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ilovejoostklein · 4 months

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hii, a little request. could we get sum eurovision singer!reader with joost?? maybe after their endless flirting they end up having a one night stand in their hotel room��‍💫 and after eurovision ends reader is caught by some fans attending joost’s concert in vancouver or they are seen attending a club together and being all cozy😫 sorry if it’s to much, feel free to decline🫶🏻

i got you! 💙

Little Stars

You’re Joost’s favorite girl at Eurovision

nsfw: smut, some fluff

The entire competition served more as an ego boost than as a popularity boost to your career. You were always an extrovert. As a child, you always got the same cliché comments that you’d either be a great lawyer or a performer, and you decided to choose the option that wouldn’t cause you to have a lifetime of boredom. It certainly helped that your parents stuck you in every extracurricular activity, dance, gymnastics, volleyball, to have an outlet for your energy and love for being the center of attention.

You’d discovered your singing talents from your father, who was an amateur singer. On weekend mornings, when the morning dew would still be on the plants, pale golden sunlight illuminating the streets of your city you’d rush down the stairs to join him when you heard the gentle strumming of his guitar with the song of the morning birds.

You two would sing a song together, the neighbors always taking a moment to listen from the windows or their doorsteps, people walking by smiling at you or taking a moment to talk. Your parents were adamant that you were born to be on stage, your family and neighbors nicknamed you their little star.

You first gained popularity after posting a few covers on YouTube when you were a teenager. It wasn’t much in terms of internet fame, a couple of thousand followers, and your most popular video getting a little over 100,000 views but it was surreal to you at the time. You always stuck to ballads, your voice strong and from your high stamina, you could belt out notes that lasted miles. It wasn’t until you showcased your dancing talents that your popularity seemed to ignite.

At first, it scared you a bit, but the attention was overwhelmingly positive besides the few comments from older people in your country who damned the youth and their nerve to have fun. You realized that your singing could only take you so far, millions of other people had nice voices, but few could captivate an audience like you with your stage presence. Before you knew it, you had enough money to hire a manager and move yourself and your parents to a nicer part of town. Your name spread across parts of Europe, and you became somewhat of a celebrity, selling out small venues and playing a few festivals.

You came from truly humble beginnings, and you suspected that was why so many audiences connected with and favored you, and a large reason why your application to Eurovision to represent your country was accepted. You were beautiful, incredibly talented, and had a larger-than-life charisma. In interviews and press conferences, it was the best thing, especially in the unique and rather tense climate of this year’s competition, but backstage was a completely different person.

You quickly gave yourself a reputation of being a flirt. You wore skimpy, bright outfits adorned with glitter and rhinestones with every practice and rehearsal. When you weren’t about to perform, you still wore mini skirts and the tiniest top imaginable. You walked around with your body practically on full display, some parts of your skin being hardly covered with fishnets or tights. You lived up to your nickname as being a star, the other contestants hearing it from your parents, but being grown up and leaning into your sensuality you were more like Venus now, your presence scorching, bright, and exigent.

Beside you in the sky of stars was Joost. If you had been a little star, he was the sun itself. You two had taken a liking to each other almost immediately and nearly became attached at the hip. It was far from platonic, but you found yourself amused at how you two could be able to flirt with each other so shamelessly and without constraint without doing more than hugging.

“Hi, baby.” You greeted him in one of the lounge areas for breakfast. It became an inside joke between you to constantly use silly pet names. It was very early morning, and the sun and blue skies were hardly present. “Can I sit with you this morning?” You smiled.

“You already know the answer, honey.” He smiled back. You loved how his smile would take up his entire face, you felt you could never get tired of looking at it. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

It was the day of the rehearsal before the finale, and the nerves hadn’t quite gotten to you yet. You nodded, watching as he fixed your plate with your usual breakfast order that he picked up. It was a sweet gesture that warmed your heart, you were beyond thankful to have someone who took you into their arms the way that Joost had.

You two sat down together at a corner table. You watched as sunlight blanketed his features. It reflected into the ridge of his nose and illuminated his eyes, you found yourself staring into them, never seeing eyes that reminded you of the crystal blue waters of the beach you grew up by.

“Your eye contact scares me.” He chuckled, the direct comment making you feel your heart drop to your feet. “It’s ok, gives me an excuse to look at you.”

“You have nice eyes.” You said, ripping a piece of your croissant that Joost had fried in the microwave, despite you asking it to be lightly warmed. “This is super cold, by the way.” You said, pushing the first piece into his mouth.

The bread burned his tongue a bit, but he was able to ignore the pain when he felt your fingers in his mouth. He bravely ran his tongue over the pads of your fingers, sucking down gently all while keeping his eyes set on you. You were speechless for a moment, seeing and feeling his sinfully pink tongue on your fingers before you were able to pull away.

“You drooled on me.” You looked down at your hand, seeing there were still crumbs on your fingers, and pushed them into your mouth. You watched Joost’s eyebrows raise as he stiffened in his seat, feeling himself getting far so excited so early in the morning.

You tasted him in your mouth, the sickeningly sweet syrup from his waffles and the bitterness from his coffee. “There’s crumbs on my fingers.” You said, “You don’t lick your fingers to get food off?”

“No,” He spoke, his tone a bit hushed, “I like to lick my fingers.”

You blushed at his comment, always catching the innuendo but never pushing it further. The two of you sat in silence for a moment to let the tension cool, as you always did when it became too unbearable.

“You’re the only performer who changes your outfits.” Joost was always the first to break the silence. “How short will your skirt be tonight?”

You laughed, “Shorter than last night.” You answered, his dimples giving away his amusement. “Your outfit is one of my favorites though.”

“Ah.” He said happily, “What do you like about it?”

“The color is nice.” You complimented, seeing in his face how much he loved the attention. “Is it hard to take off?”

He withdrew a bit, smiling knowingly but deciding to beat around the bush as you two formed a habit of doing. “Not really.” He said. “It’s very easy, I don’t need any help at all.” His answer was excruciating.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, I need a lot of help with mine.” You began, “There’s so many hooks and zippers, it’s so annoying.”

Joost hummed in absentminded agreement. You saw on the vacant expression on his face, and how he went back to eating his breakfast that you’d give him too vivid of a picture. All he could imagine now was being alone with you in the dressing room, undoing all the hooks and zippers you were talking about. He’d want to rip apart those fishnet stockings you always wore, the thought of seeing the gentle threads snap apart from his hands revealing your soft skin drove him wild. The imagery became too much eventually, and he felt a bit of shame when he saw your gentle, unknowing face across him.

“You know you’re gonna win, right?” You said suddenly, making his expression drop into something deathly serious.

“It would be nice.” He mumbled nervously, his nerves entangling themselves together even tighter than before. “You think so?”

“No, Joost.” You glanced at the clock on your phone, realizing you’d spent too much time at breakfast. “I said I know you’re doing to win.”

The night of the semi-final had solidified Joost’s obsession with you, but he realized he was in a long line of admirers. It was like he was in a trance, your voice like a siren’s, and the way your outfit glittered and reflected onto the bright light, it was surreal. He wanted to congratulate you after, but he saw that a crowd had already formed around you, specifically that the Croatian performer, Baby Lasagne, another favorite, had beaten him to it.

Joost watched from afar, how you smiled constantly and looked so animated talking to him. His hands grazed your bare arm a few times, and every time it felt like it tugged on his heart in a horrible, unfamiliar sensation. It pained him a bit to know that you were known as a flirt, wondering if the way you looked at him and clung by his side meant anything at all or if it was all a part of some game.

He saw you again walking down the hall when he felt a tap at his side. He knew it was you immediately, turning around he couldn’t help but bring you into a hug that left your feet dangling as he rambled on about how well you did.

“Are you kidding?” You said, holding onto his neck before he set you down. “You’re fucking amazing Joost, I loved watching you.”

He scoffed, looking down at you still in your outfit, it was like he was dreaming. He yearned to keep his hands on your waist, but his better senses got the better of him, and his arms returned to his side.

“I think everyone loved watching you more.” He began, remembering how he had to watch another man try to charm you the way he’d been for the past few days. “I don’t have people crowding me after I perform.”

You raised your eyebrows, remembering how the Croatian performer came up to you to talk you up, offering to take you for a drink and inviting him back into his room, an offer that you left to a ‘maybe’ just to keep him hanging. You saw Joost at the end of the hallway, now realizing that he didn’t just happen to be there but he was watching.

“You sound jealous.” You teased, seeing a blush begin on his face, like red wine spilling on pristine sheets. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going.”

Joost hated when you did that, knowing that you had nothing to do but sit in your room, drink obnoxiously expensive liquor, and talk about equally as obnoxious things with your friend. He wished he had it in him to ask to go back with you, but the fear of rejection always struck too hard and quickly for him to take advantage of the moment.

The day of the finale, it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone but Joost that he’d won, and you’d been the runner-up. You didn’t have much of a competitive spirit, the experience of Eurovision alone already felt like a victory in itself. When it was announced that he’d won, you two hugged in front of what felt like a sea of cameras and you were able to sneak a kiss on his cheek before he went up on stage to be awarded. There was far too much commotion directly afterward to see him again, it was physically painful to feel him slipping away from you and realize that this, like all good things, was all finally ending.

Joost found you again in the early hours of the morning, holding flowers at your door dressed down in a simple t-shirt and jeans from his short night out to come to personally congratulate you. He noticed you weren’t at any of the after parties, and even his own which admittedly stung a bit. He had an evening flight the next day, so he could stand to lose a bit of sleep if it meant seeing you one last time.

You answered the door in a robe, from your exposed skin it seemed like nothing else was underneath. You smiled and laughed to conceal the overwhelming feelings that filled your chest from the gesture.

“You’re so sweet, Joost.” You said as you took the small bouquet from him. “I have some champagne in my room if you want to share, it for the winner.”

Joost felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, freeing him from the torturous game you’d forced him to play as he finally was alone with you. Whether or not he’d leave with anything didn’t matter, he just wanted a moment with you that wasn’t in the halls or the lounges.

Your room was serene and surprisingly organized, unlike his with bottles piled on the coffee table and clothes all over the couch. The lights were low, and soft music played in the background, by the look of the skincare products on the vanity it seemed that he’d interrupted your bedtime ritual.

He watched as you poured a sparkling glass of champagne for him, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. It was a bit sweet for his liking, but it made sense if it was coming from you. He knew you were the type to overindulge, like a child of Dionysus you lived for worldly pleasures and your enjoyment alone. He wondered if he would be a part of those pleasures if you’d fall into him like you did your other vices.

“I’m going to spend a little bit more time here.” You said, “I’ve never been to Sweden before.”

Joost nodded, knowing that you came from a small city and that all this travel was probably the best thing in the world for you. “I leave tomorrow.” His tone was a bit disappointed. “I would’ve liked to stay a little longer though.”

You hummed in agreement, “So,” You began, setting down the half-finished glass of your drink. “You only came to give me flowers?”

He felt his grip tighten on the delicate glass, looking down at you, he noticed that the fabric of the robe had fallen forward a bit, exposing a bit of your naked chest and body. “No.” He confessed, “Just an excuse to see you, the flowers were mine.”

“It’s rude to regift.” He hated your teasing, he hated the ever-present sensuality in your voice. “Alright, well, you saw me.”

You watched as Joost’s eyes widened at you, a desperate look on his face from how insufferable you had become. He knew that you had seen right through him this entire time, and he felt that you were now making a mockery of him. Even if he was the one with the dishonest motives, if he was the one staring down your robe, he felt that he was completely naked in front of you.

“You’re too much.” He mumbled, fumbling with the intricate buckle of his belt and swirling the champagne in his cup. “You don’t even come to my fucking party.”

You smiled at him, but not like you had been doing before, “Is that belt bothering you?” You asked before reaching over, your hands gently moving his away. “Let me help you.”

You undid his belt with a bit of a struggle, finally pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. Joost felt his breath get caught in his throat, looking down at you as you undid the button to his jeans that now felt suffocating and pulled down the zipper. The sound of his clothing coming off echoed in his mind and made him grow rigid. He tried to relax, trying to see you for what you were, someone who was just as crazy for him as he was for you, instead of someone who had the upper hand.

You couldn’t bear to deny yourself anymore, the tension finally snapping loose as your fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down in one desperate, fluid motion. Joost began to step away so that he’d be able to sit down on the chair across from you, his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles as you followed shamelessly.

You mused at his size, wrapping your hand around the base you couldn’t help but take it all in. Joost was pretty, all of him was so fucking pretty. His dick looked perfect in your hands, just big enough that you knew it would hurt and prove itself to be a challenge that you were eager to take on. His skin radiated warmth, it was softer than any other man you’d touched. You nearly salivated the longer you pumped him in your hand, drawing out soft groans before you finally took him into your mouth.

It was as if you were a groupie how enthusiastic and sloppy you were. He watched through half-lidded eyes as you took all you could, your hands pumping at the base of what you struggled to fit. Your tongue was sinful, swirling around his shaft and sensitive tip, sucking him off so well he began to lose all rationality, wondering how crazy it would be if he asked you to be his girlfriend after all of this.

Joost grabbed the glass of champagne and began drinking again, the rush of sweetness on his tongue paired with getting head from his new favorite girl was heavenly. His ego had completely taken over, he was a winner and deserved to feel like it. He wanted to have you for as long as he could. He didn’t want to finish like this, so he poured himself another glass and pulled your head away gently so that you’d face him.

“Kiss it.” He said, the glass sparkling and bubbling alongside his eyes that now were drowned out by his pupils. “Look at me while you do it.”

Your body grew numb at his request, seeing him rip the control that you once had as he sat in your room, drinking your champagne with his fingers tangled in your hair telling him to kiss his dick for him. He knew you liked to put on a show, using it to his advantage he watched from above, glass to his lips before you listened.

You felt passionate desire pour out of you as you mindlessly kissed and licked on his dick. You pressed sloppy, wet kisses all over, sucking down gently on the tip as he watched quietly, suppressing his moans and taking sips of his drink. The only sounds were coming from you, you moaned from the pleasure it gave you to be touching him, and how much you loved the feeling of your saliva and his pre cum dripping all over your face.

Your lips were plush and greedy against him, the sight itself better than the sensation. When he’d finally had enough, he pulled you up so that you’d be sitting on his lap, your face was a bit too messy, so he took a makeup wipe from your vanity and gently cleaned your face.

“Here,” Joost offered the last sip of champagne from his glass, “Wash your mouth.”

He pressed the cool glass to your lips and watched as you drank until there was nothing left. He finally pulled you into an impatient kiss, but it was much softer than you expected. He kissed you tenderly, his arms holding your body taut, so much that you felt his heartbeat against yours. You could tell even if this was all unintended and in the heat of the moment, the feelings you shared underneath were all genuine.

You held his face in your hands, his stubble rough against your palms. You wished you could stay like that forever, but the ache in between your legs would never allow you. You lowered one hand so that you could untie the knot on your silky robe and let it fall off your shoulders. Joost felt the shift in the fabric and moved one hand up to cup your breast and squeezed down, pulling away from the kiss to look at you.

He left a trail of kisses on your neck, sucking down on the sensitive skin before leaving a mark right below your ear so that he’d give you something to remember him properly. It was crimson, deep, and loving, you wished that he’d even left more. You loved the feeling, and you let him know with the way you squirmed in his thigh and whined with every kiss.

As much as he enjoyed moving slowly, the time was passing by too quickly and he was animalistic in his desire to fuck you. It felt as if he’d been putting out for a lifetime, his better judgment was non-existent. He paid just enough attention to your breasts, he’d hate to neglect something so perfect, kissing them lovingly, before kissing down your stomach down to your thighs.

Joost kissed in between your thighs slowly. His lips lingered too closely to where they should’ve been teasing you to the point it felt cruel. As you watched his languid motions, how much intention and care he put into every touch, you could tell how crazy he was for you, how your flirting had driven him to this madness. Your hand ran through his hair as he continued to press soft kisses against your skin, making him look up at you with a pleading expression,

“Can I?” He asked in a strained whisper, you blushed a bit seeing him soften so much and ask the most obvious question.

“Please.” You could hardly speak seeing him like that, he was unrecognizable from the man you’d known before. “I’m yours.”

He wondered if you could peer into his mind into his deepest desires. Joost ate you out as his thoughts raced, somehow without the overt focus it felt so much more natural and perfect for you. He was operating on pure instinct now, his mind elsewhere, thinking ahead to when he’d get to fuck you as his mouth preoccupied itself. He moaned against you, his warm tongue lapping against your clit desperately. The sounds you made only made him more determined, so much so that he couldn’t feel the ache in his jaw and weakness in his tongue.

His thoughts then floated to the image of when he’d make you cum. The taste of you was addicting, better than an ice-cold shot of his favorite liquor and the first cigarette out of a fresh box. The taste of you dripped down his chin like biting into an overly ripe peach, messy, sticky but inexplicably perfect. He kept your trembling thighs apart with his strong hands, like the skin of a fruit as delicate as a peach he was careful not to hurt you, but you seemed to become more beautifully vocal when his fingers would dig down into your flesh.

“I’m close.” You mumbled, not wanting to lose your high, the feeling of your orgasm building steadily in the bottom of your stomach. “Please don’t stop Joost.”

He forced himself to listen, if time wasn’t against him he would’ve edged you to the point of tears until you would be coming undone, ripping at the seams for a well-deserved orgasm rather than one so easily given. His soft lips pressed down on your clit, sucking down gently he knew you weren’t going to last too long, but just to make sure he traced your entrance with two long fingers and fucked your desperate, soaked pussy.

You lost yourself in the bliss that washed over you. You’d never felt anything quite like it, it was ecstasy in its purest form. He fucked you through it, gentle whispers guiding you back to reality as you clenched and writhed against his hand to ride out your orgasm.

“That’s it, dotje.” His voice was so delicate and comforting against the intensity that overcame your senses. “I’ve got you.”

You felt tears in your eyes from how tightly they’d been shut. Looking down as the feeling subsided into a nearly sedated, dreamy sensation you watched as Joost withdrew his hand from you. Wincing at the loss of his fingers, desperately needing something inside of you again you watched as his two fingers, completely drenched in your slick arousal went into his mouth.

You wished you had it in you to tease him and remind him about the time you’d had breakfast together, but it was all a distant, meaningless memory now. You were entranced watching him lick his fingers clean, he stared you down as he did it, his tongue swirling around to taste every last bit of you.

“You taste so good.” His voice too was unrecognizable, his lust for you so apparent that you found yourself feeling much more bare than just in the literal sense. “Open your mouth.”

His fingers were warm, you’d finally returned the favor and sucked down to taste yourself like he wanted. After he was satisfied, he wiped his hand against his torso carelessly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans that were tossed on the floor to pull out his wallet. He always kept condoms, although he hadn’t acclimated himself to a rock star lifestyle yet he was glad that he’d made a habit of always carrying some.

“Can I go on top?” You asked sweetly, only for him to shake his head with a smile.

“No.” He said plainly, tearing open the holographic packaging. “I want to be romantic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Joost made you feel at ease, he was undoubtedly a special person who would always have a small piece of your heart. You wished that he didn’t make you feel so warm inside, a fling and one nightstand should’ve made you feel nothing but lust.

Even if he had been joking, it had been romantic. He laid atop of you, kissing you just slow and deep as he fucked you. He filled you up so perfectly that you could do nothing but hold him close and moan into the never-ending kiss. You tensed a bit at first, but he was gentle, touching you sweetly to relax your body so that he could bottom you out.

Joost lasted a bit longer than you anticipated, you even grew a bit sore from how much he stretched you out and your body soon became weighed down with a drunken feeling. The champagne had long worn off, but nothing was comparable to getting fucked by such a man who wasn’t only gorgeous, but completely on top of the world.

It made you feel a bit shallow, wrapping your legs around him as he began to kiss your neck to give your lips a break. You tugged on the longer part of his hair possessively, eliciting a low groan from him. Just like you’d boosted his ego, he was now doing the same for you. Even if you didn’t win the competition, you’d have the person who did wrapped around your finger.

He came inside you without any verbal warning, but his body gave him away. You felt entranced by it, the way he panted and moaned Dutch praises tangled with English ones. His cock twitched when he finished, a bit disappointed you couldn’t enjoy it fully and all you felt was the warmth.

What followed was a bit disappointing. Your head was a wreck for the days after, thinking of how Joost left in the later morning hours after spending what was left of the night cuddling with you. Your remaining time in Sweden was beautiful with your friend, but you’d promised to fly back to Vancouver to see her family so that they could give you proper congratulations.

You’d confided to your friend on a drunken night in Stockholm about your night with Joost, which failed to surprise her. As you lay in the living room of her parent's house, watching her nieces and nephews play and talk your ear off about Eurovision you noticed her running into the house.

“Check your phone.” She was far too excited, making you nervously take your phone from the coffee table. “Hurry!”

You looked at her messages to see tickets to a festival, looking at the line your heart nearly sank at seeing Joost’s name. You were silent for a while, your face still and statuesque you’d unintentionally offended your friend.

“Uh,” She began leaning down to look at you. “Do you not want to go or something?”

You shook your head, “Of course I do.” You said quietly, not wanting the kids to butt into the conversation. “I just hope I can see him, not just watch.”

You certainly got what you wanted. After watching the show, it felt like you’d been falling in love for a second time with the way he performed. You loved seeing him get to see him being himself without constraint, even if he was completely out of his element in Canada he was too charming for anyone not to like him.

You found Joost after his show, not needing to say anything, your arms wrapping around his torso as you two stood behind the stage as the next performer went on. You realized you were still in the open for everyone to see, but even if you noticed groups of people slowing down to stare at you two you hadn’t cared.

“There are people taking pictures.” He whispered, nodding over to one of the passing groups, presumably Eurovision fans.

You shook your head, cupping his face for what felt like the last time as the sun-kissed all his features for you. You didn’t want to do anything else but admire him for as long as you could.

#joost klein #joost #fanfic #smut #fluff #eurovision #europapa #joost x reader #fem reader

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jjenthusee · 1 month

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Racing Hearts

f1!driver!Jason x reporter!Reader

A/N: i know i said that i felt like writing a toxic f1!driver!Jason, but my mind always reverts back to fluff and hurt/comfort. i can’t help it. :( So ENJOY <3 comment if your comfortable, let me know your thoughts, and please check out the art that inspired this fic (F1 Driver, F1 Driver Pt.2 and F1 Driver Pt.3) i’m proud of how everything came together \(^~^)/ ALSO I SEE THOSE OF U WHO SPAM LIKE, REBLOG, OR COMMENT ON ALL MY WRITING (I LOVE ALL OF YOU) it makes me geek out fr

The story will continue! Here is pt. 2 HEHEHE

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, sudden roy harper appearance???,

Word Count: 3.7k

The lights were bright, rapid flashes brightening every angle of Jason’s face as he stood in front of multiple cameras.

