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andypantsx3 · 3 years

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vested interest | 5 | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Reader

summary: You’d just thought Shouto was absent minded, accidentally leaving behind a jacket or a sweater or his vest. You didn’t realize this was a thing. (In which Todoroki Shouto—despite his quirk—has zero chill, and uses his clothes to ward off other men.)

length: 19,500 words | 5 chapters

tags: romance, pro hero au, misunderstandings, shouto is a little shit

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, slightly possessive behavior

Halfway through the premiere, you still hadn’t detached yourself from Shouto.

You barely registered the movie playing in front of you, too aware of Shouto pressed all along your side. You were still a little shaken up by the interaction with Hiroji, though Shouto was unwittingly helping you to forget—he’d begun to absently rub small circles into your knee with his thumb, light and comforting. You sat completely unmoving, afraid that any movement might jerk him back into reality and make him realize what he was doing.

Eventually, though, someone behind you gave a loud sneeze, and the motion of Shouto’s thumb on your knee stilled. You mourned its loss immediately.

But then Shouto was leaning towards you, his mouth right at your ear.

“I have an idea,” he said quietly. “Come with me.”

He tugged you up out of your chair, pulling you through the crowds to an empty aisle, keeping low to avoid disturbing the other movie-goers. He pulled you to the back and out through a side entrance, out onto a side street where only two heroes were stationed with a plain-clothes officer, the press still lined up along the red carpet out front. Shouto gave them a nod as you passed, guiding you out onto the street in the opposite direction of the agency car.

“Where are we going?” you wondered, as Shouto led you down the street. His hand was warm where it still circled your wrist.

“Somewhere with considerably less Kitamura,” he said. “I gave an interview, so you shouldn’t have any reservations about skipping the rest.”

“Well, no,” you said honestly. “But Shouto, we don’t have to bail. I promise I’m fine—I told you I’m pretty over Hiroji.”

Shouto hummed low in his throat. “I don’t doubt it. But I do not like how he spoke with you, and I did not care to be in the same room with him any longer.”

You squirmed, embarrassed that Shouto had apparently heard everything. It had been obvious by how he’d swooped in that he’d heard at least some of it, but you didn’t like to think of him hearing Hiroji’s accusations that you were also a worthless manager, in addition to a loveless little wretch. You knew you weren’t, and you knew Shouto wasn’t the type to keep people around if they weren’t working out, but it still smarted to have heard it put so plainly.

Shouto led you down a couple of winding blocks at a sedate pace. It was late, and the sky had darkened to a starless black, underscored by the rosy haze of city light pollution. The air was cool and still, and you were glad for the thick fabric of your dress, and Shouto’s jacket still pulled over you. Eventually, Shouto tugged you around one last corner, and you suddenly recognized where you were.

A tiny, cramped looking kushikatsu stall stood at the end of a row of other street food vendors. Across the sidewalk, a bright alleyway was lined with all manner of vending machines, and the light illuminated one tiny grandmother who was serving up two golden-brown skewers to a pair of drunken college boys, her face deeply lined in wrinkles.

You knew her immediately. This was the stall that Shouto met Deku at weekly, and that grandmother was the woman, the legend, the Kushikatsu Lady—scourge of the press, and the star of some of the most terrifying youtube footage you had ever witnessed. Her face was hard, and she looked more like a prison warden than a street food vendor, but her visage brightened when she saw Shouto. She gestured him over with a big wave.

“Well don’t you look handsome tonight,” she said, reaching out a hand to scrub through his hair. “Where’s the other one?”

Shouto inclined his head. “I’m afraid Midoriya is otherwise occupied this evening,” he said politely. “I’ve brought a back up.”

The old lady looked over at you, her sharp eyes assessing you with all the severity of a military tactician. Her words were soft when she addressed you, however. “Traded up for a prettier model, eh? You must be Shouto’s Y/N.”

You startled, surprised that she knew your name. You carefully ignored the implications of the phrase Shouto’s Y/N. “I’m happy to meet you—Shouto says you’ve got the best kushikatsu in all of Japan.”

She made a clucking noise in the back of her throat. It was impossible to tell if she was scoffing or embarrassed.

“We’re going to need a lot of kushikatsu,” Shouto informed her seriously, and she chuckled.

“I don’t know where you put it all, boy,” she said, then gestured him away to one of the cramped, oily little tables pushed up along the side of the stall. “Go on, get. I’ll bring it over when it’s done.”

Thoroughly dismissed, Shouto gave you a wry look, and led you over to a table, pulling out the stool for you like it was a chair at a royal banquet, and not a seat of questionable integrity in some random back alley of Tokyo. You grinned, pleased at how well Shouto knew you.

Dressed up like a princess but all you really wanted was hot food and a friend.

“I’ll be right back,” Shouto said over your shoulder as he pushed you in. You heard the tap of his dress shoes on the pavement as he walked off briskly. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling of the cool night air on your face, the greasy scent of frying street food, and the quiet chatter of the few people out on the street as they passed. You hadn’t thought you’d needed to leave the premiere, but it was nice to be away from things, out here on your own with just Shouto. A sigh of relief slipped out of you, and you realized you’d been holding yourself tight without knowing it.

You didn’t know how, but Shouto had caught it, even when you had not.

The hero in question was back in barely a few minutes, setting down two paper cups and a green glass bottle that you recognized as sake. It made a dull thunk where it met the table.

You laughed. “Drinking away my sorrows?”

Shouto hummed. “Celebrating a victory, I should think.” His leg brushed yours as he settled himself into the tiny table. “Natsuo says this is...procedure after running into an ex.”

Natsuo may have had very questionable ideas about what constituted an appropriate interaction with the media, but he was fairly on the money here. You grinned, already reaching for the cups and the sake. You handed Shouto his before taking your own.

“To victory then,” you laughed.

Shouto’s eyes were bright where they watched you from over the rim of his cup.

You’d poured a little too much sake into the cups to start with, and it was dry in your mouth as you swallowed it down, but it quickly did its job. You felt it loosening you up almost instantly, and you found yourself easing back into your chair, sipping carefully.

Shouto kept up a stream of conversation you could tell was meant to distract you, detailing some of his and Deku’s escapades here, and several close encounters between the kushikatsu grandma and the press. After your second cup, you were feeling relaxed enough that you wiped your lipstick off on a napkin, and stashed all your jewelry away in your bag, happy to be rid of all your trappings. You even kicked off your heels under the table, and didn’t even jump all that much when Shouto wedged a foot under yours—to stop your toes from touching the cold pavement, he explained.

God, he was so good.

Not long after that, the old lady came over bearing a small mountain of golden-brown skewers, with steam curling off of them. The kushikatsu smelled hot and fatty and exactly like the kind of thing you needed right now, though you had serious concerns about the enormous portion. It was just as good as it looked, though, soft diced pork with thick slices of vegetables, and you could see why customers took their lives into their hands to come to this grandma's stall in particular.

Once he’d judged you had enough hot food and sake in you, Shouto seemed to decide it was safe to circle back to the topic of Hiroji, and leaned forward to catch your eye.

As if you had been able to look anywhere else the whole night.

“I do not like the way he spoke with you, earlier,” Shouto said. “I had not realized you’d parted on such terms.”

You sighed, scratched a resigned fingernail across the table. “It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that I should talk to you about.”

Shouto’s foot shifted under yours. “I would like to hear the whole story, if you don’t mind.”

You looked back up at him, to see he was watching you as intently as always. With his hair swept back off his face, he looked even more handsome than ever, and his gaze almost seemed sharper, more focused without his fringe in the way.

“It’s....embarrassing,” you said slowly.

You would not have even considered telling it, normally, but the combination of sake and the way Shouto was looking at you was doing weird things to you, making you want to tell him things you might never usually say.

Shouto said nothing, just waited patiently for you to continue.

Eventually you sighed again. “Hiroji broke up with me...because of you,” you said. “Kind of.”

A red eyebrow went up.

“He started to get really insecure about my successes compared to his,” you explained. “You were approaching the top five, and Monoma was not. We spent a lot of time digging into my management methodology versus his and he got frustrated with it all. It got to the point where any time I would tell him about something you achieved, he would stalk out of the room. When you finally hit the top five, I made the mistake of mentioning it, and he freaked.”

Across the table, Shouto’s features shifted into something indecipherable. You watched him curiously but he said nothing.

“Anyway, he told me, ‘If you’re so in love with Shouto then he can have you,’ and that was basically the end of things,” you said. “He moved out the next week.”

Shouto seemed like he was having a hard time keeping his features still, and you slowly began to recognize that he was trying not to look too smug about something. You raised your eyebrows at him, disbelievingly.

“Are you happy about this?” you asked.

Shouto’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “‘If you’re so in love with Shouto then he can have you,’” he echoed, slowly, like he was tasting the words in his mouth. There was something definitely smug in his tone, though you didn’t know why it pleased him so much.

Your face went hot, realizing how Hiroji’s accusation must have sounded. Nowadays it was hitting a little too close to home, and hearing Shouto say it made it a million times worse. Especially when he was looking at you the way he was, looking as dashing as he did right now.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, eager to move on from that admission. “It was an awful thing to say, and he’s awful for begrudging me my success, but I understand him on some level. He’s hardworking, and our management methodologies aren’t really that different. You were already on your way up the ranks before I started working with you, so I really did get lucky more than anything—”

Shouto made a noise of disagreement, and a cool hand seized your wrist, startling you.

“Kitamura is wrong,” he said. “As are you.”

You blinked at him.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face. “I owe much to my schooling and to my father. I was already somewhat publicly visible because of them. But I would not have made it to the top five nearly as quickly if you had not been there to push me.”

Your fingers curled and you squirmed a little, already embarrassed, but Shouto continued.

“I do not always see the value in things,” he said quietly. “But you do. I would never have put in appearances at events, as you have me do, and so I would not have been as well-known. I would not have agreed to ad shoots, or the fan events, or anything like it. And then I would not have the budget needed to grow the agency and continue hiring other heroes.”

He looked a little angry, then, and his fingers flashed cold on your wrist. “Maybe Kitamura is as good as you say, and maybe it is bad luck he works with Monoma. But you are the one I chose to hire, and all my successes since I owe to you. He has no right to make you believe otherwise.”

Another hot swell of helpless affection for him churned in your gut, and you looked down at the table, cheeks warm. He was always so, so good. So thoughtful, so straightforward, and so inherently good. No wonder everyone in the universe was basically in love with him, most especially you.

You had it bad, now more than ever, and it was all you could do not to lean across the table and drag him into a kiss.

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said gratefully, shooting him a grin. “Maybe for that, I’ll even consider avoiding shoots with Magma Girl in the future.”

Shouto gave you a flat look. “She won’t be a problem again.”

That was not the tune he’d been singing at the photoshoot, but then again, she had walked away like they had settled something between them. Whatever Shouto had done with the temperature had seemed to act like a deterrent.

“Why is that?” you asked.

And it was then that he dropped the bomb.

“Because,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, “She is aware I am interested in someone else now.”

Your heart slammed to a halt in your chest.

A bright spot of pain lanced through your ribs, like a javelin to your heart. Shouto was interested in someone. Shouto was interested in someone, enough to make it clear to Magma Girl, of all people, and here you had been, so wrapped up in your own shit that you hadn’t even noticed.

So wrapped up in your stupid fucking crush on him, that it came as a horrible shock to hear he wanted someone else.

Of course he had someone he was interested in, and it was stupid of you to have not considered that. That explained why he wasn’t into Magma Girl, why he wasn’t into any of the people you pushed at him. He probably had found someone just as beautiful and kind and interesting as he was, and you hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even been mentally prepared for what that was actually going to feel like.

God, some manager you were. Some friend.

Frantically attempting to school your features into a mask of disaffect, you garbled out, “O-oh? Wow. Oh my gosh congrats, Shouto! What a lucky girl. Who is she?”

Shouto watched you for a long minute, his fingers shifting on your wrist. You jumped, remembering you still had your hand shoved at him like some kind of clingy barnacle, and pulled it back out of his hold, face burning.

Shouto’s grip tightened before you could, however, and his eyebrows went up again.

“You don’t know,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question.

Okay so it was kind of bad of you to not have noticed. You hoped he would forgive you. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I do? I, um, would love to meet her though, whenever you’re ready…”

Shouto leaned in closer across the table and your breath stilled in your lungs. You reached down to pinch your thigh under the table, trying to get a grip on yourself. He was about to tell you he was in love with somebody else, and here you were getting all shy and wide eyed like an enamored school girl.

Cool, you could be cool.

“‘If you’re so in love with Shouto then he can have you,’” Shouto repeated, his mouth curling into that pleased little upturn again. “I hope that, for once, Kitamura got at least one thing right. As I would indeed very much like to have you.”

You froze, staring at him.

Had you...had you literally just hallucinated?

You didn’t think the thought of him owning up to his love for someone else would really be enough to push you over the edge and into hallucinations. But you had to make sure. He could not have just said what you thought you’d heard him say.

“Uh, what?” you asked stupidly, hardly daring to breathe.

Shouto was watching you with an intensity that you’d never really seen on him before.

“I did not think until recently that you were ready. Forgive me if I am misreading,” he said. “But I have been...interested in you since the moment you joined the agency. I am given to understand that you may now feel the same way.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

And yet it all felt like it was suddenly lining up.

Suddenly, all of Shouto’s strange behavior over the past few months seemed like it was snapping into focus. All of the food and the coffee left at your desk, the thing with Hiroji’s jacket, and the weird interaction with Magma Girl. Shouto’s strange defensiveness when Hana was talking about hooking you up, and the stupid posturing he’d been doing in the middle of Benjiro’s interview.

And all of the clothes he’d been flinging about—like he’d been trying to leave his mark on you in the most circumspect, little shit way possible.

It all, impossibly, seemed clearer than day.

Your mouth, however, was slower than your brain in catching up.

“Oh my god, you thought I was interested in Benjiro?” you accused Shouto, sidebarring hard. “You were threatening him?”

Shouto adopted that bland-faced look. “You said he was handsome.”

A wild laugh escaped you. Shouto Todoroki, the Shouto Todoroki, the most thoughtful, kind, and possibly most insensibly handsome man on earth, was jealous over a sidekick five years his junior? Over you?

“Shouto, how could you possibly think that I could ever think of anyone else when you are right there?” you demanded. It was like your shock was disabling your brain-to-mouth filter, and suddenly you were blurting out everything you’d been hiding from him the past few months.

“I have thought of literally no one else since Hiroji broke things off with me. Actually, as we just discussed, Hiroji broke things off with me because I thought of you so much!”

You stopped, face heating at your own nerve, the force and forwardness of your assertion.

Shouto’s eyes darkened, and his grip tightened on your wrist again. He leaned forward again. “Then I believe I would like to finish this conversation elsewhere,” he said quietly.

You stared at him, thrown. It took you a couple of moments to realize what he meant, but when you did, you leapt up from the table faster than you had ever moved in your life.

“My place is closest,” you said quickly.

Then Shouto was throwing bills down on the table and scooping up your shoes, pulling you along with him quickly. You’d never moved so fast in your life. You might have had a latent teleportation quirk, for all you knew, because the two of you arrived at your building in record time.

The second you made it through the door to your apartment, Shouto was on you. He stepped inside and pressed you back against the door in one fluid motion—and then he was kissing you absolutely stupid.

His mouth was hot and soft and perfect, just as perfect as he was, and he kissed with the same careful attentiveness with which he did everything else. He cupped your face in one large hand, opening your mouth for him, and then you really did think you could have been hallucinating.

“I can’t believe,” you panted between kisses, “that this is happening. I have been trying to get rid of my crush on you for months.”

“Try years,” Shouto murmured, before pulling you back into a kiss that left you shivering against the door, boneless.

Your shoulder brushed something, and you turned to see the dark grey of Shouto’s coat, the one he had left the night where it all started. It hung heavy from your coat rack, like a flag at full mast, loudly announcing Shouto’s presence in your life.

Honestly, you should have known when Shouto had switched out his coat for Hiroji’s.

Shouto caught you looking and smirked, gently pulling his suit jacket from your shoulders and adding it to the rack.

“Who the hell did you think I was having over that you needed to leave that here?” you wondered, watching him place the suit jacket there like another marker of his claim on you.

In retrospect, he really was so transparent, and you could not believe you hadn’t caught on sooner.

Shouto looked back down at you innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You rolled your eyes and prodded him in the side, trying to get him to own up to his antics. But he just caught both of your hands in his, gathering them together against the door above your head. And then his mouth was on yours again and you quite forgot any complaints you had against him.

Shouto kissed you slowly, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world now to savor it.

“Maybe I wanted you to see it and think of me,” he said, when he finally let you up for air.

You said something, but it came out more like garbled nonsense than a word, and Shouto laughed, pressing a hard kiss to your mouth.

“And—what did you—do with—Hiroji’s jacket?” you asked between kisses.

Shouto looked annoyed, kissing you harder, like he was exacting a fine for saying Hiroji’s name in front of him. “Something he should be glad my hero license does not permit me to do to him.”

You rolled your eyes, though privately you kind of loved it, the stupid possessiveness you hadn’t realized he was capable of.

“And what does your hero license not permit you to do?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment, mouth curling. “Certainly not what I would like to do to you, either.”

Your bare toes curled on your floor and you shivered. Shouto smiled at that, and then there were hands under your thighs, boosting you up against him. You let out a strangled noise, grasping at his shoulders for balance as he carried you through your apartment into your bedroom.

He laid you out among your sheets, then spent a long time just looking down at you and running his hands over the waistline of your dress, like he couldn’t believe this was really happening to him.

You couldn’t really believe it either.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He spent a long while trailing warm kisses over your neck and shoulders, mouth dipping dangerously low towards the neckline of your dress. You tried to return the favor in kind, pulling aside the collar of his shirt to get your mouth on that strong throat, those broad shoulders you liked so much. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that Shouto was letting you kiss him, that he was in your bed, very enthusiastically kissing you.

You let out a surprised oof when Shouto abruptly rolled you onto your stomach under him, pressing himself against you in a long line of warm muscle. He spent another few moments just working his way down your back, leaving a burning trail of kisses wherever he went.

“May I?” he asked finally, when he finally made it to the zipper of your dress.

“Oh my god, please,” you whined. Anything he wanted, anything to get that mouth back on you.

He pulled your zipper down so slowly you thought you would turn eighty before he was done with it. You complained, but he just pressed you back down to your bed and whispered something about savoring it, as though you were a present he’d waited to unwrap for a very long time.

Finally, just when you thought you might literally explode if he didn’t get his hands back on you, he pulled it off over your hips, taking your panties with it, and settled himself back behind you. Calloused hands came up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.

“You’re just as lovely as I’d imagined,” he said.

You made the most embarrassing sound of all time, but Shouto seemed to like it. He flattened himself against you harder and put his mouth behind your ear. One of his legs pressed down between yours, and you couldn’t help but shove your hips back against him, chasing the pressure you wanted. His thumbs brushed over your nipples again, slowly, like he was drawing it out purpose this time.

You shivered, whining.

“Shouto, this is incredible but I swear to god if you’re not inside me in the next minute, I’m throwing you and your coat out into the hallway. I can and will do things myself,” you complained.

You felt Shouto huff a laugh into your hair. He pressed a kiss under your ear, and his thumbs brushed over your nipples once more, slowly, but then he obliged. He shifted, and you heard the clink of his belt, the unzip of his pants, before he settled back between your thighs. His weight felt so good over you, anchoring you firmly to your bed as he slipped between your folds, and it was all you could do not to snap your hips back impatiently.

Shouto pressed into you slowly, gently. It had been a couple months, and the slide of him inside of you felt almost like a new sensation. The stretch of him was deeper than you had remembered, and so overwhelmingly good when he rolled you onto your side so he could press up even deeper inside.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped out when his fingers dug into your thigh, pulling you back against him.

You felt Shouto smile against your shoulder, before his hips snapped up again, and you let out a shivery little moan. His hands found their way to your breasts again, cupping gently and rolling a nipple between deft fingers.

You turned your head and caught his mouth with yours as his pace gradually worked up into something hard and fast. A particularly talented twist of his hips had you whining into his mouth, and he pressed a hand to your core, finally giving you the pressure exactly where you had wanted it for months.

You didn’t last much longer than a few minutes. That steady pressure, a couple of expert thrusts and the gentle teasing of a nipple had you gasping out his name, hands fisting in your sheets. Shouto’s voice, low in your ear, sent you right over the edge, murmuring, “Come for me, good girl. That’s it—good.”

You hadn’t thought it was possible for him to get any hotter than he already was, but that low voice in your ear amped things up to a million degrees. You felt like you were burning up inside, and another murmured word of praise from him finally did it. You bit your lip to keep from shouting, and Shouto followed you right off the edge, muffling his own groan in your shoulder.

When you finally came down from your high, you slumped against him, feeling more like a puddle of pudding than a human. Shouto shifted you in his arms, turning you towards him so he could catch your face in his palms.

“Well? Am I to be thrown out into the hallway with all my things?” he asked.

You laughed, clinging onto a bicep as though to hold him there. “Just you try leaving now and see what happens.”

He had that smug energy about him again, like the cat who’d got the cream, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind now. You let your fingers trace over his arm, his chest, still in disbelief that this was happening.

He could have the cream, he could have it all, so long as you got to have him back.

Shouto pulled you up against him, hooking an arm around your back. You curled up against him, feeling more content than you ever remembered feeling before. And then you let yourself drift off, held in the arms of the hero you had loved for months.

You supposed that for a little shit, he had really had the right idea.

In the morning, soft shuffling in your kitchen woke you.

It was still early, the light streaming through your windows tinged gold with the sunrise, painting your walls in warm tones. Through the door, you could hear the creak of your cabinets opening and closing, and the click of your fridge door opening. It had to be Shouto, puttering around in your kitchen, though what he thought he was doing in there you had no idea.

You heard the shift of an egg carton, the plastic rustle of some bag of produce or another, and then the crinkle of a coffee bag as they were placed on your counter. A smile wormed its way onto your face when you realized Shouto was attempting to cook you breakfast, though cooking was decidedly not one of his strongest skills.

You rolled to the side of your bed, noting the pile of clothes you and Shouto had abandoned on the floor. Your dress pooled across the floor in a puddle of dark fabric, Shouto’s shoes and belt shucked on top of it. He’d apparently stepped back into his pants, but his black button up still laid fanned out across the floorboards, like the dark wings of a bat.

You reached out and scooped it up, pulling it on. You buttoned it haphazardly across your chest and then rolled out of bed, padding into the kitchen to go help Shouto, lest he poison you both.

You figured he wouldn’t mind, as he’d apparently been using his clothes to lay claim to you for months.

And now you were his, and things were all buttoned up—in more ways than one.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha x reader #todoroki x you

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black-mistress-of-evil · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can I request a Bucky x Reader where Bucky gets hurt during a mission and the reader is there to take care of him? Maybe he’s caught of guard by this because he hasn’t had someone take care of him in a long time? Feel free to do whatever you want with this!! Thank you so much and I can’t wait to read it 💕

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Thanks so much for the request @thighs-of-betrayal-blog this was so fun to write! Sorry it took so long! I swear every time I get the motivation to write my life gets crazy. But here it is, hopefully it’s a little bit what you hoped for and if it isn’t I hope you enjoy it anyways haha 💜

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF; angst if you squint; very very brief canon level violence; a minute of mutually pining idiots

Word count: approx 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (he uses the endearment “doll” but other than that reader is gender neutral)

Why Do You Care?

“Bucky stop being so stubborn and let me see!”

You were standing in the living room of the safe house Bucky had dragged you into, hands on your hips glaring down at the super soldier on the couch. He was avoiding your gaze, staring a hole in the wall to your left, and had his arms folded across his chest. He looked to you more like a pouting child than a 100+ year old ex-assassin/current Avenger and if you weren’t so frustrated with him you’d probably giggle at the sight.

The mission had been a success. Sort of. You and Bucky had been sent in to steal sensitive files from an abandoned Hydra base. Which you managed to do. But it ended up being less than abandoned and without any backup the fight out was a rough one. Just as the two of you were finally getting out, covered in blood and bruises, Bucky had grabbed your arm and shoved you into a crouch, bending himself over you protectively as a shot rang out. He grunted out in pain and you leaned around his frame to send a bullet straight into the skull of the Hydra agent who’d been stupid enough not to stay down. You’d tried, then, to make sure Bucky was okay but he wasted no time in hauling you back up and out into the night. His hand slipped down your arm to clasp yours and he didn’t let go until you were safely within the walls of the safe house. The more the two of you had run the more obvious it became that he was hurt but he ignored you asking about it.

Now that he’d made sure the safe house was secure and reported back to Steve what had happened and where you were, he couldn’t avoid you anymore. But he could ignore you and he was trying his damnedest to do so.

“M’fine.” He grumbled at you for probably the third time in as many minutes, shifting to turn his injured side away from you as if that would make you go away.

“Bucky I know you’re not fine so why won’t you just let me see so I can help?” The cuteness of his pout was wearing off as your patience was wearing thin. “Do you not trust me or something??”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to yours then, his heart rate rising as he saw the concern there. He did trust you. More than he trusted himself most days. Hell he was in love with you. But you were way too good for him, too full of light, and you’d never be interested in someone like him. He’d only ruin you anyways. But when he looked into your eyes he couldn’t stand the flash of hurt he saw when you asked that question.

“Course I do doll...I trust ya...” his voice was hoarse and he tried taking a deep breath to clear his throat but it sent pain shooting through him and he groaned, pressing his hand to the still bleeding wound in his side.

“Buck....” your tone was softer now as you took a step closer. You thought for a second that he was going to let you check on his injury but the moment your hands reached for him he shot up, ignoring the pain, and pushed past you into the bathroom while mumbling about not needing help.

You roll your eyes and sigh as the bathroom door slams shut behind him. Ever since you’d met the quiet soldier when he joined the Avengers he’d swung back and forth between pushing you away and pulling you in closer. He always volunteered to be partnered with you and you worked well together but he’d refuse to spar with you. He liked helping you cook for team dinners but always declined your invitations to go out for lunch. During movie nights he only ever sat beside you or, if someone beat him there, he’d sit on the floor and lean against your legs even if there was an empty seat by someone else, but he wouldn’t join you when you were binge watching your favourite show alone. You couldn’t figure him out but the more you tried to the more you fell for him. It had been agony for you to want him knowing he could never see you as more than a teammate and friend. Regardless of how many times his behaviour had made it clear he wasn’t interested in you that way, you couldn’t help it. You loved him. And if that remained unrequited the rest of your life then so be it, you were that gone for him.

And so, despite his insistence that he didn’t need your help, you found yourself trailing after him towards the bathroom. You pressed your ear to the door and could hear him shuffling around, pulling out a first aid kit, and then gasping in obvious pain.

“Bucky? Open the door and let me in? Please? I want to help...I want to take care of you, you just have to let me....” you pause, waiting for a response, and notice that all the sounds on the other side of the door have ceased.

“Buck? Please, I care about you...let me...” your voice is lower, almost a whisper now, and you wait another few painfully silent seconds before hearing a long sigh from the other side of the door. When it cracks open, your eyes meet his piercingly blue ones and you nearly crumble at the uncertainty you see there.

“Can I come in, Buck?” You ask gently and he hesitates for only a second before nodding and opening the door wider. You step inside and motion for him to sit on the edge of the counter for you and he quickly obeys.

“You’re gonna have to take your shirt off for me to see, Buck.” You say gently, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He grunts in acknowledgement and begins pulling his black tee up, hissing as he raises his arms causing a tug to his injury. Without a second thought, you reach forward and help maneuver his shirt the rest of the way off, dropping it to the side as he brings his arms back down. As other times in the past when you’ve seen him shirtless, you can’t help but let your eyes travel across his firm chest and toned abdomen, drinking him in until you raise your eyes to his and realize he’s watching you. You quickly avert your gaze, your ears burning at having been caught ogling him, so you miss the way his lips curl into a smirk. Focusing your attention onto his side you gasp at the large gash there still slowly leaking blood.

“Not that bad, doll.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Just because its not life-threatening does not mean that it’s ‘not that bad’. Dammit Buck why wouldn’t you let me help you take care of this as soon as we got here?!” You huff as you grab some antibacterial cloths and begin cleaning the wound, ignoring his hiss as you do so.

