#...i spent an hour writing this out instead of FINISHING MY FIC >:/

[dsntwrk]

help me i've gotten so deep into the steddie rabbit hole i haven't gotten this stuck on something since destiel

this really isn't good for my health

THESE ARE THE FICS THAT I SUBSCRIBED TO / LIKED READING (I'VE BASICALLY READ 1/5 WORTH OF STEDDIE FICS COMPARED TO DESTIEL FICS - I GOT INTO DESTIEL 4 YRS AGO, I ONLY STARTED READING STEDDIE FICS SOME TIME LAST MONTH WTF)

tbf, i have taken breaks from destiel to read other fandoms/fics so, ig the timing works out? if you think about it?

[mkstrigidae]

Apparently today's solution for APWH writer's block was taking Bal for a 4 mile walk around an alligator infested lake, drinking six cups of tea, and eating a truly astonishing amount of challah before sitting down to put myself through the emotional wringer with yet again more tea

[reidmania]

Hey😁 you said request were open and i was wondering you could write a spencer reid fic where him and the reader get into a petty argument or something and he says something a little mean and has to grovel to the reader because she’s upset? I love your work by the way and you can add or take away whatever you want👍😊

not so funny | spencer reid

summary; after a rough day, Spencer accidentally takes his frustration out on you leading to a lot of guilt and grovelling.

warnings; spencer is mean, fem reader, he calls reader a bitch but he makes up for it, arguments, hurt x comfort, crying, it ends up being pretty cute.

an; ITS MY BIRTHDAY GUYS!!!!

“Come on spencer” You almost groaned as your voice itched with irritation, your hands flew up before dropping by your side. You were stood in the kitchen, trying to make dinner but the pasta on the stove and vegetables half cut on the counter were long forgotten.

Spencer spluttered, “You aren’t listening to me!” He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face dragging them down over his eyes as he turned his body away from you to the side. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes — this entire argument was pointless.

It started all because Spencer had come home after a bad day and was slightly snappy with you, just briefly and when you made a joke about it — he didn’t seem to take it as a joke.

“It was a joke — God” You sigh, turning back to the vegetables you were dicing before he walked in the door after work, but honestly with the annoyance bubbling in your chest you doubted you should be responsible for a knife right now.

His eyes widened, “But it’s not funny! You were just being a bitch” He mutters out, shaking his head before the realisation of his words fell on him the same time they fell on you.

Your entire face fell. Never had Spencer called you anything like that — he had commented repeatedly how much it pissed him off when peoples partners called them names like that. He had never been anything other than gentle with you.

He said your name as his eyes fell on your face. Before he could even open his mouth to apologise you were pushing past him to walk away. His hands reached out to grab ahold of your wrist as he repeated your name but you only flung his arm away from yours and you continued walking to the bedroom.

Spencer stood with his head in his hands as he knew better than to follow you right now. All the anger he had felt from the day that had built up slipped away when he saw the look on your face. — Hurt. He hurt you all because he had a crappy day.

He heard the bedroom door slam shut causing his shoulders to flinch slightly. He wanted nothing more than to follow you and spend the rest of the night apologising to you, he didn’t think there was anything he could do to express how sorry he was.

But he knew better than that. He knew it would just annoy you more if he walked in there right now and that was the last thing he wanted.

Instead he spent the next hour in the kitchen finishing the dinner you had started making — He knew wouldn’t taste nearly half as good as it would if you made it, his cooking skills no where near as good but he found himself doing it anyways.

He relished in the slight distraction but it only did so much as his mind continued travelling to you and the words that had left his mouth. He didn’t mean them. You weren’t a bitch. You were nothing of the sorts and the fact that he had even let that slip sent guilt coursing through his veins.

The day had been nothing but shit. To say the least. Everything was going wrong and Spencer couldn’t shake the annoyance. It didn’t help that right before leaving he had gotten into an argument with Morgan about something on a past case.

He didn’t mean to take his bad day out on you, he never did.

He finished the dinner, but the appetite he once had disappeared as it replaced the spot in his stomach with nothing but guilt. His feet trailed towards the door of your shared bedroom.

Every step was filled with dread as his mind traveled to every possibility. His heart shattered into a thousand little pieces as he heard your soft hiccup through the door.

“Honey?” He brought his hand up to knock on the door gently with his knuckles. His tone was the softest he had used his day — completely the opposite to what it had been the last time he spoke to you.

You didn’t reply but you went quiet. Probably trying to hide the fact you were crying. That made him feel worse — he deserved to feel worse. He knew that.

“Dinner is ready.. Are you hungry” He asked, not pushing his way through the door he was talking to you through. There was a pause on the other side of the door.

You, were curled up on the middle of your bed. Spencer’s hoodie was tugged up over your knees as they pulled to your chest. Your face was blotchy and scarred by the soft tears that stained your cheeks.

You hadn’t been able to shake Spencer’s words no matter how much you tried. You knew he was angry and had a bad day but you couldn’t help but be beyond mad — unfortunately when you are mad it ended in tears.

You wiped the tears from your face as if that would have any effect on the sound of your voice. “No.” You replied, trying to put on the most secure voice you could muster up but it wavered none the less and stayed quiet.

Your heart pounded as you closed in on yourself. “Can I come in?” He asked.

You wanted to say no, push him away and tell him to go fuck yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, a small part of you aching for his comfort no matter how mad you were, you wanted to hear him apologise, even if you failed to believe it.

“Okay.” Your voice was small.

The door was being pushed open gently a moment after and you avoided meeting Spencer’s gaze, keeping your gaze fixated on the plush of the crisp white sheets that covered the bed.

If you did look at him, you would’ve seen his heart break all in his features at the sight of your tear stained face. His feet pattered towards you as he sat down on the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away from you, not wanting to push any boundaries.

“Im sorry” He said quietly, it sounded genuine and it burnt a way into your chest. You never brought your eyes to meet his as your mind failed to comprehend a response. You didn’t have a whole lot to say.

So instead, you just nod.

He frowns. “I am really - Im so sorry.” He said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, eyes trailing over your face, uncomfortable silence washing over the room as he tried to figure out what to say next. “I had a shit day — which isn’t an excuse. I should’ve never called you that. I shouldn’t have taken my bad day out on you” He muttered.

You nodded curtly. “Okay.” Was all you said in response. There wasn’t a lot you could muster up as despite his apology his words burnt into the back of your mind, leaving a engravememt on your brain.

He frowned deepened. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness and he didn’t expect it. He hurt you and he apologised hated that.

“I love you.” He said softly. Even if you didn’t believe his apology he wanted you to at least believe that he loved you.

You just nodded feeling a lump in your throat as your chest grew impossibly tight. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, holding them close to your chest almost as if to try and numb the burning sensation that made its way through to your ribcage.

You didn’t answer.

“I’ll leave you a plate in the microwave okay?” He muttered after a moment of silence. The silence dawned heavy and cold. You didn’t bother replying as he stood up.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before a soft sigh left his lips. “Im really sorry” He apologised again.

You didn’t see him again that night, you assumed he slept on the couch which made you feel slightly bad but you were so.. hurt.

The argument was stupid. He knew that, he knew it was a joke and any other time it wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, he hated how the one time it did he took it out on you.

The next day you didn’t see Spencer when you woke up, you assumed he went to work which made a puddle of relief fill your stomach as you realised you were able to self indulge in your feelings while he was away.

You missed him.

The door opened at 7:34, a lot later than when Spencer usually arrived home and for a while you were genuinely considering maybe he wasn’t going to come home.

You turned to face him as he stepped into the kitchen where you were, the same positioning the two of you had been in when the argument first arose.

“Hi.” He said softly, placing his car keys on the counter. You looked over him and guilt fell as you he looked a mess.

He pulled his arm from behind his back, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. He chewed at his lip nervously as you didn’t say anything but took the flowers from his hand, looking over them.

Your favourites.

“I know flowers aren’t an apology, thats not why I got them” He said quietly, you remembered a conversation you had with him about hating how guys got their girlfriends flowers as an apology — and he agreed, going on to say that guys should be getting flowers constantly.

You perked up slightly as you furrowed your brows in confusion — if not an apology why now.