His sweat pricking his forehead and running down the sides of his face, shimmering from the light, making him even more attractive as he finally felt the sun on his skin after a race.

His racing helmet clasped in his hand, towel in the other, dabbing at the sides of his neck. His hair perfectly messy from his win.

Fans screaming his name, reporters trying to get his attention. A man finally stopping him in his tracks, shoving a microphone closer to him, surpassing those who were also trying to talk to the star in question.

“Jason, we have seen your name repeatedly throughout racing legacies, what’s the secret to having such a great career?”

Jason continued to walk again, waving at fans, effortlessly pleasing the crowd one look at a time. The reporters and photographers following him like pigeons flocking to food on the ground. Shouting to repeat his name.

After dabbing his towel to his face, he turned back to look at the interviewer. A sparkle in his eyes.

“You’re lookin’ at him. What else do I need?” Jason smugly smiled, briefly making eye contact with the interviewer as he spoke, the interviewer’s face slightly reddening. Giving his classic swoon worthy smirk, fans erupting behind him trying to get a glimpse.

Just another day as one of the world’s best racer.

——

Jason had arrived late, his ball cap worn nicely on his head, his classic Red Bull uniform snug around his fit physique.

Bright lights burned down on him, giving the cameras the best lighting. Jason’s flaws were being watched like a hawk, ready to be shown, but he confidently walked to the microphones.

He let out his signature smile, a quick wink to the nearest interviewer, tapping the microphone in front of him.

Repeated thump thumps echoed through the speakers as he sat down, his management team not far off the stage as he took one of the two seats. The other driver no where in sight, his bright orange hair nonexistent next to Jason. The iconic duo not yet together.

Multiple hands raised, ready to ask Jason any big questions they had been saving for the past twenty minutes until one of the two men decided to join. The press conference should have started once his companion arrived, but journalists weren’t patient people.

“Mr. Todd! How does it feel to add another win to your belt and beat your own record?” A bright young man asked from the crowd, his glasses bouncing off his nose.

Jason laughed, pride taking up the entire room.

“I didn’t know there was any other option.” Jason leaned into the mic, giving a show of his arms crossed, muscles on the table in front of him.

You could practically hear the fans screaming through the camera as you sat a couple rows from the racer. You were surprised his ego didn’t push you off your seat when he arrived.

“Jason! There is talk that your contract is near its end and you are possibly thinking about changing teams, what are your thoughts?” A blonde woman asked two rows in front of you.

“I always think of my fans first, I want to carefully consider everything when I make that decision. Plus, I can’t deny how good I look in black.” Jason teasingly tilted his head.

A quiet scoff left your mouth.

It was now or never, you didn’t know how loud the room was going to get once the second racer arrived.

You raised your hand, standing up to talk face to face to Formula 1’s hottest driver, Jason Todd.

Well…face to face was pushing it, there were other reporters also trying to get their chance with the ever bright star.

But a press conference was a press conference, if you don’t make yourself known, you don’t get to ask any questions.

Once Jason’s focus landed on your standing form, he nodded at you, giving you permission to speak.

Returning the courtesy, you nodded your head.

“Gotham’s greatest has returned.” You smiled, notebook in hand, voice even.

“Please, no need for an introduction.” Jason chuckled, interrupting your sentence as the rest of the crowd laughed with him.

Charmer. You thought.

Patience has always been your virtue, too many people tested you in your line of work, but you could handle someone as spontaneous as Jason Todd.

“Not only do you have the skill, you have the money, and the team to back you up. You are engineered for success.” You explained.

Jason chuckled, charming smile broadening at the compliments.

“You have such a nice way with words.” He relayed through the microphone, projecting his husky voice throughout the room, gaining another laugh from the crowd.

“But your Chief Technical Officer is leaving this season, digging a huge hole in your team. His legacy changed the engineering of your vehicle because he introduced you to your legendary car. Putting you and your other driver, Roy Harper, in a position of possibly seeing your racing careers coming to an end as your CTO retires.”

“You do have a way with words.” Jason repeated, irritation pricking at his skin, but keeping that picture perfect smile for the camera. You smiled again, a tiny bit wider at his strain.

“In other words, your fans are wondering, if your car can’t be at it’s top shape, there’s only so much skill you can perfect before technology surpasses you and you can only see the rear wing of all your opponents.”

Ouch. Jason thought, smiling through your verbal jabs, but none of the amusement reflected in his eyes as he stared at you.

“What did you say your name was?” Jason sat up straighter, his tone lowering. He was used to mindlessly giving eye contact, giving that mind numbing attention that most people on the internet fawned over.

This time it was different, he focused in on the reporter standing not far from his seat, never lowering their eyes from him.

You smiled, slow and calm, basking in causing the change in the flirtatious F1 driver.

Now you had his attention.

“All legacies come to an end, Mr. Todd.” You continued, never answering his question. “Now that your CTO Elainey Usoro is confirmed to leave, will we be able to witness your legacy end in the upcoming season?”

“Aren’t you jumping the gun? Of course my name will continue to be recognized.” Jason scoffed.

“But will it be recognized as the star that lost its fame?” You nudged again.

Jason’s face went neutral, observing you. You stared back, not wavering in your eye contact, a calm diligence.

A tension blanketed the conference room.

Roy threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders in a friendly manner, leaning against his driving buddy as he also threw a flirtatious smile. His laid back demeanor cut up the tension filling the room, the reporters getting oddly quiet at the sudden back and forth of you and Jason, but saved by the second driver’s arrival.

Roy was as fashionably late as usual, throwing a kiss towards the management team on the side lines. His iconic bright hair covered in a backwards ball cap.

They erupted his name around you, as you stood above the crowd.

Roy waved his hand, playfully mimicking a royal princess addressing his loyal subjects as he kept his arm on Jason.

Despite the noise around you, Jason kept his look at you.

Once Roy was done getting in his crowd pleasing, he spoke.

“Sweetheart, just ‘cause Usoro is leaving doesn’t mean we get cars tossed in from the dump. The position will just be empty until the next season begins. I can promise you we aren’t taking off our uniforms any time soon. I look too good with the words ‘Red Bull’ across my abs.” Roy cheekily grinned, toothpick in between his teeth.

Roy Harper. You thought.

One coquettish athlete was one thing, but two had the potential to test you.

“I hope to see those results, Mr. Harper.” You calmly smiled. You glanced back to Jason. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Todd.”

You sat back in your chair, your badge displaying your name and company around your neck. The symbol recognizable to Jason, but he had reset to his usual coy responses before he did anything about it.

And the press conference continued as usual, the fans loving Jason, interviewers taken with him. They tried to trip him up like you had, but no one had pricked him as much as you did.

——

The chair you sat in was uncomfortable.

Luxurious restaurants had the weirdest looking furniture, twisted in odd shapes to make it more appealing to the rich.

The mood lighting set low to create a kind of intimacy most fancy restaurants aimed for.

Jason sat across from you, waiting on his dinner for the night.

“Thank you for meeting me today, Mr. Todd. The place you chose is…quaint.” You eyed the indoor waterfall and the huge chandelier.

“You should have ordered something, this place is known for its seafood.” Jason smiled, crossing his arms across his chest.

A much too expensive watch on his wrist, in too expensive clothes, in a too expensive restaurant.

Your outfit was formal, you thought it fit the atmosphere of the restaurant and you were only here for business. The contrast of the two of you looked like a boss and his employee from afar. Awkward and not on the same level of pay.

The salary of Formula 1 drivers would make any person look plain next to them.

“I shouldn’t because we’re here to discuss about you.” You plainly said, posture straight.

Jason stared at you, the shadows on his face chiseling out his features more than usual. Casually leaning into his chair.

“So, tell me, Mr. Todd—“ You formally started.

“Call me Jason.” He leaned his arms on the table, more of his face coming into the light, his wrist watch glistening in the warm light.

He probably has his own personal jeweler that shines his watch everyday. You judged internally, your left eyebrow raising. A nonverbal “really?” unconsciously stemming onto your face.

Jason’s smile growing wider at your reaction.

“Well…Jason,” You awkwardly corrected, face going back to neutral. “Our interaction last week has gained…interest. I’ve been told that your management is interested in us discussing another interview, just the two of us?” You picked up your glass of water, gently sipping.

Jason was weirdly silent, watching intently at your moves and words.

“Tell me about yourself.” You continued, gently laying your cup on the glass table. Placing your notebook next to it and a simple pen. The plain stationary complimenting your equally plain outfit.

“Jason Todd, F1 driver, signed onto Red Bull, haven’t changed since.” Jason’s food arrived. “The podium is practically my home, the stuff everyone knows. You could quickly Google all of that.”

You stayed quiet, mindlessly writing his quotes in your notebook. Not much effort put in your handwriting.

“But no one is interested in that.” Jason took a bite, glancing back at you as you stopped writing.

“Why not?”

“Okay, ‘lil reporter, let’s be real for a second. The reason why the internet wanted us to meet again is because of how we interacted.” Jason continued to eat. “You have no interest in me, despite your line of work.”

You put your pen down. Really listening.

“I may not be interested in your career, but I do have a passion in what I do.” You defended yourself, tone firm.

“I’m familiar with your work.” His nonchalance apparent in the way Jason sat. His voice leveled, none of the familiar coquettish attitude in front of you. The real Jason was sitting there.

“You are?” You stammer in confusion. You hadn’t expect his shift in demeanor or that he knew about you.

“Duh, that’s why I tried asking for your name last week, but someone thought it was cute to ignore me.” Jason sipped on his water.

Your mouth formed into a firm line.

You knew that there had to be another person underneath all the on screen charisma, but you didn’t expect to meet him at this dinner that was set up. Hell, you even expected getting cancelled by all his hardcore fans the next morning after the press conference.

“Look, I wasn’t interested because everyone knows you. You rightfully made a name for yourself and I had chosen another athlete to interview that day, but it was scrapped because the ‘great’ Jason Todd, shining beloved driver, had made a comeback after you had flopped for a short while.” You breathed, catching your breath.

Jason stopped eating, watching you look at the notebook on the table, a single sentence written on the blank page.

“Ouch, lil’ reporter.” Jason looked up from his plate, his eyes sparkling at something interesting he’s heard.

“I wanted to interview a woman changing athletics, but I had to drop everything to meet you at a press conference you were twenty minutes late to. So, yeah, I wasn’t overjoyed to meet you that day. I’m sorry if I was rude, you weren’t the one who rejected my story.” You slightly huffed, the most emotion you’ve shown Jason.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jason enthusiastically put down his fork. “Finally some honesty, I was questioning whether you were a robot.”

“Huh?” You had expected Jason to be mad.

“Bad things happen, but we were told to put this together. So, forget the sports stats, let’s show them something a lil’ different.” Jason smiled, a genuine smile that didn’t look at you any differently after you vented out your frustrations about him.

“Like what? Get to know the real you?” You flatly said. “Sounds kinda cheesy.”

“I love to talk about myself, so why not?” Jason shrugged his shoulders.

You sighed.

“Okay—okay, let’s start with—“

“No, no, no.” Jason interrupted you. “Not here, hell no.”

“You chose this place, I thought this was what you wanted.” You questioned.

“The company chose this, I don’t like seafood.” Jason replied, blankly staring at you.

“What?!” You nearly yelled, self-consciously looking at the other tables, nodding an apology.

Jason laughed, truly laughed.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asked, smile reaching his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied, lost in the development.

“Great, we’ll meet for dinner.”

——

You ended up outside of what appeared to be local restaurants, packed inside an outdoor lounge area, surrounded by furnished secan containers locking in the structure.

It was beautiful with the hanging string lights illuminating the seating area.

You looked in awe.

“You’re on time.” Jason’s voice rung on top of your head, behind you.

You turned around, surprised at the sudden silent appearance and the casual clothes he was in, no fancy watch, his clothes looked like normal department store ones, and his hair was messily down.

“Ten minutes late? That’s a new record.” You quipped.

“Ha!” Jason laughed. “I almost didn’t recognize you in casual clothes. You almost looked less robotic.”

Jason leaned down to give you a once over like he was evaluating your outfit.

“Quit it, I’m starving and whatever smell is coming from that side is changing my brain chemistry.”

Jason smiled, following behind as you led yourself by your nose.

“Holy shit.” You took a moment after your first bite.

“Woah, the robot cusses. What a scary lil’ reporter.” Jason teasingly shook his head, taking a bite after his teasing. “Holy fuck.”

“Right?!” You smiled, eyes squinting at your cheeks lifting.

Jason, lost in the food, chewed, taking in all the flavors.

“I could die in this moment and ask the paramedics to pass on my final wish, to thank the owner of the food truck over there.” You sipped your beer.

Jason stopped eating, pausing to look at you.

“What?” You questioned his stare.

“You actually have emotions.” Jason kept his face blank.

“Shut up, I would throw this at you if it didn’t change my taste buds.” You frowned.

Jason laughed. His shoulders shaking from the movement.

You noticed his smile was different. He had actual smile lines on his face, his eyebrows grew softer. It wasn’t the usual look he gave after his races.

“Is this what the incredible Jason Todd does when he isn’t wearing his Red Bull uniform?” You tried to casually prod into his life.

“How smooth,” Jason whistled, catching onto your nosiness. “I came here a lot with my brothers.”

“Wow, Wayne family lore.” You kept your eyes on your food, trying to deter the atmosphere away from the sad tone coming from Jason.

“Not the best history there.” Jason quietly spoke, picking at his food.

“A rich boy with family issues, I would have never guessed.” You smiled at him, playfully punching his shoulder. “I might be a reporter, but I respect boundaries. I don’t like the work of others that invade privacy for selfish reasons, bombard children of celebrities, and other awful reasons. So, trauma dump or not.” You smirked.

“Wow, lil’ reporter is all grown up.” Jason dramatically wiped the corner of his eye, wiping nonexistent tears.

“Never mind, I already know the title of the article.” You flatly said. “Rich, charismatic—“

“Aren’t you a charmer—“

“Pain in the ass, reckless, thorn in my side—“ You continued.

“Okay, alright, that’s enough, I get it.” Jason smiled, despite the harsh words.

You raised your left eyebrow, not fully convinced.

Jason used his thumb to rub your eyebrow back to its normal spot, you closed your eyes, moving your head away from his playful harsh rubs.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” Jason reassured. “You’ll get my all my issues, the one time I was mugged, the reason why I don’t drink, and all my kinks.”

“What?!” You shrieked, Jason laughing at your reaction.

“I’m kidding, I was never mugged.”

You threw your dirty napkin at Jason.

——

After the fulfilling dinner, you got Jason’s number, set another date for a lunch, and you were happy.

It had been a while since you had time to enjoy a meal, no work blurring into your off time.

You could never admit to Jason that these meals felt like dinners with friends, not work at all.

Jason had suggested that you choose a spot. You decided on ice cream, not a lunch spot or a decent meal to talk over, but he didn’t complain.

You sent a location to him for a spot near the harbor.

You met each other, the weather getting colder after the F1 season was over and the new norm of adding a jacket to your daily clothing.

It felt idiotic to get ice cream in cold weather, but it was too late to change now.

Jason came five minutes late this time.

“You’re getting better!” You yelled between your cold hands. “Almost brought a smile to my face!”

You fought a smile as you saw Jason jog to your waiting spot.

“I couldn’t let my lil’ reporter wait too long in this cold weather.” Jason’s breaths fogged around him as he caught his breath. Teasing your cheeks into a slight blush, but maybe that was the cold weather.

You put your hands back into your pockets, trying to keep any warmth in them.

“Let’s go, before the ice cream melts.” You joked, walking away from Jason.

“Why ice cream?” He questioned, catching up to your side.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Don’t you get those cravings for hot chocolate in summer and ice cream in winter?”

“No, only robots think that.” Jason smiled.

You swung to punch his shoulder. Jason didn’t even bother dodging, taking the hit with the biggest grin on his face.

“I’m glad this isn’t a live interview again because if I wasn’t cancelled for giving attitude to you at the press conference, then your fangirls and boys would berate me after this.” You spoke, ears red.

“They wouldn’t do that. They just love trying to get me in as many love scandals as possible.” Jason rubbed the edge of your ear with his fingers, they felt warm to the touch. “Been a running joke for a while. Last week they thought I was dating a valet guy and previously they thought it was a some lady at the auto shop.”

“Does that explain the edits of you with some taco stand guy?” You smirked.

“Aw, you looked me up.” Jason cooed.

“Alright, that’s enough.” You laughed as you walked into the ice cream parlor. The two of you walking in and a pair of teenagers sat alone in the shop.

“One scoop of strawberry please.” You asked the teen worker, you looked at Jason, silently asking for his order.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Do I get the pleasure of you treating me to ice cream?” He teased.

“Just order.” You told him, feigning frustration.

“Banana split please.” Jason excitedly told the worker.

“Wow, really taking advantage of me.” You pulled out your card.

Jason pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, placing it in the tip jar.

You smiled to yourself.

As you sat with your sweet treats, Jason was devouring the ice cream.

“Y’know, now I get why you get this craving.” Jason scooped another bite in his mouth.

“No more robot talk from now on.” You eyed him.

“Sorry about that. I just wanted you to act like yourself. You look better like that.” Jason mindlessly played with the left over ice cream at the bottom of his plastic tray, a small smile forming on his face. “People getting angry at me turns me on.” Jason smirked, his coquettish personality coming back, but it didn’t annoy you as much as it did before.

You choked on your ice cream, the realization to his words in your eyes. You looked back at the other teenagers in the shop, they were in their own world, not paying attention to you.

“Relax, they don’t care about us.” Jason laughed.

You glanced back at him, weighing the thoughts on your next words.

“I bet my praise would be more effective.” You scooped your last bit of ice cream, finishing it.

Jason’s laughed boomed in front of you. He was smiling like a little kid, it lightened your heart.

“I never know what comes out of that pretty mouth.” He couldn’t stop laughing.

Your ears reddened at his words.

You nervously played with your spoon.

Words. Yes, they were just words. No need to overreact.

“Wanna walk by the harbor? I think I need to walk off all this sugar.” You asked Jason, getting up to throw away your empty cup.

The air outside was freezing, but your ears burned.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #writing #racing hearts

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mariasont · 6 months

Text

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Two:

Evelyn glided into the BAU office like the first breath of spring, her heels tapping a confident rhythm against the gleaming floor--a drummer setting the beat for a new day. The sun peaked shyly above the horizon, casting a soft glow that seemed to dance with the spark in her eyes. With a tray of meticulously chosen coffee cups cradled in her hands, she was the portrait of preparedness, memorizing everyone's order--or so she thought.

Her arrival was like a ripple in a still pond, drawing the gaze of every agent in the room. They couldn't help but be captivated by the way her hair cascaded in perfect waves, each strand catching the light as if spun from chestnut threads. Her nails, painted a shade of pink, spoke of a meticulous nature, each tip polished to a flawless finish. The air shifted around her, sweetened by the subtle hint of vanilla that trailed in her wake. She moved with a grace that belied the steel in her spine.

"Good morning, everyone!" Evelyn chirps, her voice a cheerful melody that fills the BAU conference room. She flutters to the table, her movements light. "Your caffeine fix, courtesy of the new girl," she announced with a wink, her words wrapped in warmth.

Each cup finds its way into the hands of colleagues, a personal touch from the newest member. Hotchner's eyebrow arches in silent question as he brings the cup to his lips, the familiar comfort of his morning ritual poised at the edge of disruption.

The first sip is a surprise, a cascade of caramel where stark bitterness usually resides. "This is... different," he remarks, the dryness of his tone belting out a hint of amusement that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Yet, in the curve of his mouth, there's a shadow of a smile, a rare crack in the facade of the ever-serious unit chief.

Reid's curiosity piqued as he approached his coffee with caution. The liquid was dark and unadulterated, a stark contrast to the usual sugary coffee. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, a silent nod to Evelyn's thoughtful gesture. "Actually, this is exactly how I like it," he said, the lie as transparent as glass, accompanied by an awkward sweep of his hand through his hair. "Thank you, Evelyn."

The room fills with soft laughter. It was a rare sound, one that seemed to wrap around the room like a comforting blanket. Rossi, who had just walked in, couldn't but chuckle as he reached for his expresso, served just the way he liked it.

"You'll fit right in, kid," Rossi said, his voice rich with approval as he gave Evelyn a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Evelyn's cheeks flushed with a cocktail of embarrassment and delight, a rosy hue that matched the sunrise peeking through the blinds. "I'll get it right next time, promise," she chirped, her voice a tender mix of hope and humility.

As the room settled into the rhythm of the morning briefing, Evelyn found herself perched next to Reid, her pulse dancing to a nervous beat. "So, I heard you're going to be my mentor," she blurted out, her words tumbling faster than her mind could keep up. "I'm really looking forward to learning from you, Dr. Reid. I mean, your analysis on the last case was just--wow!"

Reid's gaze lingered on her, a silent enigma before his lips curled into a smile that could put the stars to shame. "I'm looking forward to working with you too, Evelyn. And please, call me Spencer."

The name rolled off her tongue, a sweet note in her mouth. "Spencer," she echoed, savoring the familiarity it promised. A shadow of a memory flickered--the bar incident--and her smile wavered, a ripple of uncertainty. Had he heard what she said that night? She prayed not.

The conference room, usually a crucible of tension and intellect, shifted into a training exercise as Hotchner laid out the case before Evelyn. "Evelyn, we have a mock case for you," he declared, his voice a beacon of authority. "We need a profile for a suspect based on the evidence provided. Let's see what you've got."

Evelyn stood, her notes clutched in her hands like a shield, her smile a bright flag of enthusiasm. "Thank you, sir," she said, her voice ringing with the clear tones of determination. "Okay, based on the behavioral patterns and crime scene photos, I'd say our suspect is a male in his late thirties, likely works in a managerial position--someone who's used to being in control."

From the sidelines, Reid observed, his mentor's eyes sharp yet encouraging. As Evelyn unfolded her thoughts, he found himself quietly impressed by the clarity of her intuition and solidity of her logic. She was a natural, her talent shining through like a lighthouse in the fog.

