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hotchnerobsessed · 1 year

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Alone Again

Fem!Reader x Hotch | When Aaron unintentionally interrupts your alone time, it sparks a new desire in him.

Warnings: 🥵 Smut (Soft!Dom!Hotch, fem!masturbation, cockwarming, praise kink, slight exhibitionist kink) and a few swears!

Word Count: 3583

Masterlist

I wrote this pretty fast and only checked for mistakes once so I apologize in advance for any typos 😅

**********

It had been ten days. Ten days since you’d seen him. Ten days since you’d kissed him, and felt his arms around you. The cases that took him so far away from you never got any easier. But you always made a point of talking to each other every day, even if it was only for a short 30 seconds so he could tell you he was safe.

The day started as they usually did, as you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing next to your head. You didn’t make a habit of sleeping with your phone so close to you, but when he was away, you couldn’t help it. Sliding your thumb across the screen, you answered through a sleepy voice, “Aaron?”

“Hi sweetheart,” he laughed softly, “I’m sorry did I wake you?”

“No, no it’s okay, I’m up.”

He could tell you were lying, the grogginess in your voice giving you away. “Shit, I’m sorry, it’s Saturday. I should have let you sleep in. I always lose track of what day it is on these long cases.”

Your chest ached at his words, it had been too long, and you desperately wanted him to come home. “I miss you so much.”

There was a pause, and you heard him breathe deep. You were certain it was because he missed you too, which was absolutely true, but you’d come to find out soon enough there was another cause for his hesitation. They had just wrapped up the case, and in a few short hours you would be in his arms again, but he wanted it to be a surprise. “I miss you too, my girl.”

Another pause on the phone, this time it was you who hesitated. “Everyone is good? Everyone is safe?”

His chest swelled at your concern for not only him, but for the rest of the team. Your massive heart was the reason he’d fallen for you in the first place. “Yes, everyone is fine.”

You nodded your head, aware that he couldn’t see it, but in an attempt to comfort yourself. “Good. That’s good.” You knew there was no point in asking him when he’d be coming home, these things were unpredictable, so you simply asked of him what you always did, “come home to me in one piece, you hear me?”

You could hear him smile through the phone, “always.”

“I love you, Aaron.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Talk again tomorrow?”

Another pause. “In person,” he thought to himself, but answered, “you know it.”

No more words were needed, as the line was silent for a couple seconds, both of you simply listening to the other’s breathing, before he finally hung up.

Setting your phone on the bedside table, you rubbed your eyes before opening them slowly and staring up at the ceiling. A deep sigh escaped your lips before you finally pulled back the covers and got out of bed.

Time passed slowly, as anything you tried to do to distract your mind from how much you missed him was unsuccessful. You’d watched short bursts of about six different movies, constantly flipping between channels, unable to get your mind to focus on any one alone.

The longer you sat there, faced with the knowledge of spending another night alone, the more you kept replaying the phone conversation over and over in your mind. Something about talking to him this morning made you miss him even more than usual, and you couldn’t shake that lonely feeling.

It didn’t take long for your mind to wander elsewhere, to other means of distraction. The perfect distraction from thinking about Aaron being gone, was thinking about the times Aaron was home; the times when he was close to you, touching you, and inside you.

As you changed the channel on the television one last time, you crossed one knee over the other. The slight relief this provided to the aching between your legs made it impossible for your to ignore any longer.

Finally turning the TV off for good, you closed your eyes and imagined Aaron on his knees in front of you. Sitting right in this very spot in the living room, where many times before he’d devoured you like you were his last meal, made it very easy for memories and sensations to come rushing back.

The slight rocking of your hips, and shaking of your foot just wasn’t going to cut it; you needed more, and you wanted room to get comfortable. Eagerly standing from the couch, you made your way towards your bedroom. Once inside, you tore off your pyjamas that you’d been wearing all day, and tossed them on the floor.

Climbing into the middle of the bed, you allowed yourself to lay back and spread yours legs. Just as you’d thought about the times you’d spent together in the living room, your mind now focused on the times he’d had you pinned to the mattress, endless pleasure washing over you.

Trailing your hands down your body, your hand soon made contact with your swollen bud, and the moan that escaped your lips filling the room. Not to your surprise, you were already soaking wet, as you trailed your fingers through your folds. The ease with which your fingers now moved across your core was euphoric, and it didn’t take long until you were imagining his lips all over you.

As the circles you were rubbing became tighter and faster, your climax approaching, you were completely unaware of the outside world. All your mind was able to focus on was the building pressure between your legs. That fact, coupled with how intentionally quiet he was trying to be when opening the door, made Aaron’s presence unknown to you.

Gently setting his bags on the couch, being careful not to let his keys make a sound, he smiled to himself knowing his surprise might actually work. It was at that moment that another moan escaped your lips, one so clear it made it’s way down the hallway. As Aaron’s ears perked up, he stood still, wondering if he’d just heard what he thought he had.

Sure enough, another deep moan made its way from your lips to his ears, followed by a breathless, “ohh.. Aaron..”

The smile on his face grew even wider; he couldn’t deny how it felt, knowing that even when you were all by yourself, he was still able to make you feel this good.

Taking extra care in his gentle footsteps across the floor, in no time he was standing just outside the bedroom door. He’d had you right there before, teetering on the edge of eagerness and pure bliss, so when another soft moan filled the air, he knew by the desperation in your voice that you were close.

Although he’d already heard too much, he didn’t want to cross too many boundaries; hearing you like this was different than seeing you like this. He wasn’t naive, he knew you still had a relationship with your own body, outside of your relationship with him. You were still more than entitled to your alone time, especially when he’d been gone for so long.

So he waited, not so patiently now with his hard length straining against his pants, for you to finish.

That would come sooner rather than later, with one final whimper of his name, you crested the wave and felt the bliss you’d been chasing rush through your veins.

Giving you a few seconds to regain composure, he took one final step forward and gently leaned against the wooden doorframe. As he gazed at you from the doorway, seeing you so exposed like this, sparked something new in his mind. He’d been inside you countless times before, and could get himself off simply by thinking about how it felt as one of your orgasm squeezed the life out of him. But he wanted to try something different, and he was hoping you would be eager to as well.

Just as you pulled your hand away from your core, your breathing still laboured, you were brought out of your trance by the sound of a familiar voice. He spoke gently in an attempt to not startle you, “you missed me that much, huh sweetheart?”

Your eyes flew open, and you sat up with a jolt, the fog in your brain gone in an instant. Glancing across the room, you gasped as your eyes took in the sight in front of you. He stood there, full suit in tact, hair slightly tousled, no doubt from a quick nap on the long flight home. He looked absolutely divine. You would have thought so regardless, but especially now, after having just made yourself cum while thinking about him.

Before you could form any words, you were slipping your legs off the side of the bed and playfully bounding towards him. With his arms outstretched to you, you wrapped your arms around his waist and he pulled you into his chest. Neither of you cared that he was fully clothed and you were not, simply being able to hold one another again was all you cared about.

You clenched your fists, gripping the fabric of his suit jacket and pulling him impossibly close. Breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, you felt him place a tender kiss to the top of your head. One of his hands was combing through your hair gently, and the other was resting on the small of your back, pulling your body against his.

Finally answering his question, you whispered against his chest, “yes. Yes I did miss you that much.”

A comforting laugh rumbled in his chest as you squeezed him even tighter. It didn’t take long for you to clue into the fact that he must have heard you calling out his name, but you didn’t care, because it clearly had a desirable affect on him. You could tell he was ready for you, his length pressing into your hip, so you teased right back, “looks like you missed me a little bit, too.” Bringing one of your hands to the front of his body, you gently caressed him through his pants, revelling in the hiss that escaped his lips.

“Just a little bit..” he confessed.

Finally tilting your head back to look into his eyes, he smiled down at you, until he was unable to hold back any longer. Learning forward, his hand that was on the back of your head tugged on your hair gently, and he connected his lips to yours passionately.

You quickly began removing articles of his clothing as he trailed kisses along your jaw, and down your neck. Mumbling against your warm skin, he asked, “think you have a few more in you?”

You stopped where you were, his chest now bare to you as you tugged on his belt. Placing tender kisses across his chest from one shoulder to the other, you stated, “for you? Always..” before picking up right where you left off.

The urgency in your movements was evident, with both of you now completely undressed, the feeling of skin on skin soothing both of your lonely and aching minds.

As he laid you back on the bed, you admitted, “I’m already so wet..” implying you didn’t need him to go down on you like he always did. You missed him, and you just wanted him inside you again. “Please Aaron, I just want you to fuck me.”

He let out a deep moan at your admission, his bare length making contact with your core. Pulling back slightly, his eyes darkened, and you felt heat rush to your face. You knew that look. You’d seen it many times before. He was going to fuck you. But not until he got what he wanted. And whatever it was, you were eager to give it to him.

He stood from the bed, and you watched intently as he pulled open the top drawer of the bedside table and grabbed a condom. In no time at all, he had it rolled down his length and was back between your legs. His voice was deep and commanding, “Don’t worry my sweet girl, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk anymore, but I want you to do something for me first.”

Nodding your head, you anxiously listened for what it was he wanted you to do.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Your voice was shaky as you spoke, “I’ll do whatever you want, Sir. I’ll be a good girl.”

The look on his face at your words made your walls clench around nothing. Before you knew what hit you, he was running his length through your folds and pushing himself inside you. The feeling knocked the breath right out of your chest, and you let out a short gasp. Giving his hips one final thrust forward, he collapsed on top of you and moaned against your neck.

He kept his hips still as he trailed kisses along your neck, before capturing your lips with his passionately once more. Pulling back, he gazed into your eyes and you could see the contemplation on his face; he knew what he wanted, and he hoped you would be comfortable giving it to him.

You both trusted each other completely, it’s why you worked so well together. You both knew there was no judgement between you no matter what, but you were still gentle, and honest, and respectful when it came to trying something new.

Lifting his body weight off of yours, he leaned back on his heels, all while his hands kept a firm grasp on your hips, holding you in place. With his length still buried deep inside you, your legs draped over his thighs, you were completely exposed to him as he glanced down at where your bodies met.

You couldn’t help the heat that rose in your cheeks as you watched him take in the sight. You were unable to pull your eyes away from him, trying desperately to read every micro-expression on his face and figure out what he was thinking. You would soon find out, and you would not be disappointed.

You felt his hand spread out against the inside of your thigh, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the soft skin. His eyes trailed along your body, across your breasts, before your eyes met.

“I didn’t watch.. earlier, when I got home.. I could hear you, but I didn’t watch.”

Mild disappointment clouded your mind; though you adored the gentleman he was, not wanting to intrude on your personal time, you almost wished he had peeked. You had nothing to hide when it came to him.

“But I wanted to.”

His admission made the knots in your stomach tighten. “Me too,” you thought to yourself, but you stayed silent, knowing you were finally going to find out what he wanted from you.

“And I still do.”

Blinking slowly a couple times, you tried to interpret what he meant, and as it finally clicked in your mind, he spoke once more.

“I want you to touch yourself.”

Your mouth dropped open at his words, as you started breathing heavier.

“I want you to make yourself cum while I’m inside you.”

You exhaled deep, your mouth already dry with anticipation. “Oh fuck,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “okay.. yes..” you stumbled over your words, “yes, Sir.”

His lips curled upwards into a smile that set your entire body on fire. If you weren’t already soaking for him, the desire in his eyes would have made you wet in an instant.

“Good girl,” he cooed, his thumb still rubbing those same circles against the inside of your thigh.

The level of comfort you felt with him had you acting on his request immediately. In a moment where your instincts might normally be to cover up, to shy away, he had you blossoming and eager to show off.

His eyes followed the trail of your fingertips, along both of your breasts, down your stomach, and between your legs. You started by resting one hand on top of his that was still rubbing gentle circles along the inside of your thigh.

You knew how much he loved the feeling of your nails on his skin, so you used your other hand to gently run your nails down his stomach. The muscles in his abdomen tensed and his eyes flickered shut momentarily as a low moan graced his lips. You smirked to yourself, knowing that even when he was the one in charge, you still had that kind of an affect on him.

Once your hand trailed all the way down, you let your fingers caress the base of his cock, as it lead straight into your heat. The countless times you’d been together, you’d never felt this before, the direct connection of your bodies with your fingertips. It was new and exhilarating for both of you, so you took a second to simply enjoy how full you felt, even from the outside.

“You’re teasing,” his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth. Looking up at him, you blinked not-so-innocently, causing him to swallow hard. “Go on, be a good girl, I want to watch you make yourself cum.”

His words made your hips move involuntarily, and that slight taste of movement had you whimpering in no time. Now with both hands on your hips, his grip tightened, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He was trying to hold you still as much as himself; it was taking everything in him not to pound you into the mattress right then and there.

The look he gave you made heat pool between your legs, and your body reacted before your mind had a chance to catch up. With your fingers now directly on your clit, the feeling was euphoric. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to describe it.

He’d made you lose control around him so many times before, but one of you was always moving. The stillness of your hips now, combined with the familiar stretch of him deep within you, and the furious circles you were rubbing against your body, had you coming undone in no time.

“Mmm.. fuck..” he groaned, “I can feel you, sweetheart. Fuck..” he was nearly breathless himself, “your pretty little pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

The soft whimpers that escaped your lips was music to his ears, “I’m close.. Aaron..” the break in your submissive exterior causing him to shiver at his own name, “Sir.. I’m going to cum..”

The faster your fingers moved, the closer that edge became.

“Such a good girl. Go on. Cum on my cock pretty girl.”

Before you knew it, pure bliss was consuming your mind.

“Yeah.. there you go.. fuuuuck you feel so good.”

With his strong hands holding your hips still, your back arched off the bed, your fingers still connected to your core. You were right on the verge of over-stimulation, but not wanting the pleasure to end. With a couple final swipes of your fingertips across your swollen clit, your body shuddered and you pulled away.

A deep exhale relaxed your entire body, as your sleepy eyes slowly opened. You were greeted with the beautiful sight of Aaron’s eyes raking across your entire body, before settling between your legs once more. “Damn sweetheart, that was so sexy.”

You smiled bashfully, as your eyes slipped closed once more. You’d hardly had a chance to get your breath back, before he was knocking it out of you once again. The sudden movement of his hips against yours, and the long drag of his length out of you, was swiftly followed by his body weight on top of yours and his length slamming back into you.

“OH FUCK!” You couldn’t help the scream that escaped your lips, as his pelvis continually brushed across your still sensitive clit. With every thrust, you felt every nerve ending in your body explode.

He kept true to his promise of fucking you until you couldn’t walk. You’d lost count of just how many times he made you cum. As the 6th? 7th? orgasm of the night washed over you, he abruptly snapped his hips into you one last time, as he spilled his release inside the condom.

Your nails dug into his skin, no doubt leaving marks up and down his back. With both of your breathing heavy against each other’s necks, you let out a faint but content laugh. “That.. holy shit..” you spoke between deep breaths, “that.. was incredible.”

His laugh matched yours, airy and weak, but blissful, “I think..” a couple deep breaths, “we need to do that more often.”

A blush crept onto your face as he lifted his head to look you in the eyes, “you like watching me, hey?”

He nodded profusely, your soft Aaron was back once more as a love-sick smile crossed his face, “can you blame me?”

Shaking your head lovingly, you placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled his lips to yours. After sharing a breathless yet passionate kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, and you confessed, “I liked it too..” you laughed again, “I mean, I really liked it..”

A cheeky grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, “yeah?”

All you could do was nod in agreement, as his lips captured yours once more.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Tag List: @ssamorganhotchner ; @ccristata ; @anlin2058 ; @sannunah28 ; @hotchgirlsummer

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literaila · 9 months

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HI! Would you want to write about tasm peter and a reader who is in a band?? I have realized on character ai that I can just tell characters that I'm in a band and I love to see their reaction. I just love the idea of being one of those cool people that play and sing

THANK YOU!!

singing

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: i know nothing about bands but i do know lots about singing in the shower

peter enjoys standing by the sink—pretending to brush his teeth—while you’re singing in the shower (even though you deny it every time he brings it up). he’ll run the water softly and take extra precautions over the health of his teeth. his dentist will be pleased.

he’s used to your voice. you sing everything.

you sing while you’re cleaning, or when you’re cooking dinner for the two of you. you’re always singing along to buzzing music when he meets you at your favorite coffee shop every thursday for lunch. you sing when putting your shoes on, and when dabbing at a fresh cut on his face.

you make up ridiculous songs about the things you’re doing, and laugh when peter walks in the room like you hadn’t noticed he was there. you change your voice and dance along and, honestly, peters not even sure if you’re aware you’re doing any of it.

he loves it all; if he knew as much music as you did, or was any less tone deaf, he would gladly sing along, and for once be apart of the sweet serenading rather than just flushing every time he knows you’re singing a song about him.

peter could listen to you and your voice and your silly little songs for days on end.

but he’s come to love you singing his name the most.

when you’re the first to wake up in the morning, and peter can feel you hum his name onto the skin of his cheek while you kiss him. when he comes home from a late night and you’re still awake, still happy to see him, and smile while you sing like he’s been away for longer than just a few hours.

when you’re messing with him, sing-songing peter just so he’ll frown at you. or when he interrupts you in the middle of your singing, his name becoming a slightly off pitch, slightly surprised exclamation.

if peter walks in the door and you’re not singing, then something is very wrong.

he’s listening to you now, adding toothpaste to his toothbrush for the second time. just to be safe.

when he hears the water turn off, he frowns and a dribble of minty spit falls from his mouth.

you startle when you open the shower door, eyes bright and skin glowing from the water. “peter,” you say—hum—soft and harsh. “why are you just standing there?”

peter mumbles something incoherent through his toothbrush.

you shake your head, but your lip twitches. “we talked about this. i’m tired of having to pick up new toothpaste every other week.”

peter grumbles.

“if you really miss me that much,” you tell him, purposefully bumping into him while you grab lotion from the cabinet, “you can just join me.”

peter spits and frowns. “you don’t sing when we shower together.”

he watches you glance at him from the corner of your eyes.

“i think you mean to say that i don’t sing in the shower ever, peter. it’s okay, we all get confused.”

“i’ve been standing here for the past ten minutes. i heard your rendition of it’s all coming back to me.”

you tilt your head at him, reaching a moisturized hand to touch his temple. “did you hit your head a bit too hard yesterday?”

peter laughs. “i don’t know why you’re so weird about it. i love it.”

“because you’re confused, peter. that’s why.”

“im confused,” he nods solemnly, “about why you continue to deny this.”

you sigh dramatically, turning back to the mirror and beginning to hum again—which peter might point out just proves his point, but he’s a bit too distracted to notice.

he could listen to your voice all day, or he could stare at you, like right now. watching your eyelashes brush your cheek and your smile reach the tip of your nose. he could just admire the slight glow of your skin under the light, or the amusement you’re trying to keep out of your eyes.

he could just wait for you to sing his name again.

“yes, peter?” you ask, after he’s been staring at you for thirty seconds too long.

“i was just wondering if i could join your band?”

your brows furrow inward and you laugh at him, subconsciously leaning your body towards him, and indiscreetly staring back at him in the mirror.

“i play a mean triangle.”

you wince. “ooh, yikes. we just hired a new triangle player. i’ll let you know how it works out.”

peter pretends to think for a moment. “it’s also been said that i’m pretty good with my mouth—“

you push him, laughing as he pushes you back. “that so?”

he nods.

“are you sure?” you ask, sounding doubtful. peters brows furrow at your tone.

he starts to say something but you cut him off. “you know,” you say, voice sly and soft. “we do have one position we need to fill.”

“what?”

“a new muse, of course.”

235 notes · View notes

courtforshort15 · 1 year

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Fever Dream

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN Reader

Word Count: 3,100

Summary: You feel like utter death. Good thing you have a boyfriend whose mother-hen tendencies mean he’s the best at taking care of you.

Trigger warnings: None. Just my self-indulgent imagination of Matt taking care of me while I’m sick.

Masterlist

The sneeze you let out at seven in the morning is almost embarrassingly loud.

It wracks your entire body, the force of it causing you to jerk in your bed, and you barely have time to cover your nose with a tissue. Cringing, you blow your nose before tossing the tissue into the trashcan you’ve moved next to your bed, no longer having the energy to get up and walk each individual one over.

The feeling of sick came on so unexpectedly and savagely that you didn’t have time to make a grocery trip to grab any medicine, and you were currently stuck using almost-expired Benadryl for the congestion and a nearly empty bottle of ibuprofen for your headache and sore throat.

Seriously, you were mostly fine last night. Maybe a little stuffy, but nothing close to this.

With a loud groan, you call your boss on her cell phone to let her know that you won’t be in today, and the raspy tone in your voice paired with the sound of a stuffy nose was enough for her to tell you to take the rest of the week off.

“No, really, please don’t come in,” she tells you, and you can practically feel the way she’s shuddering on the other side of the line. You’ve worked with her long enough to know she’s a major germaphobe, and she’d rather miss a soft deadline by a day or two than have you anywhere near her. You’re not above using that to your advantage, and have done so in the past, especially in instances when you need an excuse to stay with Matt when he’s recovering from a night that’s rougher than usual.

“I am willing to bribe you to make sure you stay home. I will send you all the soup you need if you just stay away.”

“You got it boss lady,” you somehow manage to croak out, cringing at both the pain and the way you sound. “I’ll see you Monday.” With a sigh, you hang up with her, grateful for a large balance of PTO, and fully planning on taking her up on the soup once you have an appetite. She’ll splurge on good stuff, too.

Matt is next. Instead of calling him, you send him a quick text, knowing he’s likely already at the courthouse for the morning, and you’re unwilling to interrupt him at work. He’s less likely to check a message than take a phone call, for obvious reasons, so it's easier to escape the laser focus of his concern for just a few extra hours. Typing out the message, you let him know you’re not feeling well and unable to meet him for lunch, as you usually do on Wednesdays. Knowing him, he’ll call you the second he’s on recess, and will likely end up swinging by this evening anyway.

With a loud exhale that causes your throat to burn and offers an abrupt coughing fit, you lay back down against the pillows, and pass out.

---------

You wake up to the sound of someone pounding on your door, and it startles you enough that you nearly roll out of bed.

It takes you a few moments to get your bearings, grimacing at the way your body feels worse than when you’d fallen asleep, and you mentally curse the person interrupting your rest. It’s probably your obnoxious landlord who finds random excuses to check-in on you, much to your annoyance and Matt’s suspicion, but the man is harmless, guilty of nothing other than using far too much cologne to cover up the stale smell of body odor and of cigarettes.

You’d roll your eyes if the idea of the simple motion didn’t sound so painful.

If you weren’t already certain about having been knocked on your ass by the flu, specifically, there’s no doubt in your mind now. A throbbing headache. A throat that feels like it was being torn apart with glass. Congestion. It was all there, and all you want to do is pass out until you feel better.

The pounding on the door continues, combined with an extremely muffled voice, and deciding your body is too sore and too sick to get up, you roll back over in bed, burying your face under a pillow to drown out the noise. Another coughing fit hits you unexpectedly, and your body spasms with the force of your lungs revolting against you. When you’re done, you vaguely pick up on the silence when the pounding abruptly stops, and you sigh, grateful for the quiet once more.

Neil has given up, it seems, but you’re still bitter that your sleep has been interrupted, and the idea of sending the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to rattle his fire escape at 1am has never felt so appealing.

You’re just about to drift off into sleep again when, not even five minutes later, the sound of your window being opened from the outside shatters the blessed silence once more.

…oh.

Guess that answers the question of who had been pounding on your door. You mentally apologize to Neil.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is quiet as he steps into your room, and you don’t need eyes to know the way he’s probably wrinkling his nose at the smell of sickness that’s wafting inside the cramped space. His sense of smell is so sensitive, and you definitely don’t envy him for it. You can only imagine how your sweat-damp skin smells, or the mouth that had only experienced half of the recommended amount of teeth brushing this morning, too weak to remain standing for long.

Nose wrinkling, you cringe on his behalf.

You feel him settle on the edge of your bed behind you, hand immediately reaching out to rub your back, and your body can’t help but instinctively arch into his touch, despite the fact that you feel like death. He trails his fingers up to the back of your neck, the touch soothing and offering comfort in a way only he can. His skin on yours is the most natural feeling in the world.

“Not feeling well, sweetheart?”

You shake your head miserably, a full body shiver shaking you all the way down to your toes, before coughing into your pillow, too sick to bother covering your mouth and trusting the pillowcase to stop the spray.

Gross.

Matt’s hand gently pulls you over with a light hand on your shoulder until you’re laying on your back, and he makes sure to adjust the blankets around you so that no warmth seeps out from underneath the covers. Your eyes remain tightly shut, unwilling to subject yourself to the bright light of your bedroom. Your head is pounding, borderline migraine material, and even the thought of sunshine makes it throb. “Just a cold?”

Shaking your head again, you open your mouth to answer. “I think it’s the flu.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, your throat too sore to get much else out. He makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. If there’s anyone who understands the feeling of your entire body being sore and in pain, it’s him.

The man, even while he runs himself ragged, hardly ever gets sick. He averages four hours of sleep a night, ends his evenings with grazes and cuts that are likely full of all the various types of bacteria known to man, drinks way less water than he should, and he still remains relatively healthy.

Maybe it’s a good thing, though, you think wryly. He’d either be the worst case of man-flu you’ve ever seen, or he would end up in a ditch somewhere, out patrolling while delirious with a fever. Your man is a hot mess on a good day, and you can’t imagine adding sickness to the foray.

You feel him lay his hand softly on your forehead, and you shudder at how cold it feels in comparison to your warm skin. Your fever must have returned with a vengeance, and you acknowledge it with a barely restrained groan.

“You feel pretty warm,” he tells you, his voice quiet and one of concern. You appreciate that he’s using a gentle tone that is kind on your ears, not wanting to add anything loud and overwhelming less it makes the headache worse. “Have you taken anything?”

“Ibuprofen when I woke up.” Finally opening your eyes, you blearily watch as he frowns, red lips tilted down at the corners. His hand is still on your forehead, but he moves it to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“When did you wake up?”

“Seven, I think.”

He sighs, moving his hand so that it rests on your cheek. “Sweetheart, that was almost six hours ago. Have you been asleep this whole time?”

“I think so,” you whisper, watching as he shrugs his suit jacket off. He tosses it on the chair that’s in the corner of the room, face still tilted towards yours. You always seem to be his sole focus when he’s around you, and it never fails to make your heart stutter. “I fell asleep after I texted you.”

