#I’ve been meeting w my friends out of state | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclsrc · 10 months

Text

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver.

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are).

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases.

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.”

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max.

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest.

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed.

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving.

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?”

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm.

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck.

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up.

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

2K notes · View notes

ranhaitanisgf · 4 months

Note

Can I please request the love at first sight trope and seven minutes in heaven for Mikey :) (just an idea but maybe he sees her forms a crush and stuff then he invite her to a party hosted by toman) also I absolutely love your writing I've been binge reading!

— manjiro [mikey] sano // love at first sight // seven minutes in heaven

☆ ˎˊ˗ hi anon !! thank you for requesting for my event !! i'm ngl i did nawt kno what i was doin w this ... just kinda cranked this out lawl ... hopefully you all will enjoy anyways !! xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.1k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

you are so nervous right now.

“hey, don’t worry about it! everyone’s going to love you!”

“right…” you replied, still feeling nervous as you and mikey stood outside the door.

you had been confused when mikey first talked to you on one of the rare days he came to school, and you were even more confused when he had invited you to hang out after school. you had only ever spoken to him in passing, so when he invited you to go eat out with him, you were sure that he was trying to play you.

at first, you didn’t fall for his wily tricks, even when he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder when he was taking the train home with you, (yeah, you definitely didn’t think it was cute…nope…). you had been suspicious of him, wondering if perhaps he’d been dared to try and get you to fall for him, (unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened).

however, when he confessed to you, things changed.

you hadn’t seen it coming at all, but he casually admitted to having feelings for you while the two of you were walking to get food one day, saying that he immediately had thought you were one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen.

“i’m flattered mikey, but you can stop it now…”

“huh?”

“you’re probably doing this on a dare, right?” you sighed, furrowing your brows. “you can stop pretending to like me now.”

“(y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen in my life.” mikey responded, his face dead serious.

“w-what?! stop! how could that even be true?!”

“it is true. you can choose to not believe me, but i’ll keep telling you until you accept it.”

since that day, you’d been unsure of how to feel about him. you really wanted to believe him and accept that he liked you, but at the same time, you were too scared that he might be trying to prank you. he really did keep his promise of telling you every single day though, which was slowly starting to convince you.

and so, here you were.

he had been bugging you to come to a party with all his friends, saying that he wants everyone to meet the girl that stole his heart, (it was a cheesy line, but it made you feel all fuzzy inside). when you finally accepted the invitation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to back out of this when you saw the excited smile on his face.

“you ready?” mikey asked, bringing you back to the present. he was looking at you with a soft smile, calming your nerves a bit.

“yeah.” with a nod, mikey opened the door, leading the two of you inside to where everyone was. as soon as everyone caught sight of the two of you, they were immediately staring, making you fidget with a lock of your hair as you stood next to mikey. were you supposed to say something?

also, why were they all sitting in a circle.

“mikey, good timing! we were gonna play seven minutes in heaven!” a boy with pink hair piped up, (why was he smiling so much?).

“hah…? everyone here is dudes…” mikey stated, obviously confused. “i thought we were gonna play monopoly!”

“well, you’re right, so you and your lady friend can go first!!” a boy with long black hair suggested, suddenly standing up and walking towards the two of you. “you don’t mind, right?” he asked you.

“uh, i suppose not…” you responded, feeling a bit confused as to what was going on. when you looked at mikey, you could tell that he had something he wanted to say to everyone, but didn’t, instead just staring at them with a deadpan face.

“well, since there’s no complaints, let’s get this started!” someone yelled out, making everyone cheer. without a moment to spare, the boy with black grabbed both of your arms with a gentle yet firm grip, dragging you and mikey towards a nearby closet.

“oi, just whaddya think you’re-!”

“shaddup, mikey, you’ll thank us later!”

before you could even think to question what you had just agreed to, the two of you were pushed into the closet, a click! sound coming from the doorknob, leaving you and mikey in darkness.

“uh…what just happened?” you hesitantly asked. you could hear mikey sighing, beginning to knock on the door. it was to no avail though; they had turned the music back on, blocking out his voice to the outside world.

“buncha idiots…” he muttered. “it’s okay, they’re just playing a prank, so let’s play along!” he said. through the darkness, you could see him sitting down, gesturing for you to sit down as well.

when you sat down next to him, you weren’t sure what to say. you had been really nervous to come inside and meet everyone, but now you were nervous because you were in this enclosed and dark space, very close to mikey, (you weren’t nervous he was going to do anything, you were just nervous that…actually, you’re going to be too flustered if you think about that).

“by the way, (y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“h-huh? why’re you saying that now?”

“well, i haven’t said it today, right?” mikey asked, seeming to be thinking for a moment. “i don’t think so…” your heart was starting to beat faster; of course, he’d been saying that to you since he’d confessed, but being in such close proximity to him in this situation was making you feel more and more convinced of his feelings.

“...mikey, you…” you started, your eyes dropping to stare at your fingers in your lap. “you’re the best person i’ve ever met. i really like you.” you finally let out, shutting your eyes in anticipation.

maybe i shouldn’t have said that…

“woah, seriously…?” you heard him say. you slowly opened your eyes, glancing over at mikey beside you.

he was looking at you with the most childish and excited expression; you could almost see the sparkles in his eyes as his lips were curled into the most boyish and cute smile you’ve ever seen.

“are you serious right now? you’re not joking?!” he asked, his voice shaking with nervousness and excitement.

“no, i wouldn’t joke about that…” you murmured, smiling shyly at him.

he suddenly moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your frame tightly as you pulled you close to himself, his face buried in your neck.

“ahh, i’m so happy right now…” he said, his voice low and soft, (you were trying to not focus on the fact that you could feel his breaths against your skin).

hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around him as well, relishing in the way that he held you a bit tighter, as if he was never going to let you go. it felt like there was nothing that could affect you while in his arms; all you knew was mikey.

“thank you for trusting me, (y/n)-chan.”

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turquoizxe · 10 months

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’

Rating ― Mature (16+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy; can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.”

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone.

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.”

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

ᴛᴀɢꜱ!

@darkphantommagazine

@von-studios

@vickyzangels

@roseluxxx

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rosecoloreddesire · 7 months

Text

Not A Lie ~ Elvis Presley

Summary: You could never imagine THE Elvis Presley to show up in your little diner. How can you tell your parents that…he’s your fiancé??

Note: IM BACK! I’m going to be graduating in February so I’m hoping I can get some writing out! I’m so sorry if this is a bad come back? I haven’t proofread yet! But I think it’s good 💙 missed you all so much!

Warnings: FLUFF!

“Y/N, you gotta stop lyin’! You know how much your daddy loves Elvis!” You huff out as you chase your mom around the kitchen island.

“Mama! Just listen to me! I’m being honest! I am enga-“ she put a finger to your lips as you both hear the front door unlock, opening to your daddy whistling a soft tune of Blue Suede Shoes.

“Not a word in front of him, got it?” You sigh loudly not wanting her to put you down.

“But mama! He’s comin’ ton-“ she cuts you off with an ice cold glare. You finally let it go, walking past your father to your room.

“God damn it all! Why won’t anyone ever listen to me?” The small phone in your room begins to ring, picking it up you sit on your bed. A certain southern drawl cheers you up.

“Hey there, lil’ lady. How’s my girl doin’? I’ll be there soon I promise. My parents are wantin’ us to get together and do some photos here at Graceland for the family album.” He chuckles while you heard his grandma in the back.

“Hi grandma! Um, pictures? Like engagement pictures?” You nervously hum, twirling the phone cord around your finger.

“Well, I did get you that pretty rock on your finger. And I think that means your stuck with lil’ old me, baby.” Your cheeks flush as he lowly whispers.

“I’ll see you soon. Lest your flirtin’ make my face flush!” His giggles are cut off as you hang up. Your face aglow. Your phone rings once again.

“Elvis Presley- if you don’t stop-“

“Elvis Presley?! I knew it!” Your best friend Amelia was on the other line….her screams of joy influence you to push the phone as far away from you as possible. You wince as she continues.

“Amelia Jones! You needa keep it down! What’ll you do if your mama says she won’t be gettin’ you into my mama’s salon this Thursday!” The other line dies down.

“You know your mamas the only one you can actually do my hair and make it look good!” You chuckle as she tries to explain herself.

“Yes! That’s why when I tell you the boy I’ve been datin’ all year and last year is Mr. Elvis Presley.” You state confidently as she squees softly.

“That’s why you wasn’t impressed when we saw him for the first time! You were kissin’ him!!!” Her giggles and squeals made you roll your eyes. Amelia was always into the whole romance and love at first sight tropes in the movies.

“Y/N! Get down here! Your mother and I need to have a talk with you!” You grumble and hope your mom hadn’t told your father about the whole engagement.

“Gotta go, Ames! Bye!” You hung up, smooth your skirt and make your way down the stairs.

“You know the policy we have on lyin’, young lady.” Your daddy was sitting on the couch with your mother.

“Daddy, I ain’t lyin’ to you! I really am-“ your mothers laugh breaks you off again.

“We are supposed to believe that Elvis Presley is coming tonight to meet us after askin for your hand?” She fans herself. Your mom usually was so supportive but you do have to hand it to her. This was kinda crazy.

“I ain’t! He’s really sweet! His mama and daddy are arranging a photo shoot for us to be in the Presley family album! I’m gonna be a Presley, daddy!”

“I wanna believe you but how did you even meet?”

—

“And will that be all for you today?” The man in front of you was clearly flirting as you wrote off his receipt.

“Uh actually this is gonna sound weird but are you an angel?” You rolled your eyes, waving your hand.

“Hm, I’ve actually never heard of that one but I am very aware thank you. Bye!” You spun around on your heel and grabbed a new pad and paper. You fixed your hair in the reflection of napkin holder.

“You handled that well, Darlin’.” You jump a little. The voice was low and oddly familiar. You turned with a flush to your cheeks.

“ yeah well creeps like that don’t like the word no so-“ you paused as you finally saw the person speaking to you.

“It’s a shame cause he ain’t wrong. But he forgot to say you look like a goddess.”

“You’re-“ you stuttered holding your hand to your chest.

“Your future boyfriend I hope.” You must have looked like a tomato with how warm your cheeks were getting.

“Uh- are you serious? Is this a prank?.”

“Here’s my number. Use it wisely.” And with a wink he was gone as fast as he came.

——

“I’m supposed to believe he came to our family restaurant when your mama and I were gone?” You nod desperately. You take your mothers hand and show her your ring.

“Oh my god, Y/N. That’s a real ring! How did you-“ your doorbell is going off before you can explain.

“Do you want to get that, daddy?” You ask softly, praying to whatever god that Elvis was standing at the door. He huffs as he sits up, making his way to the door.

“Afternoon- OH MY GOD. You-“ Your father brings your fiancé into a bear hug. Your father squeezes the poor boy as you giggle. Your skin flushing at the display.

“It’s really Elvis! What in the hell?” Your mom grasps your hands tightly as the boy walks into the house, more like pulled. You giggle as he finally sees you, a bit frazzled. He detaches himself from your father as he makes his way to you. His lips soft against your cheek as your body warms.

“Uh, mom, dad, this is my fiancé.” You spout awkwardly as Elvis slips his arm around you. Your father gleams with excitement.

“I understand why you didn’t ask for my blessin’, son! You can marry my daughter!” You’ve never seen your father so ecstatic in your life. Except the one time he won a ticket to see Elvis. Or the one time he heard Heart Break Hotel on the radio in his car. Huh….you are sensing a running theme…

“I really do love your daughter. It’s jus’ been rough tryin’ to get a time together to meet y’all.” He smiles boyishly at your parents. Your mom still reeling in the fact that you were telling the truth.

“D-did ya enjoy our family diner?” Your mom stutters out. You stifle laugh placing your hand over your mouth. You look at Elvis awaiting his answer.

“Of course, ma’am! Great atmosphere, great food, and even greater waitresses.” He bumps you with his shoulder as you blush.

“Well, don’t be a stranger, Mister Presley! Come on, we were just gettin’ ready for our meal!” Your father pushes Elvis to a chair at the table. You shakily sit next to him as your nerves still haven’t fully settled.

“Why our daughter?” Your breath hitches as your mom starts to plate the food.

“Lord, where do I start? She looks as if she walked right out of a Hollywood movie. An absolute starlet.” Your skin flushes as his hand drifts to your thigh.

“I wish! We met up with some of his Hollywood buddies and they were super sweet! They think Elvis has a real shot of hittin’ it big!” You smile as he laughs. His gaze focuses on you the whole time. How could he have found the most amazing thing to have come out of him having to hide from fans in a local diner? His eyes never leave your lips as you continue to sing his praises.

“I really think it’s a great idea to see you two married! Can you believe it, honey? We’d be related to the Presley’s!” Your dad claps as he excitedly dug into his food. Your mother still seems a little hesitant.

“What’s gonna stop you from chasin’ other girls around town? My daughter hasn’t even dated before you!” Your eyes widen as you take a bite of your dinner. You hadn’t really had that conversation with Elvis yet…

“I’m your first boyfriend?” You wince at his surprised tone. You turned to face him.

“Uh, yeah. I, uh, never really thought about the whole dating thing. Until you kissed me at that charity concert…I-“ his lips are soft against your cheek. Your hand shaking in his hand.

