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#I’ll add ids later I’m going to bed
samaspic31 · 1 year
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This is why we’ve been telling people not to stan staff and this website, Just because they’ve gotten better at making the same jokes as the users doesn’t make it « one of us ». Tumblr is a corporation, an exploitative one. @staff pls have a crumb of respect for artists and do not expect free labor, custom art AND all exploitation rights for MERCH. Exposure does not pay bills. This is extremely insulting.
@libbyframe i am so sorry they would even disrespect your time and your craft like that.
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sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months
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✧ 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲 || flowers au ♔
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summary: violet meets connor when she’s running late to adam’s draft day
warnings: scissors, running late
notes: part of the 'flowers' au. a little chaotic meeting between v and con but that's going to be so expected later on in the series (also i'm sorry i didn't get this out yesterday, but the next part of this will also be out later today along with right where you left me) add yourself to the taglist ➵ taglist!
au masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist
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“Hurry up!”
“I’m sorry I know I’m late, just leave without me, I can drive there, I promise.”
“What are you even doing?” Luca came into his sister’s room to see craft supplies all over her room, flung from her suitcase. Her cutting board was on the ground, she had pens all over her desk, flower stems surrounding her, and her scissors were so close to stabbing her as they laid on the wooden surface. 
When Luca noticed the scissors, he quickly ran over and grabbed them to keep from stabbing the girl, not like it would’ve done that much damage in Violet’s mind. “I’m making Adam’s present.”
“V, I’m sure he’s not going to care if he gets his bouquet now or later.” Luca sits on her bed fiddling with the sheets. 
“He might not care, but I do. And somehow I’m missing a flower, I have to go and get another iris. Just go without me, I’ll be there.”
Luca didn’t look all too happy with the fact that his sister would be driving by herself despite the fact that she had her license. He went to offer to stay with her but she shut him down with a look, “No. Go.”
The boy sighed and walked out of her room, getting in the car with his brother and parents. Violet sighed to herself as she fumbled around her room for her flower cutters, packing up everything she needed. She threw her dress on, making sure her hair and makeup looked decent enough to go out in before driving to the nearest flower shop.
She had driven to Nashville because she needed the road trip and both Luca and Adam had come along. If there was one thing she loved, it was road trips but road trips with someone else were always better than by herself. 
After buying the last small bouquet of blood-red iris’ the store had she rushed to her car and began finishing the bouquet. When she finished she grinned to herself feeling accomplished, until she looked at the time. She lightly placed the bouquet down alongside the present that she got from Adam in the passenger seat before driving to the venue, humming along to whatever was on the radio. 
She flew into a parking stall and all but ran into the venue, smiling and waving at the people she passed. When she entered she felt safer, and when she showed her ID she was allowed in and went to find Adam and the rest of her family. 
She was texting her mom when she ran into someone, apologies coming out of her mouth, one after another, “I am so sorry! Totally my fault! I’m sorry, so sorry.”
The boy she ran into had stumbled a bit but didn’t look too bothered, “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure because I was not looking where I was going.” Violet looked around, “I actually have no clue where I am right now.”
When Violet looked at the boy, her brows furrowed, “You look familiar.” 
He reached out his hand for her to shake, “I’m Connor.”
“Oh, you’re the one who’s in line to get drafted to the Hawks. I’m Y/n, but you can call me Violet. I’m Adam Fantilli’s sister.”
“Oh, Adam! Yeah, I met him a little bit ago.” Connor smiled at Violet, “Do you need some help? You look lost, and you just said you were.”
Connor reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck, looking awkward. Violet held a big grin, “I would love it. I’m just trying to find my family.”
Connor gestured to the way he was walking, “I’ll take you to where we’re sitting.”
They didn’t get far when they saw two figures running toward the two, “Violet!”
Violet waved, “Hey guys.”
Connor looked saddened at the fact the conversation was ending, “Connor was helping me find you guys.”
Adam looked at him, “Thanks, man.”
The boy nodded, “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later then?” Violet nodded and so did Adam before Connor walked off. 
“Oh, here Adam.” Violet gave Adam both the bouquet and the present she had gotten him, “Thanks, V.”
Adam hugged his younger sister, kissing her on the head. He then brought Luca into the hug and sighed, “Thank you guys for being here.”
“Of course.”
✧༺✎༻∞
When they announced Connor’s name, Violet did more than politely clap. Her clap was louder than her brothers which caused some looks but they didn’t pay much mind to the girl. They just thought she was anxiously waiting for Adam to get drafted.
She had to sit on her hands as they called out Leo’s name who got drafted to the Ducks. She let her face slip briefly before her usual grin was back on her face. When the Blue Jackets had their pick in, she reached over to hold each of her brothers’ hands, nervous, “...we are proud to select, Adam Fantilli.”
Adam was the first to stand, followed by everyone else. Violet let Adam hug their parents and Luca first before she hugged him, “I’m really proud of you, Adam.”
“Thanks, V.”
He handed her his jacket before walking down the steps and to the stage. The four others stood with smiles on their face, all of them had tears in their eyes for various reasons but most of them because of how proud they were of the boy. 
Violet wandered off not long after that in hopes she would run into Connor again, and to her luck, she did. Much like the first time, she ran directly into it, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”
“I don’t know, I kind of like when you catch me from falling,” Violet smirked causing Connor to blush. 
“Trying to find Adam again?” 
She shook her head, “No. You actually.”
“Oh?”
“I was hoping to get your number.”
That was all it took for Connor to reach into his pocket and grab his phone, handing it to the girl. She handed him her phone, and the two exchanged their numbers and socials as well. And ever since then, they talked every day, finding out random facts about each other and their plans for the summer.
✧༺✎༻∞
violetsdiaries
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liked by adamfantilli, luca.fantill, _connorbedard and 373,286 more
violetsdiaries happy draft day everyone! congratualations to everyone who was drafted today.
more importantly (for me), congratulations to one of my best friends in the whole entire world and one of my favorite brothers, adam! i'm so so so proud of you and all of you have accomplished and i can't wait to see you in the big leagues
tagged adamfantilli, bluejacketsnhl, nhl
view 4898 comments
adamfantilli i love you little sis
liked by violetsdiaries
luca.fantilli stud alert 🚨🚨
⤷ violets diaries who me? i know, thank you
⤷ luca.fantilli you wish violet
user01 mother is proud everyone
user02 their relationship is one of the best things ever
user03 she finds a way to make everything and every scenario aesthetic, i desire to be like her
user04 i have a feeling she's going to be an amazing nhl wag one day
⤷ user05 she deserves someone great
lhughes_06 congratulations man! v looking good as always
⤷ adamfantilli thanks, luke! also don't hit on my sister, that's weird
⤷ violetsdiaries he was just being nice (thank you lu) also i like someone else 🤭
⤷ adamfantilli who?
⤷ luca.fantilli who?
⤷ markestapa who?
⤷ edwards.73 who?
⤷ lhughes_06 who
⤷ violetsdiaries no one you need to know about... yet
✧༺✎༻∞
messyviolets
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liked by _connorbedard, adam fantilli, jackhughes, and 81,358 more
messyviolets i didn't want to ge this sentimental on main so here this is
adam, i am extrememly proud of you, there aren't anywords to describe how proud i am of you. thank you for everything you have done for me and i can't express how grateful i am for you. i can't believe you're going to be playing professional hockey so soon and it feels like just yesterday i was sitting with mom cheering you on during peewee hockey (although i don't really remember it that much bc i was like 4) moving on, i know you are going to do so many amazing things and i'm going to miss you so much.
love you big bro 🫶🏻
view 1875 comments
user06 she is so adorable, i'm going to cry 🥹
adamfantilli don't make me cry, i love you too, v. i'm going to miss you too 🥲
⤷ luca.fantilli she would've been closer if she went umich with me
⤷ messyviolets i'm sorry who was the one that said 'you can go wherever you want, we won't be mad'.
⤷ luca.fantilli i didn't think you'd actually do it :/ you're leaving me with mark
⤷ markestapa what did i do?
⤷ rutgermcgroaty hah! get burned mark
⤷ edwards.73 how does it feel to be the least favorite, mark
⤷ nick_moldenhauer that's gotta suck marky
⤷ messyviolets can you guys all get out of my comment section (also i love you mark, it's okay)
user07 why is the umich hockey team here??
⤷ user08 because violet's friends with them
⤷ markestapa because we can be
_connorbedard hey, i found you 🙂
⤷ messyviolets hey, you found me 🙂
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𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you
@ivy-34 | @itsnotgray | @daisysnhl
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seriesxwriting · 1 year
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Hi darling!
I absolutely love your writing and I actually have a request. Although if you’re not comfortable writing it that’s totally okay, because it’s a bit of a difficult subject
Could I request an rafe x plus-size reader where she’s struggling with her weight, and one day he comes by un announced and he finds her throwing up in the bathroom? Like he tries to comfort her but she’s pushing him away but in the end she lets him and she breaks down in his arms?
I’ve been really struggling myself lately, and I can’t ask for help or for someone to comfort me because no one knows about it so I guess reading about being comforted is the next best thing lol.
Again if you’re not comfortable writing this that’s totally okay <33
Thank you so much lovely! I’m glad you’re enjoying my writing!! I’m sorry that your going through that just remember your more than a number and we’re all beautiful it our own ways, please don’t hurt yourself <33
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I’d do anything for you
W Rafe Cameron
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Warnings- main character is struggling with weight, forcefully throwing up. Kissing, probably swearing somewhere you know what I’m like.
Series- outer banks
Summary- request <3
(I will proof read this later)
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“Good morning, beautiful” Rafe whispered with a smile “too early shush” I shook my head pulling the covers over my face to hide the sunlight. “It’s almost ten” he laughed pulling them back off me. “That’s early” I whined finally giving into the sunlight. And Rafe. “I was sleeping in fact I was actually dreaming very peacefully may I add” “I’m sorry, I missed you” he grinned cheekily, leaning over the top of me, lowering his head for a kiss.
“Your lucky your cute or id be angry” my hand came up to holding the back of his head as our lips met for a few seconds. “Your so funny in the mornings” “im glad one of us is having fun” I sat up rubbing my eyes “but if this happens again I’ll have to ban you from sleeping over”. Rafe laughed shaking his head “so dramatic” “you love it” “I do” he said quickly following my reply.
“Your forgiven, I guess I do like waking up to you- which I won’t be able to do if you go on that business trip” I looked at him pouting “I have to go” Rafe smiled pulling me under his arm keeping me close. “But I’ll miss you” he kissed the top of my head gently. “Yeah me too” “don’t be sad love I’ve promised you that I’ll spend the whole day with you” Rafe reminded me, but I was still sad.
I hated when he left on his business trips. They always stressed Rafe out as well but he was adamant he had to prove himself. “And I’ll come see you the day I get back like I always do” “good” I kissed his hand smiling up at him. “So what do you want to do on my last day in the outer banks?” He raised an eyebrow squeezing me. “Um” I thought for a moment pretending to stroke an imaginary beard. “We could go to the beach” rafe suggested with a little twinkle. “No” I shook my head seriously.
“why do you hate the beach so much” Rafe questioned stroking my arm up and down. “I- I don’t I just don’t want to go” “is there a reason” he wondered out loud. “No” I replied bluntly hiding the real reason. “Okay love, but you know you can talk to me about anything Rafe kissed the top of my head supportively. “Can we just stay in? Watch some movies?” I questioned looking up at him. “Yeah sounds good Oo- we can order Chinese too I haven’t had one in donkeys” Rafe smirked wiggling his eyebrow. “Uh- yeah sure alright”.
So me and Rafe did exactly that, we stayed in my bed all day cuddling and watching what ever Netflix had to offer. We ordered our take away at around fiveish but when the sun disappeared and the birds went in for the night rafe got ready to leave me. For two weeks. He began packing his bag which I had to then take out and fold everything he’d scrunched in there.
“What would I do without you?” Rafe smiled across at me, watching me zip it up. “You’d wear creased clothes” I shrugged hiding a cheeky smirk on my face. A laugh tumbled out of the boys mouth. “The question is- what am I going to do without you” I asked him passing the bag into his hands. “I’ll face time you” “I know, just take it easy rafe don’t let it all stress you out you e proved yourself multiple times”
“It’s not about that y/n- not anymore” Rafe shook his head. “When my dad passes down his company to me, I need to keep it successful so I can provide for you and whatever family we have in the future”. My heart skipped a beat. I loved hearing Rafe talk about our future, it made me feel so excited. “I’ll never understand how I got so lucky with you rafe Cameron”. We both traveled downstairs hand in hand stoping at the front door. Rafe stepped out onto the doorstep before looking at me once more time.
“I’ll see you soon beautiful” Rafe leant down to kiss my lips softly and leant his his forehead against mine. “I love you” I made known quietly “I love you too y/n” he admitted tucking my soft hair behind my ear before treading down my stone steps towards his car. I waited there, leaning against the door watching Rafe with a little but noticeable smile on my lips until he drove out of sight. He was perfect. Just perfect. And I missed him already.
-next morning-
*knock knock*
“Rafe!? Y/n told me you had left for your trip by now?” My mother opened the door to the boy with a surprised look painted on her face. “Yeah I was supposed to be, it was cancelled though- thought I’d tell y/n in person” Rafe couldn’t hide the excitement on his face. It shows even in his body language.
“Awe she’ll be so happy- non stop she’s been telling me her plans to busy herself for two weeks” y/m/n laughed opening the door widely to let Rafe into the house. “Where is she?” “Uh- she hasn’t come down this morning- must be still sleeping” mother laughed shutting the door behind the boy. “Wouldn’t surprise me” Rafe started “She’s not a morning person” they both said at the same time laughing at the coincidence.
“I’ll go wake her up, thanks y/m/n” Rafe waved as he climbed the stairs, winding through the corridors to my bedroom. He opened the shut door to see the covers bunched up at the bottom of my bed. The boys ears twitched hearing a strange sound from the on-sweet, the door was slightly open. His eyes crossed trying to sus it out as his forhead wrinkled.
Rafe made his way over pushing the door open fully seeing me kneeling on the floor over the toilet with my fingers in my mouth throwing up my insides into the toilet bowl. “Y/n? What are you doing?” “Rafe- what are you doing here go away!” my eyes grew wide as tears started to come through. “Why are you doing that?” His face dropped in sadness and in complete shock.
“Just go away Rafe!” I raised my voice slightly but he didn’t listen. He walked over to me closing the lid of the toilet and sinking to his knees trying to embrace me. “Stop it! Just stop it” I shook my head pushing his hands away from me. The first tear dropped out my eye in that moment. “No y/n, I’m not going anywhere” he grabbed my hand that was pushing him and held it. “Why aren’t you listening to me- Just go away Rafe i don’t deserve you” I cried giving into him anyway.
I didn’t really want him to leave me. Secretly. His arms wrapped round me and one of his hands held my head against his chest. He didn’t say anything for a while, until my cry turned into a little sob. “Why are you doing that- why didn’t you tell me you were doing that?” He questioned keeping me close, Rafe’s voice sounded shaky. “Don’t pretend you don’t know why I’m doing it” “I don’t?” Rafe replied sounding genuine.
“Look at me Rafe!” I pulled away to look into his face. “Y/n i can never stop looking at you” he shook his head, his eyes and face were soft. “Your beautiful” “stop it stop lying to me” “why would I lie to you?” He queried making me laugh. It was the only way I could cope with the awkwardness of the situation. “Stop laughing this is serious” Rafe warned me. “Look at you rafe and then look at your girlfriend”
“I don’t know why you think I see you as anything other than beautiful- I’m in love with you y/n” he held my face with his hand. “Why don’t you see what I see?” Rafe questioned quietly “I don’t know Rafe- I wish I did but I don’t” my shoulders shrugged once heavily. Rafe pulled me into his arms again “tell me something” rafe whispered in my ear “What do I say to you every morning”.