Matt leans over to place his glasses on your bedside table before he returns back to you, his face one of confusion, and his eyes looking more hazel than normal in the sunlight as they roam blindly over your form. “You didn’t text me.”

Your own eyes briefly flutter close again, even as hard as you try to keep them open. You reach up and pull his hand away from your face so that you can lace your fingers with his. His hand squeezes yours gently. “Yeah I did. I told you I wasn’t going to make lunch today.”

“I didn’t get a text from you,” he reiterates with a calm shake of his head. “I’ve been calling you for the past hour when you didn’t show up.”

“But I–” Eyes opening again, you move to sit up, but he pushes you gently back down. Your neck and shoulders immediately relax back into your pillow with a sigh. “Can you hand me my phone?”

Matt grabs your phone from where it had apparently been resting by your knee and places it into your outstretched hand without a word. His hand goes back to your cheek so that can resume rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone, and it takes great effort to not fall back to sleep and close your eyes again. Fingers weak with sickness, you press in your fingerprint to unlock your phone, noticing immediately the several calls, texts and voicemails, most of them from him but a few from Karen, too. You grimace at the obvious display of his concern, knowing the level of anxiety that had likely popped up when you didn't answer any of the calls.

No wonder he had been pounding on your door.

You open up your chat with him, wincing when you see what had happened. “I never hit send,” you tell him with a whisper, throat still rebelling against the words forcing themselves out of your throat. “I’m sorry, Matt. I really did mean to text you. I was pretty out of it.”

He leans down and presses a kiss into your forehead. His stubble briefly rasps against your skin, and you can’t help but want to lean into it, even while the texture feels scratchy on skin that seems to be more sensitive than usual. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You snort softly, unable to help yourself. “If you call feeling like I’m dying okay, then sure. I’m okay.”

Matt makes another sympathetic sound in the back of his throat, hand still softly rubbing your cheek. You shift in your bed, trying to burrow yourself further into the covers. He pulls the blankets tighter around you, helping them settle up around your neck. “I’m going to grab Tylenol to help bring your fever down.”

You cringe, and Matt’s brow furrows, indicating he’s caught onto the brief twitch of your face. “I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any Tylenol?”

You cough again, this time covering your mouth to avoid coughing in his face. He doesn’t shift away from you as you do, just continues to keep his face near yours so that you don’t have to strain your voice to speak to him. “No,” you manage to rasp out when you’re done. “I’m out.”

He groans suddenly. “I depleted your stash last week, didn’t I?”

The same memory that had apparently hit him hits you a second later, the image of him holding a bloody rag to his shoulder that had taken a heavy hit flitting through your head briefly. You’d given him the last two tablets in the bottle as his lips twisted into a wry grin, promising to buy you a new bottle. You’d asked him to promise to avoid getting hit so frequently instead, the grin on your face just as dry and fond. “I– yeah, I think so.”

“I’m sorry, love. I meant to grab more for you.”

You twist your head to cover another cough. “It’s fine, I forgot about grabbing some, too.”

“Do you have Ibuprofen?” he asks as he runs a hand through his hair, still looking somewhat frustrated at himself as he shifts slightly on your bed.

“Not much, but yeah,” you say with a wince. “That bottle’s almost empty, too.”

“How about any cold medicine? Decongestants? Something for your cough?”

“No,” you reply with another grimace. To his credit, he doesn’t twist his face into the disbelief he’s surely feeling, both at himself and at you. His eye twitches, though.

“How are you out of that, too?”

“Judgmental, much?” you ask with a grin that’s far too humorous for the situation and the way everything seems to hurt, including the muscles in your face. “I wasn’t exactly planning to get this sick.”

“You should have–”

“Don’t be such a hypocrite, Matthew.”

He sighs, hand darting up to run a quick hand down his face, attempting to hide a smile that relays a level of exasperation. “What do you have, then?”

“Just Benadryl…that’s almost expired.”

Matt lets loose another loud exhale and slowly lifts his head to face the ceiling as if sarcastically thanking the universe for letting him fall for someone who seems to be so bad at taking care of themselves. You’d laugh if it wouldn’t lead to a loud coughing fit.

Pot. Kettle.

“Okay, I’m going to call Karen to see if she can bring some stuff by.”

“I don't–”

He's shaking his head before you even finish your objection. “Sweetheart, you’re so congested you can’t breathe out of your nose, and you've got a 101 degree fever. You need to take something," he tells you, and you know there’s no arguing against this man once he’s set his mind to something.

“How would you know my fever is that high?” Matt gives you the flattest look you’ve ever seen. “Okay, stupid question.”

“Just close your eyes,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “I’m going to bring you a glass of water and some Ibuprofen, and call Karen to see if she can bring anything over.”

You nod miserably, energy suddenly draining and turning you back into a whimpering mess. He leaves the room, kicking his shoes off in the process, and you pick up your phone again once he’s out of sight, a wince twitching on your face at the notification of thirty emails that have popped up in your inbox. You open the app, scrolling down through the messages with a sigh.

“You better not be checking your email right now,” Matt’s voice calls out to you from the kitchen suddenly, and you almost drop your phone onto your face in surprise.

He knows you too well.

“I’m not,” you say as loudly as you can, which is still minimal, but you know he can hear you regardless, so you’re not too concerned. You roll over to place your phone back onto your bedside table with a loud sigh, wrist and arm feeling entirely too weak as it reaches out.

“Liar," is all he responds with, before his voice quiets down again. There’s a brief moment of silence before you pick up on the soft murmur of his voice, no doubt on the phone with Karen. The sound of your cabinet being opened and the faucet being turned on hits your ears, and you sigh at the domesticity of it all. Things of yours have been slowly migrating to his apartment in preparation of the move that’s happening in a month’s time, but there’s just something about him knowing your apartment like the back of his hand and feeling comfortable in a space that’s been solely yours for the past two years.

A few minutes later, he’s walking back into your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand, your dwindling bottle of painkillers in the other, mouth turned up in a soft, soothing smile. He helps you sit up, his arm gently snaking around your shoulders to support you, and encourages you to drink the water and toss back the pills as lips ghost across your forehead.

Even swallowing something cold makes your throat burn on the way down, and you groan in pain.

He helps you lay back down, easing you backwards and holding your weight so that you don’t just flop back onto the pillows. He pulls his arm out from underneath you and reaches out to set the glass onto your night table as he moves to stand up. You close your eyes again against the light of your room, and you hear the subtle sound of a belt being unbuckled and fabric hitting the chair in the corner.

Matt lifts up the covers and slides in beside you, his bare skin pressing up against yours as he nudges you onto your side so that he can cradle you from behind. Despite the brief chill, he quickly becomes a furnace pressed against you, and you can’t help the quiet moan that sneaks past chapped lips at the heat you hadn’t known you’d been needing.

“You’ll get sick,” you protest weakly as you settle into his chest, almost immediately soothed by the feeling of his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispers into your ear before leaning over you to kiss your cheek, settling back down behind you when he’s done, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. “Just go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Despite the sickness ravaging your body, or maybe because of it, you slip back into an easy sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest behind you settling you the way it always does. Your head is pounding, your whole body aches, and you can’t breathe through your nose, but everything feels better when he’s holding you.

#matt murdock #daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x gn!reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #sickfic

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w1ldthoughts · 9 months

Text

Killer Kravings

A/n: Happy preseason game day! Here’s some cute Justin fluff for ya.

Warnings: pregnancy

Follow-up piece

You really did try to go to sleep. You readjusted the pregnancy pillow to where you wanted it, a few times, turned up the fan from your phone and even scrolled mindlessly through Tik Tok for an hour with your headphones in but nothing could take the one thing on your mind: cinnamon French toast and a vanilla shake from Canter’s Deli. The only issue was that it was 1:42am and Justin was soundly asleep next to you. You didn’t want to risk waking him up and disrupting his sleep schedule three days before a game but you also knew that the only way you’d be able to get some sleep tonight is if you made this tiny road trip.

As stealthy and quietly as you could get out of bed at 33 weeks pregnant, you grabbed a hoodie to pair with your Nike sweat shorts and headed to the closet to find some shoes. You were prepped and ready to go until you noticed your husband sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Where are you headed off to?” His voice was a bit hoarse from not using it for a few hours. And probably from celebrating and cheering with the guys all throughout practice this week.

You’d been busted. “I can’t sleep and the baby really wants a vanilla shake from Canter’s and—”

“Canter’s? That’s like an hour away babe, you’re not going by yourself.” Justin huffs out a breath, standing up and giving his body a quick stretch, attempting to soothe the sore muscles that have accumulated a lot of wear and tear throughout the season. “Give me like two minutes, I’ll drive.”

“No it’s fine, I’ll be right back. You can go back to sleep, it’s Raiders week.”

He laughs and grabs a T-shirt and shoes, quickly getting dressed. Once he was finished, he stood up to place a tender kiss to your forehead. “It is Raiders week but I’ve got an important mission to accomplish right now. Let’s go get you and my baby some Canter’s.”

Although you felt a little guilty for waking him up, you secretly relished in the moments you got to spend alone with Justin during football season. Most of the time you only saw him for a few hours at a time when he wasn’t at the facility or watching film and you’d even taken up watching game tape so much that you could probably break down most NFL defenses if you wanted to. But this season was a little different with the pending arrival of your first child. Baby Herbert was going to be half you and half him and you’d never seen him so excited and ready for this next chapter of your lives.

Justin always talked about how his dad had shaped him as a person and he modeled the way he lived after Mark Herbert and the thought of having his own kid to look after and take care of created this glow of joy around him everywhere he went. And it made him even sexier if you were honest. Although the season was busy he was even more attentive and caring than before which you didn’t think was possible. He attended every doctors appointment 15 minutes early, read more baby books than you had, downloaded a pregnancy app to track the baby’s growth as well as tracking your sleep while he was on the road. It was sweet. You couldn’t wait to watch him walk around your house holding a tiny baby in his large hands. But there was also the fact that you’d decided to procreate with a man who was 6’6 and weighed 240 pounds so maybe…baby Herbert could just stay in there a little while longer.

Two and a half hours later, you were back home sitting at the kitchen counter ready to dig into the meal that you had been thinking about for approximately five hours.

“Do you want some?” You asked him in between bites, letting out a satisfied moan.

You hear a small laugh behind you as he places his hands around your bump, making tiny circles with his thumbs. “I’m okay baby, I’ll just wait til you’re done so we can head upstairs.”

“Thanks for taking me J. I’m sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“Eh I’ll be fine. As long as my girls are okay, I’m good.” He responds with a peck as he helps you up the stairs.

“Well your girls appreciate it. And we’re so lucky to have you.” You yawn as you climb back into bed, Justin covering the two of you with the duvet. He cuddled into you as you hugged your pillow once again, sleep quickly taking over.

Just when you thought you couldn’t love him any more, you made him a dad and the love you had for him increased tenfold.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #nfl imagine #los angeles chargers

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mondaysoct · 22 days

Text

restless night.

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

—content: angst, fluff, he found you in his dreams | part 1: distress of mind.

—word count: 1.5k

The weight of the silence sinking in as the sun sets and the room grows darker. His mind is filled with regret and doubt. He can barely see the tiny picture of you on his screen.

The silence continues to grow as he starts to feel exhausted and gives in. The sadness begins slowly growing in his mind as the silence consumes him.

He closes his eyes and lets the darkness take over.

The clock strikes midnight and the hours tick by into the 1’s and then 2 o’clock.

Desperately waiting.

Waiting for something from you. But nothing comes.

Give into the reality that he is truly alone.

He tosses and turns throughout the night. His sleep is fitful, interrupted by dreams of you. He can see your face and your figure. But he can’t hear your voice as you speak to him. He reaches out, trying to touch you in his dreams, but you disappear in an instant, leaving him in the empty void once again.

Always trying to touch you. Always coming up empty. It’s the same dream every night. The same empty void. The same longing for you.

Exhausted from the restless night but his mind is still active.

He keeps reaching out for you. Desperate to find you again and feel you against him. Each time he thinks he has found you, though, you disappear from his grasp. It’s like a cruel game being played. One where the only loser is him.

Another hour passes by as the clock strikes three-thirty. And still his mind remains active. He feels his body getting physically exhausted from lack of sleep. But he’s too caught up in thoughts of you.

He can feel your presence. Can hear your voice. Can almost feel the touch of your skin. But just as he feels so close to you…you disappear and leave him alone again.

Every time your name pops into his head, a small wave of longing crashes down on him. It’s like his brain is taunting him, reminding him of everything that he once had. And the void of your absence is starting to drive him insane.

Tender make love going smoothly, happens in midnight when everything went silent as he near you between his cruel world.

The touch of your fingers as they run up his skin. He hears the soft giggles from you and his gut squirms with butterflies as he stares at your lovely face.

He can almost feel everything happening. Even though it isn’t actually happening.

You're getting into it, your body shifting and rubbing against his as he holds you down on the bed. Your breath hot and heavy as you keep whispering his name.

He can barely make out the words with your heavy breath. Your plumpy, dark pink lips begging for him to take charge. The sweat on his skin is making your grip slip but he roll his hips in steady pace inside you make you moan for him.

You arching your back, your body shakes and shivers from the release.

Your legs loosen from him and you fall back and leans yourself on the bed.

"I love you, simon. Believe me, God knows how much I love you." You whisper with soft smile on your lips.

He stares at you and he wants to say it back too. But is it real? Is it just because it’s a dream? Will he see you again? Will he ever hear those words again…?

You stare into his eyes. You can see the uncertainty in them. You wonder if he’s really hearing you…or just dreaming it.

A small breeze of night air mix with heat of sex moves throughout the room. The moonlight casts shadows on the bodies as you lay naked on the bed after sharing intimacy.

Minutes pass by and the silence continues. He looks at you for a long time. He knows that if he ever wakes up from this dream. You will be gone again. Like you were always gone. He sighs and just stares at you. Eventually his eyes start to flicker as his body is too tired to stay awake in this dream any longer.

He stares at you for a few more moments before he finally speaks. "I love you too...so much...more than I could ever say..."

He smiles to himself at the thought. His stomach flips at the thought of your love. Even if it was just a dream. Even if it wasn’t real. It felt real enough for him. He’s just going to enjoy the moment. He doesn’t want to think about anything else right now. Just the hope of you…the hope of being told those words again...

You stare back at him with a soft glimmer in your eyes. You smile and kisses him softly on the lips.

He can’t believe he’s actually able to feel this. To touch you. To hold you. The heat and the touch of your body distracting him.

“Y/N…” He whispers your name again. He’s never said your name before like this. But he can’t help himself now.

“Yes Simon?” You whisper back that you’re there and your presence is like a light to him.

“...How…how did you find me…” He whispers.

"I don't know, I think God lead the way." You say.

He smiles at the thought of it being so simple, that it was just the work of an entity that knew better than human comprehension.

He thinks about the concept of God. The idea that it’s possible that something greater is watching over them, guiding them.

Would a higher power really do that? Lead you to him? To lead you to his soul? He’s beginning to believe it. And he’s starting to have a faint feeling of hope.

He loves the idea that you made your way here like something grander than themselves. Something divine.

You had no idea how right you are. It seems as of fate has brought you together again. A chance for him to have someone to hold him. To tell him that you love him. To make him feel seen and appreciated. To care. To be cared for.

He stares at you for a moment as a wave of relief goes through him. He's not sure of why he feels relieved, but he does. "I'm glad he brought you to me..."

“God knows what good for us, Si.”

“He does…” he says quietly, but there are some doubts to his mind. How were these two paths intertwined? How did God lead you here in the first place? But he suppresses the thoughts, choosing not to think about them.

“He must…He must know something…” He holds you tight and he closes his eyes as he tries to keep the moment alive.

“He knows what?” You ask.

"Know that we're meant to be."

"Promise me one thing..." He said.

“Yes?”

"Promise me...that if I ever find you again…you won't disappear on me."

There's a slight pause and he adds.

"Promise me...that we can make this work."

There a slight silent moment when you think about his words. And you said. “I promise, we always find the way.”

"I hope so." He whispers and he stares up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes. "I don't want to ever lose you."

He holds you tighter, squeezing you until you can't leave if you wanted to. "I don't want to lose this. It feels so real..."

“This is real.” You correct.

"Is it? Is it really real?" He asks. His doubt starts to show again. His mind can't fully believe it. He stares up at the ceiling, as if he wants confirmation.

“I think you drink too much, love.” He stares at you as you lean your head up against him. Your eyes have a playful glint in them when you giggle at him. It makes him forget about his doubt for a second and he laughs with you.

"I'm not drunk. I've been completely sober this whole time. Love." He says playfully, he puts extra stress on the word 'love'. He grins after saying the word.

The moment is so precious to him and he feels something he hasn’t felt in years.

The doubt and thoughts creep back in again. A frown forms on his face as his mind starts thinking again.

His mind keeps going back to "is it real?" The memories of what they had feel like it really happened; everything feels so real even now.

This is the closest to reality that he’s gotten so far..even if it is just a dream.

The dream feels so real to him…was it just a dream? Or is that still you, talking to him…in his dreams? Or is it someone new in his life? Someone new that really loves him back? Someone who really is there for him?…The doubt and the sadness creeps in slowly and he can feel that familiar sensation creeping back on his mind.

He sighs and he squeezes his eyes shut. He's tired. He's tired of thinking about everything. He's mentally exhausted. The thoughts and the doubts are just spinning around his head. He wants the reality of that dream to be real so much, but that's just not possible. He doesn't even know if he'll find you again. His frown darkens in the silence.

Thanks for reading ♡

dividers by: @cafekitsune

#ℳ—writes #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #writing

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just-wrting · 9 months

Text

Undercover

Title: Undercover

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Working on a case, leads to you and Hotch pretending to be a couple to lure out an unsub. While you're aware of the impact it has on your crush, you're unaware of the impact it has on Hotch.

Word Count: 4892

Master List

A/N: This has been my longest sitting Hotch draft so I sat down today and wrote this! It only took me a few hours cause I couldn't stop watching Criminal Minds while writing this. This is also so that people who aren't enjoying the Babysitter series a break. This was also gonna have smut but I want sleep more than that.

You had lots of feelings about Hotch. As your boss, he was good at his job. He was usually level-headed, calm, and direct. He did well in a leadership role and was able to command the team well. On top of that, his voice was smooth and his hands warm. He took good care of everyone, even you. That led to your biggest issue with your job at the BAU, you had started to develop a crush on your boss.

The gentle sound of papers rustling is what makes you realize that you’re not alone. You’ve managed to zone out while on the plane. Thankfully it’s in the last part of the trip, the part where you all mostly read the files on your own and tried to piece things together.

Emily slides back into her seat next to you and pushes a cup toward you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you have a single thing to drink on this flight.”

You take a sip from the cup and gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I tend to be a little squished into the seat by the window and don’t want to interrupt someone’s thoughts. I know no one’s going to be mad, but I’d rather not risk something that could be important.”

“Dehydration will just make it harder for you to focus, (Y/N). Granted the effects take much longer to set in, but the average adult doesn’t drink nearly enough water.”

You look over the table at Reid. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind before I choose my coffee.”

“You sure it’s a cup of coffee you’ll be choosing? I’ve seen you with more soda in your hand than coffee.”

You shake your head at Morgan before looking back at the files in your hand. Morgan had been right. Maybe not about the soda but about the fact that no matter how many cases you did, it wasn’t any easier. Each victim was someone that could no longer be saved. They all had a family that wanted them back, and there was nothing you could do.

—

Once you had landed, Hotch sent you with Morgan to go look at the crime scene. It is your least favorite task, not to mention your weak stomach after a flight, you don’t like looking at the blood longer than you have to. Thankfully, Morgan is good at keeping you calm and is willing to check on rooms first. He’ll always give you a warning, your own little one-to-five scale, on how bad the room was.

“The bodies were found still in bed. The neighbors said they didn’t hear anything so maybe the first thing he did was make sure they couldn’t scream.”

You nod as Morgan walks around the bed. “Based on trauma on the head I’d go with at least one woke up. The husband had an indent on the back of his head. Given that there wasn’t anything left at the crime scene, the killer took it with him.”

“Okay so, the unsub gets into the house and comes upstairs to the couple sleeping. Maybe he makes a noise or something. Husband wakes up and the unsub hits him so he stays quiet.”

“What about the wife? I’ve heard men are deeper sleepers so wouldn’t she have woken up? Plus this isn’t the first murder. Wouldn’t the unsub know better than to make noises?”

“Maybe he killed the wife first. The blood or the smell could’ve woken the husband. Maybe even the wife moving before she died woke him up. It didn’t take him long to kill both of them. Time of death for both was around 3 am.”

“If he was done with the wife, why not just kill the husband right away? Why bother knocking him out?”

With that, Morgan shrugs and looks at you. “I don’t know. Maybe it was easier. All I know is that there isn’t much else here.”

“Do you think this couple was having fun?”

Morgan blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, there’s not much in here to suggest that they had intimacy. Besides the blood, this bedroom looks like it was set up for a showing. There are no pictures of them together besides a wedding photo. I doubt you’d find sexual items in here.”

Morgan gave the room a once-over. “I guess so. A loveless marriage that didn’t even have kids. I wonder what kept them together.”

—

“So we’ve got multiple couples murdered. They all have their similarities. The men all have some sort of desk job and made decent money. The wives all did some sort of work with people. For example, wife number one was a teacher, and wife number two was a tour guide for the museum. Beyond that, they didn’t have any other things in common. No common places they went or people they knew.”

Morgan held open the door for you. “Actually, I don’t think any of them had kids. Where are the crime scene photos?”

Emily hands you a file that you pop open and show to Morgan. “They all seem to be set up the same. All master bedrooms with the victims inside on the bed.”

As you flip through them, you start to feel queasy. The pictures still contain the bodies in their posed positions on the bed. The walls and furniture are covered in blood. You do your best to pull your eyes from the bodies. You want to look at what was in the rooms.

“It’s the same in these. There are no signs of love or a happy couple. Not a photo besides the wedding one.”

Hotch gives you a glance and you hold out the file. “What do you think this could mean?”

“Well, maybe it’s all staged. The photo happens to be on the wives’ side of the bed and they all happen to sleep on the right side. While that may happen to be the most common side for the wife to sleep on, it’s all preference. They’re posed in a way that makes them look like they’re in a mattress commercial.”

“So the unsub could be acting out a fantasy with the couples. But what sort of fantasy could it be? He’s not pretending to be the husband, there’s no sexual aspect to it,” Rossi wonders while he rubs his chin.

Emily takes the files back from you. “Maybe he’s jealous. Maybe he doesn’t do well with women or doesn’t have a stable job.”

You awkwardly let your hand fall to your side. Hotch is being a little colder than usual today, but you can’t let it bother you. Just because you want the little “thank you” in his eyes when you hand him something, doesn’t mean anything. You just want what everyone wants. You want his approval.

—

“(Y/N).”

Hotch says your name for what is probably the tenth time. You are too lost in thought to notice the other times, but now you look up. You meet his eyes as he tries to pass you a cup of coffee. Scrambling to move the files around, you shoved the papers around until you had a small space for the cup.

“Thanks! I was sure I was going to have to use all these files to take a nap,” you joked. “Nothing like sitting here and looking through papers to make me excited.”

Hotch raises a brow. “Find anything yet?”

You give a sigh. “Nope. Unlike Reid, I can’t read super fast or remember everything. Going through paperwork feels like hell, but at least today I had a savior to bring me my coffee.”

You make eye contact with Hotch and give him a soft smile. You are so happy that he looks out for you. It makes you feel special, even if you know he does it for everyone. You know that it is stupid, but every little nice thing he does gives you butterflies.

Hotch gives a chuckle. “I get to be your savior? Just for bringing you a coffee?”

“Mhm. You tend to be there when I need something so why shouldn’t I call you my savior?”

He shoots you a quick smile as Morgan walks in behind him. “You don’t say things like that because I’m here to tease you, (Y/N). If Hotch is your savior what do I get to be?”

“You, Derek Morgan, can be my one and only nuisance. Only you tease me about the little things.”

Clearing his throat, Hotch asks, “Find anything yet?”

“Well if by anything you really mean anything then yeah. I found a bunch of random things that make no sense and have no use. If you meant anything by useful, then no, I have nothing. I did come up with a few more ideas about our unsub though.”

Hotch gives you a nod to keep going, while Morgan leans against the door frame. “Well, the first murder doesn’t differ from the others. Normally it's the one where they develop a pattern but there isn’t anything out of place.”

“So perhaps this isn’t his first murder,” Morgan says.

You shake your head. “There’s no other murders in the area that match. It might be his first kill but it’s not his first violent act. Not to mention I thought it was odd that he focused on hurting the men more than the women. Perhaps he had an issue with his parents. Or resentment towards a male figure in his life.”

“Like a child of divorce or perhaps an abusive father.” This time Hotch acknowledges what you are saying. “He might even have a record for aggressive and violent behavior.”

“Well we can have Garcia look into that but right now we don't have much else to go on. Besides knowing the unsub is only half the battle. We need to know what connects the victims. Where could he have met or seen all of these people? There has to be a place or a person that connects all the victims.”

You choose to let Hotch glance at the files on top while you down your coffee as fast as you can. You don’t want to be a downer on the fact that Morgan is right, but you’re starting to feel tired. You aren’t sure if you could handle even another five minutes staring at paperwork.

“Do you think that figuring that out can wait? I mean everyone else is still doing their interviews on the families. That could bring something to the table.” You set the empty cup on the table. “Besides, if I have to look at another file in the next ten minutes I might go nuts.”

Hotch gives you a soft smile. “Sure. How about you go and take a break? Actually, if you don’t mind, maybe you could get something for the team to eat when they get back while we go over the information. I doubt most of them have had lunch yet.”

You stand and stretch. “Absolutely! I’d do almost anything to get out of this stuffy room with all of this paper.”

“Hey cupcake, get me some good coffee while you’re out,” Morgan gives a cheeky grin. “Oh and maybe a donut, since you’re not giving me enough sweetness.”

You roll your eyes and give him a light shove. “Your little tech goddess wouldn’t be happy with you shooting words like that at someone else. So tone it down, Muscle Man.”

Morgan puts his hand to his heart and makes a fake groan. His silly little act makes you giggle. You know it's all jokes, but you can’t help smiling at it. Morgan always knows how to lighten the mood.