“The last ones I got you are browning.” He said, reading your look of confusion. Your lips pursed as you looked over at the vase you always kept the flowers Spencer got you in. They were in fact browning.

He dragged his hand through his hair as he placed a grocery bag on the table, before looking back at you. “You aren’t a bitch, you weren’t acting like a bitch, if anything I was.” He said, taking a few things out of the bag.

Your favourite snacks, your favourite drinks and a small velvet box.

Your heart tightened slightly.

He took a step towards you and you stayed in place, pulling your eyes away from the items on the table. “Im really sorry I ever said that. It was stupid and disgusting of me” He hesitantly brought his hand up to your face.

You tensed slightly but didn’t flinch away, allowing him to push strands of hair behind your ear. “You are gorgeous, inside and out. There isn’t a bitchy bone in your body and Im sorry.” He said gently.

“I am so mad at you” You said, the first proper thing you have said to him in days. He knows it shouldn’t but just hearing you talk made his pulse relax slightly — and then speed up all over again.

“Good.” He said gently, “Thats- Its a good thing. You should be mad.” He said softly, “Id never want it to be a situation where you allowed that.. where it happened often enough for you not to be mad. Be mad, mad is good. Don’t be silent” He said as his thumb brushed gently over your cheek.

You hummed. You knew deep down silent treatment was the worst for Spencer, but honestly last night you had nothing to say. “You can yell at me, scream — hit me if you want” His tone was so gentle. You just scoffed, “Im not going to hit you” You said.

He smiled, “I know.”

“You have a lot of making up to do you know.” You pushed out, trying to ignore the way your face instinctively leant into the warmth of his hand, relishing in the soft roughness of his hands.

He nodded, “I’ll do anything, sweet heart.” He said and his tone held nothing but genuine emotion.

“Okay.” You nodded.

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.. Spence I just said that” You huffed out. A smile lit his lips, he leant down to place a gentle kiss to the top of your head, you tried to hide the smile on your face.

“Okay.” He repeated making you groan but you were smiling nonetheless.

Spencer spent every second apologising for the next two weeks, buying you everything he saw that he thought you would like and going above and beyond until you physically and verbally said that you forgave him.

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

obsessed (superfan! yandere boy x gn!popstar reader)

warnings: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

a/n: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[farmerstarter]

maybe some general seb relationship headcanons if you dont mind? especially prior to it or crushing/early dating. how would he react to the confession? would his friends tease him? etc.

im a little picky w sdv hc blog interpretations and i love yours! theyre so sweet. if this is a lot feel free to just do as much as you'd like 💟

ʚ👾ɞ ˚ · . Crushing

tags: sebastian from sdv x gn! reader

OMG Anon! I am so sorry this is sooooo late. I just finished my 2nd year of college and it was so hectic. But now I have WAY more time to write. Writing this was so fun! if you have any fic requests then feel free to send me an ask! <3 purple divider by @saradika-graphics <3

𐙚⭑ Sebastian couldn’t deny that he, like everyone else in the valley, was curious about the new farmer moving into the overgrown expanse of land to the west of town. He was a bit down on the idea of not having his usual smoking place anymore, but the intrigue easily overpowered it. He was one of the last people to meet you. Sam and Abigail couldn’t stop talking about you. Which was reasonable, nothing ever happens in the valley. The more Sebastian knew about you, the more confused he got. Why move out in the middle of nowhere? Why leave the city for a pile of dirt and a mosquito-infested house? It was weird. For him, at least.

𐙚⭑ You two finally met at night. Sebastian was smoking by the waterfall, and you ambled your way out of the cave with a bag full of copper and coal. The mountains were wisped with fog, cold with dew. Sebastian was sure he was the only living soul out in the open. Much to his surprise, and at the expense of his dignity, he let out the loudest scream he could muster when you decided it was a good idea to sneak up on him to say hello while you were covered in soot and mud. While he was calming himself down and you were washing your face in the lake, you promised not to tell Sam or Abigail about the encounter. Sebastian was very grateful for that. The two of you spent the next hour talking.

𐙚⭑ The next time you met him was when you were discussing building plans with Robin in her house. Robin was just explaining that you needed more wood for your planned chicken coop, and Sebastian just so happened to come out to return his pile of plates to the kitchen. Robin waved him over to introduce him to you. His eyes met yours, and you immediately introduced yourself properly. You gave him a discreet wink when Robin’s back was turned. You deduced that Robin wouldn’t have been too happy to know her son was out at the late hours of the night, smoking his third cigarette in one sitting. Seeing this as an opportunity for her son to get some sunlight, Robin asked Sebastian to accompany you while you got more wood. He didn’t have anything to do; he had finished his module for the week, and he was curious about what his friends were telling him about you. So, he agreed to do it.

���⭑ The two of you decided that Cindersnap Forest would be a good place to chop down some trees. You led the way while Sebastian followed suit, dragging along a wheelbarrow that Robin gave you to make the trip back to the mountains easier. Sebastian spent the day sitting on the makeshift bridge over the river and watching you cut down too many trees for him to count. There were times when you offered to teach him how to wield an axe. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you, so he just shook his head and decided to arrange the logs of wood in the wheelbarrow instead. It was 2 pm when you finally had enough wood for the coop, but neither of you wanted to go back just yet, mostly because it was too hot to walk back, and Sebastian didn’t want to burn off his skin.

𐙚⭑ You and Sebastian went to look at whatever the traveling cart was selling. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the dark-haired man’s eyes widened when he found out the merchant was selling an egg for 500 gold.

𐙚⭑ It would be so cute if you and Sebastian stumbled into the secret woods and that became your little hideaway to hang out when life got demanding for both of you.

𐙚⭑ You definitely fell for him first, but Sebastian fell in love harder. It all started when you invited him, Sam, and Abigail over to eat the many fish dishes you cooked when you finally had a kitchen in your abode. You specifically made sashimi for him since you remembered he mentioned it was his favorite. He was touched. You took the effort to even remember what he said, and that made his heart stutter. (“It tastes just like the ones Linus makes.”) ((Side note: it would be so cute if Sebastian and Linus became friends because Linus would make sashimi for both of them to eat at night by his tent, but I digress.))

𐙚⭑ Your friendship with Sebastian continued to bloom when you found a frog egg in the cave. You immediately ran to Sebastian to show it off. The two of you became parents to a very hungry frog named Blimp.

𐙚⭑ You and Sebastian rode his motorcycle at night when the two of you had nothing to do. He didn’t have an extra helmet yet, so he insisted you wear his helmet instead of him. He wanted you safe.

𐙚⭑ I am a firm believer that Sebastian is the type of person to become loud and talkative when he’s around people he is truly comfortable with. So, the moment you two became friends, Sebastian would invite you to hang out with him and Sam in his room to play Solarian Chronicles. He becomes more animated the longer you play, laughing at Sam’s crappy rolls and your insistence that every small enemy is the true boss in disguise. To both Robin and Demetrius’ surprise, Sebastian spends more time outside compared to the past. The two of you either hang out in the Secret Woods or play the arcade games in the saloon. PICNICS! IN THE SECRET WOODS!!

𐙚⭑ You confessed first, and Sebastian became red in the face in an instant. He couldn’t stop smiling, though. Sam doesn’t let him hear the end of it.

𐙚⭑ On clear nights, you and Sebastian climb up to the roof of his house to stargaze. He loves pointing out constellations to you, showing off what Maru taught him. If he asked nicely enough, his half-sister would let the two of you borrow her telescope.

[enwoso]

CASUAL — leah williamson

wow, it’s a long one. this has admittedly taken me so long to write. i had the idea of this fic at the start of october but for some reason its just took so long to actually finish lol, but anyways as always hope you enjoy🤍

warning: implied smut, mdni 18+

masterlist

"girl where did you end up last night?" your best friend and also flatmate, amelie asked as you sat in your local cafe debriefing from last nights' night out events over a 'morning' coffee — it was more late afternoon — the two of you having very different endings to the night.

you sat swirling the dregs of your coffee around as you tried to find the way to explain, not so much how you didn't end up back at the flat cause you know she's knows that after catching you walking through the front door at nine am this morning in last nights clothes your head hanging from both the severe amount of alcohol you'd consumed last night but also in slight shame.

it was more whose apartment you stayed at you were trying to find the words to tell her about.