I thought for a second thinking back to our mornings. “Good morning beautiful” i said in a small voice “and what about when I leave you? What do I say every time” Rafe squeezed me gently “I’ll see you soon beautiful” I answered with an eyebrow raise as realisation bagan to sink in. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you y/n I love you the way you are, your beautiful the exact way you are”
“I understand you think that Rafe but I don’t see that- I feel insecure I don’t feel happy within myself” “y/n I will help you through this I will support you through this but doing that isn’t the way” he shook his head gently stroking my hair. I looked at the floor knowing deep down he was right. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, ever” Rafe admitted throwing me a sad look. I’d never seen that look on him. “Please just promise me you’ll talk to me instead of doing this again- it’s so pernicious y/n”
“Okay- I’ll talk to next time I feel like doing it” I nodded but then my face scrunched up and I looked at him confused. “Wait- your not breaking up with me?” “What? No of course why would you think that” rafe desperately replied with a wrinkled forhead. I didn’t have a good answer for that so I just shrugged my shoulders. Rafe stood up holding his hand out, helping me stand up. Wrapping an arm over my shoulder he brought me in front of a mirror.
“I love you y/n, i see my future in you- I see my future, wife the future mother of my children and my beautiful girlfriend” he said to me through the mirror making me smile widely leaning my head against his shoulder. “You see all of that?” I looked up at him “even when you cry your beautiful” rafe whispered wiping the tears off my wet cheeks. “And I’ll keep telling you that until you believe me” “thank you Rafe” i faintly spoke.
He kiss my forehead squeezing his eyes shut. “No need to thank me beautiful, I’d do anything for you”.
—————————————
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fr3akingtf0utrn · 10 months
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hey! could i req a peter quill x male reader smut with sub bottom peter? the plot (if you choose to add one) doesnt matter much, but id like a lot of begging/whimpering on peters part! and some reader praising peter:)
YES. And it took me a hella long time to think of a plot but gave up and went for it. And sorry I’m going to make this short but wit some detail.
Peter Quill x Male reader
Warnings: nsfw, bottom/sub Peter, dom/top reader
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“Such a good boy, Peter..” you mumbled under your breath. Your eyes fluttered closed and let your head go down limp at the pleasure this man caused you.
The overwhelming sensation of heat between your guys’ close distant caused sweat to drip. Peter whined at one particularly hard thrust. You hips met his ass and thighs, holding him in a tight missionary position.
Peters knees nearly met his shoulders and his own face as you fucked him into the mattress. The only way he was holding it was your arms holding his legs back behind his knees giving you great access as you continued to push into him deep and fast
You know he can take it. You know how much he loved the burn.
His nails dug into your shoulder blades as yours gripped the mattress sheets. Your hamstrings burned but you kept going and going closer to the edge snapping your hips harder.
Peters groaned when your abdomen made contact with his tip and moved one of his hands to the back of your neck to pull you in.
Your lips clashed as you let his desperate neediness kick in. You let go after a moment, saliva disconnecting from your lips.
“mmm you like that don’t you, darling? How deep I’m getting from this position?” He whined into your mouth as you said that.
“I need an answer, Peter.” You state as your hips stutter to a stop, your knees dig into the mattress.
“Fuck, fuck please. I can’t. !” Peter cried out and clawed at your back. “Yes you can, say it and I’ll reward you,..” you rock back and then forth, slowly pushing in, getting deep enough to touch that bundle of nerves inside him. His legs shook.
“Yes! I love it so much! Please, y/n..” his back arched, contorting his body as well. You sit up setting his legs on your shoulders. Your hands grip into his waist and you growl.
“There you go, good boy.” Your thrusting continued at a fast past, his body slamming into yours, clapping sounds heard throughout the room.
Peter let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back. A breathy gasp escaped him as his body arched and shook, shooting all over your chest and himself. You continued chasing your orgasm as well and slammed into him.
“Fuck is’ too much, y/n-“
“You can take it—I know you can. You’re doing so good me, sugar,” You praised him between a staggered breath. You lick you top teeth and throw your head back, your eyebrows furrowing and your jaw went slack.
Your hips quicken and soon release with a guttural moan. The grip of your hands on his thighs soften but leave marks when you let go of them.
“fuck, such a good boy, you did so well..” you lean to him after slowly placing his legs down into the bed. “So, so, good,” you mumbled into his ear as you caressed his face and kissed his cheek.
Peters breathes evened out as you whispered sweet praises and hummed as replies.
You slowly get up to walk to the bathroom gathering a wet towel and water. Placing the water down on the bedside, you clean Peter up.
Wiping down his stained skin and drying the sweat off his face, along with yourself later on.
You place a pillow behind Peters hips to make him propped up so his lower back doesn’t ache when he lays curled into your side.
Laying your arm on his waist, you connect your forehead with his, closing your eyes. “I love you my starlord.”
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cuinaminute229 · 2 years
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A moment more
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pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader
....
A soft tune from the phone sitting on the night stand stirred Wanda from what had been a peaceful sleep. She blinks against the darkness of the room, trying to register the sound coming from nearby.
After a breath or two and a glance at where the only light in the room was coming from, she finally realizes that her phone is ringing.
Carefully, as not to disturb you, she withdraws a warm arm from its hold on her waist and reaches over to grab the facedown phone to peek at the screen. She squints at the bright screen as the caller ID shows that it's Steve calling her, and she knows that she should not ignore it.
Wanda pushes herself up onto her elbow and slowly, carefully moves the covers off of her and shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, her feet resting against the chilled wooden floor. She reaches over and turns on the lamp that sits on the nightstand and a warm light fills the room, she lets out a heavy breath before reaching for the phone as it continues ringing and answers with a whispered, “Hello, Steve,” as she stands and spares one more glance in your direction, a smile lights her face as you continue sleeping undisturbed and she walks towards the bathroom.
“Hey, Wanda. I’m sorry it's so early, I’ll make it quick.” She gives a nod in understanding as she shuts the door with a soft click, trapping the conversation inside. “It’s okay,” She keeps her voice low as she leans her back against the door.
“I know that it’s only been a few days since you got back from Washington and Fury promised the two of you this vacation but something has come up and we need her for one last mission before your vacation starts.”
She runs a hand through her tousled hair with a soft sigh. “It’s a simple mission, it should only take a few hours.” He adds when it seems to take her too long to respond. “When does she need to be there?” She finally asks.
“Later today, preferably before noon.” She can hear the apology in his voice but before she has a chance to say anything further, she feels the door open and straightens her back as she turns to see you peek your head in the bathroom, a sheet draped over your shoulders, mid yawn.
“Okay, thank you for the heads up.” Wanda speaks before she hangs up and places the phone on the counter next to the sink, reaches out and pulls you over to her side. She slips her arms around your waist as you rest your head heavily on her shoulder.
“Who was that?” You mumble against her shoulder, slipping into another yawn.
“Steve. He needs you for a mission before we can start our vacation.” She responds quietly.
“He’s such a meanie.” Your response is finished with another yawn, and Wanda chuckles softly as she tugs gently at your hips to pull you even closer. “He’s going to be sad when I tell him you said that.” She teases softly with a low tone as you place a tender kiss along the column of her neck. “He deserves it.”
“Come on sleepyhead. Let's go back to bed, we have time.” She leads you back into the bedroom with a gentle nudge.
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imtoodizzy · 10 days
Text
POST COVID ANALYSIS: did butters get misrepresented in the fixed timeline?
im baaaack! (sorta)
i’m just gonna messily ramble. this is a topic i’m very passionate about, as i’ve heard countless people say it time and time again. people in the past have definitely heard me talk about this, but i’m here to to it again on a blog post!
so did he? the short answer: no! but, to explain it further…
people argue that butters was misrepresented in the fix timeline because they see it as a downgrade to vic chaos. butters has a strong work ethic as seen countless times, especially butters bottom bitch. because of that, vic was a perfect way for him to grow up while also showing how messed up he got from the isolation he endured. everything about vic was so cool and such a great way to create new layers to butters in a way that makes sense. then… he became a server. maybe it’s the way the change was so drastic, but people didn’t seem to agree with this. at first, i didn’t either, but then i thought about it.
first of all, id like to compare him to stan. sure, stan has found joy in little things like playing trucks with his friends, but he always seemed to want to go be bigger than that. in a scause for applause, he without hesitation takes up being a poster child for a nike commercial, or what i’ll focus in on right now, trying to be the face of anti bullying in butterballs. he seems to enjoy seeking out doing these huge things on multiple occasions, but butters? he didn’t want to be a part of that anti bullying video. he didn’t want to have the big role. plus, later on in that episode, he learned to look on the bright side: his grandma will live on miserably, and he doesn’t have to be miserable like her. it doesn’t feel good to be shitty as he learned from being on television. he didn’t need to do anything huge to feel better, he just needed to stop and think. another episode i’d like to bring up is raisins. stan going through a breakup went through a dramatic phase of depression, rotting in bed and listening to sad music. he eventually joined the goth kids and tried to change his whole life to surround darkness and pain, a huge difference in behavior over a breakup. butters though, he just learned to embrace the pain and use that sadness to appreciate his happiness a little more… his happiness that comes from singin’ about apples and playing hello kitty island adventure! essentially, stan and butters cope differently. butters takes a more mild approach.
okay, moving on from my point about stan, i want to further show how butters doesn’t need to reach the stars to be happy… this time in an extremely direct way you all will just have to agree with! it comes from dikinbaus. in one of the final scenes of the episode, butters gets fed up with cartman and takes on dikinbaus himself. it becomes an immediate hit! he talks to a banker who gives him his first return, while butters is just glad he made his money back. the banker begins to push him to expand on the business, then butters says the quote i think is most important to this all:
“yeah, i wasn’t thinking that. see, all i ever wanted was just to do my job, learn how to work, and help mr. sullivan sell ice cream.”
see? butters didn’t need anything extravagant, he didn’t need to become rich, he just wanted to scoop icecream and he was happy with that. vic chaos may have been very cool, but butters doesn’t need all that. he just wanted to serve people, and he was happy with that. and okay, i know that episode came out after PC, but even think back to his most notorious working episode, butters bottom bitch. he was willing to give up his whole business just for the simple joy of real love existing.
so, what i’m getting at is… butters doesn’t need to reach for the stars to be happy. he’s a simple boy who is easily satisfied! and while he is capable of so much, he deserves to put his joy first. it’s not wasted potential, it’s him living his life how he wants.
(and also can i add something about earlier that’s totally unrelated? it’s interesting to me how different personalities react to trauma. butters clearly has things wrong with him like being somewhat of a people pleaser and being manipulated even if he tries to put his foot down, bla bla bla, but a lot of what i mentioned shows how he’s not really all that fucked up because he learns how to cope instead of taking it in. i think butterballs in particular shows how he is able to cope with the boys, mainly cartmans cruel behavior as well as even his own parents while raisins shows how he can manage his emotions maturely. really cool!)
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mizoreyukii · 2 years
Text
Mod Status: June 14th (2022) Patch 1.89.214.1030
2022 July 3rd - The following were updated:
Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything - Updated again to add meteorite, murphy bed, and rodent disease death for children (and enabled cure interactions for kids).
Human Ghost - Spanish translation by MashyLatte and Russian translation by Miskam added.
No Fade On Everything - Added My Wedding Stories, Werewolves, Decor To The Max, and Little Campers. If you were experiencing loading issues, especially in Sulani, please update all your GP, EP and Base Game files (and clear the cache). If you are still experiencing issues, you MUST go to my Discord server for troubleshooting. Please do not post in other places, as I can't help there.
Removed Occult Plumbob Ring - Updated for werewolves.
Styled Looks Hider - Added Werewolves and Moonlight Chic kit.
Also updated How to Create Custom Occult Rings & Plumbobs tutorial with the new werewolf plumbob IDs.
Next posts I'll be making should have ItsKatato's mods, and the broom and hat updates (finallyyy).
I will likely be adopting some other mods soon as well, just waiting to hear back from the creators and some other people for a few of them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorry for the wait on the tumblr post! You can always find the latest info on my Patreon in case I’m ever too slow to post on my other social media accounts.
The following were updated for this patch (Kids Can Plan Social Events is the only one that actually broke, the rest are updated for the werewolf pack/patch changes):
Kids Can Plan Social Events
Stand Still in CAS
Human Ghost - Italian translation from Isy has also been added with the 1.89 updates.
Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything
I will be working on No Fade on Everything (causing some issues for people and needs new packs) and Styled Looks Hider (just pack updates) now. One that I missed in the initial update is Removed Occult Plumbob Ring, which I'll update at the same time as the others.
As for the mods I adopted from ItsKatato, they should still be fine with this patch. I will work on getting those posted once I'm done with these current updates.
Everything else should still be compatible and working.
For my combined mods with thepancake1, check here.
Oh FYI, if you guys buy the werewolf pack to play with the wolves as a family AND have Ingeli's/Simverses' custom bassinets, remove them. They will stop the werewolf bassinets from appearing at birth/working. She's currently busy with life stuff so won't be back to update them for a while. I also picked up the bassinet injector again, so I will hopefully have that released soon and when she is back can convert her file to using the injector instead. Onesies may be coming later though, but my goal is both at the same time.
Remove Hats & Gloves Indoors and the Functional Broom updates that I finished will be posted in a few days as well (or sooner). I'm adding last minute compatibility with the Royalty Mod servants and hopefully the translations.
For Everyone Can Suntan, EA added a moonbathing interaction to BG which was a future planned update. Since they added their own version, my version is likely off the list and I will be investigating EA's files to see if there's anything I want to add or improve.
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checked-windows · 3 years
Text
IN SERVICE
Aaron Hotchner x trans male reader
Warnings: references to addiction.
Jack had told his dad about his new friend 'Nero' and kept going on about him and his dad who was also 'so cool'. Aaron Hotchner had listened intently nodding when he felt like it was needed.
A few days later Jack was telling him. About how Nero had knocked him over and he'd scraped his knees. Aaron had been worried at the bandage that was wrapped around his sons knee. It had been Nero's dad who had patched him up and scolded the other boy.
Another week past and Aaron was taking Jack to the park for a team day out to enjoy the sun and a rare day off. They were all sat on a blanket watching the kids run about with a ball when a speeding mass of grey collided with Jack and had him pined to the grass. Aaron was on his feet in seconds panic rising in his chest making him feel sick.
"NERO!" a voice called from the side and a man was hauling the mass off of his son by its collar "Do you ever listen? You okay kiddo?"
"I'm fine Mr (l/n) ! Hello Nero!" Jack answered petting the large dog.
"Nero, apologise to Jack" you ordered and the dog licked Aaron's sons face. Jack was giggling and you finally released the dogs collar, smoothing down the fur "Run away again and your going to live on a farm"
Aaron was standing in mild shock when you turned to him with a sheepish smile.
"I'm so sorry about him. He seems to have taken a liken to Jack" the man said rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's OK. I think I got a fright" Aaron responded "Aaron Hotchner, you must be Nero's dad then"
"That's me! (y/n) (l/n)" you answered and Aaron finally took you in fully. What he had originally thought was a strange shirt turned out to skin, littered with tattoos of all sorts, down your arms and across your stomach and chest. A shirt was tucked into the waistband of grey shorts. But it was two faint scars across your chest that drew Aaron's attention. He quickly snapped his eyes back up to meet yours and a small smile.
The dog was sniffing at Aaron's pants and you huffed a laugh.