“Hotch did you want anything in particular? Since Morgan’s trying to boss me around with his orders, I figured the real boss should have a say in what I get him.” Your hand rests on the doorway. “Feel free to send me a text about it.”

You turn and walk out the door before Hotch or Morgan can say anything else. You can feel your heart race. Telling Hotch to text you feels so personal despite it not being personal at all. To make matters worse, you hear your phone chime with the ringtone you have set for Hotch.

Despite wanting to look at it right away, you choose to wait until you get into one of the vehicles. You feel like if you look while still in the building, it’ll give away your feelings. It's bad enough that Emily gives you crap about it, Morgan would be a nightmare. Besides you don’t trust him to not slip up and spill it.

Thankfully the coffee shop isn’t far, no more than a ten minute drive, and it gives you time to think. As much as you’d like to avoid thinking about the case, you know you should. That and it’s subconscious at this point. Almost every waking moment on a case is spent thinking about the case.

There’s only so many places that people could have in common. Only one family was religious so that rules out church. They didn’t have any of the same sort of hobbies or even work near each other. The only thing they had in common was budget. Similar houses and similar cars made it easy to spot, and Garcia checked on their credit.

After placing the order, you aren’t even sure how you’ll carry that much coffee into the precinct, you take a seat and people watch. It’s nothing special, a few students studying, a mom and child planning on how to best utilize play time, and a younger couple are all that occupy the tables.

The couple appears to be getting along, and you made note of how badly you wanted a coffee date. That’s when a thought occurs. What if the couples had gone on a date? You remember reading about a case that involved a couple murdering to respark their love after a marriage counselor suggested finding something like that.

After making sure that your order is correct and strapping it firmly into the car, you call Garcia. The Bluetooth connects in the car and within seconds Garcia picks up.

“BAU tech genius at your service!”

You smile as you reply, “My tech genius, are you able to see what purchases the couples made the days before their deaths?”

“Do kittens have whiskers? Of course I can. What am I looking for?”

“Can you see if they all went to the same restaurant? My hunch is that since most of them were seeing counselors that resparking romance was suggested so they might have tried to have a romantic date.”

The keyboard clicks away. “I’ll look into it. Now I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got officer sexy calling me so I need to let you go.”

You laugh. “Just make sure if he asks you to do what I’m having you do, tell him it was my idea first.”

“Will do, sugar. Bye!”

With a click, Garcia is gone. You know by the time you get back to the precinct, she’ll have your answer. Which will be amazing since the faster you solve this case the faster you can go back to smothering your feelings.

It’s not that you hate the fact that you have a crush on Hotch. It just makes your job hard. Standing next to him makes your heart pound and when he smiles at you, you know you’re in deep. Not to mention how gentle and warm his hands are, despite being calloused, when he checks you over for injuries.

Thankfully, by the time you walk into the precinct, everyone else is there. J.J. and Ried help you bring everything in. As you pass out the food, Morgan puts Garcia on speaker.

“Alrighty. I looked into an idea that (Y/N) had and struck gold. Almost literally. All of the couples did in fact go on a fancy schmancy date to a place called the Golden Roast the day before they were found murdered.”

“What made you have the idea to look into that?” Morgan asks. “How did you figure it out?”

You glance at Morgan before continuing to unwrap the sandwich in front of you. “Well, multiple of the couples had marriage counselors and I’ve heard that one of the things they tell couples is to try and find that romantic spark. Going on a fancy romantic dinner date seems like it would be a good idea.”

“A place that like that may want us to bring a warrant. We can go and look but we should still have some sort of backup plan given that we don’t have much to go on to find the unsub,” Ried says as he eats his food.

“So let’s have two people go undercover. We send two other people in to talk to the staff about the couples. The undercover couple acts like the victims and we can use them to lure out the unsub.”

You raise your eyebrow at Morgan. Sure, sending people undercover would be the fastest way to find the unsub but that didn’t stop the fact that apparently one person alone murdered two people. Something about it was still bothering you.

“So, we send two people undercover to pretenc like they’re married. Who do we send?” you ask.

Emily gives you a sly smile. “Since you’re asking who’s going, why not you? Pick someone out.”

You quickly realize what she’s up to. “Maybe you should go since you’re avoiding it. Afraid the tension will be too much for you?”

Rossi nods his head. “Well since (Y/N) is going undercover for practically the first time why don’t we send someone seasoned? I’m far too old to pretend to be their husband, but perhaps Hotch could.”

You nearly choke on your coffee at his words. It sounds like a poor plan, granted you wouldn’t mind playing Hotch’s wife, you didn’t want to argue with him. Everyone else seems to be in agreement on the plan, and your fate is sealed.

—

The fancy clothes feel constricting and you do your best to not touch your hair. The atmosphere is far too romantic for you, and you feel so nervous. It takes all of your willpower to stay on task and not just admire how absolutely hot Hotch is.

“Do you know what you plan on ordering?” Hotch asks. “Or are you going to look at the menu all night?”

His voice is a little harsh and it pulls you back to reality. You need to get on his nerves and pick at everything he does. Or at least that’s what Morgan told you after talking to the staff.

“Well, maybe if you knew that this place isn’t what I like, I wouldn’t have such a hard time picking something to eat.”

The waiter offers you a glass of wine and you decline. The one that seems to come preset with the table is going to be hard enough to pretend to drink, and you don’t need more of it on the table. You can hear the murmur of other couples, and you realize that an argument would definitely draw the unsub to you.

“How am I supposed to know what you like? You don’t talk to me much.”

“Maybe if you weren’t married to your job, Aaron, I’d have time to talk to you.”

His gaze is icy and you know that hits a nerve. You’ve both heard before in a relationship. It’s what your job brings. You feel bad about it, but you know this has to be realistic.

The conversation between you and Hotch simmers down as the waiter takes your order. You take the time to scan the restaurant looking for a possible clue. No one sticks out, and you return your eyes to Hotch.

“You know that work keeps me busy. I have a lot of paperwork and it keeps me at the office late.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Sure it’s not one of those pretty little ladies at the office?”

Hotch clenches his fist. “Are you accusing me of something?”

You meet his eyes. You’re doing your best to be convincing as an angry wife. It seems to be working, as a couple of tables are doing their best to look at the two of you. Hotch’s gaze remains cold, and you don’t like it.

“I didn’t say anything. Why are jumping to conclusions if you have nothing to hide?”

You trace the rim of the wine glass. Hotch’s eyes follow your hand as you do this, watching as you pretend to drink. The waiter jumps at the chance to bring you your meal.

The entire meal is silent. You watch each other over the candle light, and you make note about how nervous that makes you. Crossing a romantic candle lit dinner off the bucket list is happening, and its strictly for the firehazard.

“Since you aren’t replying, I’m going to assume you have something to hide.”

Hotch’s fork clatters against plate. “I don’t have anything to hide. Can you stop jumping to conclusions for one dinner? I’m trying to make this work.”

You make a face and push your plate away. “I think I’ve lost my appetite, thanks. Can we hurry this up, please?”

Hotch waves the waiter over and takes care of the check. You watch as his jaw unclenches, and you really want to kiss him. The romantic dinner may help you catch the unsub, but you know it’s making your crush worse.

—

The car ride to the sheriff’s house is silent for the first few minutes. You are making sure to face away from Hotch due to a bit of a hunch. There was a few people who had bumped into you and Hotch. If one of those people is the unsub, they could’ve left some sort of bug.

“(Y/N)? I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off. “Save it, Aaron. I need some space to calm down. Talking about it isn’t going to help.”

He looks shocked, but keeps driving. At a stop sign, he glances over at you and you give a small smile. You mouth ‘I’ll explain to you later’.

—

You know that you don’t have the bug. You make sure to gently touch the areas that you had been bumped, carefully feeling for any sort device. There’s nothing there, and you know you’ll have to check Hotch. Just how to do it without letting the unsub know.

“You’re right, Aaron. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. Here. Let me take your jacket.”

You move closer to him. You slide your hand up under his jacket and up over his shoulder. Hotch is too shocked to stop you and you are able to successfully pull his jacket off. Hidden under the collar is a little device.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing?”

“What do you mean, Aaron? I’m just trying to have some intimacy. It’s called make-up sex if I’m correct.”

“I don’t think-”

You huff. “Fine. I get it. Don’t forget to check your jacket for stuff in the pockets because I don’t want another incident like last time. I’m going to bed, Aaron.”

In the hallway, you start to panic. Did you take it too far? You know that the team could hear what you were saying and that thought makes you die a little inside. At least one of them will be giving you shit about it tomorrow.

—

You’ve been in bed for about four hours before you hear anything. Aaron is in bed next to you, a respectable distance away. The sound of a door creaking leads him to roll over to face you. His hand on your arm would be reassuring, if you didn’t happen to have a gun tucked under the pillow.

You both do your best to stay still as you wait for whoever it is to enter the bedroom. By now, the tem is most likely getting into position. None of the murders have been done with a gun, so you feel less nervous about the unsub entering the bedroom. Besides, Hotch has amazing aim.

The next noise is the bedroom door opening. Gentle footsteps enter the room and walk closer to the bed. Before a hand even reaches the sheets, Aaron shoots up. You grab your gun with one hand and flip on the light with the other.

A man stands at the foot of your bed holding a knife and baseball bat. With two guns trained on him, he’s frozen.

“Drop the weapons.”

The bat clatters to the ground and the unsub starts to back up. You know he’s about to make a dash for it.

“Don’t even think about it! One of us will shoot you before you can even make it through the doorway.”

You and Hotch get out of the bed. Within seconds, Hotch has the unsub pinned against the doorframe, the knife skittering across the hallway floor.

—

After that the case wraps up easily. The man caves easily as the submissive partner looking for the ideal romantic relationship with a woman who was using him to get rid of couples who argued at the restaurant, reminding her of her parents.

The plane ride is quiet. Most of the team seems asleep, and after double checking, you sit down next to Hotch. You slide him a cup of water and fold your hands on the table.

“About the things I said, I’m sorry. Most of it was stuff that my ex had said about me so I figured it would work.”

Hotch gives you a smile. “It’s alright. I also wanted to apologize. I hope I wasn’t too harsh.”

“Well, it worked out in the end. You’re a much better actor than I am. You played the part of a man who loved me and wanted to yell at me at the same time.”

“I wasn’t acting.”

This time it’s you who’s too stunned to speak. You open your mouth and then close it while staring at him.

“Acting about what?”

Hotch looks bashful. “About you. This case has officially made it clear that I have developed feelings for you. In fact, if you’d like, I would like to take you out for dinner properly.”

“I-I think I’d love that. Maybe later in the week. I could use some relaxing after this.”

Hotch unclasps your hands and holds them in his. You can feel your heart race, but give his hand a gentle squeeze. The two of you spend the rest of the plane trip in a comfortable silence, occasionally give each other smiles.

Once you land, you make your way to your car and slide into the driver’s seat. Turning the key leads to a sputter without much else. Of course having an amazing thing happen is immediately followed by something bad happening. Your bad luck stops there, as Hotch knocks on your window.

“Jack happens to be with a friend tonight, if you want to spend the night. Not that you have to of course.”

“I didn’t take you for the type of man that moves faster than Morgan,” you tease. “But in all seriousness that’s better than keeping you up longer than you need to be so you can take me home.”

“Helping the team is what I’m supposed to do. You aren’t a bother to me, (Y/N).”

“Aaron? Can I be honest for just a moment?” He nods as he takes your bag. “I’ve had feeling for you for sometime. Longer than I expected.”

He loads both duffle bags into the car. Just like a gentleman, Aaron holds your door open and closes it behind you. You’re tempted to try to hold his hand, but you let him focus on the road instead.

“Then I suppose I should be honest as well. This case might have been eyeopener, but if you talk to Rossi, I’ve been trying to avoid my feelings for. I just didn’t want it to affect you at work.”

You think back and try to remember if Aaron had shown any signs of liking you. Sure there had been times you had noticed him watching you, or the times he’d stand closer to you than other people would. They were all just subtle signs that as a profiler you should’ve noticed.

By the time you’ve connected all the dots, you’re in front of his place. Aaron lets you in, and sets about setting things down. This includes all the of the stuff you both have to wear as agents and your bags. Your grateful as he takes yours and sets them off to the side as well.

The two of you settle into the couch and curl up together as the TV plays some mindless show. You can’t focus on the TV with the sound of Aaron’s heartbeat in your ear. Not to mention the gentle rubbing of his hand on your arm. It’s hard to focus on anything but him.

The exhaustion hits you, and you find yourself dozing off. Aaron guides you off the couch and lets you fall into his bed. The last thing you process before you pass out is Aaron pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotch

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chronic-ghost · 10 months

Text

blood makes noise

rating: E for explicit! 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 2386

summary: you are being very nice to your vampire boyfriend on your day off, so you are rightfully annoyed when ted interrupts your time together.

warnings: cockwarming, light dom/sub, blow jobs, semi-public sex, mentions of blood, no use of y/n, no beta we die like the marketing department

a/n: this is entirely @ravensmadreads 's fault. She did this. Title comes from the Suzanne Vega's song of the same name.

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Masterlist

“Baby girl, wake up.”

A soft thumb strokes the arch of your cheek and your eyes flutter open, your head turning on his thigh. Your hips are just beginning to ache from the position and you adjust on your knees.

“Gently, baby, gently, that’s right.”

You sigh, your jaw going loose again, the smell of his heat, his cologne almost lulling you back to sleep. Max grins down at you from above on his leather chair, your head in his lap. “You were drooling.”

You make a sound of protest, lifting your head up from the wet spot on his dress pants, but he chuckles and wipes the bottom of your lip with his thumb.

“That’s alright. I like it when you drool around my cock.” More awake now, you suck once and he swallows, that smirk faltering for a moment. “But I slipped out a bit. Open up now, baby.”

You nod, jaw easing open, tension releasing from the back of your throat, and his hips thrust forward just an inch more. Max groans, eyes fluttering. Your hand on his other knee tightens. “Mhmm, that’s good. You’re so good. Just a bit longer. It’s almost noon and we’ll go home after that, alright?”

You nod slowly staring up at him from under your eyelashes, with your jaw as slack as it can go with the weight of his cock pulling your mouth open. The edges of your mouth had cracked, lips dry from the open air. With concern, Max gently turns your head up to see the small cuts better, careful to not move your jaw too much.

“We’ll get that fixed too,” he tsks. “I can’t believe you agreed to do this on your morning off.”

You hum with contentment – you had actually been the one to suggest this weeks ago – and press your tongue up against the length of his cock. Max huffs and the hand on your jaw moves to the back of your head. He had specifically requested you pull back your hair for this and he threads his fingers in the space between your hair tie and the back of your head.

“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you.” Gently, his fingers push you forward, his other hand on your shoulder. You hollow your cheeks out, ready to take even more of him. Max is nothing if not a workaholic and you lived for the moments when you got his undivided attention, when he was willing to blow off hours at a time just to eat you out. And he praised you the whole time he did it. “You’re such a good cockwarmer, baby, best I’ve ever had. I –,”

There comes a sharp rap on the other side of the desk, against Max’s office’s doorframe, and you freeze. Max’s fingers tighten on your shoulder, nails scraping your scalp.

“Howdy there, bud, you got a second to chat?”

It’s Ted, but it’s Max’s fault for leaving the goddamn door open for anyone to waltz in. And anyone did. You huff in annoyance up at Max who briefly glances down at you before sitting back in his seat. Had it been another employee (Evan), Max wouldn’t have hesitated to tell him to fuck off. But, unfortunately, there is a hierarchy.

Max’s shoulder jerks as he adjusts his tie, trying to wipe that blissed out look on his face. He sits up in his seat, pulling out of your mouth just slightly. But no, this is his fault. You dip your head to fill up your mouth, easing farther between his legs, even closer than where you were before. This close you can smell the musk of his groin, your throat tickling, and you muffle a moan by breathing slowly out of your nose. Max’s cock twitches.

“Ahh– sure, Ted, sure. But uh, lunch time is, ah, coming soon, so–,”

You flatten your tongue and lick as much of his velvet skin as you can reach without moving your head.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it! Just as long as you don’t turn me into lunch!” Ted laughs at his own terrible joke. Max literally says: “Ha, ha.”

“But, uh, before we get into it, would you mind closing the door?”

“Sure thing, buckaroo.”

You hear Ted’s big feet clomp back over and immediately Max’s hand latches onto the peak of your ponytail, pulling you back off him. He stares down at you with almost frantic eyes.

Stop it, he mouths at you. Wait.

But he’s grabbed your hair tie and you drop open your mouth, eyes never leaving his, letting your tongue flop out past your bottom lip. You tilt your head down, down towards his cock weeping precum, and pry open your mouth as wide as it will go. Max’s eyes go dark. His grip loosens. That’s all the confirmation you need.

You know he’s already sensitive after having his cock in your mouth all morning, so you only lick it gently, smearing his precum over your tongue. Max shudders, his hand easing up to the crown of your head. Just waiting, sitting. Ready to pull at a moment’s notice.

“Everything okey dokey there?”

On the other side of the desk, you hear the chair squeak and Ted’s ratty loafers come into view under the gap. Your superior’s feet are inches from your own. You adjust as quietly as you can, sitting your knees more firmly under you and you rub your hands on the inside of Max’s knees.

“Yep. Okey dokey,” Max grits out. “Hunger pains.”

“Well, I’ll make this quick . . .” Which is physically impossible for Ted. He’s the kind of guy who wraps up a fifteen minute rant with “so, long story, short.”

For once, you weren’t bothered by this.

As Ted bathers on, you inch Max’s cock deeper into your mouth, your precum-soaked tongue flexing against the bottom like a heartbeat. Over the hours, his cock had gone half-soft between your cheeks, but now it flushes hard. You feel it swell and lengthen the further you take him. You reach his pelvis again, and opening your lips, you inhale. His short hairs fluttered. And then you breathe out, hot and humid. Above you, Max hides a moan by acting like he’s cracking his jaw. He tugs on your hair, not a warning, but an encouragement. Keep going.

Max got off on this as much as you did.

The freak he is, with this suggestion, you knew you’d tease the exhibitionist in him who got painfully hard at the idea of voyeurism. Semi-public sex was like catnip to him. And watching him squirm made you drip.

You draw your hands from his knees, towards his inner thighs, as you drag your tongue against him as you tease him on the way out. All the way out. You come off with a quiet pop, that Max covers with a cough. You go back down, giving his tip the attention it deserves with a wet, slick swirl – Max’s nostrils flare, you were right he is extra sensitive – and you mold your mouth around him again, hollowing out your cheeks as you began to dip up and down, up and down. Back and forth. Back and forth.

If vampires could sweat, Max would be drenched. His thighs tense beneath your hands as you blow him, that familiar spark settling at the crux of your legs. His lips are pulled between his mouth, frowning behind his fist, nodding, as though considering whatever Ted was rambling on about. You take him to the back of your throat and swallow.

His whole body tenses, a mix between a groan and a gasp flying out of his throat, hips jutting forward and he hits the back of your throat again unintentionally. Your eyes water but god you want to moan, so you dig your nails into his thighs to let him know.

“You alright there, chief?” Ted asks behind you.

“Mhmm hmm.” You’re surprised Ted doesn’t say anything about his white-knuckled fist over his mouth. The hand on the top of your head pulls your hair and your scalp tingles pleasantly.

You rub your thighs together. Now you were teasing yourself. He throbs in your mouth and you eagerly lap up the precum dribbling onto your tongue. You grind the heel of your hand against your clit, desperate to lower the heat humming between your legs. You need him to know that it’s time to wrap things up.

His cock red and straining in front of you, you lick your palm and, with a smear of precum threading through your fingertips, you press your thumb up against the vein on the underside of his cock. You suck his tip.

His fist slams down on the table, cutting Ted off mid-ramble.

“Ted,” Max rasps out. He clears his throat. “Ted, I love this idea. Definitely a direction to take next quarter. But I’m on a s-schedule here and I’ve got meetings a-after lunch, so if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

“Sure, sure, Max! Glad to hear we’re in agreement! We’ll talk later.”

“Sounds great.” He sounds wrecked. Ted’s feet disappear from the gap under the desk and he lumbers off. You pout up at Max, cheek on his thigh and you jerk him faster. Max’s jaw is cracking. He’s shallowly trusting against your hand, his fingers a knotted fist in your hair, and he hasn’t looked down at you in five minutes.

“Just s-shut the door on your way out,” Max groans – he can’t help it.

The second the door sniks shut, Max’s seat jerks back, his wet cock slipping from your grasp, and his hand pinches your cheeks.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his irises pitch black. You open as wide as you can go, tongue cupping forward to receive whatever he’s going to give you. With his other hand, he slaps the tip of his cock against your tongue. “Lick it.”

You do and his entire body quakes, a low grunt punching through his chest. You don’t dare move as his hand furiously strokes himself. The ache in your clit is almost painful and you whine, loudly.

“Cocksleeve wants to tease me, huh? Wants to make me lose it in front of my boss?” His hips buck wildly, his tip driving up and down your tongue. Your heartbeat is uncontrollable. You actually drool watching him fuck his fist and you spread your legs, just a bit, but enough. You know he can smell you. His face is flushed, only slightly less red than his cock. He growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “Cocksleeve gets off on this, doesn’t she? The second we get home, I’m gonna fuck your brains out. You’re gonna lose your fucking mind.”

You whine, from the ache and anticipation.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth now. I want you to swallow all of it. Take all of it.”

You’re halfway nodding when his hips thrust his cock into your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat. You swear he bumps the back and comes directly down your throat and you gag, but you take it. Tears streaming out of the corner of your eyes, your torso between his thighs, you swallow and swallow and watch as Max goes boneless, squeezing the last of his spend, before slumping back in his chair and out of your mouth.

There’s a gummy string of spit and cum from your lips as he pulls away. He’s gasping out of reflex, not a real need to breathe.

“J-Jesus Christ.” He closes his eyes,the sight of your mouth so thoroughly fucked making him twitch painfully, and moves his chair back to give yoau room to climb out. You wipe your mouth on his thigh and go to move but you realize your feet have gone numb.

It’s a sight, to watch him lose himself entirely, so that he reverts to his unconscious human impulses. To watch him devolve to his most basic primal state.

“Ma-a-ax–,” the back of your throat is gooey and you struggle with his name. He rubs his chest with his knuckles before leaning forward and helping you up. Your knees almost immediately give out and you stumble into his lap. He chuckles as he pulls you in tighter, still breathless, and buries his face in the curve of your shoulder.

“Fuck, I thought I was gonna come right in front of him.” His breath is warm, humid. It makes your already sensitive skin tingle. You know your orgasm wasn’t going to be easily earned – you were teasing after all – but you knew it was going to be good. You card through his hair, the ends near his scalp damp.

“I kind of wanted you to,” you hum softly. “Would make your upcoming performance review very interesting.”

Something red catches your eye over his shoulder. “Max, your hand–,”

Chuckling, he lets you bring his hand up to your chest for a better look. The meat of his hand just behind his thumb has two small puncture marks, the blood drying. You brush the wound with your thumb as the skin closes before your eyes. His other hand cups the back of your neck in a way that makes your hair stand on end. He snickers as his lips tickle your ear.

“You made me bite myself, baby. Fuckin’ fangs came out when you did that thing with your tongue. Couldn’t help myself.” A shiver slides down from the top of your spine to the heat between your legs.

With precision, you kiss his hand, the blood smears the last trace of any wound.

He leans back and takes your chin between his thumb and the curve of his finger. His eyes are warm, pleased, but already they edge towards that hungry blackness. Vampire stamina really was a wonderful thing.

“No more talking about Ted. Only have half an hour left in my lunch break . . .” He tugs you into his mouth and you inhale, his scent a balm and a crank that ratchets your desire up higher. His thumb pets your jaw as he breaks the kiss. “Besides, I think I made a promise or two there. Something about fucking your brains out.”

His hands are already going up your skirt.

“Sounds like you’re on the clock then, sir.”

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character

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lilyevanstan1325 · 3 months

Text

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 8

I don't think I'll ever get used to a man like Daryl.

And I'm not just talking about his physical appearance, which damn is absolutely fantastic, but about him as a man.

His personality.

His strong, authoritarian nature.

Every gesture, every word that comes from this man exudes a power capable of putting me in awe, sending my brain into a tailspin.

The first lights of this dawn dimly illuminate his profile.

From the moment I reopened my eyes I couldn't take them off his face even for a moment.

His features are relaxed, soft, beautiful.

His strong arms are folded behind his head, a few strands of hair falling lazily across his forehead.

A light and adorable snore comes from his slightly parted lips, his chest rises gently, his breathing slow and steady.

Daryl Dixon sleeping is a sight to be enjoyed.

I sigh dreamily.

Is there anything this man doesn't do excellently?

I curl further into myself, hands clasped under my cheek and knees pressed against my stomach.

I enjoy this little show that I'm sure is something no one else can boast of having seen.

When I wake up the sky was still dark and my head was still resting on his chest, the scent of him in my nostrils was so strong it made my eyes roll.

I gently moved away from his body, ignoring the voice in my head that instead invited me to decrease the space between us even further.

I just had the burning desire to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck.

But I listened to that little part of my self-control.

And now here I am.

Crouched in a corner enjoying this wonder.

Daryl moves slightly.

Instinctively I move away a little more.

I don't want to make him uncomfortable.

Even though he himself invited me to spend the night in his tent, I fear the moment he wakes up.

Why?

I don't even know why.

Maybe I'm just afraid that the night might have led him to change his mind about me.

About us.

I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth.

I still want to kiss him.

But him?

What about him.

His fluctuating mood is the thing that destabilizes me the most, we practically went from not looking at each other to sleeping hugged in the same tent.

Thinking back to yesterday...

God!

Yesterday more than once we got dangerously close to each other and more than once everything's came to nothing.

What if today he doesn't want it anymore?

If I close my eyes I can still feel his hands squeezing my hips, his breath on my heated lips.

His scent.

God.

I would let those strong, calloused hands do anything to me, I would let his thick fingers explore every millimeter of my scorching skin.

I squeeze my legs tightly, the fire burning between them seems to consume me mercilessly.

I whimper lightly, pathetically.

I sink my teeth into the back of my hand to try to quell my own pleasure.

Can I burn with passion for a man I just met?

This isn't me.

I'm not like that.

I have never been so passionate.

So eager.

So needy.

And this new part of me scares me.

