not grant you any embarrassment. just walk to the front door, knock, greet whoever opens the door politely, and open the car door for her like a gentleman. yeah.”

with one more intake of a deep breath, he got out of the car with the flowers in hand.

the door opened almost as soon as he knocked, as if whoever opened it has been waiting for his arrival for hours now.

although just when he was about to greet the person, no one was in sight.

that was until a little ‘ahem’ caught his attention. his gaze fell onto the little girl that he failed to notice. crouching down, he smiled at her, “hi there, is y/n around?”

love lee stared at him with a small smile, but before she could even answer about where her sister’s whereabouts are, the bouquet of pretty flowers caught her eye, “ooh! is that for her? those are pretty, mr prince charming,”

mr prince charming? huh.

picking up one stem of a rose, colin gave it to her, “a beautiful flower for a beautiful princess.”

the little girl giggled and smelled the rose, taking quite the liking to the prince who’ll swoop her sister right off her feet.

“is that him, love lee?” your voice echoed from the living room. you were trying to make sure everything was alright before leaving your sister at your friend’s house.

“i think it is, he brought some pretty flowers for you, y/n!” she replied, a big smile on her face.

making a turn to where the front door was, you couldn’t help but let a smile grace your lips, “hi there, detective,”

“holy shi-” he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he tried to recorrect himself, “holy sheep! yeah, wow.”

chuckling, you draped your bag and love lee’s over your shoulder, “would you mind if we drop my sister off at my friends? it would just be a minute, i swear.”

colin shook his head, “i don’t mind, don’t worry. just lead the way.”

but before you could even take another step, colin suddenly spoke up once again, “oh! these are for you, y/n,”

you smiled softly, grabbing the flowers from his hand, “let me go get a vase for these, thanks colin.”

once you were out of sight, colin still staring dreamily at the place where you once stood, love lee grabbed his hands and pulled it a bit, making the love-struck man look down at her.

“she likes you,” she whispered, evidently making every worry and distress colin once had disappear.

“you think so?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.

nodding in approval, the little girl replied, “i know so.”

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#colin zabel #mare of easttown #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel fluff #colin zabel blurb #colin zabel oneshot #colin zabel x you #colin zabel x y/n #evan peters #evan peters x reader #useramourtentiaa #tuserliane

[growing-yet-into-magic]

The Dabbler’s Week:

or, Seven Days of Noncommittal Witchcraft.

(Image source)

Hello, Stranger! Do you know nothing about the craft? Do you hate reading? Well, this is still text, but you can always copy-paste it into a text-to-voice program if you like. This is a full week of witchcraft. No theory. No extremely long incantations. Nothing to memorize. Just little things that might be fun to try out if you want to test out witchcraft for a full week. It’s commitment free and secular, I promise. Let’s begin!

Day One: Scrounge up some stuff.

Find yourself some loose knicknacks. Jewelry, tealights, cool rocks, buttons, odds and ends, sewing needles, incense, matches, lighters- anything you think has value to the corvid in you. Toss it into a bag-- the bag should be large enough to fit inside of another, more useful bag (like a purse or a backpack), but shouldn’t be too small as to not fit your cool trinkets. Toss in an extra few pennies! If they’re not shiny enough, feel free to clean your pennies before rinsing them off and throwing them in the bag. This will be our Bribe Money (tm). This bag’s contents will be part of your week of witchcraft, so be careful not to lose anything!

Day Two: Go outside.

You’re not going to clean your room. If your room wasn’t already clean, you’re not going to make it any cleaner than it already was. Instead, go scope out a private, quiet place outside, in your backyard, in a park, or another other solitary quiet space. Somewhere you can take yourself and retreat for a little bit. You’ll be filling it with as many little trinkets as you can, especially the items from your bag-- cool rocks, necklaces, tealight candles, a thermos of tea, incense, whatever you can scrounge up, so make sure it’s a place where 1) you can sit comfortably and 2) you won’t be disturbed. Once you’ve found a place you want to claim as a comfortable working space, toss down a couple pennies and thank the space for its hospitality this week. (And when you come back, remember to bring food!) Don’t forget to pack everything up and take it home with you when you’re done each day.

Day Three: Cleansing the bod.

You, like most people, are made of flesh, although the amount of flesh changes from person to person. (If you or a loved one have already achieved etheric immortality, please tell me. I have a cat that could use the deets.)

Surrounded by energy constantly, you’re bound to pick up stuff you don’t want to actually be stuck to you. Dump some Morton’s into a bath and scrub yourself from top to bottom, hair and all. You can rinse and wash for real after the bath, but for now, the salt is just to get rid of unwanted energies and influences from your mortal form. If you have dried rosemary in the spice cabinet, steep that in hot water and add it to the bath. (Without burning yourself, please. Don’t pour it onto yourself or into the bath while you are in it.)

After you are done bathing, use the salt water to wash any trinkets and items from day one you intend to use for this week. Please ensure that 1) your items will not break or deteriorate if washed in saltwater and 2) that it all dries properly overnight. Your mood will definitely be broken if some things begin to mold or if salt-soaked items become encrusted with salt. Gentle dabbing with a damp washcloth should be safe for more delicate items.

Day Four: Wards.

Find that little happy place from day 2 again. Populate it with your day one items. Light those candles. Arrange your things. 

“Only my hands are lain upon this, only my eyes may it see. Only I may move and adjust this, for it only belongs to me.”

Repeat thrice over any item you like, especially any of your trinkets in your bag. Or on your bag. Repeat it four times around the four corners of your little space (approximate the shape as need be.) No one can touch your things. No one can violate the sanctity of the little space you’ve built. They’re protected from thievery and tampering, but don’t lose them! Nothing is 110% foolproof.

Day Five: Divination.

On the way to your sacred place on the fifth day, pick up three rocks. They should be of relatively equal size and weight, though they may vary in shape and coloration. 

One is for love, one is for work, and one is for family. Tell each stone which one it is meant to be. Do not forget which one is which. If you need help determining one from the other, mark them, paint them, whatever is easier for you. Just make sure you can recognize them.

At your sacred place, center yourself, standing. Drop the three stones.

The ones closer to you indicate more likely changes in that part of your life; the ones farthest from you will not have any significant change for a while. Now you know.

Day Six: Spellwork: Prosperity

Find that little happy place from day 2 again. Populate it. Light those candles. Arrange your things.  

Find yourself a medium-value coin. Not something you’ll be horrified losing, but something you could have used elsewhere, like to pay for parking. The higher the value, the higher the sacrifice. Take a sharpie, or other permanent marker.

Write on it what you want to really make yourself a good life. This won’t work for anything huge- it can’t buy you a new house, for instance- but something small, traceable, like passing a test, winning a bet, keeping healthy. “I will pass a test.” “I will win this bet.” “I will stay healthy.” Whatever it it, make it a definite statement. You and the coin have to believe it will happen.

Bury it in the place you’ve claimed, and declare that whatever finds it, whether it is returned to the fabric of the universe or claimed by a spirit, must accept it as payment for granting your wish. If it does come to pass, the coin is lost to you now. Do not try to reclaim it.

Day Seven: Spellwork: Blessings

Find that little happy place from day 2 again, bringing a writing utensil and a slip of paper. Populate it. Light those candles. Arrange your things.

Now, for those of you who are more of a Woo persuasion, we are going to *~visualize~*. If you cannot do this for one reason or another, or you do not want to, just concentrate on the task at hand.

Pick a candle. If you cannot have a candle, pick something with an energy circuit in it, like an electric tealight, or LED light strings, or, in an emergency, a “candle” app on your cell phone. (This is not preferred. I have reasons, but it’s a whole other beast so lets not).

Think of someone you love. Got it? It could be a friend, family member, pet, anything that lives and breathes and shares good things with you. Remember the good times you have. Write some good memories down on the slip of paper. Think of the things you like about them. Write some good nouns on there and, some cool action words. And, finally, you have to focus on the feelings you have for them. You do not have to write this part down if you can hold onto that feeling really strongly. If this task is hard for you, write them down instead.

Repeat after me.

“These warm thoughts I send to you, with all my love intact; these good things to stay with you, with all the truth of fact; that blessings come your way without deceit or in disguise, that true passage meets your feet, good works met by your hands and eyes. I send this love from me to you.”

Bury/burn the paper wherever possible. It belongs to the universe now. Let good things come their way. 

And that’s the Dabbler’s Week of noncommittal witchcraft! Questions, comments, critiques? Concerns? Results, or lack thereof? Feel free to give any feedback if you try this regimen; I’ve forgotten the hang-ups of trying new things in witchcraft, so if this is intimidating for someone who has not tried witchcraft yet, I’m sorry if I’m out of touch! And, of course, if you like this and want to support my works, tips can go through my ko-fi.

Take care, stay safe, and Blessings! <3

#growing-yet #witchblr #witchcraft #baby witch tips #novice witches

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 8: 27 Weeks Pregnant

Summary: The guys and their wives take a drive up to Dallas for a Creation convention. The weekend goes great until an uninvited guest shows up. 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 6.4K+

Warnings: Language, angst, stalker scenarios, psuedo-kidnapping

Author’s Note: I know this was uber delayed, but school... anyway I hope it lives up to your expectations. Congrats to @waywardbeanie @jensengirl83 and @akshi8278 on getting your questions into the fic and a huge thank you to everyone that participated. I wish I could have put all the questions in but it would have just been too long of a chapter. But please know I really do appreciate you all. The song sung in this chapter is by The Highwomen called Crowded Table, check it out if you’ve not heard it before. And of course many thank you’s to @emoryhemsworth​ for being the best beta xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The sound of ice dropping from the refrigerator and into the metal thermos clanged around the kitchen. Once she was satisfied with the amount in her water bottle, she topped it off with water. As she turned around, screwing the lid into place, the soft hums of her husband could be heard as he came out of their bedroom, their suitcases trailing behind him. 

“You know,” she started, the humming coming from her partner reminding her of something, “you still haven’t told me what song you chose to sing tonight.”

“And you know I told you it was a surprise,” he replied, placing the luggage out of the way and coming to stand next to her at the island. 

“I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t.” Dimples formed on his cheeks as he kept his smile tight-lipped, his wife rolling his eyes at her. 

“Please! Just tell me,” she jutted out her lower lip in a vain attempt at mocking her brother’s puppy-eyed look. 

“Fine, I chose “Having My Baby,’” Jensen sighed, his shoulders sagging. 

“You did not! Please tell me you are kidding.” 

“What’s wrong with Paul Anka? That song is a classic.” The actor stood up taller, his voice growing defensive. 

“I hope to god you are kidding because believe me when I say that if you so much as mention your ‘seed’ in front of hundreds of fans, I’m taking this baby and I’m leaving.” Y/n pointed to the still-growing bump attached to her abdomen before flicking it towards the door, the most serious expression written on her face. 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine,” Jensen cleared his throat, and she knew it was coming before he even had the chance to open his mouth again. “The need inside you, I see it showin’, oh, the seed inside you, baby, do you feel it growin’—”

Y/n’s hands flew to her ears, the ‘la, la, la’ falling from her lips in an attempt to drown him out. His face split into a wide grin as he snatched her wrists and pulled his wife into his chest, placing a soft kiss to her nose before her lips. 

“You’d be so lucky, baby, but no, it’s a surprise. You will find out tonight, so let it go.” Jensen released her from his grip as the security system chimed. It noted movement near the garage door just before the couple heard the voice of her brother coming from the other end of the house. 

“Let’s go, Ackles, we’ve got three antsy kids in the car and need to hit the road pronto!” Y/n snatched her backpack and water bottle from the counter as Jensen grabbed their bags and headed towards the garage. The guys took the bags to stuff them in the trunk as Y/n set the house alarm. 

Jensen pulled open the passenger side rear door to the Padalecki’s SUV, helping his wife into her seat before climbing in the front passenger seat. They greeted Jared’s kids as the family set out on the road towards Dallas and the Supernatural convention. 

****

The sign that flew by on the side of the highway indicated that Dallas was about eighty miles out still, giving them at least another hour until they made it. The kids had long since fallen asleep in the backseat, their bellies full of snacks and their distractions in hand. Y/n glanced back at them before digging out the bag of Goldfish she had packed for her snack. Before she could even get it completely open, her husband’s hand appeared between the side of the vehicle and the seat, palm up. The woman chuckled before dumping a handful into his hand. He transferred the crackers to his left hand before returning his right to its original place to rest it on her calf. Jensen ran his fingers up and down her leg, the action soothing to both of them. 

From the seat next to her, Y/n could see her sister-in-law turned to her, a knowing grin on her face. For being an actress, Gen sure did have an awful poker face. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just really happy you two found each other,” the smile on Gen’s face growing wider as she spoke, the eyes of the men in the front seats flickering back to her. Jared glanced over from the driver’s seat just quick enough to see what Gen was referring to. There was a twitch of a smile on his face too before he covered it up to fake a gag. “Speaking of, how was Toronto?”

“Oh, I’m in love with Toronto!” Y/n gushed, her mind going back to the trip she made to visit her husband on set. Because of the break-in, they were making up filming days and he couldn’t get away, so the couple decided to celebrate their first anniversary together with her going to visit him. “The city is so beautiful, albeit not as beautiful as Vancouver, but there is just something about it. It reminds me of New York a lot, but like, cleaner.” 

“You two had a good weekend?” 

“We did. Jensen took me to Alo for dinner, and I know I’m pregnant, but it was the best food I’ve ever had in my life. I wanted to take the chef home with me.” Thinking back to the dish she had, Y/n ran a hand across her abdomen, the memory of her baby coming to life after the meal making her smile to herself. 

“I believe you, even if there is something about being pregnant that just makes everything taste better,” Gen giggled along with her sister-in-law, the two of them sharing a secret that their husbands would never understand. “I’m glad you had a good time with what you had.”

“Well, either way, I was going into my third trimester. I was not up for some extravagant trip across the globe. My back hurts too much to pretend to be relaxed.” As she thought about the way her body had continued to change as the finish line came onto the horizon, it was like her body throbbed in response. The makeup artist flexed her limbs, rolling out the kinks from sitting for too long in one position. 

“I’m sorry girl, but it only gets worse from here,” Gen scrunched her nose, wishing she could tell her anything but the truth. 

Y/n sighed, the action rolling through her whole body, “I was afraid of that.”

****

Clif was waiting at the back doors to the convention center of the Hilton where Creation was hosting their convention this weekend. He was there to escort them all inside as well as stay with Gen and Y/n during the show. Creation provided their own security for Jensen and Jared, so Clif was more than happy to spend time with his favorite girls. They were running a tad late, having hit traffic after dropping the kids off with Jensen’s parents who had graciously offered to babysit. 

“Hey, kid,” Clif greeted Y/n with a bear hug once they were inside, his large arms engulfing her and squeezing tight. “Let me look at ya.”

Y/n stepped back as he released her, running a hand over her now unmistakable bump to emphasize it underneath her maternity clothes. “Not much of a kid anymore.” 

“No, you aren’t, are ya? Went and let this idiot over here corrupt you.” Clif locked his arm around Jensen’s neck, bringing him into his chest to ruffle his hair with the opposite hand. The group laughed and Jensen struggled to get out of his hold, his hands immediately flying to fix his hair once Clif relented. 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Jared,” Jensen scowled at his friends, who shared a look and a shrug. He took his wife’s hand and moved to continue down the hall before pausing to turn back. “And I’ll have you know, she was already corrupted when I got ahold of her. All I had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride.” 

A gasp of her husband’s name fell from her open mouth as he tossed everyone a wink and pulled Y/n deeper into the hotel. Her surprise morphed into a giggle as he pulled her along, her cheeks flaring with residual embarrassment. Her family was bound to push him too far one of these days, and she was just waiting for him to drop some sort of bomb on their unsuspecting ears. She just hadn’t anticipated it would be today. 

Jensen had been in a particularly good mood since that morning. Y/n couldn’t place whether it was the excitement of being at a convention again or if it was being home, but whatever had him smiling like an idiot she was thankful for. Jensen’s attitude had always been infectious, and right now she was thriving off of it, the joy of being able to make her forget about her swollen ankles and face. It was nice to be in the moment for once. 

Louden Swain was already starting their soundcheck on the main stage as she and Jensen entered the hall. Y/n let Jensen go and went to sit in the chairs in the front row to watch them busy themselves around the stage. She was alone until Clif, Jared, and Gen caught up and joined her in the seats. It didn’t take long for the band to run through everything with all their guest stars who would be performing with them. Jensen did a quick verse from “Like A Wrecking Ball” before also joining those that were in the audience. 

The fans could be heard already outside the doors to the hall, their excitement palpable even from a couple of hundred feet away. Not that she blamed them, Louden Swain always put on an amazing show, as did the rest of the cast who chose to join them. Her husband was obviously her favorite to watch; the rough honey trickle of his voice had a way of splitting her soul in half. After that, she was obsessed with watching Briana. The woman was a powerhouse and had a way of captivating everyone watching her. It was no secret that she often found herself on YouTube watching Bri and her husband dueting “Shallow,” making it her most-watched video by far. 

Everyone was escorted to the green room while fans filled the hall, then Clif escorted them back to watch from the sidelines once the lights went down. They took a seat in the chairs that had been put aside for them against the wall, joining in the squeals of the audience when the guys took the stage. 

Louden Swain captivated everyone with their songs and stage presence, as per usual, but when Rob introduced Jensen onto the stage, it was like a train had just rammed into the wall of the hotel. She could feel the floor shaking underneath the insanity that ripped through his fans in the seats of the audience. 

“Well, good evening Dallas!” Jensen bounded on the stage, the leather jacket he was wearing somehow looking that much better in the lights of the stage. The Texan pulled Rob into a tight hug before taking his place in front of the microphone stand. The stubble that had arrived in just a few days of not shaving was more evident on his jaw and neck as he craned it sideways to work the stand up to his height. Y/n had to admit he looked absolutely scrumptious. 

“I’ve got a new song for you guys tonight that the guys have been so gracious to learn for me.” Jensen paused for the screams from the crowd before continuing his introduction. “This one is for my wife. I love you, honey.” He cast his eyes to where she was seated, watching the smile that spread across his features and letting it calm her anxious heart.

You can hold my hand

When you need to let go

I can be your mountain

When you're feeling valley-low

I can be your streetlight

Showing you the way home

You can hold my hand

When you need to let go

 I want a house with a crowded table

And a place by the fire for everyone

Let us take on the world while we’re young and able

And bring us back together when the day is done

Jensen’s foot tapped against the stage as he found his groove in the first verse. Almost instantly, Y/n recognized the opening chords to the song making her heart flutter in her chest. She’d first discovered this song before they’d even found out they were expecting. There was an instant connection to the lyrics, and in typical Y/n fashion, she had played the song on repeat until she knew the lyrics backward and forwards. She really couldn’t believe he’d remembered it. 

If we want a garden

We’re gonna have to sow the seed

Plant a little happiness

Let the roots run deep

If it’s love that we give

Then it’s love that we reap

If we want a garden

We're gonna have to sow the seed

After everything the two of them had been through the past few months, the lyrics falling from his lips brought tears to her eyes. She chose to completely ignore the fact that she was pregnant. This was his way of reminding her of that night and the promise he’d made. The actor was more than ready to start a family with her, and he would keep reminding her until he ran out of breath.

The door is always open

Your picture’s on my wall

Everyone’s a little broken

And everyone belongs

Yeah, everyone belongs

 I want a house with a crowded table

And a place by the fire for everyone

Let us take on the world while we’re young and able

And bring us back together when the day is done

And bring us back together when the day is done

If Y/n thought that the screams that greeted Jensen on the stage were deafening, it had nothing on the roar that now filled the hall, never mind the thrumming of her heart in her chest. She was sure time had stopped. Her husband blew a kiss to the audience before bowing off stage. It was his disappearance from before the mic that had on her feet without a second thought, chasing after him behind the stage and to the green room. 

She burst through the doors, her eyes meeting his as he turned to the sound of the latch. Without a second thought to the others in the room, the pregnant woman launched herself into her husband’s arms. Both of them dug their faces into the embrace, knowing just what the other needed at that moment. 

“You’re right, I did love this surprise,” she mumbled against his neck. Jensen ran a hand down her hair, his arms instinctively squeezing her tighter to him as she spoke. 

“Anything for you, babe.”

****

Behind the scenes of conventions was far less exhilarating for the guests than it was for the fans attending. It was quiet in the green room, most people eating or napping in between events they were to attend, which was why Y/n and Gen chose to stay behind the next morning and let the kids sleep in as much as possible. The guys were up at the crack of dawn to get to the hotel in time for the gold panel, and neither wanted to deal with pulling three little ones out of bed that early. 

It was nearly midday by the time the girls had wrangled the kids into the car and to the hotel. Clif met them at the back door much like he had done the night before, ready to escort them wherever they wanted to go. When they arrived in the green room, the guys were off to their respective photo op rooms. 

The kids took center stage when they got there, livening up the room in an instant. Odette fed off the attention far more than her brothers did but being the youngest, that didn’t come as a shock to anyone. Y/n wanted to hit the vendor’s room before her husband got back and they had to be on stage for the main panel. There were often hidden gems at some of the booths and she wanted to support the small business that set up there. She invited Gen to join her, and naturally, Odette wanted to tag along. The two of them left the boys in the capable hands of Kim and Briana before grabbing Clif and heading out. 

The room was bustling with people who were in between activities when they entered. Y/n picked up the small girl and put her on her hip so she could keep better track of her, not that Odette protested. They made their way to a booth surrounded by original artwork. Most of the displayed pieces were Supernatural related, but there were a few other pieces that encompassed other shows and movies, as well as art that encompassed just about anything else. Y/n got the artist’s information, intending to order an original piece from her. 

From there, it didn’t take long for the room to realize who had joined them. The hushed whispers of the con attendees could be heard as they moved on to a shop that sold handmade jewelry. Luckily the looming presence of Clif was enough to keep people at bay. He was very good at subtly guiding those who dared to walk up to them away from the scene. Right now they preferred peace and would greet some people once they were finished looking. 

Gen bought something from the jeweler for Odette, seeing as once the toddler set her mind to something, she was relentless. Then the trio moved on to a few more booths before acknowledging the fans in the room. Clif took Odette from Y/n while the wives talked with some people in the room. There were many congratulations and asks for photos which Y/n politely declined while Gen agreed.

With a glance at her watch, Y/n signaled to Gen it was time to head back. They said goodbye to the fans and headed back to the green room. Jared and Jensen were back already when they entered, eating a quick snack before they had to go back on stage. 