"Maybe it's just Hotchner's he likes so much" you pointed out. Aaron reached out to let the dog sniff his hand and stroked over his head softly.
"What breed is he?" Aaron found himself asking.
"Tamaskan" you answered "They are bred specifically to look like wolves but honestly he's just a big softy"
Aaron seemed to remember that he was with the team and froze for a second.
"I'm going to get him home. It's hot out and he's gonna need a nap, you should get back to your team. Tell Jessica I say hi"
"Yeah I will do" Aaron said and you beconed the dog to follow, waving to Jack as he led the Nero away. Aaron turned back to the team who were pretty much leering at him at this point. He huffed at them with a glare that had no real heat behind it. Aaron began taking Jack to the park more to even catch a glimpse of you but fate never seemed to be on his side. A large part of him wished he had given you his card or something to contact him on. The agent eventually just excepted that he would most likely never cross paths again.
Emily Prentiss stepped into the tattoo parlour slowly a familiar dog catching her eye as she moved to the front desk. This would be the eighth shop that she had tried, the rest were either booked up or refused to do the work.
"I'm just going to send you straight through. We should be able to sort you out" the receptionist stated shoving things in her bag. Emily followed her gesture into the main part of the shop, the dog nudged her hip and lead her towards the man sitting on a swivel chair. You hair had been dyed an electric blue but when you looked up she knew your face, even only from a brief view. You breifly recognised her.
"How may I be of help?" you asked with a smile, Nero sided up next to you and you buried a hand into thick fur.
"I want to get a tattoo, over a brand" she said and you nodded. This was the 8th time she'd had this conversation and expected you to shut her down.
"Cool. How big of a brand are we talking?" you asked "And depending on the scarring it will most likely have to be greyscale but I can add a pop of colour if you wish"
Emily's eyes widened a bit and her shoulders slumped with relief.
"Are you OK?" you asked going to reach out but changed your mind before making contact.
"I was expecting you to tell me that it wasn't possible. That's what everyone else has said" she said. Nero rested his head on her thigh, she hummed stroking his head.
"I find tattooists in the area are a bit iffy about tattooing over scar tissue. I am too but I'm sure I can work it out for you" you said "How big are we talking roughly? And where is it?"
"I'll just show you" she said shucking off her blazer and unbuttoning her blouse to show the brand on her chest. You winced slightly before scooting closer and tilting your head to get a better look.
"Do you mind if I touch it?" you asked and got a nod in return. You pulled on a black latex glove, and gently touched the brand, poking at the skin "Is this painful at all?"
"No, I can't feel much there anymore. I think the nerves were burned" she answered and you put a bit more pressure on it to see if she flinched away but she sat still and you nodded.
"Oh I'll be able to tattoo over this easily" you said pulling the glove off and throwing it in the trash "What do you think you'd want to cover it with?"
"I was thinking a bird or something" she answered quietly.
"A bird? I can do that gimme like 30 minutes to draw something up for you and you can tell me what you think." you said spinning the chair away from her to grab a notepad and pencil "Also I'll need your full name and some form of ID to photocopy. For our records"
"Are my credentials OK?" she asked and with you nod pulled them out of her pocket.
"Thank you" you said and peeked in the leather holder "Emily Prentiss"
You moved away to copy her details before coming back and handing it to her.
"I strongly recommend going to get something to eat while I'm getting this sorted for you. I wouldn't want to phone Mr Hotchner to say one of his agents has passed out in my studio" you were smiling and Emily followed the order. Going to the cafe around the corner sending a text to the team group chat.
E PRENTISS: I found out where Hotch's eyecandy works.
P GARCEA: ohhhhh! Where!?
A HOTCHNER: Not my eye candy.
E PRENTISS: Lucifers tattoos. He's dyed his hair blue.
D MORGAN: I was thinking about getting a new tattoo.
P GARCEA: very interesting indeed :)
Emily laughed at her phone and realised her 30 minutes were up and headed back to the studio where Nero met her at the door and lead her back to his human who was finishing wrapping the chair. You looked up and laughed.
"Clearly he likes you, Mr chauffeur" you laughed and the dog bounced away to his bed in the corner.
"He's very well trained" she pointed out sitting down when you patted the padded chair.
"Only when he's wearing his vest. When he's not he knows he can misbehave cause he's not working" you said and sat on the swivel chair again holding something that looked an awful lot like a hospital gown out to her. "Nero is a service dog. He helps me with daily tasks like remembering to eat as well as being out in public spaces. He's also very good as noticing the signs of a relapse"
Emily shot you a look while he was flattening the stencil over the brand on her chest trying to keep your hands as gentle as possible.
"How's that for you?" you asked.
"That's perfect, it covers it amazingly" she said and got a grateful smile in return, you spun around and pulled out a fresh pair of black gloves from the box and started the needle.
"You good? Needing anything before we start?" you asked.
"Yeah and no I'm good" she answered. And you started the tattoo, she could see your chest moving when you breathed and moved hair from your forehead with an arm.
"I can hear the cogs turning in your head. Ask the question that's bugging you" you said keeping your head down
"You were an addict?" it left her mouth with far less tact than what she would have wanted.
"Yep. Nothing too hard but enough that I couldn't function as a 'normal' person, I couldn't hold a job this studio saved me" you said and wiped the ink gently "Nero keeps me functioning and safe"
"Well I'm glad your better now" she said and you smiled.
"Cravings come and go but I'll be fine. Oh if you find yourself talking your team don't mention this to them, Nero likes Jack" you said and laughed. The conversation lulled and the sound of the needle filled the room.
"Do you want to take a break?" you asked and got a nod in return "Can I get you a drink?"
"No, no it's OK" she answered. You removed the gloves and throwing them away before stretching out your legs and grabbing a bottle of something green out of a mini fridge. Nero whined loudly and you laughed.
"I'll be back in 5. He needs to pee" you said tapping you thigh so that the dog followed him. Emily noticed the badges pinned to the dogs vest, each clearly outlining the position of service animal and 'do not touch'. You wandered out a door and were away for close to 10 minutes before coming back you looking at the dog with a scowl.
"I cannot believe you did that. Pissing on a car. You're better than that" you huffed before sitting back on your chair and putting a fresh set of gloves on. "Ready?"
"Yeah. I think so" she answered.
"We can stop here and continue another day" you offered leaning back slightly.
"If I don't finish it today, I never will" she responded and you shrugged before putting the needle back to her skin. An hour and a half past before you were putting the needle down and cleaning her skin gently.
"All done" you said "You wanna see it?"
"Please" she breathed and you pulled a hand mirror off the tray next to you holding it so she could see. "It's beautiful thank you"
You smiled and let her keep looking while you tapped a tablet before handed it to her and she looked at the price.
"$200?" she asked eyes widening. You nodded slowly "Surely it's more than that"
"We have a deal on. Half price for cover ups on hateful or hurtful tattoos. I know the brand isn't a tattoo but I'm sure it's definitely hurtful, especially to the wearer" you said before directing her how to pay. Emily tried not to cry as joy filled her heart. She tapped the tip button and typed in $100, paying and handing the tablet back to him. You didn't notice to begin with until you did and smiled softly at her.
"Thank you" you said and put the tablet down "Try not to put a lot of pressure on it and if you need to put a vest on put some tissue over it in order to keep it happy"
She hugged you gently with another 'Thank you' before leaving the studio.
You were suprised when more FBI agents flooded the studio one after another, sometimes weeks apart. You didn't mind in all honesty, they were all lovely people and learning about them was an interesting endeavour , Derek Morgan had a son but loved his job equally, Jennifer Jaraue wasn't too sure of her own sexuality but had two sons to worry about, Penelope Garcia tried to see the good in everyone and everything but had definitely seen too much in her life, David Rossi (hadn't gotten a tattoo) but had spoken to you for a solid two hours about your' life and how you were doing a nice thing for his team and Spencer Reid had come in to get a constellation over scars on the crook of his elbow and told you the story behind them. You had felt something snap in your heart for the doctor once he had told you about Hankel, Spencer had been forced into addiction, you had not, you had chosen it.
More time past before you bumped into Aaron again, and by bumped we meant Nero had threw himself full force at the FBI agent bowling him over. You knew immediately who it was even before the man's shout of indignation reached your ears and raced after the dog screaming his name.
"Nero! I see you pup" Aaron laughed ruffling the dogs fur. You stopped next to them and hauled the dog off panting for air.
"I swear he just loves you and Jack" you huffed and helped the man to his feet. The man laughed and shook his head.
"I wanted to give you this" he said handing a small card over "It's got my number on it"
"Thank you" you said taking the card and smiling at it before shoving in your pocket. You didn't know if calling him was a good idea but it didn't need to happen because you bumped into him first, full on face into his chest.
"Oh my god. I'm so sorry" you rushed before even noticing who he was, it was the laugh that made it through the panic "Oh Agent Hotchner. Hello. I'm sorry"
"It's alright" he steadied you with a half smile. "However while I have you in front of me I was wondering if you might want to go on a date with me?" Aaron asked "Dinner or drinks or I don't know something"
"Can Nero come?" you asked raising an eyebrow. Aaron laughed and nodded. Nero sniffed the bottom of Aaron's pants again and their hands brushed slightly.
"Listen, I'm not suggesting that we-" Aaron started but you were moving close to him grabbing the lapels of his jacket and hauling your bodies together, leaning up to press your lips together.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while" you said a blush rising up your neck. Aaron cupped your jaw and pulled you towards him bringing lips back together, tattooed fingers gripping his suit jacket.
"So was that a yes?" Aaron asked breathless. You laughed stepping back to pick up Nero's leash.
"Yeah. It is" you answered your other hand coming up to brush your lips.
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doctorstethoscope · 3 years
Text
The Right Chapter 21 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader
Helloooooo my friends!!! You are going to love this one. I am so excited to hear what you think about it. Hold on to the fluff my loves. 
Read previous chapters of this fic here! 
warnings: food mention, alcohol consumption, discussion of pregnancy (not reader), mild sexual content
wordcount: 1.9k
“Okay, be honest. How many nights have you actually spent here since you moved in?” Emily asked, perched on the couch in your apartment, a glass of wine in her hand, a few empty bottles scattered between you, her, JJ and Garcia throughout your living room.
“That’s not fair! We spend way more nights out on cases than I do at Aaron’s place,” you laughed from across the living room in a lounge chair. 
“You know that’s not what she meant, peach.” Garcia chastises you, and JJ lets out a snort. 
“It doesn’t matter. Her non-answer is answer enough,” she points out, and you all laugh together.
“It’s a good thing,” Garcia reminds you. 
“Oh, absolutely,” Emily concurs. “We’re all glad you finally figured it out. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to stand you making googly-eyes at him during active hostage situations.” 
“I did not!” You defended yourself with a smile, hiding your grin behind your fourth-- or was it your fifth?--- glass of wine. 
“You weren’t that bad. That’s not to say you were good at hiding it, because you weren’t,” JJ assures you. “But you held it together in the field.” 
“See, guys? And JJ’s sober.” You reminded the group.
“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” Garcia offered her. 
“No, I’m alright,” JJ denied. “Actually, I offered to drive because…. Will and I are expecting!” She announces, and your faces all light up in unison. 
“Jayje!” Emily squeals, practically diving across the couch to wrap her friend in a hug. Penelope is right behind her, and you all take a moment to fuss over her and feel her non-existent bump before settling back into your own seats. 
“Oh, that means you and Hotch are next!” Garcia asserts drunkenly, and you tense, although you doubt any of the ladies noticed. 
“You think you’d want that? Kids, I mean?” Emily asks you, reclining back in her chair. 
“I don’t really know what Aaron wants,” you shrug the question off, averting your gaze to your wine glass. 
“That’s not what we asked,” JJ redirects you, apparently unwilling to accept a non-answer this time around. “What do you want?”
“With Aaron? More kids, definitely more.” You confess. “But Aaron’s older than I am. I don’t know if he feels like he’s done with that part of his life, you know?” 
“There’s no way. He loves Jack more than anything.” Emily concludes. “He seems like the type of guy who’d love to keep you barefoot and pregnant, even if it’s only because he’d get to pull you out of the field and keep you safe at home.” 
You let out a real laugh at Emily’s assertion. “Well, if he ever asks me about it, I’ll be sure to include that in my supporting arguments.” 
“Trust me-- they never feel done with being a dad. How do you think Will and I ended up with baby number two?” JJ reminds you with a wink. 
“Oh, you guys would just have the cutest babies. That dark Hotchner hair and your pretty eyes!” Garcia gushes, her lower lip starting to quiver. 
“Okay, and that’s my cue to get her home,” JJ chuckles, rising from her place on the couch. “Drink some water before you go to bed, okay? And maybe eat something, and take some advil?” 
“Okay, mom,” you rolled your eyes, standing up and giving your friends hugs goodbye as you said goodnight. 
“Hey, someday you’ll understand,” JJ tells you. “It will be sooner than you think, I’d bet.” She winks, and you roll your eyes at her again, smiling as you walked the three of them to the door.
----------------
“We’re going on a date tonight,” Aaron tells you as the two of you leave the office a few nights later. “Jess agreed to take Jack.”
Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Am I forgetting something?” 
“Only that I love you, and as your boyfriend I reserve the right to take you out whenever I please,” He smirks, placing a hand on your back as he opens the door and helps you into the car. 
You roll your eyes, but you’re not quick enough to come up with some smart-ass comment, so you let him have the win as he drives you both home.
“Should I wear something specific?” You ask as the two of you walk into the house together.
“We’re gonna walk downtown a little, so something comfortable,” he advises. “Do you need to do anything other than change, or are you basically ready to go?” 
“I could use ten minutes to freshen up,” you tell him, and he nods with a smile. 
“Take your time, we’re not in any rush,” he says, kissing your temple and moving into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable as you step into the bathroom, adjusting your hair and makeup just a tad. When you come back into the bedroom, Aaron’s switched into jeans, so you do the same. You go to fish your wallet out of your work bag, and Aaron slaps at your wrist lightly. 
“Stop it. You don’t need that,” he tells you, and you roll your eyes with a playful smile. 
“You’re a neanderthal,” You tease him, letting him guide you out of the house and back towards the car. 
“No, I was raised right,” Aaron corrects you. 
“What if I want a drink and I get carded?” You smirked as you buckled your seatbelt. You were younger than Aaron, yes, but not by that much. 
“If you get denied because you don’t have an ID on you, I’ll stop at the gas station on our way home and buy you a six pack of bud light.” He assures you as he backs out of the parking lot.
“So romantic,” you cooed overdramatically, tossing your head back with a laugh. Aaron takes advantage of the opportunity to lean over the console and press a quick kiss to your jawline.
A few moments later, Aaron parks the car in front of a greasy spoon downtown that you’d never been to before, and you give him an inquisitive look. It’s not that you minded at all-- any time you spent with Aaron was perfect in every way. But his dates were usually a lot higher-key. 
“I’ve got to keep you on your toes,” he shrugged with a boyish grin as he took your hand in his on the sidewalk and walked you into the restaurant. He let go reluctantly as the two of you slid into opposite sides of a booth. 
“So, it’s safe to assume that there’s more to tonight’s date than burgers and milkshakes?” You ask Aaron after the two of you have placed your orders. 
“Oh, absolutely,” Aaron nods, smiling smugly. 
“And are you going to tell me what that might be?” You asked hopefully. 
“Absolutely not,” Aaron confirmed what you had already suspected.
“Not even a hint?” You asked. 
“You’ll find out in due time. Be patient, princess,” he encourages you. 
“I’m willing to beg,” you informed him. You were sure that whatever he had planned would be romantic and wonderful, but god did you want to know. 