“You don’t need to explain nothin’, darlin’. Thank you so much for the lovely dinner but I best be goin’ soon I only had a it of time to spare.” He began to get up as your father rose from his seat.

“How about you go with him, sweetheart? Your mom and I are gonna have a talk about all this.” You nod, hugging him quickly. You all but ran up the stairs to get away from the tension.

“How cute. Pink really fits you.” Elvis smirks as his fingers traced your bed sheets. You scoff as you pack a small bag.

“I haven’t gotten to change my sheets since I was like 10, E. Give me a break. Do you really want to do this?” Elvis’ hand caresses your face, pushing a few stray hairs out of your face.

“I want you. Every day. Afternoon. And night. You are all I think about.” His voice just a bit above a whisper. Your eyes were heavy as you stare at his lips.

“Can I be yours forever?” His lips were soft as he pulls you close. The kiss was delicate but passionate as he grips your hair slightly.

“If you’ll let me.”

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis movie #rosecoloreddesire #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #50s elvis #elvis x you #elvis 2022 #elvis fluff #fluff

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okay-j-hannah · 1 year

Text

They Kiss You To Escape

Preference

Characters: Tenth Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, Jack Harkness, Rory Williams

Warnings:

Request: “Good night! I love Doctor Who and I really wanted to send you a request about a preference 😁 10, 11, Jack and Rory having to kiss their crushes to escape/hide from someone, please!” Anon

~~~

Tenth Doctor

The Doctor looked so uncomfortable.

He was pressed into the corner of the conference room, unable to escape the chattering of a persistent woman. She laughed ridiculously, shaking her whole body until she was bumping into him. The Doctor shook her off with a forced smile.

(Y/N) watched them from afar, perhaps enjoying his state of panic – very rarely do you see the Doctor knocked down a peg.

Though it was peculiar to see him so resistant of a flirtatious encounter. He was always sweeping strangers off their feet with talk of space and how brilliant he was. But right then there was nothing but strain on his face as the touchy woman sought his arm.

“I should take pity on him,” (Y/N) thought, sipping the remaining of her cocktail and envisioning a list of things the Doctor could do to repay her kindness.

She nudged through the crowd of babbling businessmen and their escorts to reach the corner of the room, starting to hear the high pitch voice of the confounding woman.

“Oh, stop!” she shrieked in laughter, “You couldn’t possibly have anything else to do tonight.”

“W-Well…” the Doctor stuttered, “I’ve got people to see, lords to meet, p-planets to save.” He frantically sought an excuse to escape.

(Y/N) could have sworn she watched the clouds part and sunshine fall on his face as the Doctor spotted her arrival. He practically yelled at her.

“(Y/N)!”

The insistent woman turned brazenly, a hand against her collarbone.

“Hi there,” (Y/N) said brightly.

“Hello, darling,” the Doctor said, pushing to reach her side. “How are you?”

But he didn’t give her a chance to respond as he gripped her waist and pulled her to his lips. He kissed her hard and fierce, leaving no room to question how he felt about her. (Y/N) was shocked into a standstill, hands braced against his arms as he leaned into her hungrily.

It was all-consuming, his fingers digging into her sides, holding her in place as he claimed her mouth.

The pair of them were so absorbed in each other’s embrace that they completely missed the departure of the flustered woman.

It might’ve been minutes later that (Y/N) pushed against the Doctor’s arms, gasping for air. “Woah…”

The Doctor instantly pulled away, believing that he had overstepped beyond repair. He rubbed at his face, fingers lingering over his lips as he fumbled over something to say.

“I… you – I’m sorry, (Y/N),” and he looked it too. “I couldn’t get that infernal woman to leave and then you… I didn’t mean to come at you like that.”

(Y/N) had a hand to her chest, chasing the rapid beating of her heart. “Um…” she gulped, “I didn’t mind.”

His head was downturned, but his eyes flew to hers. “Sorry?”

She shook her head, “I didn’t mind.”

He got a wonderous look on his face. And (Y/N) had the sneaking suspicion there was a reason he didn’t fancy going out with the stranger.

Eleventh Doctor

His mind was reeling, jumping from one scenario to another. It was making his jittery movements more erratic, his fingers dancing about as he saw his thoughts before him.

He was starting to sweat with the anticipation, “By George,” he muttered, “I’m in a right state.”

“Sorry?” (Y/N) asked, lounging near the tardis. It was stuck in a quantum lock by a devious friend of the Doctor’s, one that peevishly sought to jest his companions with silly requests.

The Doctor winced at her words, on the brink of bolting, “I’ve got to do something.” He rubbed his fingertips together, inching towards her like every step was crunching over glass. “And in all my years, it’s comparable to some of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done.”

“Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked, standing to meet him, “You’re a bit jumpy.”

He gave a breathy laugh, “I’m just twitterpated.”

She scrunched her brow, “Okay,” she eyed his nervous gaze.

He licked his lips, “See the problem is I’ve made a deal with the magistrate,” he gestured towards the palace behind them, “And there’s no way we can unlock the tardis without me meeting the terms.”

“Alright,” (Y/N) smiled, “What is he asking you to do?”

“Something I’ve given a great deal of thought to,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “And my friend finds it appropriate to make it a requirement for our escape.”

“Can I help?”

He laughed again, high and nervous, “Bear with me.” He reached her standing figure, “This isn’t quite how I imagined it, but… right.” He went to cup her face with nimble fingers, fear lining his gaze.

(Y/N) grew worried, reaching to grab his arm, but before she could voice her concern, the Doctor put his lips on hers. Gentle and apprehensive and sweet at first, he pulled away just an inch – only to plant a stronger kiss right after. It was as if he wanted to capture one memorable kiss before the possible rejection that might follow.

He had to pry himself away, stumbling back and ashamedly looking at her as the tardis doors swung open as if on command.

“I’m sorry,” he said, twisting his fingers.

She stared at him with wide eyes, “You daft old man.” His continual look of shame brought a smile to her face, “I would have agreed if you just asked.”

His posture straightened out, surprised, “You… you didn’t mind.”

“Doctor,” she laughed, “I’ve known about your little crush since our first adventure. You’re so terribly obvious.”

He started to smile, “I always thought myself mysterious and debonair.”

“And who was I to crush that confidence.” She went for his hand, “You would have thought he asked you to wipe my memory or send me away with how scared you looked.”

“You happen to be a very scary person.”

“Said no one, ever.”

He shrugged, giddily enjoying his hand in hers, “We’re holding hands.”

She laughed, “Well spotted, Doctor.”

Jack

They raced down the corridor, blaring red lights illuminating their path. The terrifying sound of dozens of army boots pounded away behind them.

Jack grappled for her hand.

“Just around this corner!” he yelled over the sirens, “There’s gotta be a way out.”

“What if there isn’t?”

“Don’t think like that,” Jack cried, swinging around the corner.

They came face to face with a high security door. It was sealed airtight, powered by an electrical panel.

“Dammit,” Jack ground out, pounding on the metal door, once – twice. “Right.” He tore at the electrical panel, revealing a mess of buzzing wires. A few began sparking as he tugged at them, whipping his hand away at singeing his fingers.

“We don’t have a way to open it,” (Y/N) muttered, feeling her gut sink at the realization that they were trapped with the inevitable chasing after them.

Jack rolled up his sleeves, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He gave her a wink, “I told you I’d get us out of here – a few wires aren’t going to stop us.”

“But you’ll be electric-“ She was cut off with a scream as Jack reached in and yanked a fistful of wires out of the box.

His teeth clenched, his body seizing as volts of lightning shot through him, effectively stopping his heart. He flew to the ground, singed and smoking, completely still as the life left him.

(Y/N) cried out, falling to her knees, “Jack,” she gasped. “Oh my god, Jack!” She reached for his chest, ignoring how the door unsealed itself, snapping open with a hiss.

“Come on,” she said shakily, placing her fists over his heart and beginning to push down. “I swear to god, Jack, if you die because of opening a bloody door…”

She cupped his face, kissing him gently and blowing air into his lungs. He didn’t stir for another minute, the taste of salty tears on his lips as she began to cry above him.

It was not how she envisioned their first kiss.

“Please,” she begged, “Please, wake up.”

And with an almighty breath, Jack sat up, crying out, “Woah!” He planted his hands on his chest, wincing, “Did you give me CPR?”

(Y/N) had her hands over her mouth, staring at him in horror.

He was touching his lips then, “Were we kissing?” He gave her a raised eyebrow, “And I missed it?”

She smacked him across the arm, “Why are you acting like that? You just died, Jack!”

“Yeah, about that…” he climbed to his feet, “I sort of can’t – you know – die.”

(Y/N) glared at him, “Would’ve been nice to know beforehand.”

He shrugged, giving her that charismatic smile, “I have a flare for the dramatic.” He took a step towards her, “Now, about that kiss.”

“You mean the CPR I was giving you to save your life.”

“Potato, patato,” he grinned, “I think we should do it again sometime.”

She shook her head, unable to contain her smile, “Unbelievable.”

Rory

They walked as inconspicuously as possible, not wishing to draw the attention of the crowds. Rory had her wrist in his hand, paving the way through the masses. They tried to hide their growing looks of panic, taking short, shallow breaths.

“Do they know we’re here?” (Y/N) asked quietly near his back.

He swallowed, “I hope not.”

“Very reassuring,” she muttered, whipping her eyes around. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

He led her towards the nearest corridor, checking to see if any uniforms were waiting just around the corner. They moved quicker, jogging around to find the exit. It was just another day in the life of adventure with the Doctor.

And what could be more brilliant than getting lost on a foreign planet without any idea where the tardis was.

“Do you hear that?” (Y/N) tugged on Rory’s hand, pausing their steps.

He scrunched his brow, “Reinforcements.” Heavy footfalls seemed to come from all around them. “They must be changing shifts.”

(Y/N) spotted a helmet turning the corner on their left, “Incoming.”

Rory cursed, looking towards the right and seeing the same thing. Soldiers were winding their way through the traveling people.

“What do we do?” (Y/N) whispered, feeling Rory’s fingers fidget against her wrist. “They’re going to spot us for sure.”

Rory looked unsure of himself, pulling (Y/N) towards him, “Do you trust me?”

“What?” She eyed his apprehension, “Of course I trust you.”

He gulped, pressing her flush against him and waiting for the soldiers to be mere feet away. Finally he took a shaky breath and twisted her around, pressing her into the wall behind them. He slammed his lips onto hers, shielding as much of her body with his.

She was hesitant at first but went along with the plan as soon as her shock wore off. She wound her fingers into his hair, keeping him against her mouth. They melded together, hot and heavy against the wall as groups of people wanders past.

It was a lifetime before they pulled apart for some air.

“Well, that was…” (Y/N) started off.

Rory blinked, all in a daze, “Yeah…”

She bit her lip, “I think we’re in the clear.”

“Right, of course,” he cleared his throat. “But when we get back…”

She raised her eyebrows, “Pick up where we left off?”

“Yes, please.”

~~~

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saintmagx · 9 months

Text

✨ Cruel Summer ✨

pairing: Solo Sikoa x reader, Jey Uso x reader (briefly)

AN: Literally making this for myself, so if I do ever end up publishing - enjoy I guess? 🤪

w/c: 1198

⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity(if you squint), jealous Jey, toxic behaviour, bad/embarrassing writing ⚠️

doesn’t follow a specific timeline however it is more recent, total divas making a return.

✨ I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard - he looks up grinning like the devil ✨

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

“I dunno Trin, the thought of being recorded for 12 hours of the day, like, I enjoy my privacy”.

“Think about it as an opportunity, having the fans see a different side of you. Showing them how hard you work your ass off.”

Trinity is my best friend, she helped me out so much when I joined the WWE 6 years ago. She and her husband Jon took me into their family and helped me adapt into the crazy world of being a WWE superstar.

“Just think about it is all I’m saying. It’ll be fun” trin says nudging me.

Ever since I moved here, we have had a weekly tradition of Wednesday Girls Night, its just snacks, Chinese takeout, and movies, it’s just time for us to catch up and wind down from the gruelling travel schedule.

Right on queue at exactly 11:30pm Jon walks in the door.

“Times up ladies” he says, which is swiftly followed by two pillows being thrown at his head.

“Come on uce, you know better than to interrupt gIrLs NiGhT”

The couch beside me dipped and once again I felt the heat from the body of Josh Fatu, my one weakness. His hand falls to his side and creeps closer to me caressing the side of my bare thigh. You see what people don’t know is Josh and I have an ‘agreement’ - no feelings, just sex and friendship, and it was going great until it wasn’t, feeling were caught, specifically by me and I’m stuck between a rock and hard place as I’m falling hard for him, but I cant let this agreement end because I would rather have him this way than not have him at all.

“Spoke with Joe today, Hunter is bringing him up to the main roster, can’t wait to have my other younger brother fighting by my side”. A third pillow is thrown at Jon from the direction of Josh.

“We are twins, and you are only older by 8 minutes”.

Never a dull moment where the Fatu boys are concerned.

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

First day of filming (TD Interview Segment)

Okay, so lets start with a basic intro okay? Ready, go!

The room falls silent the light shines bright on me, I have at least 6 pair of eyes on me, goading me into starting. Gosh why did I sign up to do this!!!