Jensen pushed his chair back from the table when he spotted his wife. He patted his thigh as she made her way towards him and she took a tentative seat in his lap. The actor placed a kiss on the underside of her jaw before offering her the food on his plate. She decided on a carrot, biting into the hard vegetable as her husband spoke. 

“I missed you this morning.”

“I know, I missed you too. Still hate waking up to an empty bed,” she frowned, tossing the other half of the carrot in her mouth. 

“Just a few more weeks, then I’m done and it’s just you, me, and this baby,” Jensen promised, resting his large hand over her growing abdomen. He ran his thumb over the swell of her stomach as she contemplated his words. 

“Promise?” She cocked her head, knowing full well he intended every word. Before he could answer, the Creation handlers appeared to grab the boys and bring them to the stage. 

“Promise,” he kissed her again before urging her off his lap so they could head out. Gen rounded up the kids to go and Jared picked up his daughter to carry her out to the show. Jensen and Y/n walked hand in hand down the back hallway until they had to go separate ways. Jared handed Odette over to his wife and they were off to get show-ready. 

The girls and the kids followed behind Clif and took the empty seats in the front row far off on the right side of the stage, the lights lowering just as they were getting settled. Rob and Rich appeared and did their usual bit before introducing the boys onto the stage.

Watching them together was something Y/n always enjoyed. The two actors played off of each other so well and never failed to make her chuckle. Especially now, she loved that after everything that had happened, their relationship was not hindered. They were truly brothers on and off camera, and Y/n couldn’t ask for anything better. 

Jensen went to his usual chair on the right side of the stage, pulling it more forward and center before sitting down as the crowd continued to cheer for them. Jared followed suit, spinning his chair around and putting as close to Jensen’s as was humanly possible. Her husband frowned and leaned away from Jared, who only played along and leaned into his best friend. 

Jensen brought the mic to his lips and scowled, “Dude, why are you so close to me?”

“Cause we’re family now, officially bonded by blood,” Jared retorted, still trying to lean into Jensen as he continued to pull away. The older man rolled his eyes at his brother-in-law’s antics but couldn’t fight the smile on his face as the crowd cheered at Jared’s words. 

“Don’t remind me.” Jared leaned into Jensen, whispering something in his ear before the pair shared another laugh. Jared spun around and started the questioning. They got a few typical questions about Supernatural and the final season, nothing too crazy, but one specifically piqued Y/n’s interest. 

The girl asking the question stood not even twenty feet from her at the mic on the right side of the room. “My question is for Jensen.” Her voice was steady, but she was looking at her feet as she spoke. “Now that you are on The Boys, the show has far more carnage than Supernatural, and you have said in the past that you dislike being covered in fake blood, so I was wondering if you have come to terms with it, or has your hatred only grown?” 

Jensen threw his head back in laughter at her question, surprised that he hadn’t been asked it before today. “Well, you are right, I have not been shy about my contempt of stage blood, but nowadays I do find it far less annoying than I once did. I think I got over it filming season fifteen. There is nothing like staring at a beautiful woman to take your mind off of the stickiness. Y/n was a great distraction.” 

“Alright, that’s my baby sister you are talking about,” Jared faked a gag before dropping his mic in his usual fashion as the crowd let out a collective ‘awe.’ Jensen shrugged before moving on to the next question. He rounded to the next fan on the opposite side of the stage. 

“Hi,” the boys said in unison, bright smiles on their faces for the girl.

“First of all, I want to congratulate Jensen on the pregnancy. So, my question is for Jensen and Jared. Jensen, since you learned about the pregnancy, has your perception of life and love changed, and if so, how? And for Jared, being a father yourself, what are some things or advice you would like to share with Jensen? How has becoming a dad changed you? Thank you!” The girl stuttered around her words, her nerves of having the guy’s undivided attention seeping through her voice. 

“What?!” Jared dropped his jaw as he turned his head back to look at his brother in law in the seat next to him. “You’re pregnant?” 

Jensen leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his torso, “Do you think I’m showing yet?”

“No dude, you look good, women everywhere hate you.” The duo fell into a fit of laughter, their heads were thrown back in unison at their stupid joke. Naturally, the whole crowd joined in. How could one not when those two were cracking up? It was infectious. 

“I’m sorry about my friend here. Thank you, we are very excited.” Jensen leaned around Jared to smile at the fan that stood with a Random Acts volunteer’s arm around her shoulders. “As for your question, it didn’t really hit me until we heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. Anyone who has kids knows how important that moment is. I never thought I could love my wife more than I already did, but there is something about looking at the woman you love carrying your child. It’s a completely different kind of connection to another human being. As for our baby, well, she was just a flicker on the screen then, but I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for that flicker.”

“Y/n is gonna kill you later for saying ‘she,’” Jared cut in, but Jensen just smirked knowingly. The man always had to cut the emotion with a joke, something the pair of them had in common. Life was too short to always be so serious anyway. 

“Well, what about you dad?” 

“What are you talking about?”

“She asked you a question too, so answer it,” Jensen reminded his costar, much to the amusement of everyone around them. 

“Oh yeah. Well, I’ve given Jensen tons of advice. He’s constantly coming to me for my superior wisdom.” Jensen frowned behind him, his eye roll visible even from the back of the room. “Nah, but in all seriousness, the best piece of advice I could ever give him would be to just be there for your wife, whatever she needs. She just gave you a child, the least you could do is get her some water and snacks during feedings.” 

In the shadows of the audience, Gen leaned over to Y/n, whispering in her ear, “I think he’s done that maybe twice.” Y/n laughed along with her friend, knowing full well that sounded just like Jared. 

“Being a dad has taught me an abundance of patience and understanding. While they are your kids, they are also humans with real feelings and thoughts. It’s important to listen to your children, and I mean really listen to them. It’s not easy some days, but what they’ll remember in twenty years is whether mom and dad were there or not, so that’s what’s most important to me.” The girl whispered a shaky ‘thank you’ to the guys before they moved on. There were more questions about Supernatural, Walker, and The Boys, but what Y/n didn’t expect was another question regarding her, the words cutting her like ice as they left the fan’s mouth.

"Now that Y/N is pregnant, how hard is it being away from her while filming? How do you handle the emotions of being away from your wife in this kind of situation?" The fan had a bright smile on her face as she asked a question that was sure to have the fans falling even more in love with her husband and the amazing man he was. 

Gen’s hand fell on her shoulder as she noticed her sister-in-law’s body tense, awaiting the answer from the actor on stage. Jensen turned his gaze to her, offering a small smile to her before turning back to the fan. 

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I feel like I’m dumping everything on her shoulders and leaving her to figure it out alone, and I hate that. You know, I made a promise to her on our wedding day that I would always be there for her, and I feel like I’m breaking that promise. On the nights that the baby is rolling around and not letting her get any sleep, she will FaceTime me to show me, and anyone who’s ever seen this knows it’s just as cool as it is creepy when it looks like the kid is trying to escape from her stomach.” Jared nodded in agreement alongside him as the audience laughed at his admission. “My heart clenches in those moments because I know there are a hundred other moments that I don’t get to be there for, but even more so that my wife doesn’t get to have me next to her for. I know it’s just as hard on her, experiencing all these new milestones alone. We are both just very lucky that she has Jared and Gen so close. Those two have been her rock through this whole thing.” 

“If there is anyone who can handle it, it’s Y/n,” Jared cut in, sensing his friend’s growing discomfort. “My sister is one of the strongest women I know, so don’t worry about her too much, Jay.”

“Right, yes my mistake, what was I thinking worrying about my pregnant wife?” The shorter Texan played up his words with a stiff nod of his head, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. The guys thanked the fan for her question just as Rob and Rich came back on stage, starting up the last question song. Y/n excused herself then to go to the restroom, assuring Clif she’d be okay and she would be right back, imploring him to stay with Gen and the kids.

The pregnant woman slipped past Creation security near the stage to the hall that led to the bathrooms. She sped down the hall on her toes, the urgency not hitting her until she stood up. Her mind was focused on getting to the bathroom, unconcerned about anything else until she was inside the first open stall. Y/n took care of her business, coming out of the stall to a figure standing directly across from her at the sinks. Her eyes trailed up the broad person who had their back to her until she met their eyes in the mirror.

“No!” The gasp left her lips, her feet instinctively stepping backward until her back hit the stall. 

“Hi, Y/n,” the man’s voice was rough, the sound of grating against every nerve in her body. It perfectly matched the smirk that he held as he turned to face her, the same smirk that had been haunting her dreams for weeks now. The woman swallowed around the lump in her throat as her pulse rose, the thrum of it beating behind her ears. 

“How?” It was the only thing she could force past her lips as her mind raced through all the possible outcomes of this encounter. If anything, she was trying to buy time until someone came looking for her, but she had no idea how long that could be. 

“I expected a hello, but I guess I can’t really blame you,” the guy shrugged, his nonchalance unsettling Y/n even more than she already was. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time now.”

“Waiting for me?”

“It was only a matter of time before we found our way to each other,” he took a step closer to Y/n, her heart skipping in her chest at the action. No matter how frightened she was at this moment, Y/n refused to back down. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin at the man. 

“Wh-what do you want?” Her tongue tripped over her words and the woman fought to control her breaths, letting the air out slowly through her nose as she refused to look away from the stalker across from her. 

“I want you. It’s always been you. For years I’ve waited for you to come to your senses about that actor you call your husband, but it seems you may need a little push,” he explained as his feet began to pace in a line, cutting off her only route to the door of the bathroom, to her freedom. 

“Excuse me?” Y/n was genuinely confused now, her adrenaline-soaked brain struggling to comprehend what he was telling her. 

“He’s all wrong for you. The bastard married you and ran off to Canada the second he could, leaving you to tend to his house, and now look at you, knocked up with his spawn and he still could give a rat’s ass about you.” The man’s voice was rising in tone as he became agitated, with what exactly she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out. 

“My husband loves me—”

“No!” He rounded on her, his pacing halted as he looked at her. “He’s poison. He doesn’t care about you or your career, he only cares about what you can do for him, but me? I’ve been your number one fan since the beginning. With me, your possibilities are limitless. Nobody could stop us.” 

It was now even more apparent to her at that moment that this guy was far more unhinged than she had originally thought. He believed with every fiber of his being that what he was saying was the truth, she could see it in the fire raging behind his eyes. It was the same fire that had her biting her tongue from firing back. She had more than just herself to think about in this situation, and she had no one way of knowing how he would react, but she also knew that staying in that bathroom was not an option either. 

It was now or never. He was no longer pacing across her escape route, and she wasn’t that far from the door. If she could at least get on the other side of it, she could create a commotion to draw attention. The second his eyes flickered from her own, she leaped into action, setting her focus on the door, and only the door. As her fingers wrapped around the handle, she felt his rough grip on her bicep. She was only able to get the door open a fraction of an inch, but it was enough. Her frantic eyes met with the shocked ones of Gen and Clif on the other side of the door. 

“Damn it!” He hollered as he yanked her back. The door didn’t even have time to close before Clif was pushing his way into the bathroom after her, watching as Y/n stumbled and nearly fell on her ass from the force of the stranger’s pull. 

“Alright, let her go,” Clif’s voice was calm and demanding as he assessed the scene in front of him. “Don’t make this worse for you than it already is.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” the guy chuckled dryly, the sound of it finally breaking whatever false sense of confidence Y/n had created. Preparing for a struggle, she squeezed her eyes shut, the action sending the welled up tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“It is that easy. Because trust me, if you hurt her, it will be the last thing you ever do.” The sound of the bathroom door opening again had her opening her eyes, a few of Creation’s security guards filing in to back up Clif. Knowing he was outnumbered, the man roughly released his grip on Y/n’s arm. The pregnant woman scrambled away from him, past security, and out into the hallway. 

“Y/n...” The sudden grip around her wrist startled the traumatized woman, her body reacting against it until her gaze met the familiar green eyes of her husband. Her body relaxed in an instant, throwing her into his arms as a sob racked through her body. Jensen squeezed his wife in his arms, holding her shaking frame close to his chest as she let out all her emotions. He shared a look with Jared before burying himself into her as well, just as relieved to have her back as she was to be free. 

It had only been about thirty seconds since Gen had come running back from checking on Y/n to tell them that something was wrong, but it was all it took. He felt his heart sink as he looked at the fear in Gen’s eyes. He and Jared were up from their chairs like lightning, allowing their long legs to get them to the bathroom with security hot on their tail. It killed him to have to wait outside, but he knew it was the best chance of getting her out of there safely, so he bit his tongue and did as he was told. None of that mattered now anyway, she was safe in his arms, and that was the most important thing. 

It felt like an eternity later when the cops showed up, taking the place of the unarmed security detail. They emerged with the guy in cuffs, a deep scowl on his face as he was carted out of the hotel, Clif and the security following behind. 

“Clif, what the fuck happened?!” Jensen growled, fury about the day’s events creeping upon him, seeing the guy that had his hands on his wife only fanning the fire in his belly. 

“I’m sorry, Jensen—” Clif's words were cut off by the raging actor. 

“You’re sorry? You were supposed to be protecting her!” Y/n lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder, using the back of her sleeve to wipe away the tears and snot from her face. The man’s whole body was tense, the anger rolling off of him of barely perceptible vibrations. 

“Hey, Jay,” she put her hands on his face, making him look at her. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Clif to look at his wife, his face softening as he took in her fragile state. “It’s not his fault. I told him to stay with Gen.”

“Y/n/n...”

“No. Clif is not to blame right now and you know it,” Y/n lowered her voice, the little bit of sternness she was able to muster dissipating. “You’re scared and I am too, but don’t take that out on him.” Jensen nodded at her, leaning in to kiss her forehead with trembling lips.

“I’m sorry, Clif,” Jensen breathed, his eyes opening slowly to look back up at his long time friend. Still trying to come to his senses over what had just happened, he had one arm around his wife, refusing to break contact with her. The fear of being out of control was still too overpowering. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” The two men shared a nod. Emotions were still on high, and everyone needed a moment to take in the events that had just transpired. Before anything else could be said, one of the cops cut through the tense scene playing out in the middle of the hotel hallway. He had a concerned look on his face, but he had a job to do too. 

“Ma’am, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

Main Panel Timestamps x/x

Part 9: 35 Weeks Pregnant 

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts​ @anaelsbrunette​ @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @deanbowlegsackles​ @deangirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @fangirl199813 @harryhook-lover​ @hoboal87​ @itsdesiree86​ @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you​ @lunarmoon8​ @neverland14353​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebeccathefangirl @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @stoneyggirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @traceyaudette​ @winchestergirl82​ @winqhster​ @zpandaqueen​

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x plus sized reader #jensen ackles x sister!padalecki #jared padalecki x sister!reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #spn #spn rpf #supernatural rpf #rpf #real person fiction #alex writes #mine #happiness continues

[mdawritings]

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 12

II.I

Masterlist

Warnings: References to violence, canon-typical descriptions of violence, crime scenes, and death.

Song(s): "Bruises" by Lewis Capaldi and "I Almost Do" by Taylor Swift

It’s almost eight years until you hear the name Aaron Hotchner again.

You’re anxiously awaiting the call about your reassignment within the FBI. You had completed your year of mandated leave, gone through the required psych evaluations, gone through the training protocols. You’re ready to get back into the action, or, at least, you’re ready enough to get back to work. That’s when you receive the final message.

Your reinstatement was to be within the Quantico headquarters. This way, the brass could keep a close eye on you, while still utilizing your skills in the best possible way. So you flew into Quantico late Saturday night, moving into the cheapest apartment you could find. It was in a terrible area but being out of work for a year leaves you without much spare cash to live lavishly. Without your government-issued weapon, you check the deadlock every time you turn your back to the door for too long.

You have hardly any furniture in the apartment, most of the decor being the piles and piles of boxes in the center of your living room. You’re exhausted, in every possible way, so you settle for a fast shower, during which you’re entirely paranoid someone is going to break into your apartment. You collapse onto your bed, barely having the energy to even put the sheets on the bed to make it. The call comes through your phone shortly after you fall asleep, which means you don’t check your messages until early Sunday.

“This is Erin Strauss of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I’m calling to inform you that the council has processed your psych evaluation and administered a new gun registration and badge for you. You will now be working under me as a profiler within the BAU. It is my understanding that you’ve taken quite a few profiling classes in your training as a negotiator and you’re well equipped for this job. There will be a slight adjustment period but nothing that I do not believe you are capable of handling. You will start in your new position on Monday. Meet me at my office and I can brief you about the basics and then Agent Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, will take it from there.”

You practically drop the phone. Your hands shake slightly, as you click off the phone and place it back onto your bedside table. You write Strauss an email in response, apologizing for missing her call, accepting the position, thanking her for the opportunity, and expressing your immense gratitude for such an esteemed position with such a great team. But that’s a lie. For a split second, you believe it's possible that this Aaron Hotchner is a completely different one than your Aaron Hotchner. You’ve never been a believer in fate or destiny. But for this to be a coincidence is simply unbelievable. Isn’t he supposed to be tormenting more students, torturing more girls, breaking more hearts? How did he end up as the BAU Unit Chief within the FBI?

You’re in shock, Strauss only leaving you about 24 hours to process it all and prepare for a new job. There’s no way you could request reassignment to a different unit. You’ve already been given your second chance. It’s now or never to get back into the FBI.

You’ve been out of work for a year. For a year, you’ve been struggling to cope with the loss of coworkers and innocent people. A loss that’s completely on your shoulders. Blood that’s on your hands. It was enough of an adjustment to get back to normal. Well as close to normal as can be. Your government-issued therapist, as you like to call her, attempted to dismantle this idea. She tried her best to remove the guilt from your mind, but after the government aid for the sessions ran out, you abandoned all hope of restoring yourself to the mental state you were in before. Everything in your life now is the after. You can’t live in the before. It’s too painful.

But now? Now it feels like all the work you’ve done to heal, to move on, to continue your life is rapidly unraveling in front of you. How would you adjust to seeing Aaron Hotchner once again? You hope that by now, he won’t have as much of an impact on you. You’ve experienced so much life, so much living, so much loss since then.

You’ve had other relationships, loved other people, slept with other people, but the impact that Hotch had on your life is permanent. When you think about it too long it feels ridiculous, the fact that a silly little fling in your early 20s has managed to change you so much. So much so, that now, at 29, you can still sense remnants of his impact on your life. They’re small moments, in which you realize that your behavior has changed so drastically over the years because of him. Your tongue is sharper. You stand up for yourself more often, and you never ever let anyone walk all over you the way he did.

You spend the day worrying yourself sick about the new position. You can’t turn it down. This job is your last chance.

Monday morning, your alarm rings wildly next to you in bed, but your eyes are already open. You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past hour unable to sleep. You’ve been tossing and turning restlessly, unable to focus on anything else but the last few memories you have of Aaron Hotchner. Your mind first goes to that last day of classes, thinking about the way he smiled at you from across his desk. The way that damn leather-bound book felt in your hands. The way that he kissed you. He made you feel so special. Your mind then travels to the rest of that weekend, one in which he managed to rip your heart out of your chest and tear it into a million little pieces.

You think of the last thing you heard from him. Those same words he had spoken to you once before, but spoken to someone else. At that moment, you realized that you were nothing special. You were just another girl Professor Hotchner used for sex.

You’re hopeful that you will be able to move forward with professionalism. There’s a second where you consider the possibility of becoming friends with Aaron Hotchner, but you know that’s impossible. You can’t look at him and ignore all the hurt he caused you. You can, however, be professional. You know you can work with him. It might just tear you up inside, but you can do it. You have to.

However, you wonder what kind of person he’s become in the past eight years. You know you’ve changed dramatically, but what has happened to him? How has his life gone? How did he end up in the FBI?

You wonder if he’s learned to love. The man that you knew was one who was seemingly incapable of ever loving anyone. It’s clear to you that back then he was too selfish, too wrapped up in his own head to dedicate anything real to anyone else. And if he ever did feel anything real for you, he was too emotionally damaged to handle it, work through it, or to tell you about it.

Your alarm rings again. You snooze it again. What will you say to him? What do you want your first words to be to him? Will you tell him off? Should you even acknowledge the past? Or should you just put on your best air of professionalism and approach this as you would any new job? It seems impossible to push aside the past and treat him as a new person. Because he’s not a new person. He’s a man who has shaped every decision you’ve made in your life since knowing him.

You eventually convince yourself to get out of bed, reminding yourself that it’s pointless to fight inevitables. You dig through the moving boxes, pulling out your coffee maker and a thermos, filling it up to the top, already expecting the Quantico office coffee to be bad. You haven’t worked in a year, but you do remember always having to make your own coffee before work.

While the coffee brews, you pack a go-bag, an item that Strauss heavily emphasized the importance of for this job. You would be traveling a lot for each case, and you have to be ready to leave at any moment. You’re not sure why your reassignment is with the BAU. Your therapist emphasized a lifestyle of structure and predictability. If there’s one thing you’ve heard about the life of these profilers, it’s that the hours are irregular.

You get dressed, slipping on a clean pressed, black pair of slacks and a white button-down blouse. You slide on a comfortable pair of boots, ones that look nice and professional but don’t hinder your movement in the event that you get called away on a case.

One benefit of the irregular hours is that your personal time is limited. If you can occupy your mind with work, you can avoid getting sucked up into your own head. Like right now. You grip your bag as it jostles against your side on the bus. You drink your coffee a little too fast, which doesn’t ease the unnatural level of fear coursing through you.

This shouldn’t scare you so much. But the old wounds that you fought so hard to turn to scar tissue are reopening and they hurt just as much as the day Hotch inflicted them upon you.

You get to the Quantico headquarters a few minutes early, giving you enough time to get your new ID from the front desk. You get into the elevator, rocking back and forth on your toes anxiously. He’s here. He could be anywhere. Every time the elevator doors open to a different floor, you fear that you’ll come face to face with him. You’re sure that he’s probably on the sixth floor. The BAU floor. He’s probably in his office waiting to welcome the new agent. Does he know that you’re the new agent? Does he know who you are? Does he know what’s happened to you this past year?

You were assured that most of the details of your ‘leave’ were kept confidential. All that was publicized was a tragic bombing. The bomber sacrificed himself for the cause. Only a few people were able to escape, but all with severe injuries. The FBI didn’t want to admit their involvement. Their failure to save those people. Your failure to save those people.

You get to Strauss’s office, struggling to pay attention as she walks you through the basics, hands you your new badge, and a new gun. You holster the weapon, pulling your go-bag onto your shoulder, fiddling with the straps nervously.

Strauss finishes her introductory speech and takes a moment to look you over, “Agent, are you sure you’re ready to get back to work?” It doesn’t take a profiler to notice your nerves. Ever since the start of your leave, nerves and anxiety aren’t an uncommon occurrence, but this is more than usual. Your body is practically vibrating.

