#//Out of sight; but always close in case she needed it in a pinch

[cheynovak]

Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I’m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

--

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@imsiriuslyreal

[dutybcrne]

Rehashing/Redoing Adelinde hcs, now updated to match info of the story:

She is, by birth, Snezhnayan. Her real name is Ada Dorokhova.

She had no family to speak of, save her brother, Lev Dorokhov older than her by five years. The two were raised to join the Fatui ranks, as they had no other family to turn to.

Addie's brother had gone on to become a Pyroslinger. She remained a low-ranking operative, as he kept insisting he didn't want her to take on more dangerous missions. She learned diplomacy and banking instead, as well as picking up the various languages of the other nations and intel-gathering.

She did however learn to use his gun, at his insistence. She became a far better shot than he, even able to shoot a Mora coin from considerable distance with ease. It was this skill that allowed her to join her brother's company, in spite of her lower rank.

While dispatched to Mond, she and Lev took to intermingling with the locals out of uniform. While it was clear they weren't locals, many assumed and were told they were Fontanian to make things easier on them. It was during these times and interacting with the Mondstadt people that her brother began to have doubts about the Fatui's cause and the things they were taught to believe about the other people. He began to think that they could run from the Fatui and live a peaceful life here in Mondstadt. Because of him, she almost began to contemplate such things too

While expressing these thoughts to her, their company leader had overheard and had him arrested, intent on sending him back to Snezhnaya. In the ensuing struggle, Lev had been killed by his fellow Fatui.

She had been beside herself with grief, but even seeing that and knowing just how close the two had been, their superior officer kept telling her it was for the best, as a traitor like that would only hinder their mission. It was that very grief that had her taking up her brother's gun and turning it against her own comrades, slaughtering them all in a fit of rage.

She can scarcely remember anything from her rampage, save her feelings of grief and anger. From the moment she picked up her brother's weapon and took the first shot through her company leader's head, it was all a murky fog.

She does remember coming to and meeting Crepus Ragnvindr however, having stumbled across the Dawn Winery in running from the Fatui's now ravaged camp. She almost killed him too, had his abrupt query about her well-being and clear distressed concern not caught her off-guard.

After he talked her down and hearing her tale, he first offered her his coat to stave off the cold, then a place in his staff and a home in his manor as he helped treat her wounds. She rejected it promptly, not trusting why he would offer such a kindness to a Fatuus, though him outright lying to the knights who happened upon them and the carnage she'd wrought, that she'd been a mercenary who protected him from the Fatui, had been enough to sway her to trust him more. Especially when he'd left his coat in her care, a last comfort he could offer her and a promise to meet again before they'd part.

It would take several meetings after that before she would take his hand and be led home. During that time, she changed her name to a more local-sounding one, and took to using his cover for her, working as a mercenary in the meantime, occasionally running into him at the Angel's Share whenever she'd stop by for business or leisure. Or to observe him and the sort of man he was, to chat with him endlessly whenever his foolish little sun-bright smile would bloom upon seeing her. Each and every time, he'd ask her to come home with him. Each and every time, she would refuse, and tease perhaps he could try better the next time.

She accepted a year after he'd first made his offer.

Apart from being hired as a maid, Adelinde had also served as Crepus' personal aid and guard. She worked hard to hone and maintain her skills in every aspect she could, taking to her role with utmost dedication. It was perhaps this that wound up leading the rest of the staff to fall in behind her without question, even after having been regarded with suspicion by them due to her sudden disappearance. After all, it became all too clear to them that everything she would say and do, it was all for the good of their master.

She did develop feelings for Crepus, but never acted on them, especially after he'd gotten together with Diluc's mother and the lad had been born. She never faulted him for it nor did she dwell on them, much less seek to have them recognized or returned. Rather, she used them as incentive to better care for him and the young boy, even after his mother was out of the picture. This arrangement felt much more comfortable and right to her, anyways. She would never have changed a thing, even looking back now.

She taught Diluc how to use a firearm, as her brother had her, at the curious child's request. Seeing the lad so hard at work to try and improve to match her her did remind her of him at times, which never failed to make her heart ache.

She helped train Elzer in the use of firearms as well, in addition to helping train him to manage the Winery while Diluc grew up. With Elzer, she gave him the extra learnings she'd picked up with the Fatui to ensure he would be the best possible servant for the Ragnvindrs. He is the sole living person in Mond who knows the full extent of her origin, Crepus having been such, previously.

The one who reminded Adelinde of her brother the most though was Kaeya. She saw it in the gentle kindness he exuded, in the love he gave, the shyness he carried himself with yet always pushing himself to stand proud beside his more confident sibling. She saw it in his sharp wit and love of stories, the way his eyes shined in excitement at each and every one. She will never admit it, even if prodded, but it is for that reason that he was her favorite of the two. Still, she doted on both equally, adoring them both with every ounce of love her heart could muster. They were as much family to her, as the others in the staff and Winery came to be.

She and Crepus were both aware of Kaeya's heritage, the man having confided to her that Kaeya's eyes resembled those of Khaenri'ahns from legends he'd read. They both resolved to let the boy come clean at his own pace, as they felt he deserved a home, regardless of his origin, just as she had been given that chance. She made the greatest efforts to ensure he felt as welcomed as she did, that he adjusted well and personally tutored him whenever he needed the extra help. Every effort she could give to make sure he would feel safe in this new home.

Addie did eventually admit her feelings for Crepus some time before Diluc's eighteenth birthday. She had never intended to, but has done so only because he had directly asked her regarding them, and she refused to lie or keep secrets from him. She never had, since the day she'd begun to work for him, after all. As happy as he had been to know of them, and as relieved as she had been to know he was alright with it, they were never truly able to navigate what could come out of them, as Crepus died soon after.

In learning of Diluc's intent to journey to Snezhnaya, she cashed in a few favors with her old mercenary buddies and a few Fatui folk she knew without shadow of a doubt she could still trust to have them look after him the best they could. No doubt he would be hard to locate, with what limited information she could have and provide, but if it could make the difference between life or death for him, she would take every measure she could.

She admitted as much to him when he returned, through relieved tears and choked sobs upon seeing him.

She was not only one of the first to learn of his intents to moonlight as a vigilante, but his greatest supporter. She resolved to ensure not a single alibi of his could slip, to ensure each and every one of the staff would remain nothing but loyal to him, and resolved to personally take care of any 'loose ends' should it really come down to it.

Adelinde has personally stopped many a home invader over the years, from the start of her service to Crepus, to the present day, and never fails to sleep without both her own and her brother's guns prepped and ready at her bedside. She also frequently patrols the manor in the late hours, and there are no shortage of guns specially hidden around the manor for her to make a grab for in emergencies.

No, she will Never tell Diluc where they all are.

[luveline]

Okay, I would love to see an Aaron Hotchner x anemic bombshell!reader (lmao) who gets randomly faint and Aaron freaks <3

“This is oh so difficult,” you say under your breath, a sing-song tone to your voice. You often talk in juxtapositions, unhappy words in silk, cheerful worrying. “This is… stressful.” 

“You don't look stressed,” Spencer says. 

You elbow at him affectionately. “Do I ever? Sweetheart, there's nothing ever so stressful as to wear it on your face. Now come here, you have a pen smudge on your cheek.” 

Hotch could pinch the back of your shirt to stop you, but Spencer holds out a hand to brace you away from him like a disgruntled younger sibling while you laugh and reach for him. 

“Cut it out,” Gideon says. 

“Yes, boss.” 

Hotch turns away from you both to hide his smile. The case is long (as always), difficult (as always), and getting more and more serious as days pass. There hasn't been much time to pause and take stock, and so your playfulness comes at a great time —you need moments of fun like this to stop the weight of the inevitable dragging you down hard.

Your playfulness is unfailing. “So,” you say, quieter now to avoid Gideon’s attention while you lean into Hotch's personal bubble, “what will you make me for dinner?” 

“The same thing I've made you for the last four days.” 

“Ah. Nothing, then.” You tip your head to one side. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just feeling kinda weird. I really am hungry, handsome, and you aren't very gentlemanly in letting me starve.” You share a smile. You say everything so particularly, it only serves to endear you to him more and more. It's like… you're just sure of yourself, and in love with the world, and at least a little in love with him. Having you here with him makes the job easier. 

“You're hungry?” he asks, standing up. He expects no answer, nor for you to stand, but you clamber onto your feet quick as anything with wide eyes. 

“I was only–” You pause. 

Hotch can see the moment you lose sight of where you are, that far away gloss to your eyes, the rapid blinking that follows, and your hand thrown out to his too quickly. You grab at his arm roughly and he's crueller in his reaction, grabbing you under the arms with a startled, “Hey.” 

“Is she alright?” Spencer asks, his chair smacking the desk as he stands. 

Your lips pull down into a frown, eyes squeezed closed. He's startled —Hotch didn't even know you could frown outside of a joke. You're feeling that heavy, sudden wrongness that comes with being faint, he'd guess. 

He rides it out with you, holding you tight. After a few moments your eyes peel open, a spark of upset about you that quickly lends to sheepishness. “Oh, sorry,” you say softly. 

“Don't be.” 

You gather your bearings. Hotch moves his hands to a more amicable place on your arms, more to comfort than to hold, while Spencer stands and offers you his bottle of water. 

“She good?” Gideon asks Hotch. 

That perks you up. “I'm always good, sir,” you say, sending a smile at your boss from over your shoulder. “Just flirting with Agent Hotchner.” 

“Did you take your medication?” Hotch asks, cutting the fat of the conversation clean off. 

“Yeah, I never miss it.” 

He is admittedly more concerned about you than one coworker would be for another after a dizzy spell, but you aren't just a coworker. Hotch cups your cheek quickly in his hand to gauge your temperature and deduces from there that it isn't a sickness. 

“You weren't exaggerating about being starved,” he decides. Your iron pills do so much, and you have to do the rest. “Reid, what foods help with anaemia?” 

“Anything rich in iron. Red meat, pork, poultry, dark greens, especially spinach. All kinds of beans,” Spencer reels off. 

“Any of that sounds good to you?” Hotch asks, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. 

You meet his lowbrow with softer eyes, nodding your appreciation. Your lips part to answer him, but you're cut off. “Be quick about it,” Gideon says, glasses slipping down his nose as he turns back to his case file, “we have a lot to do.” 

Hotch buys you a burrito for the iron and a smoothie because you deserve it. You kiss his cheek, and apparently he deserves that for being ‘such a sweetheart’. He doesn't bother pretending he doesn't want it, or the second or third kiss that comes after.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

SWEET ADDICTION

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Synopsis: Spencer always felt afraid you'd be too sweet for him. Turns out, you were just the right spice he needed. Word Count: 1800+ WARNING: Fluff with a pinch of spice. A/N: an alternate narrative draft of my other published draft, Regrets Sting... enjoy✨

Spencer found you saccharine.

As a colleague, a friend, and... an enchanting woman.

He spent most of his days hypervigilant, careful not to fall for your tempting, bright smiles and witty jokes.

He watched you smile warmly to each and every family of the victims you'd ever encounter. Spencer would never stop bragging about his high intelligence, but somehow, he couldn't figure you out. You were a beguiling force to behold, an enigma of kindness and walking epitome of apricity.

Spencer loves everything about you. He loves you. He was obsessed with you. Craved your presence. Greedy for your attention.

He was afraid that whatever feelings brewed in his chest were going to ravage you. Afraid that he'd ruin a beautiful art due to his impulsivity.

So he chose friendship. He had to, or else...

He became your motivator. Your stimulus. Your best friend.

He was there for you. He was there when a case became too heavy. He lent you his day off. He became your personal therapist, listening to all your vents in the hopes that it would stop the nightmares just for one night. He kept you company, reading a book to you until you drifted off to sleep but left as soon as he tucked you in.

And without you, or him, knowing, he fell for your addicting sweetness all over again. Spencer Reid was in love with you.

He felt guilty. Falling for you right after being in love with someone else because he wanted to avoid falling for you. Even Spencer couldn't make sense of himself. It was a mind-boggling conflict.

And yet, Spencer held himself back for as long as he could. He made himself believe that all he wanted was your friendship. Shoving his feelings into a box as if it were a dirty sin, he tried to keep a secret.

The deeper he fell for you, the more obvious it became to the team.

JJ figured it out first when Spencer put in too much effort to make you smile after a case that hit too close to home. You have been bland with everyone but not with Spencer. He managed to get you to laugh just by saying a couple of nerdy jokes. She knew, then, that you'd be the perfect match.

Emily and Derek noticed Spencer's smittenness at the same time. You were all on a case, and the unsub's victims disturbingly fit you. Spencer was protective of you and knew exactly how it'd make you feel. So he always kept you in his line of sight and insisted on working with you before Hotch had the chance to object. Of course, along with that was Penelope squealing about her suspicions that Spencer had a huge crush on you.

Rossi had a hunch. He saw Spencer's eyes light up every time you walked into any room, staring at you for as long as he could. One time, he saw Spencer organize your case file in the way you preferred: written detailed descriptions instead of photos. And he suspected that Spencer had done so since your first day with the team.

Hotch? He always knew but kept his mouth shut. Spencer went to him for any type of indirect romantic advice. Spencer was experiencing childish love, so who was Hotch to ruin it for the boy genius?

And so it goes...

JJ would ritually give Spencer new, interesting facts about you. Emily would become suggestive whenever you made Spencer his daily cup of sugar with drops of coffee. Derek would flirt with you whenever he caught Spencer staring at you, then report to Penelope about the progress in their project: get Spencer to confess. Rossi, at times, pulled Spencer back from his trance whenever he started to malfunction because of something you did that made his stomach flip. And Hotch was Spencer's go-to companion. Vaguely describing his feelings for you in hopes that the unit chief had some sort of advise in return.

So he could only imagine the heartbreak when you arrived one morning with an unfamiliar scent of shampoo and a giddy smile as you walked in with the precinct's detective.

He immediately expressed his disapproval. Of course, you were confused about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that was Spencer couldn't tell you why.

Or so he thought.

"I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of this," You walked into an interrogation room.

"Just because Det. Lohan is an old friend of yours does not mean he can be trusted. You haven't seen the guy in years. I think it's safe to say that sleeping with him was not a smart choice." Spencer wanted to smack himself for his poor choice of words, but he'd rather you lecture him than spend more time with the detective that still lingered on your hair.

You laughed, not taking his words personally. "Spence, I'm a woman with two guns dangling on each side of her hips. I can take care of myself." You took his worry into account and yet made your decision clear.

Out of nowhere, Spencer pushed you by your hips against the door. You gasped out of shock, a dangerous sound that rang in his ears.

"Still think you'd be safe?" Spencer could barely look at you. He didn't know what he would do if he did.

"You're making him sound more dangerous than he is. This is clearly not about keeping me safe. What's going on? You know you can always talk to me." Your voice was like honey. It was sweet and kind. You had no doubt, no suspicion. You trusted him too much. You were too sweet on him.

Spencer released a sharp sigh. He really had no other choice, did he? "I'm in love with you," He muttered under his breath but loud enough to tickle your ear.

Your expression changed. You took time to read whatever his eyes could say, but you came up with nothing, "Spence... you already rejected me. You said we're better off friends. You said you weren't attracted to me." You kept your tone unfairly soft, filling him with guilt.

"I lied, okay?!" Spencer was losing his cool. How much you affected his mood was beyond torture.

"Well, that's not fair... I was in love with you. Told you how I felt." Your face was sullen. "And what? I'm supposed to just take you in my arms because now you want me?" You gently pushed him, looking down on your feet. "I'd like to be alone, please." You were firm with your words, hurt lingering under your breath.

"Was?" Spencer queried.

You looked back up, "What?"

He stepped closer, "You said, 'I was in love with you.' You're not anymore?" Spencer's eyes bore into your very soul. It felt like he was interrogating you with a different charge of crime than a few seconds ago.

"That's not the point," You barely managed to sound in control. His entire demeanor changed, focusing on one phrase.

"You don't love me anymore?" Spencer moved closer, leaving nothing but his breath between the two of you. He quickly glanced at your lips, then stared at you once more, making sure you saw what he just did.

You subtly gulped, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat. "What are you—"

"Say you still love me, and I'll kiss you," It was as if every restraint Spencer had finally snapped the longer he was alone with you. He has been restricting himself from every inch of you, after all, despite you being unaware of it.

You shook your head, lifting your chin up, "I'm really not in the mood to play games with you, Spence. Why can't you just leave the entire thing alone?" You hoped he couldn't hear how loud your heart was beating right in your ear.

Spencer's eyes soften. He drooled at the sight of your lips, leaning his forehead on yours. Spencer closed his eyes in desperation, "Please say you love me so I can kiss you..." He begged in a small whisper.

A lot of possibilities and doubts flooded your senses, but only one thing rang in your head.

"I—" You didn't get the chance to say it. Spencer's lips were already attached to yours.

Your mind went blank, and your knees turned weak. If he hadn't wrapped an arm around your waist, you would've long fallen on the floor and ruined the euphoric moment you were in.

His kiss wasn't anything like you'd imagine. Nowhere near the gentleness you've known him to be. His kisses were desperate and eager.

Spencer pressed your back against the two-way mirror, harsher than when he'd pushed you against the door. The loud thud echoed in the entire room. His kisses became hotter and hungrier by the second.

And just as his lips were about to trail down to your jaw...

"Uhm—"

You froze at the sound of the speaker sending feedback, lightly tapping Spencer to abruptly stop.

"Sorry... But, uh, the interrogation room's actually not empty. At least not on our side." JJ spoke from the speaker.