"Also," Evelyn pressed on, her confidence swelling, "he's meticulous, organized. The way the scene is arranged, it's almost ritualistic. This isn't his first rodeo."

Hotchner absorbed her words, his face a mask of neutrality. When she concluded, he gave a slow nod. "Impressive, Evelyn. Very thorough analysis."

Reid leaned in, his gaze locking with Evelyn's. "You're right about the control aspect," he offered softly, his voice a harmonious contrast to Hotchner's commanding tone. "But consider this--the suspect might also crave recognition. The 'ritualistic' aspect could be a signature, a way to stand out."

Evelyn's eyes stayed on Reid; her respect evident. "That's a really good point, thank you, Dr. Reid--Spencer," she corrected, a blush coloring her cheeks.

A hush fell over the room, all eyes drawn to the pair. Then, like a burst of sunlight through clouds, Garcia tumbled into the room, her arms laden with case files and her attire a splash of color. "Sorry, I'm late, traffic was a nightmare!" she announced, but her tone softened as she caught sight of Evelyn. "Oh, you're doing the mock case today! You go, girl!"

Evelyn's smile returned, buoyed by Garcia's infectious cheer. The room came alive with a fresh vigor, the team converging to weave their insights on Evelyn's building profile.

As the discussion continues, Spencer leaned in, his voice a low murmur meant only for Evelyn. "You have a good instinct for this," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with pride.

The moment shattered as JJ burst through the door, her breaths quick and sharp, cutting through the quiet. "Sorry to interrupt," she gasped, "But we've got a situation. The 'Charleston Choker'--he's active again."

A heavy silence fell, the team's focus coalescing into a sharp point. Hotchner's nod was silent, a nonverbal command that set the wheels in motion. "Go ahead, JJ."

With a sense of solemnity, JJ unfurled the folder, her fingers tracing the outline of a lily in a crime scene photo. "Two hours ago, a jogger found a body in the woods outside of Charleston. Strangulation, posed, and..." Her voice faltered, the weight of the words heavy on her tongue, "...a lily placed in the victim's hands."

Reid's mind was a whirl with patterns and profiles, his thoughts racing ahead. "That's the third this month. The escalation is consistent with his pattern."

Evelyn's response with a bright flame of determination, tinged with a concern of the uninitiated. "What's our timeline looking like? How fast is he moving now?"

"Faster," JJ returned, her gaze locking with Evelyn's, a silent exchange of resolve. "Days instead of weeks."

Garcia chimed in from her nest of monitors, "And I just cross-referenced florists in the area. There's a purchase that stands out--cash, large quantities. It could be our guy."

Evelyn's eyes shone, the thrill of her first case igniting a spark within. "That's something! Can we get a location?"

Reid's smile was tinged with pride and a hint of concern. "We can, and we will. But we need to be careful. This unsub is cautious; he's been evading us for a reason."

Hotchner rose, his very stance a commandment. "Wheels up in 30. JJ, brief us on the way. Garcia, send everything you have to the tablets."

The team began to mobilize, the urgency palpable. As they walked out, Evelyn turned to Reid, her voice a mix of excitement and naivety. "This is it, huh? The real deal?"

Reid nodded, the protective edge in his voice unmistakable. "It is. And remember, it's not about just catching him--it's about saving the next potential victim."

Evelyn's first step onto the BAU jet was like stepping into another world--one where the grim realities of their job were momentarily eclipsed by the sheer luxury of federal funding. The plush leather seats, the soft hum of the engines, it was all so... cinematic.

As she settled into the seat beside Hotchner, the reality of her situation began to sink in. She was here, really here, on the jet she'd seen countless times from her father, now filled with the tangible presence of her new colleagues--legends in their own right. And then there was Hotchner, the epitome of stoic leadership, his profile as he reviewed case files was a study in concentration. Evelyn couldn't help but steal glances, each one leaving her more awestruck than the last.

Hothcner's brow raised as his focus stayed on the case file. "Something on your mind, Evelyn?" he inquired, his voice steady.

Evelyn's cheeks were a canvas of emotion, painted with the embarrassment of being caught ogling as she averted her eyes. "Just... taking it all in. It's a lot to process," she said, her voice a whisper of excitement against the backdrop of her new reality.

A smile, rare and fleeting, graced Hotchner's lips. "It can be overwhelming at first," he acknowledged, his words a gentle nudge of encouragement.

The jet engines roared to life, and as they ascended, Evelyn felt the weight of her new reality. She was flying high, both literally and metaphorically on the wings of her dreams and the gravity of their mission. The juxtaposition was dizzying.

JJ commanded the room from the head of the plane, her laser pointer a wand of urgency as she traced the geography of the investigation. "This is where the last body was found," she intoned, each word heavy with the gravity of their task. "And here, and here. All within a ten-mile radius."

Morgan's posture was that of a statue, contemplative and still. "He's got a comfort zone. He's not taking any chances, staying close to what he knows," he mused, his thoughts a fortress around the profile they were building.

"Which means he's likely a local. Someone who blends in, who wouldn't raise suspicion," Reid contributes, his voice a sound of reason.

Evelyn observed with the intensity of a hawk. Her notes were a flurry of ink and paper, a physical manifestation of her fervor to contribute.

"So, we're looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least we know which haystack," she offered, her optimism a beacon in the fog of uncertainty.

Garcia's voice, a familiar melody, filled the space from the screen. "And I'm sifting through it as we speak, my doves. I'll find that needle," she promised, her determination a tangible force even through the digital divide.

Hotchner's nod was a silent decree, a sign of approval and command. "Good. Keep us updated, Garcia," he directed.

The team continues to brainstorm, throwing out theories and ideas. Evelyn sat amidst the seasoned agents; her eyes wide with a childlike wonder. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a palpable energy that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her heartbeat--fast, eager, alive. Hotchner watched her, his gaze the steady flame in her excitement.

There was a softness there, a rare glimpse of approval that softened the hard lines of his face. He saw in her the spark that had once driven him, the unquenchable thirst for justice that was the lifeblood of their work.

Evelyn's idea cut through the hum of the plane's descent. "What if we set up a roadblock? Check vehicles coming in and out of the area?" Her voice a symphony of eagerness.

Rossi smirks at her words. "Not a bad idea for a rookie," he mused, his words a gentle tease wrapped in the velvet of experience.

As the plane continues to descend, the team starts to pack up their gear. Hotchner remained seated, his gaze anchoring Evelyn in place.

"Listen, Evelyn," he said, his tone even, "I know this is exciting for you, your first real case. But remember, this job... it can take a lot out of you. It can change you."

Evelyn nodded, her shine not dimming. "I know. But I'm ready."

Hotchner's expression softened just a touch. "Just don't lose that optimism. It's rare in this line of work, and it's... refreshing."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #reid #dr. reid #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x original character #spencer reid x original character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader x aaron hotchner #Spotify

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luveline · 2 years

Note

Jade! For AU’s could I request a Roan and Eddie b where reader has to go away for a couple days for work and when she comes back home Roan cries happy tears and Eddie is all :0

thank you for your request! eddie and roan ♥︎ fem!reader 2k words

You absolutely do not want to go away for work. You love your life and you hate your job, and it actually feels like a nightmare situation. If it weren't paid you'd probably quit rather than go. But it is paid, and you need the money for the wedding.

Or rather, the honeymoon, the familymoon, to somewhere fancy. White sands, a waterpark. You'd already bought Roan the cutest swimsuit with pink skirts and a bow, and a towel with a hood that makes her look like a dolphin, and those jelly shoes that change colour in the sun. Basically, she's ready for a vacation, except you haven't gotten around to buying the actual vacation yet.

And so. Work conference. Paid handsomely.

Leaving Eddie and Roan behind for a full five days.

It's been a very, very long time since you spent that many days apart.

Eddie is supportive. "Don't get me wrong, sweetheart, I'm gonna miss you like crazy, but you'll be okay. There are phones in Phoenix."

"I won't be okay, Eddie," you say swiftly, "I will not be okay. I will miss you so much, I'll probably die."

He laughs at your conviction. "I'll miss you too, but you won't die. You'll be making the big bucks, bringing home the bacon."

Roan sleeps in the backseat. Your flight is a late one and she'd insisted she wanted to see you off. She hadn't been able to fight the lulling rumble of the car. You're glad that she's sleeping — you'll descend into tears if you have to say goodbye to her.

"This sucks," you mumble, sinking down into the passenger seat.

Eddie reaches over the console to grab a rough handful of your thigh. "This sucks," he echoes. He gives you a squeeze. "Are those new jeans?"

"You were with me when I bought them. I tried them on for you."

He gives you another squeeze. "You sure?"

"Yeah, you said if I didn't get them you'd break up with me."

His smile turns sheepish. "Who, me? I wouldn't say that."

You cover his hand. The airport comes into view, a hulking, towering building that blocks the sun. The irony isn't lost on you.

"Slow down so I can kiss you," you say.

"Why do I havta slow down?"

"You'll crash the car."

"What kind of kiss are we talking?"

You laugh and unbuckle your belt to climb on knees. It is an entirely unsafe manoeuvre that you wouldn't normally do but you're sick with missing him already and Roan isn't awake to see it. You slide your hand into his hair and tilt his head.

"Keep your eyes on the road, okay?" you murmur.

You're delighted to hear his breathless reply, "Okay."

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, all the way down to his chin. He turns his face toward you and you refuse to let him in case you end up in a bender, trying for lovely and ending up sloppy. "Sorry, I think I just slobbered on you," you say into his cheek, punctuating with a last firm peck. You sit back properly and tuck his hair behind his ears. "I love you."

"I love you, too, weirdo," he says, eyes flitting between you and the road, creased soft with his smile.

He pulls up to the curb. He can't park here, so you rush around to the trunk, grab your suitcase and wizz to the driver's side to kiss him again through the window.

"I love you," you say quickly, "I love you. Tell Ro I'm sorry, and I miss her, and I'll be home so fast and we are going to Hawaii."

"We are not going to Hawaii."

"Pick somewhere while I'm away and that's where we'll go. Tell Roan."

He reaches for your hand through the window and kisses your fingers. "I love you, sweetheart. Have a safe flight. We'll be right here when you get back, okay? Chill out."

—

Eddie's lying in bed missing you so much it's driving him crazy when Roan climbs up onto the bed and flops on top of him.

"Dad, you have a case of the frownies," Roan informs helpfully, draping herself over his lap with her handheld fan sputtering away.

"I'm fine."

She turns the fan toward his face, a pleasant break from the stuffy humidity today. She has a case of the frownies too.

"When's she coming back?" Roan asks for the millionth time.

Eddie checks his watch. "Uh, sixteen hours."

"What?"

He sighs morosely. "Tomorrow, babe."

"Did you find a new country?"

He hooks his hands under her armpits and forces her into a hug she didn't ask for but melts against anyways. Her hair is soft under his mouth, and he lays kisses across the top of her head until he feels like he's gonna sneeze. "I give up. If she wants to go on vacation, she has to choose."

"Dad, that's lazy."

"I'm allowed to be lazy. You're lazy all the time." Then, because he's trying hard to be a good dad all the time, "You're not lazy, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just cranky."

"You miss Y/N."

He pats her back. "Yep."

He seems to be missing you a lot more than Roan is. While she'd cried when she woke up and realised you'd already left, she's been okay since then. Eddie supposes it's not too different from the life they'd lived before you met.

Still, he'd expected more. He remembers when Roan was a little younger and she'd cry every time you went home. Funny how the home you'd go to is now their home too.

"Do you want burgers tonight?" he asks.

Roan cheers. "Yes!"

He swings her over his shoulder and carries her squealing down stairs to the kitchen. Her handheld fan gets lost somewhere on the landing.

He sits her on the countertop and gives her a plastic knife, instructing that she chop the lettuce as he cuts the onions. The frying pan warms, and soon the kitchen is fragrant with the smell of hot oil, caramelised onions and melty cheese.

They eat standing up. It reminds him of the old days and the nostalgia is nice, but he can't lie to himself. He misses you. He wishes you were here.

"Babe-" He says, laughing through a mouthful. Roan's got cheese in a huge, impossible stripe over her left cheek. He peels it off using his index knuckle. Roan ignores him, munching through crispy lettuce and tomato with a huge smile on her face.

"Good?" he asks.

"So good! You make the best burgers."

He gives her a slightly greasy kiss on the cheek. "Why, thank you. You chop the best lettuce."

"And the tomatoes!"

"And the tomatoes."

He drops his burger onto the chopping board they're using as a plate and wipes his hand before grabbing her legs to pin her in place. Sure she won't topple forward or sideways into the hot stove top, he reaches around her to toggle on the radio. It's already on a rock station, not necessarily his taste but listenable, and after a few more bites of burger and a glass of juice Roan is bobbing her head happily.

He doesn't expect her to eat it all and she doesn't, picking out the rest of her vegetables and eating what's left of the cheese. He heats her up another slice and lets her eat it with a spoon.

Before he starts on the dishes, he picks her up and helps her wash her slimy hands in the sink. He turns the faucet up too high and they both laugh as they're sprayed in cold water, shirts wet, faces damp.

"Guys?"

Roan literally screams. Eddie slaps off the faucet and whips her around, and there you are in the doorway with your suitcase and the world's biggest smile.

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" you ask, peeling off your jacket and throwing it across the bannister. "I thought I said no fun while I was away?"

Roan drops like a stone out of his arms and hurtles toward you, leaving a trail of water drops on the floor as she goes. You gasp happily and drag her up the length of you, your shirt tucked between your bodies. He's missed you, that little slip of tummy on display, the way you wrap your arms around Roan like she's made of marshmallow, the way your laugh lights up the room.

"Roanie," you coo, dropping a kiss into her cheek, "my girl, I've missed you so much."

And that's when Roan bursts into tears.

Eddie gawps, horrified, and sidles up to you to help. He tucks your shirt back down over your tummy and covers the bump of it with his hand, the other sliding perfect between your shoulders. "Roan?" he asks softly.

Roan is inconsolable. It's startling, the ferocity and thickness of her tears, fat teardrops rolling down her cheeks as she sobs and fists her hands in the neckline of your t-shirt. You look up to Eddie and frown in question. He has no answers for you.

"Sh, sh, princess," you whisper, hand behind her head. You start to sway slowly, the smallest movements from left to right. "It's okay, baby."

"I missed you," Roan sobs out, arms sliding around your neck. She clings to you hard.

"I missed you too!" you rush to say. "I missed you so much, Roan, I'm so sorry. I wanted to come home every single day, I promise."

"I missed you," she says again.

Eddie knows the difference between Roan's crying. There's angry tears during a tantrum, and sick tears when she's not feeling well. There's crocodiles when she doesn't get her way, and the quiet, quick tears after a sad movie.

There are happy tears, like when you went to her mother's day class performance, and there are sad tears, like when she realised you'd left for phoenix. Eddie thinks these tears might be a mixture of the two, plus a smidge of good old fashioned overwhelmedness. Big feelings in a little body.

You drop your lips to her head and kiss her between gentle reassurances. Eddie would help, but he honestly thinks you have it covered.

"Please don't go away soon," Roan says.

You smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

Eddie smashes his cheek to your temple and tries to hug you and Roan both at the same time.

A little later, when Roan is wiped but insistent on sitting in your lap anyways, dozing face pressed to your chest, you start a conversation in whispers. "Eddie, you said she was okay!"

He turns from the frying pan in front of him where your burger is browning, helpless. "Sweetheart, I genuinely thought she was!"

"Don't sweetheart me," you say, a little less incensed. Your anger isn't real, anyhow. Your exasperation, however.

"Sweetheart," he says again, because he can, because you're home, "she was doing okay. Guess she missed you more than she was willing to show."

You look down at Roan, pretty much lovesick. Your shoulders deflate with relief. "I missed her. I missed you both. That was…" You scratch your nails through Roan's hair, lost in thought.

He turns back to your burger. "We missed you too."

He serves up your food with a kiss, and then another when he remembers how long it's been since the last.

"Did you at least pick where we're going for the honeymoon?"

Eddie sits down heavily in the seat beside you and beams. "No, not even slightly."

Your answering groan makes him laugh, and the pit framed from your absence in his chest steadily refills.

"Hey!" he defends himself. "You came home early."

more eddie and roan

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tokki-tteokbokki · 1 year

Text

One by One

Chapter Six: Mirror

Hyunjin x Fem Reader

MDNI

18+

Synopsis:

After constantly fighting with your boyfriend, Jisung, your relationship abruptly ends.

Unaware of the secret hope of your relationship's demise by your friends.

One by one, the boys can't help themselves.

Chapter Foive:

Chapter Seven:

Warnings:

you know the smut hehe :), sad feelings for a little bit, briefly flirty dom minho, semi-public sex, oral (m rec), fingering, spanking, cum tasting/swallowing both sides, unprotected sex, slight mention of voyeurism.

The weekend had gone and past with two more notches in your belt. Monday had come and it was back to regular hours at the building.

You sat in a conference room, trying to will yourself to stay awake during your hour and half long meeting with the rest of staff. You tiredly fiddled with your pen, leaning back into the chair. “Has the editing team started on the Jeju videos yet?” Your department head asked “Yes, I checked in this morning and everything seems to be going smoothly. Shouldn’t be too long until they’re ready.” You sat up straight, slightly pressing your legs together at the memories of Jeju. “What about their upcoming shows in Japan, have the flights been booked?” You placed your pen down and gulped, remembering your last flight “Yes, both departure and returns are in order.” Was he trying to torture you? “How are the boys managing with the schedule?” “Fine, sir. They’ve adjusted nicely, they’ll be in top conditions for their comeback.” You smiled to which your boss smiled back.

At last you were at the freedom of your office, you plopped into your chair. Your eyes drifted around before reaching one of the picture frames on your desk. It was a polaroid of you and Jisung from a movie night you had at his apartment. Snuggled in Pj’s surrounded by pillows and covered by a blanket, Jisung had dragged an annoyed Minho out of his room to take a photo of you two.

Suddenly you were filled with sadness, you remembered the last words you and Jisung exchanged. You never thought he could be so cruel… Your eyes welled up with tears. You reached forward and picked up the frame, once so happy and carefree… now filled with hatred and disappointment. You hadn’t cried since he left you until this moment. Tears began to fall onto the frame, you missed him. You missed the carefree days you spent with him, laughing and playing. You inhaled deeply, wiping the tears from the glass before opening a drawer and putting it inside.

Slumping back into your chair, weakly spun around to see the view from your window. The morning was brisk but the sun was beating through. You lost yourself in thought while watching the traffic below.

Knock knock.

You spun your chair back around, quickly wiping your wet face. “Come in.” The door opened and Minho entered with a smile plastered on his face “What is it?” Your brows scrunched. His smile faded a bit as he approached and noticed the redness on your cheeks and under your eyes. “Were you crying?” He sat down on one the chairs in front of your desk. “What do you need?” You completely avoided the question “Miss him, huh?” Minho huffed, you stayed completely silent and avoiding eye contact. “He misses you too.” You turned your head in surprise “What are you talking about?” “He still loves you, (y/n). He’s just an idiot sometimes.” You rolled your eyes “You should’ve heard what he said to me yesterday. He hates me… In all honesty, I kind of hate me too.” Your mind was frazzled “Before or after Seungmin?” Your eyelids became nonexistent, looking at Minho completely shocked “How-“

“Long story but don’t panic, it’s not a big deal. It’s good, even!” Minho regained his smile “I slept with my ex’s best friends, that’s not good and it is a big deal!” Your expression became angry “You need to keep going.” Minho suddenly became serious. “Huh..?” You choked “There’s only Hyunjin and Felix right?” Minho ignored your confused state “Do them.” He ordered “Are you crazy?” You cracked “You have to be crazy.” Minho leaned forward, putting his hands on your desk “Do you or do you not want Jisung back?” Your heart felt constricted “What?” “Answer the question.” He stood up and made his way around, you turned your chair to the side as he approached, facing him.

He leaned forward, putting his hands on either side of the armrests. “Answer me.” His face drew near to yours, his aura becoming dominant and demanding obedience. “yes.” Your voice was small, closer to a whisper. Minho smirked at your submission. “Then do exactly as I say.” Your heart was knocking against your ribs, “You have to fuck Hyunjin and Felix. I’ll take care of the rest.” He was confident and relaxed, somehow his crazy plan put you at ease. You did miss Jisung, you still loved him. You didn’t want him to leave you. You softly pushed Minho off “Fine.” He steadily backed up and sat back down in his original chair. “Hyunjin is in rehearsal room. Go.” You scoffed as Minho flexed his brows up and down. He was serious. “Better sooner than later.” He stated. You stood up shaking your head “Crazy bastard.” You muttered jokingly as you left your office.

You picked up a couple water bottles along the way to the rehearsal room. You were nervous but remembered what Minho said and found your power to follow through. Coming up to the door you could hear the low boom of the bass. You recognized the beat almost immediately

Play with Fire.

You swallowed hard and turned the knob on the door, pushing it open. The lights were dimmed and you could see Hyunjin rolling his body to the music. He saw you closing the door behind you. “Hey!” He mouthed over the music, you smiled in return. He ran over and pressed pause on the sound system, “Hey” His plush lips upturning into a smile “For me?” He pointed to one of the water bottles “Mhm.” You nodded and gave him one. “Thank you!” “What brings you here?” You slightly froze “Oh, I heard you were here and just wanted to check on you.” He lightly laughed, you were too cute. He looked down at you, admiring how the low light was playing against your features.

“You actually came at a good time, Noona!” Hyunjin exclaimed “Hm?” “I wanted to try this dance with another person, can you help?” You looked up at his kind pleading face. You couldn’t say no to him. “Um, sure.” You weren’t quite sure what he meant but you were curious enough to find out. He cracked the cap on the water bottle, tilting his head back to take a drink, you could see his adam’s apple move with his swallows. How could he make drinking water sexy?

Taking his final gulp, he put the cap back on and set the bottle down. “Alright” He pulled a chair from the side and moved it to the middle of the room, setting it in front of the mirror. “Sit” He gestured to the chair. You put your bottle down next to his and slowly made your way to the chair. You sat down carefully, Hyunjin gave you a cheeky smile. “Don’t move.” He patted your head before running over to press play.