Hi there, my names yn, I am currently on the Smackdown roster and I am the current WWE Women’s Champion.

I’ve been with the WWE for 6 years now and I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for my adoptive sister Trinity, she took me under her wing and I’ve been there ever since. As you guys know – and if you didn't know, the accent should be a huge giveaway, I’m originally from the United Kingdom, I came to the states with a dream in hand and no one there to help me through this bumpy ride. I can never repay her or Jon for the way they have accepted and welcomed me into their little dynamic. Although, travelling the world with Jon and Josh is hard work, they boys are chaotic, I don't know how Trin managed to do it herself for so long!

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Friday Night Smackdown, Atlanta Georgia, 8 weeks before Survivor Series

Walking into the arena for Smackdown I get a message from Hunter asking to meet him in his office. A mixture of anxiety and curiosity fill in the pit of my stomach. In his office I’m met with the familiar faces of Jon, Josh, and Joseph, smiling I look over to Hunter who invites me to sit.

“I got your message, what’s up?

“We have been toying with the idea of a cross brand rivalry - for Survivor Series. Now that Joe has come up to the main roster, we think the Usos and Solo v The Judgement Day would pique interest from the WWE universe.”

“So why am I here?”

“Demi is the Women’s World Champion and part of Judgment Day; it would only seem right that she faces the Women’s Champion”.

Without hesitation I accept. Hunter debriefs us on how it’s going to play out over the next few weeks. We will have to be on both RAW and Smackdown over the next few weeks, so looks like it will be me and the brothers travelling together since Trin is exclusive to Smackdown!

Gorilla, few hours later (TD segment)

Tonight, I have a singles match, however Demi has to interfere and cost me the match – thus starting our road to Survivor Series.

I see Hunter in his usual place over at the screens with his headset on talking to Randy Orton, Randy spots me and immediately comes over to me.

“There’s my favourite girl.”

“I wouldn’t let your wife hear you say that Randy”.

Randy Orton, he is exactly how you would imagine him to be, a cocky little shit, flirtatious as hell, a menace but he has a heart of gold. Many nights we would hit the gym together and training with him before his injury really improved my in-ring ability. He is another one I would call my family away from family.

A familiar scent fills my nostrils, Josh. He stands next to me wrapping his arm around me pulling me closer, as if to stake his claim in me.

“I’ve been looking for you, come on let’s go”.

I smile apologetically at Randy, he just waves me off laughing, as much as I say people don’t know anything about me and Josh, it’s not to say there isn’t rumours flying around, people have their own take on it, and that’s okay, we just laugh it off.

Trin and Jon (TD Interview segment)

“You see yn and josh think they are so slick hiding their little late-night rendezvous” says Jon

Trin sighing, “I just wish they would bang their heads together and realise they are meant to be. Think of the double dates we could finally have Jon.”

Jon’s laugh fills the small interview room, “yeah it would be sweet, and yn is already like family, it would be an easy transition.”

Away from the cameras

“What were you talking to Randy about?” Josh quizzes

“Nothing, you came in and ushered me away before I could say anything.”

“Good, I don’t like it when you get attention from other guys, just me, okay?”

“I think you’ll find Josh that I can speak to who I like”. I say frustrated with his behaviour.

You see as much as I love Josh, this, this right here the way he wants to have his cake and eat it too drives me insane. I so much as look at another guy and he is right there to remind me I’m his, yet he can look at and speak to as many girls and I can’t say shit.

“I’ve got a match to get to, I’ll see you later J.”

“Goodluck out there baby girl, not that you need it.” Before he can come any closer to me, I slip out the room and let my frustrated sigh out. How much longer am I going to keep torturing myself.

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jaegersdevil · 7 months

Text

like real people [megumi fushiguro]

megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: love can still find you even in your darkest hour. w/c: 1.7k a/n: megumi and reader are in their early/mid-twenties. this is a little different from anything else i’ve written in terms of the language, but i think i'm happy with it. i'm a bit scared to post this. i hope it makes sense, and if it doesn't, tell me, please :) warnings: angst, idiots in love, both parties emotionally hurt by past relationships, insinuations of past relationship abuse (megumi), ooc megumi, it's 4am idk please let me know.

“Is it so wrong to wish to love and be loved in return?”

No words came before you. To say you weren’t expecting this conversation would be a lie — it was a long time coming. After the party, after you had blatantly brushed him off in front of his friends, Megumi couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for why you did what you did. After months of dancing around each other, why couldn’t you commit to what you wanted when it was so very clear, Megumi?

“Megumi,” You weren’t oblivious to his lovelorn stare or his fingers fidgeting.

“Please,” He begged, stepping closer to you, his hands clasped before him.

You screwed your eyes shut at his vulnerable state. Was it easier to remain ignorant of your apparent and lengthy tension? Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty about the impulse to leave.

But, standing before a man who had a hard time sharing his emotions and choosing to ignore them rather than help? You wouldn't do such a thing.

“It’s not wrong, per se, Megs,” You started, eyes trained on the hardwood floor, never meeting his pleading ones. “Maybe naive.”

A sharp intake caused a shiver down your spine. “Naive?”

You chewed heavily on your bottom lip and couldn't keep your tears at bay. "I just learned you planned to get engaged when we met, Megumi. What was I meant to do? I didn't want your friends to think I was exploiting your emotions. How I never knew until now..."

Megumi sighed and looked away, shaking his head. He wanted to say that meeting you saved him. How you dug him out of the ground and breathed life into his delicate lungs brought him back to life. If you had never met, he would still be six feet in the dirt, a ghost of who he once was. Do people love others who have been damaged so severely that the idea of love itself is considered terrifying and not comforting in the slightest?

"You know they wouldn't think that of you. And I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed and afraid. I know that isn't a good enough excuse for you because you've been in my life for so long, but it was better to keep it quiet. I don't know!"

He tried to keep his voice steady, always one to hold back his true feelings until he was behind closed doors — and even then, he would force them back inside.

But, as he looked at you, Megumi believed the possibility of admitting he loved you was far closer than anticipated. However, the fear you wouldn’t reciprocate burned in his bones so profoundly he feared they would turn to ash inside him. All he wanted was to love and be loved without the devastating consequences he had suffered before — if love without pain existed.

Nonetheless, Megumi couldn't seem to shake the feeling of emptiness that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Will we ever be normal? Will we ever kiss like real people do? Will I ever get to hold you without the looming fear that you’ll just pack up and leave?” He thought out loud.

A flight risk. You gave him a bitter smile and nodded.

“That’s all I am to you? Someone that you’re scared to be with because I’ve never ‘stuck around’ for anyone else? Do you ever wonder why I left them?” You raised your eyebrows in question. When Megumi didn’t answer, you finished. “Because they were assholes who just wanted someone to use, and I was at their disposal.”

Megumi grimaced at your choice of words but understood. It had taken him almost a year, but he finally understood your greatest anxieties. “I would never use you.”

You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I know that, but I'm still paranoid. Leave before you get left, isn’t that what they say?”

The room was silent for a moment while you both collected yourselves. In contemplation, Megumi ran his hands over his dark hair, and you picked at your nails.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi mumbled, wiping at his cheeks where stray tears had left salty trails. “I’m sorry for offending you. I didn’t mean it like that. My anxiety is not on you at all; it’s not your fault, and I’ll apologise for the rest of my life if that will make up for my sheer ignorance.”

You shrugged half-heartedly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. It’s not true. Love is humanity’s greatest desire, and you are entirely valid for wanting such things, especially after your ex..." You narrowed your eyes at him softly.

Unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. His past relationship was calamitous, and her name was never spoken amongst his friends again after they found out what had happened. She was referred to as ‘she who must not be named’ in his friend group, but that was the only joke. Nothing she did to Megumi was laughable.

The kitchen light was flickering, you noticed. You'd have to change the bulb.

“I bet you regret meeting me,” He smiled fleetingly. You looked at him quizzically. “Anyone else wouldn’t be insulting you in your kitchen.”

“I'll never regret meeting you, Megumi,” You took his hand in yours. “And you didn’t insult me. Yes, it hurts, but it’s a harsh truth I have to swallow. I have to understand that not everyone is out to get me. It'll take some time, but I wish to get there someday.”

“And I'll help you believe that, okay? I won't leave you. Not now, not ever, because you are my favourite person, darling. And should I ever leave you, let me die the most painful death because you deserve a great deal of love — more than I could ever give you, but I will try my best, alright?”

You nodded, reeling with the weight of his words. He spoke with such comprehension it had you reeling — had he ever confessed his feelings for someone like this before? So thought out and with a pleading look in his eye that made your chest hurt?

Instead of wondering about him, you pulled Megumi closer by his jacket collar, which you realised he never took off when he got to your apartment. Pushing the jacket over his shoulders, you placed the garment on the kitchen counter. Your tear-stained cheeks were glossy under the yellowing ceiling light, and Megumi pulled you back to him, running his fingers over your face to wipe away the streams.

A switch flipped, and suddenly, it felt like the world would end if Megumi didn't tell you his deepest longings. He would lose you if he didn't express how much he had come to care for you. You couldn't take chances in a world full of Jujutsu, especially when the one you loved was tiptoeing the line of death every day.

“I don’t want to not be with you, and it was never my intention to insinuate that. I have a lot of love to give, but I’ve given it to the wrong people in the past who never acknowledged or appreciated it. But I’m ready to give it to you,” Megumi muttered. It required abundant courage to say it, but Megumi was glad he didn’t hold back once it was out — his father would be disgusted if he saw his son now.

The room's atmosphere had changed dramatically, and all hostility once felt in your stomach had dissipated. This was a time of reassuring each other that their greatest fears would not trouble them as long as they were together.

“I adore you,” Megumi whispered, his heart beating out of his chest. “And I’m not just saying that because of our argument. I’m telling you that I never meant for us to end; I was just getting started with you when I walked through that door tonight. Never mind if you brushed me off at some stupid party.”

Your face heated with shame at the memory. “I'm sorry, I panicked.”

Megumi nodded in understanding. “I know. And I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be on your side, always.”

Lifting your head from his chest and resting your finger on his lips, you shook your head. “My turn.”

Megumi’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he nodded.

“Enough consoling me, okay? You need to know that you’re the one for me, too, so you don’t spiral again and start doubting my love for you and your own for me,” Megumi flushed. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, and no amount of scepticism would deter me from you because you’re all I want. I love you, okay? I will live and die for the moments we share because I treasure them the most out of everything I do. You are love, and I want to drown myself in you for the rest of our lives if you let me.”

It was silent. Megumi’s heartbeat was so quick he almost couldn’t feel it. You love him.

You ignored his blank stare and continued. “You don’t have to say it yet, but I know you do. And if it turns out you don’t love me as much as I, you, I will live on my own for the remainder of time because I know that I had the most incredible love in the universe with you, and I would be content with that. Nobody else could make me feel the way you do.”

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and then sighed. “You mean so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t find a way to tell you yet, but I will. I know it in my soul.”

“You already have,” You hugged him tighter, and Megumi rubbed his large hands up and down your back.

The kitchen light had stopped flickering.

“Why can’t we have a relationship like real people? Because I’m starting to think we’re living in some sort of hallucination together,” You mumbled, giggles slipping from your lips.

Megumi’s chest vibrated with low laughter, but the action rattled his bones. “We’ll figure it out. We're not like real people anyway.”

—

playlist: like real people do - hozier — this is me trying - taylor swift — labyrinth - taylor swift — snow on the beach - taylor swift (w lana del rey)

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #megumi x you #megumi angst #— ann writes!

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kenslilove · 2 months

Text

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ A little tied up, Cupid?

ft. Kisaki Tetta x Shuji Hanma x fem!reader

prev. A valentines gift for my beloved @shunsuis 💖🎀✨ pookie you do not know how excited I was when I saw your name for this secret Cupid event! I’ve been wanting to write shuji and kisaki together for sooooo long and this gave me the perfect opportunity! I hope you enjoy it, and that it’s everything you wanted 💋 kissing you <33

W. 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI! threesome, shibari, bodyworship, praise, everything in front of a mirror, oral (fem!receiving), a little bit of breast play ~

wc. 1k ish!

an. This secret Cupid event was hosted by the @enchantedforest-network !! I’m so grateful for this server and all the lovely friends I’ve made through it, plus all the fun events we do hehe! It’s been a blast gifting my pookies things!! Okai, enjoy!

This needs to be a little tighter.” Shuji’s voice is murmured up against your earlobe, making goosebumps rise along your naked skin as Kisaki pulls at the rope in question. It causes the knot holding your wrists together to tighten, and makes you let out a soft, sensual sigh.

“That’s it~” Shuji’s voice holds a playful coo, something that borders condescended but it makes you shiver, makes flush appear along your cheeks and chest. “Our baby likes it nice and tight.”

“Hm. Just like her pretty cunt.” Kisaki’s words slip out so casually, but they leave an imprint on you, making your pussy flutter around nothing, making slick start to build up between your lips. Kisaki places a kiss on your forehead, looking back at Shuji, who leaves kisses along your shoulder blades, before moving so you can finally get a look at yourself in the full length mirror.