“M’sorry, doll...it’s just...haven’t really had anyone take care of me in...well since before the war to be honest. Got used to taking care of myself...used to not having anyone care.” Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper and you have to strain to listen to him. He’s never been so vulnerable with you and you want to make the most of however long he’s going to let this moment last. When its clear he’s waiting for you to say something you reach one hand up to softly cup his cheek and turn him to face you.

“I care. I care so much, Buck. You just have to let me.” You try to put all your emotions into your gaze, desperate for him to see that he doesn’t have to be alone and that he is loved and cared about. He sighs and leans into your hand more, raising his own to rest on your hip.

“Why?”

He spoke so quietly you’re not sure you heard him and raise an eyebrow to ask him to repeat himself, too afraid of breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the two of you to speak.

“Why do you care so much, doll? Why me? I’m not...I’m not worth it.”

This is it. The chance to tell him how you feel. If he rejects you that’s fine, you decide. Even if he doesn’t return your feelings at least he will know that he is loved and that’s enough for you right now. Your heart feels like it may burst as you weigh your response carefully.

“You, Bucky, are so worthy of all the care in the world. You went through hell and back a million times over and came out the other side a kind, thoughtful, sweet, considerate, gentle, loving man. The world tried to break all of that out of you but you are too strong and too GOOD. The world owes you and if I could wrap up all the love that exists in it and give it to you I would. But I’ve only got mine so that’s what I’ll give you.”

Dropping your hand from his face to his shoulder, you hold your breath as Bucky’s eyes stare into yours as though searching for something. He tightens his grip on your waist, before finally breaking the heavy silence, his voice at least an octave lower.

“You’ll....give me...your love...?” Bucky is the strongest man you know and yet you have never heard him sound so timid and unsure in all the time you’ve known him. He looks so hopeful and scared and you can’t help the confession bursting from your lips.

“Yes Bucky! I will. I already have. It’s yours. I-I love you.” You take a deep breath before continuing, rambling now. “And I don’t expect to you to return my feelings and I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship because that would just kill me nothing has to change between us I just needed you to know that—mmph—“

You’re cut off by Bucky’s lips connecting with yours, his hands cupping your face, thumbs rubbing gently across your cheekbones. The kiss is gentle, careful, almost tentative at first. But then your arms snake around his neck and one of his hands makes its way into your hair and it becomes passionate and desperate. Bucky pulls you between his thighs so you are flush against him and the feeling of his taut muscles against you makes you moan. Your hands lift to tangle in his hair and tug gently as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance which you immediately grant. He growls into the kiss as he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, his hands roaming all across your body, pulling you impossibly closer as you arch into him needing to feel him. He stands suddenly, pushing you back a couple of steps until you are pinned between his body and the wall. You gasp for air and he moves his lips along your jaw, down your neck, and then back up to press another searing kiss against your lips before resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his own breath. Your chests rise and fall together and he rubs his nose against yours before placing another tender, gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry....couldn’t help myself...” Bucky manages to tell you between gasps for air.

“Never apologize for THAT...” you giggle and the vibrations of his chuckle against your chest make you feel lightheaded as he leans back to look you in the eye, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I love you.” He sounds sure. Confident. Like nothing in the world could be more true than that statement. You can’t help the ridiculously giddy grin that splits your face as you tug his face back to yours for another kiss, which he smiles into.

Once you come down from your highs a little bit you manage to coax him back to his spot on the counter and you continue cleaning his injury and stitching him up though it takes much longer now as Bucky keeps distracting you. He plants kisses to your nose, your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your forearm, basically any part of you that comes close enough to his lips. When you finally finish, you let your hands run along his muscles as you rub your nose against his and kiss him deeply, gently biting his bottom lip eliciting a sound from him that turns your insides completely upside down.

Before you can say or do anything else, the front door opens with a crash and Bucky grabs you and shoves you behind him protectively as he peeks out into the front room to assess the threat.

“Dammit punk! What’re you breaking down the door for?! I thought you were a hostile! Why didn’t you just call and say you were here??!” You sigh in relief at Bucky’s nickname for Steve and move to peer over his shoulder at the Captain as the two super soldiers glare at each other.

“I’ve been calling for several minutes! You didn’t answer! I thought you were in danger, jerk!”

“Sorry, Steve! We were...distracted. Bucky needed stitches.” You quickly apologize and give an excuse in case Bucky isn’t comfortable saying anything yet since you hadn’t exactly taken the time to talk yet. But he just turns to face you and smirks as he tugs you to him for one more kiss before reaching around you to grab his shirt and pull it on.

“Ya. We were pretty damn distracted. Didn’t really appreciate the interruption, punk!” Bucky chuckles and can’t help the grin that has been plastered on his face since you told him you love him. Your cheeks flush as he puts an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to Steve who is looking between you and Bucky with a happy, almost proud, look on his face.

“It’s about damn time, you two! Now, who made the first move? I need to know if I owe Sam $50 or not.”

#let me write for you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky x gender neutral reader #bucky x female reader

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vicious-vixxxen · 3 years

Text

SugarDaddy!Enji X SugarBaby!Male Reader <3

Not entirely sure where this came from, but couldn’t help myself once it started :3 nothing crazy, and kinda short, so apologies for that, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Prompt fills should be out later this month: In the midst of a move, so slow going getting fills, out, but hopefully soon <3 thanks for the patience, and the continued support. Much love to you guys! Enjoy :3 Sugar Daddy!Enji x Sugar Baby!Male Reader

(Sort of, kind of, it is but also not entirely the focus)

“What would you do without me, dad,” Fuyumi sighed, though her smile was palpable, even if Enji couldn’t see it- as she’d stepped behind him to lint roll his dinner jacket. Enji adjusting his watch, and catching the time, puffing his chest up a bit as he shooed his daughter back, and glanced at himself in the full length mirror once more, briefly. Enji would lie down and accept the sweet, bitter kiss from the grim reaper, before he ever told his daughter just where he’d found his date from. But, and as hard as it was to so much as admit it, Enji did know when to wave the white flag of defeat, and after three hours of trying to pick his own outfit, he’d shuffled off to her room and mumbled the bare minimum about having a date from an app tonight. Fuyumi had freaked out for all of ten minutes, before growing startlingly serious, and rifling through his closet for articles of clothing Enji had no idea were even there. And now...well, he looked more presentable than he had in ages. Granted, his wardrobe consisted of his hero suit ninety nine percent of the time, but still. Bidding Fuyumi goodbye was a whole other ordeal, but soon enough, Enji found himself- or rather, his driver, pulling up along the curb of the restaurant he’d asked you to. Not even a moment to gather himself, or suck in a few lungful's of crisp evening air, before his eyes landed on you. Your dazzling smile so bright, Enji had to keep himself from squinting, as you hurried over, and without so much as a hello first, threw your arms over the hero’s broad shoulders, and brought him down into a tight, warm hug. Enji squeezed back awkwardly, though your cologne was mouthwatering, and the feel of someone wanting to be in his arms almost made the older man dizzy, as he pulled back, and smoothed out the front of his jacket. Just to busy his hands, as you eyed him up, and your smile grew softer. More intimate. “It’s so nice to meet, finally. In person.” You laughed, gesturing for Enji to follow you to the front door, as there was already a man waiting to escort you back to your table. Well, Enji thought. Here goes nothing.

“You’re nervous,” you pointed out quietly- gently, reaching across the table to lay one of your hands over Enji’s much larger one: meeting the older man's gaze as he stopped jiggling his leg, and focused his full attention on you. “Observant,” Enji huffed, though not unkindly, as he took a deep breath, and reached up with his free hand to tug at the neck of his sweater. Cheeks flush, both from the heat within himself, and his nerves. You were much more...handsome? Pretty? Drop dead gorgeous?- than your profile pictures had given you credit for, and even then you were one of the most beautiful specimens he’d ever laid his eyes on, so that was really saying something. “I try to be,” you laughed, bringing your other hand around to sip at your champagne, before laying your glass-chilled hand over the other covering Enji’s, to clasp them on either side- just holding his hand, and smiling. Awkwardness creeping back up Enji’s neck as his throat worked around the words he couldn’t quite find. “I could talk, if you’d like? And you can interject whenever you’d like. No pressure to, if you’re not ready. I could probably talk enough for the both of us.” You we’re trying to cut the man some slack, bless his big confused heart. Your online chats hadn’t divulged much, though you did get the gist from Enji. Bad relationship with his children. Not too close to anyone of his own age. He was lonely. And so were you. You were also broke as fuck, but all thoughts of monetary value flew out the window the second you hugged the man when you’d arrived. Seen the restaurant he’d asked you to; and the private balcony dinner he’d arranged. Enji was trying so hard, and it made your heart beat a little too fast. Your smile almost too bright. “That...would be preferable, thank you,” Enji replied gruffly- though he cleared his throat after like he’d done it by accident. It only made you smile wider “Of course. A very considerate daddy you are,” you teased, referencing the website you met on jokingly- or at least, half jokingly- though the way Enji’s blush deepened had you stuttering around your first few sentences- glancing down suddenly as Enji turned his hand palm upward- holding your hands in return, as you laughed, suddenly, and began speaking smoothly. Squeezing the man’s hands in silent thanks, as he listened intently to you rambling on about your life. Where you went to school, what instrument you played, your favorite movies, and books. He really /listened/, grunting every so often to show you he was- and even interjecting with questions every so often; Enji really wanted to know about you. He wanted to listen. You’d never quite had anyone like that before. Not even close friends who cared enough to really listen to you. Your chest felt tight suddenly as you began touching on your most recent life happenings. Pausing slowly, voice getting quiet as you held Enji’s gaze, you lifted the older man’s hand to press a kiss to his palm. Snickering into it as Enji’s flames burst across his face at the contact. “Ah-Ahem. What uh...what’s that for?” He questioned, voice husky as he turned away slightly. Embarrassed at his flames for the first time since he was a pre-teen. “Just thanks, for listening,” you admitted with a shrug, kissing his palm again, even softer this time. Enji turned then, pure honesty in his gaze as he gathered his courage to speak clearly, “I could listen to you speak...for hours, if I’m being honest. You have..a lovely voice.” “Ah,” You nodded, your cheeks just as flushed as the hero’s as you swirled your champagne in its glass gently. Missing completely the way Enji’s face fell, and he withdrew his hands from atop the table, and back into his lap. The rest of the night went pretty much the same, though you noticed Enji seemed slightly more reserved, and gruff than before. Still just as attentive, still nearly mute, just more...withdrawn. Less open then he’d become as you spoke. It wasn’t until the date had come to an end, and he was escorting you out of the restaurant, and to the car he��d called to take you home, did you realize why. “Here you go.” Enji spoke quietly, yet clearly, crowding you in slightly so the valet couldn’t see the wad of cash he was holding out to you. Crisp bills neatly folded into a money clip, engraved with Enji’s initials. “Oh.” You’d almost forgotten by this point that this was sort of part of it. Or...well, it was the whole point, really. Or had been. “That’s….quite a lot of money,” You thought aloud, frowning at the way Enji’s brows drew down tightly, and he thumped the money into your chest gently. “I apologize for the evening. Please, just take it. It’s triple the amount we originally spoke of. Compensation for the poor company I’ve been.” You froze, staring between Enji’s eyes, that wouldn’t meet your own, and the cash being held out to you, Enji’s grip so tight on it his knuckles were white. /Oh/. So that’s what he thought. Earlier in the evening, your reaction to his sincerity, he’d read into it wrong. ….Sweet old man. “Silly daddy,” You sighed, smiling despite the situation- reaching up to tug out one solitary bill from the stack, before pressing Enji’s fist back into his own chest with one hand- the other snaking up and around the man’s neck, to ease him down to your level gently. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a more wonderful time with anyone before in my whole life. You listened, and saw me. And only me. For hours. I don’t think I can properly describe how absolutely wonderful that was. Truly. Silly,” You laughed again, watching the way Enji’s shoulders hunched, and tensed, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face, before he settled on bewilderment it seemed. The tiniest flames danced across his cheeks as you leaned up on your toes, brushing noses briefly, before capturing Enji’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss. Hand carding up and into the soft hair at the nape of Enji’s neck, scraping your nails through his scalp gently as your lips began to move against one another. Unsure, and hesitant, before that quickly melted away, leaving only the deepest desire, and want. A soft, needy noise leaving your mouth, that Enji swallowed up happily. Panting into your face as he pulled away, breath a wash of champagne, and the chocolate cake you’d both had for dessert. “Tip...for your driver,” You breathed, slightly dazed as you fell back into the car, feet firmly on the ground now- tapping your pocket where you’d slid the bill from the stack he’d held out to you at first. “I...should get going. But if I don’t have a text from you with the details of our next date when I get home, i’ll be one very disappointed boy,” You admitted quietly, cupping Enji’s cheek briefly- thumb sliding across his plump bottom lip, before you opened the back door of the car, and slid in. Wishing Enji a goodnight, before the door was shut, and you were being driven off towards home. Enji checked the time briefly as you pulled away, and once more when he finally was able to get his legs working again- nearly an hour had passed, in which he’d tried and failed multiple times to collect himself. Had that really just happened? The feel of his lips twisting up into a smile felt strange, and foreign for the pro hero. And as he walked home, to allow himself a chance to breathe finally, he began to laugh. Cupping his own face, and touching his lips, an incredulous laugh bubbled from deep within him as he threw his head back and allowed it to overtake him. Smiling in a way he hadn’t in...so, so long. Pulling his phone out, he immediately began texting you, checking your schedule for the next night, before suggesting going to a play. A quiet, private balcony just for the two of you. Close seats. Beautiful music. He could watch your reactions under the bright stage lights. It sounded fantastic. A text from Fuyumi chimed into his phone as he was nearly home, and still smiling like a love struck teenager. So? How was it!?-FT Enji sighed heavily, catching himself in a nearby shop window- looking too happy to be real, and recalling your words from earlier. Wonderful.-ET It was wonderful, Fuyumi.-ET

#bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x y/n #enji todoroki x male reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji todoroki x y/n #endeavor x reader #endeavor x male reader #endeavor x y/n #endeavor #enji todoroki #viciousvixxxen

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: cuties!! hehe we’re finally getting...a couple things in this chapter that i’ve been wanting to share sooo bad! i added question marks to some of the tags to make it more of a surprise! i love hearing what ya thought of it! hehe <3

Five

Pairing: self insert, (?) x female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut and angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, informantandclubowner!changbin (loll thats so long), (?)!felix, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, mentions of alcoholic drinks and getting drunk, hehe bit of smut/suggestive content (tags omitted for surprise--nothing crazy to tag tho hehe), maknae line are my sons in this fic, binnie in this fic can fkn take me lol

CWs: sizable shoot out in public club with several people involved, presumed that people die because of this event, lots blood and other wounds such as gunshot wounds, mentions of drugs (both recreational and hard drugs) mentions of weapons such as knives and guns--the whole scene is violent

Word count: 8.5k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

“Five years later and I’m still tying your ties, F. Some things never change.”

Jeongin cracks a smile, simple and cute, much like the man himself even when he has a handgun glued to his hand.

“It’s still a harder task than some of the stuff that they have us doing. Not gonna lie.”

You smooth down your partner’s lapels where he’s pinned a small pin of the ticking clock. While others would wear crests, the insignia that bonds you to the younger man is this this small instrument. He’s quiet while he watches you fiddle with his silk blue tie that compliments his snow white hair perfectly.

“Are you nervous for tonight?”

Your partner upkeeps his stoic façade the best he can, but tonight there’s something different about him. His silent answer speaks louder than he could ever admit. On the queen sized bed, Seungmin kicks his perfectly shined shoes while flipping through the channels of the TV with a staticky sounding click. Jeongin lightly brushes his hand over the diamond dangling earrings that twinkle as they are supposed to from your ears--likely they’re crystals, not the more expensive jewel.

“I’m not nervous,” He finally sighs, but there’s a bit of a crack to his voice. “I trust you. And Two. I’m trying to focus on that.”

“It’ll be fine.” You assure, “White Rabbit must have his own security that would be at his beck and call. If anyone shoots at us, they’re shooting at him. We’re not alone.”

The young agent nods, then gives a little slap to the college student on the bed. “Get up. We’re leaving. Remember what I showed you?”

Jeongin draws from the bedside a small handgun. It’s more decorative than protective, but still fires bullets that could save his life.

“Keep it in your breast pocket. Make sure that no one sees it. We don’t wanna cause a scene.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen as he feels its weight in his hand. “Got it. I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Me too,” You give the youngster a soothing smile. “And remember, don’t tell anyone your name. When you’re in there, your name is S. Better yet, it’s best not to interact with anyone.”

He nods, then slides it into the thin fabric of his coat. The young man looks considerably more dapper with The Agency’s clothes: a deep purple velvet two piece with silver cufflinks decorated with white roses--another symbol that you’ve grown familiar with.

The prince saunters up to the bedroom with a slick tap at the opened door. He oozes with regality; not like you expected any less. The royal has dressed himself magnificently without the aid of his help once more: a pure black silk suit with a smart pressed white button up that’s spotless with not one crinkle. The while shirt itself is adorned with two thin silver chains which stretch across his lower torso. At the neck where the shirt meets its last button, there’s a floral brooch: one more more white rose for good measure.

“Wow!!” Seungmin respectfully bows. “Your Highness, you look--”

“--I didn’t fuck up the hair, did I?”

Chan grins as he brings his fingers through his newly colored hair; its much lighter than his dark locks had been before: now a shade of tawny brown. The change to his appearance had come at the request of the palace who suggested that he try to conceal his identity even further as to not arouse suspicion.

“Handsome as ever, your Highness.” You sneer out the compliment.

Since the previous night had turned sour, seeing eye to eye with the prince had become harder to do. It was a wild confliction of feelings when you thought more and more of it. With every glance that he would throw in your direction, along with way that he had stared at you all through breakfast, you couldn’t meet him. You felt as if you had borne a wound for him to see, for him to poke at--the secret kind that was best kept to yourself--and he had dug his finger in; he had laughed.

The prince tilted his head, and you met his eyes for the first time since then. There was a softness about him when you knew that he was inspecting you. You knew you must’ve been overthinking it--and that was what made it so dangerous.

“Looking stunning as always, Bee. I knew that you would wear that dress well.”

You let the words, “Thank you,” leave your tongue before toying with the small handbag provided to you. As always, your thigh holster held steady under your dress.

Four clicks at the suite door sounded, startling nearly everyone in the room, revealing everyone’s nerves which they had denied.

“That’ll be Lee Minho.” Chan announced.

Two answered the door in his own costuming. The two men bowed upon meeting, a usual meeting between strangers. The agent lead him to the room, and the royal buttoned his own suit properly.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Lee--”

“--Minho.” Jeongin dryly cut, “We know who you are.”

Luckily, you and your partner shared the same apprehension.

“I’m Fox. You’ve met Bee. The young kid is S, he’s a new agent. The quiet one that let you in is Two.”

Minho bowed politely with a slight blush. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you were well protected, Your Highness.”

Chan chuckled in response then clapped the other royal by the back.

“You look amazing,” Minho said to the prince who shooed him away with a humble hand.

“You as well.”

Chan sized up the royal who indeed looked like one. His suit was a simplier charcoal grey with pinstripes with a white undershirt that ruffled at the collar. Not typical of the royals that you knew, he also wore dangling silver earrings that would have never passed the royal standard for professionalism. However, it made sense considering that he had been of a lower rank.

“Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, shall we head out?” Chan put a very obvious hand to the lower back of Lee Minho while checking with the rest of the group. “It’s best not to keep him waiting?”

Your partner nodded and ushered the group out while giving his body one more pat down to ensure that all concealed weapons were in place. Two checked the assortment of knives tucked discreetly into his own jacket. The man had some kind of wicked and unidentifiable grin while he felt the metal against his fingers. You exited at the rear, feeling a hand tug at your arm.

“--Bee, I’m sorry about what happened...I’m...I hope that you can understand my motivations as to why I said what I did, it didn’t seem like the right time--”

“--There will never be a right time.” You tore your arm free. “Your Highness, what happened...that was a mistake on my part. I acted out of line. There will never be a right time because...I’m your guard, and you’re my prince. Do you understand?”

“But Bee--”

“--End of discussion,” The words burned in your throat seeing the way that he had looked at you just then, and it was clear that he definitely didn’t understand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

You had heard that the White Rabbit had been a prideful man--this was now an indisputable fact once you pulled up to the roaring nightclub set into one of the busiest streets on the avenue in Cairo. Everything about the place was showy and bright and outrageous. It was a miracle that the man hadn’t been caught considering that his home base was as obvious as it was. The entire front of the night club shone with the brilliance of a million stars in a hundred different colors. A giant marquee held the signage with the title of the place, “The Tea Party” coupled with the image of the white rabbit himself--the one from the old movie--a stout little thing with his pocket watch swinging from his paw. His neck was wrapped up in a white ruff, and he wore a frock pattered in red hearts.

A line stretched from the front entrance for as far as you could see, and clubbers swung their bodies in tune to the muffled sound of the EDM music thumping from inside and throwing cigarette butts to the sidewalk.

“Do we just walk in?” Seungmin hurriedly asked with nervous hands wrapped around his body.

“We’re expected, so, yes.” You snaked your arm through Jeongin’s to look even less conspicuous. “Just relax,” You commanded the group lowly.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the prince slug his arm around Lee Minho who appeared to shrink under the other man’s broad shoulders.

Two large bouncers stood at the entrance with muscles swelling under their shirts stained pink in areas which you assumed to have been white at some point.

“Names?” One of them grunted rather than spoke.

From his pocket, your partner took out his very own pocket watch that had been hidden with the rest of your supplies upon arrival to Cairo. On the opposite side of the watch was engraved the two symbols intertwined: the white rabbit and the the white rose. The two men inspected it, nodded, and opened the door for your small entourage. As soon as you entered the booming central room, you could see Seungmin’s shoulders drop as he relaxed.

“There should be someone meeting us!” Jeongin yelled over the sound of the white noise leading to the bass drop. Hundreds of clubbers danced with the music, throwing their glasses to the air and howling like animals. You wouldn’t have been surprised if at least half of them had been strung out on the very drugs that the man himself had helped peddle.

The young agent pulled you closer to him as stumbling bodies passed.

“They could be here. We have to be on our guard.”

“Let me watch the prince.”

Jeongin nodded, letting you recede to the back of the group where Two had tailed. His eye wound hadn’t healed nearly enough, so he opted to wear the sunglasses once more. It was likely that word had spread about the four of you escaped twice--his eye was evidence. From behind the group, you watched the way the the prince’s hand fell down hold Lee Minho by the hip, and the way that his fingers dug in there slightly. As much as you had denied it, seeing them close brought back the very covetous thoughts you tried to keep at bay.

A slender woman with gorgeous tanned skin pushed her way through the crowd and set her eyes on the white head of your partner. Her dress was even thinner than yours, but she wore it as if it was her second skin. The luxurious red color contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and eyes.

“Are you Fox?” She asked with a thick accent, and cascaded her hand down the young man’s arm.

“Y-yes. I am.”

“Bun asked me to bring you to him. I know the way.”

She let her hand fall into Jeongin’s who whipped his head back to you with dry lips that he wetted immediately. You had expected to have been retrieved by someone a bit stockier than this woman.

“He’s trying to get our guard down.” Two said suddenly as he reached into his pocket to thumb over his stockpile of metal there. “Don’t you think?”

The woman took your group near to the corner of the room where bodies didn’t linger for long, but were drawn in the mosh pit in the center. Tables lined these edges which were fashioned into booths with red velvet curtains for privacy to do much more sinister things. The room smelled heavily of pure alcohol spilled by drunk hands and of synthetic fabrics made of cheap plastics. A dozen different fragrances mingled into one dizzying mess: each a scent so different and chemical that it was toxic.

She walked with a swing to her hips, all the way to a booth that was a bit larger than the others--you could only assume that this must’ve been his booth. The woman gestured for you all to enter before drawing the curtain. At the center of the table, the rabbit’s symbol had been burned into the wood. She wore some kind of thin diamond bracelet which she hovered over the image, causing a winding staircase to pop from the carpeted floor down to a hidden chamber.

“Take the stairs, and it you’ll see it once you get down there.”

Your partner have her a curt nod in thanks, then lead the group further down. A soft green and red glow emanated from the space below, also humming with a concealed type of music different from that which was played in the club. From here, it nearly sounded like jazz.

The corridor under the club was bleak and grey with cement, but wooden crates lined it with stamps on the sides in numerous different languages. Your brain could only fathom where the contents had been before they ended up in this basement. It must have been millions of dollars just sitting undisturbed with enough firepower to blow up the whole building and more.

“Guns. Military grade and a little more improper,” Minho sighed out. “He must have every model in existence here.”

“Do you think that he has like...missiles?” Seungmin reached for his small handgun.

“Ease up S.” You tried to contain your own creeping fear, “Those would be too big to keep down here.”

“Who says that this is his whole stockpile?” Two deadpanned as he cleaned his glasses.

At the end of the hall, one more bulky guard stood expressionless with a small sized machine gun ready in his hands. He opened the door without saying much else, letting loose the red and green lights you had seen before, and with it, the putrid smell of expensive drink and marijuana.

The smaller room was only lit by strobes with multicolored gels, and it was dense with the smoke of many number of drugs and vices. There was a small bar with a bartender with bagged eyes and a swath of women in cocktail dresses and men with ties tugged nearly all the way off their necks with lipstick marks pressed into them.

A single disco ball spun above their heads, spreading shiny squares all across the room. Even more guards waited in the same uniform, but these ones looked more expensive--likely his own personal detail wearing gaudy chains and wrist watches inlaid with diamonds and crested in real gold.

“My friends! You were able to make it!”

The man of the hour spread his legs wide on his leather couch set upon a lion’s coat rug, complete with a head and marble eyes and all. At his sides were two more women more unique than the rest: both of them was breathtakingly gorgeous, one of them jeweled like a queen with a thick gold choker that resembled that which old Egyptian royalty would. Her head was smoothed with no hair at all, but instead intricate and beautiful tattoos decorated her like some kind of otherworldly being. The other woman had a cat-like face with two differently colored eyes; one hazel green and the other icy blue contrasting with her fiery orange hair.

“Carroll told me that you had a bit of trouble before you got here. I’m glad to see that you were able to get here in one piece. It only seems like things are getting more and more...risky these days. Even for people like us.”

“We’re not “people like you,” Rabbit.” You pushed to the font of the group.

The club owner himself was dressed in a purely white fur coat which you presumed to be made of real fur. Considering the material, it must’ve been made from the fur of snow foxes--an interesting choice considering your partner’s persona. The smaller man with a thick and muscled form took off his yellow tinted sunglasses to tuck them into his wildly printed shirt that had tiny buttons doing the work of keeping his chest covered.

“Babydoll! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard all about you. Your reputation precedes you.” He took a rather greedy bite to his lip whilst looking you up and down. The white dress must have been doing it’s job well.

“Babydoll?” Chan asked with furrowed brows. “What is--who is--?”

“As does your reputation, Rabbit. I wouldn’t have expected less.”

The proud man snorted, “I hope this doesn’t mean that you’ve got any...preconceived notions about my lifestyle. Our dear friend Carroll doesn’t seem to.”

“Of course not.”

“And you...you must be the Prince of Bulgeun! His Royal Highness Prince Chan of the Crown!” The White Rabbit spread out his arms wide in welcome. “I don’t often get royalty in my club--lots of celebrities and the like.” He leaned over to one of his guards, speaking in Egyptian Arabic and asking for drinks for the group.

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Chan bowed deep.

“So respectful!” The White Rabbit chuckled, “You can all call me Bun. We’re all friends here. And you...who might you be?” Bun pointed a finger at Minho who stepped forward.

“Baron Lee Minho, of Bulgeun as well.”

“Ah! And a Baron too! How did I get so lucky to have such honorable company?” Cat-face ticked her long nails against the club owner’s hand slung around her.

“You know what we’re here for, Rabbit. There’s no need for theatrics.” Jeongin huffed his words out with a confident breath.

“You’re the one that they call Fox? Rumor has it that you and Carroll have a rather...special...connection?”