Despite the sick feeling in your stomach, you manage a nod, “I’m sorry.” You apologize for appearing distracted, “Yes ma’am. I’m ready.”

You can tell she’s unconvinced. Strauss leads you through the relatively crowded bullpen. You spot an empty desk across from a woman with long black hair, who is too busy laughing with the blonde sitting on top of her desk to notice that the tall skinny one across from them has just spilled coffee all over himself and his paperwork. You assume that the empty one is to be your desk. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you glance up at the two offices on the catwalk. One of them has the blinds tightly drawn and through the other, you can just barely see an older gentleman working on his laptop. David Rossi. You know him. You read just about every single one of his books on Sunday in preparation for this new job.

Your profiling skills are mediocre at best. Strauss argues that out of all possible candidates you had the most office experience and field experience. You’re really not sure how that helps. How could a traumatized and failed crisis negotiator who hasn’t been in the field in nearly a year provide anything helpful for the BAU?

Old habits resurfaced and you buried yourself in published literature and textbooks and research. You weren’t about to walk into a new job feeling unprepared, especially not one in which Aaron Hotchner would be your new boss. Now, at this moment, trailing behind Straus, as your body seems detached from your mind, dreading the moment that she opens that door to Aaron’s office, no amount of studying or preparation seems sufficient.

Rossi steps out of his office just as you and Strauss reach the top of the stairs. You lock eyes with him and despite not even knowing who you are, he gives you a reassuring nod. Damn profilers. Your body language is probably a dead giveaway. Strauss knocks on the door.

“Come in.” That voice. You could never forget it. Strauss reaches for the handle and you’re tempted to run away. Turn around and walk away. At least then you could leave with your sanity semi-intact. However, your curiosity has been piqued at this point. You have to know. You have to see him. You step through the doorway into the office and finally get a good look at the man.

He's hunched over, body turned slightly away from the desk. He has a phone pressed to his ear and he’s speaking in a gentle, hushed tone, "Yeah I know buddy." He glances over at you and Strauss. As if out of a movie, he does a double-take. It’s almost as if it takes a second for his eyes to really process what he’s really seeing. And what he’s really seeing is you. The look on his face tells you that he barely recognizes you, now eight years older, in professional clothes, and a face that’s just a little more weathered from all that you’ve been through.

Your memories of him are not faint as your eyes stay locked with his. They’re not just faded remnants of your moments together. Staring at him, eyes drinking in every inch of him, it all comes back more vivid than ever. You can practically feel his fluffy hair tangled in your fingers. From your position, you can just faintly smell his cologne. That’s a scent that hasn’t changed. The sensory memories are overwhelming. The passion, the secrecy, the pleasure. But that quickly changes, making the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach grow at an all-consuming rate. That night. That night he grabbed you by the front of your shirt, the way he snapped at you, the completely ice-cold manner in which you spoke those last few words to him, I’m done.

That Aaron Hotchner is not the man sitting in front of you. You barely recognize him. His hair is shorter, more strictly gelled in place. His white shirt is buttoned all the way up. He has a suit jacket on. His tie is done up perfectly. You can’t help but take note of the bags under his eyes, the increase of lines on his face. Obviously, he’s aged, but the way his face has changed, it’s not just age. You can see his eyes are dull, glossed over. For as neatly put together he is from the neck down, his face looks tired.

Hotch seems to forget he was just on the phone, entirely taken aback by the fact that you’re actually there, standing in front of him. "I’m sorry I can’t be with you right now but get a lot of rest and I’ll be home before you know it. I have to go. I love you too." He hangs up and you try to hide the shock on your face as those words come out of his mouth. Words you dreamt of him saying. Words that haunted you for months nearly a decade ago.

"Agent Hotchner, this is the crisis negotiation transfer I was discussing with you," Strauss nods at you, and Hotch stands up, smoothing out his tie, placing his hands flat on the desk. "This is Agent—"

"Y/N." His voice is firm. Hearing his name fall from your lips is enough to send you running in the opposite direction. Fear and anxiety overcome you, your legs going weak as he sticks out a hand to shake yours, but you can’t seem to get yourself to move forward to touch his hand, "I’m sorry, Agent Y/L/N." He corrects his mistake.

His hand hovers in the air for a moment, waiting for you to reach forward to shake it. Your shoes drag across the carpet, as you reach forward to shake his hand. His warm, rough hand envelops yours. At one point in your life, just the touch of his skin against yours would send sparks up and down your arm. Just that handshake would’ve been enough to ignite your skin and make you feel alive.

You feel nothing. Just a simple handshake. Your heart is attempting to jump out of your throat, beating rapidly and pounding against your ribcage so hard you think your chest visibly moves. However, his touch no longer thrills you. Maybe you are finally over Aaron Hotchner.

"You two know each other?” Strauss gestures between the two of you.

"No," You reply without missing a beat. You shake your head, finally able to get words out. You have to force your eyes off of Hotch and look at Strauss, "Well, yes. Agent Hotchner lectured at my law school a few times. When he was a federal prosecutor.”

Strauss gives a small nod of acknowledgment, “Agent Hotchner can show you the ropes from here. I expect updates from the field,” Her eyes shoot over to you. Updates about you, she means. In case you manage to fuck up again.

You watch as Strauss leaves the office not turning your eyes to Hotch at the desk in front of you. You look out the window, gesturing to the agents in the bullpen you passed, “I’m assuming the extra desk in the bullpen is mine?”

Hotch tilts his head down, letting out a small breath, “Yes. Agent Y/L/N—”

“And everyone in the bullpen, is that the whole team? I know Agent Rossi’s office is next to yours and I only saw three agents in the bullpen but I assume there are more?”

“Yes. We have a technical analyst and another member of the team. You’ll be introduced to them shortly, however–” that’s not what he really wants to talk to you about. Its clear that there’s so much he wants to say, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. You keep your mind focused on the important questions on there about the job. You know that a conversation with him about anything else just might break you.

“And in terms of training, you can see I passed my gun qualifications again. Are there any other evaluations or training protocols? Or will my time from the academy be sufficient preparation for this position?” You rattle off your questions. His face is a mixture of shock and frustration. He has his arms crossed against his chest. He tucks his bottom lip in, biting at it lightly.

“Y/N,” He places his hands firmly down on the desk. This time he doesn’t answer your questions. He’s tired of your avoidance, “What are you doing here?”

You take a pause at the sound of your first name, swallowing slowly, “I’m here on reassignment from crisis negotiation. I’m supposed to be working as a profiler on your team in the BAU.”

“You know what I mean,” Hotch presses the issue a little further.

“With all due respect, I’m not sure what you are searching for from me but if the implication is that I am here for anything other than the job then you are sorely mistaken,” You huff out and cross your arms against your chest, mirroring his closed-off body language. “Sir.”

“That’s not what I was implying,” Hotch places a hand on his forehead, rubbing roughly, trying to ease his frustration. You’re not quite sure where he gets off being so short and snippy with you. “I’m just… The last time I saw you, you were on track to be a lawyer and now you’re standing in front of me, in my office, joining my team. It just all seems very—”

“Sir?” You turn and see a different blonde standing in the doorway. She has a bright pink floral dress on, two large flowers in her hair, a file in her hands, and a pink fuzzy pen tucked behind her ear. “Sorry to interrupt,” She steps forward, stumbling a little in her high heels, sticking her hand out to shake yours, “Penelope Garcia, technical analyst, computer geek, and all-around wizard of the keyboard.”

You smile at her and stick your hand out to introduce yourself, “It’s great to meet you.”

“Sir, you remember that the Indiana PD contacted us about a possible serial?” She lets out a shaky breath, squinting her eyes and looking away as she opens the file, holding it out to Hotch, “Another body.”

Hotch has to reach past you to take the file and you audibly suck in your breath as his arm glides past your torso. “Same signature?” He looks over the photos.

Garcia lets out a small shudder, “Yeah the victim’s hands… the unsub he… don’t make me say it, sir.” She squeaks out.

“Gather the team,” He gives a nod before finally looking back at you, “You think you’re ready to get back to work?”

“Yes Sir,” You sigh, pull your go-bag further up your shoulder. You start to follow him out the door but he stops short in front of you.

“We’ll talk later,” He stumbles over his words a little. You’re making him nervous. You see his hand at his side. His fingers rubbing against one another. There’s one thing that hasn’t changed in years. He still has the same nervous behaviors.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about,” You mumble under your breath as you follow him to the conference room. You speak quietly but from the way he tilts his head, stretches his neck, and takes a deep breath, you know your comment was loud enough for him to hear.

You take a seat at the roundtable, watching as the three agents from earlier are now joined by a tall, muscular black man who ruffles the top of the skinny kid’s head, messing up his hair, “I’m just teasing kid, I like the haircut. Makes you look young.”

“Yeah like I need anything to make me look younger. Everyone already thinks I’m a teenager,” The skinny one tries to smooth his hair back into place, but it doesn’t really help, leaving small strands sticking up in the air.

“Everyone this is Agent Y/L/N, she’s joining us from Crisis Negotiation,” Hotch pulls out his chair, right next to yours. You feel your whole body tense up, as the close proximity really allows you to smell his familiar cologne. Eight years and he still hasn’t bought a new one. Great.

“Joining us?” The muscular one stands just a bit behind you, making himself a cup of coffee but turns and walks to take a seat, giving you a slow once over. It’s not a flirtatious one, but a wary scan of your body. You’re becoming acutely aware of how exposed you feel in a room full of professional profilers.

“Strauss thinks we need the extra help, especially with the recent increase in requests for BAU help, and I don’t disagree with her,” Hotch looks around the table at his coworkers before looking to you, “Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, Rossi, and Dr. Reid.” Hotch points out each member, who all give you small nods and waves of acknowledgment as he introduces them.

“Crisis negotiation, huh?” Morgan continues to push the subject. You can tell he’s not really happy about a new addition to the team. You’re guessing it’s coming from a place of protectiveness of his team. You understand his hesitance. The team probably works well together, a new person is a whole new dynamic. If you could pick any other position you would, you have no specific interest in the BAU, but it’s a second chance and you’re not going to screw it up, no matter how much you wish that anyone else in the world besides Hotch was unit chief.

“I think the job took a small amount of profiling,” You shrug and give Agent Morgan a smile, hoping to get in his good graces soon, “Obviously not as much as this but it did take a level of interpretation of the behavior of criminals who take hostages in addition to a complex understanding of intergroup dynamics and how that might impact a situation.”

“There’ll be time to play nice and get to know each other later,” Hotch cuts the introductions short. “Garcia, the case?”

“Right,” She clicks on the monitor at the front while Hotch slides a tablet over to you. You take it from him, your fingertips just brushing against his. Everything about the interaction feels like eight years ago. He manages to keep his best poker face, all the while you feel the small sparks shoot across your skin. Those damn sparks. Except you’re very quickly realizing that the Hotch in front of you is nothing like eight years ago.

There’s something deeply broken about his eyes. You could never forget those eyes. When you first met him you thought they were deep brown. Then you spent enough time watching him, studying every detail of his face and learned that they were a beautiful light brown. Small golden flecks in his eyes become more pronounced in the sun. His eyes are different now. First of all, the deep undereye bags that frame them make him look years older than his actual age. His brow seems permanently set in that furrowed position. It’s a familiar expression of his. You had the joy of seeing that brow lift when the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. Smiling seems to be the last thing this current Aaron Hotchner wants to do.

You realize you’re staring a little bit too long and tune back into Garcia’s case briefing, “All three victims were undergraduate students. Indiana’s campus hosts both undergrad and grad students from the law school and med school.”

“Which means a huge suspect pool.” Hotch points out.

“How are we sure that the unsub is from inside the community?” You look around the table. You can see the way that Morgan’s brows raise at the question. How else are you going to learn without asking questions?

Rossi, however, swoops in to save you from embarrassment, “The first victim had mace in her backpack, however, she never used it. The second victim had no defensive wounds on her body. The third victim—”

“Was killed in an office meeting room. To gain access to that building you need a school ID,” You nod, filling in the gaps. “I forget that technology and security have dramatically improved since I was in school.”

“Come on, kid, at least you had cell phones in college,” Rossi gives a small smile, nudging your arm.

“And how do we know these are all connected?” Morgan gestures to his tablet in front of him.

You scoff slightly and look up at Morgan, “I’m sorry, I know it’s important to find common victimology, MO, or signature before connecting the crimes but how many violent crimes occur on college campuses in this short of a time? They have to be connected.”

“Statistically, some of the most dangerous and violent college campuses report that nearly 10 students for every 1000 will be a victim of violent crime. However, that statistic seems to include any form of violent crime meaning murder, negligent manslaughter, aggravated assault, robbery, but most prevalent on most college campuses is rape as a form of violent crime. In terms of how frequent—” The tall skinny one, Reid, rattles off a series of facts at you and you can’t help but smile. He’s cute. He looks about your age, “That was more of a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?”

You fight a smile at Reid’s confused face and nod. “All the victims had the same cuts on their hands,” Prentiss points up at the monitor.

“Weird,” You mumble under your breath.

“What?” JJ turns to you.

“Oh. Nothing it’s just… hands are a weird thing to mutilate. Damage to the face shows high levels of rage and a deep hatred for the victim, removal of eyes or ears or damage to the mouth could symbolize the removal of a sense in order to punish the victims for some misuse of those senses. But hands… hands are different.” You tip your pen back to your mouth, placing the end on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly as you think. You can feel Hotch’s focus on you. If you turn, you’re sure you’ll just catch him as he looks away.

He’s profiling you. You don’t need to look at him to know that. He was always good at reading you, not that you did much to hide your feelings back then. You felt everything so openly. You were so full of passion, so determined to be the best at everything you set your mind to. Hotch made you realize that feeling everything so deeply, so freely, opens you up to a world of hurt. You put on your best poker face, keeping your body language neutral while you still feel his eyes on you.

“Hands are not inherently symbolic of one thing.” Reid agrees with you.

“So we have to try and decipher why this mutilation is a compulsion for the unsub,” Hotch nods, “Wheels up in 30.” Everyone tucks all their belongings away. Hotch is quick to stand up from his seat at the table, storm down the catwalk back to his office, closing the door loudly. You try to ignore the weird looks from the team as you introduce yourself to all of them.

You watch as Morgan is one of the first to leave the conference room, walking after him, “Hey, Agent Morgan!” You run to catch him at the top of the stairs, “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off so rude in there.” You shake your head.

“No problem,” He states simply, intending to walk down the stairs.

“I get it, I’m new, I’m throwing off the team dynamic and you don’t seem like the type to trust me immediately.” You stick out a hand to shake his, “But I’m committed to this team and I want to earn your respect in time.”

He nods, giving you one of those judgmental once overs again, “From what I can tell, Hotch doesn’t seem too pleased about you being here. Now just because he’s my boss, doesn’t mean I have to always agree with him, but if he’s wary, then I’m wary.” He avoids shaking your hand. Your suspicions about Morgan seem to be proven before your eyes. He doesn’t trust easily. He’s been burned by someone he trusted in the past. You can relate to that. You’re not a very open or trustworthy person anymore either.

“Agent Hotchner and I knew each other a really long time ago. A lifetime ago. Way before his time at the BAU. I’m sure he’s just not thrilled about his past colliding with his present,” You nod taking a few steps back to let Morgan continue down the stairs, “I just hope… I hope you can learn to trust me, and I, you.” You smile softly. Morgan seems stuck in his place. You can’t tell whether or not he’s surprised by your manners, or if you’ve just driven further the wedge between you two.

“See you on the jet,” He speaks up as he walks down the stairs, scooping his go-bag from under his desk and disappearing around a corner down the hallway.

When you turn to walk back to the conference room, you catch Agent Hotchner’s eyeline through the blinds of his office. He’s watching you, studying you, trying to read you. However, he definitely does not get access to you anymore.

You’re determined to keep your animosity towards Hotch private. No reason for the team to detect that anything is wrong. But throughout the case, there are moments it slips. First, it was on the jet...

You step onto the jet, looking around, taking the entire environment in. You were never blessed with a private jet in your time in crisis negotiation, just stuck with driving from place to place. Morgan reaches across you, taking your bag and stowing it away in the back for you. It’s a simple gesture, but from the look in his eye as he does it, you can tell Morgan is already reevaluating his judgment of you.

You’re one of the last on the jet and you see everyone settled around the table and surrounding seats. The only available seat is the one next to Hotch by the window. You’d have to ask him to get up… or squeeze past him. You try to cover it up but nearly everyone notices the way that you eye the seat before deciding against it. You end up leaning against the arm of the sofa that JJ is sitting on. Once again, Hotch’s gaze lingers on you as you do. He’s taking note of the way you’re actively avoiding him, and he’s right. You’re actively avoiding any alone time with him. Minimize the alone time, minimize the pain.

You run through the facts of the case again, Reid rambling on about the significance of hands throughout different cultures, the importance of sensory neurons on the skin of your hands, and how hand size is an indicator for a lot of things. You share a small smirk with Morgan, who is clearly warming up to you because you both know the one thing that hand size is rumored to correlate with.

Morgan shoots you a small smirk before saying what you were both thinking, “That’s interesting and all kid, but any knowledge in that big brain of yours about whether hand size is related to—”

Hotch cuts off Morgan, “Focus, please.” He gestures with his hand to stop the conversation and you have to hide your smile. It’s nice to smile. You weren’t expecting to feel anything but pain today. Hotch puts a fast end to that feeling of happiness.

“When we land, JJ and Rossi head to the local police and talk to the families of the victims. Prentiss and Morgan, you’ll head to the ME, get a better evaluation of the state of the body,” Hotch pauses for a second. He takes in a slow breath as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say. Once he says what’s coming next, it’s all official. You start your first case. He’s your boss, you’re his subordinate. You’re in each other's lives again whether you like it or not. “Y/L/N, Reid, and I will go to the most recent crime scene,” Hotch nods and you feel the blood drain from your face, that sick and twisty knot growing in the pit of your stomach. You knew you’d have to work with him, that’s part of the job, but he’s already keeping you close to him. Maybe he doesn’t trust you.

From the way he spoke to you in his office, it’s clear he thinks you’re here as some sort of revenge. Some convoluted vindictive scheme to ruin his life.

“You look terrified,” Prentiss tries to tease you.

You look around at the team and shake your head, “College campuses,” You scrunch up your face in disgust and shake your head, “Undergrad sucked because I was younger than everyone, so I missed out on all the fun.”

“Damn, we got another kid genius on our hands, don’t we?” Morgan reaches out a hand to high-five you. “Like our own female Einstein.” Your eyes immediately flick to Hotch. That nickname. No one’s called you any form of that nickname since him. “Watch out Reid, you’ve got competition.”

“I was 14 when I was in college,” Reid states in an attempt to one-up you, but it’s clear that he’s just joking. He knows he’s smart but he doesn’t seem like the cocky type, at least what you can tell so far.

“Don’t worry, brainiac,” You laugh at him, “You are the only genius on this team.”

“And grad school?” JJ pipes up, catching onto the way you dropped the sentence.

“I dropped out of law school after my first year,” You clear your throat uncomfortably, “Wasn’t for me I guess.” The air seems suffocating. Your face is burning hot. You feign extreme interest in the crime scene photos on your tablet, knowing that if you look up, your face will give you away to Hotch. The last thing you want is for him to know how much he affected you.

He said it himself: So in 10 years from now, when you're at the top of your career, know that it's all because of me. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Everything that has happened for the past eight years happened because of his impact on your life.

You remind yourself yet again to try and keep the conversations focused on the case. The team wants to get to know you, but every personal conversation seems to lead back to Hotch.

The second slip-up comes when you arrive at the crime scene...

“She told her roommate she was coming here to study, that she had booked the meeting room just for herself.” Reid lifts up the crime scene tape, holding it up for you to slip under. You give a small smile at the gesture.

“But she told her friends she was meeting with her professor here for extra help.” Hotch shakes his head, pulling on a pair of gloves. You glance over at Reid as he does the same.

He looks at you for a second before he raises his brows in realization, letting out a small ‘oh.’ He digs into his pocket and hands you a pair of gloves. “I usually grab them from the crime scene team,” He nods.

You take them from him, “Thank you.” You like Reid. He’s kind and smart and polite. He’s your age, but you can see that he’s worlds ahead of you in terms of knowledge. You wonder just how much is going on inside that brain of his. When you look at him you can see the gears constantly turning, he’s always working over something in his brain, forming theories, or running through facts.

“She was stabbed in the back and the back of the head, correct?” You glance over at Hotch for confirmation.

“Yes.” He plays with the fingertips of his gloves, paying more attention to you rather than the scene. Without the body, there’s not much to go on, it’s your average office space. You see a log on the wall with the names of who has scheduled the room. They haven’t wiped away the victim’s work from the whiteboard. It looks like some form of math.

“Linear algebra,” Reid speaks up as he sorts through some of the papers left on the table in the center of the room.

You nod and smile, “Math never was my strong suit in school. I was definitely more entranced by a book rather than formulas and numbers.”

Reid’s face lights up with joy, “If you ever want any book recommendations, please do ask. I just finished an absolutely amazing biography about Albert Einstein. It’s not that long of a read. It’s only about 1200 pages. You know I’m sure that I have a copy…” He catches sight of Hotch’s stern expression, stopping himself mid-sentence.

You both go silent as you skim through the pages of work scattered on the floor. You then analyze the writing on the whiteboard, leaning in close. Hotch speaks up again tilting his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in confusion at your behavior, “What are you thinking?”

“It wasn’t random. This was planned out. The unsub specifically sought out her.”

“How do you figure that?” Hotch questions you, but not in the hostile accusatory way you’re expecting.

You hesitate, losing your train of thought the longer you look at Hotch, so you look back to the whiteboard, “When you’re waiting to meet someone, you expect someone to come in, right? So if she had her back turned, writing up equations on this whiteboard, she wouldn’t think twice of the door opening. If you’re not expecting someone and you hear the door open.” You point at the whiteboard.

“You would turn around to see who it is,” Hotch finishes your sentence.

“That’s why all her wounds were to the back,” You fall into a rhythm with Hotch. He’s following your train of thought.

“So the unsub had to know she would be here ahead of time,” Hotch sighs and digs in his pocket for his phone, “Garcia, I need your help.” He clicks his phone onto the speaker and places it down on the table.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Her chipper voice comes through the phone. You can picture her office probably matches her appearance. Probably bright, full of color. For a technical analyst, she probably still has a hefty collection of colorful and funky pens. You remember the octopus mug she was holding when she walked into Hotch’s office this morning.

“This building has a key card access system. Can you access the log of everyone who swiped into this building on the day and around the time of the third murder?”