The first notes of the song began to play and you felt the vibration of the bass through the floor up the chair. You stayed still but your eyes followed Hyunjin’s figure begin to move. His perfectly timed movements glided around, inching closer to you. His presence was magnetic to your eyes, you couldn’t pull away. He came closer and closer until he was beside you. You felt his long fingers dance at the nape of your neck.

“I’ve always like to play with fire…”

The bass dropped and so did he. A beautiful display in front of you, his hips rolling, arms moving in sync. He spun sharply on his knees, placing himself directly in front of you. His hands trailed up your legs, his eyes were dark and full of mysterious lustful energy. A true performer. His hands now on top of your thighs, he slowly lifted himself up. His fingers migrated under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His expression was sexy in the most filthy seductive way. A tiny smirk grew as he spun around to place himself behind you.

His body swayed effortlessly, his hand meeting your body again. This time on your throat, he gently squeezed and released you. You body was on fire, you were grateful the lights were dimmed. You could feel how red your face and ears were. You were breathless at his performance. A complete immersion in his dance, you were but a mere puppet now.

He grabbed your hands and motioned for you to stand to which you obliged. Never letting go, he spun you around before moving his body like a siren call. Everything in you wanted to engage more but this was his stage.

The song ended and another began to play with the same dark and sensual vibe. He ran over and turned the volume by a few notches before running back to you. “What do you think?” He grinned, running his fingers through his hair. You were speechless, do you tell him that was probably the hottest things you’ve ever seen? Do you tell him that that was basically an orgasm for your eyes. “O-oh I-I” You stuttered. Hyunjin noticed how flustered you were and as his cheeky self would have it, he needed to tease you. He brought his hand to your cheek “You’re warm.” You swallowed hard “It was really good.” You blurted. He laughed at your shy state. Seeing you quiver with overstimulated nerves just made him want to do more.

He’d thought about it plenty of times. You were a beautiful young woman, your unique look intrigued him. He’d imagine your one of kind body and every curve and dip the universe blessed you with. He was good friend and wouldn’t do that to Jisung but now it was fair game. In this moment, he had you wrapped around his finger and with the new found permission from his Hyungs, he wasn’t going to let this go to waste.

“Hyunjin, follow me.” Chan with Minho gestured for him to exit the room. Thinking he was in trouble his mind started to race to any mistakes he could’ve made. The three of them ended up in Chan’s studio. Chan took his seat at his desk while Minho and Hyunjin sat on the couch. “Uh what’s up?” Hyunjin let out “We want you to do something for us. For Jisung.” Chan stated, leaning back into his chair. “Okay..?” Hyunjin hesitated “Fuck (y/n).” Minho calmly explained. Silence took over the room, Hyunjin giving the most confused side eye to both of them. “It’s not a secret you’re attracted her. Pretty much everyone is.” Chan broke the quiet “Which is one reason why we’ve fucked her.” Minho smirked. Hyunjin’s eyes went wide in surprise “You… What??”

“Just trust us. Plus, you’d get to fuck the body you’ve been trying to paint for months.” Hyunjin turned red, there were dozens of scrapped pages in a notebook of a naked girl he’d been trying to plan a painting of. He’d left the notebook at the studio where it was discovered by Chan. Hyunjin had originally brushed it off as just a muse he had, nothing crazy.

“Wait, you said this is for Jisung.” Hyunjin remembered “Yeah.” Minho started “I’ll explain everything but you have to fuck (y/n). They’ll both thank you for it later.” Hyunjin hesitated but caved. He trusted his elders and there was also the perk that he’s going to get to fuck you. He took a deep breath “Alright, I’m in.”

“I know Minho Hyung sent you in here.” Hyunjin whispered, you could only just look at him, too flustered to utter a word. He smiled deviantly “I know why you’re here.” Your breath became shaky, you nodded your head to confirm. “You know what’s going to happen?” He stepped around to stand behind you. The mirror now served as your eyes behind you. He pressed his full lips to your ears “I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to watch.” His eyes drifted to the mirror.

His lips left of trail of kisses from your ear down your neck, your head falling to the side in pleasure, the music still playing, creating a pace for Hyunjin to move to. You felt his tongue poke your neck before coming back up to your ear. You moaned from the sensation. He pulled away and sat himself down on the chair. You turned, he was seated with his legs spread, his hands on his slender thighs. “Dance for me.” Your stomach jumped at his words, the music was slow and sensual. Without a second thought, you rolled your hips, letting the sound of the song move your body for you.

Hyunjin looked pleased at your display for him, you felt your sexual prowess coming forward you straddled him and began to sway your hips on his. His hands moved to your waist while your arms found themselves around his neck. “God.” He breathed, you brought your face closer to his, the shadows of the dim lighting giving his plush lips the perfect contour. Noticing the fast pace of Hyunjin’s breathing, you took the opportunity to lower yourself farther on him. He smiled as your crotch met his growing boner.

He ground you harder and faster into him, throwing his head back at the sensation. Coming to, he found your gaze. You looked perfect, like a little nymph doing what she does best. His hands moved to your shoulders, slowly pulling your sweater down to expose your shoulders. The highlights of your collarbones caught his eye. Hyunjin’s hands moved to embrace you, pulling you in. His lips met your chest, he lightly sucked leaving a small red mark below your cleavage.

You left your sweater slip off and pulled your shirt over your head. Hyunjin looked in awe at your bosom. Still grinding against him, you leaned forward grabbing him by the nape of his neck, your fingers beginning to get tangled in his hair. He whimpered at your tugging before you began to kiss his neck slowly. “Noona… Ah.” He moaned, your kisses were setting fires in his body. You brought your lips up to his jaw, kissing your way to his lips. Finally, your lips touched and parted. His desperate tongue plunging into your mouth. You could feel yourself getting more and more aroused, your panties sticking to your cunt.

Your hands drifted forward, down to the top of his shirt. You began to unbutton him, eager to expose his flawless body to you. Opened and exposed, you pulled away from the kiss to admire Hyunjin’s slender body. His abs, softly defined and artistically contoured. His fingers unhooked your bra. Your naked chest was a sight he had been yearning to see.

The perfect shape of your breasts, the way your nipples started to stand at attention for him drove Hyunjin crazy. His muse was finally in front of him. He took your nipples between his fingers and gently rolled them, making them harder and more sensitive. “Hyunjin!” You gasped at the feeling. You felt his dick twitch underneath you, immediately you brought yourself to your knees in front of him. His shirt opened, slightly falling off his shoulder, his legs parted, a hand in his hair. He truly was a work of art.

You unzipped his pants and helped him shimmy his bottoms and boxers down. His dick popped out, leaking mass amounts of precum. You didn’t hesitate. You took him into your mouth, sucking all the precum down. He tasted delicious. “Ohh..” He moaned over the music, a hand finding it’s way to your head. He bobbed your head to a slow rhythm, he wanted to savour every second. He wanted to remember every moment to use as his inspiration.

One of your hands reached up to cup his balls “Oh fuck!!” He squealed “Noona, it’s good. Oh my God!” His eyes half opened and his mouth agape, you could feel his dick twitch. He was going to cum and soon. You picked up speed, willing yourself to open your throat to take more of him in. He also cried in pleasure “I-I-I’m… Ah!!” You went down as deep as you could, choking and tears welling up. you felt Hyunjin’s erratic spurts of cum shoot down your throat.

Swallowing it all, you pulled yourself away. Wiping your eye from the single tear that fell. Hyunjin panted, coming down from his explosive nut. It was a brief moment but there he was, his head thrown back, sweat running down his face. In a second he came to “Kiss me” He breathed, you came up and he pulled you into a messy kiss. He pulled at your pants, desperate to be inside you. You backed away for a second “Think you can?” you asked, cutely being concerned. “You have no idea.” He suddenly put you over his knee and ripped your bottoms down to expose your ass. Without time to process, Hyunjin delivered a hard spank to your ass. You yelped, enjoying the sting his large hand brought you. He smacked you again and you jumped in pleasure.

Hyunjin smiled to himself, watching your ass jiggle and your perky cheek turn red from the hits. His finger trailed its away down your ass crack to your wet pussy peeking through. “Ah, so wet..” You watched him in the mirror as he brought his finger to his mouth to taste you. The sight was so naughty, you could’ve came from the expression Hyunjin made when your juice met his tastebuds. “You taste amazing, Noona.” He praised while bringing his finger back to your pussy. You cried out as his finger pushed into you, gently curving his finger to play with that one spot. He took his time pulsing in and out, you watched in the mirror. Splayed across his lap, at his mercy, Hyunjin enjoying the wet feeling and sound as he finger fucked you. “…M-more.” You begged him. He smirked, without a word he forced another finger into your tight hole and went faster and harder. It wasn’t long before you exploded on his hand.

He pulled you back up, you looked at him as he licked his fingers clean. Moaning as he tasted more of you. “Taste yourself.” His mouth on yours, your tongues again at war with each other. You tasted your sweet essence as his tongue swirled around yours.

He positioned you to sit, both of you facing the mirror. Hyunjin held his dick up as you eased yourself on him. Beautifully slightly above average, you felt his length fill you up. Hyunjin looked at the mirror, watching your face contort as he entered you. He let out a sweet whimper as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder to which he took his opportunity to instruct you.

“Dance for me.”

Your skin gained goosebumps at his whispered words. A new song playing, you found your rhythm again, and rocked your hips back and forth with him inside you. The deep grinding sent you both into a frenzy. “You’re so pretty. Look at yourself.” He grabbed you by the neck and made you look at the filthy pornographic scene unfolding. You watched as your body rolled, you couldn’t take it, you began to furiously bounce on him. Hyunjin also watching the scene, his face becoming a fucked out scrunch.

“Look at me when you cum, jagiya.” He started to thrust up, watching your face as he helped you closer to the climax. “Hyunjin!” You looked at him in the reflection, your eyes beautifully dilated from the pleasure. Every movement pushed you closer and closer until you felt his other hand play with your clit. “Ah!!!!” The overwhelming amount of stimulation brought you to your leg shaking orgasm. “Ugh..!!” He pounded a few more thrusts into you before he spilled inside you.

You fell backwards onto Hyunjin, your head falling over his shoulder. His twitching cock still inside you. Both of you completely hazy and oblivious to the body who had entered the room. He stood in the corner frozen, an iced americano in hand and a growing erection in his pants.

tags: @eastleighsblog @catlove83

#skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz x reader #bangchan smut #han jisung #lee minho #skz #skz ot8 #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz ot8 x reader #skz scenarios #lee felix #stray kids smut #changbin x reader #skz changbin #seo changbin smut

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 1 year

Text

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 16: September II

{{ Chapter 15: August II | Chapter 17: October II }} Chapter Directory

this is honestly my fave chapter tbh, i've had it written since may

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, car accident, explicit descriptions of injury, blood, explicit descriptions of panic, explicit descriptions of being overstimulated (in a bad way) ✧ word count ➼ ~6.3k

The events of the past month went unaddressed. Although part of it was due to the two of you avoiding each other, the biggest reason was simply because you were out of town. Paradis University had enrolled in an annual conference for aspiring authors to attend in their junior or senior year. You didn't make it in last year because of the chaos surrounding Zack and moving, so you dropped everything to make sure you were able to go this year to get some networking under your belt.

This resulted in Levi coming home to an empty apartment for the past week. Once again, he found himself feeling defeated whenever he went home and was reminded that you weren't going to be there for the night. He remembered that when you first moved in, he couldn't wait to get rid of you. Now, not having you around felt wrong, as if he was missing a constant in his life.

Being left to his own thoughts whenever he was at home forced him to try to process what had happened two weeks ago. He remembered being in shambles after half of his work that was saved remotely on his computer in lab went down in flames, which would push him back at least another year in terms of graduating. He remembered coming home to see that you had been sitting at the dining table all day, waiting for him. He remembered you hugging him—which was more than enough to throw him into a state of shock (the last time you had hugged him was when you were horrifically drunk)—before kissing him.

He had kissed you back.

He knew that. What he didn't know was what this meant. Was it just emotions running high? The whole incident seemed so blurred to him and you just never addressed it afterwards. Not having you around to talk about it was even worse, although he wasn't even sure if he wanted to bring it up. It could've just been a mistake that you two could forget ever happened.

Levi sighed to himself, scowling at the freshly brewed batch of tea that he had restocked to prepare for the evening rush of customers. The sun had just gone down and ominous clouds were beginning to cover the sky. That translated to more people taking shelter in the café, which meant more work for him.

Good, it'd at least take his mind off of you, although his eyebrows furrowed as he wondered when you'll arrive home, given the incoming storm. He knew it didn't matter in the end. He'd be up regardless. The real question was if that shared kiss was worth bringing up.

As he pondered over if he wanted to subject himself to that conversation, he was distracted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He pulled out his phone and saw that it was Marlo calling.

What the hell does that kid want?

He pressed the answer button and brought his phone up to his ear.

"What?" Levi asked in an irritated fashion. "I thought you didn't get back until tomorrow."

Levi's facial expression quickly transitioned from an irate one to a horrified one as Marlo quickly spoke to him over the phone. The young man was talking so fast that it was nearly incomprehensible, with clear panic present in his voice, which was further muffled by the sound of the wind coming through the phone, which indicated that he was outside.

As soon as Marlo said the words "car accident", Levi's eyes widened and his face drained of color.

You and Marlo were carpooling to and from the conference together.

"I know you're roommates and I didn't know who else to call," Marlo continued to speak as Levi remained silent. "_____'s unconscious and I can't get her to wake up and I don't even know if she's breathing and-"

"What the fuck are you calling me for?" Levi said in a monotonous tone. "Call the ambulance already, you idiot."

Levi began to walk towards the staff locker room, untying his apron as he continued to speak into the phone.

"I'll be there in ten."

He hung up the phone and momentarily looked at the call log that popped up, with his eyes out of focus, indicating that he wasn't actually processing what it was that was on the screen. Levi stood still in front of his locker for a while, unable to put his phone down or put his apron away, being completely paralyzed at the situation that had just been dropped onto him.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, pulling himself out of his stupor.

Suddenly feeling an incredible sense of urgency, Levi threw his apron into his locker, grabbed his wallet and car keys and rushed out of the café towards his own car.

~~~~~

Focusing on the road felt impossible. The storm had come down in full force, limiting the visibility of the road, and Levi couldn't get his own heart rate to calm down. He had told Marlo that he'd get there in ten minutes, but it became closer to twenty due to the storm. If Marlo was telling the truth in that he didn't know if you were breathing, Levi could be much too late by the time he arrived.

He continued to curse at himself as more and more time passed. He had foolishly been wondering if he wanted to bring up something as innocent as a kiss once you got home when you had actually been in a car crash that could possibly take your life. It felt trivial to be stressed over something as small as a kiss. He gripped at the steering wheel upon realizing that, depending on your state once he found you, addressing whatever was going on between the two of you might not be a reality. He could be too late.

He wouldn't have the chance to explore that with you, instead only being left with a sense of regret for not bringing it up sooner.

His eyes that were fixated on the road darted around his field of vision, keeping an eye out for the red and blue flashing lights that indicated the presence of an ambulance. He felt his breathing begin to destabilize the longer he drove without the siren of an ambulance in the distance.

Maybe they had already gotten to you and were on their way with you to the hospital. That would be the best case scenario.

His heart dropped once he arrived at the location that Marlo had sent him. No ambulance had arrived. Marlo's totaled car had its emergency blinkers on and Levi could see that there were parts from the front bumper strewn about the ground. The main frame of the car was completely bent in and the passenger side of the car was caved in.

Levi immediately turned on his own blinkers and got out of the car, holding his hand over his head in an attempt to at least keep the rainwater out of his eyes as he sprinted over to Marlo.

Marlo himself seemed fine, save for a few scratches, but he definitely looked panicked.

Levi felt his panic and anxiety only continue to increase as his eyes searched for where you were, his eyes immediately snapping to the passenger's seat once Marlo pointed out where you were.

Marlo was saying something, but none of it was processed by Levi as he stumbled through the wreckage to get to where you were. Once he finally reached the door, he tugged on it to pry it open after it had gotten stuck due to the main frame of the car caving in.

He let out a sharp exhale once he saw you.

Your side of the car had gotten directly hit and your airbag had failed to pop out. You were leaning forward with your head against the dash, your arm was bent at an odd angle, and blood was gushing out of your nose and down your face from a wound that Levi couldn't begin to attempt to identify.

He could tell that you weren't hurt anywhere else. None of your chest and abdominal regions seemed to have been punctured and weren't bleeding, but he had no idea how bad your head injury was. He could understand why Marlo had panicked.

Shit.

He wasn't processing anything around him. He didn't feel the rain falling on him, hear the thunder crashing above him, or even see anything that wasn't the sight of you leaning forward in that car after having smashed your head against the dashboard. Panic only continued to build in his gut and it took everything in him to pull himself back into reality.

"Shit," he said out loud as he pulled out his phone, shakily dialing for the ambulance again.

After placing his phone back into his pocket, he leaned forward and stepped over some of the debris and placed one hand on the nape of your neck and used the other to gently push you away from the dash, his breath getting caught in his throat once he saw your head bob to the side. He got a closer look at your arm and was able to deduce that your arm was certainly broken, but he still had no idea how bad your head injury actually was. There was certainly more blood dripping down your face than he had initially expected.

"_____?" he called for you, raising his voice so that you would be able to hear him over the pouring rain.

You didn't stir, but he was now close enough that he could see your chest rise and fall. You were still breathing. That at least meant you were still alive.

He felt himself exhale in relief at that one positive fact amongst the ocean of negatives around him.

Levi gently shook at your shoulder in a vain attempt to wake you.

Open your eyes. Come on, _____, open your fucking eyes.

You weren't waking.

"_____!" he called out again, feeling his breath hitch as he saw the extent that you were continuing to bleed from your head wound.

Knowing that you weren't going to wake, he looped one arm under your legs and the other around your shoulders, propping your head up against his chest as he lifted you out of the car. He glanced down at the blood on your face that was mixing in with the rain water and he felt his own heart rate only continue to rise. His shirt was soaked in the mixture that was your blood and the rain water falling down on him. Your hair was matted and stuck to your head from the bleeding.

The worst part was that there was still no sign of an approaching ambulance.

"Fuck!" he yelled out.

He immediately turned around and began carrying you back to his car.

"Stay here so you can report what happened when the police decide to actually get their asses here," he spoke to Marlo as he walked past him. "Keep me updated."

Levi slowly lowered your legs down to free his hand to open up the passenger side door for you, taking care to not put too much pressure on your broken arm. He reclined the seat all the way back and then lifted you into the seat, immediately rushing to the driver's side once you were secure.

He immediately turned on the engine and drove off as soon as he shut the driver's door, desperately trying to deduce the fastest route to the hospital. The last time he drove around in this state was when he had gone looking for you during the New Year's Eve party. The exact scenario that was happening in front of him—finding you injured, in trouble, or hurt—kept playing through his head during that night. Relief fell upon him when that reality didn't come to fruition.

That sense of relief felt stupid now.

"You better stay with me, you goddamned brat," he mumbled as he glanced over at you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he pressed down on the gas pedal to speed his way over to the hospital as quickly as he could.

~~~~~

He couldn't tell if the wetness was from the blood or rainwater. He had taken off his jacket that was drenched in rainwater (or blood, he couldn't tell).

Levi currently stared at himself in the mirror of one of the private bathrooms in the hospital. He didn't want to wander into a public one in the state that he was in.

He was absolutely filthy. His hands, arms, and shirt were covered in blood. He had spent the past five minutes desperately trying to wash away the blood on his hands and arms, but he couldn't get all of it off. Even if he could, it would do little to ease his distress. He had continued to scrub harder and harder in a vain attempt to not only wash off the blood, but also the stupidly uncomfortable feeling that was building in his chest and throat upon seeing your blood that had dried onto him.

He had scrubbed until his arms were raw, yet the blood stains were still there and his distress had not shown any signs of dissipating.

Fuck!

He gripped at the sink and tightly shut his eyes. Everything was setting his senses on overdrive. His eyes hurt from the bright hospital lights, his skin hurt from the scrubbing and the feeling of his wet clothes clinging onto him, his head hurt from hearing the whirring of the ventilation above him and from the smell of hospital cleaners permeating his nose. He felt nauseated and wanted to throw up. He couldn't stop his shaking. Every breath he took felt like he was inhaling fire. Even the loose strands of hair that rested upon his forehead felt like they were stabbing into him.

He had rushed you into the emergency room as soon as he had arrived and felt both a sense of relief and dread once they took you away. He was relieved that you were finally getting help, but also hated not being by your side. He had no idea if you were going to be okay. You were breathing and alive, sure, but he had no idea if you would wake and what state you would be in when you woke.

He felt so stupid for holding back on discussing any of the intimate emotions that arose when he was around you, and even moreso when he recalled the fact that he had tried to push you away. He still didn't know what it was, but he knew it was something—and now he might never get the chance to figure out what that something was.

Levi slowly opened his eyes again and looked at his reflection. He really was a mess. He took a shaky inhale in an attempt to calm himself down. He couldn't last the night in this state and he needed to be by you when you woke up—if you woke up.

He felt his breathing destabilize again upon having that thought.

Shit, get yourself together.

He tried again to take a breath in.

Breath in for four.

Hold for four.

Out for four.

Hold for four.

After a few more rounds of box-breathing, Levi was finally able to loosen his grip on the sink. He felt weak and his lips looked pale. He hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon before he left for his shift and it was now approaching 10pm, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep anything down until he knew if you were okay.

He slowly walked out of the bathroom, silently thanking the heavens that the waiting room was mostly empty. He didn't know how well he'd be able to cope with people walking around and talking next to him. Every additional sound was only contributing to his headache.

Levi collapsed into one of the chairs that was close to the operating room so he could be prepared when someone came out to inform him of your condition. One hand was rapidly tapping on the armrest of the chair and he found himself biting at his nails on the other—something he's never found himself to do. He only recalled resorting to it in an attempt to calm his anxiety down once—when he was waiting to hear back about his mother before she passed.

He remembered calling the ambulance when his mother had fainted after weeks of being sick and weak, kneeling next to her as the ambulance took much too long to arrive at his home. He remembered sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, regularly going up to the front desk asking if she was going to be okay. She wasn't.

He was only eight at the time—and here he was, nearly 15 years later, feeling like he had regressed back into the body of that small child that kept on begging to himself that his mother had survived and being devastated when she didn't. He didn't know if he could go through that again.