The bartender arrived with drinks, each of them looking expensive with flecks of gold leaf floating on the surface of the clear liquid. Seungmin shot an apprehensive glare once the glasses were left on a small side table. As had been discussed previously, none of your group had picked up a glass.

The woman with beautiful tattoos stretched a hand down one of the White Rabbit’s thighs, reaching dangerously high between them; just enough to make you flinch from the forward action.

“Baby, I see that you’re playing a dangerous game towing this Price around, so of course I’m willing to help a friend of my friend. You’re lucky that I’ve got just the intel that you need. Some people just don’t know how to shut their mouths, especially when the get a taste of what I’m selling.”

“Oh? And what have you been hearing?”

You eyed a leather chair across from him seeing an opportunity.

“Your Highness.” You motioned for Chan to sit in the chair next to yours, swinging your legs crossed to peek from the thin white silk in full view for the Rabbit to see. After, you dipped your chin into your palm, just for the purpose of letting the front of your dress fall slightly. The prince remained quiet while taking his seat and spreading his legs out strongly.

“If it’s compensation that you need Rabbit, the Crown is also willing to make offers for added...persuasion.”

Chan crossed his fingers in his lap leaning forward. His words were slick and domineering--kingly even.

“Is that so?” The White Rabbit tugged at his lip with his teeth, “I wasn’t aware.”

“Double what The Agency is offering. If I like what you say.”

The club owner scoffed with a grin, “Oh, you’ll like what I say.” Cat-face lifted his drink to his lips, then wiped off the excess off with her finger. Both of the body guards appeared to tense before he spoke and tried to be inconspicuous while they reached for their decorated pieces resting in their waistbands.

“Hell, I’ll even tell you what they call themselves.”

In your impatience, you leaned forward, “Who are they?”

“They’re called The Spades. Some kind of new crime syndicate that’s been fucking up my business and making bargains with my customers. Of course, as you know...I work in a very lucrative business.”

“Naturally.”

“They’ve been stockpiling shit like crazy: all kinds of weapons, any kind that you can think of outside of fucking nukes. They’ve even tapped into drugs as well to make extra on the side. I don’t know what it is that they’re doing that makes them so appealing, but suddenly I’m missing out on millions because of those fuckers. They’ve got someone masterminding it all too--some crazed bastard. I’ve been trying to find him ever since they popped up.” He resumed his grasp on both of his women who cuddled into him.

“Mastermind? The one who’s running the whole operation? You know him?” Both you and your partner locked eyes quick enough for the other man to not take notice.

“No, one of his cronies. He runs the business. He’s illusive and fucking insane. Someone whispered once that he’s psychotic or something like that. You think that I’m bad...”

“Who?? Who is he? Where can we find him?”

“Slow your role there doll, I’m just getting to the good part.” The Rabbit nodded for another sip of his drink. “He’s got several names depending on who you’re talking to. Fucking funnily enough, I’ve heard that he goes by “Hatter,” or more commonly “Joker.” He deals in anything: arms, drugs, sex...and he works for The King.”

“The King?” Chan butted in with the mention of a royal name.

“Not your silly little king, prince. The King. The one who runs it all. He tells The Spades what to do. They’re everywhere, taking over every sector in every nation. They’re trying to dismantle it all--every political system, monarchy, presidency...everything. It looks like they’re starting with you, prince. The Spades preach about chaos. Every man for himself...but it’s a lie. Why the hell else would they be stockpiling? They’re trying to take it all over.”

Seungmin gulped audibly as he sunk to the back of the group.

“When there’s no more control the ones with the most resources always end up on top.” The young student whispered.

“This King, do you know who he is?” Jeongin spoke over Seungmin to detract attention from him.

“Nope.” The White Rabbit swung his legs up on the small coffee table with alligator leather shoes. “I’ve been a little focused on taking down the Joker at the moment, for your information.”

“What’s your intel on him then? He must know how to get to The King.” Minho pushed to the front of the group right to Chan’s side. “We’re not satisfied with your information yet.”

The Baron’s sudden demand surprised you: he had been timid before--so you had thought.

The club owner looked to Chan, keeper of his “persuasion” who nodded to prompt him for more.

“He’s on some island off Greece. Private. Tight security, the kind that could shoot you out of the sky.”

“Impressive.” You tutted, feigning confidence once more. “What more do you know?”

The woman with the bangled necklace whispered something in his ear once peeking at a small old-model cellphone in her hand, brushing her lips over his earlobe. Over the sound system, the jazz music turned sultry, and both women moved to join the other intoxicated clubbers in the back to sway around brass poles.

“There’s the freckled bastard. He’s the grunt--and the one that’s been chasing you I think. Real nuisance isn’t he? He’s the Knave. Had a few run ins with him myself.”

You thought back to the gas station and the black SUVs. Between all the shards of glass, it had been hard to make anyone out, but you had figured that he had must’ve been one of the men throwing their bodies out of the windows to shoot.

The Rabbit chuckled out with some kind of hand signal to his guards. “Knowing him, he could be right outside my door for that matter.”

Jeongin’s eyes flew open, sending you “the look.” Your time was running out. Judging by the way that you hadn’t noticed that the Rabbit’s women had cleared out the other clubbers from the room, they must’ve known something that you didn’t. The club owner stood up with a languid stretch and cracked his knuckles.

“We probably don’t have much more time before they come in here guns blazing. Best protect your prince, hm?”

“Rabbit! You must know something about The King?!” You crossed the room to grab at his frim and fuzzy arm.

He slyly smiled, amused by your grip, “Like I said doll, no one knows much about him. Your Baron has got it right. Start with the Joker. But...” His grin cracked even wider, “Good luck.”

Seungmin tugged at Two’s dress coat as the two bulky bodyguards took The Rabbit by the arms to escort him.

“What's going on??” The young man’s voice cracked with urgency.

“Ready that gun of yours.” Two said lowly with gritted teeth.

He strode across the room with his fur coat lazily swaying, then raised the golden rings on his fingers to the air as he exited. He threw his yellow tinted glasses back on, before turning back to your stunned group.

“I estimate that you’ve got...three minutes? --Oh! And one more thing!”

The white fabric of your dress swept to the side, revealing your thigh holster which you grabbed at quickly.

“What?!”

“Every King’s got his Queen? Does he not?”

The enigmatic club owner slipped into the shadows of his private room, leaving your group with the sound of clambering feet on the floor above, followed by muffled gunshots.

“They’re here?” Seungmin readied his small handgun as he was told and looked to the ceiling where the lights flickered from the commotion. “They found us?”

Two twirled two knives in his hands with a silvery glint. Both of the blades were a bit on the shorter side, but you were certain that he knew how to use them. “They’re always following us.”

“We need to get out of here.” Lee Minho drew out his own gun concealed by his suit. It was custom with a pearl handle. You had seconds to make out the insignia, but you could make out the shape of what looked like a red rose. “The place must be crawling with them. We need to find the exit.”

Your partner nodded while taking his own gun. “Stay close, Your Highness. Follow me.”

“Bee?” The prince called your name with a worried cross between his brows. “Give me a gun. Hand-to-hand is nothing against these guys. I’ll stay close. I promise.”

While he held your eyes earnestly, the way that his chest heaved up and down told you something much different.

“You can handle it?”

“I can.”

Jeongin passed him a Glock from the holster strapped behind his shoulders.

You made your way back through halls lit by hissing fluorescent lights with a white burn to them. The crates of weaponry stretched on and on, adding to your unease knowing what could happen if a bullet were to be fired in this hallway. Thick rats skittered in the dank edges of the hall and weaved between boxes labeled in Spanish.

“Drugs.” Minho gripped his gun tighter. “From the looks of it, cocaine.”

Above your heads, a giant boom resounded and dust with drywall fell from the lights that flickered harder.

“Its a fucking maze down here.” Jeongin tapped at his watch in an attempt to find a schematic of the place.

The college student wetted his lips. “At least we’re not up there with them.”

“At least the lead worked out. We know more about these...Spades than we did before. It’s a start.” You tailed the back of the group with careful footsteps and the click of your heels against the cement flooring.

Another resounding boom echoed followed by the shrill screams of clubbers above. It sounded hellish--you could hear the raw fear in their voices. The music thudded on, likely abandoned by someone running for their life. The Prince’s knuckles turned white holding onto his piece of metal near the front of the group.

“F, you know the way up?”

“I-I think. We should be approaching some stairs soon, but there’s nottelling who will be on the other side.”

Two tore off his sunglasses and shoved them into his breast pocket. “We’ll be damn lucky if they haven’t found the hotel yet. If not, we’ve got to run.”

“My laptop??” Seungmin whimpered.

“That damn Chromebook? Don’t worry about it, your life is more important.” Jeongin scoffed. “The Agency can set you up with something even better.”

“I can’t believe that at a time like this all I can think about is my stupid computer.” The young man shook the thought out of his head.

“Stairs up ahead.” Jeongin pointed. “Get ready.”

“Chan?” You pulled at the prince’s trim to his coat.

“I’m fine Bee. Honestly. I trust you.” He attempted a smile. The same smile, that damned charming one that couldn’t get out of your head.

Minho looked back to the prince too with worry, it had been the most sincere motion that you had seen him do as of yet. He reached out to squeeze the royal’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“Don’t go dying on us Your Highness. Think about what that would mean for the kingdom?” He chuckled.

“I’ll try my best,” The prince returned the gesture.

Jeongin reached for the metal door handle to the teal green door cracking with paint. The sound of machine guns had grown even louder, followed by the sound of the shells hitting the wooden dance floor. The air was thin where it crept under the door and carried with it the horrid smell of smoking guns and spilled alcohol.

“Two, Bee, form rank around the group, I’ll lead.”

Two nodded, popping gum into his mouth and blowing large electric blue bubble. “Can do.” Both of his hands tightened around his blades.

“One...Two...Three!”

Time slowed the second that the door opened, and your ears rang with the deathly silence. Bodies to the left and right of you became a blur and they fell to the floor in the silence with their limbs twitching until they didn’t move at all. White collars turned red, as did the white tablecloths of the standing tables. The strobes pranced around the room in a multicolored shower that was as blinding and stained your eyes.

The men in black suits and leather gloves scattered around the room with their red crests glinting. They shouted commands at eachother, but to you, all you could see was the way that their lips curved and cracked. In front of you, your partner leads with a hand gesture that you had memorized from training, and all of your focus was drawn the the back of the group. The trigger of your gun was cold on your finger: you pulled and pulled not even pausing to feel the way that it fought back against your wrist. The men were sprinting with their own guns tight in their hands, but each of them fell before they could get close.

Two’s mouth was in a flat line as he threw tiny blades from his hands to the chests of men running across the balconies and hiding from behind tables. He appeared to have an infinite amount in his coat and saved the longer and more lethal ones for close connections, subsequently dipping his own fingers in red.

The young college student trudged on in the center of the group with his head tucked firmly between his two shoulders. Clear streams of tears fell down his eyes, but he wiped at them furiously between each shot that he took with his small handgun. Next to him, the two royals kept their own heads low aiming shots around them to backup you and your partners.

Their footsteps came echoing behind you, and you walked backwards, taking aim with one eye squinted, while barking out commands from your mouth that you barely even understood. Your heartbeat bumped in your chest nearly in tune with the thudding 808′s of the music that reverberated in your ears. Each of the Spades moved as if they were shadows over the bodies of the fallen, leaping and jumping, nearly floating over dining tables and sweeping off the glassware and silverware with them as they did so.

“BEE, I’M ALMOST OUT!” Jeongin screamed to you nearly before reaching the front revolving doors.

Two tossed another magazine in the young agent’s direction, then threw another dagger with startling accuracy.

For seconds at a time you could see how Minho’s eyes had narrowed with his aim, and he too met every target exactly where he wanted. You figured that the royal must have trained himself well to have that kind of precision. The way that he appeared perfectly calm was startling: his dark eyes squinted and he turned his body swiftly with little effort.

“Fuck--I’M OUT OF ROUNDS!” The prince bellowed before ducking under Minho’s arm which immediately swung over him.

You closed in closer to the group, using your body as a shield for the prince’s back.

Your partner cast aside fallen chairs and tables in his wake, as one of the thugs charged at him. In response, he threw his gun into his waistband, opting to slung the man with a hurried uppercut that sent him spitting blood to the floor before falling, “We’re almost there! Keep pushing!!”

“SHIT!!!” Seungmin groaned out before dropping his small gun to the ground, he trembled with his leg dragging behind him, then soon his pants soaked with a dark stain to his slacks.

“BEE LOOK OUT!!” A voice screamed, seconds before you could register it.

Your head whipped back to the chaos of the club, seeing the “freckled bastard” himself point his decorated riffle at you point blank with a wicked grin on his face. He looked purely evil. There was something about the way that his ears poked, or how his eyes upturned that made him look devilish when his pearly white teeth peeked once he took his shot. He had ashy blonde hair that had strung with sweat over his forehead, and blood wetted the tip of his dress shoes. He cocked his head to the side, as he did too with his gun before the deafening shot cracked through the room.

You were shocked trying to memorize his face, and frozen in your fear from the barrel of the gun facing you right between the eyes.

An excruciatingly tight grasp at your arm pulled you to the side before you could react, throwing you to the hardwood floors before whoever it was pulled themselves in front of the bullet. Your vision was rocked when you hit the floor, missing the glass revolving door by centimeters.

“Y/N!” Your partner screamed, waking you from your haze as the room started to piece back together. “You good?!”

Another hand grabbed you to your feet before shoving you through the door, lightly slinging your arm around his shoulder before taking your gun from your trembling hand to take a few more shots. You realized it was Two this close, and tiny flecks of red splattered at his neck.

“Fuck--give me that--” You grabbed the gun from his hand to fire every bullet that was left at the freckled bastard until you couldn’t any more, and the cool of the evening stung at your heaving lungs once your group reached the sidewalk.

Outside of the venue, clubbers scrambled and ran the streets still shrieking in their fear and tripping over their heeled shoes.

“Chan?? Chan--where-where’s the prince??” The words spilled from your lips in your pure adrenaline.

Right behind you only a couple paces away, the prince stood pale with Seungmin holding between them a groaning and gasping Minho who barely held on to the two men. A bullet wound soaked his black suit jacket, and the red crept up to his white frilled collar.” The wound made a hole right in his shoulder with a visible circle.

Jeongin sprinted to the back of the group looking disheveled himself with sleeves hastily pulled up to his elbows. “Shit--shit!!”

“S-move aside. MOVE!” You commanded the whimpering young man who gave you Minho’s other arm. You wrapped around his wasit and dragged the heavy weight of the man who had just saved your life.

The prince dryly smacked his lips then scanned the street for more of the Spades in his daze.

“Y-you okay?” The words dried up your tongue.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine, are you?” His energy had been drained of him, and his knuckles were also cracked, likely from having to throw punches that you haven’t even seen him take.

Gunshots echoed further down the street followed by the screeching of wheels and more panicked yells. The chirps of cop cars pulled up to the scene and their husky demands rounded up the escapees in rapid-fire Arabic.

Jeongin sprinted back with his white hair bouncing to a taxi nearest an intersection. He threw the door open apologizing profusely the best he could before pulling the driver out of the driver’s seat and to the cement. He cursed out loudly in response to which Jeongin tossed out some bills haphazardly to his chest.

“Get in, GET IN!” He called to your group while tapping on the metal side of the vehicle.

Both you and the pricne guided the injured royal in to the backseat between you.

“Minho--Minho, hold on--” Your nervous hands held his pale face in your palms.

The tear of your dress filled the small compartment, prompting the prince to snatch his hand into the other man’s firmly.

“Minho--you fucking dumb asshole--you had to go and he the hero didn’t you?” Chan smiled hopefully.

“Ar-are you alright?” He coughed, “Your Highness?”

“Shut up.” Chan ruffled his hair with another adoring smile. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Although it was silk, you used every inch of your dress tear to tie around the baron’s shoulder tightly in an attempt to add pressure to the open wound.

“Bee--” Minho started with a lazy glare.

“--Keep talking Minho, look at me. You’re gonna feel sleepy, stay awake. You did great, thank you so much for doing that to me. Thank you.” You grabbed his opposite hand firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Lee Minho laughed. “Don’t mention it. And--if you wanted me to keep talking...I wanted to tell you that you’re really stunning Bee. How you handled all th-that. I was really impressed.”

“Hm, I was impressed too.” In his own way, like this, bloodied and a bit delirious, Lee Minho really was as handsome as he let on.

The taxi car whipped around another corner with wind whipping in the windows and each of your masses jostled in the car as if bumped over the curb. The hotel wasn’t that far from The Tea Party, and you knew that any moment you would reach it, but each second stretched longer and longer.

“Fox?! We’re not there?”

“Fuck--Bee, the whole city is crawling with cops, everywhere I turn, they’re on the hunt, The Spades are everywhere I can’t make it back--no doubt they’re already there...”

In the front seat, Seungmin clung to Two as if his life depended on it as his whole body shook and Two tore his own jacket sleeve to close off the young man’s wound on his leg.

“Wha-what are we going to do?? S-shit!! Ouch!!!” The young student gritted his teeth in his pain while his leg shook terribly. He sobbed, “It hurts, really, really bad!!”

“I planned for this.” Jeongin’s eyes flicked in the review mirror to you in the back. “I asked Carroll to set up for us a secondary place if something went down and we couldn’t make it to the hotel. I figured...if anything happened or if they found us--”

“--Get us there, fucking drive Fox, Minho needs first aid, right fucking now, he’s bleeding too fucking much.”

“I know, I know!!”

“How far is it?!”

“Not far, I promise, twenty minutes--tops.”

“Make it ten!!!”

Jeongin floored it, running lights and becoming a stream under the skyscrapers of Cairo. From the small skylight of the taxi, thin clouds streaked in the evening sky and mixed with the glow of the city. Far, far, above your head, you prayed for the first time in years that you could make it in time.

Seungmin sobbed with puffy eyes from the front seat and writhed, “Hurry! Hurry!” He begged.

Minho’s head lulled in the backseat as he bled though the white silk binding him. His head bounced back and forth from you to the prince with glossy marbles for eyes that blinked slowly. The prince rested his hand on the baron’s thigh and rubbed calming little circles into it.

“Minho, you did so well. Look at me.” Chan coaxed, causing the other to smile adorably grim.

Minho twitched before rolling his head over to the prince. “Your Highness, i-if I may be so bold...I-I’ve got...I’m crush on you.” He finished his sentence with a wrinkled smile.

You scoffed out with a laugh while making knowing eye contact with the prince who laughed out lightly too.

“He sounds like someone I know.” You winked at the royal.

The taxi made one final turn to an alley filled with potholes that jostled each wheel of the car.

“This is it! Right here!” The young agent whipped into a one car garage hidden into the alley. The darkness of the garage filled the car, and snuffed out all of the light from the street, and even muffled the faint sirens of police as they whizzed past. The night was still full of gunshots, but at least now they sounded far enough away to be safe.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was a modest two floored apartment outfitted with the normal security system of The Agency: window locks and cameras in every corner of every room. As expected, each of the rooms was covered in a fine layer of dust, and the old smell hung with flecks of the material stuck on lampshades and wafting in the light.

Work had been delegated between you and your partners, with the two other men helping treat Seungmin in the second bedroom out of three while you and the prince aided Minho.

The windows were left open to let in some fresh air, also letting in the faint sounds of the city which still surged with life even late into the night. Still, the smell of the desert came floating into the room with a welcome sense of tranquility.

The royal lay on the bed with cracked pale lips while you set to work dabbing at his wound gently with gauze, cleaning the area around the bullet wound. Fearful to cause more bleeding, the bullet would stay where it was for a few moments more for another layer of wrapping. The prince remained quiet, passing you materials as needed with hands stained pink from the other man’s blood.

“How are you feeling?” Chan quietly asked.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Minho smiled, “You ever been shot before?”

The prince shook his head.

“Well, I hope that you never are. Feels like your whole body gets stirred up from the impact and then there’s the sting.”

Carefully you pulled back the remains of the baron’s shirt while lifting him slightly off the bed. As you swept the fabric from behind him, you noticed the thin red line tracing around his shoulder bade which you figured to be blood at first.

“What...what’s this?”

“Oh,” Minho shied, “It’s a tattoo.”

“You’ve got a tattoo? For a royal?” Chan slicked back Minho’s sweaty locks. “You really are full of surprises.”

Gently you laid the baron back down to lay with his new wrappings. “What is it?”

He paused, wetting his lips quickly before he spoke. “It’s a red rose. It’s a bit large--I know--not typical for royals. Don’t worry, you’re the only royal that knows that I have it.”

“Why a red rose?”

Below you, Minho looked relaxed and calm, beautiful even like this bare-chested under the single lamp-light of the bedroom.

“Well...you know the significance of symbols and insignias. We’ve all got our own.” He grinned out while playing with the prince’s free hand.

“I’ve got my white rose, Bee’s got her clock: seems like we’ve all got our own thing.” Chan agreed, watching the way that his fingers interlocked with the other man’s.

In the opposite bedroom, Seungmin cried out sharply to the tune of Jeongin chuckling out, “I’ve got you, you fucker!” The clink of metal fell into the little bowl they used: the bullet was out of the poor boy.

You sighed knowing that the damage caused to your group could’ve been much worse, yet you had made a skillful escape. Still, the thought of the bodies littering the floor...the silence that rang in your ears from the pace of it all and how the energy of survival started to wear off...it was truly gruesome.

“Minho--really, I appreciate you taking a hit for me like that. No one has ever done something like that for me...and you barely know me...”

The baron smiled, taking your hand in his too. “Like I said, it’s fine. Had I not, you wouldn’t have been able to help us out of there...even if you were dragging my ass for the tail end of it.”

The breeze flew in with the dusty curtains; just cold enough to make you shiver in your thin dress.

The prince looked to the both of you, “What happens now?”

Chan himself was a proper mess: he no longer looked like the perfect vision of regality from the earlier evening. He looked like a man, a regular man, scared, unsure, and confused. His knuckles were cracked...and you had promised that you had never wanted to see him harmed again.

The prince’s eyes softened, softer than they had been, soft like they had been the evening before when you had broken.

“We survive. The best we can. We recuperate for a couple days, and ask Carroll what the next steps are. I’d guess it would be Greece then.”

Minho leaned up with a little grunt to face you. “I’m coming with. I can help. I can be valuable if you need another set of hands on a gun.”

“I think you mean hand. Your arm is gonna be out of commission for a little while.”

He smirked, “Still...”

The sweeping red outline of rose peeked to his shoulder, and you wondered how far it really spread.

“Bee, I don’t think that I’ve thanked you.” Chan let the words fill earnestly, throwing that same damned smile at you.

“Chan...you don’t have to thank me. You’re my prince.”

The royal nodded with a contented little grin that tugged a dimple on the side of his face. You found both men looking at you as such, as if they were waiting, or anticipating the unsaid as you were.

Somehow, the room turned silent once more: a void quiet enough to hear your heart beating in your ears.

You bridged the gap, pulling Chan close to you as you pressed your lips against his, using your stained hand to pull his lapel into your body while he melted perfectly into you as he had done before. His mouth tasted slightly like the salt of blood, but that was of no matter to how sweet he was when he gently let himself unfold for you, gasping lightly against you. Chan’s hand reached to your arm to caress the goosebumped skin down, giving you another reason to shiver. You found your own hand tie into his light brown locks and pull deeply at the roots with depths of curiosity and want. Your tongue gently explored his lower lip before teasing right into his mouth which was even warmer than you had imagined it being.

Your other hand found the torso of Minho: bare and quivering under the touch of your fingertips which traced each muscle there. He let out a drawn out sigh, then drew his own hand down the curve of your body to your hip, finally working it back up over your belly to your breasts thinly protected by the dress. He sat up higher and brought his lips to the fabric, kissing right into your belly with the warmth of his mouth. He paused, giving you moments to crave that same feeling on your lips and prompting you to bow down and indulge yourself in the taste of his mouth too.

Chan’s hungry hands came tip-toeing over your back as he watched, and slipped one finger under your thin dress strap to pull it down and press kisses to your shoulder. With his other hand, he let it fall down Minho’s back: over the red rose, right to his thigh which he squeezed at firmly: right between the heat of his legs.

Minho was different from Chan: rougher with his advances, but still addictive in how he would test the corners of your mouth with each kiss more courageous than the last. He ruffled up your torn dress, then let the silk fill up his hands before pulling it in ways to meet your skin with his. Slowly, Chan did the same, edging a hand up to your ass from the frayed bottom of the once-gorgeous dress.

The bed was just big enough for two, but with this new interlocking of limbs as close as possible, you melded into one. Both you and Chan crept over the man between you, painting the blank canvas of his chest with seething hot lips and biting at the flesh of his skin lightly. Minho’s back arched from the beautiful sensation, causing him to giggle in his euphoria.

In the middle, you found Chan once more, and held him close, as close as you had wanted for longer than you had admitted.

“Oh Bee...” He moans into your mouth while releasing all of his glee onto your tongue.

“Chan, I’m not scared anymore. I don’t even care.”

The prince shuddered at the thought, and held you back just as tight finding the corners of your dress to pull over your head.

“Oh my god,” Minho adores you, then reaches out to pull you to his chest.

This mysterious man, melts for you too, whimpering perfectly between your lips. Your legs find their way around his thigh to grind at lightly. There's an innocence to his eyes, much like that of the prince: its a kind of blind adoration that you know all too well. His dedication to Chan, and his gesture to you: the thick bandages around his arm: you find your apprehension slipping to nothing.

Your fingers loop around the white lace of your panties as you kneel above both men, and you swipe your thumb over both of their glistening and trembling lips.

“Well boys, how about I’ll make both of you mine tonight?”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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ratmonky · 3 years

Text

After The Storm

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: choking, breeding, biting, mild knife-play, smoking, munkey’s self indulgent ass

AO3 Link

@kingtamakimurder thank you for always inspiring me and making me smile ((; pls accept this as your early birthday gift

The downpour came after the peal of thunder almost instantly, it was heavy and rapid.

People around cursed and started running around to take shelter from the heavy rain.

One man stood there calmly, unresponsive to the rain droplets falling soaking his clothes. He clicked his tongue before opening the umbrella he had been holding onto.

The weather report was right as always, the channel he had watched this morning had reported that there would be heavy rain around the evening time.

Lines of rainwater from the top of his umbrella dripped down in front of his gaze as he brought a cigarette up to his lips. Using his cheap spark wheel lighter, he lit his cigarette with a deep inhale. His eyes were trained on the exit of an apartment building as he was putting away his lighter, waiting for someone who fit the description.

The cigarette smoke he blew left a stale taste in his mouth. He had been standing here for a while, hadn’t eaten or anything. It was boring but he knew it wouldn’t be long until something interesting happened.

The calm before the storm.

Then, finally, after a long time of waiting, the target was in his view. A young woman entered the building, clothes soaked with rain, carrying a bag of groceries.

He watched the code the woman pressed into the lock and crushed his cigarette under his shoe.