“Sir, it’s not a matter of can or can’t. You know I can,” Her voice is laced with a smile.

“Check that list for the professor that she claimed she was meeting with,” Hotch adds.

“He…” She trails and you hear the ambient sounds of her rapid typing and clicking. There’s a pause. Her voice grows small, “He accessed the building around the time of her death.”

“He’s our prime suspect. We need to bring him in,” Hotch concludes, “Garcia, you’re the best.”

“Aw I know,” She giggles softly, “PG out!”

“Imagine that,” You chuckle bitterly, “She comes in here to meet her professor, someone she trusts, and she gets stabbed in the back.” You shake your head, the words slipping out before you even realize the weight of what you’ve implied.

Reid doesn’t catch on to the look that you and Hotch exchange. Hotch looks as if he’s seen a ghost. He’s not shocked by what you’ve said, but by the fact that you even said anything. It’s the first sign of hostility towards him. The first crumb or clue into how you feel about him after all these years. The answer is betrayed. You still feel betrayed.

“We should deliver the profile.” Hotch leaves the crime scene at a brisk pace, leaving Reid clueless, and you and that damned twisting knot of anxiety in your stomach.

The rest of your interactions with Hotch are limited for most of the case, restricted to only group discussions that are entirely professional. No more slip-ups, no more sideways glances. What all your interactions were rife in, was that intrusive look of his eyes. Every few minutes you can feel his eyes on you, scanning your posture, your facial expressions, searching for any idea of what you might be thinking or feeling.

You try your best to avoid it, opting to go check out every lead, just for the opportunity to get some space from him. You feel smothered and suffocated. You’re so on edge, you’ve torn your nail beds to shreds. He is seemingly unfazed by your presence. That is if you don’t consider how often you catch him rubbing his fingers at his side or up by his face or biting his bottom lip. Every time you catch him, however, he stops.

You’re having a difficult time reading how he feels about you being here. You just want to know how he feels about you after all these years. Does he still harbor feelings for you? Does he still care about you? The sleep deprivation from working so hard and the excess caffeine you’ve consumed don’t help to slow down your thoughts which seem to be moving at a million miles a minute. At least while you’re working you can put all your energy into solving the case, helping the team, and parsing through evidence.

It gets worse at night when you’re alone in the hotel room. You try to bring the case file back into the room, working on it in bed until you can barely keep your eyes open, but you find that you don’t get any work done, your brain a continuous stream of questions.

You’ve been able to profile every member of the team pretty efficiently. You have a good understanding of how Reid’s brain works. The comfort that he has with numbers and facts. He uses his intelligence to cover up for his social insecurities. Morgan puts on a tough exterior, but really he’s hesitant to let people in and trust them. Prentiss, similar to Morgan, seems to keep everyone at arm's length, preferring to be the confidant rather than the one doing the confiding in someone else. JJ struggles to separate her emotions from the work, a quality that is not in and of itself a flaw, but you can tell it weighs on her heavily. Rossi has the most experience and constantly feels inclined to be a figure, a leader while trying to balance cooperation rather than individualism. He’s used to being a lone wolf, doing the job on his own.

This new Aaron Hotchner is a mystery. He’s closed off. He is entirely business. Even when Garcia cracks a joke or embarrasses herself. You all laugh and smirk at her, but his face never changes. When you all get off track, he sternly reminds you of the importance of the case at hand. That’s his job, but there’s something more to it that you can’t quite figure out. There’s a sense of urgency, as there usually is with these cases, but almost this feeling that he’s constantly running out of time.

Even his office provided you with very little to profile. You remember a few photos from Hotch’s office. One of him and a small boy. A son, possibly? There was another of him and a blonde woman hugging the little boy. Your first guess is wife, but you don’t remember him wearing a ring.

You can’t profile him. He’s closed himself off to that. Yet you find yourself coming back to the same question over and over again, does he still care about you? You get a glimpse at the answer as you and the team track down the location of your unsub, three days into the case.

You lean forward from the backseat of the SUV, looking between Morgan and Hotch in the front, “What does the profile say about this kind of unsub’s behavior once faced with police and authority like us?”

The two men exchange knowing looks. You have your suspicions but you really just want them to vocalize what you’re thinking, “He won’t let us take him in without a fight.”

“Suicide by cop,” You mutter frustratedly, “Great.”

“It’s likely, but that doesn’t mean we don’t try to talk him out of it.” Hotch clarifies, gesturing with an outstretched palm that he takes off the wheel temporarily. He pulls up to the small house, sirens off. “A big show will just scare him into making sudden moves to get us to shoot to kill. Morgan, you head around the back. Y/L/N and I will take the front.”

You nod, knowing the rest of the team isn’t far behind you all, but they’ve all been instructed to try and appear as discreetly as possible. You get out of the SUV, watching as Morgan runs around back. Both you and Hotch approach the door. Hotch kicks the door down. The unsub sits casually in an armchair, holding a gun that he twirls in his fingers. He knew you were coming.

Then Hotch does something that complicates your questions about him. It’s subtle but you notice it immediately. He instinctively moves a little in front of you. He doesn’t block your line of fire, but he blocks the unsubs. He’s shielding you with his body.

Your profile is right, the unsub doesn’t want to be taken in peacefully, resulting in Morgan putting two bullets in him from behind when he raises his gun to you and Hotch. AT first, you think Hotch put his body in front of yours by accident.

It wasn’t an accident. He gave a small look over his shoulder at your location before taking a few steps right, to block you. Then you assume it was purely because of his status as team leader. He doesn’t want the members of his team to get hurt. That also doesn’t seem to make sense to you. No matter how much he wants the team to be protected he wouldn’t do that. He would trust Morgan to get the shot if you two couldn’t.

So why would he shield you?

Almost everyone but you, Rossi, and Hotch are sleeping on the jet home. You have a book out in front of you, but you’re barely reading, just attempting to look deeply enchanted by the novel to avoid any awkward eye contact or conversation with Hotch. The only sounds in the plane are the whirring of the engines, the wind outside, and Hotch’s typing on his computer as he finishes up the report for the case.

Rossi sits down across from you on the jet, placing down a small glass of some amber liquid, which you assume is whiskey, in front of you.

“Trying to get me drunk, Agent Rossi?” You tease him, tearing your eyes away from the book you weren’t reading.

He laughs heartily, taking a sip from his own glass, “I thought I’d welcome you with something from my own personal stash.”

“Where do you keep it hidden in here? You know… just in case I’m curious,” You smirk and reach for the glass. It’s nice of Rossi to sit with you and talk to you.

Rossi just smiles, shaking his head a little, “You did well out there, kid,” He puts the glass down, to roll his ring around his finger. You’ve noticed he does it a lot when he’s thinking. “You can read all the books in the world, but profiling in the field, thinking on your feet, analyzing a crime scene, it’s all much different than the words on a page.”

“I’m realizing that,” You trail your finger around the rim of the glass, “My previous position incorporated a lot of what you guys do here.”

“I’m sure that makes this job a lot harder. You probably want to put the past behind you.” Your head snaps up to look at him. No one told the team where you came from. Even Hotch doesn’t know. “I remember hearing about the incident.”

“The FBI tried to bury their involvement,” You sigh and finish off the glass, noting how smooth the alcohol goes down. You’ve learned how to handle alcohol really well this past year. “They keep all the details top secret. However, that didn’t stop them from throwing me under the bus.”

“What happened in New York was not your fault.” Rossi’s voice drops in volume as he leans closer, keeping your conversation more private, “The brass has a habit of blaming agents instead of criminals. You couldn’t have stopped it. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

You exhale loudly, air rushing over your teeth as you give a little shake of your head in disagreement, “Agent Rossi, I’m sure you’re experienced enough to know this, but as reassuring and comforting it is to hear you say those words it doesn’t necessarily—”

“It doesn’t change how you feel. I know. I understand,” He pauses, “Don’t let it consume you. All of us have been where you are right now. Some of us are currently where you are right now, constantly consumed by guilt over something that wasn’t even our fault.” You get the sense that he isn’t talking about himself. You don't need to reply. The both of you sit in silence for a while.

You start up a conversation again, this time about Virginia and DC, where you’re living, when you moved, what you studied in school, where you grew up. Rossi loves to tease you and every few sentences he’ll simply reply, ‘I already knew that’ acting as if he could profile every fact about you.

You like him a lot. You like everyone a lot. Just as the jet lands and you’re all packing up your desks back at Quantico, Rossi offers to drive you home.

“Let me just check in with Agent Hotchner before I leave,” You glance up at the office. You know you have to check in with him, it’s your first case finished, you’re new, he’s your new boss, but so far, you’ve managed to avoid being alone with him and you’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.

You knock lightly on the open door, to which Hotch responds, “Come in.”

“I just wanted to check-in, you know, with it being my first case and everything,” You nod, taking just a few steps into the office, leaving as much distance between you and Hotch. He stands at his desk, focusing intently on your face. You know he’s trying to read your intentions. He’s searching for the hidden meaning behind your words. And for once, in the past few days, you don’t have any meaning behind your words. You have had enough small slip-ups and double meanings. This time, you truly just mean to check-in.

“You did really good work out there, Agent. You’re a fast learner, you pay attention to details, you work well with the team,” He rattles off a series of compliments, “Strauss is going to request a formal evaluation with me and I’ll be sure to report how quickly you’ve adapted.”

“Thank you, sir,” You try your best to function with the utmost composure.

“Hotch,” He corrects you.

You ignore the correction, “Is that all, sir?”

“If you need anything… I mean I’ve read through your psych evaluations and I know the details are classified but–“ Hotch is struggling with his words. You know what he’s trying to say. He wants to tell you he’s here for you. Funny. Really, it is. Funny that he doesn’t realize the one thing that might send you spiraling is being around him. “I just mean if it all gets to be too much, it’s okay to take a step back. I… I understand.”

“You do?” Your words come out more bitter than intended. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. You had gone this whole case without snapping. It’s childish and immature. You can be professional. But right now, you can only see one thing: boiling hot rage at Hotch. How could he possibly understand how you feel? You pause to take a breath, “Thank you, but I’m okay. Goodnight, sir.” You walk to the door, wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

“Y/N—” Hotch calls out, his voice softer, less firm, less professional. “Please,” You beg, finally breaking. Your voice is raw with emotion. You’ve been holding all the pain in for the past three days and your plea comes out sounding more broken than you intend to. You don’t turn around but place a hand on the doorframe. “Please… don’t make this harder than it already is.” You wait for a moment, hoping, praying, that he doesn’t try to talk to you anymore. A moment of silence serves as confirmation that he isn’t going to keep pushing you to talk.

You get down the stairs, meeting Rossi at the elevators. “Thank you… for driving me home.” You try and hide your face from him, hoping he doesn't see the sheen in your eyes as you fight away the tears that have been fighting their way out for the past three days.

“Anytime,” He nods, holding an arm over the elevator doors for you as they open. You think he can sense something is wrong. He’s probably been able to sense something is wrong between you and Hotch since the minute you made eye contact with him your first morning. If he does, however, he also knows not to ask or press the issue.

You flick the lights on in your apartment. You look over the boxes, still left unpacked. Not much of a home yet. You have no place of safety, of comfort yet. You feel like a guest in your own place. However, the thought of unpacking all the boxes right now is way too intimidating.

Deep steady breath in. Shaky breath out. You bite at your lip harshly. You haven’t cried over Aaron Hotchner in years. You drop your bag by the door, kicking your shoes off. You turn to close the door and everything starts to bubble up inside you. The anger, frustration, sadness, heartbreak. It’s all too much. You’ve been through so much these past eight years. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. But fuck. It hurts.

You let out a frustrated yell. It’s a scream that feels good to let out but ends up scratching your throat. You slam your fist against the door, ignoring the way it sears your knuckles. You pace your apartment, trying to steady your breathing.

You’ve been suffocating the past three days. Three long days of close quarters with Aaron Hotchner. Even after all these years, he manages to suck all the oxygen out of the room, leaving you breathless. In another life, you remember thinking how much you loved suffocating around him, but now, it tears you up inside. Your chest burns and aches, your head is fuzzy, and his presence is dizzying. It’s not exhilarating. It’s not exciting. It’s not all-consuming in the way you remember. You’re just trying to keep your head above water, but the current is strong and the rapids are relentless. You’re sinking under the surface quickly and you don’t know how to pull yourself up out of it.

You walk over to the stack of boxes, pushing them aside until you find the exact one you’re looking for. You rip open the top, tearing the tape off. The box is full of books, one of many that you brought with you. It’s organized perfectly so that when you unpack it you can set up your personal library just the way you had it back home in New York. So it doesn’t take you long to find that book. That damned book. The cover is faded. The dark brown leather is weathered and much lighter. The spine has lost all structure and the pages have changed color.

You sit down exactly where you stand, cross-legged on the floor, you open to that first page. You look at the all-too-familiar note. You were tempted, over the years, to burn the book, tear that first page out, cross out every one of his notes. But you never could do it. Deep down, no matter how bad he had hurt you, the book seemed to remain separate from that.

Maybe it’s because it’s a constant reminder that you weren’t some naive, foolish, young child. You hadn’t deluded yourself into thinking Hotch cared for you. He did. There was some sense of care and attention to detail. The book is evidence of that. However, it forces you to hold on to an image of Hotch that clearly is not the prevailing personality. Looking at the book reminds you of the bashful, almost embarrassed, man who handed it to you in his office so long ago. The careful way he traced your jawline, the way he tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing it out of the way to really get a good look at your face. That image of him sometimes wins out when you think of Aaron Hotchner. You want to remember him that way, but that only seems to prolong your pain. It makes you want him back.

You lay down on the floor pressing the book close to your heart. You could simply pick up the phone. You could just call him, tell him you want to start all over. But you can’t start all over. Being with Aaron Hotchner was a lifetime ago. That doesn’t change how vividly you can remember being with him. For the first few years, you hated him with every fiber of your being. You thought about what would happen if you ever saw him again. You would scream at him. Tell him off, curse him out. But as the years passed, you stopped hating him. There’s a fine line between love and hate. And as you know, Aaron Hotchner has always been good at keeping lines blurry.

Everything in you is screaming at you to pick up the phone. You’ve dreamed of hearing his voice tell you, “Let’s try again... please.” But you fight the urge. You close your eyes, the cold floor of your apartment sending a chill through you, enough to keep your wits about you.

——

Hotch runs a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes forcing himself to stay awake, forcing his attention back to the case report. His attempts to work fail, his mind always traveling back to you. He knew you would be a different person. It’s been eight years. He’s a different person. What he didn’t expect was how much of you is still the same.

That bright look in your eyes while discussing the case was one he had seen so many times while you poured over a novel in his office. You still talk with your hands, punctuating every sentence with a little shake or gesture of your fingers. You crack your knuckles when you’re thinking.

The differences are clear to him too. You don’t hold your tongue. You’re blunt. Brutally honest, almost to a fault. You seem to have pushed aside any attempt at politeness, or social niceties. You no longer feel so openly. He finds it much harder to read your face and body language. Your thoughts are not as clear to him as they used to be. He used to know exactly what you were thinking. He can tell you’ve practiced your poker face. He tried his best the past three days to get a read on how you feel about him. He doesn’t want to dwell on the past. All of that was before Haley. And indulging in thoughts of before is just simply too painful for him.

He walks to the window, looking out at the city. He wonders where you are tonight. Are you thinking about him? Are you hurting? Or has it been so long that he’s unimportant to you? Is someone holding you close to them, pressing soft kisses to your lips, whispering comforting words?

He could just pick up the phone and call you. He could profusely apologize. Not that his apology would mean anything, but it’s a speech he’s been rehearsing for years. He loved Haley with his whole heart. She was his whole world, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t regret how he treated you. Haley showed him a world of love, yet he managed to ruin that as well. He prioritized the job over her. Look where that got him.

Hotch knows you will never forgive him. He has never forgiven himself, but he can’t help but think about what would happen if he showed up on your doorstep. Would you immediately turn him away? Or would you let him in? Would you hear him out?

He shakes his head, tearing his eyes away from the lights of DC. He walks to the kitchen, pouring a fresh mug of coffee. He can’t call you. Too much has happened. He thinks about the sleeping little boy upstairs. Every night he’s tormented by memories. He can still remember what it felt like to hold Haley’s lifeless body in his arms. When he does get sleep, visions of Haley’s dead eyes, his bloodied clothes, Foyet’s knife, invade his dreams. He frequently wakes up coated in sweat, the scars on his chest and stomach stinging with the same intensity as the day Foyet inflicted the stab wounds.

Which is why he feels immense guilt over the fact that three days ago, he shook your hand to welcome you to the team, and it ignited every nerve in his body. Everything has changed, but your hand in his made him feel alive.

Chapter 13: II.II →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

[not-close-to-straight]

Jammie Horny (Stony)

I tried to just make this horny and not romantic, but Stony deserves romance and that’s just the truth. 

THERES MORE STONY ON MY MASTERLIST!

***********

It was cold today and cold days meant fires in the wood stove even though the compound had a state of the art heating system and warming floors and individual thermostats in every room.

No, cold days called for cozy blankets and slippered feet, team members huddled together in the recliners with hot chocolate, the wood stove roaring and maaaaaybe even s’mores because hey, a fire was a fire and roasted marshmallows were a necessity.

“Gimme.” A tiny foot lashed out from beneath the pile of blankets on the chair closest the fire and kicked at Clint’s elbow. “Gimme s’mores.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the record show the fierce Black Widow hates being cold.” Clint rubbed his elbow and scowled at the red hair and green eyes peeking out above the heavy quilts. “Make your own s’mores!” 

“I will cut you!” Natasha hissed, and as Sam walked by with another bag of marshmallows he flattened his palm to her head and squashed her down into the blankets, grinning over her offended shriek. 

“Easy does it, Ms. Romanoff. We’re all cold and we all want marshmallows. Wait your turn.” 

Some words that were both Russian and pissed off, and Sam turned wide eyes to Clint. “Alright, maybe we make Nat some s’mores. Damn.” 

“On it.” 

Clint went back to toasting marshmallows, Sam felt around beneath the blankets and dragged a shrieking Natasha out by her ankle to sit on his lap, and the resulting noise drew the rest of the team into the common area. 

First came Bucky, the super soldiers only mildly affected by the weather and sporting long sleeves in contrast to Pepper’s overly fluffy robe and slippers. He scooped the pretty redhead up into his arms and deposited her carefully on the nearest couch, tucked a blanket up over her thighs and got a kiss on the cheek for his efforts, which made the former Winter Soldier’s grin get far too fucking goofy. 

Thor was never cold, but he was wearing a long sleeve cable knit sweater because he knew he looked excellent in it. Bruce was also wearing a long sleeve cable knit sweater that was at least two sizes too big and turned his hands into sweater paws and Clint rolled his eyes a little when Thor picked up Bruce’s paw and pressed it over his own heart, rumbling something sweet and probably sappy to his love. Bruce smiled and turned a little pink and smoothed the fabric down over Thor’s unfairly perky pecs and even Natasha let out a begrudging awwww over the scene. 

Steve made it in after everybody else had already settled, pausing in the door way and straightening the line of his favorite dark blue sweater, surreptitiously glancing down at his new jeans to make sure they were appropriately flattering, and then looking real quick at all the seats to see if Tony was there yet.

"He’s not here!” Sam said loudly, and Steve jumped, turned bright red. “Tony’s not here yet! Stop standing in the doorway and strategically flashing your package and get your ass in here!” 

The team erupted into laughter and Steve fought against a scowl as he stomped in and threw himself into one of the free recliners, snapping open the newspaper and holding it high to hide his blush. 

“Aw, don’t look so sad, Cap.” Clint presented a perfectly toasted s’more to Natasha and then curled into Sam’s side to stay warm, resting his hand on Nat’s thigh and dropping a kiss on Sam’s cheek. “You know how Tony and Colonel Rhodes get when they go on vacation. We’ll be lucky if Tony comes back before New Years at this rate.” 

“Can confirm.” Pepper shifted closer to Bucky on the couch and hooked just their pinkies together. “One year they went to Vegas for Tony’s birthday and I didn’t see him again until the Fourth of July when he flew in from Paris. For the life of me I can’t figure out how a week’s vacation in Vegas turned into a trip overseas, but he spoke solid French for a month. This time they went to Hawaii, so I have no clue when--” 

“A yoo-hoo!” A voice from the entry way, the sound of running feet and less than a minute later Tony came skidding into the living room holding a giant thermos of hot chocolate, wearing a just beaming smile--

--and the single most ridiculous pajamas any of them had ever seen. 

“Uhhhh hey bud.” Bucky was the first to speak, because everyone else was just staring and Pepper had both hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t shriek with laughter. “What-- what’cha got there?” 

“Hot chocolate!” Tony held up the thermos and his smile stretched even wider. “It was cold today so I knew you guys would be down here! I’m ready for s’mores!” 

“Welcome home, Tony.” Natasha elbowed Sam when he snorted a laugh. “Cute jammies.” 

“I know!” Tony set his hot chocolate down and shoved his hands into the pockets. “They have pockets! I got them in the airport!” 

“Adorable!” Thor boomed, and Clint admitted, “Yeah, you look real fucking adorable, Tony. Black and red flannel onesie jammies definitely don’t make you look like a lumberjack groupie.” 

“Definitely not like a lumberjack groupie.” Sam was quick to agree and Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed, “Oh Tony, you sort of look like a lumberjack groupie.” 

“Jealous.” Tony snarked good naturedly, took a big slurp of his hot chocolate then turned a softer but no less enthusiastic smile towards Steve. “Uh hey. Hey Cap.” 

“Tony.” Steve hadn’t so much as reacted to Tony’s jammies as he had held the newspaper higher to hide his face and gripped it tight enough that the edges were starting to tear between his fingers. “Welcome home.” 

“...thanks.” Tony’s smile dimmed, and the group exchanged uncomfortable looks. “You look good. I like that sweater. Did you get new jeans?” 

“Yes.” Steve stood abruptly, tossed the newspaper away and strode from the room with fists clenched at his sides, jaw set and eyes blazing, practically stomping past Tony and slamming the door to the compound on his way out into the yard. 

“Fuckin’ yikes.” Bucky muttered, and Pepper immediately snapped her fingers, made room on the couch next to her and told Tony, “Come here and tell me about your vacation with Rhodey. How was Hawaii?” 

“No no.” Clint cut in. “No no, I want to know what just happened with Cap and Tony. I thought you were two were just a few steps from canoodling before your vacation. What happened? Why is he mad at you?” 

“I don’t know.” Tony slumped onto the couch next to Pepper and took another sip of his hot chocolate. “We texted almost every day I was out with Rhodey and he said he was looking forward to seeing me when I got home today. I don’t know what happened.” 