It scares me because I shouldn't feel certain emotions, not now that the only goal of our life is to survive.

I return my gaze to the archer's face.

His very relaxed features soothe my agitated soul.

I could stay hours, days, maybe even years, still like this with him sweetly sleeping at my side.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer” his still sleeping voice whispers.

I gasp violently, blushing.

“What?” I squeak, letting my hair slide in front of my face, trying to hide my growing embarrassment, immediately interrupting all my unchaste thoughts.

Daryl turns his face slightly towards me as his body moves into the same position as mine.

His long legs come closer to mine while he bends one arm to support his head while the other hand comes closer to my face and pushes away my unruly locks with his fingertips.

His blue eyes now alert and attentive have a relaxed look.

“Yer starin’.’S creepy”

A veil of slyness is hidden in his drawl.

He's making fun of me.

He's trying to embarrass me.

I torture my lower lip between my teeth, tormenting it.

“Don't do tha’ or ya'll ruin those pretty lips” he murmurs, bringing his thumb to my lip, freeing it from the torture of my teeth.

My breath gets stuck in my throat.

His gesture sends the part of my brain capable of formulating meaningful sentences into total blackout.

Actually my entire brain.

Trying to hide the passion that this man arouses in me, I decide to respond to his provocations with a little audacity.

“I wasn't staring at you.I was admiring you” I wink.

My lips rub gently on his digit still pressed to my lips.

“Stop” he grumbles, blushing too.

Well.

His own game is turning against him.

I smile satisfied, amused by the blush that spreads across his face as I watch him roll onto his back, his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed on the ceiling of the tent.

He seems to tense up, I can feel the tension radiating from his body like waves.

The temptation to touch him is too strong.

Simply too much.

I move closer to him, carefully sliding my hand along his pecs and then back up towards his hair.

Daryl turns his face towards me, his gaze uncertain and his body rigid, almost scared like a cornered animal.

He acts like he expects to get hit every time my hands come near him.

The thought that a human being can be so little related to contact makes me sad.

I have always been used to being hugged, to being loved but for him it is as if all this were unknown.

It's all new to him.

I smile shyly trying to reassure him, trying to make him understand that the one thing I would never do is hurt him.

I push my hand into his hair, digging my fingers into the messy locks and smoothing them down.

A shaky sigh escapes his lips then his body relaxes and his eyes close.

With a little more courage than I had a few minutes ago I approach him, resting my head on his hard bicep.

The archer's muscular arm moves to make room for me so that I can rest my head right next to the junction of his neck and his clavicle.

My hand abandons his hair to move towards his neck, stroking the soft skin behind his ear and finally finding a place on the nape of his neck where my nails scratch his scalp languidly.

Without shame I take a deep breath.

“You smell good” I murmur although more than a murmur the words come out of my lips like a soft moan.

The man's body stiffens again but this time it is different.

His attitude seems to have another nuance.

It's not fear.

It's more like he's trying to tame something bigger.

“Do I make you nervous?” I whisper with my lips pressed to the base of his neck unable to stop.

This sweet torture intoxicates me.

It's unstoppable.

I propping myself up on my elbow and keeping my eyes fixed on Daryl's I move closer to his face leaving a light trail of small kisses along his jawline.

Slowly.

Slowly enough to give him all the time he needed to pull back but that doesn't happen.

Daryl turns his entire body towards me, his arms wrapping around my waist pulling me against his body, his fingers playing on my lower back.

“Watch out, pretty eyes.Ya be careful wha’ ya wish fer”

His low drawl makes me blush.

His voice, still thick with sleep, awakens all my senses.

“You know big boy, I think you have a crush on me”

I wink, curling up against his chest to hide the blush that slowly and inexorably spreads across my face.

A light laugh resonates in his large chest, making the strings of my soul vibrate.

“Ya think?” the archer teases me by letting his long fingers run along my spine.

I nod, nuzzling my head against his neck, my lips finding his chin where they leave a little peck.

“You call me pretty eyes, pretty lips...so…”

He let out a hmph sound.

And I find it adorable.

I giggle as I move away from his body or at least I try because his strong, muscular arms keep me anchored to him.

I barely lift my face in search of his eyes and I find them already staring at me with an intensity that makes me breathless.

Everything is so easy with him.

All so natural.

Where's the catch?

Am I really ready to let him enter in my heart?

But in the end do I still have the time to choose?

Maybe...maybe I'm already in too deep and if he decides to smash my heart into a thousand pieces I'm sure I'd let him do it.

I'm willing to suffer even to have a little piece of him.

“Yer right.Ya pretty little thing, ya look so delicate but I know ya not like tha’.Oh no, ya ain't as sweet and delicate as ya would like to let me believe”

Daryl whispers barely brushing my lips with his.

His attentive gaze is studying me and his words crush my heart.

He is right.

I'm not like that or rather there was a time when I was delicate but it's been a really long time ago.

I had to replace sweetness with strength.

I had to replace the desire for love with the desire to survive.

Now I'm stronger, tougher and more cautious with people.

Distrust has become my dearest friend.

I hid my true nature behind a stronger, stoic demeanor.

A mask that this man seems determined to destroy and I'm ready to let him do it.

“If I let ya in…”

Daryl inhales deeply taking a moment to reflect on his own words before continuing.

“How dangerous are ya, Summer?”

His question makes my blood run cold.

I am not dangerous but my past, my history, is.

And a lot too.

I stammer something incomprehensible under my breath, moving away from his grasp, escaping his now suspicious gaze. Pushing my hands against his chest I give myself a gentle push and roll onto my back to put an end to whatever was about to happen.

I sit there unable to say anything.

Unable to answer his simple question.

Basically he doesn't know anything about me and before getting involved it's right that he wants to know.

But what about me?

Am I willing to answer him?

I already know my answer.

And fuck, this hurts for a million different reasons.

Behind me I can hear the rustling of the sleeping bag under the archer's movements.

His hand rests delicately on my back, making me tremble.

“Tell me who ya are, sunshine”

His short plea is muffled by his lips on my shoulder.

Very cautiously Daryl approaches me, sitting right in front of me, welcoming my figure between his long legs.

The soles of his boots resting firmly on the ground, legs raised and strong arms resting on his knees, his hands lazily caressing my biceps.

Small shivers blossom where his fingers pass.

I feel infinitely small locked in the prison of his body.

I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping them in my arms and risking a glance in his direction.

“Wha’ are ya runnin’ from?”

This is the final blow.

I only have two options.

Lie.

Lying like I learned to do.

Or I could tell him the truth.

Tell him why I'm running away.

What I'm running from.

Who I'm running from.

A sad smile caresses my lips.

Daryl cocks his head slightly to the side, his narrowed gaze busy studying my reaction.

Ready to grasp every little nuance.

I look down at the tips of my boots.

“Do you think it is possible to escape from our past?” I whisper.

The sound of my voice drowned only by the deafening beat of my heart thundering in my ears.

“If I told you I was running away from myself would you believe me, Daryl?”

The man's large hand makes space on my face, finding the perfect fit in the hollow of my neck.

His thumb is a light caress on my cold skin.

His head tilts further in search of my elusive gaze.

“Good luck with this.I've been doin’ this shit my whole damn life”

His words catch my attention like a moth attracted to the light.

His blue gaze, like crystalline water, seems to darken, behind it a veil made of ancient memories and pain.

His past also seems to haunt him.

“It doesn't work, does it?” I smile defeated.

I don't know why this makes me sad, after all I am aware of the fact that it ain't possible to escape from our demons, from our mistakes, yet I always hope that it's possible...

“Listen to me” Daryl whispers, moving a little closer.

Our faces are really so close that I feel like I'm running out of oxygen in my lungs.

“Ya can run, ya can run fer yer whole life.Ya can run fer miles but yer past is here” he murmurs, touching my left temple with the tip of his index finger.

“And here” he whispers, moving his finger towards the center of my chest, pointing it right at my heart.

“Yer past will forever be a part of ya.Yer past is what has shaped the woman ya're today”

His hands gently wrap around my face caressing me as if I were made of crystal.

As if he was afraid he would break me if he held me tighter.

“I dunno anythin’ ’bout tha’ past and I don't give a shit.Do ya know wha’ I see instead?”

His southern accent sweetly envelops my every thought, making my mouth go dry.

My fingers timidly find his wrists, wrapping around them with desperate need.

I cling to him, to his words, as if they were my only hold.

Daryl is the only thing keeping me afloat in this sea of pain right now.

“What do you see?”

Daryl licks his lips.

And then he smiles.

And the world stops.

His face looks infinitely younger.

It's as if all his pain, all my pain, just disappeared.

Nothing exists anymore.

Just me and him.

“I see a strong woman, a woman who defied death to find something else.I see a brave woman, a woman who isn't afraid to take on an asshole like Shane.I see a loyal friend, a friend who puts aside her own shit to help Carol.Summer ya so many beautiful things tha’…God!It pisses me off tha’ ya don't see it”

With my eyes wide open and my heart racing, I don't even realize what happens immediately afterwards.

Daryl's lips crash against mine.

His firm grip on my face is fuel on the fire.

The violence of the contact only fuels the fire inside me.

I get up, kneeling and bringing my body closer to his, our chests pressing against each other with so much vehemence that if it were possible I would melt and merge into him.

My arms wrap around his neck, my hands dive into his soft locks, pulling them hard.

A pathetic moan leaves my lips and Daryl takes the opportunity to slide his velvety tongue between them.

I moan louder in response.

Despite the fervor of the kiss, Daryl's tongue moves shyly as if all of a sudden he isn't so sure anymore.

As if he were embarrassed by his own passion for me.

We both don't know what we're doing and where all this will take us but we can't help but surrender to our needs.

Because yeah, what we feel is need.

A physical need, the need to soothe our pain.

The corrosive need to no longer be alone.

I soften my grip on his hair by sliding my fingers along the back of his neck, giving him sweet caresses with my fingers.

I move my lips delicately caressing his tongue with mine.

Kissing Daryl is like downing a shot of tequila in one gulp.

It burns every sense and goes straight to the brain clouding every thought, every fear, every inhibition.

Kissing Daryl is losing yourself in the oblivion of pleasure.

Suddenly the kiss ends and when my eyelids flicker again, the first thing that strikes me is the man's bewildered look.

He seems intimidated, almost scared.

I tremble as I lower my gaze, suddenly struck by a thousand anxieties.

His strong hands move down my sides and then cling tightly to my feverish skin, his forehead rests delicately against mine.

“It was so bad?” he tries to lighten me up noticing the tension in my body.

I just shake my head with a shy smile.

“Not that bad, big boy” I whisper, seeking his lips again, kissing him once more.

A light and quick kiss.

With my fingers I continue to absentmindedly caress the back of his neck, enjoying this little moment of haze.

Daryl looks thoughtful as his intelligent, attentive eyes probe my face.

“Listen to me, sunshine.If ya don't wan’ to talk ’bout it that's fine but don't give me bullshit.No lies.I hate lies”

Daryl is trusting me and I know I don't want to disappoint him, I can't do it for the simple fact that I would never forgive myself.

I know it's an effort for him too to trust me and I can't betray him.

“There was a man” I whisper, moving my hands towards his chest, holding onto his shirt.

Talking about Negan always hurts.

My cold fingers grip the fabric of his shirt almost angrily as my heart pumps furiously.

“I ran away from him, from his men…I couldn't stay any longer.I don't want to lie to you” I whisper under my breath, looking for his gaze.

The archer looks at me seriously and imperturbably.

“I don't want to lie to you but…but I don't feel like talking about it.Not now.Do you understand that?”

My anxiety is so powerful that I can't hold his gaze for a moment longer so I bury my face in his chest while his arms close around me giving me the comfort I crave.

One day, when I'm ready, I'll talk about him.

I'll tell Daryl everything.

But not now.

Now I need to find myself again.

I just need to find my balance again.

Because the only person I ever lost and need back is me.

Daryl's steady heartbeat helps me regain some self-control.

His silence gives me time to compose myself.

We remain still in our embrace until he pulls away just enough to find my eyes again.

“Did he hurt ya?”

His simple question hides an anger so visceral it scares me.

Even though he has always been sweet and delicate with me, Daryl is a strong, feral man and I am sure that anyone could only tremble in terror if they faced a man like him.

In response I simply shake my head.

Negan never physically hurt me but the pain he inflicted on my soul and heart was pure torture.

That man destroyed my heart and my soul and if he had also inflicted physical pain on me I would have almost welcomed it with open arms to no longer feel that pain inside me.

Daryl inhales deeply.

“Ya safe now and will be as long as I have the strength to protect ya.I will never let him get close to ya.Never again” he whispers.

My heart flutters at his promise.

And then, before I could even think he kiss me again.

This time with more confidence, with more awareness.

He kiss me so hard that I might consider the idea that my lips might become bruised.

And honestly I'm not complaining one bit.

The feeling of his lips on mine makes me arch my back in ecstasy.

I let out a sigh, which I didn't mean to sound so much like a moan, but the archer's lips curl up against my lips.

He seems satisfied and he leans back to give me another smile.

I return a smile resignedly, aware of not being able to control the reactions of my own body in his presence.

Not that he seems to be complaining about it.

“Are you mad at me?”

The archer tilts his head slightly to the side, shocked by my question.

“Wha’?Why should I be mad at ya?”

His tone seems almost amused.

I shrug.

“I do not know.Because I don't want to talk about…”

Daryl cuts me off immediately by crashing his lips against mine, pressing them so hard that I bend backwards until my back hits the hard ground.

I watch him as he leans towards me, placing his hands on the sides of my head.

“Ya don't even have to think ’bout it, sunshine.Ya talk when ya ready and if ya never be ready it'll be fine anyway, alrigh’?”

I nod, smiling and pinching my bottom lip between my teeth.

My hands grab the scruff of his shirt pulling him towards my lips but before I can deepen the kiss a voice makes us jump.

“I hope you're not naked because I already have too much trauma.I don't need to see your ass too, pookie”

I can't resist the laughter that forcefully bursts from my lips.

Carol enters the tent with a hand covering her eyes and a toothy smile.

Daryl huffs, letting his head fall forward.

Still shaking from laughter, I press my hands on the man's chest, pushing him away from me and sitting back down.

“C'mon Carol.Don't worry, we're already done” I smile, pushing my foot towards her boot.

The archer lies down on the sleeping bag, rolling onto his back and then sitting up.

“So…pookie?Really?” I ask amused laughing again followed by Carol’s laughter and another adorable snort from the man in question.

“Stop.Both of you” Daryl grumbles, focusing his icy gaze on both of us.

At first glance he might seem angry but the tips of his ears deliciously red make me understand that he is just terribly embarrassed.

Carol laughs as she sits next to me.

“Why?Doesn't it suit him?” the woman teases him, eyeing the man on the verge of embarrassment.

“Stop” he grumbles again, crossing his arms over his chest and avoiding our amused looks.

“Oh Carol, don't be mean” I scold her affectionately, putting my arm around her shoulders.

“Do you need something?” I ask her.

I can't stop smiling.

And it hits me.

I haven't felt so relaxed, so comfortable in a long time.

These people I just met managed to bring some calm back to my wounded heart.

I will never be able to thank them enough, not even if I lived a thousand more lives.

Subconsciously these people did more than they were supposed to do.

“Yeah.Breakfast is ready.You need to eat.Both of you need it”

My stomach growls loudly at her words.

I forgot the last time I ate.

Between Shane's mess, Sophia's search and the accident I lost track of time and my needs.

“You almost died, both of you.Now you have the duty to get back on your feet.Let's go” continues the woman, standing up and leaving the tent.

“I'll give you five minutes.Hurry up!” she yells before walking away.

I smile again shaking my head.

I have to get used to feelings like kindness and receiving care and attention from others again.

When I look for Daryl I find him staring at me.

His eyes, blue as the ocean, shine with a light I have never seen in them.

His lips are curved in a small smile.

“What's up?” I ask, embarrassed by his insistent gaze.

The archer shrugs.

“Uhu nothin’.Yer really pretty when ya smile.Ya should do this more often”

His half-hearted compliment awakens a sweet warmth in the center of my chest.

This grumpy and unfriendly man is truly adorable.

I scoop near him pressing a light peck on his beautiful lips.

“The same goes for you.You're really beautiful when you smile, pookie” I murmur bringing my lips to his again.

Daryl huffs but doesn't reject the kiss.

I smile against his lips.

“I think it suits you.On the outside you're grumpy like a bear but on the inside you're really soft” I tease him and without giving him time to reply I quickly kiss him again and leave the tent and head towards the camp where everyone else is.

The first to notice me is Shane.

The man stands slightly apart from the others.

He glances at me briefly and then returns his attention to the plate in his hands.

Strangely, his gaze wasn't full of hate as it often is when it's directed at me.

Maybe, since I got shot less than 48 hours ago, he decided to cut me some slack.

Good.

Carol smiles at me and tilts her head towards a chair.

I sit down smiling at the rest of the people.

Rick, Lori and Carl are sitting together enjoying their breakfast.

As soon as Carl sees me he gives me a shy smile which I return with a wink, the boy laughs in amusement attracting his mother's attention.

Lori nods her head a little.

I think she still feels embarrassed about what she asked me to do but the fact that she finally talked about it with her husband seems to have made her relax a bit.

Rick watches her, his crystal clear eyes are an ocean of fear and confusion.

At the moment Lori seems to be fine and mentally I breathe a sigh of relief.

I feel so fucking guilty for getting her those damn pills.

I really hope that the little one is okay.

T-Dog is helping Carol by the fire.

It looks like they are cooking eggs.

Great.

My stomach rumbles again as their delicious scent reaches my nostrils making my mouth salivate.

Andrea is sitting in front of me busy smoothing the large blade of a hunting knife, her sister Amy, sitting next to her, is also observing her carefully, waiting to receive her food ration.

Glenn and Dale are next to each other and both exchange weird looks.

Glenn, unlike other days, seems particularly tense.

Nervous I dare say.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, casting a fleeting glance towards the porch of the Green house from where Maggie is watching us.

Her expression is too serious.

Maybe the two lovebirds had some spats.

Who knows.

My thoughts are interrupted by heavy footsteps.

And I don't need to turn around to understand who they belong to.

Daryl's scent reaches me before his hand gently rests on my shoulder.

“Take it.It's cold today” the man mutters, handing me a blue checked flannel shirt.

One of his shirts.

My heart jumps into my throat and begins to beat in a completely irregular way.

I actually didn't pay much attention to the weather when I left the archer's tent.

Today the gray sky is covered with large clouds and a light wind makes me shiver.

My t-shirt is certainly not appropriate.

Daryl sits down next to me, giving me a brief smile.

I blush as I slip my arms into his shirt, a shirt that is full of his intoxicating scent.

“Oh wow!This shirt has sleeves.I didn't think you had one" I whisper teasing him and getting an adorable amused snort from him in response.

“Thanks” I whisper with my cheeks still burning, resting my head on his shoulder for a moment.

“’S nothin’ ” he shrugs giving me a gentle shove with his elbow.

Our little exchange of effusions ends when Glenn clears his throat a couple of times.

I observe him carefully while he walks back and forth with an agitated pace.

What happens?

It's not like him to behave like this.

Glenn is always sunny, always with that sweet smile on his face, but this morning he is different.

His eyes are surrounded by the hint of dark circles as if he's had little sleep and his lips are curled into a serious line.

Something's wrong, I can feel it under my skin.

“Um, guys” he mutters, nervously running a hand over his chin.

My eyes immediately search Daryl's.

The man returns my gaze with his equally worried look.

He too realized that there is something strange in the delivery boy's attitude.

We both turn our fullest attention to him.

“So…theburnisfullofwalkers” he snorts in one breath.

Immediately ten heads snap towards the barn.

Ten pairs of wide, disbelieving eyes turn their attention back to Glenn.

I feel panic gripping my guts as in a completely involuntary gesture my hand goes to squeeze the forearm of the man next to me.

My eyes full of terror are reflected in the archer's incredulous ones.

His hand gently squeezes my fingers which are unconsciously squeezing his arm.

Unceremoniously Rick and Shane are the first to quickly walk towards the barn.

Everyone else follows them.

Everyone except me.

I feel as if my legs are paralyzed, a general tremor radiates along my limbs.

“C'mom sunshine, everythin’ will be fine” Daryl urges me.

I turn towards his voice and find him standing next to me, my hand still tight on his arm.

My nails are digging little half-moons shapes into his tanned skin.

As soon as I realize this I immediately withdraw my hand, bringing it to my lap and muttering an apology under my breath, my eyes lowered to my knees.

Daryl kneels, bringing his face level with mine, his hands are a delicate caress on my thighs.

From the knee they slowly move up along them and then repeat the same reassuring movement over and over again.

“Hey!Will everythin’ be good, alrigh’?C'mere” he whispers, bringing his face close to mine and kissing me lightly on the lips.

I feel the blush arise from my neck to the tips of my ears.

I look around nervously and then return my attention to the man kneeling in front of me.

“Daryl!Someone might see us!” I squeak in panic.

Daryl huffs in response, standing up and holding out his hand.

I look at his large, calloused fingers and with a trembling hand I accept his hold.

“I don't give a damn ’bout others.Do ya care?” he asks without looking me in the eyes.

Our fingers intertwine and together we walk towards the barn from where we can already hear the agitated voices of the others carried by the wind.

Before we can reach the others I stop, yanking the archer's hand who, looking at me furtively, stops.

“I don't care about others either” I smile shyly.

And it's the truth.

I could never be ashamed of him.

His gesture definitely took me by surprise, I must admit, and for a moment I feared what others might think.

My arrival has already caused several problems and tribulations in the group and I wouldn't want my closeness with the handsome archer to be a further reason for arguments between him and Shane.

“Good” Daryl grunts and I could swear I saw him blush as we start walking again with a determined pace.

I beam at his back while I can't take my eyes off our fingers locked together.

Rick and Shane are facing each other while the latter points a finger at his friend's chest.

“You cannot tell me you're all right with this” Shane hisses out.

Rick's gaze hardens.

“No, I'm not, but we're guests here.This isn't our land" replies the officer.

The sharp tone of his voice seems to make Shane even more angry.

The man takes a few steps away, bringing his hand to his face and rubbing it nervously.

“Oh God.This is our lives, man” he shouts.

From the barn, increasingly insistent moans and growls follow one another.

“Lower your voice” I invite them, pressing me close to Daryl.

The hotter things get, the more the walkers seem to get agitated.

Shane gives me a mean glare but, perhaps seeing me clinging to Daryl's arm, he decides not to say anything to me and simply shakes his head.

I exchange a quick glance with Glenn.

Anxiety seems to be eating him up.

Andrea lovingly wraps her arm around her sister's shoulders, as if she wanted to protect her from what's in that damned barn.

“We can't just sweep this under the rug” the woman vehemently explains her opinion, immediately earning a hint of approval from Shane who immediately after her adds “It ain't right.Not remotely”

Then he starts walking back and forth again.

His body radiates nervousness from every pore, making me more and more nervous.

Next to me Carl squirmed slightly, hiding behind his mother.

Lori grabs her boy's hand and tries to silently comfort him.

“We either got to go in there, we got to do things right, or we just got to go.Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time” Shane says confidently but his words clash with the determined frown of his best friend.

Shit.

Would they really want to leave this place?

What if the group decided to head towards Washington?

I can't even think about it...

I squeeze the archer's fingers tighter and his gaze immediately falls on me.

I think he sees the panic all over my face because, reciprocating my grip around my trembling fingers, he whispers “Don't worry.We found a way”

I nod, chewing the inside of my cheeks until I taste the coppery taste of my blood.

What a fucked up situation!

Why would Hersel keep all these walkers imprisoned?

Does he not realize the risk he places his own daughters in?

“We can't go” Rick barks, gesturing nervously.

Of course he can't.

His wife is pregnant and leaves like this blindly without a real and safe destination is unthinkable.

“Why Rick?Why?” Shane shouts with his eyes almost bulging.

But before anyone can respond Carol advances with a determined step alongside Rick and facing Shane.

“Because my daughter is still out there”

Her eyes are full of tears.

How could we ever leave this place without first finding Sophia?

It is an absolutely impossible option to take into consideration.

Unthinkable.

Shane scoffs by burying his face in his hands.

His reaction activates every cell in my body.

I am fully aware that if Shane says the wrong words I will lose my mind.

“Okay, okay” Shane murmurs, moving closer to Carol.

In a completely automatic gesture I let go of Daryl's hand to move closer to Carol.

“Okay” the man sighs “Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility”

“Fuck you Shane!We're not leaving Sophia behind.We're so close” I snap, pressing my hands forcefully on his hard chest, making him move back just a few steps.

Daryl approaches immediately trying to calm things down but now it's open war between me and that piece of shit of Shane.

I put my hands on my hips, daring him to respond to my words.

He snorts in response, rolling his eyes.

“Daryl and I found his doll two days ago”

The man chuckles sarcastically at my words.

“You found her doll.That's what you did.You found a damn doll.You almost died for a fucking doll.Do you understand, kid?” he yells a few inches from my face sending shivers down my spine.

I feel myself being grabbed violently by the arm and before I can understand what's happening Daryl comes dangerously close, screaming too.

“You don't know wha’ the hell ya talking ’bout”

“Man, look, I'm just saying what needs to be said here” retorts Shane.

I feel like my head is exploding so I decide to take a few steps away, leaving the shouting and arguing behind me.

I'm too nervous and too angry that I really could have hit that idiot if I had stayed there a little longer.

I approach the barn door, peering between the boards.

Inside it, dozens of walkers walk aimlessly, grunting and bumping into each other without any logic.

Something brushes against my shoulder making me jump startling in fear.

When I turn around I have Glenn's tired and heartbroken face in front of me.

“Shit dude.You scare the shit out of me” I scold him with my nerves on edge.

“Sorry” he apologizes, lowering his gaze and digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“It seems like lately whatever I do doesn't work out right”

My friend's words make my heart ache.

“Hey” I call him hugging him.

“It's not your fault.We are all nervous.Sorry”

Glenn returns the hug with much more force than usual, burying his face in my hair.

“I had to say it.Even though I love Maggie, you are my family.I couldn't stay silent.You understand me, don't you?” he murmurs in my ear, continuing to hold me in his arms.

Poor Glenn.

I'm sorry to see him so torn between his love for Maggie and his loyalty to all of us.

“You did what you thought was right.Don't blame yourself.Maggie is a smart woman, she will understand” I try to console him.