“Darling, I’d really prefer if you saved that for our bedroom,” Aaron deadpanned, and you choked on your water. 
“Agent Hotchner!” You chastised, catching your breath. 
“Come on, now you’re just teasing me,” he winked, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. 
“Well, is it working?” You asked, wondering if you could flirt your way into some intel. 
“Not a chance,” he admonished you playfully as the waitress sat your meals down in front of you. 
After dinner, Aaron took your hand back in his and led you out of the restaurant. You started to head off towards the car, but he stopped you. 
“You did want to see what else I had planned, didn’t you?” He asks, facetiously. 
“Yes please,” you smiled shyly. 
“Take a walk with me,” Aaron says, tugging you back into him so he can wrap his arm around you.  It takes a couple of paces for him to find his metaphorical footing, but after a moment, he speaks up again. “I haven’t been clear with you about what my intentions are, and I wanted to apologize for that.”
“Aaron, you don’t have to--” you start, but he cuts you off. 
“Let me, first, please?” Aaron asks of you, looking you in the eyes, and you nod, giving him permission to continue. “I haven’t explained to you exactly how I feel, and because I didn’t do that, you’re having to worry about silly things, like whether or not you have the same amount of experience I do, or whether or not I’m going to run off with Jack’s teacher or one of his friends moms.” 
“Well, I’m less worried about Rhonda now that I’ve met her wife. But Ms. Meadows is still on my watch list.” You tell him, and he chuckles, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it as he takes you down a side street. 
“Darling, you’ve got nothing to worry about. That’s what I needed to tell you. I’m all in, sweetheart. You, me, Jack, and anyone else we might add to our family-- that’s all I want. That’s my priority.” He tells you, and your breath catches. “So, I got you a little something, just to show you how serious I am,” He says, leading you into a jewelry store. You stop in the doorway. 
“Aaron Hotchner, please tell me you’re not proposing at the jewelers.” You whisper out, not wanting to cause a scene. You would have said yes, regardless, but you were struck by a little bit of shock. 
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, dear. Come on in, and I’ll show you,” He takes your hand again, and you step into the jewelry store with trepidation. The man behind the counter seems to recognize Aaron, as he produces a bag from the back counter once they make eye contact. Aaron passes the bag to you, and you push through the pink tissue paper to uncover a box, in which you find a single diamond solitaire pendant.
“Aaron,” you start breathlessly, but he’s already taking the necklace out of your hands and maneuvering the clasp around your neck. 
“This is just a placeholder, until you’re ready for the real thing,” Aaron whispers, pressing a kiss behind your ear once the necklace is secure. “But since we’re here, would you want to try a few on? So I know what you like? You’re not allowed to take the real one off, once it’s on. So I want you to be happy with it.” 
You’re sure that you’re dreaming your way through the rest of the evening. You try on what feels like every ring in the store, including the ones you insist are too expensive, but Aaron refuses to listen. You’re practically floating on air during the walk back to the car, and you let out a sigh as you settle into the passenger seat. 
“I know I said you weren’t allowed to take the ring off, and I meant it,” Aaron tells you. “But if you’re not ready to start thinking that way, I understand. This is at your pace. You just let me know, and I’ll pump the breaks.” 
You practically launch yourself across the center console, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. “Does this thing go any faster, actually?” You ask, and he laughs as he kisses you again.
tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads
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rafael-silva · 3 years
Text
we remain: a tarlos fic
Missing scenes from 2.12. Takes place after Carlos and Gabriel’s phone call. 
*
“He on his way?”
Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”
Gabriel’s arrival after the fire leads to him taking Carlos and TK home, where Andrea is waiting for them with some much-needed motherly comfort. Reeling from the fire and its damage, Carlos feels heavy and lost. He leans on his boyfriend and TK is there to catch him. Carlos comes to a realization and with TK’s help and guidance, Carlos finds his footing again.  
missing scenes, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, carlos needs a hug, kisses, sharing a bath, soft tarlos
4.5k | rated T | on ao3
*****
“He on his way?”
Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”
Carlos had zoned out of the conversation jumping between Judd, Owen, Tommy and Billy as they all stood by the opened ambulance doors. He’d hear TK’s voice whenever the young paramedic would say a word here or there, but Carlos’s eyes kept drifting back to what remained of his, and briefly his and TK’s, home. The stench of smoke and burnt wood hung heavy in the air around him. He almost felt lightheaded as he surveys what little remains of the life he built for himself over the past few years. Carlos feels like he’s free falling, the only thing keeping him from crumbling is TK’s hand in his, strong, supportive and there. Carlos holds onto his boyfriend with everything he’s got, both needing the support and needing to know that TK is really here and next to him.
He looses track of time, but soon, his ears pick up on a worried voice calling from behind, a familiar voice. But it seems so far away, so distant, like he’s underwater and someone is calling for him from above.
Carlos slowly turns around, his hand still clasping TK’s, and it’s then he registers his father rushing towards him.
“Carlitos,” Gabriel calls again, his voice coated with concern and his eyes blown wide.
“Dad,” Carlos whispers, his voice hoarse as he breaks away from TK’s side and takes a couple of steps to meet his father.
“Hey, son,” Gabriel breathes out and wastes no time in wrapping Carlos in a hug.
Exhausted, mentally and emotionally, Carlos falls against his father, closing his eyes as a tear falls down his ashy cheek. He gravitates closer to Gabriel and the older man tightens his hold him.
Carlos can hear Gabriel murmuring words of support and comfort and Carlos soaks it all up. But it doesn’t stop his body from shaking in his father’s arms.
“It’s okay, son, it’s okay,” Gabriel continues with his reassurances, and after a glance towards the ambulance and seeing TK standing near Judd, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed, he adds, “you’re both okay.”
Gabriel’s hold on Carlos doesn’t falter until Carlos starts to calm down. The officer draws in a breath and is about to say something but those words are interrupted by a rough cough tearing through his throat.
Gabriel frowns and he’s the one who pulls back slightly, eyebrows drawn together and closely watching his son’s face as the coughing fit continues.
“Carlos,” Gabriel says once his son can answer, “are you sure you don’t need to be in the hospital?”
“It’s fine,” Carlos replies around a grimace, pausing to suck in some air and swallows against his parched throat. “I got checked out, we both did, and it’s just minor smoke inhalation.”
“Son…” Gabriel tries again.
“We’re okay, dad.”
Carlos’s shoulders are hunched downwards like they were carrying the weight of the world and then some and Gabriel sighs, hating how worn out and tired his son looks. Carlos looks so deflated, so small and it breaks Gabriel’s heart.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, that you both are,” Gabriel expresses, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s. “I was so worried.”
Carlos nods, sniffing. “For a moment in there, I…I thought we weren’t going to make it out…the fire was everywhere, the whole house was…even in the bedroom. We were about to jump out of the window when Owen…” he trails off, his voice breaking. He bites down on his lower lip as fresh tears build in his eyes, as he recalls those terrifying moments. As he recalls the words he stumbled over, the fear echoing as he spoke, thinking it would be the last time he’d ever talk to TK.
Gabriel momentarily shuts his own eyes, his soul shattering at the mere thought of his son not making it out of the fire, and knowing that that was a very real possibility shakes him to his core. And even more so, knowing that he was partly responsible for this disaster, that his actions could have inadvertently caused his son to get hurt or worse, or caused his son to lose the man he loves. Gabriel knows he’s never going to forgive himself for this. His mind drifts back to the frantic call he had received from Owen less than an hour ago.
Gabriel had frowned slightly when the caller ID lit up with Owen’s name. Something stirred in the Ranger’s gut then, telling him that something was wrong.
“Owen,” Gabriel had picked up.
“Gabriel,” Owen replied, his strained voice confirmed Gabriel’s instincts. “Have you heard from Carlos recently?” He asked, forgoing any pleasantries.
The question made Gabriel sit up a little straight, any remnants of fatigue from their long day immediately evaporated from his bones. He took a quick glance at Andrea, who was moving to get into bed next to him, before he answered Owen.
“Not for a few hours…why?”
“Raymond, we know he wasn’t done. Remember what he said? That he’s going to take everything that’s important to me? I thought he was talking to me,” Owen paused and Gabriel heard the sound of the car accelerating.
Dread had begun to build in Gabriel’s gut as he waited for Owen to continue.
“I thought he meant the 126. But the fire at the station wasn’t what he was talking about. At least not completely. Gabriel…I didn’t realize it sooner but he was talking to us both.”
Gabriel’s blood ran cold and his heart dropped into his stomach when Owen’s word sunk in and he realized. “The boys…”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to reach TK but it keeps going to voicemail.”
“Hold on,” Gabriel said as he turned to his wife. “Call Carlos.”
It was Andrea’s turn to frown, confusion morphing on her face but the urgency behind her husband’s words had her instantly reaching for her phone and calling their son. She shook her head a few moments later.
“Voicemail,” she informs Gabriel, her voice thick with worry now.
“Try again.”
“You’ve reached Carlos, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Carlos’s phone keeps going to voicemail, too.”
“I’ll keep trying TK, I’m on my way there now and we called it in,” Owen said.
“I’ll meet you there,” Gabriel replied as he got out of bed.
He turned to Andrea again once he hung up the phone, the feeling of helplessness sinking deeper into his body and he could see his own fear reflected back at him.
He didn’t really know where to begin, but he settled for, “the boys are in danger.”
He wasted no time in getting dressed and driving towards the condo, sending silent prayer after prayer that the boys were okay, that Owen would get there in time. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he gets a phone call with his son’s voice on the other end five minutes before he arrived. Relief washed over him, and the surge of emotions was enough to break his usually strong composure, making his hand shake as he gripped the steering wheel.
He breaks from his thoughts when he hears Carlos shakily exhale and a hand goes to cup Carlos’s face, Carlos instinctively leaning into his father’s palm.
“You made it out, son, you’re here and that’s the most important thing. We’ll figure out everything else, okay?”
Carlos nods again and starts composing himself, his hands going to hold at the blanket around him and adjusts it over his shoulders.
Gabriel gently pats his cheek and gives him a sad smile before withdrawing his hand and they make their way over to TK and the others.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Gabriel tells TK, lightly clapping him on the shoulder.
“Thank you, sir,” TK responds, moving back to Carlos’s side.
“Owen,” Gabriel then extends his hand towards the fire captain, “thank you.”
Owen nods and shakes Gabriel’s hand. “It wasn’t just me, though.”
Gabriel then looks at Judd, Tommy and Billy. “Thank you all, truly.”
“Don’t mention it,” Judd replies. “Carlos is family and we do anything for family.”
Gabriel’s heart swells at Judd’s statement and at seeing that there’s a village of people looking out for his son.
Gabriel nods his thanks at Judd before turning to Tommy. “Captain Vega, thank you for being here.”
The Paramedic Captain nods. “Of course, I wanted to make sure the boys were okay for myself.”
“They’re going to be okay?”
“Dad…” Carlos groans.
“This is for your mother,” Gabriel turns to look at Carlos. “She made me promise to make absolute sure that you’re okay, from everyone.”
“They’re okay,” Tommy confirms. “I checked them both over myself, they’re going to be a little tired and weak for a few days, so they have to take it easy,” she pauses to look directly at TK, who shifts on his feet under the attention and leans into Carlos, “but they’ll be recovered in less than a week,” she continues. “They just need to rest.”
Satisfied, Gabriel nods. His eyes move back to Carlos, who’s looking at the few scorched frames that are still standing. Gabriel feels the guilt start to build again, both at seeing the ruined house and the broken look on Carlos’s face. He knows he’ll have to talk to Carlos about this, to tell him what caused this. He’s worried it’s going to cause another rift in their relationship they’ve only started to mend, but he knows that he’d deserve that if it happens. He kept information from his son and his son lost his home, his son almost didn’t make it out. His guilt is only increased at missing the true meaning behind Raymond’s threat. It was right there, right in front of him, but he missed it. He can’t help but wonder if only he had caught it before, if he had realized, maybe this tragedy wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Carlos wouldn’t look so crushed right now.
But he missed it, and it almost cost him his boy. It almost cost his son the man he loves. He’s standing in these ruins and his heart clenches in his chest. Those are things he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life. And he’s going to do whatever it takes to earn his son’s forgiveness.
Seeing how heavy and worn-out Carlos looks, Gabriel decides to keep an eye on his for the time being, to make sure he’s okay, and here. To make sure both he and TK are okay. It’s the least he could do.
Feeling his father’s gaze, Carlos turns to look at him and Gabriel responds with placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you ready to go?” Gabriel asks.
Carlos’s breath hitches a little, looking back at the house and then at TK. He knows there’s nothing to be done, the house is gone and he can’t do a single thing about it.
Besides, what remains of the house is still swarming with firefighters so he can’t go back in even if he wanted to. But still, it feels like his feet are nailed to the ground and he can’t move an inch, fixated on the burnt ash lying ahead of him.
TK appearing in his line of sight breaks Carlos out of his haze.
“Babe,” TK starts, both hands going to hold Carlos’s face. He caresses Carlos’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, not breaking their eye contact.
Carlos focuses on TK, on his green eyes that stand out against the black ash painting his face, and it helps calm the officer.
TK suppresses a cough before he continues. “I think you should go with your dad,” he voices. “I know being close to your parents tonight will help, baby. And I’m sure your mom wants to see you. I’ll be fine, I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”
Carlos shakes his head at the implication that he and TK would be spending the night apart. It’s true, he knows being close to his parents will help him and his parents feel a little better, but he can’t be away from TK, not right now, not when he’s still picking up the pieces of his broken heart, when he can still feel the smoke getting thicker around them, when he can still feel the dread in his gut at the realization that this could have been the end for him and TK. Not when the fear is still coursing through his veins and the roar of the fire hadn’t completely quietened in his ears.
Carlos knows TK doesn’t want to impose and assume he can go home with Carlos to Gabriel and Andrea’s. He knows TK wants to give him what he needs. But the bottom line is, he needs TK. He won’t go anywhere without him.
Gabriel picks up on Carlos’s hesitation and jumps in. “TK is more than welcome to come with us. And he’s right, your mother is eager to see you, son. And I know she wants to make sure that TK is okay, too.”
Carlos relaxes ever so slightly at that, a little of tension in his shoulders fading away. He swallows and nods. Being apart from TK right now would have felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.
With a look between TK and Owen, TK’s eyes saying I can’t leave him and a nod from the older man, it’s decided.
“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” TK promises and wraps Carlos in a hug, holding him just like he had earlier.
Carlos buries his face in TK’s neck, and underneath all the soot and sweat and ash, he could still smell the scent that is TK and it helps soothe his hammering heart.
“My phone, well,” TK tells Owen after he and Carlos separate, gesturing to the nearly empty space behind them. “I’ll text or call from Mr. Reyes’s phone.”
“Okay, son,” Owen nods, making a mental note to get TK a new phone and pulls him into a hug. “Take care of each other.”
With quick goodbyes to Owen, Tommy, Judd and Billy, the three men walk to the Ranger’s truck and climb in.
Carlos doesn’t have the energy to look back, but he steals a glimpse of what was once his home through the right side mirror. His heart feels heavy in his chest as the remaining structure gets smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing out of view. And it’s just then, it truly sinks in that almost everything he’s built for himself, is gone.
He sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. He feels the pull of sleep but there’s still residual adrenaline pumping through his veins, keep him on edge. He settles for resting his eyes and hopes it will ease the sting from the smoke.
The drive to Andrea and Gabriel’s house is spent in silence. Carlos only opens his eyes when he feels the truck slowing and comes to a stop a few moments later, followed by Gabriel turning off the ignition to indicate they’ve arrived.