"oh y/n. you didn't did you-" amelie began as you nodded as a defeated sigh left your lips. that being all the clarification your best friend needed. ok, it may not be your proudest moment but who are you to deny a sexy, goddess of a women. but you knew this was heading in the direction of your getting another ear full.

"y/n.. what have i told you, you need to cut all ties with leah. you deserve someone who's going to treat you so much better-" amelie reached out grabbing your hands as you were still looking down at your coffee cup, you looked up a little.

you knew she was right, but you couldn't admit that to yourself. there was something about leah she was addicting and no matter how many times you ended up in between her sheets telling yourself it was the last time, it always happened again.

"yeah but-" you began but amelie gave you a stern look as her eyebrows raised as you rolled your eyes, "ok i get the message, i'll put it on my to-do list — cut leah williamson off." you dryly said, knowing it would be easier said than actually done.

"seriously you need too, your acting like a loser-" amelie continued as you opened your mouth to say something about the small insult she'd thrown your way but you were unable to. "you are though, your better than the rumours that people are spitting-"

"how do you-"

"people talk y/n!"

you'd heard the rumours going around the locals plus there'd been some article posted on an instagram post noticing you in leah's car after a match — you being labelled as 'mysterious girl'.

you weren't known to the media, thank god, you were lucky if you had over two hundred followers as if you had anymore than that fans would have an absolute field day with the news.

instead you were just a normal, twenty six year old girl who'd grown up in north london and had the usual nine to five corporate job as well as having a casual relationship with the leah williamson but you kept that under wraps as after all it was just something which was casual.

you'd met through a mutual friend of yours who also happened to be one of leah's teammates. lotte, who you went to school together and you'd stayed somewhat in contact. it always being a pleasant surprise to see her whenever your paths crossed.

you had bumped into her in a coffee shop near hours before you were being pressed up against a club wall by a blonde defender, having had one too many. the two of you had spent the night being overly touchy and flirting, her lips being felt all around your body leaving your skin feeling hot and your head all fuzzy.

"mine or yours?" leah whispered against your ear, as her teeth grazed your earlobe, you having to refrain yourself from whimpering. leah's hands gripping your hips as your were tangled in the ends of her hair.

"yours" you managed to get out, although it was quiet leah hear every letter. her hands reaching up to grab your hand as she dragged you through the club and towards the exit without as much of a bat of an eyelid towards her friends who she was leaving behind.

to both your luck there was a black cab waiting on the side of the road, both of you taking the chance to get in as leah immediately told the driver her address.

leah's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time as her thumb drew little circles absentmindedly, the busy streets of london making it feel like it's taken hours just to get a few minutes up the road.

as you watched out the window there was a cloud of regret you knew you'd feel in the morning but right now that wasn't what you mind wanted. you right now wanted leah.

so as soon as you cross the threshold of her apartment, you were pinned against the wall. the coldness sending a sharp shiver down your spine. "your so gorgeous" leah whispered as her eyes darkened, the sweet innocence of her blue eyes long gone.

inching closer so that your faces were impossibly close, taking one of her hands as it lands on the back of your neck and kisses you. slow but deep.

letting yourself get lost in her lips as it becomes more passionate and searching but then leah leans back a little, realising that you were in the middle of her hallway.

"come with me, baby" she whispers, her accent thick as the pet name rolls off her tongue but laced with love making your head spin even more as she extends her hand for you to grab as she leads you towards her bedroom, pushing the door open with her foot as her other hand laces itself back around you waist pulling you back to being impossibly close to her.

giving her a teasing look as she kisses you again this one more needy and fervent. feeling her hands all around your body nipping and pulling at your skin as you feel the back of you legs on the edge of her bed. a slight push and you back met with softness of her white sheets.

a small moan leaving leah's lips into the kiss as she felt your hands gently squeeze her ass, feeling her smile against your lips knowing that you were having the same affect on her as she was on you. you were both driving each other crazy.

as the kiss grow more sloppy as whines were being strung from both of your lips, your hips mindlessly starting to slowly grind against her. leah moving to kiss your neck leaving small kisses and sucking on your neck that elicited small moans from your lips as your breathing hitches.

leah's kisses to your neck becoming more intense you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second as you hips carried on to move against her. your hands lingering on her back as your nails dug that little deeper, more than likely leaving scratch marks.

"please le-" you moan out softly, needing more.

-

that wasn't the last time you saw the blonde defender, nor the last time you ended up with your limbs tangled between each other.

whenever the other had, had a drink or just when you needed company leah seemed to always be there. you felt like you craved her at all hours of the day. you found your mind sometimes wondering what she may be doing when you weren't by her side.

but you weren't together, it was just a casual thing. is what you found you were telling yourself.

but with each weekend that passed you found yourself spending them with leah more and more often. which is exactly what had happened this weekend.

leah had called you, she never calls you only ever texts. strange is what you thought when you saw her caller id on the screen a small smile slipping onto your lips as you pressed accept.

"hello?" you said as leah was yet to speak, you thought maybe she had called the wrong number. maybe she hadn't meant to call you .

"hi y/n-" she finally spoke but she lacked her usual confident tone, this time it had been replaced with a nervous shake of her accent. like she had something in her head that she needed to get out.

"did you need something le?" you ask as there is a deafening silence on the other end, a few rustling sounds before leah clears her throat.

"um are you doing anything this afternoon-" leah paused as you think to your plans for the afternoon, "more specifically are you doing anything at two?" leah continued as she waited your response as you hummed.

"no i should be free, why?" you asked wondering what this was going to lead to, what did she have planned.

"fabulous!" a breath of relief was let out from leah as she had a big grin on her face on the other line which if you could have saw would have made you smile, "since you aren't doing anything, do you wanna come to my match?"

you felt as though her words had just fell on deaf ears, you couldn't believe what you were actually hearing. ever since you and leah had- well whatever your relationship was it had always been in the darkness of everyone else, behind peoples back and away from prying eyes.

this felt like a step, you didn't know what direction but it felt like it meant something good.

as you tried to contain your happiness you nodded forgetting she wasn't actually in the room with you, "i- um i would love to le"

"great! i'll erm get your tickets sorted and send them over" leah explained as you hummed along before she quickly had to say her goodbyes claiming that she needed to get her pre match routine started.

since having to re-organise your afternoon, you were now going around rushing trying to find an outfit. not knowing if it was too cliche you going in an arsenal jersey of leah's or whether a subtle hint of red in your outfit would be a better idea.

deciding on just the subtle hint of red, finding a red cap which just so happen to also be leah’s which she’d left at yours after one night.

once you got the match you were amazed at the amount of people who had turned up, yourself not being as clued in of how big a scale women’s football was as admittedly you didn’t exactly have a big interest in football or in sport in general.

but for leah, you’d sit and watch football match after match if you knew it would make her happy.

once you found your seat in the stand you quickly sent the blonde a message not expecting her to even reply but she did.

Y/N:) - i’m here! good luck, i’ll be cheering you on☺️

LE<3 - i seen you! i’ve been looking for that hat. but i think it’s found a better home now;)

LE<3 - meet me near the dugout at the end!

finding yourself smiling at her messages as she sent another telling you what to say to the security so they would let you in to where leah wanted you to be, before slipping your phone back into your pocket ready to watch a game of football.

the ninety minutes felt as if they flew by, and at first you must admit you didn’t exactly understand what you were watching so you just cheered when everyone else around you did, but at the first half and definitely into the second half you managed to get a few rules down — with the help of a google search..

watching as leah walked around clapping and waving to fans looking so effortlessly good in her kit and with the fact she’d just run around for a good ninety minutes it never managed to fail to surprise you how easy she made it look.

despite the team only coming out with a draw which you knew leah would be slightly huffed about especially since they were by far the better team, you still were incredibly proud of her.

walking down and reciting the exact words that leah had messaged you to the security you made it to where she had told you to meet her, but that’s when a certain someone recognised you. a wide smile and arms wide open for you.

"oh y/n it's lovely to see you" amanda engulfed you in a hug, a warm fuzzy but also bittersweet feeling filling your chest. you'd met her mum totally by accident one of the first times that you and leah slept together. she'd been dropping of groceries for her daughter. leah trying to rush you out the door before things got to awkward.

but instead amanda being the polite women she is asked her daughter to introduce you to her. it ending up you stayed an extra two hours longer than you'd planned much to leah's discomfort, but in a way that made it all the more that enjoyable.