Suddenly all hell breaks loose behind us.

I abruptly break the hug in time to see Daryl lunge at Shane.

And it's chaos.

The two are pulled back by several hands, each trying to prevent the two men from being able to hit each other.

Without thinking twice I run into the fray, standing right in front of the archer's body, catching Shane's fist right in my face.

I stagger a few steps, feeling a heat dripping from above my eye.

Grunting, while the screams get louder and more excited around me, I put a hand to my face.

A hand that is immediately tinged with a bright crimson shade.

Fuck!

I stagger a few steps, tripping over my own feet and ending up with my ass on the ground.

“Shit” I cough as my back hits the hard ground.

Immediately afterwards some hands press against my forehead but when I try to rebel a voice immediately silences me.

“It's me.Stay still”

T-Dog's friendly voice reaches my confused brain.

The man takes a rag out of his pants pocket and presses it right to my left eyebrow.

I hiss as the fabric touches my broken skin.

"Don't worry.It's the eyebrow, it's normal for it to bleed a lot.A couple of stitches and you'll be as good as new” he grunts as he takes my weight on himself, passing my arm over his shoulders and helping me stand up.

And even though my vision is blurry and I'm currently seeing double I can paint the picture of the situation in front of me.

Rick's arms are wrapped around Daryl's torso as Glenn tries to help calm him down.

Lori protects her little boy with her body, an action that Andrea is also carrying out towards her little sister.

Shane's chest rises and falls rapidly, his body shaking with uncontainable anger.

Carol and Dale try to bring sanity back to the group but they're all too busy yelling at each other to realize it.

“Would you take me to Hersel?” I ask, receiving a nod from T-Dog in response.

I'm too tired and too confused right now to deal with them.

With limping steps we finally manage to reach the porch of the large white house.

A thoughtful Maggie is sitting on the steps and as soon as she notices us and the state of my face she reaches us with a couple of quick strides.

Without saying a word she takes us inside going to call her father.

It's just Hersel and I in the big bedroom.

The man began to sew up my wound without asking any questions.

I think they heard the screams all the way inside the house and Hersel is a smart man.

He knows that we know.

I hiss a little every time the needle digs into my skin.

I wouldn't have minded a little anesthetic.

Or a glass of scotch.

“You don't have anything to tell me?”

His question doesn't surprise me.

The calmness with which he asked it to me makes me understand that it is not the first time that he has addressed this discussion with someone.

And thinking about the reactions of each of us to the discovery of what the barn contains, I can say with absolute certainty that the only one who knew besides Glenn was Dale.

And I'm also pretty sure that the latter has already spoken to the kind vet to ask him for explanations.

I shrug, trying to appear as relaxed and indifferent as possible.

“I have nothing to tell you.This is your house so your rules.The thing I don't understand is how a man of your intelligence doesn't understand the danger of this crazy choice"

Hersel continues his work without answering me.

His blue eyes are fixed on his hands as he expertly sews me up.

I sigh.

Rick is right.

This place doesn't belong to us but we can't leave either.

Not without Sophia.

Not with Lori in this condition.

“Well since you have nothing to say I'll do the talking” I step forward.

Hersel doesn't look me in the eye but nods slightly giving me permission to express my opinion.

“What you're doing is dangerous Hersel.Those things...having them so close won't lead to anything good”

“Those things" the vet promptly replies “are human beings.They're just sick people”

My face contorts into a grimace of confusion.

“Hersel…you don't see things clearly”

It's absurd.

I swear this is the last thing I ever expected to come out of his mouth.

The man applies gauze to my wound and then turns his back on me to rinse his hands in a small basin of water.

“I need you and your group gone by the end of the week”

His words hit me like a slap, making me flounder in confusion.

I stand up behind him, hug my midsection with my arms to try to hold together all the pieces that threaten to fall apart at the idea of finding myself on the road again.

Back in that hell.

“You and I have our differences with the way we look at the walkers.Those…those people, they may be dead, they may be alive, but those people” I say vehemently, pointing with my hand to the field outside the window “Us…us, we are alive right now, right here, right in front of you.You sand us out there and that could change”

Hersel leaves the room without answering me but I can't let him so I follow him.

The man reaches the kitchen, positioning himself in front of the sink, his hands tightly grasping the edge of it.

“I've given you safe harbor.My conscience is clear” he says.

I stand next to the man looking for his gaze.

Meanwhile Rick appears on the doorstep.

I was sure he would come but now I can't let him interrupt us so I stop him with a hard gesture of my hand.

Rick doesn't say a word, remaining motionless on the doorstep, his eyes tired and his pale face.

“This farm…this farm is special” I continue looking for the vet's gaze.

“You've been shielded from what's been going on out there.Maggie tells me that you saw everything happen on the news.Well, it's been a long time since the cameras stopped rolling”

Hersel continues to keep his gaze down trying to move away from me again.

My hand gripping his arm tightly prevents him from doing so.

“Hersel what the world is out there isn't what you saw on TV.Is it much much worse, and it changes you.I know it.What I saw out there, the people I met out there…God!You can't imagine how lucky you are to have met a man like Rick and his people.If you had met my group…just know that you would have wished for death Hersel”

Both men's eyes snap in my direction.

The weight of my words crushes me.

I knew the truth would come out but I didn't imagine that their looks would hurt me so much.

I look at Rick with a million apologies etched in my eyes.

He trusted me and I should have told him the truth first.

But now it's too late.

Now my goal is to convince Hersel to let the group stay and if I have to leave I will be ready to face the weight of the consequences of my choices.

“Please do not…do not send us out of there again” I murmur in a faint voice, now defeated, returning my attention to the only man who currently has the power to choose which direction our lives will take.

Hersel seems closed in his silence, convinced of his decisions.

So with shoulders hunched and head down I walk towards Rick.

When I'm about to walk past him and leave him alone with Hersel, he gently grabs my hand and squeezes it in his, forcing me to stop.

In his gesture there is no anger but a tacit thanks for having exposed myself on the behalf of everyone.

My eyes, dilated with amazement, look for the officer's but he isn't paying me the slightest attention.

He and Hersel are looking at each other, eye to eye, so intensely that I almost believe they are communicating telepathically.

“My wife's pregnant”

Rick suddenly begins, earning a look of pure amazement from the man in front of us.

“That's either a gift here or a death sentence out there.If we were to stay, we could help you with the work, with securing this place.We can survive together”

Rick's words make me shiver.

We can survive.

We can really do it.

This baby will be a blessing I'm sure.

Now everything is in Hersel's hands.

He will decide our fate.

“You can't stay” was his only response.

Rick stiffens and seems ready to retort forcefully, I can feel it in the way his fingers tighten around mine but before he can open his mouth I tug on his arm telling him to be quiet.

“Just think about it, okay?” I ask him politely, dragging Rick away with me out of the kitchen and then out of the house.

As soon as we go out onto the porch I am literally overwhelmed by Daryl's arms.

His arms wrap around my neck, pressing my head against his rocky chest.

The stitches on my eyebrow pull uncomfortably.

I hiss, immediately attracting the attention of the man who lets me go but immediately brings his hands to the side of my face, cupping it gently.

“Ya good?” he asks, studying my wound as if he could understand its extent from under the white bandage.

I nod, smiling faintly.

The argument with Hersel drained every ounce of energy I had.

Rick clears his throat, placing his hands on his hips.

His gaze flies towards the barn, towards Shane.

“I'm going to talk to him”

His worried look doesn't escape that of the archer who goes back and forth between Rick and me.

Our state of mind is certainly perceivable even from miles away.

Daryl lets go of my face and sits on the porch steps, clapping a hand next to him, a clear invitation to take the seat next to him.

I sit down, getting as close as possible and the man, understands my intentions, my needs, lift his arm and welcomes me into his gentle embrace.

“Wha’ happened in there?” he asks.

My gaze goes towards the barn, towards the two men who are arguing heatedly.

I'm more than convinced that Shane won't take Hersel's decision well.

I return my gaze to the archer's worried one.

I look down at my hands clasped in my lap, a lump in my throat preventing me from breathing.

What will we do if we really have to abandon this place?

“Hey sunshine”

“Hersel wants us to leave” I whisper trembling.

Daryl tightens his grip around my shoulders, pressing his lips to my temple.

“How will we do?” I whimper, sniffling.

A thousand fears cloud my heart.

The walkers.

The cold of the imminent winter.

Lori and the baby.

How are we going to survive out there?

I barely made it and I was alone.

How will a large group like ours cope with walkers, starvation and cold?

And then there's Sophia, how will we look for her if we have to leave?

Daryl stands up offering me his hand, which I accept as every time without any hesitation.

I let myself be pulled onto him, letting myself be wrapped in his embrace.

This time the man takes infinite caution not to press against my wounded forehead.

"It'll be fine.As long as we're together everythin’ will be fine”

His sweet words echo in my ear pressed against his welcoming chest.

After a few hours everything around us begins to populate.

The sun is now about to set while, wrapped in Daryl's embrace, all the others gather next to us.

And people seem decidedly calmer.

Glenn and Maggie sit on the steps behind us, smiling lovingly at each other.

I was sure they would clarify.

Glenn and I give each other a brief, knowing look.

Both smiling and above all full of confidence in the future.

Daryl is right.

As long as we all stay together everything will be fine.

Together we are strong.

Andrea joins us flanked by T-Dog.

“Do you know what's happening?” asks the latter.

This last question is followed by Andrea's question about where Rick is.

Carol arrives from the other side of the field, joining us at a brisk walk.

I lift one of my arms, inviting her to come closer and holding her against my side.

“Has anyone seen Rick?He went off with Hersel.We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago” Andrea informs us.

“Rick told me he was going out” Carol replies, frightened.

Is it possible that no one knows where Rick is?

What happened to him and Hersel?

“Damn it.Isn't anybody takin’ this seriously?We got us a damn trail” Daryl gets agitated, freeing himself from our embrace and leaving me with Carol.

Heavy footsteps attract our attention.

Shane approaches quickly, on his shoulders I can recognize the bag full of weapons.

“Oh, here we go” Daryl exclaims reaching him.

I look around with a worried look trying to understand what is happening and only meeting other worried and anxious looks.

“What's all this?” asks the archer as soon as the ex-policeman reaches him.

His haunted gaze sweeps all our faces and then settles on Daryl again.

“You with me, man?” he asks him, pressing a rifle into his hands.

The two men stare at each other intently, warily.

“Do you want to keep your woman safe?” Shane asks, moving his hard gaze to me and then back to the man in front of him.

Daryl's fleeting gaze falls on mine, an indecipherable feeling in his beautiful blue eyes.

I shake my head imperceptibly trying to make him understand how bad this all is but his need to protect me is too strong so looking down with a silent apology he nods in Shane's direction.

“I'm with you, man”

So with a heart full of fear I can't do anything to stop them.

Shane is making a mistake and I can't stop him, especially if I don't even have Daryl's support.

Shane continues to gather support by handing out weapons to anyone who accepts.

Someone perplexed by the speed with which the situation could degenerate tries to respond.

“Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe.But now we know it ain't” Shane speaks with agitation.

Being in charge of these people again seems to fill him with new energy.

He approaches Glenn handing him a rifle.

“How about you, man?Are you going to protect yours?” he asks him.

Glenn exchanges a fleeting glance with Maggie, his gaze full of displeasure but in the end he accepts the weapon that is given to him.

“That’s it” Shane replies, puffing out his chest proudly.

“Can you shoot?”

“Can you stop?” I interrupt him, trying to make him think for once.

I cannot stand still and helplessly witness the destruction of this group.

“Shane please listen to me.I know you don't like me but please try to think about it.If we do this Hersel will make us leave tonight.Please”

The man looks at me seriously, nervously running his hand all over his face, then grabs another rifle and forces it into my hands.

“What about you, huh?Do you really want to show that you care about being part of us?Join us.Protect us”

I don't have time to reply as Carl advances towards Shane.

“We have to stay, Shane”

A breathless Lori comes out from inside the house.

“What is this?” she asks nervously, focusing her dark eyes on the man.

The latter ignores her by answering Carl's statement.

“We ain't going anywhere, okay?Now look, Hersel, he's just gotta understand.Okay?He…well, he's gonna have to.Now we need to find Sophia.Am I right?Huh?”

Shane kneels in front of Carl.

How sleazy is this man?

Using Sophia's name just to gain personal advantage.

I feel the bile rising up my throat.

I slowly move closer to Daryl, searching his eyes.

“We can't Daryl.Please”

The archer doesn't even look at me, his stiff fingers tightened around his rifle.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Lori stand in front of her son.

Sighing resignedly to the archer's indifference, I approach to understand what is happening between Shane and Lori but I don't even have time to take a couple of steps when I hear walkers growling in the distance.

“Oh shit!” I exclaim, trying to make sense of what my eyes are seeing.

Rick and Hersel are dragging two walkers towards the barn with two snare poles, the young Jimmy waves his arms in front of them trying to attract the attention of those two monstrous beings.

Shane launches into a frantic race towards the newly arrived group.

We all start running as fast as we can.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shane shouts beside himself with anger.

Rick grunts with difficulty to hold onto the walker.

“Shane, just back off!” he gasps while Hersel groans indignantly at the sight of the weapons in our possession.

And his words do nothing but add fuel to the fire.

Shane moves as if he were in the grip of pure madness.

“Are you kidding me?You see?You see what they're holding onto”

Around us there is total chaos.

I look for Daryl in the crowd and without thinking twice I approach him looking for contact with his body.

The man in response grabs my wrist and moves me behind him.

His grip is nervous.

Shane and Hersel continue to argue, yelling at each other with escalating anger.

Until the ex-cop stops and pulls a gun from his trouser pocket.

“Hey Hersel, man, let me ask you something.Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?”

He then fires three shots into the walker's chest.

Each shot resonates in my head, making me grip the archer's shirt tighter and tighter, burying my face between his shoulder blades, my body shaking with shivers.

Shane continues to scream as he fires more shots at the walker.

Until finally I hear one last shot and a surreal silence descends around us.

I move away from Daryl's back.

Shane storms toward the barn.

“Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us.Enough.Rick, it ain't like it was before!Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it!I'm talking about fighting right here, right now!”

Now the man is out of control as he spits the words with an uncontrollable fury.

We all watch him helplessly while he grabs an ax and begins to break the lock that separates us from the walkers without stopping even with the repeated screams of everyone else.

For my part, I can't move, Carol next to me has a shocked expression.

My hand lets go my grip on the rifle to wrap around hers trying to give her some courage, the same courage I'm trying to muster for myself with all my might.

The situation has now completely degenerated.

“Shane, man, please don't do that!” Rick shouts, drowned out by the shouts of Lori and Glenn who try in every way to make the man reason but it's all in vain.

Shane grunts with each swing of the ax until the heavy metal lock falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Hersel and Maggie are kneeling in the dust, big tears streaming down their faces.

Patricia and Beth have a mask of terror on their faces.

Daryl and T-Dog raise their weapons in front of them ready to eliminate any threat while Glenn looks petrified, his arms hanging lifelessly at his sides.

Everyone else is simply too stunned to even move a muscle.

Slowly the barn doors open and the walkers begin to emerge from them.

A barrage of bullets hits them and even though the roar of the shots is deafening, the only thing I can hear are the subdued and heartbreaking cries of the Green family.

As I watch the bodies go down I can't help but think that each one was someone important to these poor people.

Dale walks past us with a shocked look and his mouth parted in a grimace of disbelief.

When the last shot rings out in the air, Beth's sobs soar with even more desperation.

Shane turns towards the man who is supposed to be his best friend, the two exchange a silent look full of mutual accusations.

Something has definitely broken between the two men.

The sound of shuffling feet coming from inside the barn captures everyone's attention.

The weapons rise again towards the large wooden doors waiting for the last walker to come out so they can put an end to it all.

After infinite moments a small figure appears.

A little blonde girl, wearing a blue t-shirt with a rainbow on it.

And even though I've never seen her I know who she is.

Without wasting time I forcefully grab the woman's hips, closing my arms in an iron grip around her waist.

Carol's scream is heartbreaking.

“Oh God!Sophia!Sophia…” sobbing Carol as she drops to the dusty ground.

My tear-filled eyes meet the archer's pain-filled ones.

The man drops his weapon on the ground, reaching us with two long strides and kneeling in front of us, he wraps his reassuring arms around both of us.

Unable to be strong enough for Carol I let out a soft cry too overwhelmed by the pain.

“Oh no no, Sophia.Sophia” Carol continues to sob.

I see Rick take a step forward and then another.

And another.

Until he reaches Shane's side.

The former officer puts his hand at his side and takes out his gun from his holster, watching helplessly as the girl advances and growls.

For a moment I can understand Hersel.

Even if the one in front of us is just a soulless monster, in our eyes she will always remain the sweetest Sophia, a sweet innocent soul torn away too soon and too violently from this damned world.

A sob shatters my chest, Daryl's hand immediately finds my face, caressing it with a disarming sweetness.

The click of Rick's gun makes Carol jump, the woman squirms slightly as if she wants to free herself from my grip and that of the archer to run to her little girl.

“Don't look” Daryl whispers in her ear and Carol obediently lowers her gaze, burying her face in his chest.

Horrified, I can't look away from Rick's movements.

I see his arm lift and point the weapon right at Sophia's head.

“Summer?”

Daryl's voice sounds distant, muffled, as if I'm underwater right now.

“Sunshine?Eyes on me”

His sweet command penetrates the bubble of pain in which I was imprisoned.

His head drops, hiding his tormented eyes from me.

And I'm sure he's fighting against his own feelings with all his strength to keep from falling apart, because he feels the visceral need to always show himself strong for the others.

Even though I knew it would happen, the echo of the shot makes me jump violently.

The tears now fall from my eyes without stopping.

“We were so close” I stammer between sobs.

“I know baby.I know” Daryl murmurs in a strangled voice, kissing my forehead and holding me close to him.

God, what are we going to do now?

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daisynik7 · 6 months

Text

Bursting at the Seams

Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~3.3k

cw: switching POVs (2nd and 3rd person), explicit language, kissing, established relationship (yay!)

Summary: You and Mitsuya make your newly blossomed relationship official. To commemorate this special occasion, he invites you to his house for breakfast, where you meet his mother.

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience with this! I really love writing this story, so I’m doing my best to work on this while I continue a few other WIPs. I appreciate every single one of you who have read this so far. I’m excited to show you all how everything will play out! Would love to know what you think and maybe some predictions on what may happen in the future chapters. Thanks so much for reading!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Saturday morning, Mitsuya wakes up with a bright smile on his face, the confession from just hours before still replaying in his head like his favorite scene in a movie. He flexes his hand, fondly remembering how hers fit so seamlessly in his. They were close to a kiss; if they hadn’t been interrupted by her parents, he’s sure it would have happened. While he wants nothing more than to feel how soft her lips are, especially pressed against his, he wonders if this is all happening a little too fast. After all, they aren’t official yet. He ought to ask her to be his girlfriend first before he smooches her, right? Isn’t that what a gentleman does?

And is Takashi Mitsuya, founding member and Second Division captain of the Tokyo Manji gang even capable of being a gentleman? Of being a good boyfriend?

He gradually comes down from his dreamy state to contemplate how best to proceed with this. After breakfast, he calls both Draken and Takemitchy, the only two people he knows that are actually succeeding in the boyfriend category.

“You have a girlfriend now?!” Takemitchy exclaims loudly on the other end. Hina’s in the background, begging him to put it on speaker so she can listen in too.

“No, not yet. I confessed to her last night and she likes me back.” He smiles to himself, recalling the moment once again.

“Holy shit, you actually took my advice,” Draken chuckles. “Good shit, man. So did you two kiss yet or…?”

“Well, we almost did,” he explains. “Her parents came out right as we were about to. But it got me thinking that maybe we should make it official first before we do anything irresponsible.”

Draken barks out a laugh. “You know that you can’t get a girl pregnant just from kissing her, right?”

Before Mitsuya can cuss him out, Takemitchy comments, “No, I totally understand where you’re coming from! When Hina and I started dating, we barely held hands. It took even longer for us to kiss! Waiting for the right time just made it all the more special.”

“Hina, stop holding the gun to his head, we know you’re in the room with us,” Draken teases.

There’s shuffling on their end as she grabs hold of the phone, giggling, “I didn’t even have to tell him to say that! Anyways Mitsuya, I think taking things slow is a wonderful idea!”

“Nah, screw that. You’re a man now, Takashi. And men have needs. As long as she wants it too, I say just go for it.”

“Go for what exactly?” Mitsuya asks, genuinely curious.

“Dude, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Please don’t,” Takemitchy murmurs.

“Nothing gross!” Hina chimes in.

“I’m talking about fu – ”

“Ken Ryuguji!” Emma’s voice rings from the line. “Do not say what I think you’re about to say! Not in front of our child!”

“It can’t even hear yet!”

Clearly now, Emma insists, “Mitsuya, whatever you do, do not listen to Draken. Go with your heart instead of your…well, you know.”

“Says the woman who is currently pregnant because of you-know-what,” Draken mutters.

“This is totally different. We’ve been together for years. Mitsuya’s only known this girl for a month. And unlike you, Ken Ryuguji, Takashi is actually a sweet guy.”

“Hey!”

She ignores him, adding, “You’ve got all the time in the world. Do what you think is right. Everything will work out in the end.”

He thanks all four of them for their input before ending the call, heeding their advice carefully the remainder of the day as he babysits his sisters at home. It’s probably best for him and Hana to discuss what their expectations are going forward. He has no experience in relationships whatsoever, so naturally, he’s apprehensive. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he somehow becomes a rotten boyfriend.

Around dinnertime, he decides to text her, asking if she is free to talk on the phone later tonight, to which she confirms that she is. He takes the next few hours to prepare himself, rehearsing what he’d like to say over and over in his head until he tucks his sisters into bed, retreating into his own bedroom to dial Shimizu’s number.

After two rings, she picks up. “Hello?”

He smiles, happy to hear her voice. “Hi. How are you?”

“Good. And you?”

“Good. Great, actually. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“You’re not. I’m happy you called.”

They exchange pleasantries, recounting each other’s nights before getting to the main matter. His heart skips a beat, getting increasingly nervous, despite how comforting it is to hear her speak so casually with him. When the right opportunity arrives, he clears his throat, remembering what he practiced from earlier. “I just want to make sure that we do this right, you know? I’ve never had a girlfriend, so I really don’t know what to do when it comes to things like this. But I want to do my best to be a good boyfriend to you.”

Her voice is gentle and sweet as she replies, “I feel the same way. I’ve never had a boyfriend either. I don’t know how good of a girlfriend I can be. But I’ll do my best too to be good to you. We’ll learn together. ”

He grins, touched by her words. “Together. I like that.” He swallows his emotions to continue. “I’m sure your parents won’t approve of you dating a gang member. But you’ll always be safe with me. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Toman. I can promise you that.”

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re in Toman. I already feel safe with you, so I’m not concerned about that at all.”

Surprised, he says, “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms with confidence. “I want you to feel safe with me too. I’ll do everything I can to protect you. I mean, I can’t fight. But I promise that I’ll be there for you whenever you need someone to lean on, someone to support you. I want to help you however I can.”

Tears begin to well in his eyes, his heart on the verge of bursting from his chest. He’s never felt anything like this before. He’s always taken pride in protecting the people dearest to him, whether it be his family or his fellow brothers in the gang. And while he knows that his friends will always have his back, knowing that someone outside of Toman is looking out for him, determined to protect him, feels different. Is it okay for Mitsuya to rely on her like this? To be vulnerable and depend on her throughout all the obstacles that come his way? Draken’s words from last night replay in his head. You deserve to be happy. You’re always the one taking care of others, it’s about time someone takes care of you. The more he thinks about it, he realizes that yes, maybe he does deserve this.

He grabs a tissue from his nightstand, wiping away his sniffles. “You’ve already helped me so much. I don’t know if this makes sense, but when I’m with you, I feel normal. I feel like myself, you know? Like I’m more than just this Toman jacket. I’m just me. A lot of our classmates are too scared to talk to me, and when they do, it’s usually for a favor because of my reputation. But you approached me, wanting sewing lessons. I feel like you see the real me more than anyone else does.”

It takes a several seconds for her to respond, seemingly holding back tears. Eventually, she says, “I’m really glad I came to you for lessons then.”

“Me too.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them as they cherish each other’s heartfelt sentiments, Mitsuya stares at his bedroom ceiling with the phone pressed to his hear, wishing he could see her right now. “So, Hana Shimizu.”

She giggles. “Yes, Takashi Mitsuya?”

“Would you please do me the honor and be my girlfriend?”

There’s more of her precious laughter as she answers, “Yes. And will you do me the honor and be my boyfriend?”

“Absolutely yes,” he replies, smiling even wider. He’s tempted to get out of bed and drive to her house to commemorate this special occasion, but he resists. Instead, he blurts out, “Do you want to come over for breakfast tomorrow? I really want to see you before school on Monday. I can make pancakes. Plus, my mom has a late shift and she’ll be home, so you can meet her.”

“Isn’t this too soon to be meeting your mother?”

“Is it? Are there rules against it or something?”

She laughs. “I guess not. We can make up our own rules. As long as we’re learning together, right?”

“You know I like the sound of that. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, Takashi.”