“He told me you two kissed right before he left.” Sam said over a mouthful of graham crackers. “True?” 

“Yeah.” Tony’s cheeks turned just lightly pink. “Yeah we did.” 

“Good kiss?” Natasha asked and Bucky chuckled, “It’s Steve, Nat. He kisses like a grandma.” 

“It was a perfectly nice kiss!” Tony defended and Bruce laughed when Thor muttered, “Aye, like a grandmother’s kiss.” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Pepper soothed Tony with a light hand on his knee. “It can be awkward to see someone you like after being apart for a while and Lord knows Steve isn’t exactly great at expressing his feelings. Give him a little bit and I’m sure he’ll come talk to you.” 

“Kay.” Tony pulled the hood of his jammies up over his head and settled back into the comfortable couch. “Catch me up on what happened when I was gone. Also, remind me to show you the picture of Sourpatch in a coconut bra.” 

Pepper started listing off everything that had happened while Tony was on vacation, and while she was mid talking about the latest at Stark Industries, Bucky tapped Tony on the shoulder and whispered, “Don’t think too much about Steve, Tony. He’s real emotionally constipated, but don’t worry, he’ll come around.” 

Tony just smiled and tried hard to ignore the wiggle of uncertainty in his heart. 

Everything was fine. 

Steve would come around. 

**************

**************

“Hey, what’s Cap doing?” 

Another cold day later that same week, another gathering around the wood stove and easy conversation, another appearance of Tony’s flannel jammies and another abrupt disappearance by Steve. 

This was the fourth get away in just as many days, Steve basically dropping whatever he was holding and all but running from the room, usually not making an appearance until after breakfast the next day. Any conversation with the Captain dwindled to about nothing, he was skipping movie nights and avoiding meals and any texts or calls to his phone had been met with radio silence. 

The behavior had been noticed by everyone, especially by Tony who had just been getting ready to sit next to Steve with a bowl of popcorn when the blond had bolted from the room, and Natasha swore something furious under her breath when Tony’s entire expression crumbled in confusion. 

“I will cut him!” she snapped and Clint hooked his arm around her waist to keep her from leaving. 

“Maybe we don’t go all stabby on an All American Hero.” he said calmly. “We don’t know what’s going with Steve or why Tony is so sad right now, but I don’t think getting blood on the carpet is the way to find out.” 

“It works with everyone else.” Natasha sniffed and Clint just laughed and kissed her. “I’m just saying, it’s been five days since Tony got home and Steve is making it awkwardly obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with him. If I have to watch Tony go all big eyed and heart broken and hide away in his hoodie one more time I’m going to scream.” 

“Hey, do you guys know what Steve’s doing?” Sam ambled in, had a kiss for his girlfriend and his boyfriend, then inclined his head out the window. “I thought maybe Bruce asked him to chop some wood, but I’m pretty sure that requires ax.” 

“What do you mean it requires a--” Clint’s jaw dropped as he looked out the window. “Wait. What is he doing? Is he-- is he punching logs? That’s not how you chop firewood!” 

“Steve’s punching logs?” Bruce had to stand on his toes to see over Sam’s shoulders. “Oh good lord, look at him go.” 

“Steve!” Sam pushed the window open and whistled sharply for the blond. “Steve! We need actual logs, not just kindling! Take ten to twenty percent off the top there, bud!” 

Steve just looked up and scowled at them, then tore a log in half with his bare hands, chucked the pieces towards the wheelbarrow and kept right on going. 

“That had no business being so sexy.” Natasha muttered, and Clint made an offended noise. “Oh please, Clint. When you can tear logs in half and make your tiddies jump like that, we can revisit the conversation.” 

“I can make my tiddies jump.” Sam defended and Bruce put both hands up and announced, “I’m slowly backing away from this conversation before it gets weird.” 

“You know....” Natasha tapped at her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Steve’s whole obsession with obliterating our fire wood supply started the day Tony came back from his trip right?” 

“Right.” 

“And Tony swears they were okay before the trip?” 

“Right.” 

“Soooo....” the fearsome redhead narrowed her eyes when Steve did another one of those jaw dropping tiddy jumping rips on a round of oak. “So what else happened that day that would explain why Steve has gone berserker on the wood pile?” 

There was silence as the group thought it through, and Thor-- who had somehow managed to sneak up on them despite his bulk-- cleared his throat and announced, “Tis simple! The Captain is simply aroused by Anthony’s sleep frock!” 

“....” 

“...”

“...uh...” Clint scratched at his head. “Aroused by-- wait, are you saying Steve is horny for Tony’s jammies?!” 

“Exactly! He cannot handle the sight of his paramour in flannel!” 

“Oh my god.” Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, Steve is jammie horny.” 

“Stevie is what horny?” Bucky ambled up towards the window and slung a friendly arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Horny for Tony’s flannel? Oh yeah, been there, knew that.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“Gimme a break, the guy turns bright red and gets all stiff legged walkin’ whenever Tony shows up in those things.” Bucky scoffed. “Then either disappears into his bedroom for hours or goes out and does whatever th’fuck this thing is. Can he go to jail for abusing his wood like that--” 

--Natasha screamed in laughter--

“--or should we just be glad for the extra kindling?” Bucky finished with a snarky grin and from clear across the room Bruce breathed out a sigh of relief that he’d gotten away from the conversation before it took that particular turn. 

“Wait wait wait, I think we need to go through the appropriate scientific process on this.” Clint’s grin was damn near evil. “We’ve made a hypothesis, now we need to observe and gather proof, and then draw our results from the information.” 

Bucky slanted Sam a look, and he supplied, “Apparently Tasha loves Bill Nye the Science Guy so they watch it together while I run in the morning.” 

“Got it.” Bucky nodded. “Alright then. Scientific process. Any ideas?” 

“JARVIS!” Natasha looked up at the ceiling expectantly. “Could we keep the compound at a cool fifty five degrees so Tony has to live in those jammies for a while?” 

“Anything for you, Ms. Romanoff.” 

Natasha grinned and Thor lowered his voice to ask Sam, “Is even AI scared of our ballerina?” 

“Eh. Probably.” 

*************

*************

For three solid days the compound stayed at a horrifyingly chilly fifty five degrees, and for three solid days Tony lived in his jammies. 

He wore them with knee high slipper boots and crunched through the snow on the porch to toss seeds and things out for the tree squirrels that hadn’t hibernated for the winter yet. 

He put his hood up and sunglasses on so only his smile was visible in a selfie for one of the social media sites that posted a Daily Picture of Tony Stark. He thought it was hilarious to submit real photos to their archive and judging by the hundreds of notifications on his phone, apparently they loved his flannel look. 

He wore them while playing chess with Bruce, his hair fluffed up to extraordinary heights while he thought each move through, his pockets full of endless candy canes because someone (Clint) kept giving him more because the look on Steve’s face while Tony sucked and licked and mmhmm!ed his way through yet another sweet treat was honestly hilarious. 

One day Tony didn’t wear them only because they were in the wash, and that day the entire team was treated to the sight of Tony curled up in one of Thor’s robes, the hem dragging the floor, the tie wrapped twice around his waist, the arms hanging six inches past Tony’s fingers and the collar ruffed around his neck until all that was left of the mighty mighty Iron Man was fluffy hair, bright eyes and a smile that crinkled up his cheeks. 

Steve walked into a wall that day on his way to be horny angry with the woodpile and Natasha air-fived with Thor because the entire thing had been a wonderful success. 

“Steve?” Today was another jammie day, another day of Steve attempting to bruise his knuckles Hulk-smashing through the wood pile, another day of Tony with his hood on and toes toasty in slippers and hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels and cleared his throat shyly. “Hey uh-- could we talk?” 

“Tony.” Steve didn’t so much as blink, staring down at his crossword puzzle hard enough to just about burn holes through it. “What’s on your mind?” 

“Well-ll-ll--” Tony inched closer, pushed his hood off his hair and blinked earnestly at the soldier. “Well, this is a little awkward cos things have been really awkward lately but I was hoping maybe you could tell me what’s going on with us.” 

Steve’s back went ram rod straight, his shoulders tense and stubborn and Tony gulped a little, played nervously with the pom-poms at the ties of his hood. 

“I just uh-- you know, we kissed before I went to Hawaii with Rhodey.” Tony rubbed at his hair sheepishly. “And it was a good kiss. Maybe a little more chaste and good ol’ boy-ish than I would have preferred but hey, I’ll take what I can get.” 

“Tony.” Steve bit out and Tony rushed on before the Captain could interrupt. 

“The thing is, ever since I came back from hanging out with Rhodey you’ve been distant.” He blurted out quickly. “And I mean-- I called you? And I texted you and I even sent you one of those dumb memes that you and Bucky always laugh at and you didn’t even read them! You left me on unread, Steve!” 

“Tony, it’s just--” 

“I just want to know if I did something.” Tony hurried to finish. “Because we’re adults and adults communicate and I realize it’s dumb to call myself an adult when I’m wearing feetie jammies but seriously, Spangles. Seriously we could have something good here and I’m not going to let it go because you got all weirdly obsessed with chopping wood and don’t want to talk to me. Talk to me.” 

“You want me to talk to you.” Steve put his pen down very slowly, lay it at a perfect ninety degree angle from his crossword puzzle, tilted and adjusted the page so it lay impeccably lined up with the edge of the table, took a sip of water and cleared his throat and then put his cup right back where it had been sitting before so not a single drop of condensation was out of place. “Okay. Let’s talk.” 

“Great.” Tony made a whew motion over his forehead. “Okay great. Steve listen, all I want to know is--” 

“Those jammies make me insane.” Steve interrupted, and Tony only had time for a startled glmphhh?! noise before he was grabbed by the front of his jammies and yanked forward into a kiss that was neither chaste nor good ol’ boyish in the least. 

“You are so goddamn cute.” Steve cursed, clutching the endlessly soft material up tighter, nipping and nibbling coaxingly at Tony’s mouth so the pretty brunette would open up and let him in. 

“Right here.” Practically a growl, Steve clutching Tony up even tighter and kissing him harder, shoving his tongue past Tony’s pliant lips and deep inside his mouth to lick and thrust with the sort of moan that most people only ever heard in nekkid movies. 

“Come here, right here.” Two big hands found their way to Tony’s ass, planted one on each cheek and used the more than generous leverage to haul Tony up onto his tip toes to drive the kiss deeper, wetter. Tony whined eagerly and Steve swept over the hood and yanked it off so he could sink his fingers into the thick curls and tilt Tony’s head just right. 

“Christ, I love you in this.” Steve mumbled, and Tony made another one of those hnnnngh! sighs when the blond latched on to his neck. “God Tony, you’re so fucking cute, it’s making me insane.” 

“C--Cute?” Tony couldn’t hardly speak when Steve was leaving kitten licks and tiny nibbles down his throat to the curve where shoulder met neck, mouthing a bruise over his pulse digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Steve what-- what--” 

“C’mere, babydoll, c’mon.” Steve fit a thick thigh between Tony’s knees and rocked into him purposefully, and when the stars and stripes and freaking bells and whistles cleared from Tony’s vision, he finally realized-- 

“Wait.” He put a hand to Steve’s chest, gratified and wholly smitten when Cap immediately leaned away and tipped his chin up to see what was wrong. “Wait. Listen, I’m one hundred percent on board with what’s happening right now, but I gotta clear something up.” 

“What is it?” Steve swept his fingers over Tony’s jaw, down his neck and around to his back, hooked his arm around Tony’s waist and settled him tighter against his body. “What do you need to know, Tony?” 

“...do my jammies make you horny?” Tony asked quietly, seriously. “Steve. Look me in the eye. Do my jammies. Make you horny.” 

There was nothing but pure adoration in Tony’s eyes, pure adoration and sparkling hilarity, and Steve wet his lips sheepishly... and nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Tony. These jammies-- the whole flannel thing and the way you hide candy in your pockets and this hood-- it makes me crazy.” 

“So...” Tony was fighting against a smile, a blush rising in his cheeks. “So when you go out and get all aggressive with the wood pile?” 

“It was either that or push you up against the wall and tear the jammies off you.” Steve confessed, grip tight at Tony’s hips as he rocked into him once, twice, approximately nine inches of All American Beef burning hot against Tony’s waist. “And since we hadn’t done nothin’ but kiss before now, I didn’t want to assume too much too soon.” 

“You’re such a gentleman.” Tony breathed and Steve grinned, “Shucks Tony, I usually try to be more of a gentleman than this.” 

“Nah, I’m on board with this. Totally on board with you being jammie horny for me.” Tony said confidently, and threw his arms back around Steve’s neck. “Bed?” 

“Bed.” 

“Do you want to take these things off me?” Tony wrinkled his nose teasingly and Steve dropped a kiss on it. “Or would you rather me do a rather flannel-y strip tease?” 

“Oh sweetheart.” Steve’s voice went low and dark and wanting, fingers tracking along the seam of the jammies over Tony’s ass and pulling hard enough to make Tony shriek. “Leave them on.” 

*******

Later, when Tony was face down on the bed and still moaning, when Steve was rubbing slow circles on his bare butt and smiling in satisfaction over the still red hand print from where he’d spanked Tony just enough to see that ridiculous booty jiggle--

Later, Tony wriggled and hummed and lifted his butt up into Steve’s palm a little more and asked, “Steve. Did you have to tear the ass of my jammies? I feel like you could have just taken them off of me.” 

“Oh.” Steve turned scarlet to the tip of his ears. “Sorry about that, honey. I guess I got carried away. Could we stitch them back together?” 

“It’s not like it’s a dick sized hole you tore.” Tony said dryly. “My entire butt is on display right now.” 

“Yeah....yeah I know.” Steve couldn’t help another satisfied smile. “I see it.” 

“You are decidedly less of a good ol’ boy than I thought.” Tony sighed happily when Steve leaned over and kissed behind his ear and down his neck. “I’m not complaining, I’m just surprised.” 

“I dunno where all the stories about me being a good ol’ boy came from.” Steve smoothed his hand down Tony’s back and went right back to his butt, kneading at the tempting curve eagerly. “I’m just mildly polite, but all bets are off when I want someone as bad as I’ve wanted you for so long. Captain America might be an American Icon, but I’m still a man, Tony.” 

“Yeah.” Tony turned on the pillow so he could offer Steve a sort of shy smile. “And one I’m fairly crazy about.” 

“You crazy about me, sweetheart?” Steve rolled on his side and snugged Tony up into him, tangling their legs and holding him close. “I’m crazy about you too.” 

“Good.” Tony twirled one of the hoodie strings through his fingers, squeezing at the pom pom idly. “We could get you a pair of these jammies, you know. I bet you look great in flannel.” 

“Absolutely not.” Steve said flatly. “I am not wearing one piece feetie jammies, Tony. I’ll leave that sorta adorableness to you.” and then curiously, “Why did you even buy these? I’ve seen you buy Versace silk pajamas, what’s with the flannel.” 

“They keep me warm.” Tony inched in tighter and wrapped both arms around Steve’s waist. “It’s like a giant hug. Also, I feel like a bear when I put the hood up and steal cookies from Bruce. It’s amazing.” 

“I’d sure like to keep you warm.” Steve murmured, bumping their noses gently. “I wanna hold you forever, Tony.” 

“Cos of the jammies?” 

“No.” Steve tipped Tony’s chin up and kissed him soft and sweet and slow. “Cos of you.” 

“But the jammies help?” Tony teased and Steve blushed all over again. “Which is why you totally ruined this pair--” 

“--sorry, honey.” 

“--but don’t worry, cos I bought one of those old fashioned pairs with buttons on the butt for easy access. It says ‘bear cheeks’ on my ass.” 

“Oh my god, Tony.” Steve groaned out loud and jerked forward, grinding his suddenly re-interested cock into Tony’s thigh. “You’re killing me.” 

Tony just laughed through another kiss and booped Steve on the nose with one of the pom poms. “Yay for cold days and you being horny for my jammies.” 

****************

Fic Notes: Tony’s jammies are my jammies, I have them in black and white, blue and white and red and black and I have been living in them for a solid week. Best. Purchase. Ever. 

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#ncts fics #stony #steve rogers #tony stark

[starlightrows]

The Perfect Day

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Dangerously high levels of fluff!

Summary: Paz goes out of the way to make your birthday special!

AN: Second time posting this, the original got deleted by mistake! This was created to celebrate my birthday! Loosely inspired by @maybege soulmate!paz!

Your nose twitches at the sweet smell of cocoa and coffee as you begin the pull towards wakefulness. The heavy blankets and duvet that keep you warm is being pulled back, and you can feel gentle breath being puffed onto your cheeks. He places gentle pressure on your forehead, again on your temple trailing down to the apple of your cheek to the tip of your nose. By the time he reaches your lips you can’t contain your sleepy smile. His laugh is deep and hearty between gentle kisses, coaxing you into opening your eyes.

“Good morning birthday girl,” he smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your face up to his to nuzzle your nose against his, feeling extra cuddly from his wake up kisses.

“Good morning,” you reply

“Made you breakfast,” he says, you open your eyes and sit up with him.

“Oh! Thank you honey,” He brings a bread tray forward, loaded with a massive plate of what you correctly assume to be savory waffles, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. He sits on the bed cross legged in front of you, placing the tray between you.

You excitedly dig, enjoying the crispy exterior of the waffles and rich chocolate laced into the coffee. He sits back enjoying his coffee, and the fruits of his labor.

“Paz, there is so much of this. How early did you get up to pull all this off?” You ask, because even with both of you eating there is a lot of food.

“Not as early as you think, this is turning out to be more of a birthday brunch than a breakfast” he smiles sheepishly. You glance at the clock on his dresser. He’s right, it’s a quarter past 11. He let you sleep in well past your normal lazy day wake up time.

“I figured if I was going to make your favorite breakfast anyway, I might as well make a lot so we can save some for the next few days,” he explains

You can’t help but smile, it was a thoughtful gesture, but if he didn’t put them away soon you’d sit there and eat the whole platter full!

When the bunch was finished, you helped him take the dishes downstairs, despite his protests.

“It’s your day love, is there anything you’d like to do?” He asks while washing the utensils you’d used to eat.

“Well with all the fresh snow on the ground, I was thinking we could pull out the snow shoes and do a hike. We could try the lookout loop again,” you reply, peeking out the massive front window at the snowy driveway and dense forest just outside the cabin. While the ground may be covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky is free of heavy cloud cover “it’s pretty clear out today, hopefully we’ll be able to see the valley this time,”

“Yeah, sounds great. I can pack the hiking bag if you want to go pull the snow shoes out from the equipment closet,” he tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. You nod and slammer off to find the snow shoes.

Half an hour later, you and Paz are sitting on the bench under the covered back porch wearing snow pants, lightweight thermal jackets, beanies and gloves; strapping the snowshoe attachments to your heavy snow boots. Paz carries the big hiking bag that houses your emergency supplies and water for the wintertime hike, while you carry the smaller bag that has snacks and a blanket for the look out point.

He gives you a hand up, and lets you lead the way to start out the hike. You’d done this hike together many times before, once you started moving you almost didn’t need to think about it. He fell in step just behind you and the two of you shared easy, fun conversation as you hiked the familiar path up the mountain. Air was still and cold, but you felt amazing, kept warm by your insulating layers and the movement of your body. This hike was beautiful as it is in the summer months, but winter was its own kind of beauty.

The last mile or so to reach the lookout point was the hardest part, Paz’s long strides made it somewhat easier for him and you laughed as he passed you on the uphill climb. Just like he always did. He welcomed you at the top with a gentle hand, leading you to the lookout point. This place was special to the two of you. You’d come up here dozens of times together, he’d proposed to you on this spot, and a year later you’d gotten married at the top of this mountain.

“You were right,” he said, directing your attention out over the valley. It was pristine and perfect. The valley was like a bowl, fully surrounded on all sides by steep snow capped mountains. The lake in the center was a deep dark inky black, without so much as a ripple on the water. The lack of breeze in the chilled air made everything still. It was absolutely gorgeous and exactly what you had been hoping for.

Paz helped ease the pack off your back, and fished the blanket out from the bottom. He did his best to dust off one of the massive boulders you often sat on when coming up here, and spread the blanket out over it.

You sat together on the blanket enjoying crisp apples, sour gummy worms, salty jerky and of course passing a thermos full of cocoa back and forth. The only acceptable lunch for a day hike you claimed.

Before long you and Paz packed up your blanket and small amount of trash back into the bag, and triple checked to make sure everything was just the way you had found it. Together you set off back down the mountain, leading for home.

As the two of you neared the edge of the forest, Paz reached out and snagged your arm.

“Shhh, look!” He whispered pointing through the trees towards the cabin. You followed his gaze and the direction of his finger. Your eyes went wide, and your jaw slacked in elated shock.

Through the trees you could see it, a massive bull moose, leisurely strolling through your backyard about 30 yards away from where you and Paz stood. You had to cover your mouth to suppress your giddiness. Moose are your favorite animal, and one of the more rare animals to see on this side of the mountain. This was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and certainly the closest you’d ever been to one.

Of course you were well aware of how dangerous they are, so being protected from its view by the trees at this comfortable distance was the best and safest scenario for you. But this was also the coolest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to you! Eventually the Moose trotted along and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the property. You shared a look with Paz.

“Oh my god! That was a little intense,” you said following him towards the house

“I know. I’ve never seen one that close in my life. I almost wish we’d had a camera,” he replied.

You sat together on the back porch once more, removing your snowshoes, and kicking the remaining snow off the bottom of your boots. Once inside both of you stripped out of your snow pants and coats, leaving you in base layers and socks. You hung up the heavy gear in the entryway closet, and collected the extra bits that could go in the wash like socks.

Paz approaches you leaned down a bit and kissed the top of your head.

“If you let me rinse off real quick, you can take a bath while I work on dinner,” he offers

You hum at the attention of his kisses, “How can I say no to that. Its a deal babe,”

True to his word, Paz jumps in for a very quick shower just to get the sweat off of his body. He emerges from the bathroom with wet hair and warm skin. He gives you one more lingering kiss before letting you run off to draw a fancy bath for yourself.

Meanwhile he busies himself in the kitchen to make sure he’s got enough time to finish dinner, that he had secretly already started that morning, as well as the dessert he had planned.

By the time you’re coming back downstairs looking very cozy in an oversized knit sweater and leggings, dinner is on the table and dessert is just going into the oven. The table is set for the two of you with your favorite meal, and a nice candle in the middle. You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“This is so romantic, you did all this for me?” You gaze lovingly at the beautiful dinner awaiting you.

“Of course,” he wraps his arms around you too, giving you a loving squeeze. He pulls away, and invites you to sit. The food is delicious, perfectly cooked just the way you like it. As you finish a timer goes off back in the kitchen.