Carlos takes a moment to look at his parents’ house through the window before moving to get out of the truck. The front door is torn open and he spots his mother quickly walking towards him before his feet hit the ground.
“Ma,” Carlos whispers and a second later, he’s being held in his mother’s embrace.
“Oh, Carlitos,” Andrea sighs, taking on most of Carlos’s weight as he slumps against her.
There’s a considerable height difference between them, Carlos having to lean down to hug his mother, but in this moment, in Carlos’s current state, he feels like a small boy in her arms as he further curls against her and she feels like a giant holding him close.
She doesn’t let go of Carlos, a steady arm on his back, but she extends her other to TK when he appears behind her son. He reaches out to her, their hands connecting and she gives his hand a supportive squeeze, which TK responds to with a nod. He has missed a motherly touch.
“Let’s get you boys inside,” Gabriel’s voice breaks the silence, noticing how Carlos and TK are standing on wobbly legs.
Andrea nods and reluctantly pulls back from Carlos, her eyes still glued to his face and her heart breaks some more at noticing the black botches littering his skin and the redness sitting inside his eyes.
“We’re okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her, his voice still scratchy and low. He gives her the best smile he could muster, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
She nods again and returns the smile, unshed tears shimmering in her brown eyes. “Come on, like your father said, let’s get you inside. I made some soup and fixed up your old room for you boys,” Andrea announces as she leads the men inside.
Carlos is engulfed with memories of his childhood as soon as he walks through the door. He feels his heart lighten a little and TK was right, being here does offer some comfort he so desperately needs.
TK immediately senses that through their cosmic connection, and squeezes Carlos’s hand. Carlos glances over his shoulder and gives TK a small smile.
“I knew you’d be coming here,” Andrea continues. “Call it mother’s intuition, but I knew.”
Carlos nods and looks back at TK and they have a silent conversation then, their eyes meeting and speaking a thousands words and thoughts through brown and green gates. Concern, reassurance, love, all radiating between them, an invisible string always connecting them.
“There are some fresh towels on the bed, and I’ll reheat the soup so it’s ready when you’re done cleaning up and getting changed.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Carlos gives Andrea another hug, drawing strength from her.
She kisses his cheek when they separate and then moves to hug TK. “Thank God both of you are okay.”
Andrea and Gabriel watch as Carlos slowly leads TK up the stairs and only when they disappear down the hall does Andrea turn to her husband.
“I’d feel better if they stayed here for a few days,” she says.
Gabriel nods. “Me too.”
“They’re shaken, but they’re going to be okay, they have each other and they have us and Owen, TK’s team…it’s going to be okay,” Andrea expresses.
Upstairs, TK follows Carlos into the room and closes the door behind them. Carlos takes TK’s shock blanket and discards both blankets into the laundry bin next to the door. With a heavy sigh, he drops on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and places his face in his hands.
TK wants to look around the room, to catch glimpses of Carlos’s childhood and teen years in the books and comics lined up on the shelves, in the posters hung on the walls, in the certificates proudly framed and the medals and trophies neatly organized together. But he pushes that to the side for now, he can do that later. Right now, Carlos needs him.
TK moves towards the bed and sits on Carlos’s left. He wraps an arm around Carlos’s hunched shoulders and draws him close, the officer easily going with him. Carlos removes his face from his hands and settles against TK’s chest, closing his eyes when he feels the kiss TK drops to the top of his head.
Carlos’s hair smells of smoke and ash but TK can smell his boyfriend’s mint-scented shampoo underneath it all. In more ways than one, that mint scent has become TK’s home.
There are no words to be said, not really, so they just stay like that for what seems like hours. TK holding Carlos, running a hand up and down his arm while Carlos listens to TK’s heartbeat as it echoes against his ear, strong and steady. And in its own way, this moment says everything that needs to be said.
TK is the one to break the silence.
“We should get cleaned up, babe,” TK whispers, not wanting to completely shatter the quiet. “And then we’ll have some soup and we’ll sleep.”
Carlos untangles himself from TK but remains close to him, their thighs and sides still touching. He knows sleeping won’t be easy, that there are likely a few nightmares awaiting in the dark, and he knows TK knows that too, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he nods, eyes drifting to the towels next to them.
“Don’t worry about those, I’ll get them,” TK says, breathing through the urge to cough but a couple of cough escape through his lips. “Do you want to shower alone or together?”
“Together,” Carlos immediately replies, and a light blush colors his cheeks.
The blush draws a light, playful chuckle from TK, and the sound brings a small smile to Carlos’s face.
“Okay, babe,” TK nods. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”
They navigate to the bathroom hand in hand, hearing a soft hum coming from downstairs as Andrea and Gabriel watch tv. TK closes and locks the door behind them, and they both start to undress. Their soiled clothes meet in a pile on the floor and Carlos’s eyes linger there for a few moments. As far as he knows, this is everything of theirs that survived the fire. A shirt, a hoodie, two pairs of sweatpants, two pairs socks and two pairs of shoes. That’s it. That is what remains of the life he, and then he and TK, had built. It sends a painful pang echoing through his chest.
The sound of the water spray hitting the marble brings him back from his thoughts, his head snapping up to see TK adjusting the water temperature.
He takes TK’s offered hand and they both step under the water, letting it run down their skin and wash away the physical evidence of the fire.
They take turns caring for each other, lathering up shampoo in their palms and running their fingers through each other’s hair as they wash away all the soot and ash and dirt. They brush soft kisses to each other’s body as they go along, kisses to shoulders, cheeks, hands, necks. Little reminders that they’re okay. They melt against each other, needing to know they’re both there, both giving and receiving in every way they can. They step out when the water starts to run clear and it gets a little cool, drying up with the towels and retreating back to Carlos’s bedroom.
Carlos opens the closet and retrieves some of the clothes he leaves there and lays them on the bed. Two pairs of sweatpants, an old police academy t-shirt for him and a similarly old police academy hoodie for TK.
TK gives him a smile when he notices the hoodie.
They change in silence and TK is about to head out but Carlos’s holds his hand to stop him. TK turns to face his boyfriend and moves back towards him.
“I just…I just need a moment,” Carlos explains, pushing out a small cough.
“Yeah, of course,” TK nods. “Whatever you need.”
Carlos hovers by the foot of the bed for a few seconds, shifting his weight between his feet and swallows. His hands begin to shake on their own accord and his head falls forward. TK instantly takes Carlos’s hands in his and applies a reassuring pressure to them, giving Carlos something to focus on and to help ground him.
“Baby, look at me,” TK pleads.
Carlos slowly lifts his gaze to meet TK’s beautiful eyes. He sees tears swimming against the green irises, sees the concern TK is carrying for him, sees TK’s own pain and fear.
“We’re okay,” TK vows. “I know this won’t go away overnight, I know there’s a lot for us to deal with, I know there’s a lot to feel. But I also know that we have each other, and we’ll rebuild our life together. I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. I swear it to you, Carlos, I’m not leaving your side. And everything you need to feel, feel it. I will be here to catch you.”
Carlos blinks, sending a tear rolling down his cheek. “I thought…when I thought we weren’t going to make it, I started missing everything we would be, everything we had yet to do together. I could see it so clearly, a flash of what we’d become together and then it was gone. I felt that loss, I felt the loss of us and it…” he shakes his head, “it hurt so much.”
TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead. “I know, babe, I was scared too, because there’s still so much we didn’t do together and I was terrified we’d never get to do all those things, that it would be over when it’s only just begun for us…but we’re here, we’re alive, and we have each other,” TK wipes at Carlos’s fallen tears.
Looking into TK’s eyes, feeling and seeing his love and his passion, and feeling the love and passion he has for TK flutter in his chest in return, Carlos reevaluates an earlier thought.
Those clothes aren’t the only things that survived the fire. They survived. Their love survived.
They lost their home, yes, but Carlos realizes then, maybe home is a person. And he knows in his heart now that he found his home in TK.
TK cards his fingers through Carlos’s wet curls and touches his forehead to Carlos’s as they breathe together.
TK leans in, brushing soft kisses to each side of Carlos’s mouth and then one to his lips. Carlos moves in for another kiss when TK starts to pull back.
“Ready?” TK asks when they eventually separate after a few more exchanges of gentle kisses.
Carlos takes TK’s hand and nods, feeling the warmth of TK’s touch seeping into his skin.
“Ready,” Carlos replies and lets TK lead them out of the room and down the stairs where Andrea and Gabriel greet them with soft smiles.
And watching the love of his life engaged in a light conversation with his mother as she serves their food, and feeling his father’s reassurance presence at his side, Carlos nods to himself.
His eyes move back to land on TK, who softly laughs at something Andrea said and Carlos’s own lips curl upwards into a smile at the sight.
Carlos knows it’s going to be a tough road ahead, but for the first time since discovering the fire, hope starts to blossom in his chest.
Sensing his gaze, TK turns, easily finding Carlos’s eyes. For a moment, the rest of the house disappears and it’s just the two of them as they exchange the smiles that are reserved only for each other.
TK turns to Andrea when she says something and with his eyes still focused on TK, Carlos thinks, yeah, we remain.
86 notes · View notes
tetsurobunni · 3 years
Text
Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker
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☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words
☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya
☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel
☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)
☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))
hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit
You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.
This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.
He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.
You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.
Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.
Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.
You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.
Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.
You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.
Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.
A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.
“You look like shit.”
That was not Kita.
“Suna? what the fuck?”
“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”
Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please
“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”
You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.
The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.
Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.
“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”
“What.”
“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.
Infuriating.
“You’re shivering.”
It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.
“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.
He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.
“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”
You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.
Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.
You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.
“Hey, you okay?”
Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.
The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.
“Hey, hey now, look at me.”
The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.
“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.
“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”
Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.
Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.
“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.
This is purgatory.
You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.
“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”
“S’fine.”
Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.
Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.
“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”
You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”
“Like I care.”
“Yea, okay princess.”
You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.
This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.
The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.
You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.
You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.
A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”
“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.
“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”
A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.
“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.
“Yea...how did you-“
“I pay attention.”
Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?
“You look good in my clothes.”
So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.
“Should wear ‘em more often.”
“Shut- shut up.”
“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.
“A little. Still feel like shit.”
“Look it, too.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.
“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean, hm?”
You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…
“That bastard.”
“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”
Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-
“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”
It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.
You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.
After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.
“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”
“You’re going to catch my cold.”
“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.
what the fuck did i do to deserve this?
You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.
“Y/n.” You ignored him.
“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.
“What, Suna.”
“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.
“Why am I any different than anyone else?”
“Because…”
You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”
Okay, now you were annoyed.
“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”
“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“
“Would you shut up for one second and think.”
You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.
“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”
It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.
“You...you like me?”
“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”
All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.
i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.
“You are a menace, Rintaro.”
“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”
“That’s horrifying.”
“Oh shush, ya love me.”
“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”
“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”
“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.
“Hate you, too.”
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hermannsthumb · 3 years
Note
Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!
Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"
15. Bobbing For Apples
from autumn fic prompts here
KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good
---------------------------
It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).
Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.
Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.
Hermann is not enjoying either.
"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.
"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"
Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."
"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."
He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.
With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."
Newt stops laughing. "You were?"
"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."
Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.
He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."
"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.
He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...
"Dude," Newt says.
He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.
"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"
Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"
Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."
He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."
Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."
Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.
He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"
Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.
"No," Hermann splutters.
Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"
He emerges with another apple in seconds.
Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"
"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.
Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.
Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)
And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.
They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"
"It's fine," Newt squeaks.
"It was—"
"I know!"
Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.
"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.
Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.
"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.
Hermann nods again.
"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.
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winterscaptain · 4 years
Text
berry hill.
Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic
a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3  intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc.  words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn. 
summary: "...and there was only one bed."  - old fanfiction proverb
waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)
masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021
It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.
The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you. 
“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”
“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”
“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID. 
“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point. 
“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.” 
“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.” 
You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes. 
“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”
You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”
He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“
“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks. 
“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.  
You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.” 
“I’m so sorry.” 
Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.” 
“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”
Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do. 
He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation, 
“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again. 
You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape. 
Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times. 
You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?” 
“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.
He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding. 
“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset. 
This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all. 
That’s enough. 
You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” 
He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue. 
“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice. 
His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.” 
You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”
“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.
“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.” 
He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.” 
You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.” 
+++
Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone. 
He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.
“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”
You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.” 
“Funny.”
You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”
A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”
“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”
+++
Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you. 
“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”
A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”
He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”
With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”
“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”
You laugh. “I am so glad.” 
“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.” 
“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.” 
Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”
“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.” 
A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it. 
“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.” 
“Thanks, Seaver.”
+++
On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created. 
“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her. 
You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.” 
Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?” 
“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.” 
“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching. 
“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.” 
“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you. 
“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.” 
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.” 
“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point. 
You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.” 
“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”
There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”
“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.” 
You throw your hands in the air. “What?”
Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.” 
Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious. 
Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years. 
Shut up. 
“Serious about what?”
Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.” 
+++
You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings. 
“Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Aaron.” 
“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”
His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?” 
“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”
He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”
Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 
“Of course. Sleep well.” 
You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.  
“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you. 
“Thank you. Jump in.” 
You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine. 
He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow. 
With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road. 
The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile. 
Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave? 
If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him. 
As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.  
Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour. 
It happened more often than he’d like to admit. 
“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to wake you.” 
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.” 
You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed. 
He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself. 
The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one. 
You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest. 
Might be good to pick up some food on the way...
He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him. 
“Aaron.”
He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.
He fails. 
You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you. 
It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death. 
Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.
The profiling never stopped, it seemed. 
It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different. 
That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.
Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend. 
But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes. 
The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp. 
“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary. 
He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”
You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.” 
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.” 
+++
After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive. 
Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.” 
“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning. 
“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.” 
“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”
There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.” 
Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.
“Why is this one your favorite?”  You hear yourself ask. 
He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”
You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.” 
Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.” 
You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”
He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.” 
You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.” 
That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.” 
You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully. 
And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps
I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…
“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest. 
He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.” 
As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.
“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”
Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.” 
You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first. 
It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow. 
+++
You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”
“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”
“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”
You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.” 
He laughs, and you tell him. 
You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge. 
“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.
“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.” 
“What are they like?”
There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile. 
“It’s good of you to keep in touch.” 
You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”
The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce? 
There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death. 
You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.” 
He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”
“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.” 
There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks. 
You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.” 
+++
You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door. 
Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag. 
There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part. 
He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him. 
Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him. 
Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think. 
Do you ever shut up?
Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive. 
“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you. 
When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way. 
“What time is our first obligation?”
You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.” 
He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?” 
I love you. 
Shut up. 
You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.” 
Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom. 
Oh my god. Oh my god. 
You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.
Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips. 
Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him. 
+++
When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close. 
There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep. 
You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.
Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart. 
He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch. 
You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing. 
His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep. 
You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change. 
He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him. 
Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose. 
Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light. 
What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his. 
The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now. 
If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him. 
But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son. 
He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side. 
The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find. 
He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now. 
You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you. 
There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head. 
“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal. 
A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.” 
“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”
He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.” 
+++
The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else. 
You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach. 
As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all. 
“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.). 
You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.” 
The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.” 
“DoJ, in Quantico.” 
Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.” 
Carson, that’s it. 
“No shit!” 
A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure. 
“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.” 
“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine. 
He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is. 
And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in. 
“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder. 
“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple. 
“Always.” 
It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it. 
Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile. 
Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron. 
“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other. 
You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.” 
Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.” 
+++
“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.” 
Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest. 
You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”
“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”
“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.” 
You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron. 
Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron. 
Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway. 
“I really can take the couch.”