You bit your lower lip as you tightly closed your eyes, "I know I'm going to regret this, but who's with you?" Your voice cracked from utter embarrassment.

The speaker spilled a chuckle all over the room, "You got room for another, sweetheart?" Derek could barely hold his laugh as he spoke.

"Count me in, too," Emily chimed in, creating another horrible feedback.

Spencer squinted at the mirror as if he'd be able to see them the more he stared at his reflection. You were glad your back was against, or else they would've seen how red your face became.

"Uh... Can you leave? Please?" You looked up at the ceiling. You couldn't even look at Spencer's face from the embarrassment you were feeling.

"Just don't make a mess. We still need to use the room for the unsub later." Derek teased.

"No promises," Spencer grinned at you, making your face heat up more than it already was.

Emily's amused laughter echoed, "Getting a little too pride of yourself there, Reid." Her voice went one-eighth octave lower. "I won't hesitate to beat you up if you do some dumb shit."

You waited for at least a minute to make sure that they did leave before you collapsed on the floor with your hands covering your face.

Spencer squatted in front of you and took your hands, intertwining your fingers. "Regret falling in love with me yet?" A playful smirk danced over his lips.

"Right now? I do. I really, really do." But you were too sweet for him. So you rolled your eyes, groaning in indecisiveness, "I really don't."

"Yeah," Spencer couldn't help but smile, "You really don't." He grabbed your face by the cheek and stole another kiss.

Spencer couldn't help it. You were his sweet addiction. And he'd keep it that way as long as you let him.

reid masterlist | masterlist

[russellsppttemplates]

Parenting Practice (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time, hasn't it? A lot has been going on, and my mental health has taken the biggest toll, so the blog hasn't received much attention as I'm trying to keep the train going! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Are you all packed, my love?", Lando asked you as he zipped his suitcase effortlessly.

"Yes - are you sure it's fine if I take my pillow?", you wondered, holding the pregnancy pillow close to you, folding it into the carrier bag.

"It's regular carry-on, and as much as I hate that I have to share my cuddles with it, I know you sleep better with it so you definitely need to take it", Lando winked.

Blushing at your husband's antics, you made sure it was packed before looking around in case you missed something you needed to pack, "seems like I'm all good too - when do we need to leave?".

"In thirty minutes - how about I make us a snack to eat, then you can go pee before we go and then we head to the airport?", Lando suggested.

"Why did you need to specify that I have to take a pee break?", you poked you tongue out at him, pinching his butt as he walked past you.

"You were the one that told me I should always inform you of when you couldn't pee for a long time! The jet will touchdown to pick us both up and go straight up again - I don't think we will have time to use the base's bathroom, and you say you don't like the jet's bathroom, so I was just warning you, woman!", he bit back playfully.

Recalling the last time where you tried to use the bathroom and had to call Pietra to hold you in case you couldn't get out on your own, afraid that the bump would make moving around the tiny space impossible, you swore you'd always plan your pee breaks carefully from now on, "I'm craving something salty", you beamed as Lando walked down the stairs.

"A salty snack for mama and baby girl coming right up!", he yelled back and you could just imagine his head shaking from side to side with a charming smile on his face.

Your mother in-law was the first to greet you as soon as you stepped inside the aircraft, Lando holding your hand to make you didn't fall and helping with your shoes, "Y/N! Oh, you look so gorgeous!", she cooed.

"It's the compression socks, isn't it?", you giggled, lifting up your long skirt to show her, "doctor said it would be better for the swelling - Goodness knows I need all the help I can with that", you mumbled the last bit.

"Don't be silly, you look beautiful!", Pietra complimented.

"She does, doesn't she?", Lando complimented, kissing your cheek before letting you go and feeling slightly jealous that everyone was now looking at you when you had been a sight for his eyes only for the past few days.

.

"Is all of that jealousy, brother?", Cisca asked her brother, touching her toes on his thigh after she sat down on her beach chair. The sun had finally showed up and there was a light breeze going on, making it the perfect beach day and it was only lunchtime as they sat on the beach bar after making the food orders.

"Jealousy? Of what?", Lando quirked his eyebrow over his sunglasses, drifting his attention from you and looking back to his youngest sister.

"The girls haven't left Y/N since the plane, only to sleep and Sav was just saying she swears she heard Athena call your wife before she fell asleep", she snickered, "You've lost favourite uncle status, we all have I think".

"Like we stood a chance to begin with", Lando scoffed, "she was made to be a mother, and before that she had all the practice with being an auntie. And the girls genuinely think they can play with baby girl like they play with their dolls once she's here with us".

"Mila is gentle most days, Athena is... still a bit hard on her movements I think - oh, just on cue!", she yelped.

"Oh, darling, that was a bit strong, wasn't it?", you scolded softly, taking her hand away from your ear after she pushed on your hoop.

"Come here, you trouble maker!", Adam called, grabbing the little girl away from your lap as you rearranged your jewellery.

"She surely has a strong grip!", you chuckled before winking at Lando, mouthing a silent "I love you, Lan" across the table.

Cisca groaned playfully, "is all of that jealousy, little sister?", Lando teased her before blowing you a kiss and mouthing it back.

.

You were enjoying the pool the villa had, soaking up the sun as you laid on Lando's chest, tracing random shapes on his chest while his hand travelled around your waist and bump, often tapping it when your little girl kicked or moved.

It was fairly quiet until the girls woke up from their naps, immediately coming down to join you and invite everyone to swim with them.

Deciding to engage in their delight, you got up and walked to the edge of the pool, carefully sitting on the warm stone and letting your legs dip in the water to cool your body while Lando dove in and played with the girls, "careful, Mila, you can't unzip your vest!", he called.

Pulling her closer to you, you managed to zip it back up and help her swim back to her uncle, "is the bump getting in the way?", Sav asked you, mimicking your early movements and sitting next to you.

"When I'm sitting down, yes", you chuckled, "I don't have the same range of movements and my mind still has to catch up with that".

"It's a sign that she's growing well though", your sister in-law added, propping herself up on her arms so she could ease the rest of ther body into the water, getting immediate attention from her children as they called her to them, "soon enough you'll have someone calling you every waking second!".

"She already does, though! Look at him making a bee line to her now that she's free!", Oliver joked as Lando swam to you.

"I won't even bother answering that", Lando pointed to his brother before reaching you, ignoring everyone else as he gently wrapped his arms around your calves and rested his chin on your knees, "hi, beautiful", he smiled.

"Hey, handsome", you smiled, brushing a fallen curl away from his forehead, "did you enjoy your splashes?", you asked giggling.

"It was fun, yes. Athena poked my eye a couple of times though", he argued, "can you imagine our little princess playing with them this time next year?", he wondered.

"Three little girls", you mused, nodding at the idea, "you better get ready to be a princess too!".

"I have what it takes to be a girl dad, some people might even say I'm very girl dad coded", he tsked you, earning laughs from you.

"You definitely are, yes", you rubbed your bump, "you haven't been her long and she's already kicking like crazy - definitely a daddy's girl".

"Hey, sweet girl", Lando spoke, lightly wetting the skin as his hands touched your bump, "are you having a good time in there? Mummy always says she's too hot so we hope you're doing good away from this heat. And this helps, no?", he wondered as the baby kicked against the droplets, "yeah, it's good and cooling", he cooed.

.

"I'm craving something salty", you said as you grabbed the menu, flicking the pages to see what tickled your fancy.

You had decided to go to the beach bar and have lunch there, not wanting to have to pack everything to go back home only to come back for the afternoon. Everyone was gathered around the table as the waiter took the orders.

"Feeling good? Well rested?", you asked Lando once you caught him looking at you.

"Yes", he admitted, "I thought it would be harder to switch off, but it's been very good", he squeezed your thigh, kissing the side of your head and pulling you to his chest, "how are my girls today? You look ethereal in this dress, darling".

The white dress was flowy at times and tight in all the right spots, showcasing your babybump perfectly, "we've been good, no more harsh kicking on my bladder which I appreciate, isn't that right, Tilly?", you rubbed just above your bellybutton, "but we're both quite hungry".

"The waiter said yours should be quick to make", he offered since the waiter mentioned that the Caesar salad was a popular plate and they always had it running.

Once everyone was served, you began eating, delighted and exclaiming how good e everything was.

"Have a bite of this, baby, trust me!", Lando offered as he gathered a bit of everything on his fork to feed you.

"It's sweet, I'm not sure I'll like it", you scrunched up your face.

"Try a little bit", he encouraged as he made a shell shape with his hand to catch anything that fell or dropped.

The food was definitely the opposite of what you had, but it was delicious. That you couldn't deny.

"It's good, isn't it? I told you!", Lando smiled, "do you want some more?", he offered while already getting everything on the fork again.

"Baby girl seems happy too", you giggled, feeling her move.

"She has good taste in food, what can I say?!", Lando giggled back.

.

The vacation was well underway by the time you decided which days you wanted to spend on the boat, Oliver and Savannah staying inside with the girls along with Adam and Cisca who decided they would make lunch for everyone.

"Do you know what I have just realised?", you spoke to Flo as you both watched Lando and Cisca's boyfriend jump into the water, "your brother has a massive head - like, it's really big, specially when you compare to Max's", you pointed to your husband's best friend who had joined you for the last few days.

That morning, you cried about the fact that your bikini dug on your hips only for Lando to tell you that you hadn't tired the sides properly and that you had more than enough room to accommodate your growing body, so right now this was a way better way to deal with the rush of hormones you were having.

"I think we all do, to be fair - Cisca has the smalled one I guess", Flo squinted as she looked at her sister who walked closer to you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?", Cisca wondered.

"I've just realised how big your brother's head is and how I'm probably going to be split apart when this little girl - little body but surely a big head - joins us", you rubbed your bump as tears formed in your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, my friends have had babies with big heads and they're fine", Pietra offered, "they were just fine", she said before waving at Max so him and Lando could come to the rescue.

"I don't know why I'm crying, which makes this even worse - Goodness", you wiped your eyes and chuckled, "I can feel her head, it's about here from what I remember from the scans - and it's big, like, really big! How is that going to work?", you blurted.

"What's the matter? Is everything alright? Y/N, are you good? Is it Tilly?", Lando asked worriedly as he saw you break into a fit of giggles and seeing the girls fight their laughter a bit before joining.

"The matter is that you have a big head and Tilly's will also be big", you explained, "I'm not the tiniest person ever, so there's definitely room but can you imagine? I have to ask your mother how big your head was when you were born because I feel like I need to do prep work for it", you mused, "it's all natural until you decide to have a kid with the guy who has a big head".

"Oh, Y/N has gone dark", Max muttered, earning himself a swat on his forehead from Pietra, "what? Did I lie?", he hissed, containing his laughter.

"I'm not sure what you'd like me to do here, my love", Lando admitted, sitting next to you and attempting to squeeze your thigh lovingly, knowing the affectionate gesture could go both ways.

"Our baby is making me feel like I have the emotional and cognitive skills of a toddler", you mumbled as you cuddled your husband, supporting your bump with a pillow Flo got for you as you both layed down.

"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind having to reason with you - we'll consider this practice for when we have our little one, okay beautiful?", Lando kissed your forehead.

[hamsterclaw]

Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.

Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader

Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns

The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.

Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.

Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.

He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.

His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.

The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.

He’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.

Unlike Yoongi.

Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.

Only madness lies that way.

Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.

Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.

Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.

The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.

The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.

He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.

The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.

Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.

Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.

Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.

It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.

He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.

Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.

He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.

Jesus, is he getting old?

Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.

He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.

He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.

***

Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.

He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.

Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.

There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.

‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’

Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.

‘What’s the case?’ he asks.

Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.

Yoongi waits.

He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.

The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.

It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.

Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.

Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.

Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.

He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.

‘The reaper of Seoul?’

Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.

The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.

Last year.

‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.

Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’

You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.

‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’

***

The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.

The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.

Oh dear.

Better luck this time?

Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.

Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.

You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.

He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’

It’s a statement you answer to like a question.

‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘

‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.

You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.

‘Her family wanted answers.’

Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.

She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.

She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.

You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’

‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.

The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.

‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’

You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’

Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’

‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.

Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’

Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.

You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.

Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.

His email pings.

‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.

You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.

‘Our notebooks,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at the stack.

Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.

The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.

This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.

You blink at him.

‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’

In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.

***

The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.

There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.

You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.

The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.

She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.

The bath of blood she’s lying in.

Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.

You wait until forensics turns her body over.

The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.

Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’

***

You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.

There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.

You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.

Two minutes from her own front door.

Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.

The audacity of it.

He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’

You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.

Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.

‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.

‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.

He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.

‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.

‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.

‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’

There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.

They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.

You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’

Yoongi waits.

‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’

You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.

You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’

‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.

‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.

‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’

You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’

‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.

‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.

Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.

‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’

‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.

‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’

Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.

***

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.

Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.

‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.

‘Yeah,’ he answers.

‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’

Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.

Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’

‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.

Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.

‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’

Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’

He fills Namjoon in.

‘I’ll follow it up.’

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’

Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.

He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’

He ends the call, unlocks the car.

‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.

‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.

The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.

He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.

***

Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.

‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’

There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.

‘You mumble in your sleep.’

Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’

‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.

Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.

You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.

In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.

‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.

Yoongi passes you a cup.

‘Problem?’ he asks.

‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’

‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.

Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’

Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’

He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’

***

The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.

It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.

Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.

You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.

You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.

You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.

It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.

Kiho extends a hand.

‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.

Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.

You’re looking at Yoongi.

‘We can tell him now.’

***

‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.

Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.

Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.

Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.

‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’

‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’

Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.

The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.

You turn to Yoongi.

‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’

‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.

He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.

What’s he going to do to you?

‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.

Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t falter.

‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.

***

The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.

Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.

He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.

He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.

He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.

You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.

Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.

His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.

It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.

‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi takes a moment.

‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.

‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.

‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.

‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’

You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’

‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.

You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’

‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’

Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.

‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’

***

The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.

The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.

Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.

Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.

‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.

‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’

Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.

Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.

His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.

He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.

***

The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.

Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.

Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.

Get the monster locked up where he belongs.

You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.

There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.

He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.

There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.

You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.

Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.

He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.

He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.

Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.

‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’

He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.

You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.

Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.

You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.

It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.

He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’

Yoongi chews on that a moment.

‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’

Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.

‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’

His voice trails off.

He risks a glance at you.

You’re still not looking at him.

‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’

Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.

‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’

It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.

***

When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.

He hands Yoongi another case file.

‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.

‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’

Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’

He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’

As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.

‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’

Yoongi heads for your joint office.

There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

The cleaner apologises and bows politely.

Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.

‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.

He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.

Outside, it’s raining again.

***

Yoongi wakes with a jolt.

You’re perched on the edge of his desk.

‘You should go home, get some sleep.’

‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.

‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’

At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’

‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.

‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.

You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.

‘I should go —‘

‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’

‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘

‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.

You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.

Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’

‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’

‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.

‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’

You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.

‘Yeah?’

You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘

This time, Yoongi interrupts.

‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’

Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.

Your knee brushes his under the table.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.

You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.

He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.

You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.

He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.

Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.

His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.

Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.

Close up, you’re soft.

Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.

You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.

It’s been a hell of a fucking day.

You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.

A human connection in a day filled with monsters.

Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.

He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.

He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.

Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.

You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.

‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’

You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.

You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.

‘Just let me —‘

You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.

When did he last —

His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.

He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.

The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.

Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.

‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’

***

In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.

Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.

His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.

He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.

You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.

At least he doesn’t.

You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.

Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.

Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.

Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.

‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.

‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.

He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.

Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.

He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.

He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.

‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’

You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’

Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.

Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.

Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.

***

There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.

The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.

Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.

You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’

Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.

He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.

There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Namjoon.

‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’

‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.

Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.

There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.

Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.

The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.

He’s seen her face before, and recently.

Coming out of your office.

‘Fuck,’ he swears.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.

Your phone rings, and rings.

Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.

By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.

His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.

‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.

He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.

***

Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.

She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.

She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.

Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.

The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.

And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.

He’d been right. Your place was fancy.

You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.

He realises you’re looking at him.

‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.

He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.

If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.

It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.

‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.

You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.

‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.

‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’

You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.

He realises that he’s smiling.

Fuck, it’s been a while.

[moralesluvr]

Hii. So I had this idea where it’s (e-1610) miles saving Reader from something and when he finally looks at her he immediately becomes attracted towards her (like love a first sight thing) and gets all shy and cute

love at first sight ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: miles morales x fem!black!reader, college au, cafe au. ♡ summary: after getting hit on after walking home from work, your friendly neighborhood spiderman is here to save you-- and he‘s stunned when he sees you. ♡ warnings: none jus fluff! ♡ a/n: this is so extremely self indulgent because i wear glasses and i was just visualizing this the whole time LOLLL ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

YOUR SAGE-TINTED FINGERNAILS PINCH around the soft material of your apron, a broken sigh tumbling off of your reddened lips as you placed it on the coat rack in the back of your workplace. Another huff leaves you, this time of relief, eyes darting to the clock that resides on the wall. It reads, it digital numerals, '10:22.'

You should've closed twenty minutes ago, but of course, some of your avid regulars insisted that they needed a coffee or slide of banana bread right as you had grabbed the broom from the back, ready to shut the cafe down. But you couldn't complain because you were at least happy that you had the next couple of days off, so you let your worries roll off of your t-shirt clad shoulders, grabbing your purse and keys from your work cubbie and switching off the lights.

Keys jingling as you step outside, you stick a golden one into the hole that's below the door's handle, locking it and beginning your walk down the street.