Every second that passed was agonizing. He needed to know. He wouldn't be able to rest until he knew. Part of him wanted to just assume that you were dead so that he wouldn't be as devastated when they delivered bad news, but that itself was already too painful for him to bear.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally heard footsteps approaching from the operating room.

"Mr...Ackerman, was it?" someone spoke as they flipped through some papers on a clipboard.

Levi's eyes shot up at the doctor that had approached him.

"Y-Y..." Levi began speaking and found that his words weren't coming out properly, immediately clearing his throat to gather himself. "Yes."

The doctor looked at him and then back to the forms that had your information listed on it.

"Are you her boyfriend, I assume? She had you listed as her emergency contact."

"What?" Levi asked, his eyes widening at both the fact that you had listed him as your emergency contact and at the doctor's somewhat absurd question. "No, I'm her roommate."

The doctor noticed his reaction.

"My mistake," they said, lowering the clipboard. "She just didn't have anyone else listed, so I assumed. That's my bad."

Levi had known about what happened with your parents and your turbulent relationship with your aunt, so he wasn't too surprised at the fact that you had listed him as your emergency contact. However, he would have assumed that you would have put Petra or Oluo instead of him. If he wasn't so freaked out about this entire situation, he might have even felt flattered.

Levi listened closely as the doctor discussed your injuries with him. He was correct in that you had a broken arm, the doctor had mentioned that it had been fractured in the accident, but should heal in a month as long as you didn't injure it again. You had a sprained ankle that should heal within a week. The most concerning injury was your head injury. The doctor mentioned that they did a CT scan and said that you had a "mild traumatic brain injury", which immediately caused Levi to tense up.

"Fortunately, it was mild enough that she should have a speedy recovery and doesn't need to be held here for prolonged observation, but I would suggest the two of you be on the lookout for any developments."

Levi nodded as the doctor spoke, feeling himself able to gradually calm down after the doctor only listed non-fatal injuries. You were going to be okay.

"We'll probably keep her until the morning when she wakes so we can do a mental status exam, but she should be good to go home afterwards."

Levi sat back down in the chair again once the doctor walked off, holding his head in his hand. The sudden wave of relief that overtook him was almost as bad as the distress that he had been feeling for the past few hours.

Thank fuck you're okay, you annoying ass brat.

~~~~~

The last thing you remembered was the blaring horn of a pickup truck that had slammed into your side of the car. There was nothing after that.

Your head felt like it was trying to explode from the inside out. It made it so that you felt nauseated and even attempting to open your eyes seemed to prolong the pain. There was an annoyingly persistent beeping sound next to you that made it feel like there was a hammer pounding at your head every time you heard it.

Your arm felt even worse. You felt like you had gotten punched in the shoulder, except the pain radiated throughout your entire arm. You tried to lift it to maybe stretch it out to normalize the pain, but even your slight movement made a surge of pain shoot through you in such an intense wave that you wanted to cry.

You finally peeled your eyes open and found yourself staring at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room. You weren't in your room. You weren't in your living room. You had no idea where you were. You looked down and saw a pulse oximeter attached to your left index finger and that your right arm was tightly held in a cast.

Your eyes widened and you looked over to the side at a sight that was definitely unfamiliar to you.

You saw Levi sitting at the side of your bed, looking down at the ground with a grim expression. You looked towards your night stand and saw three empty coffee cups, indicating that he had literally stayed up all night watching over you.

He suddenly raised his head as he heard you shuffling around, taking a deep breath once he saw your eyes looking back at him.

He scoffed as he shook his head at you.

"About fucking time," he said in an annoyed tone.

You couldn't see it, but his nails had been digging into his hands for the majority of the night, and it wasn't until now that he had been able to release his clenched fists. The events of the past 12 hours had put him in a state that he hasn't experienced since childhood.

He saw you try to push yourself up and he immediately stood up, placing his hand on your back to help push you up so that you were sitting.

Your cheeks flushed up as soon as he came over to you and even more so when he placed his hand on your back. He was being oddly caring and it made you suspicious.

"Lev', where are we? What happened?"

Levi sat back down once you were up and stable.

"You were in a car accident, _____."

Your eyes went in and out of focus as you listened to Levi explain everything that had happened the previous night. He spoke about how he found you unconscious in the middle of the storm and had to drive you to the hospital himself. When you looked at him again, you saw that his shirt and pants were stained in red, which you deduced to be your own blood.

He had been here literally all night.

"And that's why I had to spend all night dragging your ass to the hospital," he finally ended and you grimaced at the irritation that you could hear in his voice. He was mad. You could tell that he was mad.

"...I'm sorry," you said, which earned you a bewildered look from Levi.

What the hell are you apologizing for? he thought.

"I'm sorry you had to go out of your way for that."

Levi scoffed and shook his head.

"You're such a dumbass."

"What?" you asked, unsure what he was referring to.

"Nothing," he said as he stood up. "I'm going to grab the doctor since you finally decided to wake up. Don't move."

"Not like I can move anyway."

Levi grunted as he turned away and walked out the door, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly into a small smirk. The presence of your normally irritating sass indicated that you were okay and for the most part functional, which was all that mattered to him in this moment.

~~~~~

After being observed for 24 hours at the hospital, you were finally discharged and able to go home. The biggest concern was your head injury, so once it became clear that you didn't have a concussion, the doctor said that you were good to go, but to also keep an eye out for any signs that might reappear once you get home and to come back if they do.

Levi walked closely behind you as you navigated your way down the hall towards the door to your apartment on crutches. You were technically able to walk, but were told not to until your ankle healed.

He stepped forward to unlock and open the door for you and you immediately went for the kitchen table, collapsing down into one of the chairs, letting out an exasperated sigh. Everything was shit right now. You had a sprained ankle and a broken arm, and this was the first time you had been home in a week.

You weren't sure when, but your life living in this small apartment with Levi had quickly become somewhere you considered to be home.

"You'll let me know if you start feeling dizzy or any of that, yeah?" Levi asked, taking a seat next to you.

Although you were here in front of him now, he felt like his body still hadn't fully processed what had happened. He remembered just how panicked he was when he was waiting at the hospital and he still felt like there was another shoe that was going to be dropped. Something was going to happen where you fell and hurt yourself again or a symptom indicating a concussion would appear when he wasn't around to help you. He couldn't help but feel that he was still holding his breath for whatever follow-up disaster was going to occur.

You nodded, shutting one eye in pain as you tried to adjust yourself in the chair. Your entire body still ached and you knew you needed to move or at least do something to distract yourself from it.

"Where's my laptop?" you asked, opening your eye again.

Levi raised an eyebrow at you.

"Are you seriously thinking of doing work the day you get out of the hospital?"

"Where is my laptop?" you repeated, not being in the mood to suffer through Levi's attitude.

Levi sighed and leaned back in the chair.

"Marlo is coming to drop it off along with the rest of your things later tonight."

He frowned as he saw you tense up at his comment.

"How the hell am I supposed to catch up on my work-"

"Are you serious?" Levi snapped, cutting you off. "You're so stupid."

Your tenacity and stubbornness never failed to impress him. You literally had a life-or-death scenario and you were sitting in your kitchen worrying about missed schoolwork.

His eyes darted over to you as he saw an offended look appear on your face. He immediately looked away, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his chest at the thought of hurting you.

Since when did he start caring so damn much about that?