"what you doing after here?" amanda asked as she pulled you out the hug, leah lingering just behind you chewing the inside of her lip. "just if your not busy you can always join us for a few drinks" amanda smiled so sincerely as you thought over the invitiation briefly, would it be awkward - maybe? but friends can go out for drinks too!

“yeah, i’d love too” you grinned as a small cheer left amanda’s lips, you seeing the slight falter of a look on leah’s face before it turned back to her signature tight lipped frown.

or maybe you did it just to spite the blonde defender who stood so nervous next to you.

"brilliant! leah we'll wait out at the cars for you" amanda directed towards her daughter as she nodded a small sigh leaving her lips as she plastered on a fake smile, you knew there was a part of her that didnt want you there but that just added fuel to your fire.

amanda looping her arm with yours as the two of you walked towards where the cars would be at the back of the emirates stadium to take you and the williamson family for a few drinks to celebrate the win.

"so how have you been?" amanda asks as she walks beside you, a genuine interest in her tone, as you hum catching her up with your life which hadn't been all that exciting, most days merging into one.

"leah tells me you've been helping her with some business project? how's it going?" amanda asks and you swear your throat started to close up, your words getting stuck in between your lips as your eyes goes wide.

"oh- um yeah it's coming together-" quite literally. you stutter out a response hoping it doesn't raise to much suspicion and praying that the topic is over with just as quick as it came.

"leah won't give me a clue what it's about" amanda complains as she continues to tell you about the countless times she tried to get it out of her daughter as you hummed along more in your head as to why leah would say you were just business partners? why not just say your friends, cause after all you were?

"mhm well i won't be one to spoil the surprise then" you nervously chuckled as you saw the cars in the distance knowing you were close to the end of the conversation. amanda letting out a groan as she hoped she'd be able to get the big surprise out of you but that would be pretty hard considering there was no big surprise.

you were going to have to talk with leah, which would be a little odd as when the two of you were alone, not much talking would be done well not the converse action.

amanda letting go of your arm as she got into the other side of the cab, leah coming out the exit of the back of the stadium as she jogged quickly getting into the people carrier. sitting herself in the seat next to you as she shot you a soft smile.

-

the night was actually going smoothly, leah seemed to get out of whatever strop she was in when you were stood with her family in the emirates and was actually talking to you now. well more flirting with you. her hand getting dangerously high up on your thigh as she spoke.

"have i told you how pretty you look-" she blurted out as you took a small sip of your drink, a small smile appearing on your face as you lifted the glass from your lips and back to the table.

"you may have mentioned a few times" you whispered as this time it was leah's time to smile as her hand drifted a little further up your thigh as you shot her look as she squeezed your thigh making you jump in your seat a little.

"le-" you harhsly said inbetween your teeth as she looked at you so innocently as if she had not clue what she was doing to you but you know she knew. leah knew what her touch was doing to you and how it was affecting you.

leah had you right where she wanted you and honestly, you were going to let her - you'd face the consequences later on. right now, you wanted her, in more ways than one.

standing up with a loud scrape of your chair, all eyes turning to land on you, "m'sorry just- i'll be back-" you stutter out, your cheeks all flushed as you made a beeline straight for the toilets.

amanda looking worryingly over her shoulder at you before turning to leah, who just simply shrugged that making her mum's eyebrows furrow even more.

"i better go and check on her" leah stood up excusing herself as she followed suit pushing the door on the pub toilet door seeing you touching up your lip gloss as you regained your composure from the feeling on her hands on your body.

leah locking the door behind her, a rye smile on her lips as she stepped just that little bit closer to you, feeling your heart beat just that little bit faster.

was it nerves, probably but maybe it was more the uncertainty as you never knew what you were going to get with the blonde.

"are you sure?" leah whispered as she placed a quick kiss to your cheek before resting her hands to your hips as a smug smile came from you before you nodded.

"do you think you can keep up?" leah teased as your shot her a shocked look as she pulled you into deeper into the bathroom, your back now pushed flush against the sink.

"i'm sure i can.. business partner-" you whisper as you inch closer to her, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips a flash of shock appearing on her face.

but just as leah opened her mouth to say another teasing comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. the kiss quickly turning heated when leah's tongue enters your mouth as a familiar warmth floods your body in seconds,

her hands gripping at your waist as she tugs you closer to her without breaking the kiss. the sound of your lips together was enough to leave an uncomfortable throbbing inbetween your legs.

leah pulls back for a moment searching for anything in your eyes that may say that you don't want this but there was nothing but lust, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact in your lips before leah's diving right back in.

the sound that had been blasting through the pub had now quieten to a mere hum as your focus was solely now on the girl in front of you.

her hands placed on the small on your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch as your chest pushed into her. as leah's hands soon made their way slowly to slide down you your ass as your tongues graze against each other.

"so pretty for me, my love" your heart jumps at her loving tone as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks, leah's words always having some sort of effect on you and always leaving you feeling flustered.

leah's eyes roam your figure as her hand traces absentmindedly, as if she planning her next attack on your body. the blonde noticing the way your breath hitched when her fingers sit on your pulse point on your neck.

leah rotating her hand so her fingers lie gently against it awaiting your reaction as she smirks watching as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your hands grip against the rim of the sink.

a small chuckle leaves leah's lips as she leans down to press her lips to your neck sucking harshly on your sweet spot. a string of little whimpers leave your pretty little lips as you tilt your head more to the side allowing leah to have more access.

"le, please do something" you beg, feeling her hand roam underneath your hoodie, grazing across your breasts.

"don't be impatient baby girl" she rasps against your ear, tugging down on it with her teeth as you feel your self squeeze your thighs together. hoping it will help you relieve some tension between her legs.

leah finally lifting your hoodie over your head as she throws to the ground of the pub bathroom. usually you would have felt embarrassed as you would feel your whole body want to cower aways but with leah, it felt different. it felt good, it felt right.

-

it was a typical saturday night, leah had her home match at the emirates on the sunday so she was taking advantage of her the small out of rest time she had. a small hum of the tv playing in the background as you watched it, but really all your mind could focus on was the fact leah’s fingers were combing through the ends of your hair.

you were lying wrapped in leah's arms on her couch as the tv played, leah focused on some insta reel on her phone. you head tucked on her chest as it heaved up and down, the wholesome of the interaction. it felt like it was meant to be — it felt real.

"le?" you whispered your head turning to look up at the blonde as a small hum left her lips, her phone lowering a little.

"where do you see yourself in a year?" you asked, it was something that played on your mind a lot, cause would you still be in some casual relationship with leah or would you have your own apartment and she’d show you off to her friends as something more.

you were more hoping for the second option, since the months had passed since you both promised out of breathe that there wouldn’t be any strings attached.

and boy oh boy had that changed, especially since your favourite bra lived in her dresser. it was pretty hard to be casual.

“cause maybe we’d be more and going on cute little dates in a cafe before you’d go off to training” you began as you sat up, you rambling on as your hands flew around with some enthusiasm making you miss the way leah’s face changed.

“and then when you come home i’d be there waiting, your dinner on the table-“ you paused as you looked down to see leah’s face, puzzled but also her eyes they told you a different emotion, not the same energy you had but it was sadness — more a sense of guilt.

“i- sorry i got ahead of myself” you mumbled as your back sunk into the back of her couch, the further side from her.

leah shook her head, and you were half expecting her to wrap you in a hug and kiss your cheek and tell you it was okay and that maybe she felt the same way.

but she didn’t.

"y/n, remember, we're not together-" leah cut straight to the point, her tone blunt as you felt your heart drop and your brows furrowing and a quickly developing pout spreading across your lips.

you let out a shaky breath as you nodded slowly, you understood. she had kept her side of the promise of no strings attached. “i- just thought maybe?” you said so quietly it only came out as a whisper as you fidgeted with your fingers.

looking up to see leah’s face it told you everything you needed to know. you’d only known the blonde for a several amount of months but you knew her well enough to know what her face was telling you without actually having to say the actual words.