You look past him into the kitchen, then turn your eyes back to him. “Paz?”

He grins mischievously, and gets up to pull dessert from the oven. It’s a small chocolate cake, and from the looks of it he’s attempted to make a lava cake with a gooey fudgy center. He turns it out onto a dish, and pulls the mold up and off it. He looks rather proud of himself. He sticks a single delicate white candle in the middle and deftly lights it. He sits it down in front of you with the warmest most genuine smile.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says “Don’t forget to make a wish,”

You giggle and give him a gentle smile, “I don’t know what more I could possibly wish for,” He grins at you. You do know what to wish for. You wish to be this happy every day. To feel this loved and cherished every moment for the rest of your days. You wish he would feel the same love and devotion coming from you. And you blow out the candle.

He produces two spoons and you share the dessert, finding its rich spongey cake to be without a shadow of a doubt the best dessert you’ve ever had. And you make sure to tell him that.

“I must be the most spoiled woman in the world. Breakfast, dinner and dessert! Will you at least let me help you do the dishes?” You ask when the plate has been all but licked clean of his chocolatey confection.

“Not a chance. You’re gonna go pick a movie,” he tells you, taking the plates into the kitchen to be washed. You laugh and shake your head, but acquiesce.

He joins you in the living room, and tumbles onto the couch pulling you on top of him to snuggle. In the end you choose an old favorite movie of yours, one that still makes you laugh despite the obviously terrible jokes. You’re half heartedly paying attention, more just basking in the warmth of Paz’s chest and the nostalgia of the film. Paz is not paying attention to the movie at all. He’s stroking your hair, and memorizing every detail of your face looking so blissful and content. Despite having been married for two years now, and together for two more, he could still spend an eternity studying your face and find something new or cute or amusing.

Your gaze drifted up to meet Paz, and your smile seemed to melt into a wider sleepier smile as you exhaled deeply.

“Good birthday?” He asks

“Mhm...” you nod “Perfect,”

#star wars #the mandalorian #paz viszla #paz viszla x reader #Paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #I don’t know how you’re supposed to spell Vizsla

[amelialincoln]

Haunted

“I’m not good at secrets,” Link complained as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Especially when it’s good news.” He glanced at Amelia with a wide, boyish grin on his face that made her chuckle.

“I know, babe.” She rolled her eyes. “You were telling Jo within seconds after I told you last time and we weren’t even sure that was good news yet.” Link’s eyes widened as his best friend’s name was mentioned.

“Shit, that’s gonna be hard.”

“Avoid her,” Amelia groaned, grabbing her work bag and opening the car door.

“Hey!” She glanced back to find Link waving a banana and a bottle of water.

“Not this again,” she muttered, remembering the constant nagging she received during her pregnancy with Scout. “We found out last night, Link, I don’t even qualify as pregnant yet.”

“And that’s where you're wrong. I put the prenatals in your purse. Remember the folic acid. We don’t want neural tube defects.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Amelia responded, grabbing the banana and water bottle from his wavering hands. “Wipe that grin off your face, everyone’s gonna know the moment you step into the E.R.”

“We’re having another baby,” Link sang, jogging a couple steps in front of her and glancing back with amusement.

“I hate you!” She called, trying to wipe the grin off her face as her husband waved goodbye without turning back.

Unlike Link, Amelia wasn’t paged for the upcoming trauma. Something she didn’t necessarily mind so she made the quick trip to her office instead. The room seemed stale from the week of time off they’d taken for their honeymoon. Scout’s face was priceless when the couple walked into the house last night after spending the week with Link’s parents. She wished they’d been able to spend more time with him but she promised they’d visit him at daycare, which Mer was dropping him off at for them midday. She fished through her bag finding that Link had gone a little overboard on snacks.

“Classic,” she muttered, knowing he’d probably end up eating half of them anyway. She took the prenatals easily, washing them down with the water bottle that her husband had provided and internally wishing she had a thermos full of coffee.

“Hey, are you not coming?” Maggie, stuck her head in Amelia’s office, breathless from running. “Big trauma? I’m sure you’re needed.”

“I didn’t get a page.” Amelia replied, now understanding Link's inability to keep good news to himself. Staring at Maggie’s happy expression made her want to blurt out the news so bad.

“Probably a mistake since you were off for the week. We need to catch up later over dinner or something. Just come with me now.” Her eyes flicked to the desk. “Whoa what’s with all the vitamins? You always made fun of my ‘bullshit’ morning routine.”

“Uh, Bali inspired me I guess,” Amelia sputtered.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous!” Maggie squealed. “Can’t wait to hear all about it.” Amelia nodded, following her sister as they joined the mass of doctors that were heading to the E.R.

[][][]

“Did you page, Amelia?” Was the first thing Link said to Bailey after their week off. Bailey stared at the ortho surgeon blankly, trying to control the chaos that E.R. was descending into. “Wha--”

“I made sure she wasn’t,” Webber affirmed, seeming to come out of nowhere. People were staggering around like zombies and Link swallowed uncomfortably.

“She can’t get near this today. Can we send a resident up to her office to distract her? Or just ask her to take the day off? Are you okay with being here?” He asked Webber, glancing around the room.

“I’m fine,” Richard affirmed to him and Bailey. “More of a drinker.”

“Amelia says it’s all the same.”

“If I wasn’t fine I would make that clear,” Richard shook his head. “I’ll find a resident for Shepherd. You’re needed in trauma four.” Link nodded, glancing around the E.R. once more before following the general surgeon into the crowded room.

[][][]

It was the smell that hit Amelia first as she and Maggie entered the E.R. It wasn’t like she hadn’t treated patients who reeked of weed before but the entire wing seemed to be exuding the smell of marijuana. She stumbled back slightly.

“What happened?”

“Train slid off the rails over that skate park on Elm where all the stoners hang out,” Teddy yelled over the commotion. “The majority of those injured are completely out of their minds. One of my guys tried to shoot himself up with saline. All the nurses are complaining about veins.”

“Oh,” Amelia swallowed, Teddy nodded and turned back to her patient who had begun to seize. “Little help, Shepherd?”

“Just a sec,” Amelia answered blankly, turning the corner abruptly to try and get away from the smell that was seeping into every pore of her scrubs. She pushed an intern aside before stumbling over to a waste bin and throwing up the contents of her breakfast. She tried to push the intrusive thoughts entering her mind away with no success. Her arms covered in needles, her head in a peaceful daze, Ryan. Every part of her wondered what her life would be like if he were still here, holding her, every night.

“Amelia!” A voice snapped her out of her thoughts before strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her up from her place against the wall. “Can you hear me?” She willed herself to answer, trying to focus on the familiar face that was shaking her shoulders forcefully. “Get out of the way!” Link shouted as hospital staff parted to allow for him to lead her out of the E.R. and into an on call room. “Amelia.” He pulled her into his chest, running concerned hands through her hair.

“The smell is covering me,” she mumbled, Ryan still flickering in her mind. Link nodded, pulling off his scrub top before removing hers, along with the rest of their clothes and tossing them into a waste bag.

“Go shower,” he motioned to the small bathroom connected to the room. “I’ll grab your clothes and be right back.”

“Don’t leave,” she begged, knowing that if he did she might find herself back in the E.R. surrounded by the very thing her mind was aching for. Link nodded, texting a quick message to Maggie before guiding her into the bathroom and turning on the shower head. Amelia’s thick hair absorbed smells quickly and he cleansed it until all that was left was the light fragrance of spring flowers before doing the same to his own. Maggie knocked on the door as Link wrapped Amelia into a towel and led her towards the bed.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Maggie exclaimed as she handed Link their clothes through the crack in the door.

“It’s okay, you couldn’t have known,” Link assured the worried cardio surgeon. “Bad day to come back,” he tried to joke, the worry in Maggie’s eyes didn’t lessen. “I’ll keep you updated,” he finally said. Maggie nodded, slowly shutting the door.

“Do you remember when we had that conversation after Scout was born?” Amelia’s voice came numbly from behind him. Link turned, making his way to the bed and placing a hand on her thigh before answering.

“Yeah. The one after I tried to propose to you the first time?” He willed his voice to be light.

“When I told you about wanting to get high before I went to bed and when I woke up and every so often when I was feeding Scout.” Link waited as her voice wavered. “It’s gotten better. Now it’s usually only right before I close my eyes at the end of the day. Just a little rush of euphoria I get that begs me to sneak out of our apartment and drive to a dispensary. And then I really think about it and I realize how much that would fuck up everything that I love the most. But the thought never goes away. It just lingers and waits until something like today happens. And then that little voice is suddenly screaming and I’m stuck trying to convince myself that my love for the people in my life trumps the love I have for the feeling of being high.”

“Does it?” Was all Link could think of to ask as he carefully slipped a tank top over her shivering chest.

“When there’s an E.R. full of people who have devoted themselves to feeling exactly what my body craves for every day, I’m not sure.” She answered truthfully, relaxing as he guided the tank top over her flat stomach. Link nodded, trying to suppress the impulse to yell at her about the condition she was in. “But then I remember that I’m a mother...and that I owe it to my kid...kids to be stable enough to bring another life into the world. Even though I know they’d be fine with just their dad.”

“We would not be fine,” Link acknowledged firmly, wanting to shake her out of the daze that she was in. “I would not be fine.” Amelia nodded blankly.

“Can you hold me?” Her voice was soft. “And can you describe our baby again? Like you were doing last night?” Link nodded, rolling up her shirt carefully and placing a gentle hand on the bottom of her abdomen.

“Mhmm,” he held back any tears that were threatening to fall from the thought of ever losing her. “Our baby is going to be a splitting image of her mother. With long chocolate curls and ocean blue eyes. Oh and stubborn, to the point where you can’t bother arguing with her because she is also always the smartest person in the room. She’ll have my nose and skin that actually sunburns. Which means she’ll have to learn to apply sunscreen like her dadda and not like her brother or mom. She’ll be upset about this first, wanting her mother’s perfectly tanned complexion but she’ll get used to it. She’ll have her mother’s body type, slim and athletic, but her dad’s height and, like Scout, she will…”

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelink fanfiction #amelink fanfic #amelinkfanfic #atticus lincoln #atticus link #greysanatomy #atticuslincoln #myfics #fanfiction

[cuddlepilefics]

We can tell

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

 No one's POV.:

Jeongin knew he could always rely on his hyungs. The were all quite protective of the youngest and would baby him at all times, despite Jeongin trying to push them away. Often times the attention became too much for him. Did they really not trust him for to things on his own? Sure, he appreciated their help when he asked for it but he was an adult too, who should be able to face most of his problems alone. It always got worse, when Jeongin was sick. In no time, the entire group would be pining over him and baby him. It always made the maknae feel guilty because he wasn't even feeling too bad but his friends would do everything for him. Want a drink? Don't move, I got it! Though he would be perfectly able to get stuff for himself, his hyungs would get it for him and he felt bad about his hyings unnecessarily going out of their way for him.

That's why at some point, Jeongin decided to not tell his hyungs when he felt unwell anymore. He'd go ask them for help or Medici ne when he knew it was getting to bad and he needed help but in the main time, he would handle himself. That was also exactly his plan when his throat started to hurt during his vocal lesson. He had probably only strained it a bit anyway. He'd make himself some tea when he got home and it should go away soon. Luckily, the vocal lesson was the last part of his schedule for the day and he could go straight home afterwards. Until his phone dinged with a message that is. Hyunjin had texted and asked if he wanted to join Changbin, Felix and him to get some ice cream. Jeongin contemplated it but decided the cold fruit wouldn’t do his throat any good and that he'd rather have some warm tea. He quickly typed and apology, feeling bad that he had to cancel on his friends. Then he header back to the dorm, happy that his workday was over.

As expected Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix weren't there when he got back. Neither were Chan and Jisung, who had texted the groupchat earlier, statong they'd stay at the studio late. Minho was probably in his room, while Seungmin stood in the kitchen. “Hey, what’s you making, hyung?”, Jeongin smiled, ingnoring the pain in that came with speaking. Seungmin continued to stir in the pit infront of him, turning to him with a smile: “I’m making some hot chocolate to drink while watching a movie. Want some too? You sound like your lesson was intense.” The maknae nodded, it was easy with Seungmin, the other vocalist had been in the same situation multiple times before. It was probably something that just came with their job. While the older finished up their drinks, Jeongin got two cups out and sat them on the counter before raiding their cupboards for marshmallows. He didn't find any so when Seungmin added some cream on top, the younger just added some colorful sprinkles. Jeongin decided to just join his friend with his movie since he didn't have much else to do and he wouldn't have to talk.

What he didn’t expect though was the fatigue that suddenly set in and with the help of the soothing warm drink, he was out before even making it to the middle of the movie. When Seungmin woke him up for dinner, Jeongin needed a second to recognize his surroundings. What he noticed first was the headache thumping behind his temples and the quilt Spread over his legs. They usually kept it over the back of the couch but it seemed like Seungmin had tucker him in after he nodded off. “Hey, the others bought home take out. We got you soup because I thought it'd be easiest on your throat”, the older explained. Jeongin scratched his head awkwardly, mumbling: “You didn’t have to go out of your way for me. My throat will be fine tomorrow.” – “Innie, I've strained my voice in lessons multiple times. We both know how much it sucks and just because it will be better tomorrow doesn’t mean we want you to suffer today. Besides, that was barely any trouble. Come on, let's eat. The others are waiting”, Seungmin smiled.

Despite his nap earlier, Jeongin felt tired and went to bed soon after dinner. His roommate Jisung didn't comment on it but he also turned his bedside lamp off and put in his headphones. The maknae was really grateful for it because his head was still hurting and he couldn't wait to get some rest. Sadly, rest didn’tcome as easy as he had hoped, instead he kept tossing and turning, frequently waking up drenched in sweat from another nightmare. Usually, the maknae wasn’t one to have nightmares and most of the times, he got them when he had a fever. Knowing this, Jeongin got up in the early morning hours and took his temperatur. Sure enough, he was running a mild fever. It wasn’t bad enough to concert him, he was just upset that he couldn’t rest properly. Especially now, that his headache had increased. Sighing to himself, Jeongin took some medicine for his headache and winced at how scratchy his throat felt. He knew he didn’t just push himself too hard the previous day, he was most definitely coming down with something. It would be okay though, he could take care of himself.

Jeongin groaned when jisung's phone blasted ‘fancy you'. Sure, he liked twice but it was way too early to blast any music at that volume. He grabbed his pillow and threw it at Jisung to get him to shut his alarm off. It took a while but eventually it stopped and the maknae almost went back to sleep. He was already drifting off again, when Chan popped his head into the room to make sure they were up, leaving Jeongin no choice but to get out of bed. He shivered as soon as the blanket was gone and decided to wear a hoodie with a t-shirt underneath. They were going to the studio for some recording today and he didn’t want to be cold there. Jisung left their room first, giving Jeongin the chance to try out his voice. He knew it hurt but he didn’t expect to sound this bad. Not even straining himself during practice ever left him this hoarse. How would he be able to hide this from his group. Sure, he'd just try not to talk but eventually he'd have to. Plus, how was he going to record? They'd know then at the latest.

The others greeted him sleepily, when Jeongin joined them for breakfast. He just gave them a smile in return, so they thought he was still tired. Chan pushed a plate in front of him and ruffled the maknae’s hair affectionately. It all went well and Jeongin remained silent throughout their meal till Hyunjin addressed him directly. When the younger just shrugged in response, he frowned: “Yah, talk to your hyung!” The youngest just lowered his head in shame before Seungmin spoke up: “Jinnie, leave him be. He strained his voice yesterday and probably wants to rest it, so he can give his best later. Right Innie?” – ‘Thanks, hyung’, he mouthed with a smile, glad that one of them understood. “Aish. Next time maybe shoot us a text as a warning. We got a bit worried when you just kept quiet”, Chan chuckled, “If you don’t feel up to recording, let us know, okay?” Jeongin nodded and continued eating. Afterwards, he went through his morning routine and applied a good amount of concealer to cover the dark circles under his eyes. He also snuck some more painkillers into his pocket to take later and found a bag of cough drops at the back of his closet, which he quickly shoved into his backpack. Maybe, just maybe, they’d fix his voice enough for him to sing later. He was absolutely dreading the moment he had to record, fearing he wouldn’t be able to but his wishful thinking motivated him to push on.

Jeongin slept through the entire drive to the studio. Initially, he had fallen with his head against the window but it looked highly uncomfortable, so his seatmate Changbin carefully moved the youngest’s head onto his shoulder. While doing so, he clearly noticed the difference between the temperature of Jeongin’s skin and his own. Making sure the maknae really was a sleep, he whispered: “Guys, Innie has a fever.” Chan immediately leaned over to feel the youngest’s forehead for himself, his face dropping when he had to realize his dongsaeng was hiding something from them. Now that it was confirmed that Jeongin was sick, Changbin refused to wake him when they arrived. Instead, he carried him up to the study and laid him down on the couch there. The members either piled onto the other couch or sat on the floor, so their dongsaeng could rest. They weren’t planning on confronting him when he woke up, they’d rather Jeongin admitted it himself, so they continued to work, recording their parts while shooting the youngest concerned glances every now and then.

It had been almost an hour, when Jeongin sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around confused, trying to figure out where he was. “You fell asleep in the car, so Changbin carried you to the studio. We thought some extra sleep wouldn’t hurt, since you’re not due to record until later”, Felix chuckled at the younger’s dazed look. Minho sat down on the couch next to Jeongin, a plastic cup in his hands, as he smiled: “I brought a large thermos bottle of tea, I thought it might help your throat some.” Jeongin bit his lip looking sad all of a sudden. Then he pulled his phone out and typed: ‘I really appreciate it hyung but seriously I’m fine. You wouldn’t have needed to bother doing that.’ He already felt guilty enough that Changbin had had to carry his lazy ass all the way up here, when he could have walked by himself perfectly fine. “Well, what if I wanted to?”, Minho asked and pressed the plastic cup into his dongsaeng’s hand. The youngest immediately wrapped both hands around it to warm, only noticing now how cold he felt. He gave Minho a shy and grateful smile before taking a careful sip, trying not to burn his mouth.

Minho had added a generous amount of honey and Jeongin almost sighed at how soothing it felt going down his throat. He didn’t want to admit it but he was quite happy that the dancer had gone out of his way to bring this along. Sadly, once the cup was empty, he didn’t have anything to warm him anymore and the chills were slowly starting back up. How could he possibly feel this cold, considering the layers he had put on? Pretending to go to the bathroom, the maknae snuck away to take another dose of painkillers. They were supposed to also lower his temperature, so maybe he’d feel a bit warmer if his fever went down a bit. At the same time, his hyungs knew he was lying about needing the bathroom, they were suspicious as to what he was really doing, hoping he didn’t feel sick to his stomach too, but they didn’t want to follow and pressure him too much. Should he be gone for too long, one of them would go look for him. “Is it just me or did you notice Jeongin shivering too?”, Jisung asked thoughtfully. Seungmin shook his head, stating: “Not just you, I think his fever is giving him chills.” They didn’t manage to speculate much further because right that moment, Jeongin returned.

‘Aish, what am I going to do with that little rebel? It would be so easy if he could just give in to the truth, so we could take care of him’, Chan sighed, rubbing his temples. He could still see the youngest shaking, though he tried so hard to conceal it. Then the leader had an idea. He got up and grabbed his coat, wrapping it around Jeongin’s shoulders. The he tried to muster as much of a lighthearted smile as he could and hummed: “Innie, it’s your turn soon, so you should probably start warming up. That way we can also hear how your voice is doing.” The vocalist was fast to regain his composure but the split second of horror, that flashed across his face, didn’t go unnoticed by Chan. Jeongin cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face despite the pain, and tried to hum a little tune, they often used to warm up. Apart from him, there was complete silence in the room, everyone waiting for the moment of truth and cringing in sympathy at how raspy his usually clear voice sounded. Chan was the first to react when Jeongin suddenly broke into tears, pulling him into a hug. It wasn’t even the pain getting to him. It was his frustration about not being able to record that day and therefore holding his group back. His frustration about showing his hyungs that he wasn’t doing his best today and thereby making them worry about him.

“It hurts that bad?”, Seungmin asked in shock. Jeongin shook his head, while the oldest rubbed his back. He croaked: “I-I’m sorry, now I’m holding all of you back again. I’m just so – so f-frustrated w-with myself.” He didn’t even know why he got so worked up about it because he really wasn’t this emotional, maybe the fever got to him more than he wanted to admit. Chan clicked his tongue, leaning closer to Jeongin’s ear, and whispered softly: “Why do you always think you’re holding us back? You can just record another day. If you keep forcing yourself now, you might even damage your voice. That’s not worth it.” The younger sniffled and nodded into Chan’s neck. “Most of us are done already, so why don’t you go home with them and rest a bit? You don’t need to hang around here, especially since I’m sure, your bed is more comfortable than that couch and we wouldn’t want you cold getting worse”, the leader mused. Jeongin pulled away shocked, frowning: “How do you know?” – “Innie, we can tell when you’re sick”, Chan chuckled and helped his dongsaeng to put his coat on properly, so Minho, Felix and Seungmin could take him home. Being producers, Chan and Changbin had to stay back at the studio to finish up with Hyunjin and Jisung but they’d all join them at the dorm in another hour or two.

Jeongin had stopped crying but remained quiet on their way to the car. While settling in, Minho poured him some more tea before shoving the thermos back into his backpack. “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick, Innie? Or should I say, why did you try so hard to hide it from us?”, Minho asked hesitantly. The youngest bit his lip, selecting his words carefully: “You’re always there for me, all of you. You worry so much. I can take care of myself but y’all keep babying me and I feel guilty when you worry and do things for me that I can do myself. You don’t have to go out of your way for me and every time you do, I feel like a burden. I don’t want to be a burden. I took medicine and sucked on cough drops, went to bed early. I really did take care of myself.” When he started to get worked up again, Felix side-hugged him, causing him to shut up. “Well, it is our job as your hyungs to worry about you, there’s no way around it. You should know, as Chan said, we can tell when something’s up and if you don’t talk to us, we’ll most likely assume something a lot worse than what is actually going on. If you really want us to worry less, be honest with us, so we can see what we’re dealing with. Second, how dare you consider yourself a burden? You’re our baby and of course, we’ll always be there for you”, Minho frowned. Felix nodded and continued: “You might not understand the way we feel about you but we really love doing things for you, so please, please, please don’t feel guilty about it. For you it might seem like a bother going out of our ways but we really want to do all of that.” – “And, we don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself, probably better than half of this group. The thing is though, you don’t have to. If you really want to be more independent, that’s fine. We’ll try to hold ourselves back but just know, we’ll be there, not because we have to but because we want to”, Seungmin added. By now, Jeongin was almost tearing up again, touched by his hyungs’ words. He took a deep breath to calm himself, inhaling a faint whiff of Chan’s scent from the coat he was wearing. They really did care about him like brothers.