Time to move.

~~~

You stared at your phone screen to check the time and walked inside your apartment building. There were a lot of unread text messages from people you knew but you tried your best to ignore them.

When you pushed the elevator button, you were fantasizing about how you were going to strip your clothes off as soon as you got inside your apartment and fill up the bathtub with warm water. There was an open bottle of white wine from a couple of days ago, you could eat the grapes you had just bought too.

Today would be your pamper day, you decided.

After a long week of working, it was only natural that you deserved to do a little bit of self-care.

If you remembered it right there was an unopened pack of your favorite chocolate bar in the kitchen cabinet too! Ugh, today was going to be perfect!

You got on the elevator while trying to decide which show you would watch after your much-needed bath, omitting the man who had entered the apartment building with your code.

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime. You looked down to your feet to notice how water had pooled under you. You had probably left a puddle of water on the main floor as well while waiting for the elevator. The janitor was going to be really mad, you should have listened to the weather reporters who had warned the citizens about the heavy rain.

Internally apologizing to the janitor, you left the elevator on your floor, heading straight to your apartment. Water droplets falling from your clothes left a trail after you. A loud groan left your lips, the janitor would definitely know you were the culprit.

You unlocked your door and entered your apartment, rubbing at your eyes. You were feeling a little drained. Nights had been more sleepless than usual but you knew as soon as you got in the tub full of hot water and bath salts, the heavy feeling would lift, and you would be renewed.

Kicking off your shoes, you started getting rid of your clothes by the doorway to avoid soaking the floorboards with water. Your clothes were sticking to your skin and peeling them off took you a minute longer than usual but once you were only in your underwear, you carried the grocery bag to the kitchen.

Quickly making your way to the bathroom, you turned on the faucet to let the bathtub fill. You grabbed your wet clothes and ran into the bathroom with them, squeezing the excess water before hanging them on the clothing rack for them to dry.

The bathtub had only filled halfway when you went inside your room to put on your favorite robe. It felt a little weird walking around in your undergarments even if you were alone.

Back in the bathroom, you checked the temperature of the water with the glass of white wine you filled earlier. You opened one of the big bath bombs you had, using it instead of bath salts felt like a better idea. You could stand and watch the satisfying colors emerge from the bath bomb. It was always mesmerizing to see.

Your thoughts were interfered with by a heavy knock on your door. You weren’t expecting any guests. In a hurried motion, you tightened your robe using the string around your waist before walking out to the doorway.

Getting on your tiptoes, you looked through the peephole to see who it was. It was a man with his dipped low. He banged on the door this time, startling you enough to gasp.

Now, unlike your old apartment, the door didn’t have a chain lock on it. You had actually bought that specific lock a couple of months ago but you had been procrastinating on installing it and today you cursed yourself for always leaving the things you actually needed to do for tomorrow.

You grabbed the door handle hesitantly and opened the door to see what the man wanted. Your free hand was clutching the fabric on your chest. The door only opened until there was enough space for you to peek out but not enough space for the man to see inside.

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice flat, kind of annoyed. How dare he disturb your pamper routine.

“That’s why I’m here,” he replied. He was tall and muscular, which irked you. “A colleague gave me your name, and said you treated people who couldn’t go to a hospital-”

You suddenly opened the door wider and shushed him. He raised a brow and glowered down at you, with the way his eyes squinted at you, you felt like an insignificant pebble on a crosswalk.

“I-I don’t do it h-here,” you explained, a hundred names crossed your mind and you tried to remember which one of your contacts was stupid enough to give this man your name but you couldn’t think of anyone. Even if you did… nobody knew where you lived, meaning, this man had found you all by himself. “You should leave, I’ll come by that bar in Shibuya next week, as usual, I’ll see you there.”

You made a move to close the door.

“Hold up.” The man put his hand on the door, blocking you from closing it. “I can’t wait that long.” His grip on the door tightened, you could swear you saw his veins pop up.

“I-I can’t help you right now, sir!” You tried slamming the door closed by using your entire weight to push it but the door seemed to just open wider. Yelping, you looked at the large man in horror.

“Why is that?” he demanded, his voice sounded terrifying, there was an underlying tone of rage as if he was ready to snap. Right now, he was technically standing by the door frame, if he took one step forward, the door would be wide open and he would invade your home.

“It’s not an appropriate time,” you said honestly.

“You’re lying,” he called you out immediately, narrowing his eyes at you. “Some stitching, once it’s done I’ll be gone,” he insisted.

“Sir, please, if you don’t leave I will scream,” you replied, simple and to the point.

“I thought you people swore on an oath or whatever to help those in need? Like; patients will be my first consideration yada yada.”

“We pledge to service!” you corrected, “And you seem perfectly fine to me! Leave before I call the police!”

He moved away from the door and you almost fell face forward onto the tile floor. You were getting ready to cuss him out when he lifted his shirt.

Quite unlike a nurse, your mouth gaped at the sight, quickly you looked away.

He scoffed at your reaction, “Not very professional, are ya?”

You heard your next-door neighbor open their door, knowing what the view would look like to them, in a wave of panic you grabbed the man, pulling him inside the cramped doorway. It wouldn’t have been that jarring to have a man lift his shirt up in front of your door if it wasn't for the evening hour, which permitted a lot of gossip for your neighbors.

Getting on your tiptoes, you looked through the peephole, your neighbor walked past your door with their dog without a glance in your direction.

You heard the soft thuds of footsteps moving further away and suddenly remembered the unknown man you had inside your apartment. By the time you whipped your head around to see what he was doing, he had already disappeared into your living room.

“Sir,” you called, crossing your arms on your chest. “I need you to leave.”

He threw himself on the couch, putting his foot up on your coffee table. “You invited me inside.”

“N-no, it was just because I didn’t want any misunderstandings between me and my neighbors.”

While you were busy explaining yourself he found the remote control and turned on the television, flicking through the channels.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” You stomped your foot, “I’ll call the police if you don’t leave my house right now!”

Unresponsive, he continued flicking through the channels until he found a rerun of a thriller movie.

With a grumble, you went to grab your phone from the bathroom and walked back to the living room. “I’m serious!”

He was still unfazed.

“Okay, that’s it!” Your fingers fumbled on the screen, trembling as you dialed in the number. You lifted the phone up to your ear, it was on the first ringing beep when the man spoke.

“Don’t you think that they’ll ask me why I’m here?” He turned his head to look at you with a mocking look on his face. “What makes you think that I won’t tell them about your underground hospital?”

Your blood ran cold. It took you less than a second to hang up the call.

He scoffed.

The money you got from your usual job didn’t pay well but criminals… they paid more than well. As long as you kept your mouth shut, didn’t ask too many questions, and treated them, you got paid your monthly income per patient.

You needed the money.

“You’ll leave once I’ve treated you?”

A nod.

You let out a sigh and disappeared into the bathroom to grab your medical kit. You pulled a chair next to the dinner table and placed some tools on the table. “Sir,” you called, “Sit here.”

“Toji,” he said, turning off the television before walking to the chair.

There was no need for you to know his name, you weren’t going to see him ever again.

Toji reached to his back, his fingers dragged the fabric up, once he managed to hook a finger under it, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. He stood shirtless in front of you, his muscles flexed as he draped his shirt over the chair.

“Enjoying the view?”

You weren’t moving, eyes trained on Toji intently when he called you out. You breathed slowly through your mouth only, internally begging yourself to calm down. You grabbed a damp cotton pad soaked in alcohol and pressed it against a gash on his abdomen. He didn’t wince or flinch. While you were cleaning the gashes and the dried blood to get a clean canvas to work with, you noticed many different scars on his body.

Some were faint, some were improperly healed.

His ribcage was covered with those scars, the ragged rip in his flesh was going to be only one another story to tell like any other of his scars.

“Wanna tell me how this happened? Who did it?”

“A curse.”

“A curse,” you echoed. It made you snicker which also gave him the answer to something he had been wondering.

Putting the cotton pad down, you grabbed the sterilized needle and a thread before kneeling in front of him. You pushed the needle through his skin and pulled it out on the other side of the gash.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked abruptly.

“N-no,” you stuttered, confused as to why he had asked you this question. He wasn’t trying to flirt, was he? “Why did you ask?”

“The way you’re dressed, it’s like you’re waiting for your man.” His voice had an edge to it as if he was saying each word after careful thought, knowing what your reaction would be.

Your cheeks flushed bright pink, not helping the situation and giving him the reaction he was looking for. You would have covered more of your chest but you were busy stitching his wound.

There was a need to change the subject but you found yourself asking him the same question. “What about you? Do you have someone?” Your voice died out quietly when you noticed what you were asking could imply that you were interested in him.

“Divorced.” Was his answer.

“Oh.” The needle sunk into his flesh one last time, you pulled it from the other side of the wound, done with your stitching. “Any kids?”

“Probably.”

The way he answered made the question you jolt but you didn’t dig it any further. Instead, you grabbed another damp cotton pad to clean his stitches before putting a bandage over them.

“Done, don’t shower until next week,” you paused, realizing that you were going to see him next week. “I’ll have to take the stitches out once they’re healed.”

“No need,” he replied, smirking while looking down at you. He was simply enjoying the view of you on your knees. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Ah… okay.” You removed your latex gloves and tidied up the floor. “That’ll be around 12 000 Yen.”

Toji barked out in a laugh.

“W-what?”

“That much for sewing some skin together? I could’ve done it myself if I had taken some sewing classes.” He leaned forward on the chair, his biceps flexed hypnotizingly as his hand reached for your face. You didn’t move away, it was happening too fast. He squeezed your cheeks together until your lips puckered, his eyes sparkled with dark amusement. “Why not lower your price, whaddaya say, kitten?”

Something in your body switched.

Your head shook, you tried speaking but the words came out weird. “It’s ‘cause you invaded my home and forced me into this.”

Toji was still able to understand what you were saying. Your response annoyed him, for some reason he couldn’t articulate. He sighed heavily after cocking his head to the side. “How about I pay you back with something else?”

His eyes wandered down on your chest and then lower and lower and lower-

You closed your eyes shut, what was happening to you? This… He made you feel weird, no matter how attractive Toji was, he was still a stranger! What are you doing? Say no.

“N-no, I want the money.”

“Hmm, really?” He leaned in closer, you could feel his hot breath on your face. “Is that really what you want?”

“I need the money.” I need you to fuck me.

You heard the chair creak as he leaned even closer, then you felt his lips brush against your earlobe.

“(name).”

Ahh, the way he whispered your name into your ear made you tremble. You couldn’t help shuddering at the contact. You were falling to pieces. You were losing yourself.

“Toji,” you echoed, opening your eyes. His hazy gaze was already on you.

He released your cheeks and leaned back on the chair, placing a hand on his crotch, gripping his bulge, smirking.

Your mouth was gaped open, watching his hand as he palmed himself through his jeans.

“Wanna take a closer look?”

You mindlessly nodded.

Toji patted a free hand on his knee, urging you to sit on it. You weren’t thinking when you climbed up on his knee, your mind was blank, only the need to be filled by something firm and large filled your senses.

Eyes trained on Toji’s hard cock, trapped in the rough fabric, you settled on his knee. He grabbed your hand and slowly placed it on his bulge, instructing you to squeeze it to feel how large it actually was. His jeans didn’t do much justice, the size you felt by cupping his bulge wasn’t at all visible through them.

“It’s big.” Your eyes stared unblinkingly down at his clothed cock. Would it fit inside me?

Toji hummed, his size wasn’t any news to him. He placed his hands on your waist, feeling you up while you were busy rubbing your small hands on his growing erection. God, it keeps getting bigger.

“Are ya gonna keep playing with it over the pants?” he asked, moving his knee side to side for whatever reason. You didn’t pay much attention. “Are ya listening?”

A sound escaped you when his knee pressed against your pussy. Was that what he was trying to do just now?

One look at Toji’s face gave you the answer.

Toji bounced his leg gently, your legs trembled and you held onto him.

“You’re more sensitive than I thought,” he said, placing his hands on your hips, gripping harshly to move them along his knee.

Your eyes were starting to roll and flutter as he pressed you down on his knee, the friction was mind-numbingly ecstatic, and his wandering hands were just adding to the pleasure. It was all too much, the heat from Toji, large hands teasing your body over your robe with slowly paced strokes, and his overwhelming musky scent.

All of your senses were rearing up, telling you to get on all fours and let this man you met barely an hour ago fuck you silly. The attraction was undeniable and clearly mutual yet unpredictable.

“Ahh, I wanna mess you up so badly,” he said suddenly, his hands went under your robe, hiking the fabric up to see more of the supple flesh of your thighs.

You mewled in response.

He leaned to put his head on your shoulder, “If I were to,” -he grabbed a chunk of your ass, “-tell you that I wanna see you on top of me, what would ya do?”

Your breath hitched.

“I-I don’t know,” you managed, her voice quivering. I wanna feel your weight on top of me.

He noticed your discomfort. “I think you'd want me to be on top, am I right?”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“You’re being too vulgar.” You tried sounding serious.

His hand left your hip, he reached to your face instead. You gasped softly when he tucked your hair behind your ear. “I can feel your pussy throbbing on my knee.”

Stunned, your eyes widened and you stumbled on your words. “N-no-” you protested, voice trembling.

The intense look he gave you with a raised eyebrow made you blush furiously.

“I m-mean-” You meekly looked up at him. “When you say it like that, you make me look like a… like a…-”

“A slut?” he filled in. He let out a sigh, placing a hand behind your head and pulling you towards his face. “Isn’t it a little too late to reintroduce yourself?”

“I’m just not like this.” You pouted at him. “I’ve never been like this before.”

A grin broke out on his face and he laughed, rubbing the back of your head. “I find that hard to believe, you were trying to seduce me from the moment you opened the door.”

You gasped suddenly, “I would never-”

“You’ve soaked my pants with your cunt, young lady.” Toji teased with a smile. “I can’t do or say anything more vulgar than that.”

A momentary silence hung between the two of you, your face had turned beet red. “With that settled... Do you know the name of the thing you were touching?”

Your body trembled at his blunt approach, oblivious to how close he had gotten.

“It’s a cock,” he breathed. “Say it.”

He leaned in closer and as he got closer you could see his features more clearly. Your eyes were on the scar on his lip, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to trace it with your tongue. “C-c-clock-” you gave up.

He put an arm around your waist, pulling you a lot closer. “Unless you say what you want from me, I won’t be able to pay you back,” he murmured, his eyes hazy.

You gave him a shaky smirk to cover your own embarrassment. “I--I want you to touch me.” I want you to fill all my holes.

“Be more specific.”

You wanted his large hands to cup your breasts and slide down, down down until they found your sacred place. You wanted him to rest the weight of his cock on your face, you wanted his lips on your slick heat, and you... You-

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you.

Toji looked at you as if he knew what you were thinking and bit his lip. “Come on, say it.”

“I want,” you started, body trembling with anticipation. “I want you to ruin me with your cock.”

He pressed a hand on the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him. Instantly, his lips crashed onto yours, he snaked his tongue inside your mouth savoring your sweet taste.

You lifted your leg and crossed it over his leg to sit on his lap. He pressed you down onto his crotch, you could feel the enormous erection underneath the rough fabric, pushing against your own clothed entrance. He could slip his cock right inside your pussy if you were both naked.

Desperate and needier than ever, you started grinding on his erection, humping him like a bitch in heat.

He growled into the kiss, his strong hands bouncing you harder on his erection. He was getting impatient, just like you. He needed to feel your walls clamp on his cock right at this moment or he would literally snap--

His large hands grabbed you firmly by your ass and he stood up from the chair. You yelped in panic before wrapping your arms around his neck to avoid falling. (As if Toji would drop you.)

He carried you to your bedroom, dropping you hard against the mattress. Within barely a second, he was on top of you, hastily pulling his pants down. You followed his example and hooked a finger under your panties but Toji growled at you to leave them be.

“I’ll take them off,” he demanded in a low keen tone, his hand tightly gripping onto something.

Dumbfounded, all you could do was to nod and wait for him.

Toji was completely naked when he flicked his pocket knife open. A wave of panic washed over you as he pressed the dull part of the knife on your chest. He was smirking encouragingly to put you at ease. He looked far too confident in what he was planning to do.

You yelped when he cut your bra off by the middle. Your tits gave a single bounce while Toji’s eyes feasted on the sight of them.

His hand cupped your breast and as he kneaded the soft flesh, he sliced a part of your panties. You lifted your torso up from the bed to shimmy out of your bra and robe. You threw them out of the way. Having your tit in his reach again, Toji pinched your perky nipple, put the knife down, and then brought both of his hands on your panties to rip the rest of the fabric off.

He brought the fabric up to his nose and took a deep inhale, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Decidedly, Toji grabbed you by the hips and pulled you completely under him, his rock-hard cock threateningly loomed over your leaking pussy.

Like he said, you liked him on top. It was a mesmerizing sight to see, his hair stuck to his forehead because of sweat, his eyes hazy with lust, lips agape to the sight of you under him. You could tell he was admiring the sight just as you were. You blushed faintly.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, resting his fingers on your lips.

You obliged right away.

He pushed his fingers inside your mouth, covering the digits with your saliva before taking them out to grab his cock. His eyes didn’t leave yours even for a second, he gave a couple of pumps to his shaft and pressed the tip on your clit.

With a mewl, you bit your lip.

Toji dragged his cock along your folds as you started moving your hips impatiently. He was clearly teasing you but he cut it short, inserting the tip of his large cock in your pussy.

“It hurts, take it out!” you tried to move away from his cock but he held you in place.

“It’s just the tip.”

Although it was only the tip, you felt it stretch your walls and fill you up to the brim. The feeling didn’t go away either. Each time you thought he had inserted the entire length of his cock, he kept pushing his hips forward.

When his hips finally met yours, there were tears in your eyes, your chest heaved as your lips trembled.

“You’re so tight.” It’s you who’s got the enormous dick.

Toji pulled his hips back and slammed into your pussy with enough force to make your bed frame bang on the wall. You basically yelled out a moan and he started fucking you at an animalistic pace. His thrusts were brutal, you kept sliding up on your bed and he followed you to plant his cock to the deepest part of your cunt. Your fingers grasped onto the sheets under you, trying to stay where you were but it felt useless. His weight was more than enough to fuck you frantically at the same time he continued to punch a hole into your wall with your bed frame.

He slapped a hand on your neck to hold you in place, he stretched his fingers before wrapping them around you, his single hand was big enough to wrap around your neck. Your hands immediately went to grab on his wrist, you weren’t sure if you were trying to hold onto him for support or because he was practically crushing your windpipe but you couldn’t think properly.

Using his other hand, he forced your legs on his shoulders so he could shove his cock even deeper inside of your pussy. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Your walls clamped on his cock as you started to panic over not being able to breathe. You kept getting tighter and tighter. Trying to greedily milk Toji’s cock of his seed.

The thought of fucking you until your abused hole overflowed almost made him cum. Toji spat in your open mouth in the heat of the moment, how dare you try to cut the fun short with your clenching gummy walls! He placed his second hand on your neck as well. “Swallow it,” he snarled, his pace slowed.

You couldn’t.

He was putting too much pressure on your neck, you felt like you forgot how to use your tongue to swallow the simple liquid.

In a wave of panic, both of your hands went to your neck. You dug your nails on his hands, scratching the skin for him to let you breathe. Your vision was getting blurry and it wouldn’t be long until you passed out.

Unamused, Toji lifted the pressure off of your neck to instead pick up his slackened pace with his face buried in your neck.

You hadn’t even got to take a deep breath when you choked on both your and his spit. He was rougher than you thought he would be, like an untamed animal.

“I forgot how fragile women are.” Audibly talking to himself, Toji snapped his hips forward, making your toes curl. His teeth sank hard into your neck, enough to make it bleed. He sucked and licked on your neck, steadily nibbling on it while you moaned. The pain was pleasurable, you were going insane. This was it, you were about to see the stars. Weird, he hadn’t even touched you there yet you were already a mess. You wondered what you looked like. Had your makeup melted from your tears and spit?

“I’m close,” he informed, his voice huskier than before. Your legs started to shake, you reached your arms to him wanting to hold onto him. He leaned closer, letting you put your hands wherever they could reach as one of his hands reached between your legs to rub on your clit. Your tight walls clenched on his cock at once.

His vigorous pace and speed slackened, unable to resist your gummy walls any longer. Toji slammed his hips into yours, his balls slapped against your ass with a loud clap and his thick cock twitched. He was all the way inside you, from tip to the base. Your high came first, his finger flicked on your clit as your walls squeezed around him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping that the euphoria would last a lifetime.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while your orgasm shook you to your core. You hadn’t come this hard before with anyone else. Everything felt unreal.

Toji spilled his thick and creamy seed deep inside your fertile womb with a groan. He continued moving his hips to fuck his seed into your pussy. You could feel his hot seed run down from your pussy to your ass, leaving a sticky feeling.

Once satisfied, he pulled out and threw himself on the bed next to you. His bandages were bleeding through, you noticed at the same time you were trying to catch your breath.

It was silent for a while.

The only noises in your room were the two of your breathing sounds. He managed to get his breathing in control quicker than you.

Without speaking, Toji sat up and grabbed his jeans from the edge of the bed. You watched him take a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans. He then laid next to you, putting a cigarette between his lips. He offered you one as well and you accepted out of courtesy.

You were far too tired to tell him to not smoke inside so you had joined him.

He lit your cigarette first, you inhaled the smoke as deep as you could before letting it go. Your muscles were spasming everywhere, your legs hadn’t stopped shaking but the nicotine helped bring your senses back. Your nerves eased with each inhale.

“Did the payment go through?” he joked, chuckling softly. His hair was a mess, he noticed your stare and ran his fingers through his hair to comb it.

“Definitely,” you snickered.

Toji pulled you closer to himself until you settled to his side, with your head on his chest and your arm over his torso. You two kept on smoking in the bed like that.

“When I come back to have my stitches removed, will you take the same payment method?” His tone was flirty, full of promises. “Huh, kitten?”

“I thought you were going to remove them yourself?” A genuine laugh escaped from your lips.

“What can I say, I liked your treatment style.” It was just an excuse to see you again. “So, whaddaya say?”

“Absolutely no! Not after all that choking stuff!”

Nevertheless, when Toji came back to your place the day after, a lot sooner than he should have, you didn’t say anything about the toothbrush he brought with him.

#being a dilf hunter is hard #there are just so many dilfs #toji x reader #toji x you

163 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

The Winter Tale (S.R.)

(Of Snowflakes, Hard Fallings and Soft Landings)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3900

Summary:

Scoring a date with Steve Rogers is not easy. One’s gotta be patient.

Fall might blend into winter before you get to go out with him, but know one thing; Steve Rogers makes things worth your while.

Warnings: swearing and tooth-rotting fluff (no really, it’s strong with this one, and it’s me saying that, so...)

A/N: Sequel to The Fall Tale, works as a standalone too I guess

The Fall Tale (previous one-shot)

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

Fall was reluctantly letting winter take over, as it usually happened towards the end of November, and you were still painfully single. Technically at least, because you yet had Steve Rogers to take you out on your first date.

How was that possible? Glad you asked. It was because fate was a bitch, to put it eloquently. Steve had got your number with almost a scout’s-honour promise to call you soon, and then he didn’t. He lied. Like a liar.

To be fair, after three days of you being mad at the embodiment of truth and justice for all, Steve Rogers did call you, awfully apologetic and sounding truly regretful and either he was that good of a liar who even hired foreigners to be his alibi, or he really was on a market somewhere in Eastern Europe, catching his breath in a middle of a mission.

Being angry with him got considerably harder after that, especially since two days later, you read about a major showdown in his supposed current location and saw a brief footage of him protecting innocent civilians.

Because Steve damn Rogers just had to get more perfect.

The thing was, right after that mission, there was another one, this time lasting twelve full days. You were incredibly pissed at the circumstances – and maybe a little bit angry with Steve too – but mostly mad at the circumstances that didn’t want you to get romantically involved any time soon.

Sure, you could have just told Steve off, bid him goodbye and find someone else, but you couldn’t.

Because Steve tried his best to stay in contact whenever time and safety measures allowed it, texting, calling and on one precious occasion, even facetiming. And once he relaxed a bit – which seemed to be always happening rather soon into the communication, allegedly because you made him feel like a normal guy – Steve could be an entirely nice guy and you couldn’t make yourself let go.

Steve Rogers was kind, charming, witty, which was a cocktail you would never say no to, but on top of that, he was panties-dropping gorgeous. So even if the chances were that eventually, after the date actually happened, you might only end up like friends due to the immense distance between your league and his, you would feel like an idiot if you didn’t try to make it work, hence waiting for him to have a damn day off.

And you didn’t regret it; the date was totally worth the wait.

Yes, the weather sucked, so your clothes was perfectly damp just like your hair just from walking from your door to the cab due to the wildly swirling snowflakes, but Steve held the car door open for you, standing right there in the cold just to be a gentleman for you. He also reluctantly took your hand once inside the cab and even dropped a shy kiss on its back, his demeanour and bright blues reminding you exactly why you had been patient.

The restaurant was nice but not too fancy, which didn’t prevent Steve from opening doors for you, pulling out your chair, letting you order first and generally doing swoon-worthy things that made you feel both touched and aroused. The less posh environment didn’t make either of you feel bad for laughing and being entirely unsubtle, as the conversation varied from light to serious, laughter blending into chuckles and need to touch each other’s warmth for comfort. There was teasing, there was touching, there were unexpectedly dropped lines that made your heart flutter and there was inevitable falling deeper into the pit labelled ‘adoring Steve Rogers.’

“You really are going for the whole shebang tonight, aren’t you?” you teased him lightly when he helped you put on your coat and informed you that he made a reservation to a cinema.

The blush that crept up his neck caused you to feel even giddier than before. The wine you had both ordered might have not affected his brain as he had told you, but it had definitely coloured his cheeks rosy – and yet, now they grew even hotter.

“I mean, we don’t have to-- I don’t-“

You took his hand and squeezed, which shut him up effectively, his expression puzzled and hesitant.

“I would love to spent more time with you, Steve,” you assured him and he smiled sweetly as the cold air from outside caressed your face.

Your breath caught in your chest at the sight you were offered. Yes, New York never lasted long as a winter wonderland, but right now? Now it seemed almost magical as the freshly fallen snow proudly displayed its silvery white.

“Is the reservation paid?” you blurted out, your head snapping to Steve’s only to see disapproval on his face.

“I don’t want you to worry about that-“

“Not an answer.”

“… it’s not,” Steve replied, frowning a bit. “I wasn’t sure how long we would need for the dinner or if you’d even like to go. So… you don’t? Want to go?”

You wondered how Steve did not see the child-lie enthusiasm radiating off you with how perceptive he appeared to be so far. He missed it altogether, apparently, because he sounded disappointed.

It dawned to you that he didn’t get many chances to just go and see a movie and you instantly felt bad for rejecting something he kept his hoped up for.

You couldn’t have Steve sad, even if he was barely showing it. Not to mention that he had been treating you almost like a princess, you sure as hell wouldn’t treat him like you were the evil queen.

“Well, if you really do want to go, we can…”

He only shrugged his broad shoulders, charming a small smile for you.

“It’s up to you. I can cancel the reservation if you have something else in mind. Whatever to keep that beautiful smile on your face,” he offered and your stomach actually flipped as butterflies filled it for the hundredth time that day.

That was your thought exactly about him, but nope, of course he beat you to it and on top dropping a line like that, he was the embodiment of perfection when delivering it.

Steve looked so hot and adorable at the same time that you had to fight yourself not to jump to his arms and kiss him senseless. Pink plush lips, slightly red cheeks, gorgeous blue with a drop of green of his eyes twinkling and he wore such a kind expression that it made your heart simultaneously weep and race.

He kept complimenting you so effortlessly and was so considerate the whole evening too and you weren’t sure how much more you could take before you forgone all self-control and pinned him to the nearest wall; or casually confessed your undying love for him.

“Steven, you are a dangerous man. You should wear a damn warning,” you grumbled insetad, smiling so widely your mouth might actually tear.

He pursed his lips a bit, head tilted to side a fraction, looking like a confused kicked puppy.

Jesus, Steve, stop it or I’ll have to kiss you and I want you to kiss me, so please, be considerate of my lack of self-restraint.

“What did I do?”

“You’re being annoyingly perfect-“ oh now he was frowning hard, “-not like annoying annoying, but—you know. Just… I have a hard time believing this is actually happening. I really like you, Steve Rogers.”