"Get your ass on the couch and rest," he said, motioning over towards the living room before getting up. "I'll get you something to eat that's not the shitty hospital food."

~~~~~

The next 2-3 weeks primarily involved Levi helping you adjust to and heal from your injuries, which involved helping you in and out of bed, bringing you food, and generally helping you move around. He'd wake you up each morning with your coconut milk Matcha without fail, bringing a small smile to your face every time you took a sip.

After 3 weeks, you were able to take your arm out of the outer casing to move your shoulder around, but you still had to be careful to not move it too far or too quickly to avoid reinjuring it. Any symptoms of a possible concussion had long faded and moving your ankle became easier with each passing day.

If you had to choose, the most annoying part was your inability to write. You remembered a point roughly a week after you came home, in which you were sitting in the living room with your bad leg propped up and your laptop sitting in your lap. Levi had been consistently telling you to cut it out whenever you tried to push yourself regarding school, which was made even worse given the fact that you could only type with one hand, significantly slowing you down.

You couldn't afford to be out of commission for a whole month. You sat in front of your computer, desperate for words to come out, and frustrated beyond belief at how slow your typing became due to your right arm being dysfunctional. You quietly groaned as you rubbed your head in pain. You needed more caffeine, and you were already past your third cup of coffee for the day.

"_____," you heard Levi call out from the dining area.

You didn't acknowledge him, only continuing to stare at your laptop screen as you tried to type as quickly as you could with your left hand.

You heard him sigh as he walked over and took your laptop from you, setting it down on the coffee table.

"Cut it out," he said before you could protest, referring to you constantly pushing yourself past your limits when you were still trying to heal. "I'm sick of having to tell you this shit."

You knew that he was right. You couldn't realistically get any work done with the state that you were in, but you didn't want to just lay around either.

With the more days that passed, the more you became frustrated with your inability to take care of yourself that was compounded by Levi essentially hovering over you to make sure that you were okay. It was obnoxious and you relished any time you could actually have to yourself without your overbearing roommate watching your every move.

You currently found yourself laying in bed, glancing at the small ray of sunshine that peaked in through the curtains. You needed to get out of the house. You had been cooped in all week. While you were still supposed to be using your crutches, walking had gotten a bit less painful, which gave you hope that you could maybe go for a "walk" down the street.

You pushed yourself up off the bed, swinging your legs over the side, careful not to put too much pressure on your barely healed arm.

However, the unfortunate timing of when you pushed yourself up versus when you swung your legs over clashed with each other and you felt your bad ankle get caught in the blanket right as you moved. The sudden surge of pain briefly made you disoriented, which was more than enough to send you tumbling to the ground.

You whimpered in pain as you landed on your left shoulder (which was not the injured one, thankfully). Landing on your side also meant that you avoided hitting your head on anything. A dull ache radiated throughout your body as you rolled over onto your back. Every movement you made sent another wave of pain through you, which elicited more quiet groans of pain from you.

You tried to push yourself up, but you had nothing to grab onto and it hurt your arm too much to keep pushing yourself up. Your abs cried in pain whenever you tried to sit up on your own. You were stuck on the ground.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself.

You knew the best course of action was to call Levi for help, but you had been so annoyed with his presence recently, that you'd rather lay on the ground and wait for the pain to pass so you could get up yourself.

However, not much time passed before you heard rushed footsteps approaching your door, and a dejected sigh escaped your lips.

You looked over as the door swung open and you saw Levi standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face.

"Hi," you said with a deadpan expression.

"Why the hell didn't you call me?" he asked as he flipped on the light switch, sounding as annoyed as he looked. "How long have you been down there?"

"Not long. I'm fine, Levi."

"No you're not," he said dismissively as he walked to you and helped you get up off the ground.

"I'm not a child, Levi," you said as you sat back down on your bed, rubbing at your left shoulder in pain. "I didn't need your help."

He stared at you, not believing a single word you were saying.

"So you're telling me you were just hugging the ground for the hell of it?"

He waited for you to come up with a snarky response or excuse as to why you were on the ground after he had heard a thud come from your room that didn't involve you tumbling out of your bed involuntarily.

You didn't have one.

"Dumbass," he finally said. "Stay here."

You sat in your bed with an exasperated expression as you watched Levi walk out of your room after opening up the curtains so that you could get some sunlight. You heard him fumble around in the kitchen for a few minutes before he finally came back to your room with a cup of tea, setting it down on the nightstand next to you. His other hand held your computer, which you found oddly endearing for him to bring to you since he's been trying so hard to get you to not work on anything related to school.

"Could've gotten that myself," you grumbled.

"Could you have?"

You rolled your eyes. Your arm cast was off, so you were able to move your arm around, although it still wasn't completely healed. You waved your arm to show him that you were functional, but then winced as you moved your arm a bit too far back, which earned you another surge of pain running up your arm.

Levi stared at you with an unamused look as he watched you blatantly hurt yourself again.

"Quit looking at me like that," you said, frowning. "I can take care of myself. Arm's healed for the most part. I can walk without those stupid crutches now. I-"

"Can you just shut the fuck up so you can heal from this shit already?" Levi scolded, cutting you off, getting sick of your commentary.

"I don't need you hovering over me 24/7, Levi!"

"Tch. Tell me that when you go for a day without falling on your ass at some point."

He glanced at you again and saw that you were scowling at him.

"I can take care of myself," you said, clenching your fists in frustration, "so quit wasting your time feeling like you have to watch over me."

Levi remained quiet for a few seconds as he turned away, averting his gaze.

He spoke quietly.

"I just don't want to lose you again, you dumbass."

It had been a few weeks since the accident at this point, yet that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop never left. Levi still felt like any minute, something else would happen and you'd slip from his grasp. He couldn't get over the feeling of his heart absolutely sinking once he saw your condition in the wreckage or how he had relentlessly scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until his arms were raw in that hospital bathroom in a desperate attempt to scrub away all of the chaos running through his mind as he waited for you in the operating room. He felt that if he had slipped up in any way, something would happen, and you would have to pay the price for it.

"Shit," he mumbled. "Why do you have to do this to me, _____?"

"Do what?"

He looked down at his hands, remembering the sight of them after he dropped you off at the hospital. The events of that stormy night kept running through his head, as if he was trapped in it.

Levi looked back up into your eyes. You were here in front of him, awake and breathing—the opposite of when he found you in that car, unconscious, bleeding, with unstable breathing patterns. You were here. You were okay. He had no reason to still feel as panicked as he was, yet he did.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he reached out to you, closing the gap between you, and planting his lips onto yours. His hand rested at the side of your face as he held you.

You tensed at first at the sudden gesture, but quickly relaxed into it as you kissed him back, placing your hand on top of his.

He pulled back from you and avoided your gaze as he whispered:

"I can't lose you again."

You noticed him gripping at your bedsheets with his other hand and the pieces clicked together for you.

It wasn't that he thought you couldn't take care of yourself or that you were incompetent. He'd been so overbearing because he was afraid of losing you. You had guessed to an extent how rough that night must have been for him, but you had no idea about the magnitude of just how bad it was.

You felt your bed shift as he got up and your hands trailed off him as he pulled away.

"I'll be in the living room," he said quietly, still avoiding your gaze. "Call me if something happens again."

You reached out to him as he walked away.

"Levi, wait-!"

Your bedroom door was shut before you could finish your plea for him to come back, and you fell silent.

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @v4mp-wife @moonchild-angel @astri-ackerman @auriuswolve @noctemys

#tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: car accident #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #modern!au levi #coffeeshop!au levi #college!au levi #fics: matcha

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bongaboi · 2 years

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Louisiana: 2022-23 Sun Belt Men's Basketball Champions

PENSACOLA, Fla. -- Themus Fulks scored a career-high 23 points, Jordan Brown had 13 points and 16 rebounds and second-seeded Louisiana beat No. 8 seed South Alabama 71-66 on Monday night to claim the Sun Belt Conference tournament championship.

Louisiana (26-7) secured its 11th NCAA tournament berth and first since 2014.

Louisiana's first lead of two points or more came with 12:06 remaining in the second half on a putback by Terence Lewis II for a 49-46 advantage.

After South Alabama went 1 of 2 from the free throw line, Jalen Dalcourt made a jumper in the lane with 27.7 seconds left to extend Louisiana's lead to 67-64. The Jaguars struggled all game from the stripe, going 17 of 28.

Isaiah Moore made two free throws with 17.1 seconds left to get South Alabama within 67-66, but Lewis answered with two makes at the other end to regain a three-point advantage. South Alabama guard Owen White had a long 3-pointer rattle out in the closing seconds, and Kentrell Garnett sealed it with two free throws at 1.4.

Dalcourt finished with 13 points and Lewis added 12 points for the Ragin' Cajuns. Dalcourt and Fulks each made three of Louisiana's eight 3-pointers.

South Alabama (19-16), which knocked off No. 1 seed Southern Miss 78-61 on Saturday, was going for its first NCAA tournament berth since 2008.

Moore scored a career-high 33 points for South Alabama. Kevin Samuel had two blocks in the first half to set a South Alabama single-season record with 86. Samuel also scored 12 points and grabbed six rebounds.

Moore, averaging 18.5 points per game, scored 13 of South Alabama's opening 20 points to help build a six-point lead. The Jaguars led 37-33 at halftime behind 63% shooting and Moore's 16 points.

#2023 #louisiana ragin' cajuns #march madness #college basketball #sun belt conference

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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year

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Hi Lofty!!

I love all your work and can't get enough of your Healthcare AU!🖤

Question though: We know the boys don't do great self care especially if they are sick or hurt. Malon seems like she would be just as strong headed and always say she's fine. But how would Time react to seeing her name pop up as a patient in the ED?

Like if she got into a car wreck (not a horrific one, though I'm sure Time would lose it) or had an incident with a horse and got banged up, maybe even a concussion, and was trying to refuse treatment because she's "fine", only for Time to burst in.

How would Time react to it all??

The sky had steadily darkened as they drove. Warriors' usual cheerful chatter died down before he'd finally started breathing softly in gentle, rhythmic patterns of sleep. Time glanced over at him on occasion with a fond smile and then he gently turned on a quiet music station on the radio to fill the void.

The emergency medicine conference had gone very well. The boys had learned a great deal, Time's talk was a success, and Sky had even gotten to see Sun briefly. After a good four days relaxing at the shore and getting training hours under their belts, they were ready to return home.

Time had one final class to teach today before they'd left, and he'd turned off his phone as a result. It was only now that he realized he'd forgotten to turn it back on, but he wasn't going to mess with it while he was driving. They'd be arriving home soon enough.

An hour later, Time escorted a sleepy Warriors to his apartment where Wind was cheerily waiting. After a few shared words and laughs and some hot chocolate, Time headed out. As he pulled into the long driveway leading up to the ranch, he saw a single light behind him and blew out a small sigh of relief - it was Sky's motorcycle, which meant he'd gotten there safely as well. Legend and Hyrule had carpooled separately, and he'd have to text them to confirm they were home.

When he finally parked the car and Sky pulled up beside him, Time turned on his phone. It vibrated once, twice, three, four, five, six times as he climbed out of the vehicle to check on Sky. Good grief, did the world end while I was driving?

It was probably the group chat.

Sky yawned as he pulled off his helmet, giving Time a tired smile.

"Hungry?" Time asked. "I'm sure Malon has something prepared."

"Food sounds nice," Sky hummed as he grabbed his luggage from the car and the pair made their way inside. While they walked, little details jumped out at Time, because no matter the situation or his level of calm or exhaustion, he couldn't not notice his surroundings.

Malon's car was missing. The gravel leading up to where it normally parked was tousled a little, like feet had shuffled back and forth.

Time paused.

Sky was unlocking the door, oblivious to the environment, but did note, "I wish they'd left the light on so I could see the key."

Lights. There were no lights. Not a single light in the house was on.

Time pulled out his phone, anxiety beginning to bubble in his chest.

He had multiple missed calls and more texts than could be displayed on the screen.

Sky entered the house just as Time unlocked his phone, and the pilot called confusedly, "Nobody's home!"

Hey. Tried to call but went straight to voicemail. Malon's sick. We're at the ER. She's stable, just dehydrated. Needs fluids. Don't know if staying overnight. She'll probably kill them first.

Time read the text from Twilight. The one, single, solitary text. The rest had been from Wild, who was anxiously giving update after update.

Then his phone started blowing up. Legend, Hyrule, Warriors, Four, and Wind were all texting now, having apparently just being told by Wild. Between that and the time stamps on the texts, they had just missed them.

Sky walked out slowly, phone in hand, likely reading similar information from the others. His head shot up immediately, eyebrows crinkled together in worry.

"Stay here," Time advised as he made his way back to the car, mind fixating on the issue.

"But--"

"Stay," Time insisted tersely. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so insistent on the matter, except that it gave him one less person to worry about if Sky wasn't perseverating on the matter alongside the surgeon himself as he drove to the hospital.

The drive felt like an eternity. He tried calling Twilight and got no answer, which only made him more worried. Wild wasn't answering either, and his persistent texts had stopped.

Twi just said she needed fluids, he tried to reassure himself. That's an easy fix.

But when had she gotten so ill that it was needed? What had happened? They'd only been gone a few days - what had he missed? He'd just talked to her yesterday, she'd seemed fine!

After an admittedly sloppy parking job in the garage, Time walked hastily into the emergency department, making his way past the triage desk and badging himself into the department. He caught sight of the status board and immediately found her name.

She was in one of the acute care areas. That was a good sign, at least. But the waiting room still had a few people in it, which meant she was higher priority than others. That could potentially be a bad sign.

His stomach churned even more as he tried to focus instead of spiral. He couldn't quite silence the pounding of his heart in his ears, he couldn't stop biting his tongue anxiously as he walked to her room. His usual, calm demeanor was quickly crumbling, and he was losing control of the situation fast.

When he reached her room, his phone buzzed just as he opened the door. He wasn't entirely sure how he would act, seeing his beloved wife in a stretcher, but the immediate wave of dizziness that slammed into him wasn't the first reaction he'd expected to have.

Time leaned heavily on the door, and Malon's surprised expression quickly changed to alarm. "Honey, I'm okay--"

"You're--" Time stammered, taking a shaky breath. "What's wrong?"

Twilight hastily walked up to him, guiding him to a chair beside her bed. He didn't quite notice Wild or Twilight for a moment, holding his wife's hand as she gave him a reassuring smile. It was less comforting than it should have been, given that her face looked drawn and tired and was drenched in sweat.

"I'm okay," she repeated tiredly. "Just a little sick. Threw up a lot. They gave me Zofran, so I'm doing better. Boy do I love that stuff."

"You look awful," Time blurted out. "You're pale, you're diaphoretic--"

"Oh stop spouting out an assessment," Malon hushed with a weak chuckle. "I'm just dehydrated. Couldn't hold anything down for a while. Look, see, they're giving me fluids now."

She held out her arm for inspection, and Time examined the 18G IV in her AC. She'd already gotten a 200mL bolus, and the fluids were still infusing. He looked at the monitor and saw the tachycardia, saw the hypotension, and he swallowed thickly.

Shock. She'd been going into shock.

"Do they know what's wrong?" he asked. "What's causing this?"

Malon blew out a dismissive breath. "Oh, just a bad stomach bug. Hit Wild earlier in the week."

Time immediately turned his attention to the two young men in the room, watching Wild shrivel into a corner. Twilight was strangely stiff, his expression closed off as his hand settled on Wild's shoulder.

"Boys," Malon directed at the pair. "Do you two mind getting me some water and a damp washcloth?"

The pair took the hint, exiting the room wordlessly and closing the door behind them.

"Link," Malon said gently, garnering her husband's attention. "I'm okay. I promise. You look paler than I do."

"I wasn't here," Time said suddenly, his voice choking up, his guilt and anxiety swirling in an uncomfortable mess of overwhelming emotions that he couldn't express in any given word. "You're sick. I'm--"

"You can't control everything, hon," Malon insisted. "Life isn't your OR."

Time bit back a rebuttal, because he knew she was right. It still made him feel utterly helpless, like he had been so, so long ago when he was a child. He hated it.

But he latched on to her words, latched on to the facts, latched on to the reality of the situation like he was in the OR. Because he could think in the OR, he could focus in the OR.

Malon is fine. She's sick, but she's stable. She was in shock but she's getting fluids. She's awake, her mental status is normal, she's oriented and talking to me.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked.

Malon laughed. "Spoken like a true surgeon. Looking at the numbers before you look at your patient."

Time gave a pleading pout, though her little jab did cheer him up. If she was able to make quips about his patient care, then she wasn't feeling too terrible.

Then his wife sighed, leaning her head into the pillow and staring at the ceiling. "I'm tired. But not as nauseous as I was. And the fluids are helping. I knew I needed fluids. Figured I could handle it at home. Tried ginger ale, tried sprite, little sips of water between vomiting episodes, but I just couldn't keep anything down. I..."

Malon bit her lip, and the worried look on her face made Time's anxieties return tenfold.

"You what? What's wrong?" he asked quickly.

"I might've asked too much," Malon said, her voice shaking a little. "I just--I felt so ill, and I knew I was losing the fight with staying hydrated enough. I... I asked Twilight to do something I shouldn't have."

Time glanced out at the doorway, but with the curtain drawn he had no idea where the boys were. When he looked back at Malon, she was staring at the curtain too.

"What did you ask?" he prompted.

"I asked him to start an IV on me," Malon said finally, her expression falling further. "My hands were shaking too much, or I would've tried to just do it myself. I know he's just a basic EMT, but I also know he's done some tech work in the ED, so I figured the others had taught him how to start them. He... he really did try, but I was too dehydrated and the only vein he found blew, and... I think he feels bad about it. I shouldn't have asked him. But I was desperate and thought I could just fix it easily at home."

Time's eye traced along Malon's arm to see a small bruise that had developed from Twilight's attempt. He felt equal parts upset and concerned.

"This whole thing's a stupid mess," Malon grumbled. "The sooner I get some fluids the better. I think they'll just give me some ODT Zofran to go home and we'll be done."

She made it sound so normal. As if his wife weren't sitting in a hospital bed. As if his wife weren't so acutely ill she'd had a medical emergency.

Time spiraled a moment longer and then buried his face in his hand, leaning an elbow on the side rail of the stretcher. He and Malon had both seen and treated infinitely worse.

But it was different when it was a loved one.

This isn't even the first loved one you've seen in this position.

"I swear, you're all conspiring to each have a hospital stay," Time muttered, finally grounding himself in some levity as he squeezed his wife's hand.

Malon laughed at that. "Well, mine's less exciting than Twi almost blowing up his appendix. Or Sky getting shot. Or anything Wars has done."

"Wars didn't need an ED visit."

"Not yet, at least."

Time sighed, rubbing his face and then smiling at his wife. "Well. Either way. You're not getting out of bed for a few days."

Malon huffed, cheeks flushing in defiance. "I have things to do--"

"You're sick. I'm taking care of you."

"You? You're a surgeon! I'd be better off being taken care of by one of the barn cats!"

Time spluttered, "I can take care of my own sick wife!"

"You're not a nurse," Malon fired back. "You don't know how to take care of a patient, just how to fix them. There's a difference."

"Well, then, you'll just have to teach me," Time argued stubbornly, kissing her hand. "I'm taking care of you whether you like it or not."

Malon sighed, put out, and relented. Then she gave him a cheeky grin. "I'll be sure to demonstrate how you act when you're ill."

"Malon--"

"All the whining and moaning--"

"Malon, be merciful--"

"And the constant neediness--"

"That's just playing dirty and you know it."

His wife's laugh was far more energetic this time, giving him some peace in his still anxiously fluttering heart. Time took her hand in both of his once more, stroking it lovingly.

The peace of the moment was shattered when the curtain was nearly torn off its hooks as Legend led a stampede of young men into the room.

"Malon, are you okay--"

"Who's your physician, I'll make sure they're actually getting stuff done and moving things along--"

"Forget that, who's her nurse--"

"Are you hurting? Wild said your stomach hurt before--"

"Did the Zofran help?"

"Malon can we grab you anything?"

The pair stared at the group, overwhelmed for a moment, and then Malon smiled, eyes filling with tears. "I guess I have a lot of nurses taking care of me."

"You do," Time assured her, taking the damp washcloth out of Twilight's hands and placing it over her forehead. Malon hummed in contentment as she was surrounded by her husband and her boys, and despite the chaos of the area all around them, there was at least peace in one room in the emergency department that night.

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aknosde · 1 year

Text

bedside

// Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard // Post-Canon // Established Relationship // Traveling // Fluff // essentially andrew waxing poetic about neil, cars, & sunlight // 1k

ao3

—————

There is something inherently exhausting about banquets.

Andrew, as a man of taste, appreciates good food, nice clothes, and expensive cars. He does not appreciate the flight from Denver to L.A., nor does he appreciate L.A. itself; it’s hot and sticky when he touches down, air rushing into the depressurizing cabin, and he feels sweat materialize where his glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. LAX is, as always, a shithole of people and luggage. Everything that moves here always seems to knock into anything that isn’t—case in point: his suitcase into a tree, and a toddler into his legs. It takes Andrew five minutes to even find a corner to tuck himself into and turn his phone off airplane mode.

Perhaps it’s not banquets, but travel.

The first thing he does is call Neil. At least he has someone to pick him up from his personal hell.

Neil flew down from Chicago earlier in the week to catch Kevin’s last qualifying match, which against all odds had taken an absurd amount of cajoling by both he and Kevin. What it should’ve been: Neil gives his last press conference of the season and flies out to see Kevin, they then drive down to L.A. together. What it was: Neil assuring Andrew he gould always get to Denver to make the flight together approximately fifty times, packing over facetime because despite being a seasoned professional Neil would still wear jeans and a leather jacket to every official event if he could, and a debate on whether or not they wanted to share Kevin’s car.

“I’m all ready here,” Neil greets. “Pickup 3A, and making a hell of a lot of Ubers mad.”

“As you often do,” Andrew says before hanging up.

He makes his way down to and through baggage claim swiftly, feeling superior to everyone forced to wait for their checked bags on the slowest conveyor belt known to man, and out into the blanketing heat. His reading glasses have been tucked into his shirt pocket and replaced by the ‘cereal killer’ baseball cap Allison got him as a gag gift a few years ago, which makes many appearances when he doesn’t want to show up on the average exy fan’s radar. Neil’s used an old puff-paint pen of Renee’s to draw lion heads on the underside of the bill.

“Hey,” Neil says, grinning, as Andrew steps up to the atrocious red convertible Neil’s lounging in the driver’s seat of, ignoring the myriad of ride-share drivers sending him dirty looks and honking their horns—Andrew realizes that while the verdict of sharing a car with Kevin had been no, they hadn’t made a decision about rentals, and this is apparently what Neil’s come up with (though doubtlessly influenced by… Matt is his best guess, possibly Allison). It looks annoyingly good on him. “Bag?”

Andrew hoists his case up and Neil unbuckles to lean over and toss it in the back row. He’s wearing a pair of aviators—Ray Bans Allison also purchased, not as a gag gift but in pursuit of her and Andrew’s continuous and combined efforts to encourage Neil to dress at least half as good as he looks (they’ve been dissuaded from “as good as he looks” over the years)—and in the week since Andrew’s seen him, he’s managed to turn deep brown, his hair catching auburn in the sun. Before he can open the door Andrew touches Neil’s wrist where it's propped on the passenger seat and kisses him over the parking brake.

“Hey,” he finally says when they separate.

“Hi,” Neil responds, looking up at him. He’s close enough to see Neil’s eyes warm and happy through his sunglasses.

Andrew doesn’t bother with the door this time; he hoists himself straight into the passenger seat. Neil takes the car out of park, but keeps them right where they are.

“How was the flight?”

Neil pushes his shades up on his head as if he needs to see Andrew wholly when he answers. The gold ‘A’ pendant on his necklace flashes in the light as he shifts. Andrew can feel the ring and blank marriage certificate in his bedside table warm and glow from halfway across the country.

“Typically terrible,” he says, but even though he means it he can’t bring himself to be serious.

“Yeah?” Neil asks, that smile on his face, and he kisses Andrew this time.

It’s deeper but they keep it gentle, maybe because Andrew’s exhausted, but maybe because they’re still saying hello. It’s soft and easy, kind of like greeting someone it’s always nice to see. The car jerks forwards slightly, and the driver behind them lays on their horn in two long, annoyed bursts. He can feel Neil smiling against him as they break away.

Andrew watches him put his sunglasses back on and flick his turn signal, rest both hands on the wheel. He’s tempted to make a joke about Neil’s foot slipping off the break—something about how he never took a driver’s test, or how the FBI didn’t check before giving him his license—but then Neil looks at him and he notices how he’s glowing in the sunlight.

“You think a nap can fix it?”

He imagines Neil lying next to him, reading whatever fifth-hand, out of date, textbook on linear algebra or theoretical geometry he found at Goodwill last week; the cool, clean white sheets and pristine shower of a hotel room; waking up to Neil crouched by his side of the bed, telling him Kevin’s all ready found a spot he’s gonna love for dinner, they’ve gotta get moving. Andrew adjusts his cap and flips the bird to whatever asshole is behind them. Neil in his bed can fix a lot of things.

“If you’ve got AC.”

Neil huffs a laugh and turns back to the road, pulls out of his spot as smoothly as Andrew can sweep a ball out of the air. Andrew turns the air on and leans back in his seat, angled towards Neil; he spends the ride to the hotel thinking of that ring.

#anyways i wrote this thing to show neil having an AJM tattoo when they were married and then didnt even make them married. what.#end notes as always can be found on ao3 #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #all for the game #max.txt #max.fic #fic: bedside

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infinite-orangepeel · 2 years

Text

a whumpy af steve harrington excerpt from ch. 1 of my soft dom eddie fic

aka this boy has a lot of unresolved trauma & eddie munson is going to help him heal

(the rest of the chapter that contains the actual smut will be linked below, i’m scared of tumblr shadow banning me again for posting the full thing in here)

TW: panic attacks, discussions of mental illness, suicidal ideation, vomiting/nausea (as symptom of panic attacks), disordered eating habits, ptsd, heavy themes, lots of emotions

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

It comes down to this. Steve Harrington doesn’t trust himself. Not anymore. Not since everything went to shit in The Upside Down and Max ended up on life support.

Honestly, he didn’t feel all that abnormal about it for the first few months. It was easier to ignore the magnitude of his problems when his friends were clearly struggling right alongside him. There was something about strength in numbers or a sense of community–being convinced he wasn’t the only one totally fucked up in the aftermath of the final battle.

Regardless, it kept him afloat for a while.

Robin often called in the middle of the night to vent about her own flashbacks and the nightmares they prompted. The two grew accustomed to seeking comfort on opposite ends of the telephone line, twisting the cords around their fingers and whispering “ me too, I have that one too,” as to not wake the monsters underneath their beds. Sometimes, it got so bad that the sun would rise and they’d still be trying to snap each other out of it. Yawning through the agony of another sleepless night and fixing themselves cups of black coffee to alleviate the ensuing exhaustion.

Lucas had shown up on his doorstep enough times that Steve finally had another key made. He was tired of coming home from work and seeing the boy sulking there out in the cold–grief written plainly all over his face. Steve handed him the key on a carabiner clip–so Lucas could comfortably carry it around on his belt loop–and assured him he was welcome day or night. Steve’s parents had moved out of town after the infamous Hawkins’ “earthquake,” so Steve was solely in charge of approving any and all guests at the Harrington household. Lucas, of course, was at the top of his list–he was family, they all were. As long as the boy agreed to let himself in, warm-up on the couch, and grab a snack from the pantry–he could come over any hour he needed. No more rotting outside with tears forming icicles on his cheeks. Steve wouldn’t have that.