A shiver courses through your veins, your body not quite adjusted to the sweet, yet wintry cold that summoned goosebumps on your bare forearms. You hugged yourself and tucked the sides of your coat in, throwing your Coach bag over your shoulders as the pretty lights of Brooklyn advocated for your lack of vision.

The cafe that you worked at was the only place you could earn money and also enjoy. Your boss was one the upperclassmen that you knew from your university, which really helped because she always gave you days off and flexible work hours. All your co-workers were just close friends or classmates-- plus, you loved to bake, so it really was a genuine place of interest.

You're humming one of your favorite songs down the block when you reach a strip of shops. There's a pub nearby and you always hold your breath when you pass it-- because it's not so much a bar, but more of a place where teenagers hang out and smoke or drink ill-tasting beer. Usually you're safe passing through, but that wasn't necessarily the case tonight.

A boy that you recognize from your university stumbles out of the place, eyes reddened and droopy as he stopped you in your tracks. He smirked at you, "Why're you walkin' all by yourself? Need some company?"

Pushing a curl back behind your ear, he beams a smile at you, one that makes your stomach feel uneasy as you slowly moved his hand back down to his side.

"No, Aaron, I don't. I...have a boyfriend." You lied through your teeth. You definitely didn't, but you needed a valid excuse as to why you didn't want this creep taking you home.

"I think you do need some company, though, pretty thing." He insists, pushing himself closer to you, a laugh sounding from his throat. "I don't see your boyfriend. What kind of man would leave his girl alone at night, walking down the streets of New York?" His hands find home on your waist and you let out a squeal, "Stop!"

Although it's no use. He continues, trying to learn into your lips as you fight his tight embrace. But he's stronger, and you genuinely think that you're a goner until a tall figure in a-

Spider-Man?

He comes literally out of nowhere, standing in front of Aaron as he grabbed both of his arms, removing his grip on you. The masked vigilante twists his hands behind his back and he screams, biting his lip, "This your pathetic boyfriend, huh? Some idiot playing around in a mask?"

Spider-Man says nothing to that, except he just shoots a web at Aaron's hands, pinning them behind his back. He then flips him around and webs his mouth, moving closer to him. He whispers against his skin, "Shut up."

Aaron's eventually pinned to the brickwork of the pub's walls, when Spider-Man finally turns to look at you. You're smiling, even though anxiety is still pumping through your blood, "Thank you, Spider...Spider-man?"

He just stares at you.

You're so pretty, curls tucked back in a ponytail with some loose ones hanging against your dark glasses frames. You're clad in a leather jacket and a pair of ankle-high boots, a pretty skirt resting on your thighs. The moonlight glows against your brown skin, and he finds his mouth dry because it's wide open.

You cock an eyebrow at him, "Spider-Man? Are you okay?"

And although he longs to say something, to get the words out, he can't help but give you one last glance as he finds himself webbing to a wall, swinging away without saying a word.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut // @urmotherswhor3 // @cumbermovels // @asmobeuses

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𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae // @luci1fer

[deepdisireslonging]

No Cum November Part 11: One Last Ride

It’s finally the end of the challenge. The Winchesters make up for all of November’s edges and stolen orgasms.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings/Promises: oral (male receiving), double penetration/split roast, dirty talk with a side of praise!kink, overstimulation

Word Count: 875

Note: Happy end of the series! For those of you who participated, I hope you had fun. For everyone just reading along, I hope you enjoyed every word. Here is the last chapter. Feel free to reblog it to share with your mutuals, and comment and/or gif me your reactions. Happy reading!

Part 10: Good Vibrations

With the end of the case finally come and gone, Dean drove the Impala at break-neck speeds towards the bunker. Or at least that’s what you assumed. There was an awful amount of back roads being taken. Not that you could see the road from your position on the floor of the back seat. And you couldn’t move your head much with Sam’s cock down your throat.

He kept a strong, steady grip around your head. So you could keep a strong, steady suck around his. You hollowed and twirled your tongue as best you could. Sam was desperate, still holding out with the end of the challenge, but riding the edge with you as Dean raced. The agreement was you all could cum once you reached the bunker. With each speed bump and pothole, Sam’s length suddenly filled you. Your messy gagging noises made both of them groan.

“How’s she taking you, Sammy?” Dean gripped the steering wheel tight with both hands to keep from palming himself. If he started to, he’d have to pull over. And then you’d never make it to the bunker.

Sam panted for enough breath to answer. “Perfect. Like she always is. Taking me so deep, aren’t you, baby?” His voice cracked while the car jostled over another rough stretch of road. He dug his fingers int your hair, pulling you back and forth. “Bet she’s dripping. Bet she hasn’t stopped dripping all month. How bad do you need us, baby? Hmm?”

All you could do was whine.

The Impala revved harder. The bunker must’ve been in sight.

The wheels squealed over the smooth concrete of the garage. It was barely in park before Sam had freed his cock from your mouth so he could lay down across the backseat. Dean yanked open the door, half-dragging you out so he could flip up your skirt, shoving your head back towards his brother’s length. They filled you at the same time. You didn’t care. You were all desperate for each other, desperate to cum. Through their grunts and sighs, the guys kept your skin buzzing with praise.

“You’ve done such a good job, sweetheart. Taking us like you do.”

“Oh, Baby- wanted to make you cum all month. Can’t wait to watch you cum. Watch those eyes glass over. Catch you when your limbs go weak.”

“Won’t be five minutes. Can’t wait to fill you up. Can’t wait to watch me drip out of you…”

“So close- come on, keep moving. Take my cock, all of it. Close-“

“Me too. Need you- Cum for us, sweetheart.”

“Come on Baby, cum for-“ Sam broke off with a high moan as his release filled your mouth.

Spaced out as you were, you weren’t able to swallow much. It added to the mess already dripping from your mouth onto his stomach. Dean continued to thrust tortuously. You tried to relax. To let go. But your arousal only seemed to fly higher and higher, never risking coming down.

Had you forgotten how to cum?

Then Dean reached around for your clit. And Sam dug his hands under your shirt to knead your breasts. The circling around your clit, and the pinching of your nipples added just enough. Stars sparked behind your eyes. Your vision brightened, darkening around the edges. Your release kept coming. And coming. Even though Dean’s thrusts stilled to almost nothing. Even though Sam had frozen with rapturous attention. Your walls clamped down and flexed, wringing out as much pleasure as you could handle. It didn’t register when Dean’s release spilled into you. Or when the boys shifted, Sam scooting back deeper into the car so Dean could fit inside. All you knew was that you were cumming. And soaring. And suddenly very tired.

Dean pulled you into his lap. Gingerly, he settled your thighs on either side of his hips. His gentle kisses all around your face brought to back to the present. You melted onto his shoulder. He smiled as you sighed into the crook of his neck.

“How you feelin’?” He ran his nose over your forehead.

“Wonderful,” you breathed.

From the side, Sam hummed in agreement. “Worth the wait?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good.” Sam’s hand began to smooth up and down your thigh. “Because we’re not done with you.”

“What?”

You jolted as Sam’s hand dipped between your thighs, toying with your slick and clit. Dean’s hands ran up your sides before moving over to your breasts. In the flipside of what they did to your earlier, Sam circled and flicked over your clit while Dean massaged your breasts, rolling their peaks between his fingers. You arched and squirmed in his lap. It wasn’t long before you were crying out. You dug your hands into both of their hair, searching for a way to ground yourself.

Sam nuzzled his nose around your sweet-spot behind your ear. “I wonder how many orgasms we can give you. Not just tonight, but for the whole month. What could we call that, Dean?”

“Double-Penetration-December? Thirty-one un-holy nights? Um-“

“How about you two make love to me as often as you like and forget the fancy name?”

“Okay.” “We can do that, yeah.”

You smiled against his lips. “Then take me to bed, boys.”

[sailorshadzter]

Fic prompt: Jon teaches Sansa archery after feeling jealous when he saw Theon and Sansa practicing together

hi anon! ty!!

send me prompts

On the battlements he stands, watching over the courtyard that is a flurry of activity, as it always seems to be these days.  There is never a dull moment there in Winterfell as they make what surely will be their final preparations for the battle that was to come. The threat of death looms overhead and there isn’t a single person among them that does not fear what could be in the coming days.

His attention, however, does not last long on the dutiful men as they work to ensure preparations are complete. Instead, his gaze sweeps across the way, to the most northern corner of the courtyard, to where he catches sight of the red hair he would know anywhere. He is surprised to see her there, a bow in hand, her ivory features pinched with a frown. Before he can blink, there appears another and at once there is a beast called jealousy roaring in his chest. 

He watches as Theon steps around her, carefully positioning her hands as they should be, helping her to draw back the bow string and holding the arrow straight. He watches as she bites her lip in concentration, as she furrows her brow, as Theon must say something encouraging for she’s smiling ever so slightly- then she’s releasing the arrow and it misses the mark by a mile. She looks discouraged but Theon is touching her shoulder and she’s smiling once more, turning to watch him go to retrieve another. They’re back at it then, his hands over hers, so close he surely must feel the warmth of her skin between the layers of the wool they both wear- again, the beast in his chest roars. 

��My lord?”

He turns at the sound of the voice, drawing him out of his head and back into reality- if just for now. 

[ x x x ]

He catches her as she’s descending the stairs and her smile is dazzling, even so early in the morning. “Off to practice archery, are you?” He questions and her cheeks stain crimson, her footsteps slowing to a stop. 

“You saw?” She asks softly, staring at the floor like a child caught misbehaving. 

Jon cannot help but to laugh at her expense, which draws her eyes back up to his face. “Aye, I saw,” he says, reaching out to gently tug on a lock of her red hair. “I thought I might help you today,” he continues, his hand falling away from her, but his fingers long to feel her hair, her skin, her, once more. Her blue eyes widen with surprise but she’s grinning, nodding, a new pep to her demeanor that wasn’t there even just a moment ago. “You needn’t learn this you know,” he says as they walk out the double doors and into the crisp, morning air. 

“I know,” she says softly, the look on her face telling him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t doing this for herself, she was doing it for her people, for her home. Just in case… Just in case she needed to protect someone, she might just be able to do so. Jon wonders if there’s any other lady or lord in the world that would do such a thing. 

“Like this,” he’s saying now, helping her to hold the bow as she needs to, carefully placing the arrow to the string. “Square your feet now.” She adjusts her pose and suddenly, it feels far more natural than it had the day before. Jon’s hands are warm over her own as he adjusts her ever so slightly, pulling back the string just an inch more. “Perfect,” his breath is warm against the back of her neck, so close they are now. “Let go…!” She does and the arrow flies, not striking the center, but striking the board all the same. “There you go!” He shouts happily and she’s laughing, dancing around him as he reaches for another arrow. “Again,” he says and she falls back into position, smiling to herself when he presses himself against her once more. 

The next arrow strikes even closer and she’s the one to let out a cheer, red hair swinging as she turns to face him. “You are quite the teacher,” she compliments as they take up their pose yet again. 

Jon laughs, soft and slow against the shell of her ear. “You are a natural,” he insists as she narrows her eyes, focusing on her target. She’s caught up in her own mind now, not listening to him at all, so he steps away, watching as she is the one who holds the bow, holds the arrow. And then she is the one to let it fly, shooting across the way to strike the dead center of the target. 

She lets out a cheer and turns back to him, throwing her arms around him, laughing, sinking into the warmth of his arms. “You are a good teacher,” she reminds when he holds her at arm's length, gray eyes meeting blue. He opens his mouth, thinking he might argue, but the beast in his chest is purring and he knows it isn’t worth it. Seeing her smile was more than enough, in truth. 

These moments were enough.

[messrmoonyy]

hey y’all, anon bestie back at it again😍

but rlly, like imagine.. tess getting a lil submissive but still being the one in control and getting on her knees in front of you to do sum unholy things LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL

Submission

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/N- hi bestie!!! I thank you for your service , you’re my favourite 🫡 I was just gonna write a little Drabble for this but as always. I got carried away! It’s actually surprisingly soft 🤧 I think sub Tess is RARE like I think that side of her only makes an appearance once in a blue moon when she’s just unbelievably drained and needs to not be the one in control and scary all the fine. And needs a lil comforting herself. And here is one of those times.

Warnings: 18+ || Tess. She’s a warning on her own lmao. Smut: oral ( reader and Tess receiving ), slight sub/Dom roles.

Word count: 4.2k of pure self indulgent filth.

Masterlist - Tess one shot requests are open!

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Tess was silent as you wound your way through the back alleys of the QZ, sticking close to the shadows and the walls. You knew your way around all the secret pass throughs like the back of your hand by now, which in that case was good. You were in a hurry.

You were supposed to have received a drop off from Bill and Frank on Monday. It was now Friday. Both previous attempts to collect your goods had gone south, FEDRA almost catching you both times.

And now you’d failed attempt number 3.

There had been a spike in people trying to escape the walls, take their luck surviving outside of zone in some hopes of a better future. So FEDRA had increased their presence by the walls. If it hadn’t had been for the other two making a break for it and distracting the officers from where you and Tess were positioned, you’d be in the back of an armoured truck having them see what size noose you wore.

Tess was pissed. Obviously. And stressed beyond belief. You both had people waiting on pills. On bullets. Food. On stupid shit like socks and books. And it was all sat outside the wall somewhere waiting to be collected. You just couldn’t reach it.

Tess ducked into one of the buildings that hid a tunnel heading right back near your apartment, still not speaking a word. Not even when she braced herself to boost you up onto the ledge leading out. No muttered annoyance at whoever had gone through there last not leaving the ladder in plain sight.

Not even a thank you when you held out your hand and pulled her up too. Just a nod of her head and a light hand to your back, ridding you of your backpack and tucking it away for next time.

It wasn’t until back in the relative safety of your shared apartment did she finally break her silence.

You watched her intently as she pulled off her jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch before slumping down, elbows on her knees.

“ fuckin FEDRA assholes “ it didn’t really hold the level of anger you’d expected. Her voice wasn’t bitter, no venom laced her words. In fact she just sounded… tired. Like the entire weight of the world was currently sat upon her shoulders.

“ we can try again tomorrow “ she shook her head and sighed again sitting back, looking up at the ceiling.

“ if our shits even still there. There was food in that package too. Fuckin fox or dog or some shit has probably had a field day with it “ she pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed now. you wandered over to her and carefully placed your self in her lap, cupping her face gently in your hands.

“ then we get the other stuff. People will soon realise that FEDRA have upped security by the wall, they’ll stop tryna run for a while, officers will be deployed else where. Then we get our shit “ her eyes danced across your face for a moment, sadness swimming across her pupils “ what’s going on with you today? “ you brushed her hair away from her face, running your fingers lightly through the greys peppering her temple before tucking it behind her ears

“ I don’t know “ she’d never really been one to talk about her feelings. She was honestly pretty fucking shit at expressing them in any way that truly made sense most of the time. In fact in the 10 plus years you had been together you didn’t think you could even actually recall a time she’d said ‘I love you’.

Of course she told you in other ways. In the ‘ be fucking careful ‘ , the ‘ touch her and I blow your fucking brains out’. In the tender kisses that were reserved solely for you, in those moments where you hid away from the world and pretended you were safe. The hand to your shoulder. The strong arms around you as you slept. She was better at showing than speaking.

“ you can talk to me “

“ yeah. I know “ she held your gaze for a moment, some wordless discussion happening between you. It was like she didn’t quite know what to say. She didn’t know how to ask for help, didn’t know how to truly make herself vulnerable to you. Even after so much time. And it was funny actually. Because she could do it to you so easily. Could have you tearing your heart out and serving it up to her on a silver platter with very little effort. But she was so unbelievably opposite.

So reserved and closed off. So strong and demanding and powerful.

She looked on the verge of speaking. Or kissing you. Or both. Eyes darting between your own and your lips. But she did neither. Simply sighed again, her face taking on that look that said she very much did not want to talk about it now. And she patted your leg lightly, urging you to stand.

You watched her walk over to the kitchenette, suddenly unbelievably interested in cleaning dishes. Keeping busy. Keeping her hands occupied.

You knew Tess well enough to know that what would usually have calmed and eased most, wouldn’t work with her. You couldn’t use all the techniques she used on you. The way she would pet your hair and let you cry into her chest after a particularly traumatic nightmare, the way her hands that were covered in so much blood could be so gentle and tender with you, her usual demanding bark that she used with people on the black market that crossed her, that turned soft for you.

It wouldn’t work on her. She’d never let you do it either. You’d tried before and she’d shut herself off from you.

She wasn’t one for pity and sympathy. So no, you couldn’t use all of her tricks for her. On her. But you could use one.

The most common, the one that was her go to. The one that had you floating and mind crumbling to mush inside your skull, had your blood morphing into a river of molasses in your veins. Slowing you down. Forcing you to relax.

She’d never let you go to that extreme on her, that was a fact. But with how truly drained she looked in that moment? You were convinced you could push her a little. Force her to relax and try and give her the treatment that so often saved you from losing your own damned mind.

A break.

A solitary moment where she didn’t have to be strong. Or powerful or whatever the fuck else she forced herself to be everyday.

“ Tess “ she looked over at you as you stood by the counter, the usual fiery look in her eye not burning as brightly as it usually did. She was running on empty “ c’mere “ she hesitated for a moment before drying her hands on a towel and walking over. Your heart was racing a little, not used to the possible switch in dynamic you were about to propose. You cupped her cheek gently, thumb brushing along her cheekbone for a moment. To your mild surprise, She was the one to lean in, capturing your lips with hers in a kiss far gentler than normal.