The black and red rope sits taunt along your flesh, a makeshift harness encircling your chest. It makes your breasts pop, skin bulging just the right amount under the tension of the ropes. The ropes continue over your ribcage and tummy, a knot sitting perfectly over your clit while the rope tucks between your pussy lips.

The red there has already turned crimson due to your slick, and it makes Kisaki hum.

“Beautiful.” He states, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose as he presses two fingers against the knot on your clit.

Finally you look away because you have to gasp, the sudden pressure making you jolt, body jostling against Shuji. You whimper, you can’t help it. With Shuji’s warm breath on your skin, your flushed, naked and bound reflection, Kisaki’s steady pressure that leaves tingles up your spine but it’s just not enough friction. It’s frustrating and overwhelming and all too good—

“Shhh, quit your whining doll~” Shuji, only after he leaves a few hickies on the back of your neck, joins Kisaki in front of you. His grin is wide as ever, eyes gleaming with their usual mischief, but with added pools of swimming lust. He admires their handy work on you, how the ropes alone have worked you up to this needy, whining mess.

All for them. Just for them.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Shuji sighs, lovestruck and even a little dramatic. It makes you all the more flustered, a heat seeming to swim under your skin and threatening to make you squirm or hide under their gaze. Kisaki agrees, a silent agreement that turns his normally serious face into a grin. “Darling.” His voice is commanding, making your eyes flutter before you meet his gaze. “Why are you trying to hide, hm?”

You can’t muster a response. Right now, words are lost to you and the boys know it (and love it). Kisaki simply clicks his tongue and he’s quick to take Shuji’s spot behind you. With ease he pulls your bound body into his lap, and with a firm grip he holds your jaw, brings your face forward so you have to look in the mirror.

“Look at you. You’re perfect.”

“Mhmmmm…” there’s a drawl in Shuji’s voice as he sinks to his knees, making sure your full body is in view for you in the mirror. He grabs each one of your ankles and pulls them apart, despite the way your eyes start to widen and your thighs start to tremble slightly. “Don’t hide from us doll. We wanna see what’s ours.”

“That’s right.” Kisaki’s voice is so low and close to your ear it makes you slouch into his chest, goosebumps forming along your skin as his lean fingers start to massage at your jaw. They work your muscles until your lips part from relaxing, and he’s able to slip a finger between your lips to press down on your tongue. “See how pretty you are, just how good you are, all for us?”

“Only for us.” Shuji reiterates, leaving kisses along the inside of your thighs.

Your head lulls into a nod, lips latching onto Kisaki’s fingers so you can suckle on them. Your fingers brush against his warm, toned abdomen behind you and he smiles, lips pressing against your temple. “Gunna let us take good care of you now baby? Gunna let us treat you how you deserve to be treated?”

And you nod again, this time your tongue smoothing over the pads of his fingers as you mumble a “mhm” around his skin.

Shuji doesn’t waste another moment, he’s always been the most impatient out of the three of you. His tongue follows the path of the rope, starting at your belly button and following the silky material, all the way down to your clit, through your folds. It has you sighing in relief, along with Kisaki who stares at Shuji from over your shoulder.

“Sweetest fucking pussy.” Shuji all but mumbles against your lower lips, not even bothering to move the rope aside as he starts to eat at you messily. His tongue shuffles your folds apart, lips latching onto your petals so he can be sloppy with it, leaving behind streaks of drool and your pussy swollen from his suckling.

Kisaki pulls his fingers from your mouth so they can both hear how you moan for them. How your head falls to the side as you whimper, how your hips start to subtly roll as much as they can while bound towards Shuji’s devious mouth. And Kisaki takes it all in, doing his best to ignore his hard-on that gets grinded against every time your hips squirm and lift. He focuses on your breasts instead, cupping the flesh that's already pushed up due to the ropes and pinching at your sensitive nipples to get more of a reaction out of you.

“That’s it dove… let yourself enjoy this…” Your brain is already hazy, and his words only allow you to fall deeper into the pleasure. “Let us take care of you darling, you don’t need to do a damn thing.”

“Expect cum on my tongue~” Shuji speaks through a snicker, his teeth grazing at your clit so you yelp a little. His grip on your thighs tighten as you attempt to squirm, but Shuji presses his face further into your cunt to keep them separated. He’s barely audible at this point with his lips latched to your clenching pussy. “Cmon dolly, lemme taste ya~”

“No need to rush her, Shuji.” Kisaki speaks as if annoyed, but he isn’t. Of course he isn’t, how could he be when you’re gasping and crying for “more Shuji, Please Kisaki–!” His smiling lips stay plastered to your skin, leaving love marks wherever he can reach while his eyes stay glued to how Shuji works pleasure and slick out of your core.

“We have all night to worship our Darling~”

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elliesmistress · 2 months

Text

W/n; I cried way too hard making this

Sorry if the grammar is off I couldn't be bothered fixing it. 3.1K words

WARNINGS: This does have intense topics about PTSD, Trauma, etc. Please read at your own risk and all of these are just my OPINION.

Let’s talk about trauma! Before I get into this I will say this; I am not a phycologist, nor do I have proper training, this is a subject I am very passionate about and something I have studied under my own terms/things I’ve learnt from previous therapy sessions and group meetings :)

Ellie’s trauma and my opinion on it.

The first thing we will discuss is the “window of tolerance” (something I learned in therap) . Everyone has got a window of how much they can tolerate during a stressful situation or a situation with a lot of emotions. If someone is in a “hyperarousal” state that person can become aggressive, agitated, hyper vigilant, or have risky and destructive behavior, this is what we call a “fight response”. If people are in a “hypo arousal” state this is when the person can become more depressed and anxious, getting put into a “freeze response”...

Ellie’s life throughout part 1 of The Last of Us -

During the show we are met with Ellie and her mom, her mom had unfortunately been bitten and was killed soon after. This is where we are met with the first PTSD for Ellie. The first person she built “a bond” with is our mother, naturally we are very social creatures so not being able to build a bond with a parent will cause problems later on in life such as; having abandonment issues, having trouble to connect with other people because she has this fear that whoever she gets close with will die or leave her.

During the game we get to meet Marlene who was a close friend of Ellie’s mom, and had raised Ellie throughout her child-hood/early teenage-hood, this is where she got paired with Joel and Tess, in this scene is where you can see her “PSTD state” being triggered she didn’t want to go with Joel or Tess, because Marlene was someone who she created a strong bond with. Before we get introduced to Joel or Tess, Ellie had a friend called Riley who was someone she also created a bond with, Riley was someone who had joined the fireflies and escaped from FEDRA. Ellie had assumed that Riley had died from her random disappearance, Riley had then shown up to see Ellie and they went on an adventure together before Riley had left permanently to join the Fireflies, during this time Ellie had her first kiss with Riley and shared some very important moments with her. During this time infected had gotten to Ellie and Riley and bit Riley and Ellie, this was where we got to see the some-what first mentioning of Ellie’s immunity to the cordyceps- During this time of Riley and Ellie being bitten Riley had told Ellie that they should “wait it out” and “go insane together” Ellie was immune, she didn’t know that and nor did Riley, the saddest thing about the first stages of infected (called runners) is that they are aware that they are infected but they aren’t able to control themselves, so Riley had gotten infected and started turning but Ellie wasn't turning, so with that being said Ellie would’ve had to kill Riley so she wouldn’t continue to turn-

–

Joel and Tess had taken Ellie as “cargo” but obviously they all had created a bond with each other, mainly Joel with Tess as they were very close with each other. We are then met with another problem, Tess had gotten bitten and was already starting to turn, Ellie figured it out pretty quickly after Tess was acting weirdly and obviously she had created a bond with Tess so she didn’t want her to leave them/die, this is when we are met with Ellie’s PTSD, the fear of people leaving her….

Sam and Henry, she is also met with Sam and Henry who are two brothers who they met in Pittsburgh; Sam and Ellie were similar in age so they had created a strong bond with each other. Sadly Sam had gotten bitten on their journey, Sam had asked Ellie “what are you afraid of” to which Ellie replied with “of ending up alone” this is when we saw Ellie in a more vulnerable state, her PTSD side showing through more. This is when we look back to her mom, Sam, Marlene and soon enough Sam, in the show Ellie had tried to give her blood to Sam trying to save him from the infection. In the game, Ellie wasn’t aware that he was infected until Henry had asked her to go get him so they could all have breakfast, Sam had tried to jump onto Ellie to “infect her” this is when Ellie’s flight or fight had kicked in and she was trying to get him off of her, Joel had tried to kill Sam but Henry had shot near him so he wasn’t able to…. Henry in the end shot Sam, obviously upset he had then killed himself. (they really meant it when they said the last of us)

The next scene we will jump to is when Ellie and Joel had their argument about Ellie trying to run away, she had done this to avoid the pain of being abandoned again. We are met with a somewhat angry Ellie who had found out that Joel wanted to get rid of her, yet again another trauma response to her previous traumatic experiences .

When Ellie had said “I’m not her you know?” that had really hit a spot for Joel because of his past traumatic experience of losing his daughter Sarah. “I’m sorry about your daughter Joel but I have lost people to” to which joel replies with “you have no idea what loss is”

“Everyone I have cared for either died or left me, everyone fucking except for you” which is yet again another trauma response from losing her mom, Riley, Sam, Henry etc. From her point of view she is basically saying that she has somewhat formed a bond with Joel and doesn’t want him to leave, if he had left this would’ve caused some bigger problems for Ellie in her early developing stages of life.

I won’t get too much into the situation with David but a quick overview of what happened, David was someone who Ellie had met whilst trying to hunt because Joel had injured himself pretty badly and she was trying to keep him alive. David was a pedophile the easiest way to say it, during this time Ellie had gotten onto a machete and killed David, Joel then had to get her off because she was so stuck in this fight response in order to protect herself from David.

It was definitely a big time for Ellie when Joel had gone to comfort her because she was in such a vulnerable state and because he was there for her it immediately strengthened their bond together. The next scene we will talk about from The Last of Us part 1 is the giraffe scene, this is where Joel had found a giraffe and encouraged Ellie to come say hi to it which also created a stronger bond with him because it was his father figure side coming out. Once Joel had taken Ellie out of the hospital he had continued to lie to her because he needed his heart to be fixed, so to protect her from the truth that they COULD’VE made a cure he lied and said that there was a lot of other immune people and that Ellie wasn’t the only one

The last of us Part 2 - Ellie’s story

The beginning scenes we are met with Ellie listening to music and then Joel comes in to talk to her. Ellie had known from her gut and the way he was saying everything that he was lying but she also wanted the truth to come out.

Joel had played a song that is a song that Ellie will come back to a lot during her trauma and other experiences because it was him trying to continue to form a bond with her and he is basically now Ellie’s dad, so this is definitely something she will hold onto for a long time.

The next scene we jump to is when Joel is getting tortured by Abby and she sees this is when we see Ellie going into a dorsal/hyper-aroused state and her fight and flight instincts kick in. Her first immediate reaction to this is to fight, Nora and the other guy pin her down so she isn’t able to move putting her into a more hypo-aroused state and the only thing she can do is to shake and scream, this is also a prime example of her attachments to Joel not once in her life did she ever beg, with David she would always insult/rile the other person up but when it came to Joel this was the only time that Ellie had actually ever begged someone to not do something.

Once Abby has killed Joel (for all the people who have played the game) you can hear a lot of ringing and you're not actually able to hear anything that the other people are saying. This is a good example of the parasympathetic nervous system, Ellie was being held down and her heart rate was increasing but the body knows you are at risk of having a heart attack so it’s the body's way of calming yourself down so that doesn’t happen. This is also when her freeze response hits, it’s definitely a prime example of the “fawn” response which is when your more in a people pleasing mindset and start to accept everything for what’s happened , not to mention that this is also a PTSD response where her mind is reminding her body of what it felt like to lose somebody, her “abandonment trauma” even if he wasn’t intentionally trying to abandon her it’s still a traumatic response.

We then see Ellie on her bed sitting down whilst Tommy is knocking at her door, this is a good example of being in a hypo-aroused state which is when her body started to shut down more, accepting everything that has happened, being super brain foggy and not being able to tell the difference between reality and dream (dissociation). Another thing to note is because Ellie wasn’t able to do anything in the situation of Joel’s death she definitely entered a freeze response which is where her entire nervous system decides “hey, let’s check out” and she won’t be able to process that trauma because she’s still grieving and is still in a hypo-aroused state.

When Dina and Ellie go out across Seattle you will find a music store to which Ellie goes into and finds a guitar and starts to play the song that Joel had played to her in the beginning of the game, this is the closest thing she has to Joel still. This is what we call “resourcing”. Dina had found out that Ellie was immune and one of her responses was that “I can’t make you immune either” This is a statement that Ellie has a lot of guilt over because she isn’t able to make Dina immune.

Ellie had found another guitar and went straight to that for resourcing a way to feel closer to Joel.

Ellie’s 15th birthday

This is another very special moment for Ellie which is where she and Joel spend time together on her birthday. Ellie had found a rocket-ship simulator in a museum and her and Joel go into it and Joel pulls out a music tape which was yet again another very important moment for her as she felt super close to Joel and was in a relaxed mindset

Ellie had stumbled across a painting that has the fireflies symbol on it saying “LIARS” this is another cool example of how trauma can leak into the best memories we’ve had.