You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.” 
“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”
“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.” 
The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.” 
“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.” 
The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off. 
“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night. 
Don’t get comfortable. 
Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?
He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more. 
You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you. 
“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.” 
You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it. 
“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.” 
I’d like to let you come -
Ew, dude. 
What?
Now is not the time. 
“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”
Your friend. 
He is your friend. 
I know but that…sucks. 
It doesn’t have to. 
There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.” 
He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.” 
+++
You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone. 
Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder. 
His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm. 
Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.
The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day. 
That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself. 
If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three. 
“We work together.” 
“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”
“We’ve been partners for almost four years.” 
And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand. 
You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home. 
But God, he’s good at it. 
You almost believe him.
He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together. 
You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought. 
When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack. 
But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms. 
He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.
He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too. 
How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.
And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together. 
You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him. 
Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner. 
He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants. 
With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower. 
While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower. 
What if you just - 
Do not finish that thought. 
You are not one iota of fun. 
Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.
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You sigh and pull out your phone. 
“Prentiss.”
“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”
“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder. 
You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.” 
“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”
“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”
Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.” 
He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?” 
Ah. So it is Emily. 
“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan. 
With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress. 
You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts. 
“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter. 
The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.” 
“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”
“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.
“So that’s a yes.” 
+++
Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you. 
But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on. 
The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all. 
You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant. 
“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far. 
You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.” 
“About?”
You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.” 
His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless. 
+++
You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you. 
“Darling!” 
Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.” 
She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.” 
You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.” 
She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?” 
“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”
“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”
You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.” 
She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.” 
“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.” 
With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”
He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”
“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you. 
“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”
You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.” 
Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you. 
When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time. 
“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.” 
Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.” 
He nods, and glances at you. “It does.” 
Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders. 
“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie. 
As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better. 
“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.” 
You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”
“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”
“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath. 
What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure. 
“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”
You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”
“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.” 
“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.” 
“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.” 
+++
When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play. 
Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions. 
“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face. 
“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.” 
You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because I’m lying.” 
And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that. 
He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you. 
You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died. 
You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you. 
“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.
Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”
“Relax.” 
“You’re one to talk,” you scoff. 
He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.” 
The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”
“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.  
“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts. 
He nods. “I do.”
You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands. 
The silence that lapses between you is comfortable. 
Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...
When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.
The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder. 
“Thank you for being here with me.” 
You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”
+++
Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.
You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.” 
He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”
“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend. 
The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items. 
There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up. 
When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light. 
He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers. 
His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon. 
That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his. 
+++
You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you. 
“Good morning,” he says. 
You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.” 
His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” 
Don't read into that. 
I’m going to. 
Don’t. 
Fuck. 
“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way. 
“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”
“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up. 
He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.” 
“I won’t argue with that.” 
You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout. 
He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”
You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!” 
Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope. 
“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man. 
“Tell me everything.”
“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?” 
Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home. 
She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”
With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.
“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second. 
You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.” 
He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.” 
You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack. 
“Hey bud!” 
There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation. 
“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”
When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”
“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.” 
You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”
“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.
“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice. 
He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”
+++
Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest. 
At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat. 
As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?” 
“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile. 
“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.” 
You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”
He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.” 
“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.” 
“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh. 
“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.” 
He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.” 
You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on. 
+++
You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute. 
There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world. 
It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse. 
The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something. 
Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door. 
You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek. 
“Thank you for inviting me.” 
All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says
“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.” 
He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.” 
You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands. 
Fuck. 
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mintymiknow · 3 years
Text
Trust Fall ch. 8 | Lee Minho
summary | character profiles | masterlist
Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader
Summary: Little discussions here and there seem to open some eyes and hearts, but is it enough to fully break down the walls that were built? 
Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action
Word count: Approx. 5.8k
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Warnings for this chapter: Genre-typical violence & blood due to fight scenes (rest assured, it isn’t gore; just basic or typical violence for fight scenes). Let me know if I missed anything or should add more warning tags though!
A/N: I know you all had to wait for a bit, but I used my break to spend time with family (and play Genshin so...hehe I needed some “me-time”). Anyway! I’m back and here to give you all the next chapter for the series. I hope you enjoy reading it as the end scenes have been my favorite to write so far ‘cause you’ll be getting some tension and fluff at the same time. Leave an ask for any questions and comments!
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“I’ve fallen into a daily routine now. I’m used to everything and go about my day normally now.”
That’s what you’d like to say anyway.
While it’s somehow true that you’ve fallen into a systematic rhythm in SKZ, it’s still something that weighs down on you, and you just want to get things over and done with. You still have to drag your body away from the bed, drag your feet here and there, and work in the lab department.
This systematic rhythm consists of working in the lab with Seungmin and Jisung - and eating your meals with them mostly. It also involves Minho and the other boys going on smaller-sized missions, each return giving you more things to work with and whatnot.
In the very back of your head and heart, the brief moments Minho spends with you - namely late nights in the lab discussing the recent findings and theories - are somewhat a breather as it reminded you of the times you and Dr. Kang would stay in the doctors’ lounge, talking about how your rounds with the patients went for the day.
Well, at the end of it all, at least you’re basically good friends with Seungmin and Jisung now. Being with the two gave you a sense of freedom as if you were back in your more relaxed college days or something of that sort.
After getting showered and dressed for another day, you head to the lab department. On the way, you bump into Felix in the courtyard-like area of the HQ. The young male greets you with a smile, “Morning, y/n! Lab duty again?”
You offer a small smile and nod in response, “Hi, Felix. Yes, as usual.”
“I see.” Felix chuckles lightly, “Don’t forget to stand up and stretch from time to time. Sitting for long hours isn’t good for your posture! Though you’re the doctor so I’m sure you knew that…”
“We can forget.” you chuckle, “Thank you for the reminder. You should keep that in mind too.”
“Yeah, sitting in front of computer screens and whatnot is bad for my eyes, but probably my back too.” Felix laughs, his eyes filled with so much brightness.
You release a soft sigh and smile, “I commend you and your efforts in the tech division.”
“Thanks…” Felix says sheepishly, “I’m not one for being in the limelight, but it’s nice to hear that us tech agents are doing good too. We are working in the background most of the time.”
“Well, I’m sure that without you and the other tech guys, Minho and the rest of the agents would be doing missions blindly and without any advantages.” you say seriously yet warmly.
“That’s true.” the younger laughs, “Gee, you’re really nice, you know that?”
“Not really...just...um, saying facts.” you stutter, suddenly taken by surprise by his compliment, “It’s from a completely objective perspective after all…”
Felix grins wider, shaking his head, “I can tell you’re a nice person, y/n! Minho says you’re a bit closed off, but it’s understandable. Jisung and Seungmin know you best, and they like you a lot, so that’s more than enough to like you too. Besides, you wouldn’t be here if you really didn’t care, right?”
After that statement, another agent calls for Felix, so the freckled male has to excuse himself. As he trots off to the main HQ building, you stand there, dumbfounded.
“Besides, you wouldn’t be here if you really didn’t care, right?”
You’ve been blaming Minho and Jung and SKZ for dragging and forcing you back into the game. Blaming them for giving you no choice no matter what, but deep down, you knew that you did have a choice. You could run away any time, turn to the government or something to fight for your rights. You could give in to the dark whispers of joining Cle to end whatever struggle once and for all.
But you had a choice, and you chose to work with SKZ.
Because yes, you cared. Yes, you wanted to make sure no one lost their lives over a stupid serum.
You chose this.
Who knew that Felix, happy-go-lucky and carefree as he was, would just nonchalantly utter words that would open your eyes and heart. Well, maybe it was that innocence and cheerfulness that made it more believable and genuine to you.
Shaking your head to release yourself from a trance, you clear your throat and make hurried steps towards the lab department. You take the elevator and go down to the underground level where most of the work is done. You then venture further inside, heading for the hallway where various rooms are lined. You’re about to scan your ID to open the door to the lab room you frequently use when the door slides open by itself; you’re met with a tall figure in front of you.
You look up, only to see Jung standing in front of you, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, Dr. Song, good morning.” he chuckles.
You nod politely, “Yes, good morning, Jung. What...what brings you here?”
Jung rarely stepped foot into the lab unless you guys summoned him and the agents for briefing on test findings and results. As far as you were concerned, the results for the tests Jisung ran yesterday are due later in the afternoon, not this morning.
Unless...something happened and Jung needed to speak directly to you, perhaps?
“Did...something happen?” you ask again, clearing your throat.
Jung shakes his head and offers a smile, “Well, technically I was looking for Seungmin, and since you both work closely, I thought he’d be here...where’d that boy go?”
“Seungmin’s doing his rounds in the medical wing, I think.” you explain, “Did you need something from him? Maybe I’d know…”
“Oh, no. It’s just about an agent that needs treatment, and I think Seungmin would be the best doctor to work on it.” Jung sighs and offers a small smile, “No matter, I’ll look for him myself.”
“I see, alright then.” you nod.
“Have a good day, Dr. Song. Don’t forget to take breaks. Minho says you’ve been working non-stop.” Jung calls over his shoulder as he walks away, muttering something about ‘where is Kim Seungmin’ afterwards.
You go inside the lab room and press the button for the door to slide shut. Call it “trust issues”, but as soon as the door closes, you scan the room and check everything there, making sure how you left it last night was how it was until now.
Not a single thing was out of place, so you mentally slap your mind for being so suspicious.
You then proceed to study whatever chemicals and substances the team has brought back the past few days, and you study them along with...well, vials of chemicals that you’ve hesitantly withheld from the rest - from Minho. These withheld items were things you’d only test and analyze when you were working by yourself, keeping the observations and notes in a small notebook that you kept in utter secrecy and safety.
If Jisung and Seungmin wanted to enter the lab room, they’d have to knock or scan their IDs, and if it were the latter, the beeping sound before the door opens gave you enough time to conceal whatever substances you were hiding under the table or in the desk drawers.
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After a few hours or so, you finally decide to take a break and keep the vials and flasks in a locked cabinet before clearing up the desk and returning whatever equipment you used. However, you still remain seated on the stool, going through the notes you’ve written in your notebook and rattling your mind to come up with mental calculations and formulas to make sense of your findings. So far, you don’t have anything, and your eyebrows knit together in desperation.
“Y/n.”
You freeze in your spot upon hearing that sharp and clear voice; you don’t even bother to make any moves in hiding your notebook - that’s too suspicious. Instead, you simply close the notebook and try your best to look as calm as possible as you look up, “Agent Lee.”
Minho crosses his arms, something you’ve learned to look away from - unless you want to internally drool over how attractive the simple gesture looks. “I thought you were supposed to be with Jisung for today? That’s what he told me last night anyway.” he says plainly.
You sigh. Did they all keep tabs on you or what? “I was just about to meet with him.” you answer, breaking eye contact with him once again, “I just...wanted to check some things here.”
“Anything of use?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know he’s trying to get you to explain yourself.
You lift up your notebook and weakly wave it in the air before explaining, “Just...going over some notes from previous findings and trying to connect the dots. I...am yet to see anything of significance.”
Once again, not a complete lie; yes, you were trying to connect that dots and whatnot, but nothing of significance? That was a lie. You’ve already noted some pretty significant findings aside from the ones you discovered with the other scientists, but you didn’t need to tell Minho that. Not yet...maybe.
Minho walks over, stopping a bit too close for you, and you involuntarily flinch at the suddenness...and proximity. The agent notices the subtle reaction, eyes slightly lidding in either annoyance or guilt...you aren’t sure which one. He plants a hand on the desk, leaning against it as he raises an eyebrow again, “Care to share anything else?”
You shake your head, moving to put your notebook in your small purse and slinging it onto your shoulder. You stand up from the stool, but instantly regret it as Minho takes one very miniscule step towards you. That tiny step is enough to cause you to take your own step back, unfortunately bumping into the stool behind you. The male catches you with ease, a hand lightly supporting your lower back as he tugs you close with one swift and effortless motion.
Your hands fly out to settle against his chest in an effort to put as much distance between you two. Minho leans close, his head perfectly and dangerously near the side of your neck; his dark hair tickles your ear, and you can almost feel the tip of his perfect nose against the skin of your neck. You can’t help but gulp, and you’re sure the agent notices it. Despite his body warm against yours, you’re frozen like ice, unmoving as Minho remains in that position for a few more seconds.
After, he pulls back and stares at you with an unreadable expression, dark eyes still somehow sparkly despite the tension in the room. “Did you...perhaps drink at the bar before coming here? While on duty?” he asks sternly, as if reprimanding you.
You blink your eyes, staring at the male with confusion. “Excuse me?” you blurt out.
“You smell like alcohol.” Minho says in a deadpan manner.
You angle your head to sniff your shoulder to see if he was telling the truth. Surprisingly, you caught a whiff of alcohol from your jacket and internally groan, closing your eyes in embarrassment. If this were a cartoon, your cheeks would be tomato-red. You open your eyes to see Minho smiling at you, the curl of his lips nothing short of teasing and playful. Your cheeks are probably redder now.
“I didn’t drink today.” you clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from Minho’s to look down. Instead, your eyes land on his tie, already loosened at the top with the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Your mind goes hazy.
Minho laughs lightly, “You do know it’s against the rules to go to the lounge bar when on duty, right?”
You snap out of whatever reverie you were in, dragging your eyes back to Minho’s. You nod, narrowing your eyes to mask your flustered state, “I drank yesterday, but with Seungmin and Jisung. I didn’t do anything today. This is the jacket I wore yesterday, that’s why.”
“I see.” Minho tilts his head innocently, pulling away and retracting his hand from your back; you suddenly miss the warmth.
You clear your throat once more before bowing politely, “Now if you’ll excuse me, Jisung might be waiting.”
You don’t wait for Minho to reply, skirting around him to leave the room in a hurry. Minho watches your retreating figure with warm eyes, but as soon as you’re gone, he narrows said eyes and scans the room. Though nothing in particular seems wrong, he does notice a small sheet of paper on the floor, perhaps slipping from your notebook when you hurriedly put it back in your purse. He bends down to pick it up, flipping it over to reveal a small polaroid photograph.
Minho’s eyes glaze at the photo, taking into account the three individuals posing happily. He sees a woman on the right, one eye closed as she makes a winking face with a smile wide and bright as she flashes a peace-sign with her hand.
In the middle is a male who Minho recalls is the man you met up with before - Dr. Kang Hyunbin, the one you claimed to be your good friend. He smiles calmly, eyes twinkling even through a photograph as he has one arm around the other woman’s shoulder, and another arm around your shoulder.
There, at the left side you stand, smiling wider than Minho has ever seen, eyes full of life and not dull like how it is in here. The three of you were in casual clothes, though still wearing your usual lab coats in what seems to be the outdoor garden of Gongjak Hospital.
“Never thought I’d see someone smile like this after her.” Minho thinks to himself, “How cruel is fate, huh?”
He catches himself looking at you a second too long than he intended, so he releases a sigh and pockets the photo, making a mental note to return it to you soon. Turning on his heel, the agent then heads for the training facility in the main building.
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“If I may be so bold, I’d say you’re in love.” Jeongin laughs after finishing a routine on the treadmill, plopping down onto a bench, “Not kidding.”
Minho leans against one of the gym equipment, raising a displeased eyebrow as he utters, “Yeah, you’re being too bold as usual, Innie. That’s not even - I don’t even know what to say in response to that.”
Chan wipes the sweat off his forehead with a towel after he finishes his turn with the punching bag. “I am intrigued how you came with that conclusion though.” the eldest says.