She usually had a force behind her, a solid and sure hold on your face. Or your waist. Where ever she’d chosen to anchor herself to you. Usually gave the direction, the press of her thumb to make you tilt your head a certain way or the one to brush her tongue over yours and silently command you to submit. But in that moment she didn’t. It was still there… sort of. The hand that had planted itself on your waist lightly fiddling with the hem of your shirt, cold fingers slipping under so desperate for the skin to skin contact she always craved. Fingers pressing into your flesh, but lighter.

And it gave you the motivation you needed. The motivation to attempt to peel her apart until she was as open as she could be to you.

“ I want you on your knees “ you said against her lips, your voice low. Not entirely commanding in the way that she usually was, but far more than you’d ever let yourself be before. For a brief moment you regretted it, wishing you’d just left her be. But, to your complete surprise, she did it.

Her hands trailed down your body as she went, along your arms and over the dip of your waist, pausing briefly on your hips before falling loosely into her lap as she sat on her heels.

You hoped you didn’t look as lost as you felt. Even when traversing the sticky handlings of drop offs you weren’t as stern as Tess could be. The people that feared you only really doing so because they knew you had Tess right at your side, and Joel on the other. But you could still hold your ground. And she had done this for you so many times before, pushed you to submit and let your mind leave you for a while. It was about time you repaid her. So you tried.

“ take them off, my jeans “ you were still on edge waiting for her to laugh at you for even attempting to switch roles. Maybe yank you down onto the kitchen floor with her and fuck you into the floor tiles until you couldn’t walk anymore. Show you how it was really done But she didn’t. In fact she almost looked relieved. Eyes almost glassy with some kind of relaxed fogginess, the weight of her week slowly lifting from her shoulders. A realisation that in that tiny little apartment she wasn’t expected to be cruel, to be loud and in charge. That she could be vulnerable. No one expected anything of her there, least of all you.

She still had her usual Tess tendencies. Dragging everything out. Slow as she unbuttoned the tight denim that was hugging your body. Dragging them down your legs in a way akin to some kind of odd assisted strip tease.

“ can I- “ she cut herself off with a huff. Seemingly some mixture of annoyed and embarrassed at being put in the position you always held. The one asking permission. You reached out for her again, hands cupping her face and making her look up. Her eyes had closed, some debate clearly happening behind her eyelids.

“ Tess “ she kept her eyes closed, her face still not as relaxed as you wanted it “ Tess, love. Open your eyes “ you coaxed, rubbing soft circles into her cheeks with your thumbs until they opened “ relax. I’m trying to help you. To you know, Relieve some stress “

“ yeah. I know “ she sighed, her hands gently running up and down your legs. Hands that were rough from fighting her way through the hell of the last 20

Years, that sent your skin raising in goosebumps. Like a trail of braille that only she could decipher, the reactions and workings of your body made solely for her to understand “ I’m not very good at asking permission “

“ then don’t. Just act “ and she did, leaning forward, brushing her nose against your cloth covered mound. Slow and wet open mouthed kisses through the fabric of your underwear and you feared she was simply slipping back into her usual ways. Teasing mercilessly and dragging things out for hours. But that wasn’t how you wanted to play. This was only the start “ take them off “ her fingers hooked into the waist band and dragged them down your legs without further prompting.

She lifted your left leg, pulling your foot from the loop. And then the right. But instead of putting the right carefully back down again, she hooked it over her shoulder. She kept her eyes on you as she pressed kisses along your inner thigh and you snaked a hand down into her hair.

“ stop teasing “ it came out a little breathier than you’d wanted, not as stern as you’d been hoping for. You really weren’t cut out for the dominant role. But you sure as hell were going to keep trying.

“ then tell me what you want “ even then with her voice more gentle that it usually was, she still had that control. She would never lose it you were certain. But either way, it was distracting her from her stress and that was all that mattered.

“ you know what I fucking want “ you said and slipped your hand further into her hair, curling your fingers into it and tugging her back a little to look at you more “ so fucking do it “

“ yes ma’am “ she said with a small laugh, even mocking a salute with her fingers before burying her face in you. Your fingers tugged at her locks wrapped around your fingers, in a way that was no doubt painful, as you gasped. But she didn’t react, too preoccupied with you, her lips sucking harshly at your clit.

“ and none- none of your teasing shit “ you could feel her smile against you and you didn’t even care that you were well and truly shit at telling her what to do, because at least she’d cracked a fucking smile. If she was making fun of you not, you didn’t care.

“ nice and quick. I can do that “ the truth to the matter was, you did want it over fast. Knowing that getting her to let you touch her was a rare occurrence. And she definitely wouldn’t let you if you hadn’t already came first at least once.

And you needed to touch her. Wanted to. Desperately. Needed to show her the same attention she showed you, to have her floating and forgetting why she was even stressed out in the first place.

Not that Tess needed to know that just yet.

You let her work her magic, head thrown back in pleasure as she alternated between wrapping her lips around your clit and thrusting her tongue into you. It was barely a couple minutes before she already had you on the edge, eyes locked firmly on your face as you clenched around her tongue. Some attempt to keep her there and not let her leave

“ fuck. Fuck just like that “ her fingers pressed harder into the flesh of your thigh, so hard you knew you’d have bruises blossoming across your skin in the morning. A colourful reminder of exactly who you belonged to “ just like that oh shit “ you looked down at her, truly admiring the image of her there on her knees. Committing it to memory, certain you wouldn’t see it again anytime soon. Noting the almost submissive look that was clouding her eyes as she kept up her pace, relentless in her efforts to have you coming on her tongue.

It was something you’d never known you needed, to see her like that. To see the woman that had people moving out of her way as she walked past, too scared of upsetting her or getting in her way, right there on her knees. For you. Only for you. She was ravishing.

“ fuck- I’m gonna- Tess “ you whined, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some attempt to stave off the noises slipping from your throat. You kept her intense eye contact as your orgasm slammed into you, blooming from the pit of your belly and making your entire body shake. You gasped out her name as she worked you through it, only stopping when you tugged at her hair to detach her from you “ too much “ you mumbled, leaning your head back and attempting to catch your breath.

She peppered light kisses across your thigh before gently easing your leg back onto the floor. You simply wanted to melt into a puddle and bathe in the bliss she’d gifted you for the rest of the day. But you had more important things to do rather than sit and soak in your post orgasm glow. You looked down at her again, quite certain you could actually come again just from the sight of her.

She truly was a sight to behold on her knees. Paired with the mess you’d made of her hair and the evidence of what she’d just done to you coating her lips and chin in a glossy sheen, it was almost too much to bare. You needed her desperately. Needed to ravish her until she forgot her own name, some deep primal instinct to be the one to make her feel as good as she did you.

“ c’mere. Up here. Come here “ you said almost in a rush. She pressed a kiss to your thigh again before rising to her feet, kissing you without you having to ask. You could taste yourself on her lips, something that only made that fire burn stronger in your chest, setting your entire body ablaze with a desperate want to simply give. To please “ come with me “ you said in between hurried kisses, tugging at her hands in the direction of your bed.

“ what are you- “

“ shh. Just do as I say “ you kept kissing her as you went, not able to bring yourself to stop even for a second.

Sometimes when you sold your pills they would ask you if you sampled your own goods. Which you did. Occasionally. But never enough to let it become an addiction like them. Cause Why on earth would you need pills to feed an addiction when you had her? What high could possibly even come close to the one that was kissing her? Tasting her, touching her, completely and utterly consuming her. Nothing could beat it. No drug no drop of alcohol.

“ lie down “ you gave her shoulders a push to urge her on, crawling on top of her as you did. Her hands were all over you, roaming under your shirt and trailing along your spine. You detached your lips from hers and began pressing a trail of kisses across her jaw, along her cheekbones, on every scar and line her face held. You could feel her melting beneath you, her tense muscles gradually turning to Jelly. It was working.

“ Tess “ you said softly, close to her ear, finger tracing along the waistband of her jeans “ will you let me help you relax? please let me “ you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips again “ I want to help you “ she pushed your hair back behind your ear, trailing her fingers across your jaw to rest on your chin. Her thumb ran over your bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it snap back into place “ Tess “ her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, letting out a slightly shaky breath as you said her name.

“ say it again “ it was so quiet you weren’t entirely sure you’d heard her correctly.

“ Tess “ her body visibly relaxed beneath you, her shoulders go slack as she melted down further into the mattress.

“ I love the way you say it “

“ Tess “ you whispered it softly, as if it were the most beautiful word to ever leave your mouth, brushing your lips over hers. Her eyes were still closed, lips parted as her chest rose and fell in a deep and steady pace. You kept repeating it, over and over like a mantra as you stripped her of her shirt, kissing every inch of new skin you revealed. Like some holy prayer that deserved nothing but the upmost care in reciting “ do you want me to help you? “ you caught her nod out of the corner of your eye but it wasn’t enough “ say it for me”

“ yes “ it was a whisper but you knew she didn’t have the strength to be more confident with it. So you didn’t push. Simply continued your path down her body, helping her out of her jeans and planting yourself between her legs.

You could actually count the number of times you’d gone down on her in the last 10 years on your fingers. She liked to give and was quite often reluctant when it came to receiving. So when she did let you, you weren’t going to squander it. She was watching you closely now, eyes heavy and half lidded as you moved forward. Letting her completely overwhelm your senses, letting her consume you.

Your fingers carefully parted her and you heard her breathe hitch, stuttering as your tongue licked a long stripe along the seam of her. You glanced up, checking on her. A moan left your own lips just at the sight of her, which was funny and maybe a little pathetic. But fuck it. Her lidded eyes and disheveled hair, the way her chest heaved and lips were slightly parted.

You waited. Waited for what felt like an eternity and a half before she gave you a small nod. The go ahead to continue. And you didn’t need telling twice. You buried your face in her cunt, eating her out like a woman starved.

She’d never really be one for making much noise, you were always the one that needed her hand clamped firmly over your mouth to stop you from waking the neighbours. And the entire QZ. But the small breathy moans she did allow herself were like music to your ears.

You wrapped your arms around her thighs, tugging her closer and unable to stop the smile the pulled at your lips as her back arched up from the mattress. You felt like the cat that had gotten the cream- metaphorically and figuratively you supposed- a mix of being smug and proud swirling in your mind.

Her taste was addictive. And maybe now you did understand how people can let themselves become so dependent on something, because who in their right mind would ever want to give up this? And with the opportunity for a hit of her so rare, you dare not let a single drop of her go anywhere but your tongue.

Her hands were twisted into the sheets, knuckles blanching with the force of it, short quick breaths escaping from between her lips.

You slowly added your fingers, working her open and coaxing something akin to more of a moan than quickened breath and you force yourself not to smile again.

“ is it good? “ you asked, curling your fingers in an attempt to locate the same spot she always abused in you.

“ shut the fuck up and keeping going “ bingo.

That had done it. She was just as desperate as you.

It simply made you more desperate, now that you were drawing more and more heavenly sounds from her mouth. You ate her like your life depended on it. It was messy. Indecent. Practically pornographic but you were too far gone, not a single care for anything other than making her come.

And god you needed to feel her come, needed to feel her clench around your fingers and trap your head between her thighs. Needed to hear the sounds she’d make and commit them to memory.

When her breaths quickened and her hips lifted from the bed you knew she was close and you reluctantly detached your lips from where you’d been suckling at her clit.

“ wanna come for me? “

“ I won’t fucking beg you for it “ she said, breathless, propping herself on her elbows to look down at you “ do you know how fucking smug you look right now? “ you could take a good fucking guess.

“ smug? Me? Never “ you curled your fingers again and watched her face soften, her eyes flutter

“ fuck you “

“ you already did “ she flashed you her practical trademark irritated face and you shrugged “ I’m not asking you to beg anyway. Just say please “ she scoffed and you shrugged again, reluctantly removing your fingers.

“ the fuck are you doing? “

“ say please “ she held your gaze for a few agonising moments, and you raised your eyebrow in a silent challenge “ say it. One word “ you started peppering kisses along her inner thighs, across her now puffy and sticky lips making sure to avoid where she actually wanted you “ I know you’re close. Know you want to come. Just say please “ it was mildly cruel. But also a little funny. After years of her making you beg she was finally getting a taste of her own medicine. She dropped her head back into the pillow and groaned.

“ please “

“ wasn’t so hard was it? “ you were back on her in an instant, luring her back to the edge with your lips, tongue, fingers.

The sound she made as she came was otherworldly, choking out a sob of your name and arching her back off of the mattress. Her thighs clamped around your head, forcing you to stay in place and drag out her orgasm for as long as humanly possible. Not that you had intended to do anything different anyway.

You lapped at her entrance determined not to waste a single drop of what she gave you, even if she was starting to affect your ability to breathe. But you figured it’d be a good way to go. At least you’d die happy.

When her body went slack you carefully crawled back up to her, pushing her hair away from her damp forehead and leaning down to kiss her.

“ better now? “ you asked quietly, already knowing the answer. She’d never looked more relaxed than she did in that moment. She hummed an answer pulling you down to lay with her, tucking you into her side. You pressed a kiss below her jaw and you felt her smile softly.

“ don’t get used to that “

“ wasnt planning on it “

[fixfoxnox]

good FUCKING LOORRDDTT

that price fic was so absolutely amazing 😮‍💨🤌🏽 fuck man that shit was piping hot friend… PIPING

respectfully sir —more PLEEAAASSSE 👹🫴🏽

Back Home - Captain Price x Trans! Male Reader (NSFW)

Description: John Price's boyfriend returns home from a mission so he bends him over his desk as a welcome home present

Warnings: Slight Dom/Sub, Slight Overstimulation, pet names

Names Used: Sweet boy, love, brat. No use of Y/N

Word count: 5.5k

Note: We're just gonna call this series "John Price and his boyfriend" cause now there is lore and backstory on how reader and Price met so-

NSFW Under the Cut!

“We’re closing!” The younger woman behind the bar called out to him, her face pinched in annoyance as he continued into the bar, not paying her any mind. It was clear that she was still new, she didn’t know him yet. “Hey, I said we’re closing!”

He turned to her with wide eyes, surprise written across his face. He hadn’t realized fully that she was talking to him, he’d assumed that she was calling out to someone in the bar but, now that he looked around, he could see that wasn’t the case. He was the only other person in the area. He shifted suddenly, readjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder, the one with all of his things that would need to be washed and cleaned before he got called out again. His mask especially was going to need some TLC. “Oh,” he started slowly, “I’m sorry, I’m-”

She cut him off, “I can’t give you any drinks or food. The chefs left an hour ago and you missed last call. We’re closing.” She stared at him for a moment, he stared back. Finally, she tilted her head toward the door, annoyance clear on her face, “Please leave.” 

He shuffled nervously again. He hated when new hires came in because it was always like this. They never knew before he got there and, though they were just trying to do their jobs, it always ended up with him feeling more awkward than he would have liked. It was never his luck to meet them on a regular night, it always seemed to coincide with when he would return from a mission, or just arrive at the bar late. He opened his mouth to speak, nerves chewing at him, they never believed him when he told them. 

Luckily for him, some god seemed to be smiling down on him that day as the other bartender, the one who did know him, came out from the back. The man gave him a big smile, “Hey! You’re back, welcome back dude!”

The girl looked back and forth between them for a moment before asking, “You know him?”

“Yeah,” the man turned, pulling a glass down from one of the higher shelves. He started to mix together a drink, a little tradition that he’d started for any time that he returned from a mission. “I forgot you’ve not met him yet, this is the boss's boyfriend.” 

He approached the bar slowly, noting the way that the woman’s mouth dropped open slightly and her head tilted to face him. He took the offered drink from the other bartender with a small smile and a nod of his head. “I didn’t know John was dating someone,” the woman spoke quietly, “Sorry man, if I’d known-”

He waved her off quickly, “Don’t worry, it happens with pretty much everyone new at one point or another.” He smiled into his drink taking another sip before asking, “Is he in his office?” 

“Yeah, man,” the male bartender leaned against the counter, “We’re about to head out, if you’d let him know we’re finished up I’d be grateful.” 

He pushed himself away from the bar with a chuckle, “Have a good night.” He gave the two people a slight wave before trekking his way toward the back of the bar, his drink still in hand. He didn’t bother knocking on the door of Price’s office, instead, he just pushed it open, standing in the doorway with a small smile as he watched the other man. Price was focused on one of the papers on his desk, writing something out in a quick flurry. He was a sight for sore eyes to the other man. 

After weeks of being out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by his brothers, dad, and teammates, the sight of his boyfriend was a welcome thing for him. He didn’t move until Price spotted him. The other man had turned to try and grab something, only to catch sight of him and do a quick double take as he realized just who was standing in the doorway to the room. A grin split across Price’s face and he couldn’t help but give a smile back. 

He crossed the room in several quick strides, abandoning his drink on the bookshelf by the door and dropping his duffel along the way so that he could sling his arms around Price’s shoulders and dip down to press their lips together. He gave a sigh at the feeling of the other’s mouth molding against his. This was what he’d missed more than anything during the mission. This feeling, the other’s mouth against his, Price’s hand in his hair gripping tightly to tug him further down. 

Price dominated his mouth, even from his relaxed position in his office chair, even when he had to tug him down to press their lips together. Price’s tongue quickly found its way inside his mouth, just enough that he could open his mouth against his lips, giving him quick nips to his bottom lip and pulling a low whine from him. Price was being rough with his kisses, which he knew meant one thing and one thing only.

After a moment, Price pulled away. He slowly unwinded his hands from his boyfriend’s hair, allowing him to stand up fully. His hands moved down to rub up and down the backs of his thighs, just skating over the beginning curve of his ass before moving back down. He gave a playful hum before tugging the man closer, “How was the mission, love?”