Finding and Killing Nora

This is another scene where she had some-what turned into Joel, with Ellie being in a hyper-aroused state. Where she was agitated, aggressive and wanted to hurt the person who had helped kill Joel. The scene after she had killed Nora and she was outside the building Dina and Jesse where in, she was shaking which was her flight response kicking in, she was getting ready to run away from danger to protect herself. Dina had looked after Ellie still very shaken up and crying, we hear that Ellie says “I don’t want to lose you” she genuinely meant it and she was definitely very guilty about what has happened so far, another really big bonding scene for Dina and Ellie.

The hospital scene where Ellie runs away and leaves Joel a note During this scene we get to see Ellie figuring out the truth and that Joel has been lying to her, even though she KNEW he was lying she was trying to get him to admit it.

“You don’t get to leave me a goddamn note” which is something that Joel says, Ellie then pushes him away because she’s angry and isn’t okay with the situation because she has been trying to get Joel to talk to her for so long and admit the truth. There was definitely a lot of anger and guilt on Ellie’s side because she was probably thinking about what COULD’VE happened to the world if she was given the chance to be used to help make a vaccine

When she killed Owen and Mel

This was definitely a big trauma response to when she had lost Joel going into that hyper-aroused state, fawn response and guilt, she had killed Mel who was pregnant, she was definitely thinking about Dina in that moment because Dina was pregnant and not only that but it’s also because she had killed a pregnant women (nobody likes her anyways so it doesn’t matter) and an unborn baby we see Ellie not being able to breathe correctly and the ringing in her ears again.

When Abby is about to kill Dina

This is definitely more on Abby's side of the story which is something we’ll get into if you guys want me to write up about Abby’s side of the story, Abby had been put into a flight or fight response and Ellie had said “she’s pregnant” to which Abby replied back with “good” and then Lev joins in and says “Abby” abby then looks up at Lev and Lev isn’t accepting of the situation so she pushes Dina away and chooses to let them go.

When Ellie has the panic attack at the farm

When Ellie tries to get the sheep into the barn and the lamb knocks over the farming tools we see a very faint flashback to an image of Joel getting tortured which immediately puts Ellie into a “hyper-arousal” state, she immediately starts to hyperventilate. The door closes and Ellie is immediately met with the ringing in her ears again the same ringing she heard when Joel died and killed Mel, she tried to run down the stairs and get to Joel, but the door was locked. This is a great example of what a PTSD flashback can be like, when she heard the lamb knock over those tools her mind brought her back to the traumatic experience of Joel’s death.

Now for the best part, when Ellie finds Abby tied up- Ellie’s original plan was to kill Abby and or Lev because she’s in so much pain and she’s still grieving- Throughout the game if you go into her drawing book you see that she isn’t able to draw Joel’s eyes anymore because she has “forgotten” what they look like… When Ellie sees Abby picking up Lev you can see that Ellie is then starting to realize that Abby is “Joel” and Lev is “Ellie” you can see in her eyes that she doesn’t want to kill and she is starting to forgive, when we get the last fight scene we are then met with another slight PTSD flashback of when Ellie sees the blood on her T-shirt, she immediately goes into a fight response and wants to hurt Abby for what she’s done. Ellie is starting to kill Abby by this point and we are then met with another slight flashback of Joel, with the same ringing in her ears, she was starting to go into a dissociative state again. Ellie knew at this point that if she didn’t let Abby go she probably would’ve lost Joel forever so she decided to let her go. When Ellie says “go, just take him” I don’t think she was talking about Lev in this situation but taking Joel with her so the pain will stop.

When Ellie arrives back at the farm it is shown that Dina isn’t there anymore, she immediately goes back to the guitar for resourcing and helps her nervous system calm down. The ending of the game we are met with another flash back with Joel and Ellie talking, to her this probably would’ve put some peace to her grieving still, at the very end we can see that Ellie puts Joel’s guitar down and in my opinion for Ellie this is her going; “Okay, what I’m doing isn’t working. Fighting my way out of the situation isn’t working, it’s not helping me, it’s not helping anyone. I need to let you go” and so she let him go.

In regards, I have not yet done Abby’s side of her PTSD but I will get into that if anyone would like me to and I’ll reupload it as Abby’s side and Ellies side- For anyone still wondering I do think Ellie was in the wrong, Abby had let her and Tommy live because she didn’t want to be like Joel, she didn’t want to be worse than Joel. Instead of Ellie staying and learning how to deal with her trauma she tried to get revenge on the person who had hurt her most (Abby) Ellie had killed around 150 people throughout Seattle to try to get to Abby, this is why when people have severe PTSD like Ellie it affects relationships like with Dina, Dina left in results to Ellie not working through her PTSD. Ellie had chosen revenge over Dina which is a massive sign of her PTSD and not being in a great headspace- Although, I do feel really bad for Dina, unfortunately there isn’t a lot about Dina’s backstory etc. But from what I can gather from the game Dina was constantly in a “fawn-state” where she agreed with everything Ellie had said/done because she didn’t want her to leave or whatever.

Ellie was in the wrong, Abby wasn’t :)

MY SINCERE APOLOGIES TO ANYONE WHO WAS SOBBING THROUGH THIS I WAS TOO BUT IT NEEDED TO BE TALKED ABOUT

I will tag people in the comments coz it's not working for some reason rn

#ellie imagine #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #the last of us #joel miller #joel and ellie #trauma #ptsd

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gloryofroses19 · 2 years

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Plight of the Pilots

Main Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x wife!reader

Additional Pairings: Hangman x trouble, platonic!Phoenix x reader

T/W: Allusions to sex

“Hey Rooster, I’ve been meaning to ask.” Hangman began causing every pilot in the room to brace themselves. They were dispersed across the training classroom trying to enjoy a few free moments in between the cramming and planning for the mission. “Where’s that pretty wife of yours?”

Rooster took his time drinking from his water bottle refusing to take Hangman’s bait as he locked his phone. “She’s visiting her parents.”

“What? And leave her husband alone before the biggest mission of his life? And here I thought nothing, but God could separate you two.” Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin had been subjected to the lovefest that was the Bradshaw couple on numerous occasions. And every time he made his displeasure known, apparently even when she wasn’t there.

With his signature cocky grin, Hangman exuded an air of nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair. “Well maybe it’s not such a big deal considering you’ll be riding the bench Roos.”

Meeting Hangman’s gaze, Rooster replied in a dry tone. “Not that it’s any of your business Hangman but her dad had surgery.”

“Wait, shit, really? When? She didn’t tell me.” Phoenix broke in. Phoenix had met [y/n] early on in her relationship with Rooster when Phoenix joined Rooster in a San Diego post. The women had clicked instantly and Phoenix now considered her to be a sister, which she was forever grateful for between her own two brothers and the Navy’s gender inequality.

Rooster gave Phoenix a reassuring smile. “It was minor gastric surgery for his GERD yesterday. Don’t take it to heart, I don’t think she wanted to bother you because of the mission.”

Drowning out the rest of the conversation, Rooster placed his hand over his heart as he thought about his wife. Rooster hated how Hangman words put a familiar ache in his chest. When he and [y/n] were apart, he often had a feeling of longing in his heart that was dulled by their calls and texts. And if given the time, [y/n] would come along or at least visit when Rooster’s posts allowed it. But on the mission that sounded impossible and forced him to see Maverick, Rooster couldn’t ask her to choose between him and her parents. He would have to make due with calls and pray for a miracle that would allow him to survive and be held by her again.

“Yes, actually I was one of her bridesmaids.”

“Oh, is she the bride in the photo in your locker?” Bob chimed in once again causing everyone in the room to consider again if Bob truly was a stealth pilot.

Hangman’s eyebrows raised as he gazed at Phoenix in wonder. “You have a picture of Rooster’s wife in your locker? Wow, Phoenix, never would have pegged you as the type to steal your friend’s girl.”

“Shut up, Hangman.” Rooster replied heatedly, rejoining the conversation.

“Ok, now I’m curious about this photo.” Coyote stepped into the middle of the room, severing the glaring standoff between Rooster and Hangman. The tension between the two hadn’t dissipated in the following days after their blowup during the briefing. Every pilot in the room, including Captain Pete Mitchell who reentered the room, had been running interference between the two lieutenants ever since.

“You’re not seeing the inside of my locker, you creep.” Phoenix stated as she tied the arms of her flight suit around her waist.

“Hey now, -” But Coyote’s retort was cut off by Rooster holding out a paper pulled from the left breast pocket of his flight suit. Taking it from his outstretched hand, Coyote was met with the image of Rooster and assumedly his wife, if the wedding gown gave any indication.

Murmurs of praise began to fill the room as the photo was passed around. Rooster nodded and smiled but it began to slip as Hangman ignored Yale’s offer and instead moved closer to the bronzed brunette.

“Aw, he keeps the photo near his heart. What, Bradshaw? Hoping she'll ask the Wizard of Oz to lend you some courage?”

Rising from his seat, Rooster faced the blonde. “Maybe the wizard will decide to gift you a heart so you’d be able to understand the experience of being loved.”

Sharing a look of distress, Payback moved forward to place his hand on Rooster's shoulder as Fanboy softly asked, “How long have you been together, man?”

Catching sight of Maverick watching him while holding his wedding photo, Rooster was reminded of the conversation he shared with [y/n] the night of his fight with Hangman. He never intended to cry while speaking to [y/n] but he wasn’t embarrassed that he did. The fear of crying in front of his wife was lost years ago after he showed up unannounced reeling from a nightmare months into their dating.

So after the tears subsided and he relayed what had happened, Rooster listened to what his wife had to say. It wasn’t advice that he could think of himself but hearing it from her made it real. Hangman and Maverick’s opinions didn’t matter, the past doesn’t have to be forgotten but it has to be learned from. And the best way to do that is to be the better man and show them how ‘by the book flying’ has its own value within the ‘Maverick’ style.

With a final withering glare at Hangman, Rooster let the tension leave his body as turned to Fanboy. “We dated for a year and been married for almost two years.”

A sigh of relief was felt by everyone as Maverick cleared his throat. “Bad news kids, we’re being rained out, or more accurately winded out with the dust storm. Training will be postponed and I talked Cyclone into giving you the rest of the day off with promises that you’ll ace the offensive and defensive exam tomorrow. We’ll be meeting at the beach outside the Hard Deck at 08:00.”

Though confused by the meeting place, cheers and shrouts erupted across the room. Rooster Bradshaw was the only pilot not joining in as he preoccupied himself with packing his things. Shooting a text to his wife, Rooster factored that with the four additional free hours, the Bradshaws could have a nice long FaceTime and also find time to cram for the exam.

“Here, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to lose this.” Accepting the outstretched photo, Rooster gave Maverick a final nod before dashing out of the room to pick up the incoming call.

“Hi baby, I think we need to have a quick intervention about your kleptomania of my belongings.”

Grabbing his sunglasses from the place on his chest, Rooster smiled at the lithe tilt of [y/n]’s voice. “What stuff?”

[y/n] rolled her eyes as she was both amused and endeared at her husband for playing dumb. “Oh, first it was my old college t-shirt, then my chapstick and chargers and now my favorite mug!”

“Wait, how do you know I have it? You left our place before I went on this mission!” Rooster never slept well without [y/n] by his side but the night he spent alone in their bed when she left to her parents’ was more tortuous than any night he had to spend alone during a mission.

“Because I’m standing in your bungalow looking at it, Bradshaw!”

Bradley chuckled listening to her faux annoyance before stopping short in the hallway as he words settled in his ears. “You’re where?!”

“Surprise baby, hope training ends quickly because I miss you.” [y/n] teased before ending the call leaving Lieutenant Bradshaw to ignore Hondo’s shout of “no running in the halls”.

[Bonus]

Worried about Rooster’s quick exit, Lieutenant Natasha Trace knocked on his bungalow door. Hearing no reply but instead the scrapping of furniture against the floor, she knocked again. “Rooster! I know you’re in there! Just answer me so I can tell your wife you’re at least alive!”

“Goodbye Phoenix!” Rooster yelled out as he stopped kissing her, allowing his minx of a wife to begin to place open mouthed kisses up his neck.

Removing her lips from the spot behind his left ear that left him trapping her between the wall and his body, [y/n] called out to Phoenix. “I appreciate it Nat, but I think I got it under control.”

“[y/n]? Oh my god…!” Walking away from the door, Phoenix joined Bob, Fanboy and Payback who were expectantly waiting.

“He okay?” Fanboy asked as Phoenix laughed. “Yeah, but I pity the pilot living next to his bungalow.”

The sound of feminine laughter from within the bungalow had the three male pilots turning to the window. But they all quickly turned away as the action allowed them to catch sight of Rooster’s tanned broad bareback with a pair of arms and legs wrapped around him.

“Guess he won’t be joining us for study group!”

“I’m the pilot next door to him!” Bob exclaimed, cutting off Fanboy.

With a bark of laughter, Payback clapped Bob on his back turning the man away.

Passion of a Pilot is the sequel to this piece

A/N: Feedback is always welcomed! And a massive thank you to everyone who’s read, liked, commented and reblogged my other works! Also, kudos to anyone who may have realized that while all my Rooster imagines are stand-alone pieces, they can be read as a series and more so, there are Easter eggs within each of them of the other imagines/possible future works.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick x reader

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emberfrostlovesloki · 7 months

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Life Can Be Terrible, but at Least You're In It [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: This is a mix of two of @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute writing challenge dialogue prompts. I’ve mixed the two prompts: “Do you believe in Fate” and “This was way too cliched” to write this fic.