Already in a better mood after their talk, they made their way to the dorm, where Minho announced: “Let’s get a read on that fever and if it’s not too high, why don’t you take a nice warm bath. You’re still shivering.” They kicked off their shoes and Minho took him to the bathroom, watching as Jeongin took his temperature himself. It was moderate but not too high, so Minho started a warm bath while Jeongin went to pick out some comfortable clothes for himself. On his way back to the bathroom, he was stopped by Seungmin. “Hey, we thought it’d be fun to do a movie marathon if you feel up to it? And I wanted to ask if you’d prefer tea or hot chocolate like yesterday”, the second youngest asked. A wide smile spread on Jeongin’s face and he shyly requested: “Hot chocolate would be nice but you really don’t have to. I liked it when we watched the movie yesterday.” – “I’ll make hot chocolate for all of us, don’t worry about it”, Seungmin giggled and ruffled his only dongsaeng’s hair. Jeongin was just about to enter the bathroom with the pile of clothes in his hands when Felix came sliding on his fuzzy socks, panting: “Wait, wait, wait, I found this really cute pink bathbomb in my bag of toiletries and I want you to have it.” The maknae blushed, resembling the shade of the bathbomb itself, and thanked the Aussie before finally returning to the bathroom.

The tub was already filled and Minho told him to enjoy, before leaving to give his dongsaeng some privacy. He helped Felix set up pillows, blankets and some additional beanbags, so every member would find a spot when they returned from the studio. The living room was already smelling comfortingly sweet from the chocolate Seungmin was melting for their drinks. Maybe their dongsaeng wasn’t feeling all that awful but that didn’t mean that they didn’t want do make him as comfortable as possible and cuddle him all better. Plus, who’d say no to some quality time with their cute maknae? A group movie marathon really sounded like heaven right now and the only thing that could make it even better was the hot chocolate Seungmin prepare, decorating it with cute colorful sprinkles just like Jeongin liked it.

#stray kids #skz #sick #sickfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #whump #comfort #yang jeongin

[janekfan]

hi mom! quick update: i had a panic attack at work the other day. luckily my coworker/manager knew what it was and helped me out but i still had to do the rest of my shift but at least i got the next day off. hours are still bad but everyone around me is talking about how proud they are of me... i just barely managed to scrape up a 50 cent raise... im one of three people on my shift... i cant take time off. i know you already did one for me but... i dont have much else to bring comfort

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072691

My darling child! <3 <3 <3 This is inadequate! And I shall do better soon! But I love you and hope this offers a little comfort!

When asked later if he’d known, Tim lied. Of course not. He hadn’t realized just how sick Jon had been, certainly didn’t know how long it’d been. After all, no one really saw him most days, skulking as he did around the archives, a flickering, limping shadow among the stacks. Jon didn’t have use for them and Tim didn’t have use for him. Not until they enacted their plan of attack and finished things once and for all.

So no. When he’d dropped by to toss Martin’s research at him he ignored the pallor, the beads of sweat dotted along his forehead and matting his curls. He paid no mind to the dark flush high in his face, the glazed distance in his eyes, the shortness of his breath as he fought to form one coherent thought. A plea veiled in a request and it gave Tim all the excuse he needed to conveniently forget to fetch Martin for him.

“T’Tim...could, could you ask Martin to, to.” Jon could barely finish a thought. Exhausted, he’d been under so much stress, running himself ragged on adrenaline and awful, terrible statements, and he just wanted to see someone kind. Someone who might help him instead of hate him. Someone who maybe didn’t want to hurt him or kill him. Or worse. “I’d like t’to speak with him? P’please?”

“Sure, Boss.”

Martin wasn’t coming.

Martin wasn’t coming and Jon was miserable. But he didn’t blame Martin for staying away. It was alright. He was probably upset with him or angry or had a hundred other reasons to avoid seeing him and it was fine.

Jon let his cheek collide with the tea-stained blotter and slow tears slipped down to join the other watermarks, the rust traces of his blood. With a thin, trembling finger he connected the scars etched into the surface like constellations, each one tied to a memory; some he remembered, some he’d forgotten, some he wished he could forget. Why the old desk even had this second skin he would never know; it was already damaged and scratched and why bother protecting it when it could never go back to the way it was before? Heaving a shaky breath that didn’t give him near enough air to sustain him, Jon closed his eyes. It would be a lovely thing if sleep restored anything or made him feel anything other than relief for the blissful span of unmeasured time he spent not feeling. Floating, dizzy and suspended here in the dark, so tired it seemed like the room was expanding around him with every hard won exhale, shrinking to crush him with every inhale.

It didn’t seem worth it.

Like he wasn’t worth it.

When Jon was asleep, he drifted along unfamiliar currents, memories that didn’t belong to him or anyone that he knew from hundreds of years ago, from mere months ago. From far underwater he listened to the sounds of the office fade away through a closed door that may as well have been a kilometer away for all the strength he had left. Everyone was leaving for the weekend and he wasn’t able to stand. Everyone was leaving and he wasn’t able to call out, snared in these fathomless depths and sinking fast.

Silence.

Thick. Blanketing. Suffocating.

He was drowning in it. Struggling to breach the surface only seconds at a time to snatch at sips of air and seawater.

The safety lights cast shadows that slipped along the floor like oil, into the cracks, up the walls Jon clung to, casting just enough light to see by and aggravating his head. He wanted to sleep. He needed water and it was how he found himself in the dingy break room leaning heavily on the sink, holding on for dear life as he weathered the salt swells, the tilting of the room and the vertigo swirling up, up, up. The first glass met its end on the floor when it slipped from Jon’s grip and he could have sobbed from the loss, from how hard he’d worked for it only to let it go. The next he cradled close in both hands, sitting at the rickety table and gulping down close to half before coming up to breathe. Cool rivulets trickled down his throat, soaked into the neck of his borrowed tee and he shivered. It was always cool down here. For the documents. Only now he was freezing, longing to fall into the cot, just rest, but it was too far away. He’d never make it as he was. He drank the rest of the water and went through the trouble of a second glass. There were no bottles in the fridge, none in the cupboards. He’d never be able to carry it back to his office. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. Why was this so hard? Laying his head on folded arms, Jon let the frustration come, shoulders shaking, and when he woke again he forced more water on himself and limped to the doorway.

Which way?

This time, a cough bubbling up in his lungs jerked him out of the deep. It was harsh, painful, and he lost the remaining water in his stomach from the force of it, tasted iron behind his tongue. Groaning, clutching at his aching chest, Jon realized he was on the floor in the hallway. Not even halfway to his goal and he didn’t remember collapsing. His limbs were lead, movement sluggish because of it, and he only managed to drag himself another meter before the spiraling of the corridor forced him to close his eyes. The fever was relentless, sapping him of everything, throbbing in his bones and boiling in his blood. Jon coughed again. The hot, tight tangle in the center of him drew tighter, a noose, instead of giving way and the black lurking at the edges of his vision swallowed the rest of it.

Martin adjusted the blanket in his arms, thinking again that it would have been easier to have put it in his bag for the walk from the train. He didn’t regret his choice though. He remembered how cold it could get down in the archives and Jon looked like he could do with a bit of comfort these days. Maybe being wrapped up in this monster would do it. Shouldering it, he took the narrow stairs, surprised that no one else was here yet. But considering none of them really wanted to do much actual work these days it made sense. Martin got his things situated at his desk, leaving the comforter overflowing in his chair before heading off to start the tea kettle warming. Glass crunched under his shoes and when Martin turned on the light it was clear Jon had dropped it. What was confusing was that he had left it. He wasn’t the most fastidious about his appearance or his surroundings but even he wouldn’t leave broken glass just lying around. WIth a crease in his brow, Martin swept it up, dumping it in the bin before turning off the squealing kettle. He prepared two mugs as usual and the only reason he didn’t drop them upon seeing Jon crumpled up in the hall was because he froze stock still.

“J’Jon?” He abandoned the tea on a desk, skidding on his knees to a stop at his side. “Jon! Oh, no, no. Jon, wake up.” Ashen, burning up under Martin’s fluttering hands, chest stuttering with half breaths. Had he been like this all weekend? Had he been like this before they all left? How did, why didn’t he check on him? Only when Martin slid his arms beneath his body did Jon stir at all, a pitiful sound of pain pulled from between his lips when he was lifted. A halfhearted cough ending in a moan. “It’s alright, Jon. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” He should call 999. That’s what he should do but with all that had been happening, was that the right choice?

“Mmar’in…” He toed open the door to document storage and laid him down, brushed back his curls and took up the cold hand Jon was reaching with. “Ma--” His grip was barely there when the deep, damp coughing jag stole the air right out of him, so strong Martin levered him forward, worried he would choke. Days. Days alone like this. He swept the tears away with careful fingers, traced the shadows like bruises beneath his eyes.

“It’s alright.” He propped him up against the corner, wishing there were more pillows to make him comfortable and pulled away, heart twisting up when Jon whimpered at the loss. “Hush, now. I’ll be back, I won’t leave you.” Quick as he could Martin gathered supplies, medicine for the raging fever, the blanket he’d brought along, a thermos of tea, checking on Jon in his fitful sleep with each trip. He sounded bad, he was having too much trouble breathing and the crackling wheeze was terrifying. The next time he came back it was with a basin of hot water and a towel. He placed it in Jon’s lap, sliding behind him to steady both him and the bowl, gentling him when he startled. “Just breathe, Jon. This, this should help.” The steam rose, bathing his face with humidity and it was probably wishful thinking but Martin thought each breath came a little easier. When Jon coughed Martin pressed a handful of tissue against his mouth, tossing the mess into the bin and letting him curl up against him for just a few moments. He was so warm. Too warm and Martin plied him with paracetamol and tea, as much as he would take before letting him fall back to sleep, smoothing a damp flannel over his forehead and leaving him to rest.

Soft, cool hands, kind, reassuring words. Jon drank them in like a desert after the rain, let them flood him, take away all the fear and loneliness he was holding onto. Martin was here. Martin was helping. Martin was holding him, saying things he didn’t quite understand in a steady voice. He wanted to cry from the relief of it, of having someone, of not being alone and he thought he might have but there was no teasing or threatening. Nothing he did made him hurt more. Everything he did made him hurt less. There was tea and pillows and blankets, warmth to replace the memory of lying on a cold floor and drifting in and out.

But he was gone now. He’d left him alone and Jon wanted him here. Struggling to his trembling legs he gave himself time to steady, limping out of the room and following the familiar voices and latching onto Martin’s. He sounded upset and Jon wondered if it was because of him. Most people were upset with him these days. He heard Basira and Melanie and Tim and he didn’t want to see them but Martin was with them and he wanted to see Martin. Martin with his kindness he didn’t deserve. He was cold. He was shaking.

Tim was yelling.

It made something in him afraid.

It made his chest hurt. It made it harder to breathe. It made him want to hide. And when he became even louder, Jon shrank into himself. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t.

“And speak of the devil!” Tim’s mocking tone rang in his head like a bell. “He shall appear.”

“Tim!”

“I’m. M’Martin? I.”

“What, Boss? What else could you possibly take that you haven’t already?”

“J’just--” Still human enough to want, too much a monster that he wasn’t allowed to have. Tim took a threatening step forward, and Jon forgot what he was going to say in favor of stumbling backwards, falling to the ground and knocking the air out of himself. He clawed at his neck, suddenly completely unable to breathe when Tim stood over him, towering and tall and seconds later Martin was taking up the whole of his horizon. Just Martin.

“It’s alright, Jon. Let’s get you back to bed, hm?”

“W’will you stay?” He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the sniggering coming from behind the larger man confirming what he already knew. Martin had already helped him. He had no right to ask for more. But again Martin carried him to document storage and again he placed him on the cot and this time, he stayed with him, wrapping him up warm and safe and tucking his head beneath his chin. Jon shuddered, the aftershocks of his panic and embarrassment still rocketing through him. “Martin...don’t. Don’t feel well…”

“I know.” Martin pet his head slowly and Jon relished it, pressing his ear against his broad chest and listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. He probably wouldn’t remember this anyway, not with a fever like this already making everything so fuzzy, and he wanted, just for a little while, to feel safe. “I’m sorry.” It was nice to hear even though Martin had nothing to apologize for. It was still nice that someone would say sorry to him. Exhausted all over again, the space between blinks stretched longer and longer. “You can sleep, Jon.” But what if he left? He didn’t want him to leave, the thought of it wetting his face and just like before Martin wiped the tears away. “It’s okay, just close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #but just enough to cause problems #sickfic #pneumonia #fever #caretaking #sleep #jon just wants hugs #each word of this was painstakingly pulled out of my brain with pliers #i am not loving this one :/

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (15/19)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Doctor's Disorders}

“Ugh, what is that smell?” Danny asked as he and Valerie approached Tucker.

“This,” Tucker held up a spray can. “It’s my new all-over body spray. I made it myself, I call it Foley by Tucker Foley. It combines with your natural odor to create a sweet, manly scent that smells different to everyone who sniffs it.”

Their noses scrunched up as Tucker started spraying himself.

“Tuck, you smell like a sweaty cookie.”

“By choice. The ladies will be swarming all over me.”

“Doubtful,” Valerie snorted. “You smell horrible.”

He pointed at her with the can. “You don’t count. You’re already dating Dan-”

The can slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground, spraying Valerie in the process.

She scowled as the smell of sports bra and sugar cookies washed over her. “You better hope this washes out,” she growled and shoved past him towards the locker room. Thankfully she had first period free so she could shower and drown her clothes in perfume. It didn’t completely help, but it was better. Maybe she should consider keeping a spare set of clothes in her locker. It’d help for the times she tears her clothes in a fight.

“Anyone in here?” Tetslaff called just as she finished fixing her hair.

“I’m here,” she said, tossing her mini curling iron into her locker. She grabbed her bag and walked towards the door to see Tetslaff eyeing her.

“You feeling okay, Gray? Any bug bites?”

“No. I’m fine. Why?”

“All students need to report to the gym. Anyone else here?”

She shook her head. “Bailey was in here, but she left a few minutes ago.

The PE teacher nodded and escorted her to the gym. She was surprised to see the entire student body either sitting or laying on the floor and bleachers, most of whom were glowing. The teachers were hovering over everyone as a man in a doctor’s uniform drifted through, occasionally stopping to talk to the students.

When he saw her, he came over. “And who do we have here?”

“Valerie Gray, what’s going on?”

“What symptoms is she showing?” he asked Tetslaff, ignoring Valerie’s question.

“None as far as I’ve seen,” she grunted and the doctor frowned behind his mask.

“Interesting. She’s the fourth one. Sit her with the others.” He gestured to the corner and Valerie smiled to see Danny, Sam, and Tucker waiting there.

They looked surprised when she joined them and Danny pulled her into a hug. “You okay?”

“Other than still smelling a little awful, I’m perfect. What’s going on?” she asked, pulling back but staying pressed into his side.

Sam gestured to the other students. “Some sort of ghost bug, literally. A whole swarm attacked the school and started phasing into people, resulting in that. You didn’t notice?”

“I’ve been in the showers.” She sent Tucker a look and he ducked behind Sam. “None of you got the bug?”

They shook their heads and Danny pointed off to the side, “Jazz did though.”

Valerie looked over to see Danny’s sister curled up on a mat, her body fuzzy at the edges. “Well, there goes the idea that prolonged exposure to ghost hunting equipment is what’s protecting us. Are your parents doing anything?”

Danny shrugged. “We’ve been in here the whole time. The doctor said he wanted us close since we’re the only ones showing signs of immunity. And they took our phones so I can’t call my parents.”

She smirked and took out her phone. “Looks like they forgot to take mine.”

Danny took it and the three crowded around him to keep him from sight.

“Do your parents have something that could fix this?” Sam asked as Danny dialed.

He thought about it for a second then smiled. “Mom, Dad… Yeah, I’m okay… Really? That’s weird. Why wouldn’t they tell you anything? Nevermind, I’ll explain everything, but can you guys grab the Ghost Catcher before you leave?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it just me or does Dr. Rand look really mad that his patients are being cured?” Valerie hummed.

Said doctor was currently standing off to the side as the teachers lead students through the ghost catcher, Danny’s parents sucking up the ghost bugs as they were pulled out.

Jazz took in his scowl with a frown. “Maybe it’s a pride thing? He was pretty much useless.”

“Or maybe he was part of a government conspiracy to experiment on us while we possessed ghost abilities,” Sam suggested.

“Sounds like something the Guys in White would do,” Danny muttered sleepily from his spot in Valerie’s lap.

“He’s a doctor. All doctors are evil,” Tucker agreed.

“What’s his problem?” Valerie whispered to her boyfriend.

“He’s afraid of doctors, nurses, hospitals, so on.”

“What’d you say his name was again?” Jazz asked, still staring at the man.

“Dr. Bert Rand.”

“Bertrand? Like Ms. Spectra’s gh-assistant?” Jazz stuttered.

The trio turned to her, then groaned, “Oh my god, we’re idiots.”

Valerie frowned as their voices nudged at her, but pushed it aside as Jazz asked, “What?”

“Spectra was a ghost, same for Bertrand. They must be behind the attack on the school,” Sam explained.

Valerie narrowed her eyes and moved Danny off of her. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Jazz bit her lip as the girl left, then nudged Danny. “You three should go too. You, uh, don’t know when you might get another chance.”

They frowned, but agreed quickly and left.

Jazz smiled and leaned back. Those three could take care of the ghosts. Now she just needed an excuse for when Valerie got back.

{Pirate Radio}

Jazz sighed as she relaxed on her blanket, only to frown when someone started messing with the radio.

She sat up to glare at Tucker. “Knock it off!”

He held up his hands and backed up.

“Come on, Jazz. This music bites,” Danny said. “It’s our turn to pick something to listen to.”

“I like it. It relaxes me.”

“Well, we do outnumber you four to one,” Valerie pointed out.

Jazz grabbed the radio and held it close to her, scowling at the younger teens that she had joined on the Ops Center for stargazing.

Just then, the ground began to rumble and a pirate ship of all things burst intangibly out of the street.

Jazz jumped to her feet and gestured her brother back. “Danny, you, Sam, and Tucker need to go. Uh, go get our parents. Downstairs. Out of view.”

“R-right, we’ll go get them,” Tucker said and the trio ran off.

“I thought your parents were out,” Valerie said.

“Oops, I forgot.” Jazz turned to the girl and was surprised to see her pulling a ghost pistol out of her bag.

The girl froze. “Oh, uh, Danny gave it to me. For, you know, protection?”

As cute as it was that Danny was so worried about his girlfriend, Jazz would have to talk to him about handing out weapons of all things.

“Got anything else in there?”

Valerie tossed her a thermos just as a group of pirate ghosts landed on the Ops Center. The two girls went to work blasting and sucking up ghosts. Jazz saw a pair heading for the shield and pointed them out to Valerie, but Danny or one of his partners cut them off. She turned back to the main group of pirates and smiled when she saw the other two flying through the air.

She frowned when they seemed to fire on nothing. “What are they doing?”

Valerie looked up, then gave her an incredulous look. “Fighting the ghost captain.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Weird,” she shot a headless pirate and Jazz sucked him in. “Can you hear him?”

“No.”

“Lucky you. He’s a brat. Maybe eight or nine years… Okay, so he’s eleven. Like that makes a big difference,” she snorted. Then her eyes widened and she barrelled into Jazz.

Something exploded behind them.

“You’ve never babysat, have you? Jazz asked as they picked themselves up. “Kids don’t like to be told they’re younger than they think they are.”

“I’ve only babysat actual babies. They don’t talk back,” Valerie said.

The ghost ship flickered then disappeared.

“What happened?”

“Doppelgänger caught the brat.”

The sound of a guitar-strumming echoed around them and two of Danny’s trio slammed into the ground in front of the girls.

“Ember’s back,” they said, rubbing their heads. “You guys might want to either get inside or put on Specter Deflectors before you get hypnotized.”

“M. Bersback? The guy who gave us that awful Vapor Drone? He’s a ghost?” Valerie asked.

They stared at her blankly, then one threw their hands in the air. “Oh come on! That's not a clue. That's a billboard! We really got to start paying more attention to these things!”

{Reign Storm, Part 1}

“Did you get the book report done?” Valerie asked as she passed Danny a water bottle.

“Mm-hm.” He took the bottle and tried to drink it.

“Lid Danny,” she chuckled.

He scowled and took the lid off. “I think you beat the ghost out of me.”

“Then I did my job,” she chuckled. “Seriously though, you’re doing really good.”

“Can I have my black belt then?”

“Not quite. Now come on, we’ve still got fifteen minutes before we need to clean up.”

He groaned, but pushed himself to his feet and followed her over to the wrestling mat. Jazz had somehow talked Tobias, the wrestling coach, into letting them use it for their sparring in the morning after Tuesday’s practice in return for cleaning up after. It was a lot better than sparring at home, even if it did mean getting up way too early.

Of course, being at school meant there were sometimes distractions.

“Think fast, Fentoni!”

Danny turned just as Valerie caught the football that was headed for him.

“Unless you’re here to spar, then get lost, Dash,” she huffed, tossing the ball to Kwan.

“Spar with Fenton?” Dash laughed and Kwan joined in.

“You’d snap him in half before he could even throw his first punch!”

“I thought I said to get lost,” Valerie growled stepping between them and Danny.

Dash leered at him. “You gonna let a girl fight your battles.”

Danny raised an eyebrow as Valerie stiffened. “Now you f-ed up.”

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean, Baxter?” she asked, cracking her knuckles.

Kwan grabbed Dash’s shoulder and whispered something that made Dash pale.

“J-just that Fenton’s too weak to fight his own battles, he has to rely on his girlfriend to do it for him. I did-din’t mean, you know, that a girl couldn’t kick butt.”

“Nice save,” Danny said and Dash gave him a death glare.

“Leave,” Valerie said.

They did.

“I’m definitely going to pay for that later,” Danny chuckled as he got into position on the mat.

“If you’re not going to fight back then stop antagonizing him,” she said.

“I’ve considered fighting back.”

“Then why don’t you.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t met Sidney Poindexter, then.”

“Who?”

“He’s the ghost who haunts my locker. He gets huffy with me if I try to get back at Dash. I was putting my annoyingness to full use on Dash when we first met and Sidney is paranoid I’ll do it again. According to him, I’m just as much of a bully as Dash if I do and he hates bullies.”