Jeongin laughs, his eyes narrowing into a playful yet sincere disposition, “Well, you don’t show it, but we know you well enough to see that you really do care about her. And it’s not just because you’re her partner or it’s your job to do so. I know how you are when you genuinely care about someone, and your eyes tell me that you do care about y/n more than you lead on.”
“Ok, but what if I’m only like that because I don’t want her to die? Because we’re agents? We’re supposed to be protectors of this country and its people?” Minho reasons, heading towards the punching bag.
“You’re pretty touchy and teasing with her, am I right? Kinda flirty and charming.”
“It’s called a cover, Innie. You’re familiar with that.”
“I just have a feeling. You don’t care about people to that extent. You tend to act out of duty and obligation, not attachment and emotion. With us being an exception to that, the other person I can see this side of you with is when you’re with y/n, or if it involves y/n.” Jeongin leans back against the wall, his smile not faltering one bit, “Not saying you’re attached to her, but I’m just saying that there’s already an emotional connection, and I have a feeling it won’t be long until it becomes something more serious.”
Chan looks at the youngest in awe, smiling like a proud father as he slowly claps his hands. He puts a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder and gently shakes him before turning to Minho, “You know, I do have to agree with Innie on this. You don’t even have to act on feelings or whatever. Just...try not to close yourself or your doors, alright? Maybe you’ll earn another new friend along the way.”
“I don’t need her if I have you guys.” Minho lightly punches the bag a few times, “She’s a waste of time. I just need her to finish her part so we can finally conclude this long mission.”
“You’re probably going to shoot me for saying this,” Jeongin starts as he hides behind Chan, “but are you just saying that because she reminds you of Jiyeon?”
At that, Minho shoots a glare at the two males, eyebrows furrowed. Jeongin sheepishly chuckles, but he boldly presses on. “Changbin told us...how much y/n reminds you of Jiyeon, and well, yeah, we do see it too. Is that why you don’t want to get attached? Not even romantically...platonically, even.”
Minho’s eyes soften as he looks down at the floor, “I’ve made myself clear when I said that emotions are a waste of time and are a useless distraction - things I can’t afford in this job. I’m here to protect people, not make friends and fall in love.”
Chan hums, offering a slow and easy smile as he looks at the male with warmth. “Y/n isn’t going to kill you. Or us. Or anyone for that matter.” the eldest agent states confidently, “It goes against her principles...against the doctor in her. That’s more than enough to convince me she’s on our side.”
“Wasn’t that what we thought of Jiyeon?” Minho scoffs, “Noble woman serving the organization to protect the people because of her pure heart?”
“No.” Chan says in an instant, his voice filled with certainty, “Y/n cares about lives, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. She’ll do everything in her power to fix this just so she can prevent harm...and maybe find peace from whatever past is haunting her.”
Then Minho and Chan stare at each other, a brotherly connection swarming in their eyes as whatever determination Chan has to share makes its way to Minho. The eldest agent then continues with a softer, more apologetic voice, “Jiyeon...is the opposite of y/n, now that I think about it. Y/n reminds you of the mask Jiyeon had, but not Jiyeon herself. That woman...worked in the complete opposite way of what we stand for - what y/n stands for.”
Minho releases a sigh, slumping down onto the bench beside Jeongin. With a groan, he leans his head back and rests it against the wall. Chan chuckles, giving his friend a light pat on the shoulder.
“Jiyeon’s gone, so let go of her now.”
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A day later, Jung sends Minho and a small team to a factory site for investigation. He requests your presence as well, as the factory was used for chemical experiments, and you might have additional input as the investigation is carried out.
You sit in the backseat of the car, staring out the window as Minho sits next to you, and despite being on the other end of the backseat, you can feel his warmth radiating from him. Usually, he’d be driving or seated in the passenger seat if Chan was driving. But right now, two other agents were in front, and while Minho was supposed to sit in front, he swapped places with the other agent and sat with you.
Though, if you were being completely honest, you couldn’t decipher why, because right now, the man has barely spoken or looked at you. It’s a quiet ride, and you aren’t sure if it’s because he’s with agents who aren’t his usual circle of friends; you decide to keep quiet as well.
The agent driving parks the car by some trees along with another car before your groups begin to trek up a small hill that leads to a secluded factory building. The other agents go their own way with Minho reminding them to keep things subtle and quiet. The male agent then addresses you, but he does not look your way, “Follow me.”
Not that you really cared, but his indifferent - or more indifferent than usual - demeanor slightly puts you in a confused state, but you follow him nonetheless. Once inside the factory building, you look around and whisper, “Is this an abandoned site?”
Minho shakes his head, sharp eyes looking around, “Technically not. Cle occupied and used this site, but as per intel, they’ve only recently relocated the operations for this place somewhere else. This is now just a backup hideout, in simpler terms.”
You nod your head, and Minho continues, “We’re here to investigate, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Ok.”
With that, another blanket of silence befalls you two, and you find yourselves searching and investigating the room you were in. You both work in silence, and while it has its pros and cons, you can’t help but feel uneasy. On the bright side, you could focus on your task at your own pace and not get distracted, keeping things to yourself if needed. However, you’re slightly used to him asking questions and checking on you every now and then, so you can’t help but think if he’s upset or angry.
Or he knows something about what you’ve been hiding.
Impossible; that couldn’t be the case right?
He’d confront you if that were the case, not avoid you...right?
Unfortunately, there’s nothing of interest and significance in this room, so you tell Minho. It would seem he has the same thoughts because he furrows his eyebrows and gestures towards the rooms down the hallway nearby. “They must have swept this place clean.” he sighs tiredly, “Let’s move on.”
You nod and follow him in silence, the agent carefully and quietly navigating through the confusing halls and rooms of the factory building. Unfortunately, it was as he said; it would seem Cle did a good job in making sure no traces were left for SKZ to pick up on, leaving you empty-handed. The agents communicate with Minho through their communication devices and inform the male that they’ve moved on to the North building which was on the opposite side of the factory compound.
You and Minho head to the last location to scout, and it turned out to be a run-down lab room. The interior and leftover equipment and tables were clean, but you could see specks of rust forming on the surface. You gingerly brush your hand on one of the table surfaces, sighing, “This kind of environment could affect whatever chemicals and substances they were working with.”
“Unless this is a set-up to make it look like they haven’t been doing anything here.” Minho points out, squatting down in front of one the shelves lined with bottles of murky liquid and chunks of...whatever specimens, “Any idea if these will be useful?”
You walk over to him and look at the stuff on the shelf. You sniff the bottles of murky liquid before contorting your face in disgust, “This is just stagnant water. It’s murky because of dust and dirt.”
“But these…” you trail off, tilting your head to examine the containers with whatever solid specimens, “...these are…”
You gulp, unable to finish your sentence as your mind finally registers what those specimens were; pieces of body parts that had long decayed, probably to be used for observational purposes but rotted over time.
Minho notices the way you stiffen, gulping hard as if urging yourself to keep the bile to yourself. He breaks whatever “silent treatment” he had going on, putting a hand to your shoulder to get you away from the shelf. He steps in front of you to block your view, bending slightly just to get to your eye level. “Y/n, just rela - ”
He doesn’t get to finish his words because in a split-second, his eyes leave yours as they fill with urgency. Before you know it, he grabs your shoulder more firmly and pushes forward. You yelp as you land on the ground with him on top of you at the exact same time you see a small dagger lodging itself into the shelf. Your eyes widen and fall to Minho who already has his icy eyes on the newcomer to the room.
He mutters a hurried “get out of here” before getting up and facing off with the stranger. However, you can’t bring yourself to move, frozen on the floor as you watch the stranger lunge for Minho. The two men engage in a frenzied hand-to-hand battle, but it would seem like the man is at par with Minho, keeping up with the skilled agent’s moves.
Minho refuses to draw out his gun to make sure he doesn’t make any noise to prevent attracting attention should there be more enemies around the area. He manages to gain a short upper-hand, sending the enemy a few feet back with a strong spinning kick. He then rushes over to you and grabs your hand so that he can pull you to your feet.
“Let’s go.” he says in a low voice, not wasting any time in running from the room.
You’re both running as fast as you can, hand tightly gripping each other’s as if your life depended on it. You arrive in one of the open-space rooms, and as you continue to run, the wooden floor below creaks softly. The enemy is a quick runner as well, somehow managed to catch up with you two. He reaches out, grabbing your other wrist and pulling you from Minho’s grasp and pulls his fist back to land a punch. The agent refuses to let him do so and turns around, using whatever momentum to pull you behind him just as the enemy’s fist lands on his jaw. The impact causes Minho to let go of you as he falls to the side, and you find yourself yelling his name.
The opponent chooses to go for Minho instead of you, picking the agent up by the collar of his shirt. He bashes his head against Minho’s, and while the agent winces in pain, he grits his teeth and fights back, back to being on equal ground with the enemy. They engage in another physical combat, landing blows on each other here and there. As if nothing could be worse, another stranger runs into the room, grabbing you from behind in a choke-hold.
You do your best to stop him from suffocating you, kicking and trying to elbow the man behind. Minho sees it from the corner of his eyes, clicking his tongue in exasperation. His opponent lunges an arm forward, holding a knife, so Minho grabs said arm and pivots with complex skill, doing some sort of flip and twisting the enemy’s arm so he could end up behind the agent. With the opponent in a similar choke-hold, Minho grabs the knife and skillfully throws it towards the stranger holding you.
Unfortunately, because you were both moving a lot, the blade seems to approach you instead. Your eyes widen with fear, but thankfully, it only shallowly cuts your cheek before lodging itself into the stranger’s neck. He lets go and collapses on the ground with a thud, blood now pooling around him.
However, because of that moment, Minho’s opponent gains the advantage once more, headbutting Minho’s chin, prompting the agent to let go. The enemy is quick to turn to Minho, another knife in his hand to jab at the male who is recovering his bearings. You don’t know how you managed to bring yourself to do it - maybe the adrenaline rush or fear of having Minho killed in front of you - but you pull out the knife that killed the other stranger and run towards Minho’s opponent, stabbing the blade into his shoulder as he was wearing a muscle tee.
You try to ignore the blood painting the enemy’s skin, using the time he takes to get the blade out to rush to Minho’s side. You both then take steps to run away; however, the enemy isn’t too pleased with what you’ve done, shifting his attention to you instead of Minho. As he takes a step forward, however, the wooden floor beneath creaks loudly, and Minho’s eyes catch the subtle splintering around the three of you.
“Minho, let’s go.” you say in panic when the agent seems to be standing still.
Minho’s eyes are stuck to the wooden floor, making some sort of mental calculation in his mind.
One more step.
As the enemy makes one more step, the floor makes a breaking sound and gives out. Minho, however, is able to push you back just in time, allowing you to remain on the unbroken part as he and the enemy fall to the floor below with a sickening crack.
“Minho!”
You see the agent pushing himself to get up with a few coughs, but so is the opponent. The agent then looks up to you, eyes still calm yet with a sense of urgency, “Go now! Run to the rendezvous point! I’ll follow!”
“But - ”
“I promise, just go!”
You bite your lip, nodding in understanding as you turn on your heel and make a run for it. Minho then wipes the blood dripping down his chin and turns to his opponent, a cold and almost cruel smirk playing at his lips, “Now that I don’t need to hold back, I hope you’re ready.”
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Meanwhile, you pump your legs as hard and fast as you can, running towards the rendezvous point. Unfortunately, that meant where the cars were parked, but you still had a bit of distance to cover since you and Minho ventured deep inside the building. Just as you’re about to reach the end of the hallway near one of the back doors, you hear gunshots, bullets barely missing you. You try to conceal your screams, ducking down and running into a rather large room, quickly finding a hiding spot behind a cement pillar.
The shooter repeatedly shoots the structure as you cover your ears. Fragments of the pillar crack of and fly here and there, dusting your hair and shoulder with chalky-white bits. After a moment, the shooter stops to reload his gun, and you take the chance to sprint to another hiding spot. 
He begins to shoot just as you drop down and make your way behind an old couch, a bullet barely missing your leg. He shoots without stopping, the couch fillings flying everywhere. Another round to reload his gun, and you grab a nearby ceramic vase and throw it to him as hard as you can. 
The shooter shoots it, but the split-second allows you to find cover behind a desk in the other end of the room. You curl yourself up, hugging your knees to yourself as you take deep and shaky breaths. In the dead silence of the room, you can hear your shooter’s footsteps approaching slowly, the grasp of fear locking onto you as you cover your mouth. You hear the clicking of the shooter’s gun, and you close your eyes, anticipating the worst.
However, when you hear a bang followed by a thud, you don’t feel anything and instead see a body collapse to the side, thankfully facing away from you. A few seconds later, Minho appears, kicking the body away from you and kneeling beside you. “Y/n.” he whispers.
You let out a deep breath, only noticing now that tears have streamed down your face. Minho’s expression softens, eyebrows knitting in concern as he reaches out to brush off the cement particles that dusted onto your hair and shoulders during the shootout. He then moves to wipe your tears with his thumb.
Never have you seen so much warmth in his eyes as he stares at you, eyes never leaving yours as you let out quiet sobs that rattle your shaky figure.
Despite the cuts on his bleeding lip, bruises painting his cheekbone, blood trailing down from his head to the side, and disheveled hair, he still looked familiar, warm and comforting - like a home you’d return to after a hard day’s work in the hospital.
You didn’t know it was possible for him to look like that.
You close your eyes when his thumb stops brushing your tears away, his hand now moving to cup your cheek with a tenderness opposite of how he fought off his opponents. “Hey.” he whispers so softly, only you can hear it like a secret message, “Are you hurt?”
You shake your head, still trembling. Minho nods in understanding and helps you up before telling you to wait for a second. He walks over to a nearby window and communicates with the rest of the team, giving them an update on the situation. Meanwhile, you kneel down next to the shooter’s dead body upon noticing a small plastic vial filled with red liquid. Quickly, you swipe it and shove it into your brassiere for extra measure. You stand back up, walking over to Minho.
He finishes communicating with the team before gently taking your hand in his, “Come on.”
Without a word, he leads you out, walking calmly towards the rendezvous point. Once there, it would seem like the team was still on the way from the other building, so Minho sits on the hood of one of the cars, eyes still on the sharp look-out for any enemies. You sit next to him, exhaustion clouding your eyes as you stare straight ahead.
“I’m sorry.”
You hum emptily, “Hm?”
Minho sighs, turning to face you. You don’t pull away when his hand finds your face, thumb gently dancing around the cut you got from the knife from earlier. The blood had dried up, but it made its mark. The agent’s thumb is soft as he strokes the skin under the cut, “Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s fine.” you clear your throat, looking at him for a fleeting moment before turning your eyes to his chest, “You still saved me, so thank you.”
“And you saved me.” Minho responds, offering a small smile.
You can only nod, the impact of the events finally catching up to you. Tears swell in your eyes again, and you feel a light shiver travel down your spine. Minho isn’t new to comforting people; he may say he doesn’t care, but he knows what to do and how.
So he reaches forward, gently tugging on your arm to pull you close to his chest. Once your head comes into contact with his chest and you feel his arms wrap around you, providing warmth and security, you weakly sob against him. He brings a hand up to your head, softly stroking your hair as he whispers against your temple, “This mission wasn’t supposed to go this way. My bad for not being able to foresee these circumstances. Sorry you had to go through it.”
Perhaps today, you put your guard down enough for him to console you. You let yourself believe and trust him. Just for today. Tomorrow, who knows?
You shake your head and clear your throat, “Not your fault. It’s part of the job, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Minho sighs, hoping you don’t notice the way he holds you closer and tighter, “It is.”
Maybe Jeongin and Chan were right.
Loved you? Maybe not that.