Category: Angst/Comfort/Smut

Word Count: 9.2K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, U.S. police, hatred/violence against a religious group, light drinking, mention of self-harm (cutting - healed scars and one instance of open scars in the past), brief mention of childhood abuse, sex (oral -- fem and masc receiving, p in v).

A/N: Oh boy, I have lots to say. To start, this is another @imagining-in-the-margins inspired fic for her Meet Cute writing challenge. Moving on from that: first off, this is an 18+ story, minors DNI. I love engagement, but if you’re a minor this is not for you. Thank you for respecting this boundary. Second, this turned into a bit of trauma dumping for me. I’ve been having some thoughts about my past choices and decided to write them out with Hotch as a character (you know he’s a great listener.) Third, this is my first time posting smut, if it’s not great, please forgive me. I hope to get better at it as I keep writing for Aaron. Last, this turned out wayyyyy longer than I anticipated. As I’ve stated before, I find it hard to characterize Hotch if I’m not writing a ton which is evidenced here.

Please, please, please read the content warnings. If reading about scars and past self-harm might trigger you, please pass this one by. If you are thinking about engaging in self-harm, please reach out to a loved one or someone you trust. You deserve support. If all else fails, here is a support number you can call to get some help: Self Harm Crisis Line.

On a more positive note, If you enjoy this fic, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated. I hope you all have a great night.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/f/a_ = your favorite author

_y/f/f_ = your favorite flower

_f/c_ = your favorite color

Aaron was nervous about tonight. It was the first time that y/n was coming over to his place before a date. Normally he would offer to meet her at her apartment and they they would go out from there, or just hang out around the warm space doing something relaxing like cooking dinner or watching one of their favorite movies or TV shows. But last Thursday she had shown an interest in seeing his place and honestly, he didn’t have a valid excuse for why she shouldn’t come over. He kept his space neat and clean, he just thought that it didn’t have that much personality, but it would have to do and he knew she wouldn’t judge him if his taste was metrosexual. y/n had given her care and affection to him, not his apartment.

He hadn’t meant to have feelings for his newest agent. In fact, he made it a point to not fall in love with any of his agents or the women at the bureau as the idea of mixing work and pleasure felt all too unsure. If something went bad, or the relationship faltered, the fallout to the team would be immense, and he didn’t want to risk his own career for the sake of his team. However, when y/n had hastily been added on after a case that required a domestic terrorist and cult specialist, y/n had joined the team for what Aaron had assumed would be just the one case. He was hesitant to add someone new, but Strauss had him cornered on the issue and he agreed because he didn’t have a choice. He was weary of y/n -- not willing to trust someone he hadn’t vetted or already knew. However, y/n had sat back and didn’t assume a commanding role at all during the case. She paid attention to the facts and then looked at them from her lens of expertise. When she needed help she had asked JJ or Emily, and one time when it had only been him and y/n at the precinct, he had asked, “How are you feeling?” y/n had looked up and faced the intensity of his gaze and said, “I’m a bit lost, to be honest. I didn’t know it was going to be like this, but I think I’ve found some things that match the preliminary profile that would confirm the unsub was the leader of a religious cult with white Nationalist ideologies.” Hotch nodded. He might have been weary of y/n but at least she was honest and hadn’t done anything foolish or detrimental to the team yet. He pulled his eyes away from her gaze and moved closer to her saying, “Show me what you have?” He could see her physically relax as if she was expecting a reprimand instead of him wanting to listen to her, and he wondered if this was the natural response he got from most people who didn’t know him. At this, his internal monologue answered, “How can people get to know you, Aaron? You don’t open up.” Hotch pushed the thought aside and nodded that he was ready to hear what she had.

y/n observations had been instrumental in finding the unsubs and his compound's location. y/n just didn’t know how to slip her information in with the current profile. When the case was finished, Aaron sincerely extended a hand and said, “Thank you for your help, y/n, your insight was needed in solving this case. I may call on you again if another case like this comes to our team.” y/n had taken his hand and given in a firm shake, slightly awed by what she assumed was praise coming from someone as important and well-known as Agent Hotchner. She had replied, “It would be my honor, Sir.” With that he let the woman leave the tarmac. Once y/n was inside the bullpen, she checked to make sure Agent Hotchner wasn’t nearby, and she approached Emily, who was packing to go home. Emily looked at her and smiled, asking, “What’s up y/n?” y/n faltered for a second before saying, “Is Agent Hotchner always that, intense?” Emily smiled softly and replied, “Yeah, pretty much.” The brunette added, possibly because she was working through her own feelings for the team's enigmatic leader, “But he’s a good man and a good leader. In the end, he puts this team above everything else.” y/n blushed, realizing this was more than just a simple observation about Agent Hotchner. At this point, Aaron returned to the bullpen after calling Hailey to let her know that he was back and would be home that evening. He nodded at Emily and when she nodded back, y/n couldn't help but turn and see who Emily was looking at. Once she realized it was Agent Hotchner she snapped back to looking the other way; something Aaron hadn’t missed.

Aaron had called y/n for two more cases over the next three and a half months. y/n was a quick learner and during the next case, she was more prepared and tried to participate with the team more, willing to offer a comment that she thought would be useful. She still stood in the background most of the time, but it was clear she had improved from the first time she was on the team. When y/n and Derek were standing by the coffee pot at the local precinct, Morgan said, “y/n, I notice you’re a lot more on top of things this time. You’re doing a good job, that’s not always easy on a team like this.” y/n smiled and replied, “Well I did sort of research the team after the first case. You know not like stalking you or anything, I just read over a few of the previous major cases and stuff.” Derek nodded his approval and said, “Well it looks like the work is paying off.” While y/n thanked Derek, Aaron was standing a few feet away in the hallway and had heard the entire conversation. It wasn’t uncommon for people who spent a brief time on the team to do this. He got emails all the time from those who had had their brief stint on a case asking for a transfer. He also got emails from agents that had never set foot in the bullpen and to those he sent an automatically generated reply and then he would delete the email. Those who had worked for the team before might come back for a case, but rarely did he find them improved. Aaron realized that this felt callous maybe, but it was his job to have a cohesive team. A team that worked together in the worst possible circumstances and he wasn’t going to throw that away just because someone wanted to work with him or the team. However, Derek was right and he took a moment to look over at y/n wondering if just once, he was going to be proven wrong.

The third case Aaron called y/n into was a bad one. A group of domestic terrorists were kidnapping, torturing, and killing men from Middle Eastern countries, particularly those that were influential in the Islamic religion. The police were stumped, but y/n immediately said, “This is probably extremism based off of post-9/11 sentiments. The two-year anniversary is coming up and this could easily be someone affected on the ground or someone that got sent back from Iraq during Desert Storm.” The New York Police had a lot of opposition to the idea, but Aaron was aware that they would be very biased in their opinions on the matter as it was so close to home. He assuaged their fears, but later he pulled y/n and Spencer aside and told both of them to keep running with y/n’s initial theory. As it turned out the call was coming from inside the house, or rather the police station as the unsub was one of the officers on staff at the station. He had spiraled quickly as the team got closer and closer to finding him. As a last desperate act, the officer, Monroe, had found another victim and pulled them to the station, threatening to bomb a religious building in the city and shoot the innocent victim if the BAU didn’t find someone else to blame for his crimes in an hour. y/n had been in the lady's room as this unfolded in the main lobby, but she heard the gunfire and quickly and quietly moved closer. She overheard the last of the unsubs plan. As Spencer tried to talk the man down, y/n had slipped her sidearm out of its holster and removed the safety. She looked into the mirror that showed the main room to pinpoint the location of Officer Monroe. For a moment before she made the final move into the open space, she looked to the side and caught Hotch’s eye. He gave her a minuscule nod, telling her to go ahead. Aaron jumped and pulled Spencer to the ground and the millisecond they were both in the clear before the unsub could figure out what was happening, y/n shot the man’s right hand which was holding his sanctioned firearm, and then y/n shot his shoulder, fully incapacitating officer Monroe. When this was done, Derek rushed forward and pulled the unsub away from the victim. Emily and JJ moved toward the victim and after she had re-engaged the safety and put her gun away, y/n helped Hotch and Spencer to their feet.

Aaron looked over y/n for signs of shock or distress given that she had just been in a highly dangerous position and that she had just shot a man twice. He didn’t see any of those signs in her as she let go of Spencer's hand and moved toward JJ and Emily to provide some help with the victim who was now in hysterics. Instead, Aaron saw a steely calm resolve in y/n’s demeanor, indicating that this was hardly the first time she had been put under this kind of pressure. As Hotch moved toward the cuffed unsub he noticed the clean shot to the hand and shoulder, not meant to kill but incapacitate the unsub. Officer Monroe was screaming a stream of obscenities and racial epitaphs at anyone in earshot but mostly directed at the victim and y/n. Aaron and Derek roughly grabbed the man’s arms and moved him to another room. As they walked, Aaron turned to the man and said, “Shut up, or I’ll wait to call the paramedics until it’s too late to save your hand.

A few hours later after the unsub had been transferred to the hospital in custody he overheard some of the officers speaking negatively of the team, and particularly of y/n who had been the one to originally spot the ‘bad apple’ among their ranks. Aaron was overly familiar with the police and justice system and he knew that the police unions and members were a big boys club where they would do almost anything to protect their paychecks, reputation, and each other. Bitterly he thought, 'Well if you’re so concerned, maybe stop perpetrating injustice.’ As Aaron entered the room with the officers he realized that y/n was in the same room speaking with JJ. The officers had been speaking just loudly enough for y/n to overhear their comments. Something in Aaron twitched uncomfortably. Maybe it was the fact that y/n wasn’t even a real member of the team and was being villainized, or the fact that there was nothing he could do to stop the officers from their conversation. When he passed by the men he frowned at them, and for a moment they grew silent as he passed. As he approached the two women, they made space for him to stand, and he turned his gaze to y/n saying, “Good shooting today. Especially given the fact that you only had that mirror to guess your angles and distance. A lot of innocent people would be dead if it hadn’t been for you.” As much as Agent Hotchner’s complement burned her insides in a pleasant way, she replied in a controlled manner, saying, “I was just doing my job, Sir.” Aaron nodded slightly and he intentionally caught her gaze and when he was sure he had it, he looked over to the men who had been making vitriolic statements toward her. y/n followed his eyes and when he was looking at her again she just gave a small shrug of the shoulders, as if saying, ‘Yeah, I heard, but what can you do?” This response tugged a small smile from him, and he cleared his throat and turned to JJ to ask her a question about the media response. Although y/n and even Aaron might not realize it, y/n had passed most of his internal tests for the Agents he allowed on his team.

When y/n received an email from Hotch asking her to meet him at his office two days from now, she worried that something had happened. That she had made some kind of error. y/n arrived at the Bureau at the designated time and knocked on the door that was slightly ajar. Hotch called her in and said, “Take a seat, Agent y/n.” y/n did as asked and felt an uncomfortable churning in her stomach. After a moment of silence, y/n couldn’t take the anticipation anymore, making the first rash move she had while being around the BAU team and Agent Hotchner in general. She asked, “Have I done something wrong Agent Hotchner?” Again there was a lingering silence that felt like it lasted ages before Aaron replied, “If I sent you a transfer request to the BAU to join my team, would you accept?” The words took a moment to register, and y/n’s eyes went wide. It took all her strength from not letting her jaw drop at the very suggestion. Needing another moment to let the words process, she gave the throw-away comment, “Sir?” Aaron knew she had heard him and if there was one thing about him, it was that he didn’t repeat himself if he knew the other party had heard him. Even for someone as new as y/n. There was yet another silence and finally, y/n had the brain function to say, “Well if that transfer request were to happen, then I would have to have the sad and uncomfortable conversation with my own unit chief and let them know that I would be accepting a new position in the Bureau.” Hotch caught onto y/n’s hypothetical language but could see in her eyes that she would accept his offer. He cleared his throat and pulled an unnecessary piece of paper in front of him for some reason, moving his eyes to the random form in front of him. He looked back up and there was that kind of shocked look that people got around him sometimes. It was odd for him to see this one y/n’s face, but he couldn’t blame her. Offers like his came once in a lifetime. Less than that really. He gave her one last look before stating, “You’ll receive an email from me on Monday.”

The transition from the terrorism unit to the BAU was good for the team as a whole. Having a new set of eyes on the cases and a new dynamic shook up the team in a way that reinvigorated their brains. y/n wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes and she owned up to them. Hotch reprimanded her like he would any old or new member of the team. With time she became an integral part of the unit. And in that time Hotch couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It wasn’t like a magnet or love at first sight; he was far too cynical to believe in things like that, but Hotch had paid attention to her in a way that he hadn’t with the other team members. Maybe it was because he hadn’t needed to train and mentor a new member of the team since Emily had joined and he had told himself, ‘There isn’t a valid reason for you to not pay closer attention to y/n.’ As it would turn out, this would be a recurrent theme with him and his thoughts toward y/n.