One of his hands landed solidly on Price’s shoulder, the other moved up to lovingly stroke through his hair, “Tiring,” He spoke lowly, “boring. I’m glad to be home.”

Price’s hands continued exploring, moving up and over his ass with a quick squeeze that pulled a gasp from his lips. They dipped under his shirt then, feeling along the skin. “I’m glad you’re home too,” Price muttered to him lowly. He’d dropped his voice into that low purr, the one that had his heart beating faster and his legs shaking beneath him. He was really in for it, it seemed. Those hands moved around the front of his chest, stroking his skin carefully as they moved down further and further until Price could slip his fingers in at the waistband of his pants. 

“You,” He took a careful breath in as Price looked up at him, clear desire in the other man’s eyes, “You just want to get me into a bed,” he accused.

“No,” Price scoffed. His hands moved over and started to undo the button at the top of his pants, “Right here is just fine, we don’t need a bed.” With that, he surged up from his seat, knocking his lips against the other man’s in a fiery kiss. 

The kiss was a searing quick thing, knocking their teeth together with the force in which they connected. Price was quick to lick into his mouth, sucking at his tongue and giving tempting little nips to his bottom lip. He tugged on Price’s hair, a desperate whine leaving his lips as the other man pressed him back against the desk behind him, grinding their lower halves together temptingly. 

Price gave a slow roll of his hips, pulling a desperate gasp from his boyfriend. He could feel the other man’s cock pressing against him through their clothes. A flood of warmth worked its way through his veins at the feeling. His face flushed red and he could do nothing but accept Price’s hands skating across his hips and his cock rutting up against his thigh.

Their kisses grew sloppier, spit slicking their lips as they tried to press closer and closer to one another. Price raised a hand to grab tight to his hair, tugging his boyfriend's head back so that he could press into him harder, fully taking control of the kiss. He broke off after a moment, one last nip given to the other’s lip before he began trailing searing kisses down his throat. Price gave a hum as the man pressed against him gave low moans at the feeling, mumbling out his name, “Fuck, John.”

Price kicked his feet apart then, slotting a thigh between his legs as his mouth left bruises on his skin. Price yanked his hips down roughly, forcing his core to rut against the strong thigh between his legs. The seam of his pants caught on his clit with delicious friction, pulling a startled gasp from him at the move. Price dragged him down again, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to him moan at the move. He was getting wetter, his boxers damp with his own slick as Price encouraged him to ride his thigh. 

With every drag across Price’s thigh, there was a searing friction to his clit. Delicious steady pleasure began to flow through him, drawn out by the man in front of him. On one particular roll of his hips, Price jolted his leg forward, making the feeling much more intense and overwhelming than what had been pressed against him previously. His hips stuttered at the feeling, and the low moan that was pulled from his lips was quickly swallowed as Price shoved their mouths back together, his hands dipping low to force their way under his shirt. 

“Let’s take this off,” Price growled against his lips. He had no choice but to listen, separating from the man in front of him just enough that he could sling his shirt off, tossing it to one of the corners of the small office area. Immediately Price’s mouth was on the exposed skin. 

He tilted his head back, “Please,” he whimpered as Price’s tongue and teeth began to drag over his collarbone, marking the skin of his chest carefully. Price paid him no mind, his hands joining his mouth’s exploration across the exposed skin while his thigh continued providing merciless pressure against his clothed cunt. 

His mouth traced down further and further, kissing along the scars on his chest before finally latching around one of his nipples, giving quick licks and nips to the little nub. His boyfriend reacted with a harsh gasp, his nails digging into Price’s shoulders as he tried to pull him closer. Steady little desperate gasps pulled from his throat as Price brought his other hand up to brush across his other nipple teasingly. It was like the pleasure of the feeling was preventing him from taking in a proper breath. 

Finally, after several moments, Price pulled back. He was quick to pull his own shirt off, tossing it away with his boyfriend’s before slamming their mouth’s back together. His boyfriend was quick to take advantage of the situation, feeling across Price’s chest with deliberate movements. He let his palms brush across the other man’s pecs, his nails just grazing over his nipples to pull a curse from the other man’s lips. “Fuck,” Price’s hands darted down, finding the button to his pants and quickly undoing them. 

He refused to separate his lips from Price’s, chasing after the other man and pulling him back any time he tried to move away. Open-mouthed kisses were exchanged between them, their movements sloppy as their minds focused on other things, like the way that Price was tugging at the top of his pants, yanking them down bit by bit. “God, fucking things,” Price cursed against their mouth, “fucking hate these, so hard to get off of you.”

His boyfriend gave a laugh against his lips, pulling back for a moment before teasing, “You’d probably prefer it if I didn’t wear pants at all.” He pressed closer to Price, making it even harder for the other man to get his pants and boxers down his thighs, “You just want me wet and ready for you all the time.”

Price gave a groan against his mouth, his eyes rolling back just slightly at the idea before his hands suddenly moved to grip the back of his boyfriend’s thighs. “Fuck it,” he growled out, annoyance clear in his voice. With that, he used his grip on his boyfriend’s thighs to tilt him back, roughly slamming his back onto the flat of his desk. From there he grabbed tight to the tops of his boyfriend’s jeans and yanked, pulling the man further down the desk with the movement. 

Price was rough with it as he pulled the other man’s shoes off, letting them fall to the ground with little care before finally, he was able to yank his boyfriend’s pants and boxers from his legs and toss them across the room where they wouldn’t cause him any more trouble. 

Price’s hands stroked carefully across his boyfriend’s naked thighs, his eyes raking across his skin hungrily. His boyfriend was flushed red from his face down to his chest that was rising and falling rapidly. Price was never one to deny himself a want, especially with the pliant man beneath him, so he didn’t resist the urge to dart down and begin trailing his tongue across the heated skin. 

He started at his neck, tracing over his previous marks with additional nips and soothing little licks from his tongue. From there he began moving down, following the flow of red with a grin on his lips as the man beneath him moaned out his name. He stopped to give a bit more attention to his nipples, his hands pinning the other’s hips to the desk as he tried to squirm against the pleasure. 

“John,” he moaned under him, his head tilted back as his hands grabbed at the other’s shoulders, trying to move him closer. His thighs felt slick from the other man’s attentions and Price hadn’t even fully touched him yet. The other man knew how to tease him just right, just enough to drive him up the wall. “Please,” he tried to rut his hips again, desperate for some sort of stimulation to his aching cunt, Price only tightened his grip, “Please, fuck, I need you.”

“Do you?” Price gave a low chuckle against his skin, his mouth finally moving away from his nipples to trace lower, slowly marking a path down toward where he wanted him most. “How do you want me, hmm?”

His boyfriend whined, throwing an arm over his eyes as Price went lower, his hands grabbing at his thighs to spread his legs. His lips moved to press kisses to his knees before beginning a slow trail down his thighs. He came close to his cunt, enough that he could feel Price’s breath on him, making his boyfriend clench down around nothing, but he didn’t connect, only pressed slow kisses to the other’s inner thighs. “Please,” he begged, “anything, anyway. However you want me, John, please!”

He could feel Price grin against his skin, “That’s what I like to hear, love.” With that, the man pulled back, his focus now completely on the sight of his boyfriend’s wet cunt. “Fuck,” he muttered. One of his hands moved down, just stroking over his boyfriend’s slit, collecting some of the wetness there to spread along his fingers. His boyfriend jerked up into the movement, an embarrassed noise leaving his throat as Price examined his fingers with a grin, “All this for me?” He gave a low chuckle, “Fucking perfect.”

With that he dived down, laving his tongue across his boyfriend’s cunt with one harsh move. Pleasure jerked through the other man’s system, his head banging back against the desk as his hand rushed down to grab tight to Price’s hair, trying to tug him closer. “John,” he called breathily, “Please, don’t tea-” A moan pulled from his throat as Price pressed fully against him, attacking his cunt with that clever tongue. 

Price’s beard rubbed deliciously against his thighs as the man gave several quick flicks of his tongue over the other’s clit, pulling sharp punched-out groans from the man beneath him. He wrapped his arms tightly around his boyfriend’s thighs, preventing his legs from closing around his head as he set himself to work licking and teasing his boyfriend’s clit. 

He moved his tongue in short tight little circles, occasionally stopping to wrap his lips around the other man and give a harsh suck that had his boyfriend’s back arching up from the desk. Price used his grip on his thighs to pull him closer, wet noises filling the air as he brought one of his hands over to tease at his boyfriend’s cunt. His arm pinned the leg he wasn’t holding down as his fingers stroked lightly over the other man’s entrance, pulling desperate whines from his mouth. 

He felt completely overwhelmed with the pleasure that Price was pulling from him. With every flick of his tongue, a new pang hit him. It pooled in his gut and fogged his mind, keeping him focused on the feel of the mouth against his cunt, the fingers teasing their way inside of him, and the hand gripping tight to his thigh. He was weak against the other man, unable to do anything but take the continuous abuse to his clit.

Price teased the tip of his finger in and out of his cunt, a pleased hum leaving his lips as the man below him began to beg, desperate for something more than what he was being given. “Please, John! Fuck me, you feel so good, you’re so fucking good at this,” his words devolved into a groan as Price gave another harsh suck to his clit. 

Finally, one of Price’s fingers pressed inside of him, moving in slowly until he was pressed down to the knuckle. He kept his finger there for a moment, just letting it sit inside of his squirming boyfriend as he continued giving steady sucks against his clit. It was clear that he was enjoying the increasingly desperate sounds coming from the man below him. Luckily, he wasn’t in the mood to wait long, his own aching cock begging for him to finally take the other man.

Price curled his finger inside of him, delighting in the high-pitched moan that escaped his boyfriend as he pressed deliciously against his walls. He began to slowly fuck his finger in and out of the other man, moaning at the feeling of the other’s wetness forming a sweet slide for him. “Fuck, so desperate for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” His boyfriend answered with a weak groan, “Yes, for you, John. God, please.”

Price chucked against him, his tongue dipping down to join his finger, sliding in beside the slowly moving digit so that he could lap at the slickness that formed there. He slowly began working another finger inside the other man, giving a content little sigh as he finally pushed two fingers inside.

The sensation of both Price’s finger and tongue inside of him was enough to have him bucking his hips again, trying to ride the other man’s fingers and tongue. The movement caused Price’s nose to rub against his clit, the sensation of that and the man inside of him was almost too much and he could feel his legs beginning to shake as he repeated the movement. “That’s it, baby,” Price moaned against his cunt, his fingers beginning to move quicker and twisting cruelly. 

Pleasure flowed through his body, filling his veins with warmth and slowly building higher and higher in him as Price continued his movements. His legs shook in the man’s hold and his hands in the other’s hair tightened, using his grip to pull the man closer and closer to him. Price was so good at this, his fingers making a scissoring motion inside of him, stretching him open as his tongue lapped at him with a steady pace. 

The man’s nose brushed against his clit again and he knew it wasn’t going to take much more for him to finish. “Fuck, fuck,” his voice came out in weak pants, “John, please, so close baby.” Price hummed against him, his fingers continuing their movement as he traced his mouth up to begin flicking over his clit again harshly. 

The move was quick to drive him over the edge, his hands tightening in Price’s hair as his mind seemed to fizzle out, pleasure flooding his system and attacking him in quick bursts as Price continued to flick over his clit. He could do nothing but ride the wave of pleasure that overtook him, babbling out Price’s name as he did. 

The smooth flick of pleasure quickly became too much for him, overwhelming as Price continued attacking his cunt and pushed him toward overstimulation. “John, wait, wait, wait,” he gave a choked-out moan as Price sucked on his clit again. The man didn’t seem to have any intentions of stopping, which meant that if he didn’t want to spend the rest of the night pinned to the man’s desk until he was begging him to stop, he was going to need to make a very good case for himself. “Please,” he begged, squirming in Price’s grip, “Please, John, need your cock so bad. Fuck, want you to,” he cut himself off with a moan as Price’s grip increased, “Please, need you to fuck me.” 

“Yeah?” Price gave a harsh slap to his thigh, still attacking his clit with his tongue. He was terribly hard in his pants, his own cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric and aching with interest at his boyfriend’s words. “Want me to fill you up, sweet boy? Fuck another one out of you?”

“God, yes,” his boyfriend moaned at the thought, his body still shaking even as Price finally pulled away from him, slowly removing his fingers from his cunt and giving one last good suck to his clit before standing up fully. He watched Price with desperate eyes, his breathing heavy from the pleasure that struck him only moment’s ago. 

Price stepped away from him, quickly undoing his pants and shoving them down just enough that he could pull his cock out. He gave himself several slow strokes, tilting his head back with a pleasured sigh as he finally soothed the near-painful arousal that had been drawn from him. His boyfriend was quick to sit up from the desk and bat his hand away, replacing it with his own.

He moved slowly, twisting his wrist and giving several slow tight strokes over the other man. He bit his lip at the sight, admiring the desperate pants that began escaping Price’s mouth as he let his thumb run over the tip of the other man’s cock. He slowly moved off of the desk, fully prepared to drop to his knees in front of the other man and let him fuck his throat. 

Price didn’t let him though and, instead, he roughly grabbed his arm and turned him around, slamming him down so that his face was pressed roughly to the wood of the desk. He felt heat rush through him at how rough the other was. “John,” he gave a whine, “Please.” 

“You can suck me off later,” Price leaned down so that his chest was pressed tightly to his back and his mouth was just beside his ear, “For now, I want to fuck that tight cunt of yours. You want that, love?”

He nodded his head rapidly, wiggling his hips back to try and get closer to the man. Price gave a groan as his cock pressed tight to the curve of the other man’s ass. “Brat,” Price chided quickly. He clearly wasn’t actually mad at him as soon he was standing back to his full height, one of his hands pressed to the small of his boyfriend’s back as his other guided his cock to his cunt. 

He took his time, rutting the length of his cock against the other’s slit for several moments, the tip of his dick occasionally brushing along his boyfriend’s clit to pull a shaky gasp from his lips. After several moments he guided himself to just slip inside of his boyfriend, only allowing a small part of his cock to enter the other man. He sat there for several moments, enjoying the way that the other man squirmed and whined against him. 

Finally, after several moments, he slowly began sinking into his boyfriend’s cunt, his head falling forward with a gasp as the tight wet heat enveloped his aching cock. In no time, he bottomed out, his front pressed firmly against his partner’s ass as they moaned out for him, the flush of their face trailing down their back as well. Price traced the sight with his fingers, a pleased moan leaving his lips as he felt the other man flutter around him. 

“Move, please please please, John,” he moaned out for him, the feeling of the other man filling him up was so good, the stretch a delicious thing, but he needed more. He wanted to feel the other man fucking into him exactly like he knew he wanted to. 

Price grabbed tight to his hips, “Beg some more, love.” He gave a shallow thrust of his hips, his hands tightening at the feeling. He didn’t move again though, he had too much control for that, too much control to not get what he wanted from this situation. 

“John,” his boyfriend babbled out, his face twisted up with need, “Please fuck me!” He gave another moan as he buried his face into his hands, embarrassment running through him as he continued, “Please I need it, need to be fucked. I need you to fill me up, oh god, want to feel you cum inside me!”

Price gave something similar to a snarl at those words and, before his boyfriend could prepare himself, he was setting a rough pace, pulling back to fuck into him with harsh quick thrusts. Price tugged his hips back to meet his thrusts, hitting deeper and deeper with every move. His boyfriend could do nothing but grab tight to the desk and take what the other man was giving to him, his face pressed into the cool wood as the sound of skin slapping skin rang out around the room. 

Price moved to drape himself across his boyfriend’s back then, removing his hands from the man’s hips in favor of wrapping one around his throat. He used his grip on the other’s throat to pull his face up from the desk, turning him just enough that he could press their mouths together in a filthy kiss. His other hand connected with one of his boyfriend’s landing on top of his hand to lace their fingers together in a move that was startlingly soft in comparison to his harsh movements. 

The sounds of their moans mixed together, swallowed by the other’s lips as they enjoyed one another, wringing pleasure from the other’s body with every move. The desk rattled dangerously under the strength of Price’s thrusts, items falling to the floor with every move. Neither of them paid it any mind, too focused on the other. 

“John,” he muttered against Price’s lips, he pulled away from the other man with a gasp as Price hit that spot inside of him that had him seeing stars. He could do nothing but say the other’s name as Price readjusted and moved to hit that spot with every thrust of his hips, forcing him to clench tight around him as pleasure began building inside of him, threatening to topple over ever so quickly. Price had done a number on him earlier and it was clear that he was still feeling the aftershocks of that. 

“That’s it, love,” Price practically purred in his ear. His own voice was clearly strained, sweat slicking between their bodies from the effort, “That’s it, fuck, you take me so well.” He tilted his head back with a groan, his pace growing more frantic. It was clear that he was building to that edge, every slide of his cock inside of his boyfriend pulling a desperate gasp from him. 

“Please,” His boyfriend cried out. He was so close, he was right there on the edge, right there on the edge of too much and yet not enough. Price could tell, he knew from the way his legs were shaking and his cunt was fluttering around him deliciously. His hand around the other’s neck moved away, trailing down his body until he could press two of his fingers against his clit, rubbing tight circles against him. 

He came with a cry of the other’s name, his face falling forward against the desk as he jerked uselessly against the other man who was still pounding into him at a quick pace. He was overwhelmed in the best way possible, his mind blank and his vision whiting out around the edges as he was worked deliciously through the pleasure.