Cared about you? Genuinely? Perhaps he sees it now.
But can he afford such a luxurious feeling? Such an emotion?
Last time he allowed himself such indulgence, he paid a cost too high.
148 notes · View notes
huxs-waifu · 3 years
Text
Grease monkey - Hux x GN!reader
Armitage Hux/Reader
Complicated Relationships
Gender-Neutral Pronouns
Armitage Hux is a Jerk
Dress Up
Established Relationship
Relationship Issues
Reader-Insert
Making Up
Makeover
Class Differences
Fluff
Summary
Hux calls the reader a Grease monkey. things dont go down well.
i dont know id this is romantic, humour or crack. the reader is gender-neutral pronouns and there's a tiny bit of swearing
"Your just a little grease monkey I can't be seen with you," Hux said looking down on you.
"We've been flirting for months you could have said something. So to go out with you for real, I need to clean up."
"Don't get in a huff Y/n, you know I want you, but a technician with a General wouldn't be right at a presidential party. Do you even own any other clothes?"
"No, you should know that by now but that's not the point, you're saying you don't enjoy the way I look" jabbing him in the chest.
"No, I love the way you look. i love these eyes, the way your nose wrinkles when you smell something, that cluster of moles that look like a star sign" placing a hand on your hip and the other on your ass. "I'm merely saying that. You maybe need to bring out your high-class side just once. If you get something sorted, let me know, I've got to get back up on deck."He pushes against your finger with his chest, as he leans down to kiss you on the cheek." I do love you Y/N but I've got to keep appearances up there ." His hand Cupping your face before leaving.
------ Later in a hanger, Phasma is taking to Hux about his and y/ns relationship. Her helmet was off, and she was shaking her head.
"So you're telling me that the first person on the entire ship, that actually wants to go out with you and you tell them there not high-class enough." running a metal hand through her hair. " you realise you are a fucking dumbass. Did you ever think you should maybe buy them something different to wear?" Taking a swing, whacking him on the back of the head with the same hand.
"OW, I am not a dumbass."
"In matters of the heart, you are." returning the helmet on " Buy them something to wear then you can show them off on top deck, regardless of them being a grease monkey as you called them!"
meanwhile in your room.
"I'll show him I can be classy. A Generals partner hell wants to show off. Not some little concubine grease monkey."
you look through your old uniforms seeing what fabric there was. you ended up over the next few nights, stealing a thread from the stockroom and cutting up bits of uniform to make a new outfit. The results may be weren't the best but you'd put the effort in to show Hux. After using your full allotted time to wash and do your hair you were clean. You made sure to add some products to your face to highlight the eyes, as he had mentioned he loved them about you.
Going to exit your room to find Hux, your smaller stature runs into something. Hux is in the doorway and lets out a little "oomph" as you step on him.
"Y/n what on earth?" he looks down at you in your homemade outfit, sparkling clean. Bright-eyed and looking like an angel.
"So." You stand back triumphantly "not a grease monkey now am it?"
he takes a step into the room, disregarding the package in his hand, his stance to like an animal hunting prey. Licking his lips he places his arms around you drawing close. " Your 100% not, I'm thinking now this is maybe a bad idea."
"So it's not right? Make up your bloody mind man."
"Oh no, I'm rethinking because I don't think, were even going to make it out of the room with you looking like this." Cupping your ass he hosts you up into a fireman lift. Walking to place you on the bed.
"I think then I'm going to need a new uniform," you say playing with his collar.
"I'm sorry for calling you a Grease monkey Y/N"
"Thank you."
"Can we agree on one thing? He drops you on the bed crawling on top of you. "I think you are at your best with no clothes on at all."
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wizardofrozz · 2 years
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Prompt 2: Shapeshifter
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Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark
Word Count: 2,279
Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mention of murder
A/N: There aren’t any pairings in the fic, just platonic interactions. But I’m a little self-conscious of about this fic 😬 so be nice lol
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The man pressed himself against the wall, watching his target laugh loudly with his group of friends. They stumbled, obviously intoxicated, and the man shook his head, realizing how easy this would be. He stepped out of the shadows, his long hair shielding the part of his face that wasn’t covered by his mask. The group of intoxicated men stumbled into an alleyway, their laughter still echoing off the surrounding buildings as he moved closer.
Parts of the group started to break off, wandering in the direction of their homes until the target was the only one left, staggering through the alleyway. The man glanced at the camera on the corner of the building before hurrying after his mark. He approached the target silently, only reaching out when he could smell the stale scent of booze wafting off the target.
           “What the…” the target gasped. The air was forced from his lungs when the masked man slammed him against the nearby wall by the throat. The light over the alleyway sparkled off the metal around the target’s throat. “O-oh my g-god…you’re…you’re the Wi-.” The target was cut off when the man closed his fist.
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Steve’s piercing ringtone jolted him awake, and he scrambled around for his phone, nearly falling off his bed.
           “Hello?”
           “Captain Rogers.” Steve blinked, pulling the phone away from his head to read the caller ID; Secretary Ross’ office number shined back at him, and he brought the phone to his ear again.
           “Secretary Ross?”
           “You need to get eyes of Barnes immediately,” Ross snapped.
           “What? Why?” Steve fumbled around, almost knocking his lamp over in the process of trying to turn it on.
           “There’s been a possible Winter Soldier sighting, and I need to know if it’s authentic,” Ross explained through his teeth.
           “Uh, yeah, okay,” Steve mumbled, sliding out of bed.
           “Stark, Romanoff, and Wilson should be meeting you somewhere in the compound. They should’ve been alerted as well,” Ross added. “I expect a call when you’ve got an answer.”
           “Yes, sir,” Steve hummed, hanging up before Ross could say anything else.
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Pounding on his bedroom door yanked Bucky out of a dead sleep, the first he’d had in a long time. He stumbled out of bed, throwing the door open, a sleepy scowl etched deep into his face; the expression fell away when he was met with a small group outside his door. Steve stood at the front in his pajamas, Nat behind him wrapped in a fuzzy red robe, Tony looking grumpy in a t-shirt and shorts, and Sam shirtless at the back of the group. All four of them looked surprised when he answered the door, leaving an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
           “Did I miss the midnight invitation for a party in my bedroom?” Bucky snapped, scratching at the short stubble on his chin.
           “Uh,” Steve started, blinking lamely at Bucky. “S-sorry.”
           “I’m going back to bed,” Sam yawned, wandering away from Bucky’s door.
           “I second that,” Nat sighed, wrapping her robe tighter around her chest and following Sam. Steve and Tony shared a look before Tony sighed and disappeared down the hall as well; Bucky stared at Steve, trying to understand what just happened.
           “Steve,” Bucky pushed.
           “Sorry, we, uh, got a call from Ross,” Steve supplied, mindlessly scratching at his stomach.
           “About?”
           “There was a report of a sighting of…of the Winter Soldier.”
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The following day, Bucky sat down with Steve and Tony for a virtual conference with Ross; he wrung his hands under the table, trying to avoid fidgeting with his hair or clothes.
           “Secretary Ross,” Tony greeted flatly when his face appeared on the screen.
           “Gentlemen,” Ross grumbled. “Let’s cut to the chase. I need verification that Sergeant Barnes was in the compound all night.”
           “FRIDAY, send Secretary Ross the footage outside Barnes’ door last night,” Tony called, dropping in the chair opposite the screen.
           “It’s been taken care of, sir,” FRIDAY replied after a few seconds.
           “Where was the sighting?” Steve spoke up, resting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
           “New Jersey,” Ross provided, sounding slightly distracted. “There’s no other way out of his bedroom?”
           “No, sir,” Steve started, but Tony cut in.
           “The rooms have windows, but there are alarm systems on them, so FRIDAY would notify me if anything went in or out of the window.”
           “And she can’t be overridden?” Ross raised a brow, watching Tony through his screen, looking for any signs of lying.
           “Look, sir,” Bucky cut in, leaning against the table. “I understand you don’t trust me, period, but I didn’t leave the compound last night or at all yesterday now that I think about it, and I’m also not technologically inclined enough to do anything to FRIDAY.”
           “Every possibility needs to be checked, Sergeant Barnes,” Ross hissed, glaring at him.
           “Yes, sir. I understand, sir,” Bucky replied immediately, sitting back in his chair like a scolded child.
           “I’ll have FRIDAY run a complete system scan and check for any disturbances,” Tony sighed, massaging between his eyes.
           “Good,” Ross grunted. “Sergeant Barnes is not to leave the confines of the compound without an escort until further notice. I would also advise FRIDAY to keep tabs on his every movement in case of a further incident.”
Steve’s eyes scrunched shut, and he bit his tongue to keep from arguing. “Yes, sir.”
           “I’ll be in touch,” was all Ross said before the call ended and Tony, Steve, and Bucky were left sitting in silence.
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Bucky was vindicated a few days later when Ross decided Bucky was asleep in the compound that night. Even though Bucky was cleared to do whatever he wanted now, an anxious hum took root under his skin, leaving him on edge constantly. Steve reluctantly agreed to show Bucky the surveillance video from the incident, but it only made the sick feeling in his stomach worse. Someone was walking around with what seemed to be his face, and he had no idea who it was or why they were doing it.
A few weeks passed with no new sightings, and Bucky started to relax, giving into Sam and Steve’s begging to get out of the compound. The three decided on a bar nearby and agreed to bring Nat and Wanda along for some fresh air. Bucky managed to have a little bit of fun after the last few weeks of paranoia; Wanda sucked him into a conversation about a book she was reading when Nat got up for another drink.
           “Hey,” Steve cut in, startling Bucky and Wanda. “Where’d Nat go?”
           “She went to grab a drink,” Wanda provided, furrowing her brow at Steve.
           “Yeah, like 10 minutes ago,” Sam added.
           “Should we check on her?” Bucky asked, glancing at the slightly crowded bar.
           “Maybe she went to the bathroom,” Wanda provided. “I have to go too, so I’ll see if I can find her.” The three men nodded stiffly, watching the redhead weave through the crowds of people.
           “Thanks, guys,” Bucky sighed, bringing his beer to his lips again.
           “You were turning into a hermit,” Sam snorted, knocking shoulders with the super-soldier.
           “I had a good reason,” Bucky argued, tipping his bottle towards Sam. Steve shook his head, looking ready to add something when horror bloomed on his face, and he jumped from his chair. Sam tried to ask what happened, but he was already gone; the remaining two looked at each other before getting to their feet, following the path Steve had taken. They pushed through two people in their way, nearly running Steve over; Wanda was in front of him with a badly beaten Natasha draped over her shoulder.
           “What the fuck happened,” Sam gasped, shifting around Steve. Nat lifted her head, finding Sam but her eyes quickly flickered over to Bucky, rage exploding from her.
           “You!” she screamed, lunging away from Wanda. Steve sidestepped, catching Nat before she could get to Bucky.
           “What happened!” Steve shouted, struggling to keep Nat caged in his arms.
           “That fucking asshole a-“ Nat stopped, going limp in Steve’s grip as she looked over Bucky again, her face going slack. “But…I just…hold on.”
           “Nat, I didn’t touch you,” Bucky whispered, taking a step closer.
           “Oh fuck,” she breathed, her eyes growing wider at the same time Bucky’s did.
           “We gotta go,” Sam suddenly said, herding the present Avengers towards the door. Bucky stumbled along, barely aware of what was going on as panic set in again; he was pushed down into the backseat of Steve’s car, pressing against Wanda’s side.
           “He was there,” Bucky whispered, staring wide-eyed at the floor.
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Bucky tip-toed down the dark alley, gun at the ready as he checked every nook and cranny, his heart pounding in his chest.
           “Anything yet?” Steve’s crackled in his ear, scaring him, but he didn’t flinch.
           “Nothing,” Bucky whispered back, quickly turning down to check another break in the buildings.
           “Fuck,” Nat hissed through the earpiece. Bucky sighed, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders and bring them down from around his ears, but he was too wound up. He could hear the faint bustle of New York City over the thump of his boots against the concrete; the team got a tip of a sighting in the city the night before and wasted no time heading out. Nat, Steve, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Bucky were spread out around the general area of the sighting, looking for any clues.
           “Oh Jesus,” Clint retched. The faint sound on his dinner coming up made Bucky’s stomach turn, and a shiver ran through him.
           “Clint?” Nat’s yell echoed from a street near Bucky, and he took off running in the direction where Clint should be.
           “I don’t know what the fuck this is, but, uhhh,” Clint panted. Bucky rounded the nearest corner, meeting Wanda and Sam there before heading towards Clint, who was bracing himself against a building, spitting and wiping his mouth.
           “What is it?” Steve jogged towards them from the opposite direction with Nat on his heels. Clint weakly waved towards the break in the alley, refusing to turn around again; Bucky, Steve, and Sam approached slowly, searching for whatever Clint found.
           “What the fuck!” Sam yelled, jumping back into Bucky. Bucky shot him an exasperated look before stepping around him to look, and man, did he regret it. It looked like a pile of clothes at first glance, but the longer he studied it, he noticed what looked like skin catching the light. Bile burned at the back of Bucky’s throat as he stumbled away, horrified, barely making it away from Sam before hurling himself. Somehow Steve and Sam managed to keep their composure as they took a closer look; Wanda and Nat didn’t even bother to try.
           “Alright,” Steve mumbled, trying to hide his disgusted shiver. “Continue the sweep and look for any more of this…stuff.”
           “Great,” Clint sighed, pushing away from the wall he was leaning on. Without another word, Bucky, Clint, Wanda, and Nat took off, desperate to get away from whatever the fuck they found. Bucky tried to stay focused as he moved back onto his block, but he couldn’t get the image of the pile of what he was sure now was skin. He kept walking, checking any place someone could hide, but he was still so preoccupied with their discovery that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. Bucky stopped to inspect the stairs that led down to the backdoor of a building when he finally heard them, but it was too late.
           “I didn’t think you’d ever find me.” Bucky froze. The sound of his own voice calling out to him, taunting him, was stranger and more terrifying than he’d imagined. He slowly turned, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and never letting his guard down. Bucky’s stomach turned as he met familiar blue eyes that he was only used to seeing in the mirror.
           “What…what are you,” Bucky stammered, staring at his own face twisted in a sadistic smirk.
           “Bucky?” Sam said in his ear. “What’s going on?”
           “I don’t really think that’s important,” Bucky’s look-a-like chuckled, lazily strolling closer.
           “Kinda important to me,” Bucky snapped, tightening his grip on the gun at his side.
           “Let me put it this way,” the other huffed. “It won’t matter for much longer.” Bucky was too distracted by the copy of himself walking and talking that he didn’t notice the slight movement of the copy’s left arm. Bucky stared down the barrel of the gun, his blood roaring in his ears as his heart nearly burst through his ribs; he at least had enough sense at that moment to lift his own gun.
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Sam jogged to meet Steve halfway and caught a flash of Wanda’s red hair under the lights at the other end.
           “Hurry up!” Steve yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. Clint, Wanda, and Nat picked up their pace, and as soon as they were close enough, Sam and Steve fell in step. The Avengers were only a few feet from the mouth of the alleyway when the gunshot rang out, quick and efficient like the strike of a cobra. The five skid to stop, staring down at the figure facing them as the figure dropped their arm.
           “Took ya long enough,” Bucky panted, stepping over the body at his feet.
           “Thank god,” Steve choked out, bending to brace his hands on his knees.
           “Let’s go take care of, whatever that is,” Sam offered, taking a deep breath and smacking Bucky’s shoulder as he passed.
           “Nice job, buddy,” Clint sighed, elbowing Bucky before following Sam. ‘Bucky’ stood with his back to them, a dark smile slowly crawling up his face.
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