The first time Aaron knew he was in trouble in regard to y/n was after she had been with the team for a few months. She had started to do this ritual where after each case when each member of the team had gotten home, she would text them all individually simply asking, “Are you doing okay?” Or some variation of that simple, yet loaded question. The first time Aaron had received that message he was confused for a second, but simply responded, “I’m fine.” To which y/n had simply replied, “Good.” The second time it had happened Aaron realized that she was being very intentional with this message, both in its simplicity and when she was sending it. Often after a case, even up until the team had arrived back at the emotions and adrenaline ran high, either because of the excitement or sheer rush of feelings that could overwhelm someone when dealing with such difficult circumstances. But getting a message like that after a few hours, after getting to a safe space and the real underlying emotions had a chance to set in allowed the team members to give an honest response - not one based off of heightened states. Similarly, the simply worded message allowed for a range of responses from a two-word sentence to full-fledged conversations if wanted or needed. After two more cases, Aaron indulged in the possibility of opening up.

Hailey had recently left him and y/n was the only one who seemed, even if not directly relating to his recent separation, to provide a space for him to open up. He replied, “I’m home safe. I have some conflicting feelings about the outcome of this case. I don’t feel the closure that I sometimes do when we finish with a case.” Aaron sent the message and wondered if this sounded desperate? If his own personal experience was on clear display, and if it was, how _y/n_ was going to respond. He didn’t have to wait long as his phone pinged and he read y/n’s reply “It’s good to know your home. Would you like to talk about the case? It was a rough one, even by the team's standards.” Aaron slumped down onto his couch letting out a long breath. If y/n had read deeper into his personal life, she hadn’t highlighted it and was still providing space for him to continue talking either about what this was really about, or the case itself. Aaron realized that he needed to take a deeper look at himself if a case and Hailey leaving was having such a profound impact on him. He realized that y/n’s checking in was very likely a way that she coped with the horrors she saw on the job, and he didn’t want to burden her with his personal problems along with the darkness that their work included. He typed out, “No. Not really,” and sent that message out to the ether. Aaron closed his eyes as he waited for a response. It came in a few minutes, and he looked at his phone. The message from y/n read, “Okay. Take care of yourself, please.” Hotch’s heart gave a tiny tug that she would say something so candid and caring toward him. He typed out, “Thank you, y/n,” and his thumb ghosted over the send button before he changed his mind and deleted the message and typed out instead, “See you on Monday, y/n.” Aaron realized that if he sent the other message the hint of feelings that he was just becoming aware of might bubble up bigger than the tiny drip they were at now might emerge. Hotch stood and undid his tie and the buttons on his shirt. A last ping of his phone made him look at it one last time with tired, blurry eyes. The response read, “See you Monday, Hotch.” Aaron clicked his phone off as he pulled off his shirt to go and take a hot shower. Again there was that nagging tug at his heart because in her letting him go for the night, she was also trying to give him what he wanted, space.

But texting wasn’t the reason that he was now straightening the pillows on his couch and, God knows why, moving into his bedroom and smoothing the sheet and comforter on his bed. He didn’t expect them to end up there at the end of the night, in fact, he expected that y/n would go back to her place and he would stay here, missing her. Anyway, he did it just in case. As he reflected back to the moment that had really made him start having serious feelings for y/n was when she called him and used his first name for the first time. It had been a bad case. A case involving kids being killed and manipulated by the unsub. After not taking the deal with Foyett, Aaron’s brain constantly swirled with thoughts of his son, and any case involving kids made him tense up and made him question his choices. Anytime he had interacted with the children who had been affected and traumatized by the unsub he saw Jack’s face there. He was overwhelmed with emotions, anger, fear, and sadness. It was all too much for him. When the team arrived home after the case and he had made his way to his apartment he fell into bed exhausted. He had forgotten that y/n would text and he was even more surprised when he was woken by his phone ringing. He clicked answer and pulled it to his ear. With a gentle voice, y/n had said, “Hotch, Aaron. Are you going to be okay?” Hotch’s sleep-addled brain took a moment to register his first name on y/n’s lips, but the feeling it provoked was still surprising. Not that he was unaware of his growing feelings for her, just that he had been suppressing them; holding them tight to his chest in his innermost being. He realized after a moment that he hadn’t responded to y/n’s question and finally, he said groggily, “Sorry, I was just taking a nap.” There was a pause and then y/n replied, “No, I’m sorry. I can let you go.” Without even thinking Hotch with a note of desperation said, “No, please. I, I’d like to talk.

Hotch couldn’t see it, but on the other end of the line, y/n moved to her couch and sat down, doing her best to be present with Aaron through the phone. She could tell that this was different. He was being real with her. This wasn’t, Agent Hotchner, leader of the most important team in the FBI, this was just Aaron. She took a moment to think of what to say. She knew what this was all about and decided to share honest thoughts and said, “Hotch, you’re a good father.”

Hotch blinked surprisingly at y/n’s choice of words, and the honesty in them. Incredulously he replied, “On who’s authority?” There was a sigh on the other end of the line and he wanted to hear what _y/n_ was going to say. Her response was, “I mean, I’m not a parent. Maybe it’s not my place to comment on parenting, but I see how you interact with Jack. When you’re with him you give him everything that’s in you. You don’t even notice that you’re doing it Hotch. And yeah, nobody’s perfect, not even you, but when you’re with him -- it’s all I can see. You’re doing the best with what you have, financially and emotionally and that’s all anyone can ask for. People like to say that you can give a hundred and ten, a hundred and twenty percent to people and relationships, but I just don’t think that’s possible with people. And in our line of work, it’s hard to give seventy percent to anything other than the job. But, Jack, Jack always gets a hundred percent from you.” y/n realized that she was being highly personal with her words, to her boss. She stopped what might have been a rambling mess of words and bit the inside of her lip. Maybe she would get a real reprimand from Hotch for this. He had corrected her before in his stern authoritative manner, but he had never really been mad at her. She also tried hard not to think about the fact that she wanted to give him a hundred percent too. She knew she couldn’t have that. She could never have that.

In the lingering silence between y/n’s comments, Aaron closed his eyes and tried to see it from her point of view. Was she really looking at him that closely so that she could catch all of these things? He knew she was speaking honestly, she really spoke from a place of untruth, and she did that only when she had to on cases. He wondered if people ever threw her honesty in her face. As someone so closed off, it was hard for him to believe her in a way. With a hint of hesitation, he asked, “Do you really think so?” A second later, y/n said, “Of course. Of course I do, Aaron.” He relaxed further in the bed as she used his first name again. It sounded so lovely coming from her. They spent another half hour talking, more about the case than his parenting, and when Aaron hung up, he felt decidedly lighter than he had when he had originally come here.

The next Monday, when Aaron found a quiet moment in the office where the rest of the team wasn’t paying attention, he moved to y/n’s desk and she looked up at him with a smile. Aaron clenched his hand before releasing the final tension he felt in what he was about to do. He raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder. That familiar warmth they both felt when they came into close contact seeped through both of them. All Aaron said was, “Thank you, y/n.” With that, he removed his hands and walked up to his office. He knew that his actions weren't profoundly romantic or anything. He hadn’t swooped down and kissed y/n and pulled her body close to his, but in his actions, he had opened the floodgates for what might come.

It happened slowly, like most things in his life. Both because y/n and Aaron needed to be cautious for work's sake, but also because neither of them could really believe it was actually happening after so long. The first almost date had been when she got two tickets to see her favorite author do a reading with her best friend. Unfortunately _y/b/f_ had to cancel two days before. y/n was really bummed about it and Aaron could tell. He had approached her and said, “Would you like me to come with you? I don’t really know anything about _y/f/a_, but I can tell that it’s important to you.” Her eyes glistened at the idea and she said, “You’d do that?” Aaron let out a laugh and said, “Of course if you want me to.” y/n had beamed at him and for a moment he felt stunned at how beautiful she looked when she was this happy. He wished he could see her like this more. The reading was great, y/n had cried and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her feel her emotions. They had gotten coffee after and as he walked y/n back to her apartment, she stopped at her door and turned. y/n went out on a limb and stepped closer to him. She was close enough to feel the heat emanate from his body. With a last moment of deliberation, she closed the gap and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head into his chest. Aaron tensed for a moment before he let his body naturally respond. He gently wrapped his arms around his form and held her close to him.

Oh God, it felt so good to have her that near to him, to be able to actually hold her. Surprisingly it had been Derek who had encouraged him to make the leap of making y/n a more permanent fixture in his life. The team had all been at Rossi’s for dinner and y/n and Emily were at the wine bar pouring themselves another glass of red. Aaron was unknowingly looking at y/n longingly and Derek sat down next to him with a shot in his hand. The younger man said, “Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?” Aaron was pulled from his thoughts and looked over to Derek saying, “Sorry, what was that?” Derek chuckled and said, “Hotch, you deserve to be happy after everything you’ve been through.” At this Aaron made a face, but Morgan kept talking saying, “If you’re afraid that she’s not going to reciprocate your feelings, I see the way she looks at you. She likes you too.” Aaron let out a sigh and Derek put a hand on his shoulder saying, “Just think about it. A lot of people would be happy to have y/n, but she’d be happy to have you.” That evening as y/n dropped him off they had kissed for the first time outside in the parking lot.

The light knock on his door pulled him from his memories, and he stood and neatened his trousers and shirt as he opened the door for y/n. He opened the door and let y/n in. She smiled at him handed him a wrapped bouquet of hyacinth and baby breath and said, “For you, Aaron.” He smiled and leaned down giving her a kiss. He had brought her _y/f/f_ when she had first invited him to her apartment and she was returning the gesture. As he found a vase to put the flowers in, he offered her a chilled glass of water, and y/n moved around the space observing his neutral-toned apartment. After he set the flowers on the table, he came up beside her and slipped his hand around her waist. He was looking at his wall full of pictures. They were mostly of Jack, but there were a few of him and Hailey and a few he had taken on an old camera that was still around the apartment somewhere. She turned to look at him and said, “Jack’s grown up so much since some of these were taken.” Aaron hummed in her ear and said, “It’s crazy to think about. He’s going to school and making friends. When I talk to him on the phone I can hear him becoming his own person.” y/n turned back to the photos and found one where Hailey was particularly radiant, and she commented, “She looks so…” There was a pause as beautiful seemed to fall flat as a superlative. y/n finished the sentence with, “luminant here.” Hotch’s eyes moved from her to the picture and back to her. He deeply appreciated that y/n included Jack and even Hailey in her consideration of him and his life and happiness. Her comment made him look over y/n in her _f/c_ turtle neck and back corduroy skirt and said, “You look lovely tonight, y/n.” The flush on her face always made him feel a certain way, and as she turned to look over the space again she said, “I like it, Aaron. It’s calming and I think almost anyone could feel safe here.” Hotch hadn’t particularly decorated the space with that in mind, but again he didn’t have the eye for fashion or design that y/n had. He simply said, “I’m glad you like it, and that you feel safe here.” He took a breath and then asked, “You ready to head out, or do you want to sit for a bit?” y/n took his hand and replied, “Let’s head out, our reservations are in a half hour, and just because it’s Friday night and there might be traffic.” Hotch nodded and he moved to the counter and grabbed his coat and car keys. They headed out to the wine tasting at a jazz club that they both liked.

The date went well and as they arrived back at Aaron’s place he got out of the car and opened the door for y/n. They were both slightly buzzed, but not inebriated or without their wits. As y/n got out of the car he asked, “Would you like to come back inside for a bit or do you want to get back to your place?” y/n smiled and said, “I’d like to be with you for a while longer?” They left the crisp autumn air behind as they reentered Aaron’s apartment. He grabbed them both a glass of water and they sat on his couch y/n turned her head to him and he leaned down kissing him. His lips were so soft and warm on her mouth. The taste of him was a craving, a desire she couldn’t easily let go unless they were like this. Aaron could feel her love and longing in the way she moved her mouth over his. He wanted more, needed more of that feeling that he had been missing for the last few months. He slipped his tongue out of his mouth and over her bottom lip. y/n sighed, surprised by this new action from him, but opened up to his request. Aaron moved into the space, moving his tongue over hers and the contours of her mouth. As he explored this new space, y/n let out a small moan into his mouth. She moved her right hand to his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze letting him know that she was enjoying this moment. Her hand on his leg, so close to his groin made his cock twitch and he felt embarrassed for a second because something as small as her hand on him had elicited a response. y/n felt Aaron’s body tense under her hand and could imagine what had happened with this body. When they broke apart for air, y/n shifted from his side and moved so her legs were straddling his on the couch. She didn’t put any weight on him, wanting to make sure he was comfortable with this. Hotch’s eyes widened at the change of position and he sucked in a deep breath, his body already flushing. y/n placed her hands on the couch just above his shoulders. Her eyes glistened in the soft light of his lamps and she asked, “Is it too fast for you Aaron?” Hotch made a small sound, it was so quiet that it was almost unnoticeable in the space. He nodded his head no and replied, voice low, “No. It’s not. As long as you're comfortable with what we’re doing. We can take it at your pace. I want you, y/n.” At hearing his words and seeing the hunger in his eyes, she lowered her body until it was pressing close to him.