Price continued to fuck into him, his own thrusts growing more and more sloppy as the feelings of pleasure curled into his gut, warming his skin. He buried his face into his boyfriend's shoulder, mouthing at the skin there as his moans grew more and more desperate, more and more wild. With the feeling of his boyfriend still fluttering and clenching around him as overstimulation began to drive at him, it wasn’t long until Price was giving several stuttered thrusts before burying himself deep inside of the other man, spilling into his waiting cunt. 

They stayed like that for several moments, pressed against each other on the desk, cum dripping from between them to begin slipping down their thighs. Price gave several slow kisses along his boyfriend’s shoulder, one of his hands softly running up and down his thigh as the other stayed laced together with his own. “I missed you,” Price muttered into his skin, his voice soft. “I love you,” he pressed a kiss to his neck, “So much, love.” 

He hummed against the other man, his lack of sleep from the mission and their past activities making his eyes feel heavy, “Love you, missed you.” He paused for a few moments before muttering, “Fucking tired though.” 

Price gave a rumbling laugh from behind him, “I can imagine.” He pressed another quick kiss to his shoulder before slowly beginning to draw back, both of them wincing at the too-much pleasure that panged through them at the move. After a moment Price was able to pull away fully. His boyfriend stayed leaning against the desk, listening to the sounds of the other moving around behind him, likely gathering their clothes. 

Another few moments passed and he felt his eyes drooping, a haze slowly clouding his mind. That disappeared with a sudden press of something cold between his legs. He gave a hiss at the feeling, jerking away as the cold wet wipe cleaned up between his legs. “Sorry, love,” Price muttered to him. He finished in only a few moments before tossing the wipe into the small trashcan beside his desk. 

He gently grabbed at his boyfriend hauling him up from the desk and holding him against his chest for a moment. “Get dressed for me?” He kept his voice soft and punctuated his words with a kiss to the man’s cheek. “I’ll take you home, you can nap in the car.” 

“Hmm, a nap sounds wonderful,” he turned his head with a lazy grin, capturing Price’s lips in a short sweet kiss before carefully pushing away from the other man. His legs were a bit shaky and he stumbled forward. Price was quick to grab his arm, steadying him with a concerned glance. He waved him off, “I’m fine, you just fucked me a little too good.”

Price shook his head, a small smile on his face, “You’re ridiculous.” He turned to his chair, gathering up the clothes that he’d already gathered and handing them over to the man. “Get dressed, love.”

He did as he was told, slowly putting his clothes back on as Price moved around the room, picking up the things that had fallen from his desk and fully closing up the bar for the night. By the time he’d fully finished, his boyfriend was already long dressed. He’d collapsed into the man’s office chair and was dozing off when Price finally knelt in front of him, a small smile on his face as he shook his knee to wake him fully. “Time to leave?”

“Time to leave,” Price confirmed. His boyfriend gave a small playful cheer before pushing himself up from his chair. He made a point to grab his duffel as they headed to the door, though it was quickly snatched away from him by Price and slung over his shoulder instead. When he raised an eyebrow at the man, all he got in return was Price holding out his empty hand for him to take. He didn’t try to question the man any further.

He latched on to Price’s arm, leaning against the man with a satisfied smile on his face as they made their way through the empty bar and out into the cool air of the night. He felt warm and tired and, above all, an overwhelming sense of comfort. He was finally back with Price. Finally back home.

[sweet-villain]

You Were Always My Choice ~ S.H

Author's Note : Happy Valentines, @witchy-munson <3

Summary: You were too fond how close Nancy and Steve were getting. You decide to take matters in your own hands when you show up to a Valentines Day party with an unknown man by your side. Steve is alert and wants your attention. But will you give it to him?

You tightened the grip on the bowl you were holding hearing Steve and Nancy laugh in the living room while you were getting snacks in the kitchen. You gritted your teeth in anger opening a bag of chips and pouring them into a bowl.

" You look like you blew a fuss" Dustin says standing by your side. You nearly jumped out of your skin hearing him right next to you.

"Jesus, Henderson. Don't go scaring me like that, I could of flung these chips in your face" Dustin chuckled as he took one from the bowl.

" But you didn't" he grinned, taking the bowl. " Don't stand in the kitchen too long or you'll miss the movie" he says.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance turning around to get the rest of the snacks.

" Need any help?" Steve says as he walks into the kitchen. His eyes drop where your hands are opening a bag of pretzels. " You and Munson have some sort of addition with pretzels. Are you sure your not siblings?"

You snort as you peek into the living room seeing Dustin plop down next to Eddie on the couch as the two started to attack each other with pillows.

" I'm sure" your eyes meet his brown eyes. Your fingers itch to run your fingers through his hair.

" Movie starting soon, you don't wanna miss it" he says, pointing with his finger behind him. You nod carrying a bowl of pretzels, while he carried the other snacks.

" Did you get me my own bowl?" Eddie asks spotting the pretzels in your hands. " You have two hands and two feet, Munson. Go get it yourself" you sat down on the other couch next to Robin watching as Steve plops next to Nancy.

You looked away in case he felt your eyes on him and it would give you away what you were feeling inside.

" He's missing out, he's a dingus. Don't mind him" Robin whispers into your ear. " You're really hot" she adds, with a wink causing you to laugh. A hand reaches into a bowl you were holding, it's a ring clad hand reaching for a bunch of pretzels.

" Munson! I don't know where your hands have been, get your hands out of my pretzels" Eddie laughs as he playfully shoves his hand of pretzels against your mouth.

This action caused Steve to look over as his jaw clenched at the sight of Eddie laughing while you shoved Eddie away from you.

" You're an idiot" you mumbled standing up and dusting off the crumbs off your shirt. Steve looked away in anger.

He couldn't help himself seeing you intact with Eddie like that wishing it was him that peeked your interest. Nancy watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched.

She rolled her eyes at the way he was acting. He should really tell you how he feels.

‎♡‧₊˚

You stepped out of the dressing room as Robin waiting in the chair looking bored out of her mind. She had promised to take you shopping with her but she honestly was looking for a dress that would woo the eyes of Steve Harrington. Dingus needed to get it through his head that he should tell you how he feels when all he's doing is making it look like the two of you are just friends.

" Which dress is this?" She asked overlooking the racks to her right. You had tried almost every color that you thought would look good on you but when you walked out of the dressing room each time, Robin kept yelling, " Next!"

" The sixth dress, I think" you tell her through the door. " I can't get the zipper"

" Let me see" Robin says watching the door open and you step out in a red dress that made her gasp at the sight of you. " It's perfect" she says more to herself than you. " You look so hot" she says, clearing her throat. "If you weren't into Steve, I would totally swoop you off your feet."

" What about Vicky?" Robin waved her hand as she twirl her finger for you to turn around. You turned around feeling her fingers zip up your dress as she looks at you in the mirror.

" He's not going to see what's coming" you shrugged.

" I don't really know anymore, Steve talks about Nancy this and Nancy that. I'm so tired of it" Robin shoots you a sympathetic look through the mirror brushing your hair behind your ears as she looks at you.

" You're breath taking, you don't need Steve to tell you that"

Your cheeks flushed red as you playfully push her shoulders, " Flattery works on me."

" Oh god, you sound like Munson now" you rolled your eyes, " we could be siblings. But he's my best friend "Robins nods.

" I don't see you ever getting with Eddie" you shrugged.

" I'm going with a new guy I've met at work to the party" her eyebrow shoots up in interests. " I'm all ears, but first you need to buy this dress. It screams you"

You bought the dress and began to tell Robin about the new guy. Honestly, he was just a distraction from Steve but she didn't need to know that.

‎♡‧₊˚

Robin was the one who ended up inviting everyone over to Steve's house over this Valentines Day party. Your hands reach the door handle throwing it open with your so called date behind you. You were wearing the dress that you bought out shopping with Robin.

" You look so hot" Robin spots you as she throws her arms around you, a drink in her hand. " Are you drunk?" you asked her. She shook her head raising her index and thumb up and pinching it showing you a small space in between.

" Tipsy. Not drunk" Vicky comes up behind her as her eyes spot you.

" Oh my god, look at you. You are absolutely stunning" she says.

" Thank you" you smile at her looking around to see Steve popping his head to the music as he threw his hands up. " Is he okay?" you giggled watching him sway his hips to the music.

Robin and Vicky looked towards your line of vision, laughing as Steve danced or whatever he wad doing.

Your smile drops spotting Nancy make her way over to him, and whispering something his ear. Your date had his arm wrapped around as he looked bored

His eyes land on you when he finds you and he stopped listening to what Nancy was telling him. His breath hitches as he takes you in. That dress on you fits you so well, the way you look so stunning surrounded by people.

He felt his heart race as his eyes roam to your legs, he can see they are smooth and his hand itched to run them down to feel the softness of your skin.

" Jesus, Steve. Go talk to her, you look like you are about to have a heart attack" he hears Nancy speak to him. When Steve glares at her from a brief moment and turns to look at you. Your gone. His eyes roam the room to see if he could spot you and instead he leaves Nancy standing there without another word.

He finds you in the kitchen with your date talking to you. His hand clenches by his side. Who was this person? Steve has never seen him in his life.

You don't notice that Steve was following you and been staring at you since you walked through the doors of his house. He can't keep his eyes off of you as he continues to take you in. You were beautiful. He always saw you like that. He was too afraid to admit it to you on how he felt. He didn't want to lose you.

" That dress looks really nice on you" your heard from the side. Steve. He had made his way over to you not standing the fact that you were attached to someone else. He wanted to be the one to be attached to you.

" Thank you, Steve" you mumble throwing him a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes. " I need something stronger than this" you brought the cup to your lips as you tasted it.

" I got you" your date says as he slips away leaving you with Steve.

" Where is Nancy?" you asked. There it was, he could see the way your eyes got a bit darker and your jaw clenched.

" She's somewhere" he shrugged keeping his eye on you.

" Why aren't you with her?" you asked.

" She's not the one I've been looking for" your eyebrows scrunched up together in confusion. Steve liked another girl? Who?

" Is it any of the girls here?" you asked, leaning into his ear to whisper. It was so loud at the party.

He nodded, " she's the prettiest out of all of them. Red suits her" you pulled your head away over looking the girls he must be talking about. Not anyone is in red except for you.

" I-Ive gotta find my date" Steve frown the fact that you want to get away from him.

‎♡‧₊˚

Steve finds you sitting on his stairs with a cup in your hands.

" Where's your date?" he asks, sitting besides you. He's no longer drinking as his mind took over the way you look tonight and why he wasn't the one who had his arm wrapped around you.

" Over there, making out with that one" you motion with your hand over to the living room. Steve looks over for a moment mumbling " prick" underneath his breath as he turns to you.

" are you okay?"

" Peachy" he frowns, reaching up to brush away your hair and put it behind your ear.

" It's his loss honestly" you shrugged.

" Not like any man would want someone like me" his eyebrows knitted together. " Someone like you? Have you seen you?"

" What are you saying, Harrington?"

" You're absolutely beautiful, you're kind, you're passionate, you're funny, you make people laugh till they cry, you bring out the best in people and you never cease to amaze me" your eyes met his brown eyes as they shined. His lips are turned into a smile as he looks at you.

" I don't understand" he chuckles.

" You've always been the girl I've most paid attention too" this time you were the one chuckling.

" Don't lie to me, Steve. Don't" he shakes his head.

" It was never about anyone else, ask anyone" you motion your hand over to Nancy were she danced. " What about her?"

" Nancy is nothing compared to you, you were always going to be my first choice and every choice I make after. No one can change that"

" Steve.."

" No one" he leans in, looking you in your eyes before his eyes fall down to your lips. " Just you" he whispers against your lips. " Always you" he says pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and full of passion as your turn your body to face him. He cups your face with both his hands, kissing you like you were going to slip out of his hands.

You couldn't believe what was happening and all because of the red dress that Robin had picked out. It caught the attention of the boy you have been crazy about for. You need to take Robin more with you when you go shopping.

You pulled away breathless as he rest his forehead against yours, " You are my only choice. Okay?"

" Okay" you nodded, leaning back in as you kiss him.

[kitkat27]

Two Lines

Ilsa discovers life changing information but dealing with Lane again will have to come first …

Posted on ao3 - kit_kat_27

Thank you sooooo much to @justabigassnerd for putting up with me for the last couple of months while I’ve been writing. Couldn’t have done it without your support!

It will becoming a series hopefully (comment if you want on the taglist)

Please let me know what you guys think. I’ve not done a lot of romance and haven’t written for about 2 yrs so I’m a bit rusty. This is my first fic in this fandom, it’s one of the longest I’ve written and one of my first fight scenes. Ignore grammar and spelling mistakes. This will be posted on ao3 too !

Two lines. Two definite pink lines. Two lines blink back at her confirming her suspicions. Two lines that will now change her life from this exact moment.

Two lines that couldn't be erased. Lines that confirm her body was right. All the signs that she had been dodging confirmed her fears.

Fingers grazed against her abdomen, as if her fingers were scared if they lingered too long it would confirm her fears.

This had been at the bottom of her list, hell after being with the syndicate for two years it had been erased from it. And for finding out, a derelict safe house in rural Denmark was not the scenario she had thought of many years ago.

She had snagged the test the other week and let it burn a hole in her bag until she was going to pop under the pressure.

She'd finally given in to the pressure at the safehouse with the safety of knowing the boys wouldn't be back for another couple of hours.

But now she wasn’t sure what to do, sitting in the bathroom staring at the two pink lines. For once in her life she didn't have the next step already planned. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there as the sounds of the boys inthe driveway indicated their return.

Not wanting Ethan to find out yet, she needed to wrap her brain around it first, she shoved the test down into the depths of her bag where she hoped it would stay hidden until she was ready to tell.

‐—--------------‐—-----------------

Solomon Lane was a name that kept appearing, though all four wished it didn't. Every time they thought they were done he would reappear.

And so they were, here again, staring at the computer each wishing that if the computer was closed and reopened it would be gone, and they could go back to chilling in their safe house.

But alas, they did. Brandt, who now made secretary, had sent them an email after word had gotten out that Lane had escaped Alana's grip and had not been handed over to MI6.

Nobody knew if either Alanna or the Mi6 had played a part in his escape. You can only trust a broker so much, Alanna would always think of herself no matter what she had promised.

But the wind was that he had escaped to Europe where some of his still, somehow, loyal followers remained. The organization was heading to a remote village in Kashmir threatening to release a nuclear bomb that would starve a third of the world's population.

Brandt was warning them to take these hints about Lane with a pinch of salt as it wasn't said who had given them this information and to approach the entire case with caution.

She was going to have to put telling Ethan, he would end the mission before it even started if she told him now the news on the back burner for now. If Lane found out they were carrying new information he wouldn't stop till he found.

————————————-

They split up once they reached the camp, Lane would stand out like a sore thumb in the remote village.

Ethan and Luther took to the nearby medical camp, leaving Benji and Ilsa to tackle the village. Ethan and Ilsa didn’t want to split, they worked better together but Lane would be wanting them to be together.

Once they reached the village, they split again to cover more ground while keeping each other in sight. Well, it was more Ilsa keeping an eye on Benji as she was concerned about Benji running into Lane alone again.

She knew he’d passed field tests and could hold his own, but he didn’t have the same skills or experience. She and Ethan had an unspoken agreement that they’d always put themselves in the firing line before Luther and Benji.

Making her way around the village, she did her best to stay under the radar. Lane had predicated all their movements but she had wanted to at least try to be in front. Out of the main village, on the outskirts, a lone house stood. Void of any women or children hanging outside, drawing her to it.

‘Benji, I may have a lead, stay close by and on comms. We'll draw attention if we both go ‘

Her fellow brit already began to panic at her evading the laid out plan, ‘‘Ilsa, you know what etha-’

‘Stay close by, I need to do this’ and with that, she blocked out the following Benji ramble.

Nothing on the outside balcony gave any clues to Lane. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, she could hear Benji arguing in her ear and threatening to switch on Ethan’s earpiece knowing he would stop this.

But she wanted to, no she needed to take on Lane herself.

She needed to find some form of closure from the years she worked in the syndicate, and the pain and torture he put her friends through.

Some closure for the nights she woke up screaming. All the years by herself, all the years alone, he needed to repay.

She made her way into the house. with each step she took her mind was on overdrive, her eyes darting back and forth making sure her six was covered.

Training would tell her that walking through an open door is a trap. Sweeping the first room, there was nothing in the house that wasn't covered in dust or had seen better days.

A blur of movement occurred in her peripheral vision of a figure moving to another room. Mentally apologizing to Ethan and the boys she followed.

The room was the same as the last a movement attracting her to a darkened section of the room causing her to turn aro-

A blinding pain across the back of her skull turned her vision white.

With the back of her head throbbing leaving her frozen, another blow to her lower back dropped her to the ground, the world turning black.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Ilsa, Ilsa. I know you can hear me. I'm a second away from calling Ethan’. This wasn't a good idea.

‘Ilsa you better respond’

Why couldn't Luther have gone with Ilsa, she listened to him the most. Luther was the only one who sometimes could reign her in these situations.

Ilsa’s tracker showed her around the edge of the village, where Lane would want her. He would know she would split from the group and that she would tackle him alone. Pulling out his phone he sent a message to Luther, warning of his worries without alerting Ethan.

He readied his gun as he spotted the lonely house in front of him. Why could the bad guys never be sitting in a coffee shop ready to hand themselves over after grabbing a latte?

Silence. The house was empty. 2 spies would be quiet but shouldn’t be completely silent.