“oh i get it” you scoffed slightly, choking back on the tears which pricked at your eyes. all it ever was going to be was casual.

leah’s opened her mouth but nothing came out as she sat herself up on the couch but before she could even attempt to reach out to you, you were up from the couch. slipping your shoes on your feet. you didn’t want to be in the same room as her.

“y/n- don’t” leah finally managed to get out as she followed your actions following you into her hallway which was littered with her football memorabilia from her glittering career. but you shook your head, her voice to painful to hear as you stopped with your back to her just before the front door.

"do you know what's actually quite funny-" you paused to let out a little chuckle as you stood mere metres from the door, as you looked up from your shoes spinning slightly so you faced her. leah stood her shoulders sunken as she tried to plead with you not to leave.

"i actually thought i meant something to you- but i guess that's just how little i actually meant to you" you sighed as tried to steady your breath, tears prickling at your eyes ready to fall at any moment.

"i- i was ready-" you paused as your words got stuck in your throat, leah reaching out for you as you took a step back. "i was ready to give you my everything" you admitted it coming out just a little louder than a whisper.

"y/n-"

“no leah, you’d made it clear how you feel” you spat out as you spun on your heal, leaving leah calling out your name but your ignored her, reaching for the door and hearing how it clicked shut behind you.

part of you was hoping she was going to rip her front door open and call after you and not stop until you were back in the warmth of her arms but the corridor in her apartment block was silent.

the other part of you hated yourself how long you had let it drag out for, but now you were free. she can go to hell.

stumbling through the street as your tears fell down your cheeks, tapping away at your phone until you found the contact you wanted, the dial drilling through your ear a few times before it got to voicemail.

you sighed as you heard the beep, "i cut her off, amelie."

[indecisive-capricorn]

Small Headcanons to Miguel O'Hara After Pregnant Wife Reader Gives Birth:

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I miss reading and writing Miguel O'Hara fics so muchhhhh!! But yeah, my schedule lately has been so hectic and busy, I wasn't even sure if I would be able to finish this in time for the 2nd of June. I will probably just post shorter contents instead of my usual ones.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

First and foremost, Miguel is in absolute awe when baby Benjamin entered the world. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness bloom in his chest over the little infant. And when Miguel held him for the first time- oh, he was so close to crying right then and there. Miguel could never understand how people could love within a few seconds of meeting them, but he was immediately proven wrong by his tiny son who was quick to steal a spot in his heart.

Miguel is constantly raining you with love and affection after you had given birth. He couldn't think of how he could ever repay you, the love of his life, from bringing your baby into this world, and he is forever grateful for the second chance you had given him, especially since the journey before is a hard one too.

However, if you think for a second that Miguel will leave your side for missions, then you're sorely mistaken. Miguel has a duty being the head of Spider Society, but he also has a duty as a husband and father. Also, there is in no hells way Miguel is letting you or Benjamin out of his sight while you're both at your most vulnerable states. He specifically restricted Lyla to not give him any assignments throughout the next month after your birth, only telling her to give him occasional updates and to assign his missions to either Jessica or Peter.

You know those husbands who does all the work after their wife has given birth? Like, literally everything and anything their heart wishes? Yeah, that's literally Miguel. He's the one constantly taking care of you and Benjamin all the time, from changing his diapers to making sure to order your favourite food, especially the ones you weren't allowed to eat during your pregnancy. Miguel is very active, always using every one of his minutes doing something, and he enjoys it.

MIguel sometimes fear that he might have neglected you during your pregnancy, which wasn't the case, but he felt as if he could have spent more time taking care of you. That's probably why he enjoys spending each moment with you and Benjamin after taking the two of you home. Time was very precious to him and Miguel had learnt to cherish it after years of experience. It could be an ordinary day with a slightly fussy Benjamin and a moody you, but he would still embrace it with open arms and love the time spent together.

Miguel has always been protective of you and Benjamin, there's no doubt on that, but there is this deep fear in his heart that something might happen to Benjamin the same way something had happened to Gabriella. Due to it, he has a very hard time falling asleep most nights, often choosing to not sleep at all and would use the excuse that he was merely tending to Benjamin. You knew the truth, of course, and you had a long talk with your husband about it, assuring him that nothing will happen to Benjamin and managed to get him to sleep for a few hours.

That is until Benjamin woke the two of you up with his cries of hunger.

[vivwritescrappythings]

Yours

joel miller x fem!reader

Finally finishing the request for a Joel Miller fic inspired by "Jealous" by Nick Jonas for @prettyinpunk85 (I hope you like it)

You get new neighbors in Jackson, Joel doesn't like how much attention they pay to you so he decides to teach them a lesson.

tw: afab and fem reader, p in v sex, alludes to curvy reader, age gap (twenty years), exhibitionism, some dubcon, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex (do as i say not as fanfic writes), oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, jealous joel, written from joel's perspective (may be bad)

Word Count: 4.8k

MDNI

masterlist

—

Joel didn’t know what to do with himself when you’d happily announced that you had new neighbors. The house next to his in Jackson had been empty for some time, it was yours until you decided to move in with him and Ellie. He was hoping the neighbors would be a family, or maybe some older survivors. Really, someone you could be friends with, he knew you were way too extroverted for just his company.

But instead the new neighbors were his nightmare: two guys–in their twenties.

You were young for Joel, he knew that. Part of him had always attributed your interest in him to the fact that choices were limited in the zombie apocalypse. He hadn’t even known how to flirt with you, awkwardly leaving tattered books he had found during supply runs on your front porch, sometimes accompanied by wilted wildflowers. One day he had left you a bookshelf he’d built, endless hours spent in his studio sanding the wood to perfection and carving flowers into the border. You had to ask him to come over to help you move it inside.

That was over two years ago, and he still had no clue why a pretty thing like you had decided to even talk to him, let alone be with him. To be honest, no one else in Jackson understood it, either. You worked at the small bakery on Main Street and wanted to convert one of the buildings into a library. You liked to sew pretty dresses and planted superficial flowers outside of the house in the summertime. 

Joel was nothing of the sort, keeping everyone at an arm’s length aside from Tommy and Ellie. He stayed on the fringes of community events, always present but never participating. Ellie was loud enough for the both of them, boisterous and friendly and everything he wasn’t. He was happy to watch her thrive.

So the first time she asked him to go to the bakery so she could hang out with a friend, he reluctantly agreed. He’d introduced himself to you like a complete idiot, blushing when you laughed and informed him that you were neighbors. Joel had become enamored with you from the second he saw your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the edges and your cheeks lifted. He could’ve died a happy man right there at the counter. 

From then on, he claimed that bakery visits were firmly his responsibility.

He sucked up every piece of information you gave him, starting with your favorite items at the shop and spiraling until he knew that you loved wildflowers and what books you liked to read. Joel was greedy, he wanted to know everything about you–he wanted to be the only person that knew everything about you. 

That was when he started leaving you gifts at your door, and the rest was history.

So when you swatted his hand away from the cooling cookies on the rack in the kitchen, his brown eyes regarded you with betrayal. “They’re for the neighbors,” you informed him, untying your cute, frilly little apron and hanging it on the hook he’d installed.

The neighbors.

They had already become adversaries in a war that only he knew existed. Joel sighed, heavy boots plodding against the floor until he could wrap his arms around your waist and pull your back to his chest. “Now why are you giving the neighbors my cookies?” he asked, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your temple. 

“To be friendly, Joel,” you said with a giggle, turning in his arms to look up at him. His big, scarred hands were on the small of your back, fingertips rubbing gentle circles through your shirt. He swore his heart stopped every time you looked up at him, your thick eyelashes fluttering as your lips quirked into a smile. “Something that you are unfamiliar with.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “M’friendly,” he protested, pecking you on the lips as though it would prove his point.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, leaning up and kissing the corner of his lip once before squirming out of his grip. You retrieved one of the few plates that didn’t have a chip missing from the cabinet, transferring the cookies onto it with care. “It took you how many months to talk to me?”

Even if the question wasn’t rhetorical, he decided to treat it that way. He moved closer to you, a possessive hand curling around your waist and lips meeting your shoulder. “To prove you wrong, I’ll come with you to introduce ourselves to the neighbors.” He wanted to keep an eye on them, let them know that his pretty girlfriend was in fact taken before they got any wrong ideas.