Her skirt was short and fitted and as her knees spread to sit on him it shifted up to her waist. Aaron was a bit too preoccupied to notice this yet as kissing him again; first on the mouth and then his earlobe sucking and lightly nipping the soft flesh. He let out a groan that was louder than he was expecting. His body was really reacting to her touch. What had been a twitch in his pants was now throbbing against the waistband of his pants. y/n felt his erection growing under her. While she moved to his jawline and began half-open-mouth kisses and licking the area, she shifted her weight again and moved her hand to the buckle of his dark brown belt. She fumbled with the metal as she continued her work on his face. She similarly undid the button and pulled down the zipper of his pants. Once his member was freer, y/n pressed against him providing him with some much-needed friction. Again made that low noise that made her core tingle and burn at the same time. At this, Aaron couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be touching her. Aaron shifted strongly but carefully picked y/n under the thighs and he moved so that they switched spots. Now that he was the one above her, he moved to pull at the edge of her shirt. y/n raised her arms for him and the fabric came easily over her head. He leaned down and kissed her hungrily. His hands found traction on her waist and the warm feeling of them resting there made y/n make a small sound into his mouth. Aaron moved his mouth away from hers and placed a hand over her _f/c_ lacy bra. Her breasts and nipples were visible to him through the semi-sheer fabric and lace and he marveled down at her form laid bare to him. He gently massaged the right breast in his hand and he felt her nipple harden under his touch. For the first time that night y/n whispered his name in a way that made Aaron feel more alive than he had in a long time. With his other hand, he took y/n’s left hand and slowly started kissing up the side of her arm. He looked over the litany of healed scars crisscrossing the warm skin under his mouth.

He had noticed them the first day he had met her. Although they weren’t pronounced as they were old and healed, he still saw them. How couldn’t he see them running up her arm and under her three-quarter sleeves? He was a profiler after all. He never said anything about them. He’d never heard the team talk about them either. It would be rude to of course, and really it had been none of his business at the time. But not that he could see them so clearly running up her arm he had to wonder. He sucked on the hollow spot of her elbow joint, and y/n bucked slightly, moving her hand down to this clothed groin. He let out a gasp as her hand began moving over his hard penis. Her hand traced the line of his arousal and he had to hold back from bucking under her touch. He kept moving as her hand worked over him. As he moved up her arm to her shoulder and collarbone, he moved his other hand to her left breast, massaging the tissue with his deft hand. With his other hand, he pushed down the strap of her bra and again started kissing her chest. Once more he kissed over her chest and noticed that the scars weren’t only endemic to her left arm. They were scattered haphazardly over her shoulder and collarbone. These marks had healed darker than the ones on her arm. He realized that if he paid close attention to his mouth, which he was, he could feel the difference between the smooth skin and that which had been opened many years ago. They were both making soft, needy noises and their movements grew more urgent. Aaron was now moving himself along her hand and y/n tipped her head back and said, “Aaron, please. I need more. I need you.” Hotch nodded and again, he stopped his frantic body and hooked his arms under her legs, now picking her up and moving into the bedroom. She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck. He set her gently on the bed and almost immediately pulled at her skirt. She rested the heels of her feet on the mattress and lifted her hips, so he could get rid of the fabric now bunched around her waist. Once the skirt was discarded, Aaron pushed her back onto the mattress. He also pulled off his shirt and discarded his pants in two fluid motions. y/n looked at the bulge in his briefs and smiled to herself. She knew he must be impressive, but being so close to seeing it in full confirmed her assumptions. Hotch leaned down and began sucking at the soft, flushed skin of her thigh.

The fact that Hotch’s mouth was breathing hot and loud against her leg and that he was moving steadily toward her center, made her arch her back in pleasure and the feelings of warmth continued to move through her. As Aaron’s mouth got closer to her black underwear, he was faced with the presence of scars once more. There were less of them here on her thigh, close to her center, but these seemed deeper, more deliberate. He wanted to kiss these, to continue the path of pleasure he was on, but it felt wrong. For him to be doing this without acknowledging something, to check in with her before he continued. y/n could feel his hesitation. She saw how he had paused each time he noticed a new area affected by her prior self. Her voice cut through his fog as she said, “I’m not embarrassed by them anymore you know. I used to be, but not now.” Hotch lifted his body and chest upright looking deeply into her eyes. He knew this was important to her, but also to him. For him to understand if she wanted to talk about it. He shifted and placed a hand on her thigh, just below her panty line, indicating that he wasn’t finished yet, just taking a break. All he could think of saying was, “I’m sorry.” y/n scoffed at this, not at him but, more at the idea. She placed a hand on his cheek and said, “You know no one ever talks to me about them. Not even when they were red and bleeding did anyone say anything. I thought certainly my parents, or teachers, or friends would say something, but they didn’t because they didn’t know how.” y/n looked away and removed her hand from his face saying, “Sorry. I’m kind of being a buzzkill, aren’t I?” Aaron’s eyes deepened, and he took both her hands in his and said, “No, no it’s not to me. Please, you can talk to me if you want.”

She looked back to his face and it was clear to her that his desire for her wasn’t ebbing with this conversation. He was still Aaron, the Aaron she had spent months with, but this was different and she knew it. y/n let out a breath and said, “I got so good at hiding them that when I stood naked in front of a mirror I would flinch at my own reflection.” Hotch nodded slightly and asked, “Did they hurt you a great deal?” y/n took her bottom lip in her mouth for a moment before replying, “Not really. At least not until the next day. I was just looking for a release you know? Something to distract me from what was happening.” Aaron’s hand on her thigh gently started tracing over the scarred tissue with his thumb and he said, “Well I’m still sorry that you felt you needed to do that. Even if it was to protect you emotionally.” y/n gave him a small smile. She looked up at him with her large eyes, sincere in their clarity as she said, “You don’t have to apologize, Aaron. I’ve forgiven the younger version of me that made the choice to hurt herself. She was scared and angry and didn’t understand what was happening to her.” Aaron could ask about what exactly had been going on in her younger years. But he didn’t. He wanted her to be in control of this conversation, and a moment later, she said, “Plus, there are better ways to find release than when I was in high school.”

Aaron flushed and felt his erection which had gone semi-soft twtich again. He reached out for her and said, “Are you sure? We can stop for tonight if you like.” y/n shook her head no and replied, “No, I want to keep going. I want to go all the way with you, Aaron.” Aaron nodded and pulled her close again, embracing her mouth with his. His right hand slipped behind y/n’s back and he deftly undid the clasp of her bra. He pulled far enough away to pull the intimate article off, and he said, “Just let me know if you need me to stop, alright. At any point, we can take a break.” y/n hummed her agreement and threaded her hands through his short hair. Aaron moved his face lower and he breathed warmly over her right breast. The warm sensation over her sensitive skin caused her nipples to grow taught again. Aaron leaned in and took the tissue in his mouth. He swirled the nipple with his tongue and y/n let out a sound so desperate and beautiful that he grew rock hard again in an instant. He kneaded the other breast with his hand and his left hand slipped under the waistband of her panties. She was desperately wet as he moved his pointer and middle fingers over her folds and heat. After a moment of this, Aaron pulled his face from her chest, wanting to get more of those sounds from her mouth. He got her out of the last piece of her clothing and he looked over her bare sex for a moment before diving in with his mouth. The taste of her on his lips was intoxicating, more intoxicating than the wine they had imbibed earlier that night. He moved over her wetness with an urgency. Again, y/n spoke his name with a need he didn’t know he needed to hear. She arched her back against his strong and accurate tongue. Hotch pressed her stomach back flush with the mattress and he reveled as her body twitched beneath his hand. As his tongue began entering her most intimate area, she moaned. She could feel herself coming close and wasn’t ready for the feeling to stop. She called his name and he stopped immediately, checking in with her. He looked up at her and his face and nose were wet with her excitement. “What is it, y/n. Do you want to stop?” He said it rather breathlessly as he had been very intent in his work. y/n replied, “Far from it, but I want to taste you too. I want you in my mouth.”

Aaron stilled for a moment and said, “You're sure?” y/n smiled mischievously and said, “More than anything.” He felt a growl in his throat and he finally took off his briefs, freeing his cock. y/n looked him over for the first time, apparently impressed with him. He was slightly happy about this reaction, but the feeling of being pushed back and y/n taking his tip into her mouth instantly stilled that inner voice. ‘Oh fuck,’ he thought as she swirled her tongue over him in one direction for a bit, and then the other, and finally across the top. This sensation alone was enough to bring some pre-come to the tip. Aaron watched as she sucked it off quickly and then moved back onto him with her mouth. The very sight of her working over him nearly sent Aaron over the edge. His size was impressive and y/n wondered if she would be able to take all of him in her mouth. She worked fervently over him, taking more and more of his length each time she moved her head up and down him. She ran her hands over his balls as she did this, and she could feel him throbbing in her throat. Meanwhile, Aaron’s body was twitching with bliss and anticipation, and he said her name like a prayer as she finally got to the base. She continued to work on him as she sucked and licked his cock. She ran her tongue all the way up the vein running on the underside of him and again, this nearly ended him. This time it was his turn to ask her to stop, which she did. He knew that if he came now in her mouth he might not be able to do it again as intensely as the first time. Could he come again? With her, absolutely, but this was their first time and he wanted to give her his best. Breathlessly he said, “I need to be in you if you’re open to it. Please.” He realized that he was begging, but he couldn’t stop the urgency in his voice.

y/n agreed, at this point their bodies were aching for release and she wanted him in her as badly as he wanted to be in her. She asked, “Can I be on top please?” With some vulnerability, she added, “It’s been a while since I’ve been intimate with anyone.” Hotch nodded, knowing the position would give her more control in regard to the depth and pacing. He said, “Of course. Whatever you want love.” He sat up a bit, leaning back on his palms. As _y/n_ got ready to straddle him again, he asked, “Are you on the pill, or should I get a condom?” He hadn’t made assumptions about her sexual life until recently, and asking something like this felt inappropriate unless in this very situation. y/n smiled and said, “I’m on the pill. We’re good." With this, she got back on her knees with Aaron underneath her. She used her hand to gently guide him into her entrance. She worked slowly at first. Even with just his tip inside her, Aaron had to stop himself from lifting his hips to get further inside of her. However, he kept still and let, y/n slowly take more and more of him inside her. He encouraged her saying, “That’s it y/n, your doing well. You feel so good around me.” She smiled at him and after a few moments, she was mostly seated over him. She was incredibly tight, and he was impressed that she had taken his member in as deeply as she had. There was only a tiny bit of his cock exposed. He felt her walls throb and tighten against him and he had to bite his mouth shut to stifle what he assumed was a scream of pleasure. She leaned down and took his mouth in hers, It was her turn to explore his mouth and he allowed her in easily. She was greedy with her tongue, and her breath was hot in his throat. After she pulled away for breath she assessed her comfort. Any pain that had been there when she was enveloping him had passed and she said needily, “You can move in me, Aaron. Please.”

Aaron moaned again as he followed her command. He shifted his hips up and the feeling of his cock sliding inside her was pure bliss. It was all he had imagined and more. He started slowly, but both of them had waited and built up for the other and it was time to get their reward for their patience. Aaron built up his speed and the stream of half-contained noise that y/n made only had him quickening his pace more. As his thrusts became more urgent he felt a slight sheen of sweat covering them both. He was close, so close and he raced toward the finish. In a final desire to have him closer and deeper in her, y/n placed her full weight on his hips and leaned back, supporting herself on shaking, shuddering arms. The final shift in position allowed him that last bit of room to fully enter her and she moaned out, “Faster Aaron. Please, I’m going to come.” At her words, Aaron placed his hands on her hips, guiding their shared movement. He thrusted even faster and only a few seconds later, y/n came undone. Her body shaked and clenched around him and that was all he needed to find his release. His seed shot out of him hot and fast and he kept thrusting a few times more chasing the high, heady organism she was giving him. They both made ungodly noises as they let go and y/n quite literally collapsed on top of him. He held onto her closely as their shaky breaths intermixed. As Aaron regained his breath, the words came unbidden and he said, “I love you y/n. Oh god, I’ve loved you for so long. I’m sorry it took me this long to say something.” y/n was still shaking with her orgasm, but she managed to strangle out, “I love you too, Aaron. A hundred percent.” Aaron registered her words from a few months ago and he realized that she had been longing for him for that long and that he was a fool for not noticing before.

Aaron was tired, but y/n was completely spent and he was still in her softening from his heightened state. With gentle strength, he grabbed her hips and lifted her off of his body. She made a small protestation at the loss of contact. However, he didn’t have any plans of letting her go soon. He pulled her to his chest and she settled contentedly next to him, her damp skin sticking to his. He was beginning to connect her comments about her scars to his own father's abuse. However, he didn’t have the head space for that rabbit hole right now. But he did say softly, “Do you think it’s fate that we met, y/n?” She chuckled into his chest and replied, “That’s too cliched coming from you Aaron.” He hummed and said, “Maybe, but am I wrong?” The question hung in the air for a minute before y/n said, “Maybe not. All I know is that life can be terrible. God knows we see the worst of it, but at least you're in mine.” At this, y/n settled closer to him; listening to his heartbeat consistently thumping in his chest. Aaron held her a bit closer. He would get up eventually to get her some towels to clean her up, but for now, having her in his arms was all he ever wanted.

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