The lines of his forehead smoothened out at your admission, his expression softening as did his gaze.

He helped you put on your gloves, fingers skimming over the first bare and then clothed skin tenderly, small sad smile playing in the corner of his lips.

His eyes met yours, the twinkle in his eyes you which already learned to love dimming. “Well, I did sort of make you wait for almost a month. Not so perfect. No warning needed.”

You had to physically fight yourself so you wouldn’t snort unattractively at the remark; yeah, the said waiting did nothing to protect your heart now. Sadly, your brain-to-mouth wasn��t fully functioning, still letting out more than it was appropriate for a first date.

“Steve, even with that, you’re making it very hard not to fall for you.”

Well, shit. The first admission had been playful. This one sounded pretty clingy. Now he was about to run off and think you a crazy girl-

But Steve didn’t. His face lit up with gratitude and affection and then a smirk found its way to his lips.

“That’s good to know. But I happen to recall a particular moment when you have already fallen-“

A surprised exasperated laughter erupted from your throat, and you actually had to gasp to gather both air and your wits. That little sh-

You yanked your hands free from his, raising your index finger towards his face.

“You know what, forget it, I’m taking it back!” you exclaimed, taking a pointed step back as Steve chuckled. “You are not perfect, you are a jerk and I think I should go home-“

“No, no wait-“ He reached out for you, but you took another step away, squinting at him playfully.

“I wanted to walk with you in the park, taking in the romantic sight of clean New York snow, but you know what? I don’t think I wanna anymore-“

Steve made a lunge for you and grabbed your hands, raising it to his face to drop kisses on your gloves- well, damn, now you regretted that he had so kindly put them on you.

“No, wait, doll, let’s walk. Unless you’re going to be cold-“

“There are some thermal microfibres in those tights or whatever, I won’t be,” you grumbled and he beamed as you unwittingly showed him that you weren’t really mad even despite his little-shit display earlier.

You said won’t be not wouldn’t have been and Steve appeared to be entirely content with you yielding so easily.

Well, damn it, it was really hard to keep up with Steve’s wits and humour; you loved it.

“Very well then. May I offer you a walk in the park, ma’am?” he said, holding out his elbow in invitation – the one farther from the road, of course, gentleman – and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

“It was my idea, you know. Also, depends – are you going to be a jerk?”

“You wound me, miss,” he clutched at his chest theatrically, but definitely tugged you a bit closer when you slipped your arm through the loop of his own just in case you were about to change your mind when another of his jokes inevitably arrived.

“Sure I am.”

You barely made few steps without a word, when his gaze fixed on your face for long enough for you to get nervous.

“…what is it?”

He smiled, gently tugging at your joined arms, and looked you dead in the eye. “I really like you too.”

Oh. Oh. Okay. Where did all the oxygen go? And when did your heart started pounding so loudly in your chest?

“And for the record, I find it impossible not to fall for you.”

You lowered your gaze under the intensity of his, watching your feet walking in tandem as your cheeks burned and your head spun.

“A friggin’ warning,” you muttered under your breath darkly, drawing a breathy chuckle from Steve, followed by his ‘I mean it.’

Truth was, a warning wouldn’t have helped, probably. Because Steve Rogers was impossible not to fall for; but he was definitely worth it.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

You weren’t sure what possessed you; must have been the wine, lowering your inhibitions.

Once again, you couldn’t contain your child-like behaviour.

One moment, you were walking in the park, dim street lights causing the snow glow brighter, fluffy and pure, as not many people were here to disturb the peace. Even the city fell almost silent in the first snow’s honour, as if grateful for the good two inches it was given.

The next moment, you freed yourself of Steve’s warm hold and hurried from the path to gather enough of the wet delight to make a snowball – and hit the pole nearby streetlamp with a surprising precision.

You turned to Steve with a grin, finding him mirroring your expression and clapping, a sound muffle by his own thin gloves.

“Very good aim. I’m impressed,” he assured you and you curtsey for him like the child you were and went to try again.

Before you could finish making a perfect ammunition, three balls hit the very same pole in quick succession, causing you to gasp and swiftly turn to Steve – who winked at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

It was a justified display of smugness, because he stood almost ten feet behind you, the distance from which he hit the pole actually impressive.

Wow.

“Show-off,” you called out silently, drawing a shrug from him. You went to try your aim again to settle the unofficial score and whined when you missed. “Okay, you win, Rogers.”

Steve, on the other hand, continued his strike and hit three more; you noticed him bending for more snow, making a quick and very dumb decision as an idea popped up in your mind.

As he was busy showing off his skills, you got your own two bullets ready and shot-- one of them did hit your target, which just happened to be Steve’s chest.

His mouth formed a theatrical ‘o’ and you couldn’t but double over in laughter despite missing with your next attempt.

“You didn’t!” he gasped, clearly genuinely shocked that you in fact had hit him with a snowball. “Now you’ll get it!”

In hindsight, you should have known that it was like waving a red cloth in front of a bull; you should have realized that Steve would take it as a challenge to a snowball fight.

And it was very obvious from the start that you stood no chance, even if he was blatantly holding back as you tried and failed to hide behind a bench, behind a tree and anything in your reach, your and his laughter carrying through the park as if you were damn children, both of you. You hadn’t felt so alive in years.

Steve however stepped up his game upon you hitting a point of him so high that some of the snow clearly got behind the collar of his coat. The hiss he let out and the flames in his eyes when they met yours after your perfect hit made you run away with all you got, your heart thumping in your ribcage frantically as you knew all too well that there was no escaping a supersoldier.

You tried and failed to speed up as you heard him closing in; perhaps it would be much easier to catch your breath to run faster if you weren’t laughing at the expression of pure shock that had been on Steve’s face when the snow tickled the sensitive skin of his neck.

A yelp escaped you as he grabbed you a tackled you to the ground, spinning you to he would take the brunt of the impact and only then he rolled you over – trapping you against the cold wet ground, making you squirm at the biting sensation on your own neck.

“No! No, Steeeeve,” you whined miserably, but your cheeks were hurting from the laughter and he was a solid mass on top of you to keep you warm, so you didn’t have any reason to complain. You in fact enjoyed the feeling and the intimacy of it a little too much, considering that this was still only your first date.

How? You felt like you knew him for months now; it was like having an unfairly handsome best friend you not-so-secretly had a crush on.

“You brought this upon yourself,” Steve exclaimed, grinning down at you and for the first time, it dawned to you that not only his torso way lying on you and that his hands were caging your head as he tried not to crush you with his weight, but also his gorgeous face with his tempting lips were in dangerous proximity to yours.

Dangerous to him – if he wasn’t careful, he might get kissed very soon.

You stared up at him, lost in the beautiful colour of his eyes and you were only mildly ashamed to find your gaze wandering down to his red lips.

“I—I suppose,” you whispered as your laughter died down, your breathing still heavy and only growing heavier with each second spent mesmerized by Steve’s face so close to yours.

“You suppose right,” he whispered back, voice slightly hoarser than a moment ago, his gaze roaming your face with intensity that had your heart stumbling in your chest. “This is a nice trip down the memory lane.”

“I-uhm… I remember it being the other way around.”

A smile grazed his mouth, still so damn tempting and you really found yourself barely noticing the snow melting into your clothes when—him.

“You complaining?”

You smiled right back when he lowered his head a fraction, so so painfully close you would barely have to move to finally taste his lips.

“Well, the snow is cold, but-- you know how it is… I had worse things happen to me than having a handsome fella land on me.”

Steve chuckled, the vibrations of his chest sending liquid fire through your veins, especially when his eyes seemed to brighten despite the dilatation of his pupils.

“You remember that, huh?”

“You kidding?” you mused quietly, wondering if Steve decided to torture you; if he wasn’t about to kiss you in the next thirty seconds, you might actually combust. His gaze was now more on your mouth than anywhere else and if you were honest, you might have been trembling with anticipation a bit. “That was the line, Steve. I thought you were so smooth.”

An inch. One damn inch, if not less of a distance remained between his lips and yours, practically touching, his radiating warmth and begging for yours to lick at their sweetness.

And yet, Steve still spoke, words you could almost taste: “What do you think now?”

“I think that I’d really like you to kiss me.”

This time, his lips brushed yours, a soundless ‘kay’ tickling deliciously, your eyelids fluttering shut.

Your hands automatically gripped the lapels of his coat, using them as leverage when he withdrew, giving you space to breathe and process what happened. Too bad you didn’t want to, you needed more right in that moment; you tugged at the fabric, chasing after his lips and lifting your head without even opening your eyes.

You could feel his smile as he kissed you again, lingering this time, a tender dance of lips, parted a fraction to breathe in each other’s air. Your head was spinning, your tummy tingly and you truly felt like you could fly, not even ashamed if Steve was grinning at your eagerness – he seemed pretty board on with continuing to kiss you too.

So you smiled back, happy to let him take the lead as long as he stayed-

A discontent hum rambled in your throat when Steve retreated again, even if he caressed your icy-cold nose with his, dropping a kiss there too to warm it up.

You met his eyes, heavy lidded, misted with emotion and you found yourself smiling wider.

“Can’t have you catch a cold, doll,” he rasped and before you realized what was happening, before you could as much as frown in confusion, a silent yelp left your throat as Steve rolled you over again, one arm secured around your waist, keeping you on top of him.

You might not be lying on the snow anymore, but your wet back was exposed to the cold night air now, which wasn’t much any better.

But you were too busy to care, because Steve lost one glove, cupping your cheek for a better angle and he sank his lips into yours again, causing you to see and feel the stars.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

If Steve walked you all the back to your apartment and you invited him in to dry off, only for him to end up spending the night, well, no one needed to know – even if you kept each other warm with nothing but tea and cuddling under the covers.

Whether things got a little more spicy than sweet in the morning… that was only for the two of you to know.

Either way, you decided that while the fall, early or late, had its serious downsides… you were willing to put up with it, because it had brought someone as amazing as Steve into your life.

Which got even more handy when you ended up catching cold from your snowy adventures.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️BONUS❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

Blissfully wrapped in each other, not you nor Steve (which was more of a wonder) noticed two pairs of eyes focused on you and your shenanigans in the snow. Neither of you heard Bucky sigh under his breath either as he lowered the night-vision binoculars.

“Thank God, I thought for a minute that the punk wasn’t going to go for it,” he muttered under his breath, handing the device to his field partner.

Sam took one glance through the binoculars before rising his hand for a high five, which Bucky instantly complied with.

“With the way they eye-fucked in the restaurant, I would have to rip him a new one if he didn’t,” Sam stated.

“You’d have to get in the line behind me,” Bucky retorted, but grinned, truly happy for his friend.

“More like get ready for being ripped a new one,” a voice behind them opposed, causing both soldiers to nearly jump out their skin in surprise – and literally jump to their feet in fright, ready to face their enemy.

Their enemy seemed harmless to an untrained eye: the one and only Black Widow, watching them with her arms crossed on her chest and a raised eyebrow.

“We knew you were there,” Sam blurted out instinctively, earning an eyeroll from the redhead.

“Sure you did,” she scoffed and nodded in the direction of the pair still rolling over in snow in the distance. “Now that you know that Rogers still got some game, you going to stop stalking him or do I have to keep an eye on you?”

“Please. You were just curious as we were, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Bucky smirked and Natasha shrugged with one shoulder dismissively.

“Maybe. Maybe I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t crash their date to ‘help’,” she said, taking care to make air quotes with the last word. “Now let’s get out of here. If you really want to help, you can start looking up some chicken soup recipes to cure her inevitable sniffles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied dutifully with only an edge of irony, while trying hard to remember the recipe for the soup Mrs. Rogers or his ma used to cook back in the day when the always sickly Steve Rogers refused to take normal (disgusting) medicine.

The thought of Steve not being on the receiving end of that treatment and instead being the caretaker had his lips curl up in a smile.

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

S.R. masterlist

💙❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🤍❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️💙

Thank you for reading!

I don’t often write sequels to one-shots when asked, but inspiration struck this time (I went to a wedding and caught very mushy feelings). I hope you enjoyed. Don’t sent me your dentist bills, you’ve been warned.

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buried-in-autumn-leaves · 3 years

Text

A Sister’s Promise (The Dress)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)

Relationships: B.O.Y.D./Huey Duck (Disney: DuckTales), Lena (Disney: DuckTales)/Webby Vanderquack

Characters: B.O.Y.D. (Disney: DuckTales), Huey Duck (Disney), Dewey Duck (Disney), Lena (Disney: DuckTales), Webby Vanderquack, Louie Duck (mentioned)

Word Count: 3027

Also Available On AO3 !!!

Movie nights are common for the kids. With such exciting lives outside and inside the mansion, there was something calming about nights like these. Where they would all sneak into Webby's room after the adults had gone to bed. Windows would be left open for Boyd, Lena, and the others to get in from outside without risking the front door.

This night was not unlike the others, but it was considerably smaller, only Webby and Huey currently present. They were waiting on Lena, who was expected to arrive soon. The absent of the other triplets was requested by Huey actually, and though odd, Webby didn't question it. She was sure there was a reason, and she'd learned not to question things between the three of them. As she finished bringing in the pile of blankets from the hall closet (They weren't meant to go in there, but what the others didn't know wouldn't hurt them.) Huey had settled on the floor across from the TV, "Hey Webs, throw me a snack?"

She reached into the basket next to her, where the group had kept all the snacks they've managed to sneak out of the kitchen. As she tossed a candy bar towards Huey, a tap could be heard on the window behind her. Huey jumped out of his seat.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I forgot to open the window. Probably just Lena, don't worry." She made a point made a point of reassuring them often, knowing how bad his anxiety could get. She ran over and threw open the window. Just as she said, as it opened a shadow could be seen moving on the wall, into the rooms, and then down onto the floor. After a second, the shadow faded, letting Lena's physical form take shape.

They smiled at Webby, "Hey, sorry, still not good at the whole 'going through windows' thing. The others not here yet?"

"It's actually just us this time, but I might invite BOYD over after Tangled. We're watching Big Hero Six, and it's his favourite-" She froze, and looked back over at Huey, her tone teasing. "Oh, would that be okay Huey?"

"Well not if you're gonna talk like that." He responded, rolling his eyes. Their crush on the android friend wasn't exactly a secret to anyone, but Boyd was kind of oblivious when it came to stuff like that, so thankfully he hadn't figured it out yet.

She noticed a backpack that had been hidden behind Huey before he had sat down. "Oh, are you sleeping in here? You can, of course. I'm just not sure how we'd keep that one from Dewey and Louie since you share a room and everything."

"Oh, no I wasn't planning on it, I just brought something I wanted to show you." He seemed a bit nervous, but mostly excited? "Just wait here for a second, I'll be right back!"

Without giving Webby or Lena a chance to answer, they ran out of Webby's room and she heard them enter the bathroom next door. Lena laughed, grabbing a random bag out of the basket of snacks and sitting down next to Webby. "Jeez, you guys are weird."

Webby awkwardly half-laughed back. "Yeah…" It wasn't anything Lena did, of course. She was just curious about what Huey could possibly be hiding.

A few minutes had passed. Webby and Lena were watching an Ottoman Empire rerun as they waited for Huey to come back. As the hosts once again started arguing, the two turned around, hearing a slightly static sound. Lena ran over to the source first. She pulled something out from under Webby's bed. "It's your walkie-talkie."

"Webby, please pick up, I need your help with something." Huey's voice could be heard clearly through the talkie, and Webby, confused, ran over to answer.

"Huey? Why do you even have your talkie on you? What's going on?"

"Junior Woodchuck Rule #1: 'Always expect the unexpected.' But that doesn't matter. Dewey's out in the hall. I need you to get rid of him for me."

"Get rid of him? Why? You're starting to worry me…"

"It's nothing bad, I promise. Just do this for me, please?" He seemed sure, and he didn't seem too upset, so choosing to once again not press the issue, (at least for now) Webby sighed and handed the device to Lena.

"I'll be right back, this shouldn't take more than a minute."

"It's not a problem, Pink. But I am not gonna pause this episode." Lena laughed, sitting back down near the TV. Smiling slightly, Webby nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Just as Huey had said, Dewey was walking around in the hall. He was carrying a tape measure and a clipboard. Webby watched as he seemed to write something down and hold the tape measure against a portion of the wall.

"Um… Dewey?" He turned around quickly, going to hide the objects behind his back. What he didn't expect was for the tape measure to snap shut and hit him in the side of the head. Exclaiming in pain, he shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

"Hey Webby, how are you?" He said, clearly not wanting to explain.

"I don't-" She started, then sighed, deciding the conversation probably wasn't worth it. "Just put this off for the night and I won’t tell anyone what just happened. I'm trying to sleep."

"Fine, deal. Oh, have you seen Huey? He didn't actually tell us where he was going." He picked up the dropped items from the floor.

Panicking, Webby stuttered, trying to think of something that's not suspicious. "He's uh… With Boyd!"

Not a good idea, apparently. Dewey looked surprised, before questioning. "Boyd? Like the Gearloose robo-kid Boyd? OH! Did he finally ask him out?! Louie so owes me $10-"

"What?! No, I- Wait you guys were betting?" She scoffed. She'd definitely be bringing that up later. How dare they not tell her? She could've won so easily! "Anyways, it doesn't matter. Just please let me go to bed."

Previous plans completely forgotten, Dewey nodded and ran back towards his room, yelling at Louie about the money. Once she was sure he wasn't coming back, Webby walked over to the wall where he had just been standing and picked up the clipboard that now lay forgotten on the ground.

"Indoor waterslide? Well, at least he got the measurements right…" Placing the board back down on the ground, she skipped over to bathroom door, grateful that the triplets were so easily distracted. She knocked once on the door, speaking quietly.

"He's gone, you owe me." She wasn't completely serious, of course, but Huey was definitely texting Boyd later that night. It was about time something happened between them, anyways.

"Thanks Webs. I'll be back in just a minute, don't wait for me."

Back in the room, she sat down next to Lena, who was just as curious as she was about Huey's plans. After pausing the show on the TV, they spoke up.

"What do you think he's hiding? I mean not wanting the adults to see I get, but their brothers? I mean I just don't get it."

"I know. This has only happened like once before, and that was when…" She trailed off, then gasped, smiling. "New clothes."

"What?"

"They got new clothes! Oh maybe it's a skirt, we were looking at some the other day-"

She was cut off by a knock at the door, and stopped talking immediately. "Who is it?"

"It's Huey, I just wanted to be able to see your first reaction to this-" Webby interrupted him once again.

"Is it a new outfit?" She asked, excitedly. She heard a sigh from the other side of the door.

"Jeez Webs, you ruin all my surprises."

Then the door opened, and there was Huey, pink and red butterfly clips in his hair, wearing a dress.

It was red, and pretty simple in design, reaching down to where Webby's skirts normally landed when they wore them. After a few seconds of shock, Webby finally seemed to realise what was happening, and squealed. She ran over, almost choking Huey in a tight hug. As he looked behind her, he saw Lena smiling, hands flapping as she ran over to look at the clips.

"These are so cute! Did you make them?"

"Yeah I just-"

"How did you even get this?! Donald and the others always go shopping with you. Oh let me go get my camera!"

"Well I had to-"

"What style would this be considered? I think you'd look really good in a sort of pastel emo vibe, you know? Maybe we could-"

At this point Huey had stopped processing what was being said. The shouting combined with the flash of Webby's camera was so much and it hurt. He pushed his way through Webby and Lena and shakily walked over to the corner of the room the light didn't quite reach. He immediately sat down against the wall and pulled their knees up to his chest, hiding their head and rocking slowly. That was when the others seemed to realise the issue. Webby was the first to act.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry-" She spoke quietly, frowning when Huey had tried to sign that he was okay. "Lena, there's a pair of headphones on my bed. Go grab them for me please?" Lena nodded and quickly went to retrieve them.

So, sensory overload.

It wasn't uncommon for Huey to have these episodes. His ADHD commonly contrasted with his sister's, hers being more hyperactive while his was more inattentive. There was nothing inherently bad about that of course, sometimes it was even a positive part of their dynamic. However it also caused Webby to commonly forget about how bad Huey's sensory issues could get, and so her hyperactivity has caused Huey to go through these episodes a few times before. Still, she never felt and less awful every time it happened.

But this wasn't about her, so she cleared her throat and blinked back the tears as Lena came back and handed her the headphones. She walked over to where Huey was still in that same position on the floor and put the headphones on the floor next to them. She then ran over to a box on her nightstand. Her creative nature had helped her make a variety of stim toys for the others based off how she'd seen them act. Louie had a noise based fidget cube, Dewey a necklace with different chew-safe pieces on it in different textures, etc.

She pulled out Huey's, which was her personal favourite she'd made. One of Huey's main soothers is soft textures like plushies, so that's what she focused on. The plush cube had different fabrics on each side, ranging from longer fur-like fabric to fleece to silk. She made sure there were slight separations between fabrics so Huey had full control on which texture he was touching. This feeling of control tended to help them calm down.

When she walked back over to where Huey was, they were wearing the headphones, and his head was up, but the rocking was still going on. She walked over and handed him the cube, being careful not to touch him directly until he said they were okay with contact.

As this was going on, Lena had gone over to the doorway to dim the lights. The feature was installed by Webby (only starting two fires in the process) after Huey's first overload. And sure, it would've probably been easier to ask one of the adults to help her, but where's the fun in that?

Webby and Lena waited in an awkward silence, letting Huey calm down fully. It seemed the overload left them nonverbal, at least for the moment. Fortunately, since these episodes were common enough, being nonverbal wouldn't completely cut off their ability to communicate. The two had learned basic sign language a few months prior. It wasn't difficult, considering how many languages Webby already knew and how quickly Huey could memorize things like that.

"How're you feeling?" She signed slowly, giving Huey a second to process. After a moment, he raised his hands, only slightly shaking now, to answer.

"Fine, just voice troubles again."

"Are you sure? Do you need anything?" As the conversation went on, Webby said both her own and Huey's parts out loud so Lena would know what's going on. She had attempted to learn the language along with Huey, but turns out it's a little harder to focus on such small details when you can just magic yourself a solution to pretty much any problem.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He responded. "But I don't think I can answer those questions you asked earlier right now. Maybe we could just start the movie first?"

Webby smiled, handing the remote over to Lena, who went to look for the movie. "Yeah, of course. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Huey smiled back and nodded, moving out of the corner and back to where Lena and Webby had set up for the movie. Leaning back against the end of Webby's bed, Huey smiled at their sister, turning his attention to the movie, that had just started.

By the time Mother Gothel had started warning Rapunzel about the dangers outside the tower, Huey had completely recovered. He cleared his throat, gaining the other's attention.

"I'm okay now. Uhm, to answer the questions, yes I made the clips. They're a pretty simple design, so I just stole some basic welding equipment from Gyro's lab while Boyd distracted him for me. And I didn't buy the dress, I made it. Sewing is one of the first badges I got, so it wasn't too difficult."

"That's really impressive, you know," Lena insisted. "You always say stuff like that. 'It's not that much, it's not a big deal.' Give yourself some credit."

Huey gave a small smile and nodded. "Noted… Thanks, Lena."

"Don't sweat it, nerd."

"She's right. And sorry, again. I keep forgetting and I really didn’t mean to-" Webby rambled before Huey cut her off.

"It's fine Webby, really. I know you didn’t mean to, you wouldn't do that." He said, mirroring the times she would always reassure them after an overload or any sort of episode.

Webby smiled at that, and then turned back towards the screen. However, the silent watching of the movie didn't last long, because it seemed Webby had one more question.

"Hey, Huey?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you hide this stuff from your brothers?" She asked quietly, frowning when Huey tensed up at the question. "You don't have to answer, I was just curious-"

"No… It's fine. Just caught me off guard I guess." He trailed off, absentmindedly staring at the TV. "I don't know, really. I think it's just because I want them to take me seriously?" He ended the statement more like a question.

"What do you mean?" Lena butted into the conversation, pausing the movie.

Huey shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's a stupid fear." This got Webby to smack their arm lightly.

"It's not stupid. You have bad anxiety, and you overthink stuff. Think about Louie. When he came out, did you start treating him like a child? I mean, any more then you already do?" She laughed. Louie was always treated like the youngest sibling by a huge margin, despite only being a few minutes younger.

He shook his head. "No..."

Smiling now, Webby spoke up again, teasing. "Well? What did you do?"

Huey sighed, laughing slightly. "I altered his dress into a suit design."

"Exactly!" She exclaimed, beaming. "And Dewey helped! In his own way... But everything went fine. And it'll go fine with you too, I promise."

They didn't answer, simply smiling and nodding slightly. "You can start the movie again, Lena."

As the characters danced across the screen, Huey looked down at their dress, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Maybe Webby was right. Maybe it would be okay. I mean they were family, right? He decided he should talk to Della first. That would be easiest. Plus she may be able to help talk to their brothers. She was their mom, right? If she told them, then nothing could really go wrong, at least for the moment.

He thought about how he would tell her, going through individual lines of dialogue and things she could ask or say. This internal monologue was interrupted by someone snapping in front of his face.

"Huey? You there?" Webby asked, smiling.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. What's up?"

"You have your phone on you, right?"

They nodded, pulling the phone out of the bag that had held the dress. "Need me to call Vi or something?" His phone was quickly snatched out of his hand, and he looked at Webby, confused.

"Nope! It's just this movie's almost over so Boyd is gonna be here in a few minutes-" She paused, looking over at Lena, "Ah, speaking of which, could you please open the window, Lena?" When they walked over to open it, Webby turned back towards Huey. "But anyways, since he's gonna be here, I'm taking this so you'll actually have to talk to him. And if you really don't want to tell him that's fine. Obviously I won't force you. But I really think he likes you."

Shaking his head, Huey laughed. "I mean, nothing else could go wrong tonight…"

"Yeah! And if anything goes wrong I can just delete the memory from his software!" She said, beaming.

"No!" Huey yelled, looking at the door and waiting a moment before talking quieter. "We've talked about this. No editing Boyd's memories!"

"Yeah yeah, I know. So what do you say?" She asked, excitedly.

She watched as Huey looked down at his dress again, and looked up, grinning.

"I'll tell him. As long as you don't try to mess with anything, and you can't be in the same room when I do it. I'll drag him out to the garden or something. Deal?" He held his hand out towards her, and she shook it immediately.

"Deal!"

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #dt webby #Webbigail Vanderquack #lena sabrewing #Huey Dewey and Louie #trans huey #Huey Duck #enby huey #trans webby #enby lena #long post #trans character #gender noncomformity #boyd gearloose #huey x boyd #webby x lena

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hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

Only One K

Newly married, Katniss and Peeta honeymoon in a remote cabin where no one can hear how happy they make each other. When an unexpected thunderstorm forces them inside for the day, Katniss suggests filling the time with a game of Scrabble. She decides to get a little creative with her spelling when there’s only one K tile.

Written for @promptsinpanem’s 15 Days to Finish Your Fic (For Kika) event

Rating: E

Author’s note: Back in July 2014, I was dreading a family event, but I was distracted by a wonderful gift—a sexy story sent through anon asks. When I shared my delight over the kind gesture with @authoresskika, she admitted she’d written it for me. It’s a wonderful example of Kika’s generosity and caring nature that she took her time to make my day better with her writing. As I struggled to decide what to write for this challenge, I remembered her story and decided to draft its prequel. While this can stand on its own, I suggest you read her story first.

Farewell, Kika! There really is only one you.

______________

“I’m gonna come,” Katniss pants, her voice rising with every word. “Peeta, I’m gonna come.”

Her husband doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he thrusts upward to meet the frantic rocking of her hips. His jaw flexes and so do his pecs as she bounces up and down on his cock. His fingers dig into her hips, helping guide her as she rides him. Curls are plastered to his forehead with sweat, and she tosses her head impatiently as her long hair sticks to her neck and face. She should have left it in a braid, but Peeta had unraveled it with such tenderness the night before she hadn’t wanted to protest at the time.

His voice is wrecked when he groans her name. With great effort, he blinks his eyes open to catch her gaze, and electricity shoots through her at the intimacy. His skin, slick with sweat, glistens in the beams of light streaming through the window. His hips slide against her inner thighs, and she can’t help but thrill at the power in his muscular frame. A rhythmic smack of the headboard against the wall matches that of their bodies pounding against each other. Both ring in her ears. It’s erotic and dirty and so, so good.

Heat pools in her stomach, and she gasps for breath. He guides her fingers to her clit and joins her with varied speeds and concentric circles. Captivated by the way the tip of his tongue peeks between his plump pink lips, she matches it with her own. Hers feel swollen from the amount of use they’ve gotten over the past few days, but that’s to be expected. They are on their honeymoon, after all.