Your brow furrowed, immediately suspicious of his motives. “Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?” 

He smiled, trying to be sweet and smooth like he used to be when he was younger. Before everything. “Maybe I just want to be nice, wildflower. Ever thought of that?” 

Your eyes dragging across him let him know that you weren’t convinced. The two of you stared at one another, waiting to see who would cave first. Apparently it was you. “Fine, but I know you’re up to something.”

Joel’s hand was firmly planted on the small of your back as you stepped out into the afternoon sun, the whole world looking like it was dipped in gold. You went up the rickety porch stairs first, Joel only a half step behind you as you adjusted the plate to one hand to knock on the door.

He was staring at the way the blue paint was starting to peel, thinking about how no self-respecting man would let his house fall into disrepair like that. No mind that they had only moved in a few days ago, they should’ve repainted the front door by now–it was people’s first impression whenever they walked up to the house.

It took a moment after you knocked for the door to swing open, two blonde idiots who looked like they were straight out of a magazine advertisement standing on the other side. Their blue eyes lit up when they saw you, easy smiles gracing their features like they hadn’t been battle-hardened by the outbreak.

Not like Joel was.

Joel’s fingers dug into your back, his expression hardening. They tempered their excitement when they saw him, standing so close to you that he could practically be your shadow.

He loathed the way they were looking at you, his jaw set tight and flexing beneath his beard. You were talking, he could hear the notes of your voice like you were speaking underwater–he was too focused on the dopey smiles in front of you to even pay attention to what was being said. You made them laugh, they said something back to you. Probably their names if he had to guess.

Before he even realized, you were tugging him back down their porch steps and into your shared home, flitting away to make Joel his own personal batch of cookies like nothing had happened.

–

Three times that week he had come home to find them loitering outside the front door or talking to you along the edge of the freshly painted picket fence. They were always showering you with compliments, be it about your cookies or the flowers you’d carefully planted in the boxes Joel had built you. They scattered whenever Joel was there, making excuses about chores that needed to get done or errands that needed to be finished.

But he knew better.

Of course, you talked about the nice boys next door over dinner, it took everything in him to not immediately scowl at the mention of them. The fact that you referred to them as boys was laughable, they were closer to your age than he was—maybe a few years difference between you at most. Nothing compared to his whopping couple decades. He tried to brush the thought away as quickly as it sprouted.

He humored you, knowing that you just thought that everyone was kind and friendly and honest because you were. That was what he loved about you.

–

The last straw was when he was out in the back installing a porch swing for you to read on. They were doing something, near enough to the tall fence splitting the yards that he could hear them talking as clear as day. 

Joel almost went over there to give them a piece of his mind, listening to them speculate about why you were with him. They were laughing as they bet that he couldn’t even get it up anymore, that there was no way he was taking care of you like a man was supposed to. 

He was old, angry. And you… you weren’t.

He was seething by the time they finished up and went into their house, his hands nearly shaking when he finished screwing the brackets into the roof. Back in the QZ, Joel would have probably fought them—killed them, if he was honest with himself. 

It would be easy to bust down their door and give them his retribution, he wasn’t always the domesticated beast he’d become for you. But nevertheless, he sucked it up. You would be devastated if he fought with them, as much as he would love to feel their skin split under his knuckles. He couldn’t do that to you.

—

It was a few evenings later that he got what he wanted: an opportunity for his revenge. You were on the porch swing with him, the two of you nestled together in the orange rays of the sunset. You both were reading, Joel’s arm tucked around your shoulders so your chin was pressed against his bicep. 

You always were fully immersed in your books, an earthquake could happen and you would have no clue. So you didn’t hear your neighbors’ back door slide open, but Joel did. 

He barely moved, didn’t bother to say a word as his broad hand moved from cupping your shoulder to gently graze around the side of your breast. It was a lazy day for the two of you, you were only dressed in one of Joel’s flannels and pajama shorts that were so loose around your thighs you may as well have never put them on.

You immediately shivered at his touch, your thumb slipping between the pages of your book to hold your place. “Joel, the neighbors,” you whispered, twisting so you could look up at him. 

“Went on a hunting trip, they’re not home,” he said loud enough for them to hear. Hopefully they would have the good sense to shut up. His thumb circled your already stiff nipple, a smirk stretching across his features conspiratorially. “C’mon, Ellie’s at a friend’s house and no one’s here—let’s test out the porch swing.”

Your lips were already parted, the heat building on the back of your neck so intense Joel could feel it through his shirt. “Joel,” you whined in the way that made him get hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

“Yeah?” he asked, suddenly playing dumb as though he hadn’t started it. 

You pouted, your brow furrowing and bottom lip jutting out as you arched your tit further into his hand. He acquiesced immediately—he always did—pinching your nipple through the well worn fabric of his flannel. His reward was a soft moan from you, your body both melting into and arching away from his. 

“What’s my girl want?” Joel asked, his voice a deep rasp as he stamped his lips against your temple. The small of your back was pressed against his oblique, your cheek squishing into his collarbone as he watched your thick thighs press together. He kept toying with your nipple, his free hand setting his book aside and pulling yours from your clutch. “C’mon, you gotta tell me. Can’t read minds.”

You huffed, you always hated it when he made you ask for what you wanted. “Joel please,” you whined, pressing your heels against the cushion that covered the wooden seat and sitting up so you were flush against him.

“Please what?” His free hand skimmed down your side, snapping the stretched-out, elastic waistband of your shorts. It made you squeak, a quiet giggle coming from your throat.

“God, please just touch me,” you whined, your impatience making him chuckle darkly. His hand moved from your waist, tracing over the pudge of your stomach and dipping into your loose sleep shorts. There was nothing beneath, just your soft skin and the curly patch of hair on your pubic bone.

“No panties? You slut,” Joel teased, his fingers traveling even further down until they sunk into your cunt. You were wet and warm, almost scalding his skin as he parted the lips of your sex to find your swollen clit. “And already so soaked.” 

You moaned, a hand winding around his bicep as your back arched. He kissed the crown of your head as he rubbed your clit between the pads of his pointer and middle fingers, slow and soft. He knew you’d complain, beg him for more. He just wondered how long it would take until you did. 

Not long at all, it was maybe half a minute when you rocked your hips impatiently against his hand. “Joel, you’re being mean.” You were loud, louder than you would ever mean to be with the threat of someone possibly catching you.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Mean? Not true,” he countered, increasing the pressure he was putting on your clit. If he strained his ears he could hear how wet you were, a quiet squelching noise barely muffled by the fabric of your shorts. You pressed your hips further against his hand, your teeth digging into your lower lip to keep your noises to a minimum.

He dipped to gather more slick at your fluttering entrance, teasing it for a moment before returning to your clit. You were being so good for him, so sweet. His other hand unbuttoned the flannel you were wearing down to your navel, freeing your breast for him to knead and squeeze in his broad palm. 

Your eyebrows bunched together, your lips parting as your gaze was stuck on where his hand disappeared beneath your shorts. “Feeling good?” he asked, relishing in your moan of agreement as you nodded. 

Joel smirked, pulling his hand from your shorts. “No–oh my god,” you protested, nearly up in arms. If looks could kill, he would be struck dead. He stood, his dark eyes briefly looking over the fence to see the neighbors still on their porch, their jaws dropped to their chests.

His smile widened as he sank to his knees in front of you, your protests dropping off as you lifted your hips so he could take your shorts off. A wicked grin stretched on your features, you sucked your bottom lip back into your mouth as your gaze roved over him. You settled so your ass was almost hanging off the porch swing, spreading your legs without Joel having to direct you to do so. 

“You want me to eat this pretty pussy of yours?” he asked, rough hands smoothing along the insides of your soft thighs. Joel wasn’t a man with a weakness for pretty things, but there was something about your slick and puffy pussy dripping for him that made his heart nearly stop.

“Fuck, please, Joel.” He loved the way you begged. 

Joel pressed his mouth to the soaking mess of your sex, moaning at your salty-sweet taste on his tongue. He could never get enough of you, settling one leg over the curve of his shoulder as his other hand pressed your knee to your chest. The sun was shining in his eyes, but he didn’t let it stop him from looking up at your face. He lapped at your cunt with firm, long strokes, practically drinking from you.