El refused to leave her bedroom–holed up beneath a fort of blankets and wouldn’t speak to anyone for days on end–until Hopper called up the gang and they elected ‘Babysitter Steve’ to go handle it. He was the most qualified in their eyes, what with his protective older brother attitude, gentle approach, and dorky jokes. Sure enough, El didn’t banish him right off the bat–not like she had with some of the others–namely, Mike Wheeler. She let him get close without protest and when he hugged her, she fell apart against his chest–guilt pouring out of her at the fact that she hadn’t been able to save Max from Vecna. He brushed the knots out of her hair with cautious fingers and listened. She just needed someone to listen. That was all it took. By the end of the night, she was sandwiched in between him and Hopper on the well worn couch, openly laughing at the plot of Pretty in Pink.

Nancy wore a poker face for the most part, but she wasn’t completely immune to the lasting effects of trauma. She held it together in public, like the first lady at a brutal press conference–politely smiling and waving for the crowd. She’d made it her personal goal to distract the kids from what was really going on–with Max–back at the hospital. This manifested itself in her implementation of weekly game nights, arcade afternoons, and community service outings. Naturally, Steve attended more than a handful of these events–lending a helping hand to rangle the younger teens. It was only once the kids had been dropped off at their respective addresses that Nancy would let her artificial smile fall and tell Steve what was really on her mind. The loss, the fear, the worry. He’d hold her hand– platonically of course, it wasn’t like that anymore –across the center console of his BMW and nod along to the tune of her suffering. It was one he knew well, played on repeat.

Thus, Steve managed his own anxiety by keeping that of the others at bay. His role became narrowly defined as the one who would help you regulate your breathing through the course of a vicious panic attack, the one who was considered reliable in a world that had become anything but. It gave him a sense of purpose and a reason to keep moving forward. He couldn’t simply hide away in his oversized bedroom when he knew his friends were busy laying catatonic in theirs. So, day after day, he pulled himself up by his bootstraps, usually forgot to eat, chugged excessive amounts of caffeine, and set out to mend all of the broken wings but his very own two.

Eventually, there was healing. The ball started rolling around the time Max woke up. After four months of breathing tubes, IV’s, heavy medications, and machines keeping her alive–she opened her eyes one day and slowly began to inhabit her body again. Within a few weeks of round-the-clock physical therapy, solid foods, and monitored pain management–she was discharged from the ICU and returned home. Cane in hand, coke bottle glasses on the bridge of her nose, and slight gaps in memory–she wasn’t the same, but she was as close to it as she could be and that was all that mattered. She was breathing on her own accord–beautiful, steady inhales and exhales–that alone was a miracle in and of itself.

After Max settled back into her normal life, everyone else seemed to follow suit. Once the high school was fixed up by the hands of a devoted construction crew and summer came to a close, the kids started in on their sophomore year. Fall semester provided a new routine that included basketball practices, D&D campaigns (Will Byers quickly ascended to President of Hellfire Club in Eddie’s place), and tests to study for. On top of all that, somehow Steve was going to have to teach each of the little twerps how to drive, which absolutely terrified him. However, there was no way he was going to let anyone else instruct his kids on how to be safe behind the wheel. Yeah, no fucking way.

The Party finally had the opportunity to just be kids–for the first time in almost four years–and Steve was happy for them. Really, he was. Now, they could ride their bikes around the neighborhood–just for the heck of it, not because they were pedaling away from otherworldly monsters. They could waste time down by the lake and not have to search the murky waters for the dead body of their missing friend. They could be innocent and stupid and naive and not have to worry so much about the life altering consequences.

And, as happy as he was for them, Steve just couldn’t help but selfishly miss the era in which Lucas spent most nights on his couch–talking about nothing until the wee hours of the morning. The era in which El asked him to drive her to Family Video each Saturday–ready to pick out the next chick flick that would make Hopper groan. His schedule and his house suddenly felt a lot emptier without a bunch of rugrats calling upon their favorite babysitter. The silence often felt like it could swallow him whole. He hated it.

As for Nance and Robin, they had their own paths to explore–ones that unfortunately, didn’t directly involve Steve. That was okay, but it also wasn’t.

Nancy was reapplying to Emerson–early decision–and like everything else she did, she was hellbent on her college essays being absolutely perfect. She made the local library her second home as she wrote and edited and then edited some more. Steve knew there was not a chance in the world that Nancy Wheeler wasn’t going to be accepted to the school of her dreams and become an incredible journalist. She was destined for greatness. Always had been.

Robin landed herself a girlfriend and was so lovesick it hurt. Vickie quickly became the center of her universe. She had this insane gravitational pull on Steve’s best friend and he’d never seen anything like it. Robin looked like a whole new person, shining from the inside out. They did their best to include him in their plans on a regular basis, but Steve really didn’t want to burden them with his presence. Not that the girls ever made him feel that way. He was just a bit too aware of the fact that no couple looks forward to having a constant third-wheel, so he backed off when he could and lied about being busier than he was–acting like there was a laundry list of activities for him to attend to.

Truthfully, he spent most weekends alone in front of the T.V. or picking up extra shifts at the video store. Unsure of how he suddenly became the only one stuck in the past, haunted by creatures that no longer walked the Earth. It didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t he move on like everyone else? Max had been kissed by death and yet, she made it to school every day and somehow, still found the energy to ask Lucas to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Steve, on the other hand, had exited The Upside Down with minor injuries–practically, unscathed–but for some reason, he dry heaved into the toilet every morning and questioned his entire existence. Spitting up bile and wondering how long it would take before his heart jumped ship, too. He imagined it would only be a matter of time, before the center of his own being decided it was unwilling to marinate in the sad toxic wasteland any longer. Abandoning him and begging to be flushed down, along with the rest.

It’s definitely less than ideal to have some idiot ring your doorbell, when you’re right in the middle of balling your eyes out–facedown on the living room floor–and wondering why God or the universe or whatever the fuck just had to plop you down on this cursed planet in the first place.

It’s actually super embarrassing and kind of the stuff of his nightmares, but that’s exactly the position Steve Harrington finds himself in on a random Tuesday evening.

There’s nothing special about it. Just another day trying not to break apart at the seams, wasting the hours by choking on his unforgiving past. Nothing left to do, but wallow in self-hatred and stare at the popcorn ceiling.

In theory, he could just play dead and ignore the irritating chime of the bell, but on the off chance that it’s one of his friends or the pizza delivery guy has arrived early–he begrudgingly gets up and makes his way to the front door. Dizzy from standing up too fast on an empty stomach, he reaches out for the wall to steady his gait. Unable to find the motivation to clean up his appearance before wrapping his trembling fingers around the cold doorknob. Whoever it is, is just going to have to deal with the mess–just like Steve does every single day.

There’s no nice way to say it. Steve looks like shit. There’s dark circles ringing his sunken eyes that make him look like the kin of the local raccoons. The same ones that devour his uneaten groceries from the garbage cans each week. It’s a charitable donation–philanthropic even. He goes on a depression fueled hunger strike and his furry nocturnal neighbors get a feast fit for a king.

Due to his inability to nourish himself anymore, his cheeks have hallowed out, his muscles have shrunken down, and his once tan skin appears jaundiced–sickly yellow. There’s acrid bile drying on his cracked lips from the most recent upheaval of his guts. This time it was spurred on by the grotesque image of Vecna’s corpse-like face. It keeps popping up in his mind without warning, like one of those jack in the box clown toys–raking the sharp nails of nausea across the lining of his stomach.

He doesn’t immediately register who the person on the other side of the door is, which is laughable, because it wasn’t all that long ago that Steve carried the guy’s limp body out of an alternate dimension and gave him mouth to mouth. They’re not exactly strangers.

Thirty seconds go by before his brain starts back up and processes the identity of the man standing before him. As if the secretary of his memory had disappeared from the front desk and took a while searching the filing cabinets to fill in the blanks:

Mr. Harrington? Sorry about the delay. We’ve located the files. That’s Eddie Munson you’re looking at. We’re sure of it.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were-” Steve starts, roughly wiping at his bloodshot eyes to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Anything is possible when you’ve lived through what he has.

“-in hiding?” Eddie says nonchalantly, leaning against the porch–he’s taller than Steve remembers, “I was. Spent a lot of time bored as shit in a rather crappy hotel room, but Hopper gave me the all clear yesterday and I just moved back into my Uncle’s place. Sorry if I stink, it’s because I’ve been carting boxes around all day–you’ll have to get over it.”

#this one is angsty #whump steve harrington #steddie fic writers #steddie ficlet #steddie fic excerpt #steddie ao3 fic #ao3 steddie #steddie recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft dom eddie munson #bottom steve harrington #steddie smut #steddie angst #steve x eddie #steve harrington needs a hug #the babygirlification of steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson

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oflights · 1 year

Note

oh have I missed the chance for prompts??? I hope not. Ummmm let’s see. How about your choice of the lads going to one of the below places:

* sushi conveyor belt restaurant

* way overpriced boozy brunch

* garden seating at a pub, on a hot summer night

so, as we've already discussed, i low-key want to do ALL of these and as such have screenshotted this to return to some of them. but this one is, in a roundabout way, garden seating at a pub on a hot summer (june) night. in new york! finally!

it's also 2.3k word again (just fuck my life, honestly) and it's getting back together fic. i'm sorry. this is who i am. i hope you like it!!

It’s a beautiful night, the stickiness of the summer day having faded a bit with the sun, just gone down an hour or so ago. There are lovely, multicolored paper lanterns filled with magical light strung up above, crisscrossing the width of the garden area, scattering it in purposeful rainbow. The low, cheerful din of glasses clinking against the wooden tables and excited chatter washes over the space.

There is a nice breeze, one Draco has been told means he should be grateful this is late June in New York and not August, where breezes flee. It’s still hot, unexpectedly so; he is very aware of wearing long sleeves and concedes his agent was probably right about that. He just didn’t want—people here like to ask about his tattoo when back home they know better, or worse, really. He doesn’t want to talk about that.

He finishes his drink trying not to even think about it, drumming his fingers against his own wooden table and shaking his head when a waitress asks him if he wants a refill. Carlo, his agent, gives him an unimpressed look and says, “If we’re going to wait to start, you might as well have another drink to calm your nerves.”

“I’m not nervous,” Draco says automatically, and Carlo snorts.

“Sure. Look, if that’s the case, we might as well—”

“Just a few more minutes; they’ll be here,” Draco cuts in quickly, and now Carlo sighs.

“A few more minutes, all right. But if we wait any longer the people who want to be here will actually just leave, and then we’ll have booked all this for nothing.”

Draco nods distractedly, already looking away and glancing out over the other tables without trying to be too obvious about it or catch anyone’s eye. He still has to nod at people—people he can’t really believe exist, people excited to see him read to them, people who have read his book with their actual eyes and liked it and bought it and maybe told their friends to buy it. They have it with them, holding it in their hands. It’s startling every time he thinks about it. It still seems like a trick, like someone is going to jump out from somewhere and say “Got you!”

This is the first reading he’s doing in person, ever. He’d done a successful launch party in London, had done something of a press round, even—terrifying, the whole time, even as it all went well. He’d read from his book on the wireless, he’d chatted with a few people who walked up to him in Diagon Alley, bewilderingly, happily. He likes to talk about his book.

But now Draco’s half a world away from all that, because apparently his book is selling really well in the States, better even than back home, and the international affiliate of his publisher wanted him to do a book tour to support the second printing, which means conferences and events and more press and—

And a reading, to strangers, in a beautiful garden area behind a large, apparently historic pub in the magical area nestled between the West Village and Greenwich Village. The sounds and lights of the city around them are muffled, muted, like the world has narrowed down only to this.

It’s a long way to go, for him and for all of the people Draco had rather desperately invited—all of his friends, who had had to break their promises to come one by one as family and job issues waylaid them.

Even his extended friends, the kind he only sees at rare and rarer pub nights every few months or at weddings or funerals or—he’d given out invitations to them, too, had offered to arrange Portkeys and stays in New York even once the book tour takes him elsewhere.

A few had said they’d try to come, but as the people he’s closer to had cancelled—Pansy, histrionically heartbroken about it, Blaise playing it so cool it was clear he truly was upset, Greg and Millie and Daphne and Theo and all of them full of regrets and work and kids and things that Draco didn’t have to keep him from doing something mad like traveling around the world for a stupid little book—Draco had resigned himself to the fact that they wouldn’t come either. Why would Hermione Granger or Neville Longbottom go out of their way for someone they see once every few months now, ever since—when the people he sees at least twice a week on average couldn’t make it?

Draco had even invited—he was desperate—and he knew he wouldn’t come because they were over, of course, any obligation to come to things like this had ceased when all that had ended, so there was no way—but just in case—

He'd told himself that was all okay because his parents had promised. They don’t understand any of it, of course—Father thinks it’s a silly hobby gone a bit too far, and perhaps it had started that way, a diversion from the drudgery of managing the Malfoy estate, but now it’s all this, it’s Draco’s life that he doesn’t get—but they had said they’d be here to support him. They have no jobs, he is their family, they can arrange international Portkeys in their sleep—there’s no reason for them not to come. He’s certain they’ll be here.

Draco cranes his neck, searching the tables for any telltale blond hair he’s missed, eyes flicking to the back entrance to the pub where he’s sure they’ll emerge at any moment. Maybe they missed their Portkey and had to reschedule. Maybe there was a delay at the terminal. Maybe they decided to sleep off the time difference at their hotel and didn’t set a wakeup Floo. Maybe—

“Draco,” Carlo says, very gentle, but not patient. “We’ve got to start. I’m sorry, but I don’t think they’re coming.”

Draco shakes his head, even as the truth of that settles in the pit of his stomach like a sinking stone. He swallows past a lump in his throat, wishing he did have a new drink so his hands could be damp with cool condensation instead of clammy, anxious sweat.

He is not nervous. “You can do this,” Carlo tells him. “Just keep an eye on me; I’m here.” Draco likes talking about his book. He likes being around people, chatting with them—it’s just reading, his own words, he practically knows them by heart, they’re etched into his skin far deeper than the Mark, scratched over his heart—

But he really, really wanted his parents to come. He truly thought they would.

“All right,” Draco says finally, still shaking his head but forcing himself to come to terms. He talks himself into it as he stands up, rationalizing—it was definitely the time difference. They’re napping; Mother will wake up horrified, and they’ll get late drinks and perhaps midnight room service and laugh about it later.

That’s how he gets himself to the edge of the garden under the brightest lights, standing at a Levitating podium that settles to the ground once he reaches it. It’s hotter here, under the lights; he wants to rip his sleeves off and use them to dab at his sweaty temples. He has to take deep breaths.

Draco looks out over the crowd, their eager faces, and tries to focus on Carlo—but his face is too soft, too close to pity. He tries to look at nothing instead, knows soon he’ll be reading anyway so it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t have to look at the fact that his parents aren’t here. But first he has to talk a little, introduce himself, thank people for coming, all of these people who don’t even know him, didn’t raise him, still showed up because they liked his work that much when his parents haven’t even read—

“Hello,” Draco makes himself say, a small huff of a laugh, as charming a grin as he can muster. For a moment, that’s all he can muster; his throat is tightening, his sleeves feel like they’re getting smaller. He doesn’t think it’s possible to be strangled at your wrists, but perhaps they’re cutting off the circulation there, constricting his blood flow enough to explain why breathing is so treacherous. “I—I’m so glad you’re all here. I’m so glad that I’m here.”

More words, successful. Words are his thing, Draco reminds himself. He can do this. “And I’m—I’m grateful, really. Impossibly so. It’s really—this month, in this place, and I’m barely starting to understand how much it means to everyone because all I’ve known, all I’ve put into this book, is what it means to me—what it means to be like us, or so I assume, in what feels like a very small world, and—” He breaks off, making slightly panicked eye contact with Carlo—who taps the rainbow pin on his lapel and gives him a thumbs up, encouraging, he can do this.

Draco manages to open his mouth again, but all that emerges is a puff of slightly distressed air. And that’s when movement from the back entrance distracts him thoroughly, gratefully, another place to fix his gaze—which widens, steals more breath.

Rushing through the doorway, knocking into a slotted wooden chair and swearing, is Harry. He’s got Draco’s book wedged under his armpit, he’s whispering apologies to people he bumps into; he drags a chair out from a table with a bunch of strangers, apologizing to them and then hurriedly turning to face Draco with a slightly sweaty, flustered face.

Harry grins when Draco catches his eye. His glasses reflect the rainbow lights a little, and he looks a mess in the loveliest, most familiar way. He’s practically vibrating in his seat, excited, maybe nervous, too, and he’s—here. He’d gotten the invitation Draco sent in desperation, the note he’d scrawled I’m sure you’re busy with work, and I know we don’t really see much of each other anymore, and it’s a long way to go, but if you want to, if you have any interest, it would mean a lot be nice of you and nice to see you—and he’d Portkeyed halfway across the world and he’s here, somehow, bewilderingly, happily.

And suddenly all of Draco’s words are right there, easy, ready to be plucked up and tossed out with every confidence at where they’ll land. It’s a familiar feeling, a specific kind of confidence he’d thought entirely out of reach once he and Harry broke up and descended into the awkward, not-quite friends they’ve been since. Harry is here, and he cares for him, at least enough to show up for him, and Draco can do this because Harry clearly believes he can. It must not have even been a question in his mind, for him to come all this way.

“I’m so grateful we’re all here together,” Draco says. He touches his own pin, looks around, keeps talking. “Being together like this in a small world—it makes it feel much bigger.”

He goes on; he reads. He chokes himself a little but only for good reasons, looking up and seeing people listening, their eyes shining, laughing at the best of moments. He looks into Harry’s eyes, grins back at him, softens it when he catches Harry swiping his fingers behind his glasses as subtly as possible.

After, Draco gets another drink and sits at various tables, signing books, chatting happily. He gravitates towards Harry, who has his own drink and seems to be waiting, but when they near each other Harry whispers, “No, you can keep—I’ll wait for you, Draco, it’s all right.”

“Thank you,” Draco whispers back, hoping Harry knows how much he means it.

And there’s every opportunity to tell him as the crowd thins and the pub staff comes out to start stacking chairs and taking down the lights. Carlo leaves after hugging Draco and telling him how brilliant he’d been, telling him to get excited about doing this again two nights from now in Boston. And then there’s Harry, here, waiting.

“I’m sorry I was late,” Harry says once Draco joins him in the only other unstacked chair. The lights are all gone now, the pub staff telling them they can hang out while they finish closing up inside, the only light streaming from that backdoor. “And that I didn’t, um, tell you I was coming. I was just so—I’d heard about it, of course, but I didn’t know if you’d want me here really, I thought maybe you were just—”

“I wanted you here,” Draco says, realizing he was desperate but not in just the way he’d imagined. “I—I am so happy you came.”

“Me too,” Harry says, and then he laughs a little. “Even though I can barely see you.” He taps his wand a few times and shoots brilliantly bright, multicolored sparks out of it; they rise up to form a glowing, rainbow swirl of light above them, like all the lanterns have cracked open and spilled above them.

It’s beautiful, and Harry looks beautiful beneath it, the colors splayed across his skin as he puts his wand down, reaches out, and takes Draco’s hands. “Better,” Harry says, and then: “I’m so fucking proud of you, Draco.”

Relief, rushing and sweets, hits Draco so fast that it’s all he can feel for a moment. Gone is the disappointment, nerves, dread—all of it falls away. He can do this, he thinks; he did it.

“Do you want to—I mean, you came all this way, and this place is closing but I’m sure there are others we could—maybe food? And we could—I’d love to just—” His words are gone again but now it’s because it feels like there’s too many, that there’s so much he wants to say to Harry and it’s all got to come out quickly because “—and I’m going to Boston very soon, I’m sorry, but maybe—”

“Never been to Boston,” Harry says, smiling so fondly. He squeezes Draco’s hands.

#drarry #drarry fic #oflights #oknowkiss #asks #my fic #fic prompts #why am i like this!!!#this just spiraled #i could probably write 20k more of it tbh #also: happy pride!!!#this is the most pride fill yet :')

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pisupsala · 2 years

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One for The History Books [Chapter 17] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 4k

[Library]

Chapter 17 - Sinking

You’ve been on pins and needles all day: tapping your foot under your desk, shuffling in your seat, fidgeting with papers. Bradley is coming back today. Your boss shoots you an annoyed look from across the conference room.

Tucking your hands under your legs like you’re back in primary school, you will yourself to sit still and listen to the presentation. If only it wasn’t so boring. Your mind wanders of its own accord to places more interesting.

Emboldened by Bradley’s reaction to the lingerie set you bought last time, you picked up another set to welcome him back—this time in black. You even splurged on matching garter belt and stockings.

Ok, is it insane to wear a skirt and stockings in January in D.C when you’re taking public transport?

Very much so. But you are also very much convinced it’s going to be worth it.

You idly wonder if Bradley will change into regular clothes before he comes to pick you up, or if you get to see him in uniform again. God, you hope it’s the latter.

Sometimes you think back to that first time you saw him again, when he pretty much materialized in your office in that khaki uniform. God, you were so angry then, but now that you have distance from the situation, it’s Bradley in that uniform that still sticks out.

A little bit too much on some nights.

You rub your thighs together unconsciously.

“Miss Williams, what is your perspective?”

Eh?

Oh.

Uhm.

The presentation.

Right.

“I think…,” You pause for a second, licking your suddenly dry lips. “…I think it’s pretty solid, but it would benefit from more specific cases studies. It’s a little abstract in its current form.”

Goddammit Bradley. He’s causing you trouble when he hasn’t even made landfall yet. You seriously glance at your watch. Another hour at least until his ship comes in.

You see your boss nodding as he takes notes. Good, so it was the right things to say. Birch better not be onto you—the last thing you need at this point is another talking to about professional conduct.

Riks has been out of your hair mercifully, at least after you threatened to file an official complaint for his digging around into your personal life, through Seresin no less.

That meeting was… something else. You are usually not one to get nervous giggles, being well practiced at keeping a straight face. But Birch, strained, in a deadly serious tone told Riks:

“Whatever lieutenant Bradshaw and Miss Williams get up to in their free time is their business, and I would be incredibly grateful if it stays that way.”

He paused, face pained, before continuing: “It’s neither the purpose nor goal of this department to uncover every roll in the hay service men or women have.”

“We’d need to double the Pentagon budget for just that.” Birch concludes under his breath.

He probably didn’t mean for you to hear him. But you were so embarrassed you could barely contain your laughter, tears filling your eyes. It wasn’t a funny situation in the least.

Just so so awkward.

You check your watch again. It’s barely lunchtime. The discussion in the room is still ongoing. No, but for real, how much is there to discuss about ammo logistics in during the Civil War? You half expect you’d be bored to tears even if you weren’t passionately hoping time would hurry the fuck up already.

Ah, finally. As you gather your things from the table, one of the presenters comes up to you.

“Miss Williams—would you mind sharing your notes from the presentation? I’m sure it will be incredibly useful.”

“Ah, yeah -” You would mind, actually. You would mind on the account that you didn’t actually take any notes and that the page in your notebook you had in front of you is full of mindless squiggles and doodles.

“I’ve given you all my feedback verbally just now, my notes don’t really add more to that.” You smile apologetically.

Before the presenter opens his mouth again, you interject: “Also, I have terrible handwriting, sorry!”

Clutching your notebook to your chest, you leg it out of the room. Jesus. You really know how to embarrass yourself well. Mercifully, you can hide in your office for the rest of the day to work on the reports for the Senate committee. That should tide you over to the end of the day.

Hah.

It’s not even 4:30 yet, and you’re pacing around your office like a caged tiger. You cannot even pretend to focus on your work anymore. If you have another coffee, you are pretty sure your heart is going to explode out of your chest.

God. You should have driven down to Virginia Beach despite Bradley’s protests. At least you’d be doing something more useful with your time than… pacing and daydreaming.

Your bag is already packed, your winter coat hanging from your desk chair. Bradley texted you when he disembarked and let you know he was on his was. You know he’ll text you once he’s parked, but, ugh, everything is taking too long today.

When your phone buzzes, you have your coat already half-way on before you see it’s just an email. You sink back into your chair, the momentum sending your chair spinning. Letting it turn you around, you idly wonder how many turns would equal one minute.

Oh Christ, enough already. You are acting like a teenager. Not even when you had your first crush at 14 were this hopeless, and if you were, that memory has fortunately been lost to time. To you. Probably not your sister, though.

Shrugging your coat back off, you grab one of the folders on the pile at the corner of your desk. Tapping your pen against the paper with more force than strictly necessary, you will yourself to start reading.

You are a goddamn adult, and you get paid to do this shit.

The last vestiges of your self-discipline burn out in the 45 minutes before your phone buzzes again. The moment you spot Bradley’s name on the display, with the simple message you’ve been waiting for all day—just “here”—you practically fly out of your office, coat unbuttoned, scarf loosely hanging from your neck and bag still open, slamming the door loudly behind you in your hurry. At the elevator, you push the button in rapid succession, trying to speed up the machine.

Calm.

You can’t run through the fucking Pentagon like a crazed woman.

Be professional.

Vaulting yourself into the empty elevator, you feel like there’s electricity coursing through your veins. It’s a nervous energy that been building in you all week—every breath a little bit closer to this moment.

It’s misty outside today—the fog you saw that morning still hasn’t cleared up as you look over the throng of people leaving the Pentagon at the end of the day. You join the too slow for your liking moving mass, trying to peer over the heads to see the exit to no avail.

You can’t very well push through.

The glass door finally come into view. Between people dispersing towards the parking bays and public transport, you see one figure cut through the mist, walking towards the Pentagon.

Your heart knows it’s Bradley before your head catches up, launching you forward, your feet moving by their own accord as you burst through the exit. The heels of your shoes echo against the stone pavement as loudly as your heart is beating in your ears, while your still unbuttoned coat flies behind you.

Bradley, in his dress blues, navy wool overcoat and white cap on his head, is walking down the pathway head held high, gait purposeful, every bit a Naval officer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

He’s so close.

The moment your eyes lock, he comes to a standstill, reaching out to you. Your momentum propels you forward straight into his waiting arms, where he catches your body easily and lifts you straight off the ground in a twirl, your bag forgotten at your feet. Your arms lock around his neck as you let out a surprised yelp, which he easily cuts off with a heated kiss.

Bradley’s lips taste of the wonderful winter cold as you melt into him.

“God, I’ve missed everything about you.” You mumble against his lips. His warm skin through the biting cold, the smell of his cologne, the brush of his neat mustache against your face. Catching Bradley’s mouth in another searing kiss, telling him more than words ever could, his grip on you tightens.

Breathless, Bradley sets you back down on your feet. You drink in every part of him as your fingers skim through the short hair on the back of his head. His cap is askew on his head, as he breathes heavily, his eyes searching over you, like he can’t believe you are really here.

Slowly, you press another kiss on his lips, as if to assure him and yourself that this is actually real.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He breathes so softly, you feel it more against your skin than that you hear it.

You giggle as you run your hands down the front of his coat, the dark wool soft under your fingers. He grabs your hand and presses a quick kiss against your fingertips.

“Let me take you home, darlin’,” Bradley’s murmurs in your ear, his voice has a delicious raw edge to it. “I’ve had to miss you for far too long.”

Nodding eagerly, you pull away long enough to retrieve your bag from the ground. A shiver overtakes you as you suddenly notice how cold it is now you’re not pressed up against Bradley anymore. As sharp as ever, he is already a step ahead of you and buttons up your coat with nimble fingers, wrapping your scarf around your neck.