“Peeta. Oh! Yeah. Yeah! Yeaaaaaaaaahhhhhh.” The third iteration slurs into a heated groan as her body tips over the edge into climax. Climaxes. So many climaxes in the past few days, and they just keep getting better.

“Don’t stop,” he grunts through gritted teeth when she slows. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Breathless, she whines, “I can’t— I—”

He pushes himself to sitting and pulls her torso against his chest. Cradling her cheek in his palm, he kisses her fiercely before growling, “You can.”

And then she’s moving again as he wraps her legs around his waist and tilts her back until the angle of his cock rubs her just the right way and makes her want to scream. She’s never understood the term power bottom, but she does now. She’s at his mercy as he fucks into her, his biceps bulging, bending her back and biting her nipples. A shout rips from her, unbidden when his teeth clench a little too hard.

Peeta stiffens beneath her and releases. Shouts and moans and curses and squelches and slapping skin and a million other sounds fill the room. She writhes against him and then crests again. He strokes her through it until they collapse into a tangle of limbs. Unable to move, she floats, euphoric and detached, and enjoys the afterglow.

It’s a while before either of them is coherent. Peeta nuzzles her neck with open-mouthed kisses and little nibbles that occasionally have the sting of a full bite. His hands roam her bare skin, and she’s loath to move. Not when he’s still inside her, cradling her to his chest. Her new husband, Peeta Mellark, the love of her life.

Eventually, she has to shift. Stretching, she grimaces at the feel of him slipping from her. Fluid trickles down her inner thigh as she pulls off to roll onto her side. He palms her, sliding his fingers in their combined ejaculate. He paints her stomach with the moisture before licking his fingers clean. It’s so lewd, she squirms to the far side of the bed. She needs a break before another round, and what he’s doing is a definite turn on in spite of her fatigue.

“Good morning,” he murmurs and rolls over to slide back against her. “That was quite a wakeup call.

“I’m so gross,” she complains and pushes at his hand, but he continues to run his fingers through the wetness.

“I don’t think you’re gross. In fact, I think you’re just right. Covered in my come. It sliding out of you and down your legs. All waxed and smooth except for that sexy little runway strip that’s soaking wet. Open for me but tight inside. Clenching around me. Milking me dry.”

The words melt like warm butter and run down her spine until she’s puddled against him, desperate for his touch, but way too oversensitive. He dips his hand between her legs again and rubs featherlight circles on her sensitive skin. His tongue traces her neck and jawline until she whimpers and jerks away from him.

“You know,” she grumbles, “when we agreed on a remote cabin in a national park for our honeymoon, I kind of thought we might actually see some of the scenery.”

He chuckles as his mouth closes over her nipple. “That was silly,” he chided. “My plan was always to get you naked and keep you that way as long as possible.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Not if you’re planning to put on clothes.”

“Peeta, I need a shower.”

“No. No shower.”

“I’m filthy,” she insists, even though her resolve weakens by the second.

“I’ll clean you up.”

“What do you—”

She cuts off in a strangled groan as he slides down her body and buries his face in her pussy. He sucks and licks, alternating fast flicks of his tongue with long, slow sucks of her clit into his mouth. She gives in, losing herself to the feel of him burrowing against her and his tongue plunging inside deeper and deeper. She’s made entirely of sensation. There are no thoughts, no cares in the world, nothing outside of this moment and her husband making love to her in every conceivable way.

Peeta’s a wonderful lover—considerate, passionate, flexible, sculpted, and generous. She’s luckier than she deserves, but she’s enormously grateful he chose her. Since she opened her heart, she’s never doubted that she’s always been it for him since the moment he saw her. It took her longer to fall in love, but that doesn’t mean her fervor is any less real. She feels more like herself when she’s with him than any other time. Sex with him could inspire sonnets if she had the same gift of words he does.

She wrings herself out on him multiple times over the next several hours. He’s insatiable, and she’s powerless to resist him. They stumble to the kitchen for sustenance and end up sprawled on the table. He presses her to the wall in the shower and bends her over the couch when they try to watch a movie. Later, in bed, she rolls over to face him, so exhausted her eyelids droop and her words slur.

“Gotta go outside house ’morrow,” she insists, both drunk and high on endorphins. A lazy smile spreads across his handsome face at her garbled speech, but she forces out her rationale. “Can’t do marathon day of sex. Need fresh air. Outdoors. Grass. Trees. Sky. Sunsets. Stars.”

“I’ll make you see stars,” he teases and kisses the tip of her nose.

“’M serious,” she hums. Blinking her eyes rapidly at him in an over-exaggerated attempt at flirting (at least she thinks she is), she begs, “Take me out, Peeta. See the world thingy.”

His lips meet hers in a soft kiss. “Whatever you want. I’m yours, you know. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, inside and outside.”

“Don’t ’member that part o’ the vows,” she argues sleepily.

“You were probably distracted by my good looks.”

“Maybe,” she sighs and sinks into the mattress. “T’morrow. Outside. No sexing. Tired.”

“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret,” he whispers in her ear.

“Hmmm?”

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

A tired giggle bursts from her, and she manages to ask, “Anytime?” She drifts into darkness as his answer drops from his lips.

It’s still dark when she opens her eyes.

Katniss blinks awake as a rumble of thunder shakes the cabin. It’s dark as midnight. Peeta snuffles softly in his sleep, his even breathing a salve to being shaken from her slumber. She slips from under her husband’s arm and stumbles to the bathroom, so she can pop her birth control pill and rinse her mouth with mouthwash. A flash of lightning startles her, and she hurries back to the bed and tugs the sheets back over her. Cuddling into Peeta’s warm body, she tenses when he pokes against her. It must be morning, because there’s a lot of wood. Struck with inspiration, she flips the sheet to the other side of the bed and grabs the bottle of lube off the nightstand. Slicking up her palm, she grasps him and pumps.

He grunts and rolls onto his back, inadvertently giving her better access. She rubs her thumb over the head and squeezes as she pumps. His sleepy response melts her heart. His hips twitch until he’s fucking into her hand and releasing desperate noises that sound remarkably like begging.

She rains kisses over his face and murmurs against his lips, “Peeta, are you awake?”

His answer is a broken sob and thrusting hips. Determined to make him feel even better, she leans down and takes him in her mouth. His breath catches and then rips from him. She sucks in her cheeks and catches her front teeth on his slit. Bobbing her head, she slobbers until her spit covers him and runs over her fist.

“Sweetheart. Oh, fuck!”

And then he’s coming, his cock pulsing in her mouth and his come spurting against the back of her throat. He’s bitter on her taste buds, but she slurps greedily, intent on lapping up everything he gives her. He whines high in the back of his throat until he softens with a sated groan.

“Good morning,” she says with a satisfied smirk. “Sleep well?”

“Mmmm,” he agrees with a dopey grin. “Woke up better. Thought you wanted a sex break today. You didn’t need to get me off to get me up.”

“Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Sweetheart, you know I lean left—both politically and anatomically,” he teases and leans in for a kiss. It turns obscene so quickly her head spins. Only a particularly loud clash of thunder and burst of lightning snaps them apart. She’s still catching her breath when the rain starts, softly at first and then opening into a torrential downpour.

“We were supposed to go outside today!” she wails.

“Ah, honey,” he teases, a twinkle belying his insincerity. “Looks like the good Lord wants us to stay naked and have more sex.”

“Pretty sure the good Lord wants us to get dressed and play Scrabble.”

Peeta snorts before falling onto his back and shaking with laughter. When he’s finally able to breathe, he runs his fingers through his messy curls and acquiesces.

“I like my plan better, but I’ll play Scrabble if you want to.”

Katniss squeals and smacks away his hand that had managed to find its way to her breasts. Shaking her head, she stipulates, “Breakfast first, lover boy, and then board games. We’ve burned so many calories the past few days, I’ve lost a clothing size. I mean, I really like sexing you up, but damn. I need the break.”

Peeta grins at her and leans up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Fine. I’ll keep my hands to myself, but the second you say the word, I’m gonna be inside you again so fast…”

“Kinky,” she laughs as she rolls to her feet. “I’m gonna shower. Do not follow me with your erection. I’ll only disappoint it.”

“Kika? What’s that?”

“I said, ‘kinky,’ weirdo.”

“Calling me names doesn’t make me any less horny!” he hollers after her as she shuts the door and steps under the warm spray.

She takes her time, soaping her hair and body with a lovesick grin on her face. She still has trouble accepting that Peeta adores her as much as he does. He was the only man she knew patient enough to wait for her to work through her reluctance to be intimate with anyone after her father died, and his constant kindness and willingness to be whatever she needed during high school and college had finally won her over. Now, almost thirty and newly married, she’s happier than she’s ever been. Even so, it still takes an inordinate amount of effort to push back the nagging thoughts that she doesn’t deserve any of it.

“He loves me,” she insists to the empty room, “and I love him. I deserve to be happy.”

“Breakfast’s ready. Come and get it. Dress is optional,” Peeta calls through the closed door.

“Coming!”

She switches off the water and quickly plaits her hair into a wet braid. She hesitates for only a second before tossing her towel onto a rack and walking into the kitchen completely naked. His back is to her when she enters, so she crowds up to him and wraps her arms around his waist.

“Smells good,” she murmurs into his warm skin. “Thanks for cooking.”

He turns to wrap his arm around her shoulder and tug her to his side and freezes. His eyes widen, and his eyes follow a trickle of water that escapes the tip of her braid and glistens on her breast.

“You clean up nice,” he coughs. “Coffee?”

Peeta keeps his word and lets her eat. He watches her as she arches her back and crosses and uncrosses her legs repeatedly. Pancakes have never been so sexy as she makes a show of enjoying every bite of fluffy goodness, and if she allows a sticky bit of syrup to cling to her lips so she can lick it off with the very tip of her tongue, well, that’s just payback for him sexing her up so hard she needs a lot of food to recover. By the time she finishes, Peeta’s given up all pretense of eating and is openly leering at her. He adjusts himself as she sips the last little bit of her coffee and appraises him.

“Scrabble?”

“I can think of better things to do.”

“Well, yes, I’m sure you can, but you promised me board games, darling husband. It’s time.”

“Oh, come on,” he protests, but she rises and waltzes to the couch. She exaggerates the swing of her hips just to torment him a little more.

“Peeta Mellark, we’ve done it on every surface of this cabin. I’d like to beat your butt in word games, now, please.”

“What about the car? We haven’t done it there yet.”

“Car sex? Really? That sounds so uncomfortable.”

“Not if you do it right,” he grumbles and runs his hand down her side and along her flank.

“It would take a lot to get me in the mood in a car.”

“Well, that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

“You’re incorrigible. Doesn’t your sex drive ever take a rest? Come on. Help me set up.”

“You’re just going to sit there naked and distract me so you can win, aren’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“Completely unfair,” he grumbles as he grabs tiles and arranges them in a row.

“So whiny. Remind me why I love you,” she teases, her smirk widening at his pout.

“For my large…vocabulary.”

“Oh, that’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Shhh,” he hisses and places his first word.

They play back and forth for a while, and she accumulates more and more points. When she draws a K and Y to add to her tiles, she decides her hundred-point lead is enough. Besides, it’s weird playing scrabble naked when her husband’s sporting a stiffy in his pajama pants.

Peeta furrows his brow as he examines her play. “K-I-N-C-Y? Uh, challenge. That’s not a real word.”

She curses the board game for limiting the tiles to only one K. How else is she supposed to get her point across subtly?

“It’s hard.”

He flushes and presses his palm to his crotch. “You’re naked! It’s not my fault,” he protests. “You can’t expect me to concentrate when you’re sitting there like that.” He waves his hand at her, and she grins.

“I meant, the C.”

“What?”

“Read the word with a hard C.”

Confused, he looks at it again and experiments with different pronunciations. “Ken-see? Kin-sigh? Kin— I don’t get it.”

“Read it like a K.”

“Kinky? Oh… That’s not how you spell it, though.”

“True, but there’s only one K in Scrabble, and that’s my word.”

“Your word?”

Katniss sighs heavily. If she didn’t know how hard he’d been trying to get her back into bed, she’d swear he was being deliberately obtuse. Standing, she crosses to Peeta and straddles his lap before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “You told me the second I said the word you’d be inside me again. You’re late. A lot of seconds have passed. Kinky was my word, remember?”

She yelps as he shoves her onto the coffee table. Scrabble tiles press into her back as he shucks his pants. He’s on her in seconds, his mouth devouring hers as he opens her with probing fingers and searing kisses. When they finish, her husband traces a message on her chest and then spells it out with tiles. There are plenty of tiles to spell “I love you.”

#15days #promptsinpanem #everlark #authoresskika #krousewrites #in memoriam

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clairecrive · 4 years

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“All the time in the world”- Bob Saginowski x reader

I’m honestly so happy with the response of the Bronson piece! I love you guys so much <3 so here’s a little Bob fluff that never hurts. Also, this is my first time writing him so if he sounds a little bit off that’s why.

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog, @br0ck-eddie, @of-love-and-of-the-sea, @evelynshelby, @deaflikehawkeye, @shadow-of-wonder, @fandom--0verdose, @sopxhiea, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @fuseburner (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

You did it. You finally had sex with him. You had only been going out for a while, a couple of weeks, maybe a month. However, you had known Bob for way longer. You were a regular at his bar, either with your groups of friends or by yourself. That would be the case in which you had met Bob, well you actually had talked to him. When you were tipsy, you tended to marvel about the stupidest things out loud. Bob thought you were amusing and decided to humour you. That had led to a really long talk and long walk home since you were drunk and he refused to let you go home alone. Then one night when you were there on your own, he told you that his shift had ended early and asked if you wanted to grab a bite with him.

From that moment you began unofficially dating. You would see each other every other day and not only at the bar where he worked. Then after the third date, before you could climb off his pick up, he kissed you sealing the deal. Seems like you were dating then.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t like him. Well, of course you did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be dating him. However, your feelings were shifting from “like” to something more. And that bothered you to no end. You didn’t get attached to boys. Especially those who you had been seeing for less than a month. Nothing good ever comes from that. You were a pro at hiding your feelings. Been doing it for so long that you felt now unable to suppress these feelings any longer.

That was going to be a problem.

It was way too soon to feel like you did and even sooner to let him know. But you couldn’t go on this way anymore. Seemed like the sex only brought it up and made it impossible for you to ignore. You were laying down next to him, Bob had dozed off and your mind had gone wild. Suddenly, it was all becoming too much for you and you felt like you needed to leave. Without giving it a second thought, you began to pick up your clothes and got dressed quickly.

When you were about to leave his room, something made you stop and look at him. Sprawled over the sheets half-naked, his face restful and peaceful, he looked so innocent. Bob had always been good to you and this was how you were going to repay him? By acting like one of those assholes in those rom coms that you hated? You couldn’t leave like this and you knew it. You owed him at least to tell him something. So, before leaving, you looked for a pen and a piece of paper and left him a note.

“I need to sort myself out and think things through. Last night was amazing though. Don’t take this personally because you have done nothing wrong.”

Those were the words that met Bob when he opened his eyes. Waking up to an empty and cold bed wasn’t what he was expecting and your words left him even more dumbfounded. Despite what you said, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done something wrong. Furrowing his eyebrows, he quickly went through your time spent together. He was totally clueless though because he genuinely thought that everything was going great between you. Apparently, he had been blind because they were not. He wondered if he needed to give you some space but thought against it. The only way to solve this was by talking things through. Even if it meant breaking up. So he got dressed quickly and headed over your house. After climbing the stairs of your patio, he was about to ring the bell when your voice met his ears. It came from the back of the house. Walking towards it, he stopped just before he came into view when he overheard something interesting.

“So you left him in bed, after your first time together, because you’re afraid?” Your friend's Nadia incredulous voice met his ears.

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible person.” You groaned but your voice came out muffled and peeking from his hideout, he saw that you hid it in your palms.

“I’m sorry but I don’t understand, what are you afraid of?”

“Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Now it was you who was incredulous. It seemed like you two had been talking for a while.

“I did but it’s all bullshit it you ask me.” Nadia sassed earning a glare from you.

“I can’t tell him how I feel Nadia, I’ll scare him away.” you sighed sounding defeated.

“Well, I think you’ve already accomplished that by running away after sex,” she pointed out and when she received your you’re not helping look, she continued, “you should talk to him y/n, really. It’ll solve everything.”

“I know, I know that communication is the key to every healthy relationship but I… I just can’t.” Shaking your head you let it hang from the backrest of the swing you were sitting on.

“Talking to him means that I need to explain why I left and that would lead to my feelings for him, which he can’t know about yet,” you continued sighing, eyes looking up to the sky.

“You had no problem talking about it with me,” Nadia pointed out scrolling her shoulders.

“Are you dumb? That’s different,” you retorted snapping your head in her direction, “if I tell him that I think I love him, he’ll run away!” exclaiming, your expression resembled one of those teachers after they had repeated the same thing for the hundredth time and their students still weren’t grasping it. “It’s been three weeks Nadia, it’s way too soon for the “L” word,” defeated your head went back on the backrest. “Besides, who’s to say that he’s even looking for a serious relationship? He’s really busy with work, he has a lot on his plate right now.” You didn’t believe that. Bob could hear it in your tone and so could Nadia. Both knew you very well.

“Bob doesn’t strike me as someone who’s seeking a one night stand or something temporary.” And in fact, he wasn't. Everyone who knew him was aware of that. It was as plain as day even for Nadia that didn’t know Bob that well.

“Maybe I should just put both of us out of our misery and break up with him,” was your totally unrelated consideration.

“Are you out of your mind? God, what does your mind tell you? You’re in love with the guy and you want to break up with him?” Bob shook his head at your total illogical thought process while Nadia looked completely confused by you. She was having none of it, what the hell.

“This is not what I signed for when we started dating, Nadia. This got way too serious way too fast,” looking at her you defended yourself. “Look at me! I’m here worrying about a guy when I promised myself I never was going to again.”

“Bob’s not the problem here. For all we know, he could be in love with you too and be heartbroken that you run away-” Nadia wasn’t able to finish her sentence.

“Please,” you scoffed, “have you met me? Why would he love me? And stop saying that I’ve run away, I’ve left him a note,” huffing out annoyed at your friend, both of them knew that they were getting closer to the true motive of your actions.

“-what I think it’s the problem here is you and your inability to let yourself go and feel your emotions instead of repressing them,” now it was her time to interrupt you.

“I hate that you know me so well,” you whisper under your breath, “I just- I don’t want to put myself in that vulnerable position again where he can hurt me.” And here it is, thought Bob. This was the problem then.

“Everyone’s bound to get hurt once in a while y/n, that’s life. And you ought to live it to the fullest and not repress every feeling and avoid any deep connection. You’re missing out on a lot, plus, it’s not healthy,” Nadia observed with wisdom that Bob would have never associated with her. But she had a point.

“If you think that it’s too soon to confess your feelings for him then don’t. Show him instead,” she added when you didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been doing that for the past week. Smothering him with kisses and affection, romantic dinners and shit that I’ve always despised in movies. I went over his bar often and stuff. He probably thinks I’m clingy now and he’s fed up with me,” you confessed listing with the help of your fingers.

“Sounds to me you just stopped being distant and started being a loving girlfriend,” Nadia commented with a patronizing smile. “Oh, and he probably already knows too. He’s very attentive and he knows you so…” Scrolling her shoulders she stated what she thought was pretty obvious while she observed your face scrunch up in desperation.

“It’s only been three weeks goddammit, why am I feeling this way?”

“Time is relative y/n. Stop worrying about it too much. Couples have married after two weeks of dating.” Nadia pointed out thinking to help her case but she got the opposite reaction from you.

“That’s madness,” you spat with wide eyes.

The two girls continued talking but Bob had heard enough. As Nadia said, he had noticed the change in behavior and despite what you thought, he had thoroughly enjoyed it. But he had also been wondering what had caused it. Now he knew. Deciding to pick up Nadia’s advice, he turned around and headed back home. He knew how to solve this. He was just going to show you.

At home, Bob prepared a nice dinner. Nothing too complicated but he knew you liked it. He wasn’t good with words and apparently neither were you when it came to your feelings. So he needed to find another way. And he thought that paying attention to the details in a way that showed how much he cared, was the right one.

Show, don’t tell.

That was what he was going to do. Since the very first time you two had eaten together, you had always been very passionate about food. Bob was a much better bartender than he was a cook, hence his occupation, but he tried anyway to deliver a delicious meal. Your favourite nonetheless. From what he’d gathered, it was best for him to take matters into his own hands. Otherwise, if he had to wait for you, he’d probably wait a long time. So he sent you a text, mentioning the homemade diner he asked if you would join him. As he predicted, you’d said yes. You’d never turn down an invitation where food was involved. That alone showed how much Bod knew you. Surely, he wouldn’t pay so much attention to someone he didn’t care about, right? He thought your reservations were fair. He understood where you were coming from. On the other hand, he thought it was very clear his stand on relationships, yours in particular. Apparently not. He was to rectify that soon though.

When dinner time came around, you parked in front of Bob’s house right on time. He had probably heard you pull up because when you walked to his door you saw that it was open and Rocco was waiting for you on the threshold.

“Hello, you handsome boy,” you cooed at his cute little face giving him some well-deserved belly rubs until you noticed that he was holding something in his mouth. Gently pulling it out of his mouth, you saw that it was a folded piece of paper.

It said:

“Please don’t run away like that again. If you don’t talk to me then how is this going to work?”

As you let the words sink in, your eyes flickered to Rocco who was now looking at you with his head tilted to the side. The pang of guilt was impossible to avoid and you knew that this dinner wasn’t going to be like any other.

Closing the door behind you, you made your way through the hallway that leads to the kitchen expecting to find Bob dealing with your food. And there he was.

The table was already set, two sweet-scented candles were lit and he had just set your plates down when you walked into the room. You lingered near the door for a bit, not knowing what mood he was going to be in. You had left after having sex with him after all. Still drying his hands with a cloth, he turned to where you were standing and as if he felt your insecurity, Bob gave you a small smile.

Feeling a little more confident in yourself you crossed the room to meet him before you’d sit down at the table.

“Hi,” you started shyly.

“Hi, babe,” two words and he managed to make you swoon. Oh, how you loved this man.

“I’m so so sorry for this morning, I-” he didn’t let you continue and you were secretly grateful for it ‘cause you would have probably made a mess.

“I know,” he reassured you holding you gently by the waist.

“You know?” How could he possibly know?

“I get that you have reservations when it comes to relationships, I do too,” he shared putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You do?” If you weren’t so damn confused by what was going on, you were sure you’d have punched yourself for being so stupid.

“Of course. I have been alone for a long time. Being in a relationship after a while can be difficult.” Gently cradling your face in his hands, he added, “But I want you to know that you can always talk to me.”

“I’m scared that what I’m going to say to you will make you run away from me. And I kinda like you so I don’t want that to happen,” you confessed quietly. He was so close to you now that you could whisper and he would hear. Somehow it made it easier to talk.

“I won’t,” he promised and you believed him. Why? Good question, it’s just one of those things that you just know.

“I just-,” how were you going to tell him? “my feelings for you scare me,” by just saying it, you figured.

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now. Just know that we can turn that fear into assurance. I and Rocco are always up for some cuddles, aren’t we buddy?” And as if on cue, Rocco barked agreeing with his favourite human. You couldn’t help but giggle in happiness, you were really a lucky gal.

“Now let’s go eat. The food is getting cold.” And with that both your minds were at ease, ready to enjoy the night together. Yes, there were some things that needed to be discussed still but you had all the time in the world for that. It seemed that neither you not Bob had any intention to leave.

#bob saginowski x reader #bob saginowski #bob saginowski imagine #bob saginowski fluff #bob saginowski angst #the drop #bob saginowski one shot #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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nomanwalksalone · 3 years

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NEWNESS AND DEARNESS

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

150 years ago, Alexandre Dumas introduced two minor characters to dinner at the Count of Monte Cristo’s, dressing them perfectly for the occasion in brand-new clothes from the finest real-life tailors and outfitters, and then immediately set their fellow dinner guests to criticizing them. “These Italians are well named and badly dressed,” quips one. His friend suggests he is too demanding: “Those clothes are well cut and quite new,” eliciting the coup de grâce, “That’s just what’s wrong with them. That gentleman appears to be well dressed for the first time in his life.”

Newness, that supposed bogeyman of classic clothing! Legends pile up, no doubt almost as fictional as Dumas’ novel. The old saw about English aristocrats forcing their butlers to break in said aristocrats’ new custom shoes (rather harsh, this, considering servants were no doubt on their feet much more often than their masters and could have used a comfortable pair of shoes that weren’t made to fit someone else). Fred Astaire throwing his new Anderson & Sheppard suits at the wall to get the “stiff, square newness” out of them. Yet another nabob, whose name escapes me, taking a bath in his new custom suits to exorcise that same parvenu newness. What commitment it must take to put on a suit and wear it in the bath! That can’t be very comfortable. One wonders if he also put on a shirt and tie as well. And socks? Only a hippie would wear a suit barefoot, after all. Did he wear shoes, too, or was his butler bathing in those?

What a flex! By criticizing someone for wearing clothes that show their newness, Dumas’ fictional critics and the legends of the stories are suggesting that it’s not enough to have the means and desire to afford beautiful clothing. (Not enough for what? For entrée into whatever society these folks hope to join or stay part of.) Instead, you have to have what can’t be bought: time, time for the clothes to have worn in and aged. And implicit in that suggestion of time are multiple other requirements: not just that you had to have money and clothes for a long time, but that you had to have the training – through upbringing or otherwise – to wear your clothes right, to have the right clothes for every occasion so that you were not wearing your hard-earned new suit of clothes every day. You also had to have the army of valets, tailors and menders who would scrupulously clean, press and repair that suit of clothes over the years, because perhaps worse than newness would be dirtiness and unkemptness.

And those clothes, tailored jackets, trousers, and a “black satin stock, fresh from the maker’s hands,” were, are, complicated to maintain. Some valet no doubt had to put a crease back in Astaire’s newly wallbanged suits, and some other servant, cursing under his or her breath, must have had to carefully air dry, reshape and gently iron the suit that was bathed in. And then mop up. Clothes lose their newness quickly without the support of that army of labor. A labor of skilled hands, cheaply paid. It takes time and attention to spot clean and press a suit well, and a considerable amount of dexterity to invisibly mend frays and holes. Today, the number of professional reweavers, the only people who really know how to do that work, can be counted on the fingers of a single hand in most countries. And if you get your suits brushed and pressed (not dry-cleaned, which all iGents know can reduce the life of a suit if done too often) after each wearing, or do so yourself, you’re a better man than I.

Labor costs a lot more nowadays, which is good for most of us except for snobs who have to iron their own shirts. After all, almost all laundries will press shirts in a button-cracking appliance called a mangle or mangler (and yes, there have been at least two horror movies about such a machine coming to life and, well, mangling people).

So today newness really is just a bogeyman, an old but unfounded scary story. Unpacking my suit during a business trip reminds me that newness and all the stiffness and other mythical monsters associated with it will disappear very quickly today. Unlike travelers of Astaire’s, let alone Dumas’, generation, we don’t travel with wardrobe trunks for our garments to hang in, or with servants. I almost always never check luggage, in order to get through airports quickly (among other reasons). Long ago I mastered the tailor-blessed method of packing a jacket for quick travel (inside out, tucking one shoulder under the other, and folding), but my suit still came out of the case looking like Alex from A Clockwork Orange, rather than Astaire or Gene Kelly, had been doing a dance on it. I shrugged and hung it up in the closet. At least it had good bones, and over a night got to a place of more or less presentable character, but certainly not newness. Hopefully Dumas’ Château-Renaud and Debray wouldn’t mind. These old clothes are still dear.

#rjman #reginaldjeromedemans #features

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nevtelenwriting · 4 years

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Excerpt: Hotch&Reid

Part of that longfic I’m writing that’s at like 35K with no end in sight

Pairing: One-sided Hotch/Reid, Reid is a pining disaster

Rating: T, Humor, slight crack, mostly shenanigans

Word Count: 1800~

Premise: Set early in Season 3, directly after Gideon leaves and Reid is very much struggling. Reid wakes up after a night of black out drinking, in attempts to curb the urge to use dilaudid. Apparently a bad decision was made.

***

If he felt any comfier Reid might have actually been dead. Apparently last night ended very well, considering his immediate senses filled with a warm chest moving with even, slow breaths underneath his own, his face buried against a man’s neck with a pleasant deodorant and salt to his skin. It was unexpected, and the lack of memory would probably hit him harder once he let himself wake more.