In a moment of generosity, he pressed the middle and ring finger of his free hand knuckle-deep in your pussy, pulling a loud and broken moan from your chest. He was smiling into your pussy, suckling at your swollen clit as he pumped his fingers into you.

Your fingers tangled into his dark brown curls, grabbing at them in a way that sent shivers down his spine as you pulled his head flush against you. Joel loved the way your soft thighs pressed against his ears, almost muffling the sweet sounds falling from your pretty lips. Almost. Being outside had made you reckless, the promise of Ellie and the neighbors being gone letting you reach a volume that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Of course, Joel knew better. He ate you like a starving man, proud that every sound you made was heard by the two men–boys–sitting on the other side of the fence.

His knees on the concrete ached, his back protesting being curled so he could keep his mouth pressed tightly against your weepy cunt. The pain was worth it, every second of it was worth it just to make you fall apart. Just to remind the world that you were his and his alone. 

Your head had fallen back to rest on the bench, your eyes scrunched closed as you gasped. Joel’s fingers crooked inside of you, finding the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. It made you writhe, the hand keeping you spread apart for him pinning you down and forcing you to be somewhat still as he pressed at that spot mercilessly. His eyes remained on you as much as they could, taking in every heaving breath and the way your breasts moved under the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt.

It was only moments more until you were coming apart at the seams. You’d squirmed out of his hold, your heels digging into his broad back. Your legs clamped around his head, your back nearly broken with an arch. The sound you made was almost wounded, a desperate cry of his name as your legs spasmed and you practically gushed over his hand.

He worked you through the aftershocks, your pussy fluttering deliciously around his thick fingers. Your hold on his hair loosened just enough for him to pull away, mouthing at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You came back to yourself, breathing again as your legs relaxed to rest on his shoulder. He peppered sticky, wet kisses on your inner thighs.

“Joel, oh my god,” you sighed, scrubbing a hand over your face as you panted. A laugh left your chest, making him grin like an idiot as he rested his facial-hair covered cheek against your leg and caught his breath.

���Clean these up for me,” he requested, his soaked fingertips now pressing at her bottom lip. They glistened in the afternoon sunlight, a sticky film coating the entirety of them. You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment, your bratty streak coming through before you submitted and opened your mouth to let his fingers slide against your warm tongue.

You sealed your lips around them, sucking your slick off earnestly and rolling your tongue along his digits. “What a good girl, sucking on my fingers like that,” Joel said as he stood, making eye contact with the neighbors before looking back down at you. His knees protested the movement, cracking a bit as he straightened. 

He had to check to see if they were paying attention, the blush across their faces visible from across the yard.

A hum against his fingers brought Joel’s attention back to you. You watched him through your thick eyelashes, the sight alone making him feel like he was going to blow his load.

Your hands found the tie at his sweatpants, pulling the bow apart impatiently. You let go of his fingers with a pop, your soft lips shiny with a mix of your spit and slick as you started to pull his sweatpants down. “Wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you said, almost sounding drunk on it as your fingers hooked in the elastic waist.

He couldn’t help his smirk, his hand caressing your cheek and jaw as he looked down at you. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into him as he let the silence hang for a moment. You were being so perfect for him and you didn’t even know the extent of it.

“Nuh uh, not tonight,” Joel said, stooping down to press a wet kiss to your forehead. Your whine of protest made his chest puff up with pride. 

He shook his head with a smirk, kneeling down on the cracked concrete again. His poor knees–he would certainly regret the entire escapade tomorrow. Really, he wanted to get you up on his lap and have you ride him until you were crying–but he didn’t want to risk you seeing the neighbors. Or the neighbors seeing any more of you than the back of your head.

Grabbing you by the waist, he pulled you so your entire ass was hanging off the porch swing. The only thing keeping you from falling was his hands and your legs hooking around him for some stability. You were already grabbing at him, fingers twisting in the shirt he still wore. “Want me to fuck you?” 

“Uh huh,” you panted desperately, nodding with a frantic look in your eye. “Please, Joel.”

He smiled, pushing his sweatpants down around his thighs and taking his cock into his hand. You moaned as he rubbed the tip of it along the seam of your pussy and pressed it against your clit. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered as the blunt head of his cock caught, Joel filled you with a quick slot of his hips.

Your head fell back, a whine pulling from your throat as you bore down around him. He almost lost his mind right there, no matter how many times you’d had sex you still were so tight. You both stilled, panting and gripping at one another as you become acquainted, blinking in the afternoon sun.

“God, I love this pussy,” Joel grunted, trying to talk you through it as he started thrusting gently. No matter how quiet he was in his normal life, as soon as he felt you squeezing around his cock he started running his mouth. The hinges of the swing creaked a little as it moved back and forth, his hands anchored to your hips. 

He took you slow, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. Bitten down grunts and grit teeth were met with your sweet mewls and dulcet moans as he split you apart. One of your hands reached for his, your fingers lacing with his before he pressed your knuckles onto the cushion of the swing. “Wanna hold my hand, sweet girl?” he asked, voice borderline condescending as he did.

You nodded pathetically, gasping every time he rutted inside of you. He’d reduced you to mush, partially formed words dying against your lips as he hit home against the spot inside you that always made your breath lock up in your chest.

“Who do you belong to?” Joel asked, squeezing your hand to get you to come back down to earth. You looked a mess, completely fucked out as you blinked slowly and took a deep breath. It took you a minute to really focus on him, your hand weakly squeezing back. 

“You, Joel,” you answered, teeth scraping along your plump lower lip as you fisted the open flannel still draped around your shoulders.

He chuckled darkly, leaning down toward you as he kept up his almost machine-like pace. “Louder, be a good girl,” he murmured, pressing a wet and sloppy kiss to your throat. You clenched around him at the praise, it had always been one of your weaknesses.

“Joel, m’yours,” you gasped, words broken up by the reverb of his thrusts and the slap of his heavy balls against your ass.

He never had reason to doubt that he was who you wanted to be with, but the reassurance helped ground him. The whole week he’d been wondering if he was holding you back, if you actually wanted something else from life. But with the way you were taking his cock? The way you moaned for him? Hell, the way you looked at him was more than enough. There was no mistaking it for anything other than love. 

“That’s right, you’re mine.” You shifted under him, the angle of your spine letting him hit deeper inside of you. His hand left your waist to grab the soft cheek of your ass, keeping you steady and supported. “No one else’s, right?”

“Yeah, Joel. Just yours.” The assurance was breathy, your voice faltering in your throat as you started to go rigid. You were looking up at Joel so sweetly, tears starting to glisten in your eyes as you tugged against the fabric of his flannel that you wore on the porch swing that he built you at his house. He had a mean possessive streak, but look at you–so happy to be his.

He lost himself. He worked on pure instinct, pistoning into you as he became blind with the desire to pin you down and fill you. You whined as he slammed into you, his sweaty forehead pressing against your sternum and his hands gripping you tight. He could feel you draw up like a spring beneath him.

You lurched on a wail, your cunt clenching around him so tightly that it almost hurt as you came. Joel moaned in sympathy with you, greedily taking in every expression you made beneath him. You whimpered and mumbled unintelligibly, your grip tightening around the hand you still clasped as your limbs locked up. 

Joel lost all semblance of coordination and control, hitching up one of your thighs and driving himself deep into you. Instinct dictated his every move, overriding common sense as he grunted above you like an animal.

He thought his jaw would crack in half from how hard he was clenching it, mumbling nonsense to you through his teeth. There was a lurch deep in his stomach, his abdomen starting to flex as he fell out of his rhythm. It was only a moment more before it felt like his skin was too tight and everything was too hot and he was spilling inside you while groaning your name. 

You were so full that you were leaking around him, come dripping down his balls and splattering on the concrete. Both of you were shaking, breathing each other’s air as your foreheads pressed together. Love filled your expression, making him smile tiredly.

You felt for him, your fingertips caressing his jaw as you brought him in for a gentle kiss. You always brought him back, reminded him to be soft with you when he nearly forgot. His tongue licked into your mouth for a moment before he ducked his head and lazily sucked at your breasts, his hips grinding against yours. You both hissed.

“Want me to run a bath for us?” he asked, his voice thick as he mouthed at the skin of your sternum. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding weakly as your fingers skated up from his beard to curl into his hair. It was sweaty at the nape, curling more violently than before. 