It’s only now, that you actually manage to get your bearings again a little bit, you hear the oohs and aaws from passerby’s. Normally you would want the ground to swallow you whole for making such a spectacle, but today? You cannot find it in yourself to care, too wrapped in Bradley.

“Son, you better fix that cover.” A gruff voice comes from your right. No, okay, maybe you do care a little bit about your boss witnessing this. Birch is determinedly starting in front of him as he passes you.

“You have an admiral incoming on my six.” He adds, not sparing you another look.

“Yes sir, right away, sir.” Bradley choruses with practiced ease, as he moves his cap back into a respectable position on his head. You chuckle an apology, but Bradley just shoots you that winning smile of his.

“Let’s go sweetheart.” He says simply, as he presses a kiss against your forehead and takes your hand.

His large hand is warm against your already cold fingers as you start making your way to the visitor’s parking bay. You wrap your free hand around Bradley’s arm, leaning against him as you walk.

As you arrive at his car, you automatically turn to the passenger’s seat. With a mischievous grin pulls Bradley, you back to face him, his lips ghosting over your jaw. You run your fingers over the lapels of his coat as you sigh at the sensation of his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“I’m kind of tired from the trip, darlin’,” He murmurs, sending shivers down your spine. With a soft jingle, Bradley pulls out his car keys from his pocket and presses them into your hand. “Why don’t you drive us?”

“Really?” You ask, strangely breathless. Bradley just hums in response as your fingers wrap around the keys.

“I’ll even let you play Taylor Swift.” He adds, and you can just hear the mirth in his voice.

“That—that -,” You splutter. “Was my sister’s music.” “Of course.” Bradley chuckles. “That’s why you know all the words so well.”

“I’ll make you regret that offer.”

“Try me, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradley’s brain has been in a state of short-circuit since you flew into his arms. No scenario he had imagined tasted quite as sweet as that first kiss when he saw you again. Climbing into the driver’s seat of his car and adjusting it made your skirt ride up, and Bradley caught sight of what he was pretty sure was the top of a stocking.

Fuck.

He strongly considered pulling you out of the driver’s seat into his lap and fuck you right there in the parking lot.

The drive home was torture, and Bradley couldn’t keep his hands off you for more than 10 seconds— tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your hand as you reached for the gear shift, running his hand up your leg—bad idea.

Shit, he could feel the line of your garter belt through the fabric of your skirt, teasing against the palm of his hand as your leg moved, manipulating the gas pedal.

The small smirk gracing your lips betrayed that you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

It’s on your couch, with you straddling him, your fingers threaded deliciously painfully in his hair as you roll your hips at a tortuously slow pace, Bradley is pretty sure his brain is just completely giving out.

He runs his hands blindly over your body, squeezing your flesh and looking into your eyes. Your hair loose, face flushed, pupils blown by desire, you look back down on him as you ride him in that agonizing pace you’ve set.

From almost falling through the front door, pulling at each other’s clothes in a heated frenzy, and tripping over your shoes, the raging fire in you both was unstoppable. The lingerie set you had specially bought ended up somewhere in the maelstrom of clothes left in your path from the door. It doesn’t even matter.

You pushed him onto your couch as he was sliding your panties down your hips, eyes raking over your form. You drank him in. There was no need for words as you sank down on him, gasping in delight as you stretched around his length. Bradley threw his head back, eyes scrunched close, cursing under his breath.

It was like the raging fire spread into smoldering embers from the moment you connected.

Now you want to savor every moment and every touch. You need it. The intimacy you have been craving, the touch you have been missing, you want to drown yourself in him.

Bradley’s fingers skim down from your throat, over your collarbone, just ghosting over your nipple—tearing a moan from you—down your stomach, pressing his thumb against your clit, drawing slow circles.

Your hips stutter, desperately trying to increase the friction.

“Bradley - please-,” You plead incoherently between gasps and moans. His mouth is on your nipple, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh. It’s sending your senses into overdrive, spurring your movements on, muscles tensing.

“Fuck darlin’, you’re so tight.” Bradley grinds out. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock—you are close. Just a bit more. Your movements are turning erratic. Bradley grabs your hip with his free hand, bucking against you.

“Don - don’t stop - please, Bradley…”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you moaning his name like that, with those eyes full of lust, riding him within an inch of his life. Selfishly, he doesn’t want you to look like that for anyone else ever again. He wants your eyes only on him.

Your lids start fluttering as your movements start stuttering more and more—Bradley can feel how close you are. He tightens his grip on you, setting a relentless pace, his thumb increasing the pressure on your clit.

“Cum for me darlin’,” He gasps. “Show me what I’ve missed.”

His words alone would be enough to have you come undone. His voice, so warm, so close after those cold months, feels like sliding into a hot bath, relaxing every nerve in your wound body. It pushes you to release, head lolling back in pure ecstasy, his name caught in your throat.

Bradley catches your body as it tips back, pulling you against his chest.

“Fuck.” You bring out weakly, breathing heavily. But Bradley doesn’t give you very long to restart your brain, effortlessly flipping you on your back and hitching your leg over his shoulder. Dazed, you squeal in delight, giggling as he presses kiss after kiss against your calf.

“How much did you miss me, darlin’?” He asks between kisses.

“So - so much.” You breathe.

“I can’t hear you, sweetheart.” He says with a devilish smirk on his face as he drags the tip of his cock along your slick pussy lips, teasing against your sensitive clit. You moan without abandon.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” You choke out. “Everything about you.”

“Tell me.” Bradley demands as his lips latch onto a ticklish spot in the hollow of your knee.

Words start falling from your mouth—you’re not even sure you’re making sense—it’s almost a stream of consciousness.

“I - I’ve missed you from the minute you left,” Your breath hitches as Bradley gently bites down on your thigh. “It feels empty without you here. The bed is cold. I want you to kiss me awake…”

“Just kiss?” Bradley asks, as he nudges the tip of his cock against your entrance. You suck in a breath before a giggle bursts from your lips.

“Do you really need a full report when you have me in this state already?”

“I happen to know you are very thorough, Miss Williams.” Bradley smirks.

“I’ll write you a list later if you so desire, lieutenant.” You shoot back, still half-dazed, grasping for him. “But you’re stalling—how much did you really miss m-”

Bradley laughs and finally fully slides into you in one fluid move, effectively cutting you off. Setting a punishing pace that makes you see stars, Bradley easily wipes every last thought from your brain. Suddenly slowing down and bending over to you, filling you to the hilt, he whispers:

“For the record, I missed you so much it hurt.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are moments when you actually stop and think, usually at a quiet moment at work. It’s actually insane how quickly you fall into a comfortable routine with Bradley, the relationship growing steadily. He has two weeks before he needs to report back on base, and in the meantime, he seems to revel in essentially playing house with you.

As you get ready for work in the morning, Bradley makes you coffee. When you tell him he should make most of his free time and sleep in more often, he just shrugs:

“Making most of my time is spending it with you.”

Some days he drives you to work and picks you up at the end of the day.

Without fail, your heart feels like it’s about to burst when you see his Bronco parked in the visitor’s bay.

Well, some aspects of your relationship are growing.

Bradley is still incredibly guarded when it comes to his family. When you ask about his trip to Nevada to see captain Mitchell, he talks about tinkering on Mitchell’s plane in the workshop, but never anything deeper about what they talked about.

Maybe it’s incredibly private—all Bradley has mentioned is that he’s known Mitchell since childhood. How or why? When you actually gather the courage to ask, Bradley just ignores the question and changes the subject.

You conceal how much that hurts you—because it shouldn’t. It’s none of your business. Selfishly, you want to know Bradley better than anyone in the world.

But you need to really accept that it’s his choice how much he really wants to share about himself. No matter how unfair it feels.

You start talking about your own family less, feeling like you’re oversharing. Again, Bradley probably is just not that family-oriented and might just be humoring you. There is no sense in dwelling on these things, you admonish yourself.

Realistically, how long have you been dating? You haven’t even broken the 6-month mark yet, and he was deployed for three of those. And there will be more deployments, more time spend apart. You need to stop your brain from spinning and take things as they come.

It’s another one of those winter days when the sun doesn’t even get up from bed, and from dawn till dusk there are just monochrome gray skies, like it’s perpetual twilight. The air is bitingly cold, stinging every bit of skin not covered. You practically skip to the parked Bronco, seeing Bradley’s silhouette through the driver’s side window.

Climbing into the passenger’s seat, he greets you with an immediate kiss.

“You spoil me.” You smile at him. “What am I going to do with myself once you’re back in Virginia Beach?”

“You’ll drive yourself, which you are perfectly capable off.” Bradley grins back. “But in the meantime, let me take care of you.”

“Can we stop by the store?” You ask as you buckle up and Bradley turns the engine on. “I think we’re running low on a few things.”

It’s not terribly busy on the road, and it’s a short trip to the store. Preoccupied with finding the right playlist on your phone with your cold fingers, you only spot the car in front of you suddenly swerve wildly in your periphery.

You snap your head up, but the words on your tongue die the second the back of the Bronco suddenly slips violently to the right. Black ice. Your head cracks against the door. A million curses fly through your scrambled brain, but there are more important things.

“Keep steady! Don’t counter-steer!” Your voice is high with panic. You’ve slipped on black ice before, just never in D.C and never when you weren’t the one driving.

Bradley is loudly cursing, trying to get the car under control. You are so full of adrenaline, time seems to have slowed down.

You see Bradley in hyper focus, knuckles white against the steering wheel as he shifts down, slowing the vehicle down. In reality, the slip takes only seconds and as the Bronco regains grip on the tarmac.

Your head is pounding from knocking against the window and sheer stress.

“Darlin’, are you ok?” Bradley looks at you from the corner of his eye—his voice is steady, like he’s completely unshaken. On the other hand, you look terrified—eyes wide, white as a sheet and breath coming out in short, panicked bursts. He pulls into a side street and parks.

Heart clenching, he reaches out to you. “Sweetheart, are you hurt?”

Mutely, you shake your head, biting your lip, trying to steady your breathing. Bradley simply reaches out to you, hand caressing your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“Ye- yeah.” You force out, leaning your head into his palm, kissing it. “I… I don’t even know what came over me.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you continue words falling out of your mouth like a waterfall.

“It’s not the first time I’ve slipped on black ice in a vehicle, it just never happened to me as a passenger, but you’re a goddamn fighter pilot, of course your reflexes are amazing, and you keep your cool… like, what am I even worried about?”

You try to smile, but the corner of your mouth just shakes.

Bradley leans in and lightly kisses you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I trust you.” You reply, voice still lightly shaking. “And sorry for backseat driving.” You add in attempt to joke.

Bradley just chuckles in response, but he is sure of one thing. He doesn’t want to ever want to see that terrified look on your face again. It has already burned itself in his brain along with your panicked voice.

That night when you are in bed, you already in deep sleep, Bradley wraps himself around your naked form, pressing light kisses against the column of your neck. Every time he closes his eyes, your face flashed before his mind’s eye. Smiling, blushing, frowning as you think, sleepy in the morning —but it always ends up morphing into wide-eyed terror.

He spent the evening trying to scrub the look from his mind, filling his vision with your blushing, love struck face, mouth open as he had you cum for him over and over again.

Bradley sighs dejectedly.

Another one for the collection.

[note]I have this problem that I think of all the plot beats I want to put in one chapter and then I always end up overwriting so much that I pretty much always have add another chapter to the plan. Again, this was supposed to be five chapters lmao.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader

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weemsfreak · 1 year

Text

Botany...Of Course, Pt 3

Larissa Weems x OCTeacher

Tw: alcohol comsumption

Note: As requested here is part 3!! Thank you to everyone who reads and shares their thoughts! I was thinking about maybeee taking requests if anyone has some, but the thing about me is when I like a fic idea, I cannot make it short, I want to make a whole story out of it lol

~3500 words, Enjoy :) @alder-saan @i-love-nerdy-stuff @digital-demise @im-a-carnivorous-plant

Link to Pt 2

Saturday

You awoke to the sun shining in from the curtains, almost blinding you in the process. You were alone, Larissa's conference must have already started. You opened the doors to the balcony, the fresh smell of the plants hit you and made you feel really awake. You figured you'd venture to the gym and grab a quick shower. You got ready to go out to the second garden, you were excited to see if you could find any other interesting plants. Grabbing a coffee and a cinnamon bun, you sat on a bench amongst the trees. You looked up at some balcony's across the river. There was a large balcony, it looked like it could be a restaurant. You spotted someone who was very tall, pale, and dressed so elegantly. Ah, must be the stately sequoia tree herself. You smiled, she looked so content. She was talking to a woman while having a bite to eat. You were glad she got away from Nevermore, even if just for a few days. You couldn't believe she liked women. She was just so put together, and feminine, and proper, and honestly, if you didn’t know her, from afar she kind of looked like she would be against it. You laughed, what stupid stereotypes. Okay, maybe she should know that you like women too. Would that make her more comfortable or more uncomfortable around you? You didn't know. You will tell her when you feel it is right. You thought about the events of last night. Somehow, you had almost forgotten what had happened. How could you forget something so crazy, so traumatizing, so sad. You didn't want Larissa to be sad any longer, she didn't deserve that. Every minute you thought about erasing that memory for her, you convinced yourself a little bit more. You spent the day studying more plants, and planned a relaxing evening for you and Larissa, hoping she would be up for it.

Her conference was done a bit earlier than yesterday. She came in and plopped down on her bed, the same as the day before. She was wearing her grey dress with the belt that cinched her waist perfectly. God damn, you tried not to stare, again. "Are you tired Larissa?" She took a minute to sit up, but she lit up when she looked at you. "Well I am a bit, but we're on vacation. Did you have something in mind?" Truthfully, you had lots of things in mind that you wanted to do with Larissa, but you thought one thing would be particularly relaxing. Well, a couple things would, but one was a safter option. Sitting up quickly and turning to her, you were obviously drunk. You had a few drinks again waiting for her, what else were you to do alone? She laughed at your expression, your face lit up with excitement. "Do you want to go...to the waterpark?" Her expression softened, that's not what she was expecting you to ask. "They have a pool, a floaty river, and a hot tub with a bar!" You looked so excited, how could she say no. "I would love to Peyton, but I didn’t bring a swim suit" she said, trailing off when admitting her mistake. You frowned instantly. You thought for a minute, then had a fabulous idea. "Let's go buy you one!" you beamed at her, giddy from thinking about her in a bathing suit. Calm down, you told yourself, don't act too intrigued. She pondered for a minute, but the look on her face told you she had already made up her mind. "Okay, let's go" she said quickly, getting up and grabbing your hand.

At the mall, there were so many stores to choose a bathing suit from. You both ended up in a really fancy store that looked like you could never afford anything in there. As Larissa went to the bathing suits, you scanned your eyes over a price tag. You gasped when you saw the price of a skirt, and you quickly looked around hoping nobody heard and knew how broke you were. Larissa heard, and she walked over to you, laughing. She laid a gentle hand on your back, "Don't worry darling, if you want anything I can get it for you." Jeeze, she wasn't your sugar mommy, but if she wanted to be…just joking. You followed her to the swim suits, and she picked out a two piece white one, a two piece light blue one, and a one piece nude coloured one. You thought they would all look stunning on her, but you secretly wished she would get the white one. "I'm going to try them on" she hollered over to you. "Okay, let me know which you choose." "Why don’t you help me pick one out?" she cooed at you, and your eyes widened as you ran to her, following to the dressing room.

Of course you were right, they were all stunning on her. As she tried them on and presented them to you, it took everything in you to keep your mouth from dropping open or from getting giddy. Every time she would show you one, you grinned wide and blushed, trying to hide it by looking away or fiddling with your hands or tucking your hair behind your ear. You didn't realize until now how tall Larissa really was, how long her legs were, how flawless her pale skin was, the freckles on her arms. She noticed you blushing each time she came out of the dressing room, but she just thought it was adorable that you found her pretty. When she came out in the white suit, you weren't sitting outside of the room anymore. You were over looking at clothes, trying to distract yourself from her. Why did you think swimming would be a good idea? You didn't think you would get so flustered just from seeing her in a swim suit, what is wrong with you Peyton! "Peyton, do you want to see this one?" she called from the changing rooms. Honestly you did, but at the same time you didn't. You walked back to the change rooms and this time you couldn't stop your jaw from actually dropping. She was wearing the white suit, top coming to tie around her neck showing her cleavage, and high wasted bottoms with a belt. The metal parts were gold and it came with a long white cover up. This was definitely a Larissa outfit. You caught yourself and slammed your hand over your mouth, looking to her face and quickly mumbling a sorry. She laughed loudly, a genuine Larissa laugh. Well, at least she found your doting over her amusing and not creepy. "So I take it you like this one?" You took your hand from your mouth and put on a straight face, "Larissa I- this suit was definitely made for you, and only you, holy-." She giggled and walked over to you, grabbing your hands and leaning in to whisper, "How are we going to go swimming if you can't keep your composure over seeing me in a swim suit?" You were frozen from her proximity, and so embarrassed, even though you knew she had noticed your fluster. "I didn't think of that when I suggested it" you mumbled to her, a lie. She took your face in her hands and gave you a cute smile with a scrunch of her nose, turned, and went to get changed.

Back at the hotel room, you were putting on your swim suit. Black, the opposite of hers, like a Ying yang, but different. Stepping out in to the room, Larissa handed you a glass of wine from her bed and paused to stare at you in your swim suit. She giggled, took your hand, and twirled you around, looking you over. You knew she was doing this because you were admiring her earlier, so you laughed. "Oh Peyton, this swimsuit looks divine on you darling." Divine, that's a new one you thought. Blushing, you sat next to her on her bed. She was watching some fashion show, so you watched with her. You looked at her, her hair all done up, makeup still perfect. "How are you going to swim with your hair done up and makeup on?" She looked down at you with a straight face. "I just won't get wet, only my body goes in the water." This sent you into a fit of laughter, you didn't know why, probably just the way she said it. You were lying on the bed laughing, trying not to spill your wine. She started laughing at you, "Peyton what's so funny?" she chirped. You composed yourself and sat up, "Larissa it's not as fun if you don't go all in, you have to at least take your hair out." The truth was Larissa didn't let people see her with no makeup often. Her hair wasn't that big of a deal, but she only felt sophisticated and pretty when she was done up. She looked at you, a slight frown on her face. "What's wrong? Do you not want people seeing you not done up?" She smiled a bit at this, as if you read her mind. She pondered for a minute. You were so gentle and kind to her. Really, you both didn’t know each other well, but she felt like you would never judge her. "Will you take the pins out of my hair?" she said in such a low tone you almost didn't know what she said. You smiled and turned to look her in the eyes, "Of course, if that's what you actually want, you don't have to Larissa." She looked back at you, and gave a quiet "Please." You moved your hands up to her hair and found the pins, removing them slowly. It must feel so much better to have her hair down after it being up so long. You watched as her hair fell, wavy and reaching past her shoulders. It was longer than you thought it would be, and softer, like silk. You put a hand under her hair and ran your fingers through the back of her head, giving her light scratches. She smiled and leaned into it, sipping her wine. You took her in, so casually just sitting here watching tv, but she looked ethereal, she always did. You were so caught up in her beauty that you only half realized when you slipped a "Larissa, you're absolutely beautiful." You took your hand away from her hair and went wide eyed. She definitely thought you were too much now. You didn't want her to think you were trying to pick her up, you were just in awe over her. She looked you in the eyes and tilted her head to the side. As you went to mumble a 'sorry, I didn't mean to say that aloud', she spoke questioningly, "Really?" Of course she was, everyone who laid their eyes on her must have thought that. Maybe they thought it, but never had the guts to say it. You barley had the guts to tell her, you did by accident.

You felt sad by the way she questioned you, but took this as an opportunity to make her believe it as true. "Yes, of course I do, one hundred percent yes. You must know that you are, people must tell you all the time" you said with a hopeful smile. "No, not really" she looked down at the wine in her lap. "Well, maybe nobody ever tells you because you can be intimidating" you let out a giggle and put your finger under her chin, turning her face to you "but I know everyone thinks it, and I'm telling you that you are stunning, with your hair done and without, with makeup on and without." She was smiling now, you hoped it was sincere, you hoped she at least half believed you. She drank the rest of her wine and put the glass down. She turned toward you and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in to rest her head in your neck. You felt so comfortable, so content, so at peace, and you couldn't wipe the smile off of your face if someone tried. She let you go after a minute and you were immediately cold. She looked at you with glistening eyes and cupped your face with her hand. "Thank you Peyton, for making me feel comfortable with you." This made your heart swell, all you wanted was for her to have a friend that she could be herself around. "Of course pretty girl. Do you want to go to the waterpark now?" you gave her a genuine smile. She shook her head excitedly and you were on your way.

You were floating down the lazy river behind her. She looked so relaxed, and you were having so much fun. You had never been on a lazy river before. As you floated, you looked at the scenery. There were plants polluting the water park like the rest of the hotel, but there were also a lot of kids. You swam closer to her, trying to float faster to reach her. You caught up to her and looked at her, laughing as you said "beep, beep" and rushed past her. As you floated in front of her now, you turned around to admire her, your head resting on your hands. She laughed at you, admiring you back. You gave her a smirk and batted your eyelashes, and she winked at you. You blushed and turned away from her, trying to float faster away, what a flirt.

As Larissa settled in the pool, you went to the bar to order your drinks. You got in with her and started swimming around. There were only two other girls in the pool, so you almost had it to yourselves. Out of nowhere, Larissa splashed you. You couldn't believe she had been so bold. You looked at her, drenched, and walked up to her slowly as she backed away. "NO, not my hair" she stated while backing away from you. "Ah, ah, that's not fair, you started it." You were right, she did start it. You felt bad ruining her makeup or getting her hair wet, but she let you take it down, so she was comfortable, right? You splashed her, but not as much as she had splashed you. She let out a squeal, and you instantly swam away. You knew she would get her revenge. "Drinks are ready" the bartender hollered, setting them on the counter. You got out to get them and brought them back to the pool. "Don't splash me now, you'll ruin the drinks" you warned, and she listened. As soon as you put your drink down at the side of the pool, Larissa caught you off guard and splashed you again. You let out a squeal this time and lunged yourself at her. You wrapped your arms around her waist and knocked her over, ducking her whole head under the water by accident. You helped her resurface and then froze, you were so scared. That's not what you meant to do, but she would never believe you. "OH shit, I'm so sorry Larissa, I actually didn't mean to do that" you pleaded, hoping she wouldn’t drown you. She grabbed your face and you were scared for your life, but she started laughing, like she was having a blast. Her mascara was running a bit now, but her lipstick was still perfect. She was so gorgeous like this, having fun and not caring about her appearance. You wiped the mascara from under her eyes, and scrunched your nose up to give her a cute face.

As you did this, you got closer to her. While she was laughing, you caught a distant but snarky "What are they, girlfriends?" from one of the other girls in the pool. You ignored it, so focused on Larissa. "Ew, I hope not, she is way too old for her anyway." Yep, you heard what you thought you did, and this time, Larissa heard it too. She glared at them, still holding your face in her hands. You couldn't turn to look at them because of this, so you just stared at her. "Excuse me, are you talking about us?" she sneered at them, you got nervous. One of them started with her. "Yea, we were talking about you, what are you anyway, gay?" You became increasingly more angry and moved away from Larissa's grip. What the hell is wrong with them, it's 2023. Larissa slowly moved closer to them, "I'll have you know that I am gay in fact, and I'd appreciate it if you would leave me alone." You were about to back her up when you remembered that you weren't out to Larissa yet. You opened your mouth but closed it quickly. "What's wrong with your little girlfriend there, she can't speak for herself?" Not wanting to drag you into this, Larissa started "They shouldn't have to speak to immature bigots like you, and anyway, they're not my-." "Baby, it's okay, let's just enjoy ourselves" you walked over to her, grabbing her arm and trying to force her away from them. "Yea, listen to what your little girl says" one of them stated and both of them snickered. You would let them make fun of you, but you'd kill them for taking digs at Larissa and her age. "You know, I bet you both that I can steal your drinks from behind you there without coming withing 10 feet of you. If I can't, we will leave. If I can, you have to watch me kiss my girlfriend." You said this with the most bold tone you think you have ever used. You stared them down, then looked up at Larissa when she grabbed your hand. She was wide eyed and tilted her head in question, she didn't know why you were trying to defend her by pretending to be her girlfriend. "You don't have to do this" she whispered in your ear. "Do you mind kissing me?" you whispered back. She shook her head no as a blush crept up on her cheeks. "Bet" one of the girls said. You smiled and took Larissa to the far end of the pool, away from the girls. You put your right hand out and concentrated hard. You didn't use your telekinesis a lot, maybe you should practice it more. One of the girls drinks started levitating and then slowly moving toward you. It landed in your hand and you downed the whole thing. You put the glass on the side of the pool and turned to the girls. They were both in shock. One was trying to form some words, and the other couldn't do more than blink. You winked at them and turned to Larissa, cupping her face with one hand. "Come here Riss" you whispered as you went up on your toes to reach her level. You kissed her softly, just like you always wanted to. She grabbed your head and pulled you closer. You didn't kiss for too long, but you almost forgot that the girls were there. You pulled away, turning back to them. "Not only are we gay, were also outcasts. Get a load of that, bitches." And with that, you took Larissa's hand and lead her out of the pool.

As soon as you got back to the room, Larissa started laughing all giddy. Seeing her like this made you do the same. You laid down on your bed together, laughing. After a few minutes, she turned to you. "Peyton, you didn't have to do that for me, but thank you" she sounded really appreciative and sincere. "Well honestly Larissa, it pissed me off when they started about your age. But, I have something to tell you." You paused, wondering if she caught on. "You like women, don't you" she said, her smile so wide her white teeth were showing. "Yes" you laughed, "When did you figure it out?" "Well, when you wanted to kiss me. But I had a hunch when you couldn't contain yourself as I was trying on swim suits today." You rolled away from her groaning, burying your head in your hands, a blush forming on your face again. "Sorry about that" you muttered. She sat up and pulled your hands away from your face. "Peyton it's okay, we both like women, we have something in common" she said sweetly.

Coming out of the bathroom with your pajamas on, you found Larissa asleep on her bed, still in her swim suit. She looked adorable lying there. You didn't want to disturb her rest, but she still had makeup on and she couldn't sleep in that. "Rissa, wake up pretty, you have to get changed" you whispered in her ear. You saw her smile before her eyes opened, maybe she wasn't really asleep. She got up and went to the bathroom, saying nothing to you. You laid in your bed ready to fall asleep, it was a long day. A few minutes later she came out sans makeup, and sat on the edge of her bed. You looked at her, she was just sitting there looking at the ground. You thought this might be a repeat of last night, but then she looked up at you. She had a needy expression on her face, like she wanted something from you. You pushed the covers off of yourself and opened your arms, inviting her in. Despite her height, she laid down and put her head on your chest. You hugged her tight and stroked her silky hair, moving some out of her face. You kissed her forehead and mumbled "Sweet dreams Rissa."

Pt 4

#larissa weems fanfic #principal larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems fluff #wednesday netflix #eventual smut

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