Reid refused to lift his face because he could feel the throb behind his eyes beginning to escalate with consciousness. He was about to pass out again and ignore the urgent necessity to find a bathroom for his poor, unloved bladder when a few things start clicking into place.

The first was he was on a couch. Second, he was surprisingly clothed for what seemed to have transpired last night. He had on a shirt, so did the man, and he could only sense bare skin from mid-thigh down where his legs were tangled up in Reid's own. The third, was that after tall, dark, and mysterious ordered him shots at the bar, he didn’t actually remember anything. He couldn’t remember the guy’s face, either.

The fourth was Reid realizing he recognized the smell of this deodorant. The fifth, he also recognized the watch on the man's wrist. And that hand. And the wedding ring.

Reid bolted upright with a horrified, gasping wheeze, hands on either side of the broad torso of his human bed. Wide eyes bugged out further with every second seeing familiar hair, familiar nose, familiar jaw. Aaron Hotchner, his married boss, was passed out underneath him.

Reid immediately regretted his decision to lurch up when the floor tilted sideways and wow, he hadn’t had a hangover this vicious in…ever. Reid groaned and pressed his palm to his throbbing temple, wincing at the daylight filtering in through his blinds. His apartment. Hotch came back with him to his apartment, so at least Reid didn’t have to hide his shame from Haley Hotch’s wife oh god what happened last night.

Hotch grumbled underneath him. He ran a hand through his hair, long fingers carded through messy tresses sticking up from whatever product remained from yesterday. He winced a little before blinking open his eyes, staring up at Reid with a sleepy, hazy gaze not yet aware of his predicament. Reid looked down at Hotch, blinking his own eyes rapidly to remove his hallucination, but the image beneath him was not dissipating.

Help.

“You ready to get off me now?” Hotch murmured, a brow quirking up and Reid was almost positive he had died, but the decision was still out on whether this was heaven or hell.

“Sorry,” Reid fumbled off of him, eyes still huge on Hotch in panic, standing there awkwardly in his lanky t-shirt glory before he crossed his arms over himself. Hotch had on an undershirt, but was sans pants, donning only boxers and socks and Reid was utterly dumbfounded. Either they hadn’t undressed, or in a drunken stupor managed to put back on the weirdest assortment of clothes. Reid resisted giving himself a smell-test to confirm their…nighttime activities.

Hotch sat up and studied him silently, neither affected nor concerned he was half naked on Reid’s couch. Maybe Hotch was in so much shock that last night hadn’t hit him yet? Or he was stroking out. Was he stroking out? Reid scanned his face for signs of cranial dysfunction, regret, or dismay.

Hotch blinked slowly, rubbed his cheek with blearily blinking eyes. Hotch was a slow-waker, no, why did he have to be cute right now.

“You look like you don’t remember,” Hotch mumbled.

Reid bit his lip hard on a pitiful whimper, ground his palms into his temples and whacked one a few times to jog some form of memory, “I don’t. I am so sorry, Hotch, I have no idea what came over me.”

“Nothing happened.” Hotch scrunched his nose, shaking his head, “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m going to put my pants in your dryer.”

The relief was superseded by confusion. Reid’s lip curled. “My dryer?”

“Pants first. Explanation second.” Hotch pushed off of the couch, his bared bicep flexing to do it. Reid bit his lip.

Pants were a good idea. Reid was in shorts only, he didn't wear briefs to bed which meant now Hotch likely knew he wore no underwear to bed and—wait Reid was on top of Hotch, did Hotch feel his—?

Pants first. Crisis second. Wait no, bathroom first oh god.

It took Reid three tries to go in the right direction of his bathroom, where he relieved himself and grabbed Tylenol for his throbbing hangover. On the way through his messy room he crashed into his door in his haste to jump into sweats, change into a new shirt that didn’t smell like Hotch. As much as he tried he was unable to invoke any memories through the fog. It all turned to nothing like he fell asleep in the middle of chatting up an attractive, older brunet and—oh, that was a new memory.

Hotch didn’t comment on the crashing and thumping he must have heard when Reid came back out, leaning against his kitchen counter still in nothing but his undershirt and boxers, his hair no less tamed though Reid could tell he tried. His eyes were clear with wakefulness, though he hadn’t quite drudged up the stern appraisal that was near constant in their workplace. He still looked, in a word, soft from rest. If anything he was considerate of his space, not taking up more room than necessary with hands braced on his counter, out of the way of Reid’s direct path back into the open main room. Reid had never seen him in anything but suits or warm, comfy clothes almost a size too big. He was in good shape, as Reid had been made acutely aware of the tone of his stomach when laying on top—

Focus, Reid.

Reid crossed his own arms tight over his body, rubbed at his cheek when no immediate words came. Was it more appropriate to offer food or thanks when one woke up straddling their boss with no memory of how it happened? He couldn’t give Hotch an out, not with the dryer still holding hostage what he presumed to be the rest of his clothes. What the hell happened?

“I don’t think I’ve ever blacked out before,” Reid conceded, though it sounded more like an excuse. Old movies of girls who would never sacrifice their sensibilities unless under the duress of a hot man flittered by and Reid was disappointed at himself. He shook his head clear of those thoughts.

“I figured,” Hotch replied, still surprisingly level. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“…Sitting on the lap of a 40-some-year-old male with dark hair.”

“Ah.” Hotch’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He cleared his throat and suddenly found Reid’s couch unavoidably mesmerizing.

Reid studied him through narrowed eyes, and then horror flooded his veins as he whispered, “Was that you?”

Hotch’s eyes bugged out of his head, “What? No!”

“Oh.” The horror faded away. “Good.” He wasn’t a total mess then. Reid’s eyes went wide again though, at the realization he just asked his boss that question.

Reid looked back to Hotch, and his face looked sunburnt.

“Can we forget I asked that.”

“Fine by me.”

Reid still wasn’t sure how to request Hotch’s memories of last night. It felt like retribution, not being able to recall how he ended up waking to his boss artfully disheveled underneath him and his clothes apparently ruined enough to need laundering. It may be a good thing, honestly. Reid never blacked out; he wasn’t one of those people that could, or so he thought. He always got sick before he drank so much that it shut down his brain. Who knew how he had embarrassed himself in front of his coworker?

Yeah, that seemed right; lust after his married straight boss, live with shame for eternity.

Reid chewed his lip before saying, “I can’t believe you stayed. Isn’t Haley worried about you?”

Hotch cleared his throat, mumbled “It isn’t a problem,” and provided no additional input.

Well, this wasn’t awkward at all.

He felt bad just standing here. A check to his phone—placed in the charger, which was not something even sober Reid did, so Hotch continued to be nice last night too—showed it was past 9am and if his stomach was gurgling, he had to assume Hotch’s was, too. He also felt bad Hotch was still in boxers.

“You know, I have some shorts that might —”

“We tried that,” Hotch replied, his mouth tightening.

Reid’s eye twitched and cursed black-out Reid. “I have sweatpants too, they—”

“Also tried that.” Hotch furthered, and Reid groaned inwardly.

“Do you want food?” Reid tried, “You don’t have to fit into that. And I have a spare hairbrush, if you…”

Hotch’s mouth twitched, still a little bit tense, and he covered his mouth with his hand. Reid blinked at him. He swore he saw…

“Are you…are you laughing at me?”

Hotch stared up at him from above his palm, “No?”

Reid’s mouth hung open, “You are!”

Hotch’s shoulders shook for a second, forced out behind his palm. “I swear I’m not.”

Reid threw his hands up. It was hell. He died and went to hell. He got the rare chance of seeing his boss half-naked in his apartment, glowing in morning light, and it was punishment.

“Thanks, Hotch,” Reid groused, and he hated how defensive it sounded. He was not in a place to be the angry one here, but—but of all people, he didn’t expect Hotch to be cruel.

“No, Reid,” the laugh was gone in his voice now, “I’m sorry, I swear I’m not laughing at you.”

“Your laughter says otherwise.”

“No, it’s just.” Hotch stammered behind his back. “You’re astoundingly hospitable. It’s… I was laughing because you offered the same things last night, and you haven’t even—how are you so generous right now?”

Reid’s face twisted up in confusion, he turned back to Hotch. “What does that mean?”

“I…” Hotch scratched his head, “You weren’t in the best of conditions last night.”

The contriteness in Hotch’s statement, the averted gaze and the next memory slapping him in the face suddenly made a question creep up. Reid was in a gay bar last night.

Reid squinted his eyes, “Wait, why were you there last night?”

“Um,” Hotch replied eloquently, scratched at his jaw. “I might…have been. Concerned. About you.”

Reid blinked, “And what does that mean?”

Hotch sighed, his arms crossing and schooled his features back to what passed for stoic concern. “It means I followed you after work.”

“You…” Reid balked, “You did what?”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #hotch/reid #heid #my writing #my fic #idek man #drabble #fanfic

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imagineaworlds · 4 years

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I Love You (Part Fifteen) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, mentions of Dom/sub relationship, cursing, murder, mentions of sexual assault, literally everything Criminal Minds, okie.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 8707

Timeline: Season 2 Episode 23. Day after part fourteen.

Hotch's arm tightened around my shoulders gingerly and lovingly. I leaned into his side, lifting my feet up onto the empty space on the couch to my left. Jack shifted around on the couch uncomfortably before giving up and asking if he could lay with me. I nodded and pressed my back against the couch to make more room for Jack to cuddle up in front of me. Jack crawled over and laid down with me, all three of us still facing the TV, trying to watch the movie Jack had picked out for the night. I lightly combed Jack’s hair with my fingers as he nuzzled against me.

Jack had been staying at our house for a couple of days since we returned from our case in Kansas City, and every night after dinner, he insisted that we would watch a movie together. The first night, it was fine because Jack had no homework, but the next night, Hotch had to use tough love to make him do his homework before we could wind down for a movie. The night after that, it was Friday, which meant that we had all the time in the world to do whatever Jack wanted. Naturally, when we picked him up from school, he wanted to go to the park. We headed home first to change because Hotch and I were still in work clothes, and Jack was covered in food from lunch and mud from recess. We walked to the park after that and played some soccer with him. Hotch was considerably bad at being goalie, even against a kid, but Jack had fun, and that was all that mattered— not to mention that Jack and I got to team up against Hotch, which was extremely fun for me.

Then, after that, when the sun was going down and it started to get cold, we headed back to the house and threw a frozen pizza in the oven. Jack picked out a couple of kid’s movies that he wanted to watch, and we spent the night doing that, eating pizza, and, of course, ice cream— to which Hotch was less than pleased about, if I were to be honest. I vouched for Jack, though, and promised that it wouldn’t rile him up and he would go straight to bed after the next movie. Hotch gave in after Jack and I teamed up against him again in order to gain his permission, though he didn’t exactly believe us. The good news was, Jack did indeed start to get tired about half way through the second movie, which was a relief.

It was nice that Jack trusted me to ask if he could lay down with me. All three of us were cuddled against each other with Hotch holding me, and Jack wrapped in my arms. I felt at total peace when Jack rested his head on my arm that was tucked under him. I wasn’t sure what more I could ask for in life now that I had him and Hotch. They were everything I needed, but I didn’t even know that I wanted this until Hotch came along. It all took me by surprise, but that was what made it so marvelous.

Hotch’s phone started ringing just as I was about to fall asleep in his arms. I groaned and sat up slightly so that Hotch could sneak out from under me. He pushed himself off the couch and hurried into the kitchen to answer the call without disturbing us further. Jack shifted around again like he was trying to trap me on the couch, as if he had to guess that the call was about work and he didn’t want me to go.

Just as Jack guessed, after a few minutes, Hotch leaned over the back of the couch and tapped my shoulder. I tilted my chin upwards to look at him. “We need to talk,” he whispered. I nodded to him.

“Alright, little man, let’s pause the movie real quick.” I slid my arm out from under Jack before we both sat up all the way. He rubbed his eyes out of exhaustion and yawned. I kissed the top of his head as I stood up, then followed Hotch into the kitchen. “Duty calls?” I inquired once we were alone.

Hotch shook his head. He rested his palms against the kitchen island and leaned forward. His phone was sitting right in front of him on the table, yet he didn’t touch it. “That was Strauss,” he admitted, gesturing to his phone with a short nod. I scrunched my brows together. “The team is going to be put under review starting Monday.”

“It’s too early for the annual department reviews,” I commented.

He nodded, “I know. They’re saying it’s a review, but it’s really an investigation because of everything that’s been going on recently.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Gideon’s been investigated in the past, your sister shot and killed a cleared suspect and that was put under investigation, Morgan was arrested earlier as a murder suspect, Spencer… Well… Spencer hasn’t been the same since Tobias Hankle took him, and you’re dating your superior months after you were just promoted to the team. It all makes me look irresponsible. It makes it look like I’m not doing my job.”

“But that’s not true— they’ll see that in the investigation.”

Hotch shook his head again, “Mine is the only file they didn’t pull.”

My heart sank. “What does that mean?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “It means that they have already made their minds up about my performance.”

“It’s total bullshit, Aaron. They can’t do this.”

“They can, and they have. The only thing we can do now is cross our fingers that during their investigation of the rest of the team, they might change their minds.” When he paused to think, he looked at me and saw the worry that had washed over me. His shoulders relaxed and his face softened as he stepped towards me. He took my hands in his, “Listen… Just because they didn’t pull my file, doesn’t mean they’re going to fire me. Maybe they think that I’m the best unit chief out there—”

“Which you are.”

He snickered, “Right.” His face fell flat again as he wanted to go back to being serious and sincere. “This doesn’t mean that it’s the end. Okay? So, just...” he smiled lightly to raise the mood a bit, “just be you while they do what they need to do for the evaluations.”

I carefully pulled one of my hands from his and reached up to brush some of his hair that was in his face. “We’re going to be okay,” I reassured him. He nodded slightly. “You should call Gideon and tell him.” He nodded again. “I’ll stay with you,” I said after noticing how uneasy he was about all of this. Hotch loved his job so much, and we all needed him on the team. He was the glue that held us together. If we lost him, we wouldn’t make it much further. And if he lost us… I don’t think either of us wanted to think about it.

Hotch pressed his forehead to mine and let out a quiet breath that he had been holding in his chest for so long. His eyes fell shut and he just took a moment to ground himself as our hands stayed clasped together and I played with his hair to calm him down. His breath was hot on my lips, but he didn’t kiss me yet. We just held each other, and that was all he needed for a moment.

“We’re going to be okay, just like you said,” I told him after a few minutes of silence and I was sure that he had calmed down.

He tilted my head up with his free hand and he kissed me with so much passion that I felt butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. I swore then and there that I would never get tired of that feeling. I used to think that couples like us— the ones who were sickeningly sweet— were obnoxious, but I suddenly understood the appeal. Every time he looked at me, it felt like I was seeing for the first time. Every time he touched me, my whole body felt like it was on fire, and I always needed more of him. A single touch was never enough. Anything but having all of him made me feel like I couldn’t breathe or move. His touch, his hold, his kisses, they all made me feel alive. Every time he kissed me, those butterflies reappeared, and they always refused to go away until I could hear him say the one thing that made me feel at home: “I love you.”

Hotch parted from me so that we could catch our breath. He licked his lips before turning to grab his phone from the kitchen island. He dialed Gideon’s number and I sat up on the table, then he brought the phone to his ears as it rang and he moved to stand between my legs. I grabbed the zipper of his quarter zip sweater and started playing with it. Hotch smiled and held my hand with slight force as a warning to stop. I squinted and kept going.

“Hey, what did I do?” Hotch asked, offended, once Gideon picked up the phone. “Roses?” I raised a brow. “Are you on a date?” My jaw dropped. Jason Gideon on a date? Who would have known… “And you didn’t tell me?” He put his free hand on my upper thigh. “Who are they for?” He waited for Gideon’s response. “An old college friend?” He whispered to me that Gideon wanted to know what kind of message roses send. “Roses are romantic, Jason. Get her some roses.”

“You never get me roses,” I pouted, sliding my hands down.

“You never ask for roses,” he told me. “Yeah, sorry, they’re here with me,” he said to Gideon on the phone. He paused to listen before bringing the phone down between us and putting it on speaker. Gideon was talking in the background with a florist about what kind of flowers to get besides roses. I chuckled quietly and buried my face in Hotch’s chest. Gideon came back to the phone and asked Hotch why he was calling. Hotch’s hand moved towards my knee. “Strauss called to tell us that the BAU is going to be evaluated.”

Gideon scoffed, “So what? It’s an annual evaluation.” That was what I originally thought, too. “Who cares?” Also something I had thought about.

“It’s not routine because it’s six months early. There’s been talk about the Bureau redistributing funds and making cuts in all departments.”

“So they take the jet? They take one of Garcia’s computers? C’est la vie.”

Hotch shook his head. “I think it’s going to be worse than that, Jason. I think we’ll lose members of the team if this gets out of hand somehow…” I lifted my head from his chest and eyed him with a look that said: “Tell him the whole truth.” Hotch bit his tongue for a moment while squinting at me, but then he gave in, “They didn’t pull my file.”

“Hotch, you’re the best unit chief I know. Don’t stress over it.”

“Jason, I’m the only unit chief you know,” he said with a plain face. I chortled at Hotch’s comment, but immediately stopped when his hand started gliding back up my thigh. The conversation was winding down with Gideon, everyone that needed to be covered had been said, and Hotch was starting to get a little handsy, so he decided to wrap things up. “Jason?” Gidon hummed a tone on the other side. “Button mums are something you give your mother… Go get the roses. Have fun.” Hotch hung up the call and slid his phone onto the table. “Why are you always so distracting?” he asked me before slamming his lips against mine.

I smirked against his kiss, “I just wanted to cheer you up.”

He leaned down ever so slightly to kiss my neck. “Remind me to get you roses in the morning.” I slapped his arm playfully, even though I silently appreciated the thought. Hotch hands slid onto my hips and he helped me off the kitchen island. “We should put him in bed,” he referenced Jack, who was still waiting on the couch for us.

“After?” I asked desperately.

He knew what I meant. He knew what I wanted because he wanted the same thing. “After…” He kissed me again with his arms wrapped around my waist. I leaned back with the kiss and sucked in a breath through my nose since he had caught me off guard. “Come on,” he pried himself away from me before things could get out of hand. He took my hand and led me out the door and back into the living room.

We walked around the couch, expecting to sit back down with Jack to finish the movie, but what we found melted my heart. Jack was asleep on the couch, curled up in the fetal position, his hands tucked under his head. I smiled and leaned into Hotch’s side. Jack looked so at peace. I didn’t want to move him for fear of waking him up by accident. I figured that there would be no harm in letting him sleep on the couch, right? Besides, if he woke up in the middle of the night, he could walk up to his room or come sleep in ours if he got scared.

“We should probably move him upstairs,” Hotch whispered, making a move to grab Jack.

I stopped him, “No, wait.” Hotch looked at me with a raised brow. “Just leave him…” I squeezed his hand and started dragging him away from the couch.

Together, we headed down the hallway past the kitchen, turned into the dining room, and made it to the stairs. I took a step up, then Hotch pulled at my hand gently, spinning me back around to face him. He took a step up to be even with me before pushing me against the wall and capturing my lips in another kiss. I thrust my hips against his to gain some friction between us, which only encouraged him to kiss me harder.

Hotch’s phone started buzzing. I moaned into his mouth in an attempt to distract him, but while his lips were still glued to mine, he pulled his phone out to see who was calling. He parted from me for a moment to take a look at the Caller I.D. before answering the call with a worried face. He nodded continuously as he listened to what the caller on the other end had to say. In the end, he said, “We’ll be there,” and hung up the phone. I slumped against the wall out of disappointment. I knew what that call meant, so I pushed myself off the wall and went to call Jessica to see if we could drop off Jack.

Hotch tried to catch my hand and apologize, but I escaped his reach. Every damn time something was about to happen, work always got in the way. It was either work or Jack; and while we loved both, sometimes I just wished that we could have some time to ourselves. Though I didn’t want to bitch about it because I knew that there was no more Hotch could do about it than I could, I knew that it would have to come up at some point soon— only after this whole evaluation debacle would be out of the way, though.

By the time I got off the phone with Jessica and returned to the living room, Hotch was already changed for work. He was carrying Jack as he continued to slumber against Hotch’s chest and shoulder. We made eye contact before I turned towards the staircase and hurried upstairs to get changed. Honestly, I lazily threw on the first pair of slacks I found on my side of the closet, matched with a wine red camisole and black suit jacket to cover up. I slid on a pair of black heels that were at the front of our closet, grabbed my badge and gun from the drawer in the bedside table, and hurried back downstairs.

Hotch carried Jack out to the car, I opened the door, and he buckled Jack in. Still, though, Jack didn’t wake or fret. I closed the door carefully and quietly before getting into the front passenger’s seat. Hotch started the car, but he waited to go. For a moment, he stared at his hands on the steering wheel like he was lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke up, not loud enough to wake up Jack, though. I shrugged and shook my head to tell him that I didn’t blame him. “I just… I don’t want this to always come between us…” His eyes glanced over his shoulder to see if Jack was still out of it. “Work always ended up coming between me and Haley, and I don’t want that to happen again. I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, but there’s only so much I can do.”

“You don’t have to do everything, Aaron. It’s okay to share your burdens, and it’s okay that work comes first. We both worked too hard to get where we are to not let it come first. We balance it the best we can. That’s all I can ask for.”

He bowed his head in shame. There was more on his mind, and it broke my heart that he had so much going on all at once. It was all too much for him to handle… I just didn’t want him to break as a result.

“The evaluations are going to go smoothly, you’re going to be praised by the Bureau for being the best unit chief they have, and I’m never going to give up on making things work.” I tried to find his eyes, but he kept looking away. “Do you hear me, Aaron Hotchner? I’m not going to stop fighting for you. Ever.” I grabbed his chin with my fingers when he still refused to look at me. “Getting called in for cases is nothing you can control. It’s annoying sometimes, yeah. No one likes it— not even Reid. But it’s the job. I’m not going to take that out on you.”

I think he needed to hear me explain that more than anything. Haley left him because he always put work over everything else, including his family. While he knew that his job was more than just catching bad guys, it was about making the world a safer place for his son; Haley never understood that. All she knew was that she was lucky to see her husband for even an entire twenty-four hours every few days. At some point, missing him just became too unbearable for her. She rathered the idea of leaving him all together to avoid getting her hopes up every time over staying and fighting to make things work. Haley was a good woman. She was nice to me when she certainly didn’t have to be. But I wasn’t going to give up as easily as she had. I wasn’t going to let the best thing that had ever happened to me slip out of my grasp.

“This works for us, even though it can be frustrating. We are who we are, and our job is what it is. I know that, you know it, and Jack knows it.” I took a moment to let his eyes search mine. “I’m sorry for how I reacted inside…”

Hotch slid his face out of my grip and he carefully pressed his foot on the gas before driving down the street. He took a left turn at the stop sign, then drove down two blocks before taking another left. We drove past six different houses before we pulled into Jessica’s driveway. Hotch sighed and unbuckled his seat. He got back out and grabbed Jack from the back, then carried him up the front door. Jessica appeared in her pajamas shortly after Hotch rang the doorbell, and she took Jack from him with a smile before closing the door again.

Once he was back in the car with me, Hotch started driving us to the crime scene we were called to. It wasn’t too far from our neighborhood, but it was certainly more in the city compared to where Hotch and I lived. As we slowed down and Hotch parked against the curb, I looked across the street to see the building which we had been called to.

“Hotch, isn’t this Gideon’s place?” I asked. While I had never actually laid eyes upon it myself, I recognized the street and building name because Hotch sometimes drove Gideon home if he was tired or didn’t have a ride for some reason.

Hotch examined the red brick exterior of the building as he called Gideon’s cellphone, but no one picked up. We both hurried out of the car, proceeded to walk across the street together when there were no cars, and hurried into the apartment building. Hotch held the elevator door open for me so that it wouldn’t shut before I could step in, and I pressed the button for the second floor. Gideon’s floor. When the elevator dinged and the doors reopened, we were immediately greeted by a group of local cops who were trying to trade places with us so that they could go back to the lobby. As we stepped into the hallway, I could hear the echo of officers’ walkie-talkies and cameras clicking with each photo taken. We followed the noise down to the tenth apartment in the hallway. The door was wide open, and a cop was standing to keep guard. Hotch and I both flashed our credentials in the cop’s face as we nonchalantly kept walking into the apartment.

This was Gideon’s place. He always had a strange fascination with birds, Charlie Chaplin, and trains. All three obsessions were enshrined in each room. The walls were covered with elegant art of all different kinds of birds, model trains lined the book shelves and tables around the place, and there was an old Charlie Chaplin poster framed and hung up in the living room.

Hotch led the way into the living room and we spun around in place to get a good look at the scene that was unfolding around us. The FBI already had units casing the place, the local PD was bagging evidence, and the coroner’s office was finishing up with the dead body on Gideon’s bed. Earlier, when Hotch had called Gideon to let him know about the investigation of the BAU, there was mention of Gideon going on a date— that was how the conversation of roses started up. All the pieces of the puzzle started to form together as the coroner moved away from the body on the bed and we could see that it was a woman in a nice, tight, black dress that someone would wear for special occasions. Gideon’s date.

“There’s so much blood…” I whispered to Hotch with a half breath. There was blood splattered on every wall imaginable in the apartment, but especially in the bedroom. The floor looked clean, like someone had cleaned up after themselves to get rid of footprints, but the sheets, the walls, and the ceilings were drenched like it had just rained blood. “If they already have a unit here… why were we called in?”

“For questioning,” Hotch whispered back. I raised a curious brow. Questioning for what? “Gideon’s likely the lead suspect in this case.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“I know,” he nodded, “but don’t you see how this looks? There’s a woman who was massacred in his home and he’s nowhere to be found.”

Hotch had a point, but it just couldn’t be possible. Sure, it looked like Gideon could have done this because all of the quick glance facts pointed to him, but we knew that Gideon wasn’t capable of something like this. Gideon already hated all of the crime and gore we saw at work. He wouldn’t kill someone— especially a date that he seemed nervous about.

“Maybe someone took him?” I speculated.

Hotch grabbed his phone from his pocket again. “Cover me,” he murmured, turning his back from the crowd of cops in the apartment. I stepped in front of everyone’s view of him and looked around to make sure that no one was watching.

As Hotch started to call Gideon again, a phone in the apartment started to ring. Both Hotch and I turned to see where the ringing was coming from, and found that Gideon’s cellphone was sitting on the table in the dining area. I threw my palm up to my forehead to push back my hair and to wipe away the nervous sweat that was starting to bead. A dead woman was on his bed, the apartment was set up for a date, Gideon’s phone was on the table, and the man himself was nowhere to be found. This looked really bad. It was really bad.

“I’m going to talk to the lead detective. Stay here. If the team shows up, tell them what you know as quietly as you can. We need to keep this quiet.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to investigate it, if we can.”

Hotch headed towards the bedroom to locate the lead detective, meanwhile I stayed and watched the door for any sign of our team. Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Reid all arrived a few minutes after, just as Hotch was finished speaking in the bedroom. Talk about good timing.

Morgan approached Hotch, both of them standing across from me now, while JJ, Emily, Reid stayed a few steps back to get a look at the scene. Morgan asked what all of this was about, and Hotch explained exactly what we figured would happen. Gideon was the lead suspect in the murder investigation of the woman on his bed— whoever she was. When Morgan tried to protest that outrageous claim, Hotch agreed with him, but explained, “At least six witnesses claimed to see him running out of this building while covered in blood. We’re under strict orders to not get involved because of the conflict in interest.” We all fell silent during his explanation, just trying to piece together how this could have happened. Gideon wouldn’t have done this— He couldn’t have! There was absolutely no way that he was capable of it, and we were the only people who knew that and could clear his name. Despite what Hotch said about our orders to stay out of it, the five of us all exchanged glances that implied we weren’t going to let this go. We owed that much to Gideon.

“Well, who spoke to him last?” Emily asked before turning to look into the bedroom.

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest, “We talked to him about two hours ago, but I don’t know if that’s the last call he had or not.”

“I could check his phone,” Reid offered quietly.

Hotch’s stern gaze snapped over to him. We had our orders to not get involved, but we were all antsy to do so, anyhow. Hotch was a rule follower by nature, but there were times when he let things slide— for instance, what happened on the jet to St. Louis, or even what happened in his office after he found out that Morgan and I took the Mulford file the other day. Reid was the first to flat out suggest breaking the rules in order to help Gideon, so now it was just a waiting game to see if Hotch would give in or not. If anything happened— if we got caught snooping around, protecting Gideon, or obstructing the investigation in any way, it would be on his head, not ours; and with the evaluations approaching in less than two days, and Hotch worried about his job, I thought that there was no way in hell he’d ever let us—

“Do it,” Hotch nodded slightly. Reid turned in his heels and headed to grab the phone resting on the table. Hotch addressed the rest of us to expand on the call we had with Gideon earlier, “He said that he was running late for a date, and that he didn’t know what kind of flowers to get.”