His breath hitches, enjoying the sound of his name from her mouth a little too much. Chest fluttering with affection, he says quietly, “Goodnight, Hana.”

~~~

Within twenty-four hours of his confession, you are officially Takashi Mitsuya’s girlfriend.

You stare wide-eyed at the ceiling of your bedroom in disbelief, the phone still warm in your grasp having just finished your conversation with your now boyfriend. You’re tingling all over, utterly amazed and completely ecstatic at this recent turn of events. Who would have thought you, plain and ordinary Hana Shimizu, would be anyone’s girlfriend, let alone Takashi Mitsuya’s girlfriend?

It takes you a while to fall asleep, mind racing with thoughts and fantasies of your new relationship. You wake up the next morning, both nervous and excited to see him. Knowing that you’ll be meeting his mom today, you put on your best dress, hoping to make a good impression. You quietly step down the stairs, barely sticking your head into the kitchen to greet your parents. “Morning! I’m going out for breakfast!”

Before you can sneak away, your mother calls out to you. “With who? Mei and Keiko?”

You contemplate lying, but you know that never pans out well. So, praying they don’t question it, you answer, “I’m going to the Mitsuyas.” You listen for any reaction, and when you only hear hushed whispers between your parents, you slip into your shoes, heading out the door.

It’s a short trip to his house, less than ten minutes. You knock on the front door, taking a deep breath. He answers quickly, a smile already on his face, eyes full of kindness as he greets you. “Hana, good morning.” Your name sounds so soothing from his mouth; you never thought your name was special but hearing it from him makes it feel that way. “Hi, Takashi.”

He rubs the nape of his neck, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I’m not used to hearing you say my first name yet.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, not at all. I just…I think I like it a little too much,” he admits.

You reach for his hand, brushing your fingers gently along his knuckles. When Luna and Mana come running towards the entrance, you immediately retract from him, embarrassed. “Ms. Hana!” they cheer, hugging you tightly around the waist.

You pat their heads. “Hi! I missed you two!”

They peer up at you, beaming. “We missed you so much!”

“What did Taka do to you, huh? Should we beat him up?” Luna offers, shooting a glare at her brother.

“No, no, no! He didn’t do anything wrong, I promise,” you assure them.

Takashi snorts, playfully rolling his eyes. “Like you even stand a chance.”

“We know exactly where to hit you, Taka!” Luna threatens.

Mana chimes in. “Yeah, you taught us, remember?!”

You grin at him, brow raised. “What are you teaching them?”

“Self-defense, of course,” he replies, smirking. “In case some idiots try to mess with them.”

A woman with the same downturned lavender eyes appears from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. The resemblance is uncanny; this is definitely Takashi’s mother. She’s as beautiful as you imagined her to be and you’re immediately flustered under her gaze. You bow to her, the kiddos still latched to your legs. “Good morning, Ms. Mitsuya. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course. You’re welcome anytime. I’ve heard so much about your from my children, so I’m so happy I finally get to meet you. The food is ready, so if you’d like, we can start eating.”

The five of you gather around the table, Takashi taking the seat beside you, his knee touching yours as you sit cross-legged on the cushion. The spread is fantastic: fluffy pancakes stacked neatly one-by-one, pillowy golden tamago topped with strips of seaweed, bowls of strawberries and other fruit to top it all off. Luna and Mana help themselves to a pile of pancakes, drizzling a generous amount of syrup before they take a big bite. Takashi serves you, giving you a little bit of everything to try. His mother watches the two of you, a small grin on her face.

You chat casually, Ms. Mitsuya asking the typically questions: how’s school, what your family does for work, what you plan to study in university. “I’m going to major in education. I want to become a teacher,” you inform her.

“So you will follow in your father’s footsteps. How wonderful,” she comments. “Mitsuya, maybe you should consider doing that, too.”

You face him, nodding. “You’d be a great teacher!”

He shrugs, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I think I’d rather keep my major to business. If I ever become a designer, I might want to open my own shop, you know?”

His mom leans forward, a serious expression on her face now. “Do you think you’ll really follow through with it, Takashi? I know how committed you are to Toman, but maybe it’s time to move on from it. I don’t want you to put your dreams on the backburner for this little gang of yours.”

“Why can’t I do both? I’m not just going to abandon my friends, Mom. And I’m not going to abandon my dreams, either. I can do them both,” He avoids her gaze, staring down at his almost empty plate of food. You rest your hand on his knee, squeezing it, wanting to show your support for him. If he’s confident that he can balance both obligations at the same time, then you believe in him too.

He smiles at you, entwining his fingers with yours. “I have another announcement to make. Hana and I are dating.” Much to your shock, he holds your hands up, showcasing this display of affection.

Luna and Mana squeal, applauding enthusiastically. “Yay!”

You anticipate his mother’s reaction and breathe a sigh of relief when you notice her serious demeanor relax, a grin spreading across her face at the news. “Congratulations. I’m very happy to hear that.”

He grips you tighter, looking at her. “Mom, I know you think I have a lot to deal with, but I can do this. When have I ever let you down?”

She shakes her head. “You never have.”

“So, do I have your support? Do we have your support?”

She smiles. “Of course. You always have, and you always will.”

While the abrupt announcement has you shaken at first, you can’t help being elated at how well this is already going. With his mother’s approval, this only leaves your parents to consult with next, which might prove a bit more difficult than this. However, with Takashi by your side, you’re confident you can convince them to trust in this new relationship of yours. Especially with all the wonderful merits your boyfriend brings to the table.

After breakfast, you play with this sisters in the living room while mother and son wash the dishes in the kitchen. When Takashi excuses himself to use the bathroom, you take this chance to speak to her in private, if only for a brief moment. Standing next to her at the sink, a clean dish towel in hand, you offer to dry the dishes, which she gladly accepts. “Ms. Mitsuya. I just want to thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“Like I said, you’re always welcome here.” She glances at the hallway, checking on Takashi, who remains in the bathroom. In a lower, hushed tone, she adds, “I just hope that you can push Takashi in the right direction.”

Confused, you ask, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, scrubbing the last bowl with the sponge. “I don’t want him to be in Toman for the rest of his life. I’m not sure if you know this, but back in middle school, he got into this really big fight. He was beaten to nearly an inch of his life, all for the sake of his friend, Hakkai. I’m scared that if this continues any further, there will be a time he’ll put his life on the line and won’t be able to get back on his feet. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, so maybe you can steer him to where he needs to go.”

It’s never crossed your mind what hardships Takashi has had to overcome in his past. Sure, there are rumors and idle gossip about him floating amongst your classmates, but you never paid it any mind, wanting to get to know him for yourself. Hearing this from his own mother is concerning, and with her subtle plea for you to guide him away from Toman, you’re not sure if you’re qualified to do that. It doesn’t seem like your place to interfere with his life. All you can do is support in whatever decisions he makes, right?

Your boyfriend returns before you can respond to her, standing beside you to help dry the remaining dishes. Ms. Mitsuya slides her gloves off, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “I need to run to the store to get a few groceries. I’ll take the girls with me so they can pick out some snacks. Will you be okay here, Taka?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Hana, it was so nice to finally meet you. I’ll see you again soon, okay?” She wraps her arms around you in a snug embrace.

“Yes, thank you for breakfast, Ms. Mitsuya,” you say, squeezing her back. You hug Luna and Mana goodbye before they leave hand-and-hand with their mother, leaving you and Takashi alone.

You turn to face him, stepping closer. “I guess I should head home soon.”

He closes the distance even further, leaning towards you, his hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

You grin at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you for inviting me. This was really fun.”

He slides his hands around your waist, pulling you closer, nuzzling his nose to yours. “It was. Thank you for coming.”

Your lips meet in a delicate kiss, sweet and soft just as you imagined it’d be. Warmth fills your chest and you’re almost breathless when you part, his forehead pressed to yours, smiling. “Do you really have to go?”

You giggle, giving him a peck on the cheek before you pull away. “I think I should.”

He watches you from the doorway as you make your way outside, twirling in your dress once more to wave goodbye. You stroll through the neighborhood in a daze, lips tingling, body buzzing with excitement, taking your time to get home.

Ms. Mitsuya’s request still lingers in your mind as you enter your house, humming a happy tune with your mom and dad eyeing you suspiciously. Then, there’s your parents, of course, who you’ll need to talk to soon. There may be obstacles to face, but you’re confident that you and Takashi can persevere, together. All that matters in this moment is that the two of you are happy. And there is nothing standing in your way to stop that.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers mitsuya #tokyo revengers x you #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x you #mitsuya x original character #mitsuya fluff #takashi mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #lavender & velvet series

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 14

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: E for Explicit. 18+ Word Count: 16k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Hurt/comfort, family planning, mentions of sex toys, lingerie, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Jack’s condition upon waking up in Ginger’s lab has some unexpected consequences. A meeting with Champ goes a little differently than expected. And Tex and Sophia’s wedding leads to something we all should have seen coming. Notes: We’re in the home stretch now, folx! One more chapter and an epilogue before we’re jetting off to the next soulmate story. This rollercoaster with Jack and Sugar has been quite the ride and I can’t begin to say how much I’ve loved having all of you along for it. 🧡🧡✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Hours tick by at a snail's pace. Diana delivers dinner from the restaurant with a Get Well card signed by your staff who all think that it's you still under the weather, and not Jack fighting for his life in a science fiction machine. There's food for you, Tex, and Ginger there but you don't have the stomach for it. You can't seem to do anything but stare as Jack sleeps the hours away, exhausted from crying until there are no more tears left to shed. He has to wake up. He has to.

Six hours pass, then seven. Longer than your own time in the chamber. Hour eight arrives and Jack’s vitals change slightly. The tiniest twitch of his finger, lifting and flexing off the bed. Eyes fluttering slightly. Jack is starting to stir.

“Ginger! Ginger, he’s waking up!” Bolting up out of your chair, you nearly jump forward to get your hands on the pod but Tex holds you back. No good can come from interrupting Jack’s healing, even if he understands how anxious you are.

It’s not an instantaneous thing, waking up from the healing coma he had been in. His injuries were more severe than yours had been, plus his body needed to heal from the trauma of nearly dying several times. He shifts slightly, frowning with his eyes closed as Ginger comes over and punches several commands on the front of the chamber.

“It’s going to be slow,” she warns you, not turning around as she watches Jack’s face start to react to regular stimuli. “You remember how groggy you were?”

“Right.” It takes more of Tex’s strength to hold you back than he expected, but you’re nodding and practically going to pull him over. “I—I just— he’s waking up!”

She bites her lip, remembering the last time that Jack had woken up from a serious injury. She wonders if he will remember you, remember himself. If this will make the situation between you worse. “He’s waking up.” She murmurs quietly.

The monitors whir to life with all manner of sounds and readings and the quiet fear that Jack will be different again gnaws at you. If it had happened once, it might happen again. The door to the chamber clicks and there is a quiet hiss as the pressure equalizes inside. Sounding like something from a science fiction movie before it slowly opens up. The monitor shuts off and for a second the entire room is quiet as everyone instinctively leans in to watch what Jack will do. Tex braces himself, holding back from you and Ginger on purpose – he’s not a medical professional by any means and his face isn’t going to bring Jack’s memories back if they’ve slipped, so all he can do is watch and wait.

When his eyes pop open, they are wide, taking in the scene of two women leaning over him. Watching both of them jump back slightly and he focuses on the one in the glasses, just because she is closer. Swinging up to sit, he leaps to his feet with a smirk on his face. “Hello gorgeous.” He drawls, stepping forward with a determined hitch in his step. “How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” He drawls out. “I’ve got a six pack on ice and my roomie’s out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, darlin’.” Every other word is punctuated by a step forward. The gait of a man on the prowl as Ginger backs up.

She expected this. She did. And it’s good to see that Jack’s reaction to waking up is exactly the same as always. Except this time, there is no need for the photograph in her coat pocket. Ginger clears her throat, masking her amusement, and puts one hand on your shoulder to redirect his attention to you. “Barking up the wrong tree, cowboy,” she tells him, nudging you in front of her. “Try again.”

The confusion on Jack’s face flashes as he is redirected but he smirks and strides towards you. “Hello sugar.” His voice drops to the same sugary seductiveness he had used on Ginger, but then he freezes. Cylinders seem to fire and he straightens slightly, the lazy, uncaring posture abandoned and his eyes start to clear. “Sugar.” He breathes, more reverently this time, the nickname having the same meaning as it has since he’s bestowed it on you. “I– I was on a mission.”

“You were, love.” It takes every ounce of self-control you have not to pounce on him - not to throw your arms around him and pull him against you and never let go again. Your hands flex with it and your whole body seems to shake with the need to touch him. “Y—you got hurt…Sophia brought you back home.”

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to remember but it’s all hazy. Just slipping from his grasp like a wisp of smoke. He grunts, eyes finding yours again. “You’re here.”

“I was here when they brought you in.” You remember being a bit fuzzy when you were healed here but you hadn’t been nearly as hurt as Jack, so you try not to be scared that he seems so disoriented. Instead you reach out, gently touching his fingertips with yours. “I’m right here, Jack. You’re gonna be okay.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Jack rasps out, shaking his head. “You– you’re pregnant.” He coughs, wincing at the small ache in his newly mended side. The skin is still tender. “You need– rest.”

“I’m not.” It actually breaks your heart to say, now that you’ve sat with the reality for long enough, and seeing how it pains Jack just makes that ache deepen. “I was wrong. I’m not. Ginger checked, I promise.”

“You’re not?” He shakes his head, unsure if he’s heard you correctly or not. His head hurts, pounding and it feels like the blood is rushing his ears. Ginger had said the more often you got into the chamber, the worse the recovery would be. She’s right about that. “It’s okay–” he promises, thinking that you’re because you’re scared. “I–I don’t care if it’s mine.” He takes your hand fully, lacing his fingers with yours. “It’s your baby, a part of you, and I’m– I’m going to be there for you, for them.”

“Jack, I’m not pregnant.” Holding his hand tightly, you step closer and put your other hand to his face to cup his cheek. “It was just stress and the chamber fucking with my body after the kidnapping. Ginger can show you my scans if you don��t believe me.”

Relief and sadness wash over him in nearly equal measure. Relief because he selfishly wants you to have his baby. Not someone else’s. Sadness because he had realized after talking to Champ, he is ready to be a father. Or at least prepare to be a father again. He closes his eyes and nods, absorbing the information and covering your hand with his own.

“You need rest, love.” Sure he popped out of that chamber like a baseball shooting out of a pitching machine, but he looks…worn. You’d almost call it sad, but you brush that thought off and glance at Astrid. “Maybe Ging will let me take you home?”

“Home.” His eyes open and they slide over to Ginger. “Can I go home?” He asks quietly, not feeling exactly up to racing off on another mission just yet. Maybe he is getting old.

“I want to get a clean set of vitals, and then yes.” She nods, looking at you seriously. “You will call me the second anything about his condition changes, and you will bring him in tomorrow morning so I can give him a once over. He always tries to skip them but they’re important.”

“Absolutely,” you agree immediately, wanting Jack to be able to come home so you can take care of him. The chamber will have had some kind of effect on him that you can’t place yet, and you know you need to let him take it easy, but the idea of bringing him home seems desperately important right now.

Jack lets Ginger lead him away, checking him over as she frowns. “Am I gunna live?” He jokes weakly.

“Fortunately for the woman who hasn’t left your side for the last eight and a half hours? Yes.” Ginger pauses her examination to look up at him. “But if you take another bad hit in a mission? Between you and me, Jack, not even I might be able to bring you back next time.”

“So you’re tellin’ me it might be time to hang up my whip?” He asks seriously, aware that an agent past his prime might be more of a liability than an asset in the field.

"I'm saying you should sit down with Champ." Her lips are pursed, not enjoying having to deliver that kind of news. Not ever. "Intelligence gathering and tails might be more...appropriate choices for you at this point." Ginger sighs, pinching her eyes shut before she looks her friend in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Jack. But you've been on the brink of death three times now. That takes its toll."

Jack looks over at you, watching as you stare at him as if you could blink and he will disappear. “Haven’t had much beyond the job to live for in a long time.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t think a third soulmate is in the cards for her. And I ain’t gunna make her live without one.”

"Sit down with Champ." Ginger urges again, her voice dropping to match his. "There's a lot of valuable work you can do for this agency without being a field agent." There had never been a moment she had known Jack that Ginger ever believed that he would leave this life any other way but on a mission, but his eyes are crystal clear with the decision.

“I will.” Jack winces again and shakes his head. “But I’ll do that tomorrow. She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

"Go home. Let her dote on you. She's been worried sick since she came to me yesterday morning for a test." She shrugs with a sigh. "Since before that, from what Gabi said."

“I’ll let her dote.” Jack promises, nodding. That’s what had been bothering you, and he feels guilty for leaving and not talking to you.

"He's all yours." Ginger tells you with a bright smile. It's not her place to tell you any of what Jack is considering, or her medical opinion. But she's damn glad that Jack had a reason to fight. Without it, he might have gone out on that mission the way she always figured he would. "Don't let him do much of anything," she warns, then smirks. "Including sex. I'm telling you both, he needs forty-eight hours of rest before any exertion."

Jack pouts but it’s purely for show. Right now he’s not even sure if he could get it up, he’s feeling so out of sorts. The initial burst of energy has been quickly depleted.

"Let's go home, love." Having him released is more than you ever would have gotten in a regular hospital – you would be sitting at his bedside for a week or more. As it is, you put your arms around him and feel him sag a little, which you don't like at all. "We can curl up and nap if you want, or I can make you something to eat? Or we can just turn on a movie. Whatever you want. I'm all yours."

“I just–” Jack frowns, realizing he’s not even wearing his shirt but the scrubs they put on you when you have to have your clothes removed. “Damn, I liked that jacket too.” He huffs, knowing it must have been cut off of him.

"I can grab you something from your office?" Tequila offers, having been sitting quietly during the commotion of Jack's revival. He hadn't left your side while you waited for your soulmate to wake up, and now he just wanted to make sure that his best friend was well enough to get home before he went and reported to Champ.

“I– no, I don’t think so?” Jack frowns and shakes his head quietly. His bag was on the Statesman jet. Wherever that currently was.

"I had them take your bag back to the house," the younger man offers, knowing that an agent and his go-bag were often separated when medical emergencies happened. Frankly, the fact that Jack survived is something of a miracle. It was touch and go for far too long. "You guys go home. I'll call later to see how you're feeling, okay?"

“Thanks.” Jack reaches out and shakes Tequila’s hand. “Go home and take care of your soulmate. I think I worried her.”

“You worried all of us.” And he’ll be damned if he’s going to sugar coat that at all. Either way, Tex gives you a tight hug and waves to Ginger on his way out of the lab. He’s already texted Sophia that Jack is awake, but she’ll want a full update.

Jack turns towards you, an apology in his eyes. He’s made things hard for you and tiredness in your eyes is his fault.

“C’mon, baby.” All you care about right now is that he’s safe, and that means not letting him out of your sight for at least a few days. If you have your way he’ll be sitting in your office when you go back to work so you know he’s okay. You hold out your hand to him, gratefully sighing when he takes it and feels solid in your grasp to head for the elevator.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Jack murmurs quietly. “Didn’t think he’d get me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” For all you know the entire incident is classified and you just have to sit on the knowledge that he was in danger, but you step into the barrel-shaped elevator together and fortunately find yourselves alone again.

Jack hesitates, not because it’s classified, it’s not. But he knows as soon as he tells you, you’re gunna blame yourself and he doesn’t want that. Ultimately the blame rests on him alone.

“If you can’t, I understand.” His hand in yours flexes and you look at him curiously, biting your lip for a second before exhaling slowly. “If there’s…some other reason you don’t want to tell me…like you had to kiss Sophia for the mission and didn’t see the guy come up on you or something like that…work is work, love. I promise I won’t be upset.”

“I didn’t kiss Sophia.” Jack sighs, knowing he needs to be honest with you. “I just need you to tell me about what has been going on with you, okay?” He asks, relieved when you nod. “Sugar, I just– I was distracted. That’s why I got hurt.”

It’s your fault. The first thought in your head when he tells you it was a distraction is that if you were the distraction then you are at fault. “I’m so sorry.” You murmur, looking down at your joined hands like he ought to be tearing away from you.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.” Jack squeezes your hand and pulls you close. “It’s not your fault. I should have been thinkin’ about the mission. Not about somethin’ I couldn’t do anything about.”

“I should have called you the second I thought I was pregnant,” you admit quietly, listening to Jack’s heart beat with your head on his chest. “I panicked.”

“I did too.” Jack confesses quietly. “That's why I had to leave early last night.”

“Diana told me about Bobby.” This elevator ride seems to be for letting all of your secrets out, but if that’s what it needs to be then you’ll take it. “And how you went over last night. Jack, I…I was convinced you would leave me if it was anyone else’s. That’s why I got so scared. And then I realized that I don’t even know if you want to have kids…after what happened to your son.”

“I didn’t want kids.” Jack admits. “Not until the moment I figured – wrongly – that you were pregnant.”

“So…” Pulling back to look into his eyes, the doors open as soon as you’re about to open your mouth again and you stifle when you see Agent Rye waiting to enter on the ground floor. “Let’s get home,” you murmur, knowing you have a lot to talk about.

Your car isn’t here, but Jack’s Bronco is sitting in the parking lot. A testimony to just how out of sorts Jack feels is evident when he doesn’t try to get behind the wheel. Tucking him into the passenger side only takes a second, and you climb behind the wheel to make the five minute drive home. "Are you tired, honey?" He seems exhausted, but you don't know how he's feeling emotionally. Whether or not he wants to finish the conversation you were having so he can quiet his mind to actually rest. Or if he's too damn tired for it to even matter.

“Yes and no.” Jack just wants to touch you. To hold you and know that he didn’t die. That you aren’t leaving him. He had been worried you would, you’re an honorable woman and you might have thought it was best if you left if you had been pregnant. “I just– I want to lay down with you.”

"How about we cuddle up in bed and we can drift off whenever we feel like?" You reach for his hand as you drive, lacing your fingers together and holding onto him even as you rest your hand back on the gear shift. "We can keep talking if you want to, or just hang on to each other." It's enough that he's here. That Sophia brought him home to you and Astrid fixed him up, and that you can take him home to crawl into bed together. That's more than you had feared you would have even just a few hours ago.

“That sounds good, sugar.” Jack still feels off kilter, but he squeezes your hand. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

"I'm sorry I worried you." The two of you had been pretty far off base these last few days, which you haven't been in a while. That's the kind of thing that makes your stomach churn when you think about it and you don't like it one bit.

“I should have talked to you instead of trying to figure out how to fix things.” Jack can admit he was wrong, especially when all it took was a simple conversation. He could have gone with you to Ginger’s test and the thing put behind the both of you before he ever was on the mission.

"I should have told you why I was upset instead of being distant." The breathy chuckle that comes out of you is rueful, and you look over at him as you turn the Bronco into your driveway. "I think I know what we're talking about in our next therapy appointment."

“At least it will be some new form of miscommunication.” Jack jokes awkwardly.

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not." You cut the engine and lift Jack's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Let's keep this going, though. Honesty is...it's scary, but we usually do okay with it."

“I don’t want to risk losing you again.” Jack nods, sighing softly. “Let’s– let’s go inside.”

Neither of you bother to stop on the ground floor, you only take a three second detour for glasses of water to bring upstairs in case Jack gets thirsty and then you’re behind the safety of your closed bedroom door. “You’re not going to lose me,” you promise him, setting the glasses down so you can take his hands. “I was afraid to lose you. That…that if the baby wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t want either of us.”

“I was angry.” Jack won’t deny that. “But I was angry at myself. Hurt because of my own fucking stubborn pride and I–” he shrugs and closes his eyes. “Terrified because for a split second, I imagined what losing you and another baby – mine or not – would do to me.”

“I—” You blow out a breath, reminding yourself that you were the one counseling honesty just a few minutes ago. “I wasn’t going to keep it,” you admit quietly, eyes turning down to the carpet just so you don’t have to see if he reacts badly. “If it wasn’t yours. I asked Astrid if she could find out early enough.”

“Would you have told me?” Jack frowns, understanding that it would be your choice but he hopes that it wouldn’t be to hide something like that from him.

“You?” With a sigh, you nod your head. “Yes. But I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone else.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to make that choice.” Even as bone-deep exhausted as he suddenly is, Jack picks up your hand and kisses it. “I need to shower. Hate how that damn machine makes me feel.”

“Do you want me to come with you, or do you want me to warm up the bed?” Sure Astrid said no sex, but that isn’t what you’re angling for. You just want the closeness and the intimacy of being beside him. You’re still skittish about letting him out of your sight.

Jack knows exactly how you feel right now. He can read it in your eyes and he remembers the need to have you with him. That if he took his eyes off of you, you would disappear. He’s sure that you are feeling the same. “Come with me, sugar?”

Pure relief relaxes your shoulders and you nod, following him into the bathroom to toss your lived-in pajamas into the laundry basket. The hospital-style scrubs that he had been put into after his clothes were cut away would just be thrown out, as disposability was a virtue of those particular items.

Jack looks back at you and then gestures. “Bath or shower?” A shower would be quicker, but he doesn’t know how you are feeling about things right now. It might be better for you to soak.

An argument could be made for either one, but crawling into bed with him and holding him in your arms feels like the right thing for right now. Plus, there’s the other thing. “Shower?” You smile a little guiltily. “If I have you naked in the bath I can’t guarantee I’ll behave myself and Astrid said no sex.”

“Shower.” Jack doesn’t want to embarrass himself by not even being able to get it up, and he doesn’t know if he could right now. “That sounds good, sugar.”

It’s just a few minutes – long enough to clean both of you up and get the blood splatter out of Jack’s hair. Whatever happened, it was far more brutal than what you had first imagined when Diana showed up at your door last night.

Jack lets you wash him, feeling a little embarrassed by how much he enjoys it. Or simply not having to do it himself. He climbs out of the shower and huffs when you dry him off, not even bothering to dress before he shuffles to the bedroom. Falling into bed is easy. You just climb under the covers and let him curl up against you, wrapping your arms around him and relishing the solid bulk pressed against your body. He’s here. He’s home. He’s alive.