Sweeping all the rooms in the house, the worry grew with every increasing minute he spent with no sign of Ilsa or Lane.

‘ Ilsa, Ilsa are you i-’, blood.

Blood. Ilsa’s gun.

Blood, a lot of blood for a spy who was the best of the best.

‘ Benji, where are you?’, shit Ethan.

‘ The house at the end of the village, Ilsa spotted Lane here and went after him. She’s-’, doing this over comms would be easier than face to face, ‘she’s not here Ethan. Lane has her, she's injured’

Ethan never panicked but he’d never had someone like Ilsa in his life before.

The one warning he had given to the team was to not take Lane on alone, especially Ilsa. She had failed tests towards the end of her undercover stint. She wouldn't be lucky the next time she ran into Lane alone.

Lane and Ilsa were stubborn and hot-headed, with an intense hatred for each other, what would happen when the two were reunited Ethan didn't want to know.

In the safe house in Denmark she had acted a little off, an unknown fear had flickered across her face when their time off in Denmark was being cut short.

Benji was waiting for them on the porch of the house, panic written over his face. He didn't waste time looking in the house, no point subjecting his heart to what she had gone through.

Circling the house there was almost nothing to go on until he came across faint footsteps leading away from the home to some soft tire tracks in the distance.

There were only 2 sets of prints, both too big for Ilsa. Lane had a plan in mind for another location. She would be no match for him unconscious and drugged. Luther and Benji hung back letting him decide on what to do next.

The tracks led deep into the mountains. Wasting no time in telling the other two what or where he was going, he began sprinting back to where they had left the car at the medical camp,

‘I’ll get you two as I come past’

----------------------------------------------

A pounding pain pulsed at the back of her head. The first effort in opening her eyes sent a shockwave of pain around her skull. The second she managed to open them she noticed a figure sitting in front of her.

‘Nice of you to finally join me’. The figure chuckled, ‘It took a large amount of drugs to keep you knocked out. I trained you well.’

Lane.

A haggard version of the man she spent 2 years doing every bidding.

‘We’re owed a reunion and a rematch don't we, my dear Ilsa’. He took her face in his hands his callused hands tightening around her jaw, smirking she was putty in his hands.

‘You're not speaking my dear? I thought you'd have plenty to say to me’.

Heading towards the open door he turned at the doorway, ‘I'm gonna give you time to think until that pretty boyfriend of yours figures out where we are. Then I’ll be a man and kill you myself.’

Taking notice of her current predicament, she noted her ankles and wrists were bound tight, sores already forming.

As she was deciding on whether to dislocate her thumb, her wrist snagged on a sharp edge on the back of the chair. All the spy movies loved this cliché and for once she was glad it was happening.

She had to work fast, not knowing when Lane would come back into the hut. Her wrists released themselves from their binding, she immediately worked on releasing her legs fingernails beginning to bleed at the frantic speed at which she was working.

Click.

A loaded gun. The cold metal was placed against her forehead ‘My sweet Ilsa, I always am shown why Atlee chose you. You never disappoint’

Glancing upwards, she met Lane's eyes his gaze cold but joyful. He loved getting a rise out of those who crossed him.

‘I'm glad’

Neither of them moved both poised, when all of a sudden it was like a bullet had been fired and the fight began.

Drawing a knife from her boot, she lunged for Lane whilst grabbing his gun with the other hand. Knocking him backwards from the force of her attack, the gun falling from his grasp.

Swiping her blade aiming for his throat but taking any damage that would occur. The surprise of her attack quickly wore off, Lane began to block her attempts with his own.

A fist collided with her cheek and knocked her back a step. Another landing on her ribs sent an alarming crunch throughout the room.

She folded in on herself, exaggerating her pain from the broken ribs, waiting until he was close enough till she could grab a hold of his arm and use his momentum to flip him over her back.

Before Lane had a chance to react she threw herself on top of him wrapping her hands around his throat and applying all the pressure she could.

He scrambled underneath, fear in his eyes at the strength of her attack, attempting to rip her hands off him. She was squeezing with all her might but her power was in using her thighs to choke. Lane knew her inside and out she didn't want to be too predictable.

She was about to change tactics when a hand in her hair dragged her backwards with such force throwing her against the wall of the hut.

Not taking any time to find out who had joined, she kicked out at her attacker's legs. Swiping their feet, toppling them onto a winded Lane giving her the chance to run for it out the open door.

She had no plan but to run as far away as she could, Ethan was bound to be looking for her now. How far she would get she didn’t know, the pounding in her head was beginning to grow and the broken ribs were stealing her ability to breathe.

The sound of a twig snapping alerted her to someone coming up behind her, the drugs were making it harder and harder for her to react. Her body was now just running on pure fear to keep herself alive long enough for Ethan to find her.

Her new companion spun her around, her arms subconsciously wrapped themselves around her stomach, revealing their identity.

‘Trevligt att se dig igen. Du kommer inte bli lika lätt den här gången’.

Viktor. The bone doctor.

He had a talent for evading death. She wanted to either run or fight back but her limbs had suddenly become heavy. All she could do was watch Viktor as he got a firm grip on her arm and he plunged her own knife deep into her shoulder.

‘Karma är en jävel, eller hur? det gör väl ont ?’

All she could do was keep her body upright as he smirked at the blood pooling on her shoulder and grabbed the handle twisting the blade deeper. Blinding pain took over her body as she felt the blade twist deeper, she was not sure how much longer she could hold on.

‘ILSA !!!’, when did Ethan get here? She could barely see his figure moving towards her as her vision began to swim and her body felt like a lead weight as she fell to the ground protecting her stomach.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Pulling up over the top of the mountain, chaos and horror awaited him. Ilsa writhed in the grip of Viktor, his vicelike grip being the only thing that was keeping her upright. She wasnt fighting back, her arms hung loosely at her sides, there was no recognition of her knowing he was there her eyes glassy and unfocused.

The powerful, badass spy he normally knew was not the one he was currently running towards. A breath hair away from reaching Ilsa, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she dropped to the ground her body curling in on itself. Viktor let go as if she was a discarded ragdoll he no longer wanted to torture.

Resisting running to her side immediately, he focused on Viktor. He wasnt going to let him off lightly this time. He was going to make sure he was dead this time, and let one shot from his gun hit the centre of Viktor's heart dropping the swede instantly.

He didn't want to fight the man, it wasnt worth the risk of getting injured fighting a man double his height. Somehow Lane had slipped away again. Hopefully, for good, Ilsa was on the brink of death and he’d mentally manipulated Ethan, all everything he set out to achieve

The helicopter blades could be heard coming over the mountain top, Benji had mentioned as they drove that Julia was working at the medical camp, he must have sent a call for help as they reached the scene.

He wasn't gonna let go of Ilsa until they pried her out of his hands. Her body felt like glass in his hands, the blood flowing out of the knife wound wasn’t slowing her face getting paler as the seconds went on.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Looking at Ilsa’s results, something was wrong. Ilsa was above peak physical condition, nothing should show up abnormal. All standard tests, which included a pregnancy test for any female regardless, had been run and she should pass all.

Shit.

Her hCG levels were elevated.

Ilsa was pregnant. Ilsa was expecting Ethan's baby.

She was 3 months pregnant. This would explain why Ilsa's body fought them when she was brought in, her body was protecting the baby.

Grabbing the abdominal ultrasound she wondered if Ethan knew. Ilsa had broken down her walls around him but was this a wall that either had discussed? Ethan hadn’t mentioned anything when they rescued Ilsa and neither of the boys had shown signs of knowing.

Running the ultrasound over Ilsa’s stomach the relieving sound of the baby's heartbeat filled the small tent. Well, she hoped it was relieving, hell did Ilsa know herself?

She suspected she did from the Brit cradling her stomach as she drifted in and out of consciousness during the flight. The heartbeat was steady, the baby was safe and healthy which was lucky considering what Ilsa had been through in the last 24 hours.

The radio attached to her hip crackled to life announcing the helicopter making its way back with the rest of the team. They had to leave them behind to make room for them to work on Ilsa. Luther had to hold onto a struggling Ethan, who had fought with all his might to come with them.

She had about 5 minutes before they would get back to the tent, giving her enough time to pack any baby-related items away. She figured Ilsa needed to be the one to tell Ethan herself.

As she was busying herself with tidying, the heart rate of the British agent signalled she was beginning to ruse. Eyes flickered open to meet hers, pain whimpers followed as she came to.

With a hand on her none injured shoulder, she spoke softly ‘Ilsa, hey it's ok. It's Julia, you're in the med camp. You're injured from the kidnapping and fight, Ethan and the team are safe and are on their way.’

Once the meaning of her words sunk in, Ilsa began to calm. ‘ I, I…’

‘Don't push yourself, save your voice for Ethan’, striking blue eyes travelled along the spy’s own body taking note of the injuries and finally landing on her stomach.

Knowing the question she was thinking, she answered for her,

‘The baby is fine. You're about 12 weeks, I’ve not put it in your notes and told the team to not tell the others-’ Ilsa then met her eyes ‘- I figured you'd want to tell them’.

Hearing the helicopter land in the distance, she put the last piece of equipment away before turning back to Ilsa.

‘Whatever you decide to do, I'm here. Whatever is running through your head, ignore it, Ethan will be happy whatever you decide. He loves you and will support you through every step.’

Ilsa spoke for the first time since waking ‘Than- thank you, Julia. I want Ethan’

Returning the smile, she placed a gentle kiss on her friend's hairline ‘He’s arriving at the camp now, he’ll be here any minute’ before making her way out of the tent.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The helicopter hadn’t even turned its blades off before he was barreling out of it tearing along the path to the med tent.

Finding the main tent he bumped into Eric who was making his way out, grasping his arm as he passed ‘ It was touch and go, we did lose her once but she's ok. She’s asking for you.

She seemed at peace lying on the small hospital bed, monitors surrounding her, a rhythmic beeping sound. The sound reaffirms Eric's words, but he needed to see for himself.

A black eye and a bandage going from her eyebrow to the hairline adorned the left side of her face. A blanket was drawn up to mid chest leaving her shoulders bare showing the thick bandaging adorning where the knife had been mere hours ago.

Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn't sleeping, she wouldn't until they were back in a safehouse. Reaching her side, he resisted reaching out; he didn't know what had happened between her and Lane.

As if she could read his mind, ‘It's ok, Ethan. I need you please’.

Avoiding the painful side of her face, he cupped her cheek in his hand and placed a gentle kiss on her lips which she faintly reciprocated.

His lips rested on hers as he placed his forehead tenderly against hers. Neither spoke for a while both basking in each other's touch.

The warmth of her skin under his, reminded him she was here. She was back with him. The warmth reminded him how close he had been to losing her up on the mountains.

Blue eyes met his, saying all the words she needed to say to put his mind at rest. That she was back with him and not to beat himself up.

Though the comfort in her eyes turned to concern, ‘Ethan, I. There’s something. I have something I need to tell you ’. There was an intense look on her face as if her thoughts were fighting with each other

He wasn’t sure what was happening. Since getting together both of them had worked together on communication with each other, good or bad.

Ilsa gazed off into the distance seemingly afraid to meet his eye contact. ‘ I was going to tell you back in Denmark but I didn’t want you knowing and risking Lane knowing too. I just need to know that whatever happens, you’ll stay here. Please don’t run as I’m just as scared as you.’

He kept quiet, instead reaching out to hold her hands stilling them from the anxiously fidgeting.

‘I. Ive been noticing symptoms for the last few weeks that i was putting down to the back to back missions, hoping that avoidingg them would make them go away. Ethan. Ive been late for the last few weeks. Ive been tired, hungry and nauseated all the time’, she finally looked back at him letting the words sink in.

He couldnt believe what she was telling him. His mind was numb, he had never thought about this step in his life. Neither of them had so it was inevitable the way they messed around.

The fear of his reaction was scaring her,‘Ethan please say something’.

He seemed lost in his head before that classic Ethan smile adorned his face ‘You’re… pregnant ? We’re having a baby ?’. He seemed to start vibrating with excitement as she guided his hand to rest on her stomach.

"We're having a baby Ethan. We’re becoming parents’

His other hand came to rest under her chin tilting her face towards him, keeping his other resting on her nonexistent bump ‘ I love you. I love you. Whatever you decide to do next I will support you every step of the way. I never thought I’d become a father, but I am so excited to take this path with you’

The emotions were too much to answer him so she pulled him to bring his lips to hers communcting her feelings to him. She was scared of what was to come in the coming months as she stepped into the world of motherhood but she knew that Ethan would be by her side every step of the way.

Swedish translation- nice to see you again. You won't be getting off as easy this time

“Karma is a bitch, isn't it. That hurts, doesn't it?

@radical-sky @izzypuppybutt @justabigassnerd

[elialys]

Peter, who sat down a while ago on one of the small chairs, trying to make himself as unobtrusive as he could, watches as Olivia goes back to her roaming, much more slowly this time. Her whole demeanor changes within a minute, as if she’s finally allowing her anger to simmer down now that Walter is out of sight. After grabbing that same, dusty doll for the third time, studying it intently for long seconds, she puts it down again. Her hand goes up to her face, next, pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, and Peter almost feels the energy draining out of her, her shoulders slumping, hunching slightly inward. It’s as if the weight of that responsibility is crushing her all over again, without her anger to latch onto. His urge to get up and walk to her is strong, fighting against his most intrinsic instincts. He knows he can’t help, not in a way that matters, but it causes him something close to physical pain, watching her beating herself up like that without being able to give her some comfort. He remains seated instead, uncomfortably so, because there is no way in hell she will allow him to approach her right now, not as she stands. “Can I offer some unsolicited advice?” he does ask after a long minute, keeping his voice low, just in case she’s forgotten he’s here. Given her lack of reaction, she was aware of his presence. She drops her hand, which comes down to her hip as she straightens up, glancing at him. She doesn’t even bother with a spoken answer, giving him a tired shrug instead. “Get some rest,” he tells her, seriously. When she scoffs, as he knew she would, he insists. “I know you didn’t sleep any more than I did last night, so you’ve been up for almost two whole days. Whatever he’s hoping for you to see, I’m pretty sure sleep deprivation can’t be helping.” This is the longest she’s looked at him since last night, in New York, when they first got to the building. With every second she spends with her eyes locked with his, he senses her turmoil increasing, not just in the way her body has started to sway, almost imperceptibly, one of her most glaring telltales. Her face is slowly constricting, too, the look in her eyes becoming anxious. Just as Peter is about to throw caution to the wind and go to her, offer her that comfort they both know she won’t take yet needs, Olivia abruptly puts an end to their eye contact, turning her upper body away from him, her finger briefly going up to her lips.

It's a fact that I love writing body language. It's also a fact that I will probably always love writing Olivia's body language the most. And I 150% thank Anna for the way she played her, because it's magic.

[sequinsmile-x]

I'll Go Anywhere With You

Whilst Emily and Aaron are choosing where to go on vacation, one of the suggestions leads her to reveal a part of her past she's never shared with him before.

-x-

Hi friends

Not really sure where this came from! It's been a while since I wrote something Demonology related, so here is some Sunday evening hurt/comfort for you <3

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Discussion of abortion

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

"'I am very fond of Charles Dickens,' Matilda said. ''He makes me laugh a lot. Especially Mr Pickwick.'

At that moment the bell in the corridor sounded for the end of class." 

Emily turns to look at Jack as she finishes reading, smiling at the sight of the mostly asleep boy, his head against her shoulder as his eyes drooped. She closes the book and places it on his nightstand before extracting herself from next to him, guiding him to lie down as she tucks his covers around him. 

“One more chapter,” he protests, his words slurring together, and she smiles as she sits on the edge of the bed, pushing his unruly hair from his face. 

“Tomorrow I promise, sweet boy,” she says, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, “You get some sleep.” 

He hums, any further complaints lost as the pull of sleep wins out, “Love you, Em’ly.” 

She feels her smile shake slightly, the force of her love for this little boy still overwhelming even now, almost a year on from her getting together with Aaron. Sometimes it felt like she had to pinch herself to ensure she wasn’t dreaming when she thought about it too much. The simplicity, and the pure joy she found in the day-to-day, something she was sure she’d never get to experience. 

“Love you too, Jack,” she says, leaning down to kiss his forehead again, “Daddy and I are just down the hall if you need us, okay?” 

He nods, his arms wrapping tighter around his favourite stuffed animal, a dinosaur she’d bought him back when she thought she’d have to win his affection, which Aaron had always told her was unnecessary. Jack loved her just as much as he did, the family she’d always yearned for right in front of her in plain sight. 

She waits until he falls asleep and she sneaks out of his room, leaving the door slightly ajar in case he needs them. Nightmares were a common thing in their household, and they weren’t just limited to Jack. All three of them were prone to their monsters sneaking out of the shadows at night.

She walks down the hallway to the kitchen and she leans against the doorway, her lips pressed together as she suppresses a smile at the sight of Aaron leaning down to put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, allowing her to enjoy the sight of his forearms as the muscles rippled underneath. He turns to look at her, and he raises his eyebrow at her as he closes the door to the dishwasher, the last of the dishes loaded into it. 

“As always, your timing is impeccable,” he says wryly, and she rolls her eyes at him as she crosses the kitchen.

“Your son wanted me to read to him,” she explains, wrapping her arms around his neck, her eyes sparkling as they meet his. He bands his arms around her back, pulling her closer as he stamps a kiss against her lips, “You and I both know I can’t say no to him.” 

He chuckles, kissing her again, “So does he, thats why he always asks for you to do bedtime.” 