“Do we even know who she is?” Morgan asked.

“An old school friend, apparently.” Hotch looked to Emily, “Figure out what you can about the body. Quickly.” She nodded and stepped all the way into the bedroom as smoothly as she could so as to not raise alarm about her sudden interest in the body. “JJ, use your cellphone to go around and record everything around this place, then send it all to Garcia. Take pictures, videos, everything.” JJ grabbed her phone and headed to document everything starting at the door. “Go take a look around,” he whispered to me and Morgan with a hand on my arm. “Discreetly.”

Morgan and I started at the door, just after JJ had cleared out of there. I put my fingers on the doorframe and ran my finger over the wood. No cracks, no breakage, no sign of forced entry at all. The door was unlocked, but the doorknobs had been polished recently, probably to get rid of fingerprints— not that it mattered since so many people from the FBI and the PD had put their hands on it without gloves. The carpet in front of the door was all scrunched and crinkled, which could have been a sign of a struggle, but since the scene had already been contaminated by a handful of officers trampling in and out of the apartment, there was no way to tell for sure. Besides the carpet, however, the lamp that was on the desk in the entryway was now unplugged and broken, but no blood; so neither the Unsub nor the victim used it as a weapon. If there was a struggle, this was our only clue.

We made our way through the entryway and into the dining area. The table was still set up exactly as it had been found, except for the fact that Spencer was looking through Gideon’s phone to see if he was in contact with anyone else besides me and Hotch. There were two dining sets across from one another with full glasses of wine beside them, everything untouched. They hadn’t sat down to eat or drink yet. Why go through the trouble of setting this all up if he was just going to kill her the first chance he got? Easy answer: because he wasn’t the one to kill her. Hard question to follow that answer: who did kill her, then?

The living room was undisturbed entirely. No blood, no sign of a struggle, nothing out of place. It looked as perfect as Gideon would have left it since he was expecting a special guest. So to determine what happened, we had to piece together how this happened. There was no sign of a break-in, which was likely going to point more fingers at Gideon since it was his home and he wouldn’t need to break in. But besides that, who could have been able to get into the apartment without having to break the lock or kick down the door? Someone who was let in. So the victim heard a knock at the door, and since she was expecting Gideon, she opened it, only to find that the Unsub was standing there. Startled, the victim was either pushed into the lamp or happened to back up against the desk fast enough to send it falling to the ground. She was forced into the apartment, somehow either led or carried to the bedroom, and then murdered there.

I neared Hotch’s side, our shoulders touched, but we faced opposite directions. “No sign of a struggle, no sign of a break in, no sign that she was under duress.”

“The lamp and the rugs?” he asked me quietly.

“Could have been caused by Gideon after he found the body or any of the cops who have been coming and going. There’s no way to know.”

Hotch sighed and scratched his chin while he thought. “Emily says that the Unsub tore apart her stomach in order to take various organs. He was precise with his clean cuts using a scalpel. There were traces of arousal, but no sign of any penetration.”

“He’s sexually motivated, then.”

“A sexually sadistic psychopath, actually, according to Emily. There’s something else, though…” He hesitated and I looked out the corner of my eye to glance at him. “Do you remember when the team had that case in Nevada where the Unsub got away?”

I mean, remembered Hotch telling me about it after he came back from that case. After St. Louis, when the Hollow Man took me and put a gun to my back and head, Hotch was less than eager to put me back in the field. He didn’t like that things got out of control between us, and he certainly didn’t like someone threatening my life. All of that added up to the fact that he put me on desk duty for two weeks as probation— as if I weren’t the victim in that situation. It was frustrating at the time because the team kept going on cases, and I wasn't there to have their backs, but there was one case that seemed to irk everyone. They had traveled to Nevada to track down a serial killer. Gideon and Morgan had him trapped in a diner. They thought they won. But this Unsub… Frank something… he was one step ahead. He knew that the team was onto him, so he found an out for himself by taking a school bus full of children hostage. Gideon and Morgan had no choice but to let him go. Once they did, they couldn’t find him again. The trail went cold, so they had no choice but to come home and move onto the next case until he would strike again.

Hotch continued with his explanation after I gave a short nod, “His M.O. was to take the rib bones and give them to the woman he was infatuated with, Jane Hanratty is her name.” I shrugged. What did this have to do with the case? Hotch said that this Unsub cut open her stomach and took organs. “He removed her lower right rib bone,” he answered my silent question, “and he left it in her hand for us to see. He wants us to know that he’s back.”

Emily approached Hotch’s other shoulder and faced the same direction I was. “We should tell the police.”

“Just wait,” Hotch whispered. “We don’t have any physical evidence that Frank did this. We have speculations, but we’re biased. Every way you can interpret this scene, if you don’t know who Frank is, leads back to Gideon— which is on purpose. Frank wants to take Gideon down, and he’ll stop at nothing to make sure it happens. In the time it would take to tell the police everything and convince them that we’re right, Frank could kill Gideon and a handful of other people. We don’t have time to waste.”

“You said that he did this all for Jane last time,” I spoke up. “What changed between them to make him lash out again?”

Both Emily and Hotch shrugged, but she added a verbal response, “Maybe she’s dead. Maybe he killed her and he’s mad at himself?”

“Psychopaths aren’t capable of feeling love or remorse, though.”

“Clearly Frank is different,” Hotch responded. “Emily, take the others to see if you can find Gideon in the area, and if not, head back to the office. We need to get ahead of this before it’s too late.”

“What about you guys?” she asked us.

“We’ll stay here to answer any questions the PD will have, and we’ll continue to quietly monitor the investigation. Just wait for my calls.”

Emily nodded before leaving with the rest of the team. Hotch finally let out a sigh and faced me. This was bad. Really fucking bad. If their theory about Frank was true, then Gideon was in a lot more trouble than we had anticipated. A psychopath was out there with a vendetta against Gideon. He started with trying to frame him, but since that wasn’t exactly panning out, there was only so long Gideon could run and hide from Frank.

Hotch’s phone started ringing again. Surprise, surprise. He answered as quickly as possible. “Hello?” He waited a beat. “Hello?” Still waiting. Then his face perked up with interest. “Where are you?” Hotch eyed me out the corner of my eye, and I knew that it had to be Gideon. “Was Jane with him?” So it was Frank who had done this, and it was all about Jane. “He called you?” his brows narrowed. “Do not, under any circumstances, turn yourself in. Do you hear me? If you do that, this investigation moves into an interrogation room and everyone will have their tunnel vision focused on locking you up and not finding Frank. We know who he is, we’ve handled him before. Help us find the why so that we can finally catch him. Alright?” He waited another few seconds to listen. “Find somewhere quiet to work, we’ll take care of the rest. I’ll send Garcia to you with anything you need.” He pulled the phone from his ear and buried it in his pocket without giving Gideon a proper goodbye. Hotch looked at me, “Let’s talk outside.”

I nodded and followed him quietly out of the apartment building. Out on the street, the team was just getting back from searching the area for Gideon like Hotch had instructed. We avoided them before they could see us and headed to an alleyway across the street. We approached a dumpster and came to a slow and steady stop. Hotch stared at it and sighed. It smelled absolutely disgusting, even from where we were standing on the other side. I prayed to myself that Hotch wasn’t about to do what I thought he was going to do. I promised myself right then that if he did, I wouldn’t sleep with him for a week— hell, I don’t think I would have touched him for a week. Even if he wanted to kiss me or sleep in the bed with me, he was going to have tough as shit luck.

“Please don’t,” I begged after he gave me a regretful look. “I know I was all sappy in the car and promised to always fight for you and to make this work, but I swear to god, Aaron Hotchner, if you get in that dumpster right now, I will leave you.”

“Gideon said that Frank dropped something in there as he was running after him.”

I stared at him with a flat face. Like, couldn't he make Morgan do it? Hotch was still kind of mad at us for taking the file when he felt that it was his responsibility to complete the report, not ours. This could have been, like, some kind of punishment for Morgan… right?

“I love you?” he treaded carefully. I shook my head. “You could at least say it before I go digging around in a dumpster.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You’ve hit rock bottom, Agent Hotchner. I refuse to let those three words leave my mouth in regards to you ever again.”

Hotch rolled his eyes and groaned out of annoyance as he stepped up to the dumpster. “You say that now,” he pulled himself up, “but you’re always begging to say it when we’re alone,” he pushed himself over the edge, “and in the bedroom,” he landed on his feet in the dumpster.

I shook my head, “I have never been more attracted to you in my whole life.”

“Sarcasm. Nice. We’ll see where that gets you after this is all over with and we’re back at home.” He held his breath as he bent down to start searching in the dark for whatever Frank must have left in there, according to Gideon.

After a few minutes, Hotch laughed in a state of eureka and lifted a plastic bag over his head. He held it out for me and I took it so that he could pull himself out of the dumpster. I started shuffling a few steps to get ahead of him before he could try to grab my waist and pull me in for a kiss or something. I opened the bag as we neared the end of the alleyway and there were finally street lamps to help me see. Unsurprisingly, there were bloody clothes all shoved inside without care. If everyone saw Gideon running out of the building, but no one saw Frank, this was likely why. He knew that he had to blend in, so he changed into Gideon’s clothes and walked out of the apartment like nothing happened.

Hotch and I headed back across the street and met up with the team as they were discussing our options going forward. Morgan spotted us approaching and pointed us out to JJ, Emily, and Reid. They all turned and I held the bag up to show them what we had been off doing. Hotch explained that Gideon told him over the phone to go looking for it in the dumpster, and Morgan cracked a joke that he could tell where we had been without us needing to say it.

“This is all the proof we need now, though, right? I mean, we can turn Frank into the MPD to clear Gideon’s name,” Emily said.

“By the time this comes back from the lab, Frank will be long gone,” Hotch responded while shaking his head.

“If the cops find out that we’re hiding evidence and a material witness from them, then—” Morgan began.

“We’re not hiding evidence. We’ll still turn it over to forensics, but we need to keep looking for Frank if we’re going to stop him.”

“Agent Morgan?” a kid asked as he skated over to us on his skateboard. We all turned with confusion plastered to our faces. “They say beauty can cover a multitude of sins, while underneath it all, we all look exactly the same.”

Morgan started frantically looking over his shoulders for something— or someone. “Frank said that to me in the diner,” he explained to us while still searching around.

“Give me Jane or I’ll kill them all,” the boy continued.

Morgan stopped to look at Hotch with wide eyes. “Frank thinks that we have Jane?”

“Can I have my $10 now?”

I scrunched my brows together while the rest of the team ignored him to discuss the fact that Frank was doing all of this because he thought that we had Jane. She wasn’t dead like Emily had guessed. She was somewhere out there, but she wasn’t with us nor Frank. If we were going to end this, and save whoever it was he was threatening this time, then we needed to find her fast. Hotch told JJ to call Garcia and have her meet Gideon on Lowland Avenue. JJ nodded and stepped off to go do as she was told.

“Hey, yo, my $10, man,” the kid poked Morgan’s arm. Morgan shrugged off the kid’s touch while still talking to Hotch. “Come on!” I rolled my eyes before pulling out my wallet and handing the kid his $10 so that he would just go away.

“Gideon mentioned that he saw Jane just before Frank killed the woman upstairs,” Hotch explained. “She’s in town and Frank thinks that we have her. If we find her, we get Frank. That has to be our play.”

“The last time we found Frank, he outsmarted us by taking a busload of children hostage. He didn’t give us options before, what makes you think he won’t do the same this time around?” Emily inquired.

“Frank’s message said ‘I’ll kill them all’,” Spencer commented. “Who is he referring to?”

JJ came back from her call with Garcia. ”She’s on her way to meet him now,” she told Hotch. “She said that she looked through everything I sent her, and the one thing that stood out to her was that in Gideon’s black leather-bound book, the first page was missing. She said that all that was left of what was there was a list of numbers.”

“It’s his murder book,” Hotch clarified to us. “The front page, it’s a list of all of the people he has ever saved. He has all of their information in it because he likes to keep up to date with them to remind himself why he still does this. And now Frank has the list.”

“Frank said that he’s going to kill them all,” I said. “He’s going after the people who encourage Gideon to keep doing this job.”

“JJ, when we get back to the office, start locating all of the nearest possible targets. Those of them that still talk to him are memorialized in photos on his desk in his office. Start there. The rest of us will try to narrow down where Jane could possibly be.”

Everyone hurried back to their cars and we started racing towards Quantico. I told Hotch when we got in the car together that he should probably change into the clothes in his go bag when we would get there since he smelled from digging in the trash. He agreed and told me that I should start profiling all of the victims Gideon saved in recent years. I was the only one who was able to profile Gideon before when I was first offered the spot on the team, so I could do it again. Gideon had favorites, it was just a matter of finding the ten or so needles in a haystack of thousands of different possibilities.

At the office, Hotch hurried into his office to grab his go bag and to change in the bathroom. The rest of us headed into the boardroom to start narrowing down the endless options. JJ already had all of Gideon’s framed photos from his office set up on the table by the time I sat down. She turned one of them over to face me and asked if I knew who it was standing next to Gideon in the image. I told her that it was Gideon’s son, and that we should not concern ourselves with him because he wouldn’t be listed in the journal. JJ threw her hands up in surrender, her eyes widening as she gave the table a look that said: “I’m sorry I asked.”

Hotch came up the ramp and stormed into the board room, “JJ, did you talk to the media yet?”

“They already have Frank and Jane’s names and faces. They’ll run it with the morning news.”

“Good. We need to make sure that we get to her first so that we can interrogate her.”

“Is that the wise thing to do?” Morgan questioned.

“Not at all, but it’s our only chance of taking Frank down. He’s in love with her, so he likely told her everything about himself. Have we made any progress with this?” He gestured to the table of photos.

“We think we have it narrowed down to nine,” Reid answered. “All nine of them are in the city, are in constant contact with Gideon via email and phone calls, and they’re all doing well for themselves since the investigations including them concluded.”

“Now it’s just down to calling all of them to warn them,” Emily said.

“Everyone grab a file and start dialing a number,” Hotch ordered, taking a seat.

We all reached into the middle and grabbed a case each, but JJ, Hotch, and I took one extra. I started with my first call to Elizabeth Reynolds. She picked up after the second ring. I told her that I was an agent with the FBI, and I was wondering if she was at home and safe. She told me that she was with her family at her mother’s house in Vermont. When she proceeded to ask what this was all about, I told her that it was just a routine check in and concluded my call with her. Everyone else seemed to have the same shit luck finding any leads with their calls as they ended at the same time. Hotch was already through his second one, that was how fast we were calling around. JJ was in the middle of her call as I grabbed Rebecca Garner’s file. It looked like she had changed her last name to Brian since we rescued her a few months ago, and, honestly, I couldn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t want anything to do with the name Garner either.

I bit my lip as the line buzzed between each ring. It took about four rings for the call to be picked up on the other end. I waited for someone else to say something to make sure I wouldn’t give away who was calling just in case it was anyone but Rebecca.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Rebecca Brian? This is Y/N Greenaway. I was one of the agents who rescued you from your father’s house.”

“He’s not Agent Gideon, is he?”

My blood ran cold. Everyone in the room turned to face the speaker. I looked up at Hotch and searched his eyes for comfort, maybe? I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. The Fisher King case was one of the first big ones I had worked on with the team. Randall Garner fucked with all of us just because he thought he was stuck in some fantasy world where we were the Knights of the Round Table and we could somehow cure his burns. He did all of that, plus he kidnapped his only surviving daughter, all just to lure us to his house. We saved Rebecca. We won that night. This shouldn’t have had to happen to her again.

Hotch leaned over the table, “Rebecca, this is Agent Aaron Hotchner. If you can, very calmly excuse yourself and get out of the house. Can you do that?”

“What’s going on?” she asked with worry.

We heard her whimper on the other end of the call, and then there was a loud crash.

“Rebecca?” I called for her calmly. “Rebecca? Are you still there?” There was no response. “Rebecca?”

“There you are, Agent Greenaway,” Frank said into the call. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. Well, at least to hear your voice. I regret to inform you that Rebecca’s name should be moved to a new list.”

“Frank, we don’t have Jane,” Hotch spoke up.

“I will not stop until I have her back.” And then he hung up.

We all looked at each other as silence hung in the air. We were too late. Frank had already gotten to her, and by the time we could get to her house, she would be dead. What were we supposed to do? He would be gone from her apartment before we could even get there. There was literally nothing we could do to save her. We spent those three agonizingly long days trying to take Randall Garner down and save Rebecca Garner. Elle got shot because of that case. Saving Rebecca was a huge win for us, and now Frank had stolen that victory from us.

The only thing we could do was head to Rebecca’s apartment and see if Frank left any clues with her body… That was the sad truth. There was no race to get there, there was no need to call in the SWAT team for back up, and there was no reason to even gear up with our vests.

We failed her entirely.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines

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studiobeebo · 4 years

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Hey Bee, super excited to see you writing again even if just for a bit! Might I be so bold as to ask for Hawks making breakfast in bed for reader? 🍳 I'd love some snuggly domestic fluff. Also, are people submitting pets? I'm not sure why or if it's a thing, but incoming pictures of my little bastard fur baby.

HHHHHHH VIX I HOPE THIS IS BETTER LATE THAN NEVER TY FOR REQUESTING MY FAV CHICKEN ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE BEEN INSPIRED TO WRITE FOR HIM ALSO THANK U FOR SHOWING ME UR BASTARD

Hawks / Keigo Takami

Legally, even heroes amongst the top ranks were required to have days off. An unstable hero is an ineffective hero, after all. For a long time, however, days off were just that for Keigo: a necessary component to be the hero he was trained to be. It took him a while to see days off as most people saw it, a time to relax, even if those days off were usually interrupted in one way or another. Still, that never stopped him from dreaming of a world where he could have genuine free time to fill with whatever random shit he could think of, but for now he was making do with ‘enjoying the little things’, something that you had drilled into his brain when the two of you first started talking, and since then he’d had plenty of time to realize that you were one of his favorite ‘little things’ to enjoy.

He didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with you, but over time you became one of the main factors in why he wanted to be done with the difficulty of hero work. He liked being with you, as cheesy as it sounded, and he found himself always hoping he’d have a little extra time in his day to swing by your place so the two of you could talk over lame late night sitcoms and some terribly unhealthy food.

The two of you never outright called your little get togethers ‘dates’ and you never even dared get into the conversation of finally calling it how it is and saying you were together, but compared to just about everything else in his life, the issue there wasn’t actually his job, it was just how the two of you were. Despite how cheeky and suave he liked to act, he could never really figure out the right way to go about this sort of thing. He mulled over the idea of just flat out asking or mentioned the two of you dating, he never had problems keeping other things to himself anyways so it sounded like the most natural way to go, but he could never bring himself to just say something. It never felt like the right time and to be fair, you could always be the one to say something too but you found yourself in the same dilemma. It seemed like the two of you were in a constant cycle of ‘Eh, I’ll just bring it up next time’, always assuming but never really realizing how much the other wanted to make things a bit more official.

So that’s how things went and have been going, the two of you dancing around the idea of just sharing your feelings and growing closer in the process. Even with work becoming more overbearing than ever, he still always managed to get lost in the way you made him feel the moment the two of you were together. You, on the other hand, spent your time excitedly wondering when he’d come by next, even going as far as to try and spend more evenings at home instead of out with friends just to heighten the chance of hanging out with him. Needless to say, you knew you were head over heels for that winged idiot and after weeks of consideration you finally decided on saving your confession for a few days before the upcoming White Day.

The idea was that, if he returned your feelings like you hoped he would, you’d then be able to get him a gift a few days later. Cliche maybe, but you figured that would make for an extra special anniversary if things ever happened to get that far. Plus, even if he rejected you, you figured at least that wouldn’t ruin the holiday for either of you.

Unlike you, Keigo really wasn’t that inept at the whole ‘think before you act’ thing in regards to relationships.

He wasn’t an idiot (well, not in this regard) and he knew he had insane hots for you at this point and since his idea of just casually dropping that he wanted to be with you wasn’t coming to fruition, he figured he’d try to do something a little more structured and came up with what he thought was a fantastic idea.

Valentine’s Day was romantic, right? So what better day to confess his feelings? He didn’t bother worrying about the whole ‘what if you say no’ thing and instead started thinking about what he could do to make it less lame than ‘hey we should go out for real’. He started paying more mind to couples he’d see out and about while patrolling and even would watch any of the seasonal abundance of romance movies that he’d pass by while scrolling through television channels when he had the time, but everything he saw seemed a bit too romantic and totally not his style. He wanted to do something sweet but a bit more laid back and with no other thoughts in mind, after some time he finally settled on the classic act of breakfast in bed.

Of course in his plans he sort of omitted a few things that tend to make ‘breakfast in bed’ a special thing, the first being that, well..he didn’t know how to go about cooking breakfast. Growing up his diet was extremely regulated and he was rarely allowed to cook for himself, so the only things that were his choice were snack foods or pre made meals he’d grab from a 7/11. Sure he was a few years out of the constant regulations and overbearing ‘caretakers’, but he was out of the frying pan and into the fire in a way so he never had a lot of chances to improve his skills past a basic enough level of cooking to keep himself alive.

With that in mind, his plan was to pick something nice up for you and maybe if he was feeling it he’d get some flowers or something as well before finally stopping by and sneaking in with the extra key you had given him to surprise you. You’d probably call him a loser for waking up so early, ask him what the hell he did this for, and his answer would be that somehow he managed to fall for you. It was easy as pie in his mind and he was actually pretty chipper in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, but things never quite go as planned for him, do they?

For starters he was out much later than he had planned the night before which pissed him off because every little issue that popped up felt so insignificant and not worth the price of pushing back his plans. He wasn’t some narcissistic asshole, but when he’s out until three in the morning dealing with little mishaps that cops should have been able to handle, he tends to get a bit irritated despite not showing it. Still, by the time he got home he barely had a few hours to rest before he had to get his plan into motion of picking up things and making his way to you. He wasn’t even planning on closing his eyes when he sat down for a ‘minute’ and when he woke up an hour or so to a call for aid from his agency he barely had time to worry about what was ahead. Even then by the time he was done as the sun began to rise, not only was he behind in general but the call took him a good distance away from where you were so it would take at least an hour to fly there and even more to get what he needed so instead, in his exhausted state he ended up saying ‘fuck it’ and dropping his ass into a family mart, picking up a bagful of breakfast pastries and coffee, and then rushing over to your place where he was finally able to give his wings some damn rest.

He was relieved enough to have made it a little after the time you mentioned you usually woke up around and being as jittery as he was he didn’t give a second thought to unlocking your door and practically slamming it open in the process before cursing to himself for being so damn loud when this was supposed to be a surprise, but with all his clattering around he spilled still very hot coffee all over himself and proceeded to practically throw the bag of goods in surprise as he cussed himself out some more.

Of course meanwhile all that was happening on your end was being woken up by your front door being slammed open followed by noise and cursing. You immediately tensed as you snuck your way closer to the intrusion, a small knife in hand in the event your quirk was rendered useless. As your heart raced in your chest you rounded the corner before bracing yourself, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of the absolute idiot you had fallen in love with whisper-yelling at himself surrounded by a now spilled puddle of coffee and various packaged breakfast pastries.

“Keigo?!” You practically screamed, rushing over him to see what the hell he was doing, but when he looked up at you as if he should be surprised you couldn’t help but sigh and cross your arms.

“A knife?? Jesus, (Y/N) the hells’ a matter with you.” He said with a smile, only half preparing himself for the huff of annoyance and smack to the side of his head.

“What’s the matter with me?! What the hell are you doing breaking into my apartment and making a fool of yourself???”

That made him groan and run a hand through his hair as he looked around to realize exactly what you meant about him looking ridiculous.

“Well you gave me a key so I wasn’t really ‘breaking in’, right?” He questioned, raising a brow as he moved to grab a kitchen towel to attempt to blot his clothes dry, but when he saw the look on your face that screamed you were tired and cranky and not having his jokes, he finally let out a sigh before leaning his back up against your kitchen counter.

“Was trying to do the whole ‘breakfast in bed’ thing, figured it would be best to make myself look good to confess or whatever you want to call it, with it being Valentine’s Day and all.”

He immediately tensed as his brain caught up with what he had just said before slouching his shoulders upon realizing that in the end, he ended up going with his original plan of just blurting it out like an idiot.

You scoffed, bending over to begin to pick up what he had dropped before stopping in your tracks as you heard the rest of his sentence. Now your heart was beginning to beat faster for a different reason as your brain replayed what he had just said as you picked up one of the pastries off the ground. After a moment of calming yourself so you wouldn’t embarrassingly bust your own feelings open like you had planned to do in the upcoming month, you stood up and smiled, holding up a one of the things you had picked up.

“You tried to make yourself look good with store bought pastries and crappy convenience store coffee?” You teased, making your way over to him and stopping so you were face to face with him and that ridiculously annoying and attractive smirk of his.

“What can I say, if you don’t love me at my worst you probably won’t love me at my best.”

“What would you have done if I didn’t love you at all?”

“Pfft,” He huffed, “When you go sayin’ things like that it makes it sound like you do love me.”

A moment later his face dropped and he let out a quiet ‘Oh’ as you gave him a look that said ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say’. All this time not worrying about whether or not you actually liked him back and him thinking that surely you did since the two of you had gotten so close, and yet when you put it so clearly like that it made his stomach do ecstatic flips not knowing that you were just as thrilled as he was.

“That’s cool.” Was all he could manage to say, figuring he would save at least some of his pride by not going into a love stricken rant about just how much he had come to love you.

“Just cool?” You asked, biting at your cheek in an attempt to keep your smile at bay but failing miserably at keeping your happiness on the inside, your hands itching to do something you had only previously dreamed of as you reached up to rest your hands on his shoulders before actually wrapping them around his neck as he leaned into your touch which effectively bolstered your confidence and lowered any inhibitions you had.

“Maybe a bit more than ‘just cool’. At least extra cool, maybe even insanely cool if we really want to push it. But h-“ His words were pleasantly cut off by your lips pressing against his own, a little desperate and very much eager after waiting so long to feel his lips pressed against your own. He was supposed to be the cool and suave ‘Hawks’, the nation’s number two hero, but just like that he was melting against your touch as his hands gripped your waist, gently at first but giving a desperate tug as you finally pulled away from him and he tried to lean in for more, the only thing stopping him being the fact that he just had to savor the look of happiness on your face that he was sure matched his own as you bit your lip out of slight embarrassment as the wave of ‘I cannot believe I just did that’ finally hit, though to him that look along with the fact that he now knew you really liked him back only made you that much more attractive.

“Sorry..” You muttered, a smile still on your face as you couldn’t help but chuckle at seeing him flustered and looking so naturally himself, the self that you had learned to love maybe a bit too much. “I’ve been kinda wanting to do that for a while.”

If he wasn’t already relieved before, hearing you confirm that you’ve been aching to be his as much as he was yearning to be yours made his heart soar with adoration and a liiittle bit of an ego boost that he probably didn’t need.

“Was it cool? Even without breakfast or the bed?” He questioned, still trying to keep things casual in a way, but with you, even being in a position he never thought he’d actually be in, it was easy to act naturally since he so naturally loved you.

“Oh yeah.” You laughed, pulling him closely into a tight hug that fit the two of you together so perfectly that it made it feel like you should have done this ages ago. “Perfectly,-“ You pulled back, giving him a peck on the lips that felt so right it made you giddy, “Extra-“, another kiss, this time with him returning the favor while trying hard not to let his own excitement take him too far as he relished in the fact that this was real and you were his and if he could help it, there’d be nothing in the world to change that “- and insanely cool.”

#my hero academia #mha #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha #boku no hero academia #hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #bees hcs

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