“What did Ginger say to you?” You ask quietly, once you’re both settled. “While she was discharging you?”

Jack sighs, knowing that he can't hide this from you, not when it would affect you. "That I need to talk to Champ."

“About what? The accident?” Of course he needs to talk to Champ. That’s his boss and his friend. You can’t imagine why he wouldn’t, and your brows furrowed in confusion.

"She said that she doesn't know if she can pull me back the next time." Jack whispers softly. "It's the third time."

No one’s heart should be capable of breaking so many times in so few days, but you can feel yours crack again at the resignation in his voice. The fact that he already has broken again. “As in…if this happens again…that might be…it?”

"Ye–yeah." Jack sighs again. "I'm gunna talk to Champ. Tell 'em I want out of the field. I'm sorry, sugar. I should have– I should have just accepted that I didn't need to be in the field anymore."

“Need?” His choice of words makes your forehead pinch that much more, but you graze one hand over his bare back soothingly. “It’s your job, love. A job that you’ve been extremely successful at, from everything I’ve heard.”

"I needed the job before you." Jack explains softly. "I needed a high risk job that took me away from the pain, my own fucking thoughts. And I realized about two seconds after I got on the mission that I didn't want to be there."

“You don’t…want to be an agent anymore?” The idea is practically unfathomable to you, but it’s Jack’s life and his decision. What he decides to make of things is entirely up to him. All you can do is support him, though you have no idea through what.

"I don't want to leave you without a soulmate, or a widow." Jack is adamant about that. "Maybe I could go into the field if needed every now and again, but–" His arms tighten around you. "I want a future with you and I won't give that up for the thrill of a mission."

“I love you so much.” Mirroring him, your arms hold him that much closer and you bury your face in his damp hair to just breathe in the solid state of him all around you. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. I just…I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

"Only regret I will have is if I hurt you again, sugar." Jack murmurs quietly. "I think I want to just train agents and settle down."

“Settle down, huh?” You can see Jack as a trainer. He had bitched about being stuck with the recruits but every day you’d see him come home from work satisfied with what they’d done and ready with new ideas. He hadn’t been willing to admit that he enjoyed it. At least not until now. “Are you telling me this house might get a little more crowded?” The subject of children has been breached by the last few days and it’s not the kind of thing you want to pretend didn’t happen. As much as you had been terrified to lose Jack, the idea of having a baby with him had made you feel so hopeful.

"If that's something you wanted, sugar." Jack's brow furrows and he smiles when your thumb rubs it to smooth it out. "I– I can't deny that I won't be worried. I'll probably hover like a nervous nelly."

“Would your worry outweigh any happiness it might bring you?” That’s one thing that you never would have even thought of before him - that the amount of worry your soulmate might have over you being pregnant or having a young child might be far greater than the joy of having a family.

"Before yesterday I would have said yes." Jack tells you honestly. "But– I just– I can't explain it. I was terrified and happy, sad and eager all at the same time."

“Things can change in the blink of an eye,” you remind him, that same gentle worry in your voice. “Second soulmates and second chances…it’s all a lot of things you didn’t think you’d have again. But I…I’m glad that you want to build a life, love. I would have understood if you never wanted to be a parent again. But I— while Ginger had me under the scanner, I just kept thinking…if it was yours, I would have been over the moon.”

Emotions stick in his throat, making him have to swallow as he nods. He would have been happy about that too. "I– I would have come out of the field then, too." He promises, knowing that missions are tough on a soulmate, especially hard if they are pregnant.

“Can I ask you something?” You were never brave enough to bring it up before, not wanting to upset him, but the proverbial can of worms has already been dumped everywhere anyway. You may as well try.

“Anything, sugar.” Jack’s eyes are closed and his fingers brush your bare back encouragingly.

“I wondered, that’s all.” As comforting as you’re trying to be, you've also made yourself quite nervous. “If…you had ever picked a name for your son?”

"We had." Jack murmurs softly. "She was due in less than seven weeks when they were...killed." He knows you want to know what the name is. "We had decided on Timothy, Timothy Charles. Charles was my daddy's name."

“If you still want to honor him if we have a boy, we can absolutely do that.” You promise him, blinking back some water that is rising behind your eyes. “I just…I didn’t want to accidentally suggest a name to you one day and have it be the one you had already picked out. That’s all.”

"You are thoughtful, sugar." He murmurs quietly, opening his eyes to stare into yours. "I'm grateful that you understand." The happiness and joy of choosing names is more bittersweet than it had been before. Smiling softly as he remembers how Abigail had worried over it for weeks until they decided.

“When my sister and her husband were picking out names for their kids it was a whole chaotic thing.” At times it had seemed to be even more stressful for Eliza than carrying the babies themselves, which seemed crazy. But now you look at it and it doesn’t seem odd at all – even just two days of thinking about it made you realize that was a whole entire person who was going to have that name. That’s an enormous responsibility. “Whatever changes come, we’ll manage. You’ll talk to Champ about coming out of the field, I’ll keep my head down at the restaurant and really get things going. When you’re ready to talk about trying for a baby, then we’ll take that step as well.”

Jack bites his lip, nodding and then he sighs softly. "Um, sugar?" He ventures. He knows you are tired, but the need to eat something has hit him out of nowhere and it feels like his stomach is about to eat itself through to his spine. "I'm going to go fix myself a sandwich."

“Okay…” It’s not that it’s unusual to snack or anything like that, but you frown for a second. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Like actually cook something?”

"You're tired." Jack protests, although the thought of your food has him nearly drooling. Especially your take on shrimp and grits. "I can live with a sandwich."

“How about I make a big dinner tonight?” It’s a compromise, and you tend to be good at those. “Have a sandwich now and we’ll take a nap. And then tonight I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner and tell you about the good parts of New York.”

"That sounds good." Jack nods but he doesn't make any more to get out of the bed. He wants to, but he just doesn't.

“Less hungry than you thought?” When he doesn’t move, you shift in bed and give him a once over to make sure everything is okay.

"Just...slow." Jack draws, sending you a slow grin and blinking just as slow.

“I don’t think Ginger wants you moving too fast anyway.” As long as he’s safe, that’s all that matters to you. Jack’s safety is paramount.

Eventually, Jack pulls back, slowly unwinding his arms from around you. He wouldn't do it at all, but he is hungry and he needs to get something in his stomach. "You gunna come with me, or stay here?"

“I’ll come with you.” As tired as you are, it’s much easier for you to pop out of bed and throw on your bathrobe to wander after him. And you’re not one to say no to a snack.

Jack doesn't bother with clothes, just striding downstairs in the buff, albeit slower than he normally moves. Moving to the fridge and opening it up. He knows you keep all kinds of goodies in the fridge now.

“What are you thinking?” Normally there’s a container of crawfish salad in your fridge at all times but Jack seems to have demolished the last one. “Something small or something filling?”

“I don’t know.” He admits as he pokes around the fridge. “I had thought of shrimp and grits, and then the crawfish salad but I ate that for dinner while you were gone.”

"I can make shrimp and grits for dinner if you want." It's a little more involved than just a sandwich, especially the way you make it, but you pull out an airtight container of roasted chicken and hold it up with a grin. "Waldorf chicken salad sandwich?" It was one of the things that didn't end up on the Rabbit Hole menu, but Jack had loved. Roast chicken salad with tarragon, grapes, toasted walnuts, and sliced celery is fresh but filling.

Jack groans and nods happily. “Yes, that sounds amazing.” He wants to sit down but he moves towards the bread bin. “Sourdough or everything?” He asks, his eyes rolling back at the thought of the chicken salad on an everything bagel.

"You know I believe chicken salad belongs on a bagel." To date, Jack seems to be the one person in the world who believes that as much as you do, and had accordingly taken you to what he considered the best bagel place in Louisville for breakfast one morning soon after you had moved in.

“Everything it is.” Jack pulls out the fresh bagels and moves over to the toaster to twist them open and toast them to perfection.

He makes an obscene noise when you shove a container of cookies aside on the counter to make room for your cutting board and you smile at him, feeling more worry slide away as you see your Jack shine through after his accident. "Appetite out of nowhere, huh?" You tease gently. "You sure Ginger's machine didn't make you pregnant this time?"

“Isn’t there a movie about that?” Jack asks with a grin as he snags a red velvet cookie with cream cheese chips. “Mr. Mom, or something? I might be pregnant.”

"Junior." The man has been through a near-death experience, so you just push the cookies over to him and let him enjoy while you chop things up for the chicken salad. It does, though, make you think. And you look over at him with curiosity. "Jack Junior, yay or nay?"

"Would you want a Junior?" Jack chomps down on half the cookie and looks at you curiously. "That was shot down quickly the first time, so I get that some people don't like it."

"I dunno, I kinda like it." You've always been into the idea of honoring family members with name choice. A lot of cultures take it very seriously and you find it to be a really sweet way of saying that someone is important to you. "Jack Charles has a ring to it. For you and your father? It's just a thought."

“Jackson.” Jack mumbles quietly, stuffing the rest of his cookie into his mouth.

"Jackson?" It doesn't quite register at first, but about five full seconds later you put your knife down and tilt your head at him. "Do you mean to tell me we're engaged to be married and I didn't know your real first name?"

“Never went by it.” Jack winces and sends you a small grin. “Jackson Wyatt Daniels.” He’s never gone by anything but Jack, never even really thinks about his real name.

"That is the most cowboy-ass stupidly sexy name I've ever heard." You nearly burst out laughing at your own reaction, but you swear if Jack was feeling up to it you'd be leaning over this kitchen counter right the hell now. For some reason it just perfectly conjured the image of horses and sunsets and campfires in your mind and all but has your mouth watering.

“Yeah? You like my stupidly sexy ‘cowboy-ass name’?” He chuckles and reaches for another cookie.

"We don't have cowboys in New Hampshire," you remind him with a pout before refocusing on making his sandwich. "Stupidly sexy or otherwise. And I love your name. So much that I will definitely have Jackson at the top of my baby name list if we ever have a boy."

“If you want to name him Jackson, that’s okay with me.” Just because Jack didn’t use his full name, didn’t mean a son wouldn’t.

"And if you want to name a little girl, that's fine with me." His bagel pops out of the toaster a second later and you lean over to kiss him when you grab it. You fill the two halves up with prepared chicken salad and slide the plate over to him to enjoy.

“I think we should name ‘em together, don’t you?” He asks, smiling at the idea. “Though I’ve always kinda liked the name Emily.”

"I have an aunt Emily who's not exactly the nicest person. She would tell everyone in the world that we named the baby after her and try to be her godmother or something." This, apparently, is exactly the kind of reason to share the decision together, and you gather things up in your arms to bring them back to the fridge while Jack eats. "Maybe a middle name? Or a variant like Amelia or Emeline?"

"Never mind. No Emily." Jack shakes his head, crossing that name off his list. "What's been a name you've always liked?"

With everything put away, you grab a cookie from the open container beside him and hum at the thought. It's both unconventional and very conventional at the same time, depending on who you are. "I always liked Scout," you tell him, nibbling at the cookie. "Like from To Kill a Mockingbird?"

"Scout, hmm?" Jack tilts his head and thinks about it. "It's...unusual" He has to give you that. He's distracted by taking another bite of his bagel sandwich and moaning softly at the deliciousness of it.

"It's okay if you don't like it." It's not like you have your heart set on it, and apparently picking a name for a girl will be slightly more difficult than deciding to name your son after his father.

"What about naming her after your grandmother?" Jack asks, tapping your bracelet on your wrist. "Charles is after his grandpa if it's a boy. We can honor your grandma with a girl."

"Jane?" It's a wonderful thought, one that has you moving in to put your arms around him in a tight hug of gratitude. "I think that would be beautiful. Jane Daniels is a very sweet name."

"You like that?" He asks, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“I love it.” On any other day you might get lost in that kiss, letting it linger and turn exploratory, but the both of you are bone tired and Ginger’s word is law, so you back off to let him finish eating. “Guess we’re all ready for it to happen, then. Down the line.”

"When is up to you." Jack murmurs softly. "You are the one with the restaurant to run."

“Let’s at least get you settled into whatever you new role is going to be.” With big changes in the horizon, throwing lots of new things at Jack all at once doesn’t seem fair in the least. “Talk to Champ, I’ll have Astrid give me a full physical to make sure I’m in good shape, and then we’ll look at family planning. Does that…sound okay?” It really is the definition of family planning, but now that you’ve had a taste of what the expected could feel like, you feel a lot better about a schedule than a surprise.

“That sounds good to me, sugar.” Jack pops the last bite of the bagel sandwich in his mouth and reaches for another cookie. “Still hungry. Damn.”

“That thing really did a number on your appetite, huh?” You’re a little too timid to ask if this is normal in any way for someone who has been so close to death – like his body trying to take in all the calories he needs to regain his strength very quickly.

“I guess.” Jack grunts, shoving the whole cookie into his mouth. “It’s like I’m a teenager again. Hunger-wise.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for acne and a pile of used tissues on your side of the bed.” There are plenty of cookies, thankfully, and you make a mental note to do some more baking tonight so he can at least enjoy his appetite.

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "I think that I've thought about sex less in the past two hours than I probably ever have."

“Then we won’t worry about that for now.” If nothing else, your neighbors will be spared the noise for a bit. “But if it doesn’t come back, make sure you tell Astrid. That’s definitely a side effect.”

"A damn embarrassin' one." Jack huffs, looking down at his flaccid cock. "Looks like a damn traitor to me."

“It’s better.” Or at least it’s not worse, and you throw Jack a grin. “You’re not allowed to indulge for at least two days, so it’s probably better that he’s taking a nap now and not when we are trying to make little humans.”

"Never let me down until now." He huffs, rolling his eyes. "I woulda broken Ging's rule. She knows it too."

“No one’s ever accused you of being well-behaved.” You smirk at him, seeing him finally take a breath again after killing the rest of the container of cookies. “Feel better? Or still hungry? I promise to make shrimp and grits tonight.”

"Now I want that nap." Jack is tried, weary is a more apt word. But just like he had when you had been released from the hyperbaric chamber, all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you and sleep.

“Then let’s go upstairs.” The kitchen is tidy enough, and you’re only going to make a mess of it later, so you leave things as they are and offer him your hand. “We could both do with a good nap in each other’s arms.”

“That’s the best damn idea I’ve heard, sugar.” Jack admits as he reaches for you. “I just want to hold you.”

“I am all for that.” After all, you barely slept the night after you got back from New York, and not at all last night. If not for your extended nap yesterday you’d be running on empty. “I am absolutely all for that.”

******

“Jack.” Champ turns from the bar cart, relieved to see his friend looking like himself. He had learned about his recovery through Tex but hadn’t wanted to intrude while you and he were holed up in the house. “Good to see you looking spry.” He motions Jack closer and holds up a bottle of Reserve. “Tempt you?”

Jack chuckles and nods. “Please. Need to talk to ya.”

“Sounds serious.” The last serious conversation they had had was about a baby, and from the determined set of Jack’s jaw, it could certainly have been unhappy news. “Everything okay?” He asks, pouring them each a glass.

“Yes and no.” Jack won’t deny that he’s upset that he needs to come out of the field, but recovering from injury has felt like he was going through a meat grinder and he wants to avoid leaving you alone in the world. “Need to talk to you about the last mission.”

“Agent Isolde briefed me fully.” The elder of the two men puts both glasses down on either side of his desk with a frown and sits, motioning for Jack to do the same. To say he had been less than thrilled with the injury of one of his best agents would be an understatement, but at least their goal had been achieved. “But I take it you want to discuss something that won’t be in your report?”

“Ginger’s basically said she doesn’t know if she can fix me next time ‘round.” Jack tells Champ bluntly, not willing to beat around the bush. “So I think it’s best if we reevaluate my role here in the operations side of Statesman.”

"Well, that ain't how I thought I would start my day." Champ grumbles, deflating slightly in his chair as he picks up his glass and knocks back half the contents in one go. "Gotta admit, Jack. Part of me didn't think you'd ever come out of the field unless it was in shreds, and it sounds like that's what happened this last time."

“Before…before her, I anticipated being carried out of the field in a box.” Jack admits. “You know I lived for the job, Champ. I ain’t quittin’ on ya. But I can’t make her go through losin’ another soulmate.”

"And I respect the hell out of that." Folding his hands in front of him on the desk, Champ examines his friend. "But I can't have you resentin' your work, either. Decision's gotta be for you. Not her."

“I’m makin’ the call.” Jack assures him. “She was just as flabbergasted as you are, but it’s not the same as when I was out for the tattoo. It’s my choice. I–I want to build a life with her and I can’t do that if she’s visitin’ my memorial.”

"Ain't very often we actually pay out Field Agent Pensions to the agent themselves instead of the spouse." It's not never, but it certainly is unusual. Champ sighs inwardly and meets Jack's eyes. "As far as what you’re capable of, you can do pretty well anything you want," he tells him. "You've earned that right."

He’s glad that Champ is being so accommodating to him. “I still want to be on standby in case something happens where the young’uns need back up.” Jack tells Champ. “But I was thinkin’ about goin’ back to trainin’.”

“If Ginger’s concerned about keeping you out of the line of fire, we’ll take it slow on your standby status.” There is always the chance of something going wrong, as Jack well knows, but Champ won’t shut him out entirely. He does smile, though, amused by the choice. “But training, huh? After you bitched and moaned about being with the recruits, you wanna school ‘em?”

Jack rolls his eyes, blowing out a sigh and crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back. “Knew you’d give me shit about it.” He grumbles under his breath. The training hadn’t been bad, he’d just chafed at it being someone else’s choice. So he’d bitched on principle. “Gotta make sure the next group doesn’t embarrass the hell outta us.”

“If that’s what you want, I’m not gonna object to you bein’ with the new agents. They could learn a thing or two from somebody with your experience.” For that matter, it didn’t always happen that somebody with Jack’s body of work made it to an age where they could become a trainer at all. They had both expected him to come out of the field in tatters for a reason. “I’ll talk to Merlot. She’s got different specialities than you anyway and you could be a good team as trainers.”

“You good with this?” Jack asks seriously, raising a brow at his old friend and boss. “I’ll still be the damn face of this thing. Everyone else is too ugly.”

“I should make you turn in your title,” Champ reminds him, leaning back in his chair. “Take you out of the field and make somebody else Agent Whiskey.” He doesn’t want to, though, and since he’s in charge he can make that decision himself. “Thing is, I’ve been having my own thoughts about Statesman lately.”

“Yeah?” Jack uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “What are you thinking?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Thinkin’ I’m gettin’ old,” Champ chuckles, topping off both of their glasses and leveling his friend with a serious look. “Got ideas in my head about stepping back, but there wasn’t anyone to trust with runnin’ the place until about five minutes ago.”

Jack’s jaw drops open, never imagining Champ retiring anytime soon. “And someone just came to mind five minutes ago, huh?” He asks, picking up his drink and taking a sip of the smooth whiskey.

"Five minutes, two minutes, I don't know how long ago your stubborn ass strolled in here. I was tryin' to be dramatic." Champ huffs, rolling his eyes at Jack and sipping his drink. "Point is, I was about your age when I stepped up to this post, and I don't fancy wasting my retirement on years where I need help wipin' my ass." He shifts in his seat, drawing up to his fullest height like it was a matter of dignity. And maybe it is. "Things around here are changing, Jack. And as much as I like to pretend I ain't any different than I used to be, I'm movin' a lot slower these days. Now Diana won't be retiring anytime soon and that's fine, but I could. I could step back and let somebody else take this office and I'd be happy as a pig in shit tinkering away in R&D making new weapons for the agents coming in."

“You did make some damn fine weapons.” Jack draws with a smirk. His own whip was Champ’s creation and he was awfully fond of it. “So what you’re sayin’ is that you wanna saddle me with the headache of wranglin’ agents while you drink whiskey and play with toys.”

"Hell yes I do." That makes him laugh, genuinely belly laugh, and Champ sits back again feeling a little more relaxed. "You can say no, Jack. But I don't think I want to hand the mantle of Agent Champagne off to anybody else."

“Those are mighty big fuckin’ boots to fill.” Jack leans back and gauges his old friend’s face. The idea has merit. He’s actually pretty damn good at the administrative side no matter how much it irks him. Probably a little rougher around the edges than Champ, but that’s just due to him still thinking like a field agent. “Let me talk to her?” He asks, knowing that he wouldn’t expect anything less from Jack. “But start having Diana plan your retirement party.”

"I think we'll have a mighty fine new Agent Whiskey." The mischief on Champ's face is obvious, and he knows it'll take some getting used to for everyone but he won't mind leaving his old moniker behind now. Not now that he's got Jack to trust with it.

“And who are you thinkin’ that will be?” Jack’s brow ticks up curiously.

"Don't know if she told you." It would surprise him if it hadn't been mentioned, but things have been a little tumultuous lately, he gathers. "But Sophia applied to be a permanent fixture at Statesman."

“Yeah….” Jack grins. “You want to make the Brit Agent Whiskey?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’ll be just perfect. The next Whiskey’ll run roughshod over Tequila just like I did.”

“What do you want me to do? Gin is already taken.” Both men share a laugh over the irony of the choice, but Champ has to admit that it feels right to him. Sophia is a strong agent who fits into the fabric of Statesman better than some of the damn American recruits they’ve had. She’s got the – as Jack says – roughshod tendencies of a cowboy and the tenacity of six men all packed into one woman. “Go talk to your better half,” he encourages. “I’m gonna look over the list of inactive monikers for myself so you don’t try to make me Iced Tea or some damn thing.”

Jack snorts and tosses back the rest of his drink and slides the glass across the table. “Could always call you Arnold Palmer.” He teases, referencing the concoction of half iced tea, half lemonade.

“Get out,” Champ huffs, shaking his head as he guffaws unapologetically. “While I can still kick ya out, I’m gonna.”

Jack nods and stands, eager to go talk to you and see what you think. He knows you will tell him to do whatever he wants, but he wants to include you in this decision.

******

Being gone for a few days means that things at the restaurant need checking over, but Diana and your staff had things running smoothly enough in your absence. What’s left to do today is the ordering, so you’re hunkered down at your desk with a cup of tea and one of yesterday’s leftover scones to look over the books and make sure that you’ll be getting in what you need for the coming week. Tedious? Maybe. But after the last few days you welcome it.

The smell of your coconut cake cooling hits Jack’s nose as he opens the door, making him groan happily. “Sugar?” He calls out, striding through the empty dining room. “You here?”

“In my office!” You call out, not looking up and grinning when you hear your pastry staff greeting Jack on his way through the kitchen. When he hits your doorway he’s almost beaming and you’re glad to see his meeting with Champ went well. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Daniels?”

“Just wanted to see my sugar, sugar.” He teases, although he may have swiped a tea cake on his way by. The hunger still comes in waves. “And talk to you about somethin’ important.”

“Oh?” Important but not bad, judging from his demeanor. That’s good. “Come on in and shut the door. I could use a break before my eyes cross.”

He dutifully closes the door, but he doesn’t sit. Instead he comes up behind you and rubs your shoulders sympathetically as he peers over at your order. “Paperwork?”

“Weekly order.” You hum, affecting a frown but not feeling it. “So yeah, paperwork in a way.”

“Gotcha.” He smirks when you moan, his fingers digging into a knot right in your shoulders. “So I talked to Champ about the training. But he’s not so sure that’s what he wants me to do.”

“No?” It’s hard to be upset about anything with Jack giving you a massage, but you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. “He wants you to stay in the field? Even with what Ginger said?”

“Nah. He wants to retire.” Jack hums. “He wants me to become Agent Champagne.”

“What?!” Immediately turning around in your chair, you’re gaping at Jack with your mouth wide open at how casually he says it. “H—he just…can he do that? Do you even want that??” It’s never been anything that he had discussed with you, and you have to wonder if this is just something that happens every few decades or if Champ and Jack really are so close that one man would just hand it off to the next like this. Like a plane dropping out of midair without warning.

“Champ came out of the field and took the role when he was my age.” Jack admits, shuffling over and perching on the edge of your desk. “I already did a lot of paperwork as the senior field agent, so it will be more administrative. Handling the agents and assigning missions.” He explains. “Champ wants to tinker in R&D again – where he worked best – and turn the day to day over to me.”

“Baby…” Sitting back, you can’t help but take in the way Jack seems to downright glow with this new development. He’s bursting at the seams with pride and grinning like a madman and you can see the excitement rolling off him in waves. “You look excited. If this is what you want to do – taking this big promotion and being in charge of it all? It’s your decision, and I’m one hundred percent behind whatever you decide.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” He rolls his eyes playfully and leans in. “Are you sure? That means I’m home all the time.”

“Is that supposed to deter me?” You grin back, ticking one eyebrow up at him. “Getting to see my fiancé isn’t a chore, ya know.”

“You say that now but you might get tired of me.” Jack chuckles again and leans in to kiss you. “So that’s a yes? To becoming the old man in the whiskey bottle?”

“Honestly?” You look up at him seriously, accepting a second kiss when he leans in again. “You’re gonna be home instead of out there with your neck on the line. We can have nights and weekends, we can plan vacations, and we can have a stable environment for the kids when they eventually are born. As long as you’re happy, it sounds pretty perfect to me.”

“Picture perfect, sugar.” Jack winks and presses his lips to yours. “You’re gunna have your happily ever after.” He murmurs against your lips. “Starting on your next day off.”

“The very next one, huh?” He’s excited, and his kisses have an addictive quality like this that you just can’t deny. “We gonna celebrate?”

“Figured we could.” He smirks at you and lifts a brow. “Scheduled us both some appointments.”

“Appointments?” Ah, this is the other reason he’s excited. “What are you treating us to, Agent Champagne?”

“Well, since I will officially not be going back in the field…” Jack shrugs, wondering if you will love or hate the idea. “I figured we could put that ink back on your pretty skin.”

“Jack.” It hadn’t even occurred to you, but he’s right. If he’s taken a desk job – for lack of a better term – then there is no reason to not have that mark returned to your arm. But the fact that he thought of it so immediately is so sweet you could cry. “Are you sure?”

“Appointments are booked.” Jack confirms, raising his brows. “Unless you want to wait?” He asks, unsure if maybe your own perception of him wearing your marks have changed since New York.

“No, no, I don’t.” You promise him quickly. “I want to have our marks back. I just wanted to be sure that it’s what you want, too.”

“Sugar….” Jack picks up your arm and turns it over so he can press his lips to the patch of skin above your elbow where the tattoo used to sit. “I want to wear your marks. Every one of them.”

The smile you shoot at him is mischievous and you squeeze his hand. “Does that mean I can get more?” You tease.

His eyes widen and he looks scared for a moment. “Where?”

“Nowhere that’s going to hurt.” Or hurt worse, anyway. “But I had always planned on having my family’s names on me somewhere, when I eventually met my soulmate or had kids on my own.”

“So I would wear my own name?” He tilts his head and snickers. “People will accuse me of being a narcissist.”

“I had a plan for a little family tree…” you explain, starting to feel silly about the whole thing. “We don’t have to, honey. It was a long ago thought and it’s more than enough that you’re okay with having my playing card back.”

“I’m teasing you.” Jack promises, grinning. “Where do you want to put it?”