It still made him smile when he thought of how nervous Emily was when they first told Jack they were together, nerves that had reignited just a few months ago when they discussed her moving in. He would tell her as many times as she needed to hear, he’d spend the rest of their lives reassuring her, that she was their favourite person. That, if he was honest, that had been the case long before their first kiss. 

Emily smiles and rests her head against his shoulder, settling into his embrace for a moment. She looks around the kitchen and spots Aaron’s laptop on the counter, the screen bright with the internet browser open, and she smirks into the material of his shirt.

“Honey,” she starts, pulling back to look at him, desperate to see the reaction she knew she’d elicit, “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t mind you watching porn, but please don’t do it in the kitchen.”

He sighs and shakes his head, his lips pressed together as he fights a smile whilst she laughs at her own joke, “Very funny.” 

“I thought so,” she replies, playing with his hair, her nails blunt against his scalp. 

“It’s not porn,” he replies, rolling his eyes at her, “I was looking at places we could go on our vacation.”

It had been her idea. They both had so many vacation days to use they’d been told by Strauss that they had to take them, which, Emily thought, was probably the nicest thing the woman had ever done. Whilst she’d initially been irritated at the thought of forced time off, she was now looking forward to it. In the almost year she’d been with Aaron they’d never gone anywhere just the two of them, never had a week of uninterrupted time together, and now it was a possibility it was all she wanted. Some time with him away from their day-to-day lives, time to just exist with the man she loves. 

They decided to go away for their anniversary, and as soon as she realised Aaron had only ever been abroad for work-related things, she suggested they find somewhere in Europe. She’d left it up to him since she’d been, and lived, everywhere, and was excited to be his tour guide, to see somewhere she’d been before through his eyes. 

“Oh, let me have a look” she says, removing herself from his embrace but linking their fingers together, tugging him towards the laptop. She smiles to herself as he crowds her against the counter, his chest against her back and his chin on her shoulder as she unlocks the, now on standby, laptop. Her breath catches in her chest, trapped in a way that is painful as she fails to exhale, when she sees where he’s been looking at, visuals of tourist attractions she’d always done her best to avoid as a teenager bringing back memories that never seemed to get less painful. She’d never told him about what had happened there, had never found the right time to,  and she clears her throat, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake, “You want to go to Rome?” 

“Well, not necessarily I was just looking…” He drifts off as he feels her go tense in his arms, the levity that had existed in her frame just moments ago long gone, her shoulders tight against his chest, “Sweetheart, is something wrong?” 

She swallows thickly and shakes her head, “No, nothing is wrong. Rome is beautiful,” she replies. 

She’s furious at herself for the effect this all still seemingly had on her, how what had happened one summer a whole lifetime ago could still create a reaction. She’s also furious at him, even though she knows it's unwarranted. She’s not mad because of where he’s been researching, well aware that the city was a popular place to go, but because he has snuck under her walls. Burrowing his way through barricades she’d built long before she’d ever met him. She knows if it was anyone else, if any other person other than him, suggested going there she’d brush them off. Come up with a lie about the time of year and crowds as she effortlessly suggested somewhere else. But with him, it was impossible, his love for her a blessing and a curse all at once. She sighs as he turns her in his embrace, one palm on her back and the other on the laptop as he closes it. 

“Em, what’s wrong?” He asks, tucking hair behind her ear, his touch delicate against her cheek. He feels concern bubble in his gut, her reluctance to talk about whatever was going on a flash of the past that he hadn’t expected to see again. It had been months since they’d hid anything they felt from each other. An argument about him harbouring guilt over her getting injured on a case that had led to a mutual agreement that they’d always let each other know how they were feeling, even if it was as simple as asking for space whilst they worked through something alone. He points over his shoulder towards the home office, “Do you want me to give you some-”

“No,” she says, holding him tighter, the thought of being alone worse than anything else, “No, I…” she drifts off, the words alluding her as she shakes her head at herself. She blows out a shaky breath and squeezes his hand. She knows she doesn’t have to tell him, that she doesn’t owe him this part of her past that was hers and hers alone, but she wants to. Wants to share this part of herself that so few people knew about, “Can we go sit down?” 

“Of course,” he says, his hand tight around hers as he leads her to the living room, the journey longer than it had ever felt, the silence around them thick and cloying as they settle next to each other on the couch. She tucks her legs up under herself and leans against the back of the couch, her focus on their linked hands as she avoids his eye contact, “Em-”

“I…” she cuts him off and shakes her head at herself, “I don’t even know where to start.” 

He squeezes her hand and uses the one not linked with hers to hook a finger under her chin to make their eyes meet. The look in her eyes makes him want to pull her into a hug, to go find whatever, or whoever, had made her feel like this and tear it apart until she feels better. But he doesn’t. He knows her well enough to understand she wouldn’t want that, that she didn’t need it. She was capable of fighting her own battles, something she’d proven time and time again. What she needed was his support. For him to sit here and listen, and to stand by her side afterwards. 

“Wherever feels right,” he says, running his thumb back and forth over her jawline, “And take all the time you need.” 

She smiles sadly and nods, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment, “You know, I really wish you had been watching porn,” she jokes, and he chuckles lightly, squeezing her hand as he does so and she does it back as her smile fades, “I lived in Rome when I was 15 for about 6 months. You remember that case a few years ago, with my friend Matthew?” 

He sighs, berating himself internally for not thinking about it. He’d been so desperate to avoid Paris, to make sure he didn’t suggest the place she’d gone when she was dead to almost everyone except him, that he hadn’t even thought of the case that had led to him calling The Vatican. She watches his eyes go wide, how the few pieces of the puzzle he already had slip into place. She squeezes his hand to stop him from interrupting, an apology she doesn’t need on the tip of his tongue as he opens his mouth. 

“Honey, it’s fine. So much has happened since that case and you weren’t to know,” she smiles tightly at him, “Besides, if that was it, if it was just because it’s where I met him, I wouldn’t…” she drifts off again and clears her throat, blowing out a breath before she carries on, ready to just say it, to rip off the bandaid, “I got pregnant that summer in Rome.” 

Whatever Aaron had been expecting her to say, it hadn’t been that. He makes sure he doesn’t react, the need to defend her, to protect her from her past, rising in his chest again as all he does is squeeze her hand. 

“I had no friends, and god I just wanted someone to like me, to fit in for once, and…I ended up pregnant,” She looks down at their joint hands again, at how their fingers seemed to fit perfectly together, as if they were made for each other, “It was terrifying and awful and I didn’t know what to do. Matthew helped me. He found a doctor and held my hand as I confirmed I wanted an abortion,” she smiles sadly as she thinks of it. At the time she’d known how young they were, but looking back on it had always made it so much clearer, her heart aching for her younger self who had always looked for love in the wrong places. Something she knows continued right up until she fell in love with Aaron, “He waited out in the hall when the doctor gave me the medication, so I was alone then.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, finally pulling her into a hug, no longer able to stop himself. She presses her face into his chest and curls into his lap. He runs his hand up and down her back as he kisses her forehead, “Was Matthew…”

“No,” she replies, pulling back to look at him, “He wasn’t the father, but he helped me. It’s why I was so desperate to know what happened to him because I couldn’t save him like he saved me.” 

He cups her face, running his thumb up over her cheekbone, “You got him justice, Em. That’s what’s important.” 

She nods, wishing she could believe it, the way she was sure she had let Matthew down, that she could have done more, one of the many things that kept her up at night sometimes. A parade of her past failures marching past her as sleep evaded her, her only solace the warmth of Aaron’s arm over her waist. 

“John was the father,” she says, pressing her lips together tightly, “He yelled at me when I told him I was pregnant. As if it was any less his fault than it was mine.” 

“John?” He asks, furrowing his brow, his grip on her tightening, “The guy we rescued?” He asks and she nods. He clenches his teeth and shakes his head, “If I’d have known that I would have let that priest have 5 more minutes with him.” 

It makes her laugh, something she wouldn’t have thought was ever possible when she was talking or thinking about this, and she shakes her head at him, her hand on his cheek as she kisses him quickly. 

“No you wouldn’t have, you’re too good a man for that,” she says, smiling softly, “It’s one of the many reasons I love you,” she pulls back to put a bit more space between them. “I don’t regret it, it was the right decision for me, but I wish it never happened. And it’s kind of made being there difficult,” she says, thinking of when she’d returned in her mid-20s, how she’d been surprised by how she’d been hit by emotions she’d spent a decade pretending didn’t exist. “I don’t look at the Spanish Steps and think of how beautiful they are, I think of where I sat when I had a positive pregnancy test at the bottom of my backpack, in a trance as I wondered about what the hell I was going to do. I don’t think of the Colosseum and its history, but of the tour I went on with my school whilst I had cramps so bad from the medication I’d taken that I thought I was going to pass out. It’s just…not a place with memories for me that I want to revisit.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she assures him, pushing some of his hair from his forehead, “You didn’t know. I never really knew how to tell you,” she shrugs, “I guess I was worried you’d judge me for it, which is ridiculous when I think about the other stuff you know about me.” 

He pulls her back into a hug, letting her settle against him, the weight of her in his embrace one of the most comforting things he’d ever experienced, “I’d never judge you for anything. I hope you know that.” 

She nods and turns her head to kiss his shoulder, “I know, I promise. It’s just never been easy to talk about.” 

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter, “You’re the bravest person I know, Em,” he says, smiling at her when she tilts her head to look at him, a wry smile spreading over her face. 

“Even braver than Derek?”

He nods, “It’s one thing to burst through doors, sweetheart,” he says, purposely minimising Derek’s actions at work to make her smile get wider, “But it’s another thing entirely to do what you know is right, even when it’s hard.” 

She feels love for him burst in her chest and she pulls him in for a kiss, holding him in place with her hand on his cheek. She rests her forehead against his, “I have a suggestion on where we could go instead,” she says, purposely changing the subject, desperate for some relief from the sadness that had swept over her, and he smiles encouragingly at her as she carries on, “Barcelona.” 

He can’t control the shiver that the way she says Barcelona causes, the slight accent enough to make him hold her even tighter. He allows himself to picture it. Her skin a golden colour under the Spanish sun, a glass of sangria in her hand. The engagement ring he’d bought weeks ago that was burning a hole in his briefcase on her finger from when he’d propose to her on the beach.

“Interesting,” he says, stamping another kiss against her lips, “I think I would enjoy Spain. I’d enjoy anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

She hums, “It’s beautiful,” she says, running her fingers through his hair again, “And…the beaches are gorgeous. It means I’ll be able to wear that bikini you like so much.” 

His eyes go wide and he kisses her once more, a fierce press of his lips against hers before he shifts her out of his lap and gets off the couch, already walking towards the kitchen as he replies. 

“I’ll book the flights.” 

-x-

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Music made me love you, chapter 13

"What if nobody shows up?" Cora was pacing around in her small living room.

"Can you please stop? You are making me nervous." Sorcha moaned. "Your book is selling very well. Especially since you managed to get it into your local supermarket. People will show up, and if they do not. Well, then you will have a free evening."

Cora stopped pacing. "You are right. And the book is selling, so I should be a bit more confident."

"Making sure your book is sold in Supermarkets was a very smart decision."

"Right. Time to go, I cannot be late for my own Meet & Greet, even though nobody will show up."

"Stop being this negative." Sorcha poked her side. "Do you have enough pencils with you?"

Cora held up a big pencil case. "I think this must do." she chuckled.

+++

Cora looked around the corner, the room was filled with people. It scared her, there were more people than she could have hoped for. Where did they all come from. A local bookshop had arranged this evening. There was not much room left in the shop. All those people where here for her and she had to pinch herself. How was this possible? She shivered.

"Nervous." The shop owner asked.

"I was not expecting this many people." Cora said shaky.

"Do not worry, they loved your book, that is why they are here. You will not disappoint them; I am sure of that. We will start with a short introduction and question round, and then they will be able to come up, so you can sign their book." She walked into the shop and the crowd got quiet.

Cora nodded, while wringing her hands. She saw Sorcha sitting close to the place she would sit. That gave her some reassurance.

"And now, let us welcome Miss Levinson."

This was her que, she quickly walked towards the small podium. She tried to look over the people, so she would not have to make eye contact.

"Where did you get your inspiration from?" one of the audience members asked.

Cora smiled at the woman who asked the question. "That is hard to say, to be honest. The idea popped into my head, and I decided one day to start writing."

"Did you ever hit writers block?" Another audience member asked.

Cora chuckled. "Many times, to be honest. There was one thing that helped me out of it. When I open my window, I can hear the most beautiful piano music. The moment I hit a writer’s block, and the piano player is blessing the streets with the wonderful music, my writers block melts like snow in the sun."

"I think you all would love to have a signed copy of the book you are holding. Please form a line, so miss Levinson can sign them all." The bookshop owner said, once there were no more questions.

+++

Robert had to rush to get to Rosamund on time.

"I almost thought you would not come." Rosamund said, while opening the door for him. "We have to eat a bit quicker, otherwise we will miss the meet & greet."

"Do we really need to go?" Robert complained.

"Yes, we do. I want to go, and you promised to come with me."

"Why is Marmaduke not coming with you?"

"I have not read the book, Rosamund asked you, and you agreed." Marmaduke said, while Robert walked into the dining room.

Robert sighed, they were teaming up against him, it was useless to argue. He felt kicked around as always. It did not matter, being here in London or at Downton. Recently other people decided how his live was run and he was getting fed up with it.

+++

"What a cute bookshop this is." Rosamund said, while they looked at the building.

Robert could see it was busy inside the shop, and he was regretting coming with Rosamund, more and more. He should be in his own home playing the piano. It had now been weeks since he last played, and he properly missed it. He should find a way to get back here more often, without having to meet up with Rosamund and Marmaduke. He loved his sister and brother-in-law, but he needed his own life.

They were on the late sight and could barely find a place inside the shop. Rosamund managed to get a spot where they could see the small podium. Robert stood behind her, he was taller than his sister. Because they were late, it did not take long before the bookstore owner announced that Miss. Levinson would come on stage. Robert almost gasped audibly when he saw who stepped onto the podium.

He blinked a couple of times. But no, he was seeing it correctly. That was Cora. Cora was C. Levinson. Of course she was, how could he not have noticed that. Especially since she introduced herself to Rosamund recently as Cora Levinson. He had not made the connection, but clearly Rosamund did. That is why she was insisting on them coming here.

"I told you it would be worth it." Rosamund said, when the questions where finished and they lined up.

Robert was shaken by Cora's words. Was she referring to his music? Should he tell her that he played the piano. What if it was not his music, that made her come over her writer’s block. What if he made a fool out of himself by assuming that.

Slowly they made their way to the table where Cora was signing the books. He was how she made time for everybody and truly listened. In each book she wrote something personal. What a wonderful woman she was, he thought. He felt nervous the closer they came. How was he going to explain being here.

Finally, it was their time, Rosamund handed Cora her book. When Cora looked up, Robert saw that she recognized her.

"Hello Rosamund." She said. "What a surprise seeing you here."

As she had done with everybody, she fully focused on the person in front of her. She had not seen him yet, should he leave? He could quickly leave without her noticing it. He felt embarrassed being here, it felt like he was stalking her. He had that feeling earlier, when he kept running into her in the supermarket and on the street. But she did know by now that he had a home here, so it was less stalking. Was it? His change of making an escape was gone, the noticed that Rosamund pointed towards him.

Cora looked in his direction and her face lit up when she spotted him. "Robert." She exclaimed.

"Hi." He answered sheepishly.

"I did not know you read my book."

"I did not know it was written by you." He answered.

"Let me sign your copy." Cora said, while extending her hand.

Robert coloured. "I forgot to bring mine." He felt stupid, how could he forget to bring the book.

"We have some more copies for sale." The bookstore owner said, while handing him a new one.

Robert gave the book to Cora with still that sheepish smile on his face. Cora touched his hand, while taking the book from him. He felt his cheeks get more colour. She started writing, but Robert could not see what she wrote. Quickly Cora closed the book and handed it back to him. "You should read that at home." She winked.

"We should walk on, there are more people waiting to get their book signed." Rosamund took his arm and pulled him away. Robert kept his eyes on Cora, who clearly had trouble focussing on the new people in front of her.

"You knew it was Cora who wrote that book?" He said, while they walked to the front of the store.

Rosamund smiled. "I made the connection the first time I met Cora. She introduced herself and I recognized her last name. It surprised me that you had not said anything about it. Later it dawned on me that you had no clue."

"Thank you for dragging me here."

"It was hard to get you here, I was scared this whole evening that you would sneak out the shop."

Robert blushed again; his sister knew him all too well. In the corner of his eye, he saw Sorcha walking towards them.

"Good to see you again Robert."

"Likewise. I do not think you have met my sister. This is Rosamund. Rosamund this is Sorcha and friend of Cora."

"Nice meeting you." Sorcha said polite. "Cora is asking if you want to get something to drink once she is finished." Sorcha looked at Rosamund. "You are invited too."

Robert looked at Rosamund to see if she would like to stay or preferred going home.

"That would be nice, thank you for the invitation. Should we wait here?"

"Cora mentioned the white cross. You two could get there already and secure us a table or booth?"

"Sound as a perfect plan. We will do that." Rosamund answered.

Robert pressed the book against his side, while he followed Rosamund outside. He glanced one more time at Cora, who was still chatting with the people that wanted a signature of her. There were only a couple left. He figured it would not take very long for her to come to the pub. He only hoped that their visit to Kew Gardens tomorrow would still stand.