“Need me to take care of him?”

“Nah, we’ve got a truce. He’s not too bad. I just can’t pull anything on Dash without risking a lecture from him. And he’s still learning modern slang so a lecture from him is even worse than one of Lancer’s hip and funky fresh talks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you guys know why Nathan’s been giving me evil eyes?” Danny asked as the trio walked home.

“He’s got a crush on Valerie. He’s ticked you and her are dating,” Tucker explained.

“He came up to me the other day and tried to tell me I needed to, Get your cheating boyfriend away from my Valerie! It took me fifteen minutes to get him to back off and I think he still believes you’re two-timing Valerie and I,” Sam said.

“We’re dating? Sam, why didn't you tell me? I'd have put my book down.”

Sam shoved him towards his stoop. “I want to break up. It’s not me, it’s you.”

“Okay, but I get Tucker in the divorce.”

Tucker shook his head and linked arms with Sam. “Sorry, Danny, but you knew I was a gold digger going into this.”

Sam shoved him away as well. “You can have him.”

“Changed my mind, he’s yours now.”

“You’re both awful,” Tucker fake whined and marched off.

“See you tomorrow,” the two yelled at his retreating back.

Danny turned to Sam. “Are you going to head out for patrol or do you want a snack first?”

“Depends, what’s the likelihood your food’s contaminated?”

“My mom and dad are partway through a new invention.”

“Pass.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” he called as she went to the nearest alleyway.

“Ectoplasm’s not a veggie,” she called back.

“Okay, fair,” he snorted and opened the door. “I’m home. Anything happen while -”

Danny cut off as he saw his family in the living room surrounding a certain fruit loop.

“Ah, hello, Daniel!”

“You!” he shouted, tossing his bag aside and marching up to the group. “What are you doing here?”

Some of his anger lifted as he saw his mom accidentally poor tea right onto Vlad’s lap. “Totally valid question.”

“Still steaming?” Vlad asked in his creepy stalker voice.

“You have no idea,” she growled.

Vlad turned his attention to Danny. “I was just, you know, passing through. And then I saw that marvelous battlesuit and thought, since I can't just destroy Jack and take it, I suppose I'll steal its secrets right out from under his nose!”

Danny’s fists clenched as Vlad met his dad’s eyes with a smile and the two started laughing.

“Oh I swear, I am such a josher,” he held his cup up to Danny’s mom. “More tea please.”

She poured it on his head.

“Not there! Ooh!”

Danny’s mom stomped off and his dad followed.

“I don't know what you're up to, Plasmius,” Danny started in a whisper, then blinked. “Actually, I do. You just told me.”

“That’s right! And say a word and I'll share your secret with your little friend.”

Danny stared at him blankly. “What friend?”

“Miss Gray.”

“How do you even -”

Danny was cut off when an alarm sounded through the house. His dad ran back into the room and hit a hidden button to bring up a radar system.

“Galloping goblets, it's the Ecto-Exodus Alarm!”

“The Ecto-whaty-what?” Jazz and Danny asked.

“The Ecto-Exodus Alarm! An alarm that only goes off when we're about to face a massive ghost invasion!”

Danny faked reaching into his pocket so he could grab the Fenton Phones out of his Space Fold. “I need to make a call!”

He felt Vlad’s eyes on his back as he ran upstairs, but ignored them.

“Sam, Tucker, please tell me one of you can hear me?” he said into the phones and through their link as he shut his door.

“What’s wrong?” Sam said.

“Ghost invasion. Big one. Coming right at us,” Danny said and transformed. “We need to get back here right now.”

Danny’s ghost sense went off.

“Too late.”

Danny flew out of the house as ghosts came pouring out of the portal and onto the street. His eyes landed on Johnny and Kitty and he flew towards them.

“Hey Thirteen, what’s going on?” he asked as he came level with the bike.

“You mean you haven’t heard?” Kitty said, turning to him. “Pariah Dark’s back.”

“Who?”

“If you don’t know, we’re not going to tell you,” Johnny snorted.

“Come on. We’ve been letting you mostly run wild as long as you don’t hurt anyone or destroy anything. Can’t you just tell us?”

Johnny growled and stopped the bike. “Look, we don’t know too much. He’s way, way before our time. All we know is that he’s called the King of All Ghosts and someone woke him up. Now he’s trashing the zone and looking for some ring that will give him ultimate power or something when paired with his crown. He’s powerful so everyone’s getting while the gettin’s good. Speaking of which.”

Johnny took off, but Danny didn’t bother to chase him. Instead, he turned to Sam as she joined him.

“This is bad. No kidding.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucker flinched as his ghost sense went off for the fifteenth time. Where were all these ghosts coming from? He hoped he got into range of the mind link soon. Sam at least should be transformed so he should be getting close. Why did he have to choose today of all days to visit the gaming shop in Elmerton?

Someone blasted him and he groaned. He’d wanted to regroup with his partners before picking any fights. He turned to his opponent and groaned again. “What are you doing in town, fruit loop?”

“Haven’t we already been through this, Daniel?” Vlad asked flying closer and Tucker rolled his eyes.

So Danny or Sam have talked to him then. He hoped they were okay. “Refresh our memory.” Goosebumps swept over him and he gestured towards the ghost. “Are you the reason all these ghosts are around?”

“I’m flattered you think I could organize all this.”

“You’re right. We forgot you put everything into intelligence and strength. No way you could convince all these ghosts to listen with your charisma being a dump stat,” Tucker said, nodding. “Our bad.”

Vlad looked confused for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not here to play games, Daniel.”

“Then you’ve got the wrong half-ghost.” If he didn’t want jokes, he should have gone with Sam.

Vlad scowled at him, then he was being grabbed from behind. He looked up to see another Vlad holding him. The older halfa pinned one of his arms behind his back and held the other out to the first Vlad.

“Let go of us, creep!”

“Calm down, Daniel. I’m not going to hurt you,” Vlad one said, flying closer and grabbing his wrist. “I simply need you to hold onto something for me.”

“And why would we ever help you?”

Vlad one disconnected his glove from the hazmat and pulled it off, revealing green skin and black nails.

Wow, Sam would like those.

“Because this is a powerful relic,” Vlad two explained as Vlad one slipped a green and black ring onto Tucker’s middle finger. “One which I’m sure you’d want to keep safe and out of the hands of dangerous ghosts.”

“Like you?”

Vlad one smirked and replaced his glove.

“If it’s so powerful, why would you give it up?” Tucker asked as the Vlads let him go and merged together.

“That is for you to discover on your own. Ta!” He teleported away.

“We need to get a restraining order or something,” Tucker muttered, rubbing his shoulder. He glanced down at his hand uncertainly. Vlad could certainly have been lying, but if he wasn’t, Tucker couldn’t just toss the ring and risk it ending up in the wrong hands.

With a sigh, he continued on his way. The trio could figure this out together. Thankfully he only had to fly for a few minutes before his mind connected to Sam and Danny.

#danny phantom #valerie gray #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #Doppelgänger au

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//chocolate mornings. akaashi keiji//

Warnings: Your heart may explode from too much fluff

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: Part 2 because my Wattpad readers were on the verge of murdering me! I would d i e for this family dynamic~ 

(Single Parent!Doctor!Akaashi x Reader)

*Part 2 of Chocolate Impressions.  Read Part 1 HERE*

It was a picture perfect scene: a slumbering home, the only source of light coming from the moon as its rays filtered in through the windows.  Katashi was fast asleep in his bed, a stuffed owl held tightly in his arms, tucked in beneath a thick layer of blankets, the love of a father’s kiss still lingering on his forehead.  You had been pulled into Akaashi’s chest the minute the two of you had sank into the soft embrace of his mattress.  Soft words were shared about each other’s day, plans for tomorrow, plans for the distant future.  Short, breathy laughs in an attempt to stay quiet for Katashi’s sake were the only response to small quips and silly stories.  Warm kisses and cool wandering touches were soon replaced by quiet “I love you”s and the small sounds of Akaashi’s little snores against your skin.  Wrapped in his warm embrace, a final kiss was placed against his skin before allowing yourself to fall victim to sleep’s grasp.  

The all too familiar tune singing loudly from Akaashi’s bedside table was the sour note that ended it all.  You jolted up, obviously more distraught by the sudden noise than your boyfriend was as he simply buried his head under his pillow with a quiet “No.”

“Keiji, your phone,” you mutter, shaking his shoulder, trying to keep him from falling back asleep.

“I don’t care.”

You reach over him to grab his phone from the table to check the caller ID.  Exactly who you expected.  “It’s the hospital.”

“I don’t care.”

“Keiji, come on.”  You pull the pillow away from him and a heavy groan is the only response as he takes the phone from your hand.

“I’m not on call,” he states plainly, avoiding any sort of pleasantries. You can hear the person on the other end of the line talking rapidly, multiple apologies being uttered in quick succession, and Akaashi can only sigh as he sits up and swings his legs off the edge of the bed.  “What’s the point in telling me that I’m off if you’re just going to wake me up anyway?  Where’s Ohashi?  Or Ichirou?”  He runs his hand through his bedridden curls and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “I have my son this week.  You know that. . . What?  It’s two in the morning.  I am not waking him up to drag him to a hospital for who knows how many hours. . . No.  No. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”  Akaashi slowly gets up from the bed, stumbling slightly as the fatigue hasn’t quite left his body yet.  “Yes.  I’m coming.  I’ll be there soon.”  He ends the call and tosses his phone on the bed, his form radiating pure annoyance.  “Absolutely ridiculous,” he grumbles, shoving his feet into a pair of slippers to save himself from the chilly hardwood floor.  “I guess I need to call Akiyo and see if she can take care of Katashi until I’m done.”

“Why?  It’s not like you’re going to be leaving him alone.”

“Are you sure?  You don’t have to do this.”

You laugh a little, getting up on your knees to wrap your arms around his neck.  “But, I want to.”

He nuzzled his face in your neck, letting his black curls tickle your skin.  “You’re going to be such a good step-mom to him someday.”

“I hope so.  But, come on.  You need to get ready.  You have lives to save.”  He offers a quiet whine as you pull away from him in order to put on your own slippers.  “I’ll get your clothes and get some coffee going, okay?”

Akaashi nods, slumping off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and attempt to wake himself up with a quick cold shower.  You padded softly towards the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before going to the laundry room to grab a fresh pair of scrubs from the dryer.  Back in the bedroom, you rummaged through his drawers to find him clean boxers and a pair of socks.

A swift knock to the bathroom door is all it takes for Akaashi to pull the door open.  He’s holding a towel around his waist as his other hand vigorously tries to towel dry his hair.  A soft grin takes over his features as you set his clothes down on the counter.  “Thank you, princess,” he says, placing a short kiss on your cheek.

“You’re welcome, Keij.  Coffee should be done in a few minutes.  Do you want to eat anything before you go?”

“Uh . . . Can you throw a granola bar or something in my bag?  I don’t know if I have time to stay and eat.”

You nod and leave him to get dressed in order to go pack his work bag with snacks for his drive.  You add a few granola bars and a package of fruit snacks to a Ziploc bag, rummaging through the drawers to find the sticky notes.  Snacks for my snacc lol love you - Y/N.  You put the sticky note in the bag to make sure it didn’t get lost before placing his snacks in his work bag. 

You had just gotten his thermos out of the cabinet as Akaashi came sliding into the kitchen, sock-clad feet propelling him across the tiles.  Arms immediately wrap around your waist and a happy hum filters into your ear.  “I don’t think you’ve ever been this happy to go in to work. What's wrong with you?” you laugh, reaching up to play with his hair.

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?” You ask, filling the thermos with the freshly brewed coffee, adding a spoon and half of sugar, just how he likes it.  

“About how much I like this.  Waking up with you.  Getting ready with you.  I’d be okay with always going in in the middle of the night if it meant more of this.”  He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, never wanting this moment to end.

“I think the lack of sleep is making you delirious.  You hate having to go in.”  You turn around in his embrace.  “But, I like this too.”  You place a soft kiss on his lips, eagerly returned by your boyfriend.  Pulling away, you place a hand on his chest.  “You really do need to go though, Keiji.”

“Yeah, I know.”  He begrudgingly lets you go so he can go put his shoes on.  You follow him to the door, his coffee and bag in your hands, his coat draped over your arm.  He stands up, taking his things from you and grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door.  “I should be back by the time you and Katashi wake up.  I’ll see you soon,” Akaashi says, a quick kiss to your forehead before he rushes out the door.  

You turn to go back to bed after watching him back out of the driveway, flipping off any lights that were left on during the franticness of this early morning.  Between the thick blankets and what little warmth remained on Akaashi’s side of the bed, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to start to weigh your eyelids down.  

Fresh sunlight and the sounds of something clattering to the ground brought you quickly from your deep slumber.  A sigh left your lips as your eyes fell to the empty spot on the bed next to you, sheets still crumpled from his early start.  You get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen only to stop completely in your tracks to fully take in the scene in front of you.

Katashi was perched on top of one of the dining room chairs so he could get a better look into the kitchen cabinets.  A frying pan had been tossed to the ground, likely the source of noise that had yanked you from sleep’s loving embrace.  “Katashi, what are you doing?” You ask slowly.

“Making pancakes,” he stated plainly as if the answer should’ve been obvious to you.

“Why?”

“Because Dad and I always have pancakes for breakfast.  But, he’s at work, so I was going to make them so they’d be ready when he got back.”  Katashi jumped down from the chair, the box of pancake mix in his hands.  

You pick up the pan and bowl from the floor, setting them on the counter before taking the mix and putting it back in the cabinet.  Taking in his defeated expression, you give him a warm smile.  “Why don’t we make your dad some special pancakes?”

“Special pancakes?”

“Yeah.  Like, not from a box.  We’ll make them from scratch.”

“We can do that?”

“Yes,” you laugh, grabbing the needed ingredients.  “Do you like chocolate chips in yours?”

“Yeah, but Dad doesn’t.”

“I forgot he was weird and didn’t like chocolate chip pancakes.”  You scrunch up your features, making Katashi laugh.  “Okay, I need a scoop and a half of flour,” you say, handing the boy the measuring cup before busying yourself with measuring out the other dry ingredients.  

Katashi dumps a heaping scoop in the bowl, creating puffs of flour, dusting his dark hair.  He giggles happily, staring at you with those same sleepy eyes that his father had.  You never took the time to really look at his son, a near perfect carbon copy of the man that you’d fallen in love with.  It almost looked like someone had plucked Akaashi from his baby photos and stuck him in front of you.  “Why are you staring at me?”

“You just look so much like your dad,” you sigh, turning back to finish adding ingredients to the batter.

“That’s what Gran says too.”  Katashi slides the bowl over to himself, taking the spoon and stirring everything together.  “She’s always showing me pictures of Dad when he was my age.  It’s so boring,” he whined.

“It does get a little old, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve seen them too?”

“So many times,” you laugh.  “The first time I ever met your gran, I thought we were going to be there all night.  She just kept pulling out photo album after photo album.  I didn’t think she was ever going to stop.”

“What’d you do?”

“Your dad was super embarrassed and wanted it to end just as much as I did.  I think he made some excuse about having work the next day when we all knew he didn’t.”

Katashi laughs, leaning into your side as you separate some batter out for Akaashi’s boring pancakes.  Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his arms wrap around your waist.  Your hand goes down to run your fingers through his curls, a small smile finding its home on your lips.  Any reservations you previously had about your relationship with Katashi and your role in his future were quickly erased.  It already felt like you had been a part of his life for years and you couldn’t have wished for a better start.  “Hey, hold out your hand,” you say, poking his cheek softly.

“What?  Why?”  He asks, looking up at you.

“Just do it.”

Katashi cautiously holds out the hand that wasn’t hugging your waist out towards you, bouncing in excitement as you shake some chocolate chips into his hand.  “Dad never lets me do this!”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”  You wink down at his smiling face and pop a few of the chocolate pieces in your own mouth, dumping what’s left in the batter.  

The sound of a car engine whirring and cutting out is the interruption to the perfect morning.  A loud beep as a door is locked has Katashi ripping away from you to greet his father at the door.  A tired smile complimented even more exhausted eyes as Akaashi knelt down to embrace his son.  “What smells so good?” You hear Akaashi ask as he stands up.

“Mom and I made pancakes!” Katashi exclaims, grabbing his dad’s hands and dragging him towards the kitchen.

“Mom?  Why is your mom here?”  Keiji stumbles into the kitchen behind his son, fully expecting to see his ex-wife sitting at the dining table with the glare that she always greeted him with nestled on her face.  But instead, he was greeted with your sleepy features as you set the table, divvying up steaming pancakes between the plates.  You had flour dusting the front of your t-shirt, a smile causing your eyes to crinkle when you looked up and saw him in the doorway.  His confusion settled into a softer expression as he stared at the perfect morning unfolding in front of him.  Absolutely beautiful.

“Huh?”  Katashi asks, looking up at Akaashi.  “Oh.  Sorry, I meant Y/N.”  The boy just shrugged, letting go of Akaashi and sitting down in front of one of the plates, digging into the pile of pancakes that you had placed onto his plate.

Akaashi set his things down and let you wrap your arms around him.  A short peck on the lips and sleepy smiles were exchanged.  “How was everything?” You ask, running a gentle thumb over the small purple bruises on his cheeks, a side effect of the long hours of his surgical mask digging into his face.

“Six hours in the OR for an emergency CABG," he sighed, his hands trailing along your sides. 

"Six hours? Isn't that a little long?"

"Yeah.  It was a pretty nasty blockage, but it's bypassed and he should be back on his feet in a few days."

"And that's why you're the best," you say, a soft smile giving him any reassurance he could've possibly needed. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving. My 'snacks for my snacc' wore off quite a while ago," he teased, poking your sides, making you blush as you squirm away from him. He laughed, letting you pull him over to the table to join Katashi for pancakes.  "Alright, Katashi. Who's pancakes are better? Mine," Akaashi pauses, giving his son an exaggerated nod. "Or Y/N's?" He shakes his head, making a disgusted face which is quickly replaced by a look of hurt as you smack his thigh.

Katashi giggles, shoving the last bit of pancake in his mouth.  "Y/N's, for sure.  She should come over every time I'm here!" He finished his glass of orange juice and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt.  "May I be excused?" 

"Depends. How do you spell 'because?'" Akaashi asks, not looking up from his plate.

Katashi groaned, slinking down in his chair. "That's not fair.  You know I'm not good at that one! Pick something else!"

"Okay. Spell 'choledocholithiasis.'" Akaashi smirks, now looking at the shock on his son's face.  "What? You wanted a different word!"

"Something I would know!"

"Your options are 'because' or 'choledocholithiasis.' I know what I'd pick," Akaashi shrugs, take a bite of his pancakes. 

"Okay, Doc, we get it. You know how to spell coal-docter-antithesis," you say, rolling your eyes, Katashi laughing as you poke fun at his father.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Y/N.  Katashi, how about 'today?'"

"Ooh! I know that one! T-o-d-a-y!"

"Very good. You're excused."

"Yes!" Katashi jumps up from his seat, setting his plate in the sink. "Thank you for breakfast!" He gave you and Akaashi quick hugs before running off to his room.

"You make him spell to leave the table?"

Akaashi shrugs. "Not always. Sometimes he has to do an easy math problem.  It may seem a little . . . Much, but it helps him retain what he learns." 

"Well, I think it's nice that you care so much about his school work," you say, rubbing his shoulder as you sit back in your chair.

"Thank you." He smiled, reaching for your hand.  

His thumb runs over your knuckles, a shaky inhale catching your attention. "You tired?"

"Yeah. It's been a long morning,” he sighs, running his free hand through his messy hair.

"Go back to bed, Keiji.  You need some rest."

He nodded, stifling a yawn, but rather than getting up to heed your advice, Akaashi takes a deep breath, turning in his seat to face you. "But, not right now.  I want to talk to you about something."

Akaashi watches as your eyes widen slightly, feeling your hand start to shake a little as you’re suddenly caught off guard.  "Is this about Katashi liking my pancakes better? He just wanted-" The sound of his laughter cuts you off.

"No. This isn't about that.”  He takes a moment in an attempt to compose himself, a few stray chuckles escaping as he tries to continue. “I was thinking about this morning.  The whole time I was at work, it was all I could think about.  Well, not all I could think about, but you know what I mean. I just- maybe it's silly, but I genuinely enjoy having you there with me every time I get called in.  Before, I always had to do it all by myself, which is fine, of course. I don't expect you to get up and help me, but you do, and I want more of that and I want more of this,” he says, giving your hand a light squeeze.  “Seeing you this morning, I realized just how happy I am when you're here. And Katashi, he really likes you.  I don't know if you heard, but he called you 'mom' earlier and-" Akaashi pauses, the wide smile on his face saying everything for him. He was completely exhausted, the lack of sleep tearing down his normal quiet demeanor, letting all of his emotions flow from his mouth like a waterfall.  

"I love you and I don't think I could ever say it enough for you to know just how much I do." He stopped again, patting his pockets with his hands. "Hang on." He gets up and starts rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers.  "I know I put it in here somewhere. . . When did I buy this?" He pauses, holding up a small little kitchen timer that looked like a penguin.  He just shrugs, setting it down next to the stove.  “Did I really put it all the way back there?”  He grumbles, leaning over to get a better look into the back of the drawer.  “Oh, wait.  There it is!  Come here,” he says, taking something and hiding it in his hand.  He's practically bouncing like a little kid on a sugar high as he pulls you to stand with him in the middle of the kitchen floor.  "This isn't exactly how I planned on doing this and I get the middle of my kitchen isn't the most romantic place, but-" Akaashi’s quick words are cut off by your lips pressed against his, hands holding his face, the feeling of your body melding perfectly against his.  

"Keiji, it's okay," you whisper, a calm smile soothing his nerves.

"Thank you," he whispers; a second kiss, shorter, less intimate than the first, but still carrying the same amount of complete adoration for you.  Akaashi breaks away, kneeling down in front of you.  He holds a delicate ring in one hand, your hand with the other.  "I know this is probably not how you imagined this moment.  Honestly, it's not how I imagined it either, but," Akaashi takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes, the dark circles from lack of sleep more pronounced in the poor lighting.  "I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up with you, even if it is at stupid hours in the morning.  I want to come home to you making pancakes with our son. I want to talk about you to the others in the OR, but not just as my girlfriend, as my wife.  So, what I'm trying to say is that I love you and I love that in such a small amount of time, you've made my family become our family." He smiles, his sleepy eyes filled with nothing but love for you and everything the two of you had built together.

 "Will you marry me?"

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi #akaashi x reader #keiji #fukurodani #setter #fluff #imagine #x reader