“O-on my thigh.” Your hand goes to the place automatically, tracing where you had thought the roots of the tree would sit. “So this is what it’s gonna be like, huh?” If he is going to tease you, you’re going to tease him right back. “You’re gonna have to burn off all that energy you would use chasing bad guys by teasing me?”

“That or keep you tied to the bed with my lasso.” Jack hums. Actual restraints haven’t been used so far but you’ve talked about that little fantasy and how you still want to try it when you are ready.

“Adventures in baby making,” you joke with a smirk. “I’m not going to be mad about more sex.”

“Want to make a baby in my new office?” He waggles his brows playfully.

“I kinda always wondered how sturdy that desk is.” It’s playful now, the easy joking and teasing, and you lean in to brush the tip of his nose with yours. “I also wonder how sturdy my desk is.”

“Hmmm we will have to find that out.” Jack hums. Later. He still hasn’t even popped wood yet and if Ginger hadn’t put him through a full physical earlier, he would be worried.

“I guess we will.” It’s nothing to pressure him about, but you do steal another kiss. “I’m having dinner with Sophia tonight to talk about wedding things. Maybe we can have dinner to celebrate your promotion tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, sugar.” Jack murmurs softly. “If you want, I can get something from Ginger to…help things?” He asks. It’s embarrassing as hell; but he would do it if his fingers or his tongue aren’t enough.

“I don’t mind waiting, baby. I promise.” After all, recovering from an injury takes time. And his injuries were severe. “Just be prepared for me to want to ride my cowboy when you’re feeling up to it.”

“It wouldn’t take long if my traitorous cock would listen to my mind and heart.” Jack huffs. His lack of sex drive has nothing to do to his attraction to you, you’re still gorgeous to him. Sexy and appealing.

“We have all the time in the world.” It’s actually a relief, of sorts, to think that Jack will stay home and safe. That you will have all the time in the world. “No reason to rush.”

“I just don’t want you thinkin’ I don’t want you.” Jack admits quietly.

“I don’t think that.” Your voice softens, hearing the confession, and you place both of your hands on his knees. “We’ve both been through hell lately, physically. It’s not so bad for us to rest a little before we go back to our favorite cardio routine.”

“Good.” He’s relieved that you don’t believe that. Closing his eyes and smiling softly. “We did pack a lot of sex into a small window, didn’t we?”

“As often as humanly possible,” you snicker in amusement. “We got every room in the house pretty quickly.”

“He better work before we move.” Jack grunts. “That’s a lot of rooms to christen.”

That makes you sit back again, and you tilt your head at him. “We’re moving?”

“The house comes with the title, sugar.” Jack realizes you don’t know. “Diana and Champ will move into another, smaller house and we will move into theirs.”

“Damn…” You shake your head, offering him an impressed expression and squeezing his thighs gently with both hands. “So someone else will take over as Senior Field Agent and CEO, and you’ll take over as Director and Owner.”

“It’s weird to think about, but yeah.” Jack chuckles as he realizes that’s what his titles would be.

"For what it's worth, I'm proud of you." Both thumbs rub soft, reassuring circles on his jeans just above his knees. "Being the right person to run Statesman is no small achievement."

“I hope I can do him justice.” Jack admits, flashing you a smile. “For all his laid back attitude, Champ is a hell of a boss. I hope to be the same.”

******

For all the big and small changes, for all the adjustments and moving and settling in, spring turned to summer with grace. Tourist traffic ramped up, the restaurant got busier, and the demands of Jack’s new position all kept you both busy until suddenly it was time for Tex and Sophia to get married. It seemed to sneak up on you all at once, and yet nothing was too rushed or too unprepared.

A beautiful ceremony in the converted barn became a reception that seemingly spilled out over every inch of the campus, with twinkling lights and cheerful music filling the late June night. The towering green geode wedding cake you made them was a beast to cut, but you return to Jack’s side triumphantly with two plates after conquering the giant confection. “Dessert is served,” you announce with a grin, having slipped a slice of the key lime cheesecake that he and Sophia both adore onto your plates alongside the caramel apple flavored cake.

“God.” Jack groans, snatching up his fork. “I love your cakes.” He moans as he forks up a bite of the cheesecake.

“I think I’m going to make our wedding cake,” you tell him, glad that his mouth is full and he can’t immediately object. “They’re big and they’re showy and they’re fun.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asks, unsure of if that is the best idea. He knows that planning a wedding is stressful.

“I won’t do it alone. I’ll have an assistant for it, and if I get overwhelmed, I’ll have them finish it for me.” Truth be told, you’ve barely started nailing down the planning for your own wedding, having spent the last two months focusing on Tex and Sophia’s emerald paradise. “But I’d like to do something with my own two hands for the day, if I can.”

“Sugar, it’s whatever you want.” Jack promises. “The wedding of the new Director of Statesman is a big deal after all. You make it as fancy or as homey as you want. Long as you marry me, I’m good as gold.”

His promotion and Rick Rogers’ retirement has been big news, and though Jack hasn’t adopted Champ as a nickname the way his predecessor did, he is still easily recognizable as the big man on campus. “Between Diana and me, planning will be a breeze. All you boys will have to do is show up.”

“Well, that’s a damn relief.” Jack snorts with a grin, forking up a bite of the cake to feed to you. “Is this the kind of cake you want at your wedding? Or do you want a giant coconut cake?”

“I think it has to be coconut cake, don’t you?” It’s a family favorite and Jack’s favorite, so it seems like the logical answer. “But I think our alternate dessert should have whiskey in it. Just because.”

“What about a chocolate whiskey cake? With strawberries.” Jack offers. “Or…we have whiskey and coconut cream shooters to go with the cake?”

“Would you want a groom’s cake?” It’s not something you’d discussed yet, but it has a distinct charm to it. “You could have a chocolate groom’s cake with whiskey caramel buttercream? Or something like that.”

“You tryin’ to seduce me all over again, sugar?” Jack groans, rolling his eyes dramatically at the thought of that cake. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have that too. Although I would want to save a piece for later on to share with you.”

“We’ll freeze a little bit of each for our anniversary.” It was something your parents always talked about having done, and you had thought it was such a sweet way to honor the day — pun very much intended. “How about that?”

“We’ll need to store it good.” Jack chuckles. “Otherwise it’ll be freezer burnt.” His cake with Abigail had been, and they had each taken one bite before spitting it out and laughing at how horrible it tasted. “Have you decided when?” He asks softly, wearing a small smirk. “So I know when you want to start tryin’ for that first little cowboy?”

“If it gets freezer burnt, I’ll make cupcakes,” you promise him with a grin. “I…I was thinking spring? A nice, long engagement so we can plan with the least possible stress.”

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help wherever you want to me.” He doesn’t expect you to plan the entire thing yourself. “And I’ve already got half our honeymoon planned.”

“Oh yeah?” That has you smiling a little more broadly and raising an eyebrow at him as you fork up a bite of caramel apple cake to feed him. “But we didn’t pick out where we’d go for a spring wedding.”

“Well damn, we didn’t.” Jack sends you an amused glance. “So where am I keeping you in bed for half the day?”

“You tell me,” you smirk at him. “Since you already have it half planned, apparently.”

He thinks about it for a moment and grins. “South America. Brazil, Chile, Peru, Argentina.” He decides. “How does that sound?”

There’s a momentary pause where you practically vibrate in your chair as you get more and more excited, thinking through how many intricacies of cuisines, gorgeous beaches, and wonderful sights there are in that stunning part of the world. “It sounds amazing!” You squeak, throwing one arm around him tightly. “Suddenly I’m extra glad you won an extra honeymoon week from our bet.”

Jack chuckles and doesn’t miss the opportunity to hold you close and kiss you. He had another surprise for you later. “You like that, huh?”

“Very romantic,” you commend with a hum, happy to be glued to his side. Since his sex drive returned he’s been absolutely insatiable. “Just be ready for me to bargain with every abuelita we meet for their family recipes.”

“I already anticipated that.” Jack chuckles. “I’ve ordered you a ‘Honeymoon Recipe’ book to jot down all the recipes in.”

“Jack Daniels.” There’s awe and gratitude in your voice when you pull back to look him in the eyes. “That might be one of the sexiest things you’ve ever said to me.”

The laugh he lets out draws the attention of quite a few of the guests, but he doesn’t care, pulling you in for a hug. “Sexiest, huh?” He teases. “How worked up will you get if I start readin’ a recipe to ya?”

“Depends what it’s for.” Practically in his lap at your table, you smirk at him and leave a kiss on his cheek. “Chocolate mousse is a lot sexier than oatmeal.”

“If I hadn’t promised you a dance, I would be sweet talking you out of here with the recipe for lemon curd.” He teases.

“Okay, but lemon curd is actually deceptively easy—” You start in, completely in earnest, only catching yourself when he smirks at you. “I was supposed to hone in on the dancing and sweet talking part of that and not the recipe, wasn’t I?”

“Yes you were, sugar.” Jack chuckles again and stands up, holding out his hand to you. “Come dance with me and you can tell me all about the lemon curd you’re gonna add to the menu.”

The band is playing something slow, and you abandon your table and empty dessert plates happily to take his hand. Any dance with Jack is a good one, but something romantic is even better. “I have been thinking about it,” you laugh, letting him pull you into his arms on the dance floor.

“I figured.” Jack hums, smiling at you. “There’s been a hundred pounds of lemons in our kitchen.”

“The privilege of having a chef for a soulmate is getting to be a taste tester,” you remind him, Batting your eyelashes as though it takes convincing for him to agree.

“As long as you make me some lemon pancakes.” Jack hums. “With honey butter.”

“Is that what you want for breakfast tomorrow?” Swaying in his arms is such a safe place that you soften and giggle without a thought for anything else in the world. “I can do that.”

“That sounds good and brunchy, doesn’t it?” Jack muses. “Because I have every intention of not letting you out of the bed until at least noon.”

“Oh, is that so?” It sounds perfect, and a generous way to spend the morning after your close friends’ wedding. They’ll be jetting off to Tahiti and you’ll be snug in Jack’s arms in bed. “In that case I’m making sausage, too. Sounds like we’ll need our strength,” you tease with a wink.

“We need to strategize our baby making routine.” Jack teases, leaning in and nuzzling his nose against your neck. “Want to make sure we have it perfected for when you go off the birth control.”

“Put the man behind a desk and suddenly life is full of missions.” It makes things feel like little adventures, though, which you can’t object to.

“So you don’t want me to show you the sexy little plug I got you?” Jack asks, lifting a brow as he pulls away to see your reaction.

"You–" That is a very unexpected thing for him to say, and you can't help the way you smirk when you raise an eyebrow at him. "Are we talking anal plug or pussy plug? I'm in either way, I'm just curious."

“Well now that you say that…” Jack jokes. “I was talkin’ about a pussy plug, but I see I need to go back to that store.”

"Maybe we should go together." It's certainly something you haven't done before, and would probably lead to rampant fucking for the rest of the day afterward, so it sounds like a damn good plan to you.

He smirks and winks at you. “I think we should do that, sugar. But we don’t need to worry about whips or lassos.” He teases. “I’ve got that covered.”

"Yes, you definitely do." The bedroom-approved ones are definitely different from the ones that hang in his office every day, but they are much more fun for being that much less dangerous. "And I'm a very big fan of how well you use them."

Things have become a little more adventurous where restraints are concerned. After talking about it in therapy, safe words and the light system were put into place so you could feel secure in exploring that with Jack. He made sure to constantly check in with you, not wanting you to have any sort of pressure to push past things and do it for him. “You feelin’ like usin’ ‘em tonight?”

"We could do that." Adventurous sex on somebody else's wedding night sounds perfect, actually, and you lean in a little closer to kiss the sensitive skin on the edge of his jaw. "Might even dodge a noise complaint with our neighbors at this party all night long."

“It’s always funny to me.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Means they are envious.”

"We should see if we can't find Joe a date now and then," you smirk, barely holding back a giggle. Agent Rye had taken up the mantle of Senior Field Agent and Statesman CEO at Jack's insistence, and that meant that he had moved into your old house next door.

“Man should be able to find his own dates.” Jack huffs playfully. “Don’t understand.”

The song has changed, but it's still sweet and slow so you and Jack have just kept swaying together. "Not everybody is as effortlessly charming and handsome as you are, baby."

“Wondering if Rye might not be the relationship type.” Jack hums, looking over at where he was sitting and talking to Sophia’s parents.

"Maybe not. That's okay, too." The man may have helped save your life in New York, but you were really only just getting to know him now. "But maybe we'll make sure there are plenty of eligible ladies and gentlemen at the Fourth of July party just in case."

“Absolutely.” Jack thinks that it’s sweet that you want all your friends to be happy in relationships. “I think that’ll be a good idea.”

"Hey..." Reaching up, you brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead and smile softly. He looks so fucking handsome in the moonlight like this, but his hand on your back is barely above your ass and it's got you thinking distinctly private thoughts. "You wanna get out of here, cowboy?"

His grin is quick and dirty, nodding eagerly. “Yes ma’am.” He drawls. “I’ve gotta pretty girl to make scream my name.”

"She's a very lucky girl." You grin at him before you both slip off the dance floor to retrieve your things from your table. "Lucky and very excited."

“We’ll see how excited you are when you are begging me for a break.” Jack swats your ass playfully and winks at the bride and groom as they glance over at you.

Sophia laughs, seeing you jump a second after Jack winks, and she knows he must have smacked your ass just the same way that Tex likes to do to her. She only waves, looking up to her newly minted husband to whisper to him that you and Jack are leaving, and Tex gives the same small gesture as Sophia. The small acknowledgement between you is enough. It's permission to slip away and thanks, and you put your hand to your heart before waving back one more time and scurrying away with Jack.

Even though the house isn’t too far away, Jack had still brought the Bronco. Not wanting you to walk too far in heels or have to mess up your hair or makeup on the way to the wedding. Now it makes for the prime getaway vehicle.

You hop into the Bronco and giggle gleefully as Jack peels out of the parking lot with you tucked into his side like teenagers sneaking away from the school to go find some privacy. The whole five minutes it will take you to drive home is still five minutes of being fully clothed around each other and right now that feels like an awfully long time.

Tonight, Jack has plans. The romance of the day isn't lost on him and he wants to make sure that you are fully aware of how much he loves you. The weeks that it took for his libido to catch back up with his brain had been much like your days recovering, lots of intimate moments without being physical, but he wants to leave you limp with pleasure tonight. Especially since he was made to swear he wouldn't touch you before the reception in an effort to not make you late or ruin your look.

The giddiness in the air doesn’t dissipate as Jack pulls into the driveway. The day has been exciting and joyful and the night is no exception, though not that you and Jack are alone again the excitement is more akin to electricity. Jack bounds out of the Bronco and rushes around the hood, not wanting you to open the door yourself. You smirk at him, about to comment over what a gentleman he is when he reaches up and scoops you out of the seat and tosses you over his shoulder.

Your squeak is music to his ears, delighted and eager, and you hang onto his shoulder for dear life as he carries you into the house. Something gives your feeling that slow and steady lovemaking is out of the question for tonight, and that is just fine with you.

“Been teasin’ me all damn day in this dress.” Jack growls, slapping your ass as he kicks open the door to the bedroom.

"You say that like I picked it." Of course you might not have, but Sophia was the one who picked the lowest cut neckline for your bridesmaid dress and the swing-style skirt that showed off your legs while you danced. Of course you didn't choose it yourself, but you certainly didn't argue with the choice, knowing that Jack would love it.

Jack huffs. “You poured yourself into it, didn’t you?” He demands, tossing you down on the bed and shucking his tux jacket.

"Just for you, baby," you promise him, giggling grin turning into a hungry moan as Jack starts pulling at his shirt.

Jack smirks, slowing his hands down until he is barely slipping a button from its snug resting place. "You want me naked, sugar?" He asks, voice dipping down low.

"Now who's the tease?" The fingers about to remove your jewelry and the shimmering belt from the waist of your dress pause in challenge and the smirk returns to your lips. "I'd rather not damage your tux, cowboy, but it's coming off you one way or another."

"Oh really?" Jack chuckles and slips another button free, finally completely unbuttoning his shirt so he can work on his cufflinks. "I think one day I'd like to see you tear my clothes off."

"I came pretty close a few weeks ago." Jack's healing had kept you cooling your heels for a while, which was fine. He needed the time to regain his strength and feel like himself again. But you had pretty much pounced on him the morning he had finally woken up with morning wood again.

"I've never seen you sink down on my cock quite so quickly...." Jack teases, winking at you. "Or that desperately. It's like you like having me buried deep and throbbing inside you or something."

"You're fucking right I do." Dropping your earrings and belt on your nightstand, you sit up on your knees and reach behind you to pull the zipper on your dress. "Best feeling in the world."

"Yeah?" Jack tosses the cufflinks into the small tray where he keeps his watch and glasses, hitting it perfectly. He sheds the shirt to reveal his chest, smooth and whole without any scars to remind you of his near death experience.

"Yeah." It barely even matters for you to shrug out of the thin straps of your dress, but slipping out of it lets your arms free to reach for him and that's what you care about right now. You never miss the opportunity to press a kiss over his heart anymore, knowing that you came so very close to never being able to again.

The moment softens slightly and Jack reaches for your hands, hold them in his before the lace under your dress captures his attention. "What is this?" Jack asks.

"Oh, this old thing?" The smirk returns to your lips full force as you step off the bed, letting the dress slip off your body and pool on the floor around your feet. Sophia may have chosen the dress, but you hand selected the lacy corset bra and matching panties underneath just for Jack to have as a treat. "They're just something I had lying around," you tease. "Why? You like them?"

"Fuck, sugar." Jack whistles, his cock violently twitching in his pants. "It looks like it's our wedding night and you are dressed to give your new husband a heart attack." The tea length white dresses had looked amazing against the bride's emerald green wedding dress and all in all, it had been a beautiful wedding.

"Oohhh no," you turn in place for him to see the whole thing, and make sure to shake your hips at him for good measure. "What I have on under my dress at our wedding is going to be a whole lot skimpier, I promise."

"So I'm hauling you directly from the wedding to the honeymoon suite?" Jack groans, reaching down and palming himself as he tries to unbuckle his belt one handed.

"We can always slip off for a quickie while people are at cocktails and the photographer is with the wedding party." Smacking his hand away, you have his belt open and pulled free of his pants in ten seconds. "I'm sure we wouldn't be the first newlyweds to need to fuck immediately after their vows."

The second your fingers brush his throbbing cock, it's like a switch has been thrown. In one quick move Jack grabs your hands, lifting them over your head and twisting your body back down onto the bed in the blink of an eye. The motion absorbing bed is the only reason you don't bounce and it keeps you firmly in his clutches.

"Fuck!" It takes you off guard but the curse comes on a moan as you twist to look at him over your shoulder. "You like them that much, baby?"

He doesn't answer, letting go of your wrists and gripping the lace corset in his hands, not even bothering with the small eyelets as he pulls it apart with his bare hands.

"Shit, Jack!" If you hadn't fully wanted this reaction and worn favorite lingerie instead of a new set just for him, you might be upset to lose the corset, but frankly the animalistic reaction is exactly what you were hoping to get from him and you end up whimpering and pushing your ass back toward him instead of making any protest at all.

His hands come down on the globes of your ass, making a crack ring out around the bedroom. Along with your gasping moan of delight. The thin line of material down the crack of your ass is where he grabs, shredding them in his hands and pulling the material out from under you to fling behind him. "Fuck."

You push up on your hands and knees and rock backward, nudging your ass against him so his cock slides along your skin, shivering at the sensation. "I'm wet enough," you promise him, practically panting at the thought. "Every time you fucking looked at me tonight it was like a flood in those tiny little panties."

"Good." He groans, reaching for your hips as his cock slides through your soaked folds. You are wet. "I'm going to make sure that you feel me, sugar." He vows. "Every inch."

The warm thickness of his cock makes your eyelids flutter and you push back again, intending to make him live up to that promise tonight. "You want me just like this, baby?" At some point tonight you fully intend to ride your cowboy, but the way he fucks you into the mattress from behind is a feeling that just can't be compared.

"Yes." Jack growls, snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt into you and propelling both of you into the bed.

"FUCK." Your back bows and cheek hits the comforter, arms buckling under you with no chance of holding you up while Jack pushes you down into the bedding with a great groan. Like this it feels like his cock has reached all the way into your chest, and you keen at the feeling of his throbbing inside you. It's so fucking good and all he did was push inside.

"Perfect." Jack grunts out, grinding into you before he pulls his hips back. He wants to make tonight as rowdy as a rodeo on a Friday night in a country town. "Fuckin' perfect." His next thrust is just as powerful, just as harsh as he pushes back into you, stealing your breath and pushing the sexiest little whine out of your mouth.

"Make me feel it." The challenge comes out with a moan, already certain without a doubt that that's his goal. "For days, baby. Wanna still feel your cock when I'm on the line tomorrow."

Smirking, Jack slaps your ass as he pulls his hips back and sets out to do just that. The pace he sets is brutal. Bone jarring and there isn't time to think, draw a breath or even cry out as he hammers into you as if he was on a mission. In his mind, he is. Watching the way your body absorbs the impact of his thrusts and feeling the way your walls flutter around his drilling length.

It's gloriously brutal, unforgiving in a way that has you clawing at the blankets and hanging on for dear life as he takes what he wants with every single thrust. There's no faltering in his pace and no indication that he has any intention of letting up, and if you could form a coherent thought you would be babbling praise and even begging him for more. Whatever he's willing to give, you'll take it. This night is going to have your eyes watering and mascara streaking down your cheeks and it's worth every second.

As he beats himself into you, hoping to reach your womb, he thinks about how he would get you pregnant. Filling you up and letting it take. He hadn’t realized how amazing it could be when he had done it the first time around. He wants to make sure he appreciates every step of the way in this journey.

With as fast and furious as he's fucking himself into you it only makes sense that your first orgasm hits you like a battering ram, slamming into your body with so much force that your scream cracks on its way out of your throat, crumbling into a whimpering keen that only vaguely resembles his name. Your pussy locks down around him temporarily, flooding his cock with liquid pleasure and making the next thrust squelch pornographically.

Groaning is the only response Jack had to your orgasm. His pace never falters for a single second. The obscene sounds of his cock working in and out of you get louder, more satisfying, but he wants more. He needs it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck–" There is nothing stopping him tonight and you swear if you had known he would be this dedicated to the task tonight you would have stretched. There's nothing to do but take it, as he keeps you pinned down under his bulk with both hands holding you tight enough that if you find permanent indentations there in the morning you won't be the least bit surprised.

He doesn’t want to cum again and not be able to see your face. Pulling out of you abruptly, he grabs your hips to roll you over onto your back. His long hands circle your ankles, pulling one leg up onto his shoulder and plunging back into you so sharply and abruptly that you cry out. The little bit of pain that comes with him thrusting with so much force only adds to the pleasure and your back arches all over again with the new angle.

One leg isn’t enough, he can’t get deep enough to satisfy him. He pulls your other leg up onto his shoulder and starts to press down. Folding you in half as he drills down, filling you up at the same harsh pace as before. His sweat rolls down his forehead but he just watches the way you buck under him.

It's like he's doing push-ups on top of you and somehow that image just makes it even sexier, letting your head fall back onto the sheets as the crumpled blankets slip further down the bed. Groans and growls rumble out of his chest. Gritting his teeth harshly and somehow, his pace picks up. Making him rock his hips even faster as his cock plunges in and out of you.

The night dissolves around you with sounds of pleasure mixing into the celebratory air. The lights in your bedroom are bright behind the drawn curtains and let you watch every bulging, straining muscle on Jack's body. All but the one throbbing inside you, making you cry out with each and every flick of his hips.

It’s almost unhinged, the pace that he’s thrusting into you. Nearly pushing you up the bed, Jack fucks into you like it’s his last night on earth. “Love—” he groans, feeling his body starting to tense and for the first time since sliding inside you, his pace stutters. “You.”

"I–fuck–love you, too." His eyes roll back when his pace breaks, and if you had any leverage at all you would roll him onto his back and ride him until every last drop of him was spent inside you. This is Jack's show tonight, though, and you reach above your head to brace yourself against the headboard so you don't hit your head.

Only two more thrusts later and he’s gone, pushing as deep as he can and shouting your name. Body jerking as he starts to empty himself inside you. Your body shatters on the heels of his seeming explosion, and you shake with the force of cumming a second time. Every wave of pleasure is your cunt clenching down on him that much tighter, drawing him deeper into your body and holding him there like it's trying to fuse you together permanently.

Heaving over you, Jack makes sure every drop of his cum pushes inside you. Flooding your womb and with the last twitch, he sighs, nearly drunk on pleasure.

"Fucking hell," you groan, head falling back again on the mattress as your body lets go every ounce of tension it had coiled into in the grip of orgasm. There isn't a chance in hell of being able to kiss him like this so you focus on catching on catching your breath, grinning up at him like a madwoman.

“Fuck.” Jack huffs, panting as he slowly takes stock of where his body parts are. His forearms are trembling and he lets your legs fall from his shoulders. “Let me catch my breath and I’ll get off you, sugar.”

"Take your time." There's a giggle in the back of your throat, and you reach up with one heavy arm to brush the damp hair off of his forehead. "I'm just gonna lay here and gaze at you like a lovestruck idiot, if that's okay."

“Gaze away.” Jack chuckles and lets out a winded breath. “Damn, that was a ride. You didn’t buck me though.”

"Never," you promise him. "I'd never buck my favorite stud."

“Wasn’t too rough, was I?” Jack asks with a slight frown on his face. “Swore I saw you wince once.”

"Just once." It's not like you would bother lying about it, when it didn't matter at all. "I think you must have been trying to get past my cervix," you tease.

“Thought that was the way you like it?” Jack still pets your face and kisses you tenderly in apology.

"I absolutely do." But you'll still steal any excuse in the world to kiss him. “Which is why the moaning didn't stop for a single second.” Jack hums, feeling your slight wiggle, indicating it’s time for your bathroom break. It always comes within three minutes of finishing up. "How does a bath sound?" He's started to move off of you with a grunt and you have to go to the bathroom anyway. "Soothe those hard working muscles before bed?"

“That sounds good, sugar.” There’s a high probability that you are suggesting it because you are sore, but Jack climbs to his feet after he pulls out of you and offers you his hand to help you off the bed. “You pee and I’ll run the bath.”

The loss of him makes you moan in the back of your throat, but you lift yourself up with Jack's help and pause for just a moment, wrapping him up in a soft, sweet kiss. "I love you so much," you murmur, leaving a kiss on the tip of his nose as well as his lips. "And I can't wait to marry you."

“Whenever you want.” Jack promises, smiling like he won the damn lottery. His fingers brush over your tattoo that is back in its place of honor on your elbow.

"Maybe tomorrow we'll sit down with a calendar and our lemon pancakes." Finally picking a date would be a big step in the right direction, and you kiss him once more before unraveling yourself from him to go into the bathroom. It was a perfect wedding, and a perfect night afterward. The only one you're looking forward to more is your own.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au

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