He hummed good-naturedly, pulling out of you with a groan before tucking himself back away in his sweatpants. Joel looked down at the mess he made of you, his come already running down the crack of your ass and dripping onto the concrete. He moaned at the sight, even the shitty porn magazines he’d found on supply runs didn’t compare to this.

He helped you back into your shorts, a fist closing your flannel around your chest as you both shakily stood. You were like a newborn fawn, knees knocking together as you leaned into Joel’s chest. He chuckled breathily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and holding you close. A soft I love you was whispered against your temple, a gentle reply following from you.

Joel glanced over the fence as he walked you to the sliding glass door, a proud glint in his eye as he met the shocked stares of your new neighbors. He winked at them, squeezing you tighter before bringing you inside with him.

[magicalrocketships]

Oh, Mog. I often think of you and hope you have energy enough to do the things you want to do, and if that happens to be writing amazing fic, what a cherry on the top of the cake.

HOWEVER! It is hard to be so altruistic when you dangle a little nugget of fic that is Sugar Baby Daniel au. I neeeeeeed it like Max needs sim racing, like Daniel needs his emotional support athletes. I am never going to get over this idea - I hope you manage to write it one day!

Thank you, my lovely. Fatigue is the worst. It's the worst. I'm so exhausted all the time, so thank you for thinking of me <3

I do have more energy to think about fic than I do to write it, but I did write a LITTLE bit of sugar baby Daniel fic, and here's what I have (it might never be more than this, but I plan on thinking about it a lot). it's 2022, Daniel never got to F1 - backstory available upon application - and Daniel and Max met on holiday in Ibiza during at the start of Max's summer break.

&&&

"What do you want for Christmas?" Max asks, seven minutes into a phone call on Daniel's lunch break, where he's eaten half of a Sainsbury's meal deal sandwich he doesn't want and spent the other five minutes complaining to Max about how he fucking hates his fucking job. 

"Not to work here anymore," Daniel complains, opening a too-small box of tiny bits of chopped melon and squishy grapes and wishing he could afford the fancy packs of chopped mango from M&S. 

"Okay," Max says. "Where would you be instead?"

"Partying with you," Daniel grumbles, because the grape isn't nice and he's sick of working through his lunch and all the late nights in the factory and all for a racing team he's starting to hate. 

"Okay," Max says again. "What time do you finish on Friday?"

"It's supposed to be five," Daniel says, "but, like, it never fucking is anymore. You know it's supposed to be shorter hours when it isn't a fucking race weekend but if I'm out of here by seven then I'll be fucking lucky." He stabs a bit of melon with a wooden chopstick because the kitchen never has any forks and he doesn't like sticky fingers. He's cold and bad-tempered and he's had his Christmas extended leave turned down so he can't even go back to fucking Australia and see his parents. Fuck. The melon's on the turn too. It's not his fucking day. How can it be this fucking rainy in fucking August? This is supposed to be summer. 

"I'll send the car to pick you up at five," Max says, as if Daniel isn't midway through a whine. "It can wait until seven if you're still working. The jet will of course wait for you."

"Wait," Daniel says. "What?"

"You're coming to Monaco for the weekend," Max says. "And I'm going to fuck you in every room in my flat."

Daniel chokes on a going-off grape. "What the fuck."

"You didn't think we were not going to be fucking just because we're not in Ibiza anymore, did you?" Max asks. 

That's exactly what Daniel did think. One week in Ibiza fucking a partying racing driver and a few texts and two phone calls afterwards and he'd assumed this was one incredible, heady dream and not something that was ever going to continue beyond a holiday romance. Even this phone call seems improbable and made up. He's been limiting himself to a dream of just being a name Max remembers. 

"That's very stupid, Daniel," Max says, as if Daniel's the ridiculous one here. "I'll fly you back in time for work on Monday. Okay?"

"Okay," Daniel says, with a slightly embarrassing squeak. 

"Good," Max says in satisfaction. "I've missed being fucked by you."

&&&

Not only is there a car waiting for him on Friday after work, there's a private jet, there's fancy fucking snacks and nice gin and when he lands in Nice, there's a fucking helicopter waiting to fly him to Monte Fucking Carlo. Then there is World fucking Champion Max Verstappen waiting by a car that probably costs more than five times Daniel's annual fucking salary, followed by World fucking Champion Max Verstappen kissing him in the front seat of a supercar and depositing a gift bag in Daniel's lap like it's nothing but a bag of pickled onion Monster Munch. 

"We're going for dinner," Max says, starting the engine. "You can wear that."

Inside is a dark blue Tag Heuer watch. Daniel looks at it. "Are you lending me it?"

"I bought it for you," Max says, as the engine roars and Daniel gets hard. "I jerked off thinking about you in it."

"Fuck," Daniel says succinctly. He puts it on.

[cyberrose2001]

Hi hi! Your op drawings are so good?? My bby aaa drawing him (bots in gen) is so tough, I get too caught up in the details TT

Anyway, since I miss him lol I was wondering if I could request some... uh, gosh I hate this word but idk anything synonymous. Could I request pussydrunk tfp op?

Hope you're having a nice day/night btw <3

- 🍄

TFP pussydrunk!Optimus x reader

Hi hello!!I am very proud of this and it's probably up there with my list of my favourite fics I have ever written. Thank you so much for requesting and liking my silly sketches of the blorbo. I've written this as gender neutral <3

(lowkey ive been writing heaps of OP eating pussy,,, its a canon event for me i cannot intervene..... anyway its 11AM and i havent slept yet but i needed to finish hggggh *dies of horny*)

Warnings: Oral sex (reader receiving), edging, reader has a vagina.

Word count: 657

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI

Spending time alone with you has learned to be one of Optimus' most treasured past times. But as much as it pains him, relaxing with you is a rare treat. The usual business of the base either keeps him up all night, or he genuinely has no time. However, he tries his best to make the most of it, whether he's relaxing with you, cuddling you, or with his head glued between your inner thighs. 

Like right now. It was nearing two AM. Optimus has you sprawled out on your shared berth, his face pressed against your aching heat, finally finding sweet relief from his built-up arousal. It's been too fragging long since his face was buried in you. He misses it, and if Optimus had a choice, he would sacrifice everything he's worked for to keep you bare before him.

Two hours. Optimus had been lazily lapping at you for two hours now. At one point, his helm had lulled to the side to rest against your right inner thigh to not strain his neck. His glossa grows tired, and his energon roars through his hot frame.

His stamina is almost depleted compared to when he initially delved into your drenched pussy. Despite this, Optimus still has the capacity to tightly grip your hips, gently massaging them as you lie still for him. He is weary, yet he perseveres, ignoring his aching joints and pulsing spike painfully pressed against the berth because tonight is about you. He will make up for all those lonely nights you've spent in berth alone in one lengthy oral session.

It's very often that when Optimus gives you oral, his mind feels like he's been transported to a higher plane of existence, one where he has no responsibilities or obligations to lead a team, just the mind-numbing taste of you. It makes him dizzy and light-headed, similar to the buzz he gets when he has a high grade or two, but Optimus prefers revelling in you instead to get his high. 

As ever patient as you are with your star-crossed lover, your hips still gently roll and shudder involuntarily against his glossa, and Optimus fucking loves it. He loves your soft cries when he sucks on your clit, and he loves when you clamp your legs around his helm when your orgasm is merely within reach. But he won't let you finish just yet, not when he's yet to relish and thoroughly drown himself in your sticky sweet.  

His warm optics remain lazily trained on your face, only fluttering close when you squeeze his helm. The pressure from your thighs only heightens his hunger, a carnal desire to swallow every drop of your aphrodisiac juices. 

"Mmmmm," You mewl, sweaty palms digging into the berth, "Fuck, I missed this… why don't we do this - aah - more often, baby…."

Optimus doesn't respond, and he can't because his processor is so intoxicated and aroused that he can't even form a single coherent sentence. It's quite ironic, he thinks. A mech of his nature that is so poised and articulate in his vocable is conned by his own desperate need to surrender his intake to his humans' essence.

"Mmmffh," He purrs into your heat, parting your sensitive lips with his glossa, lazily swirling around your bud before pressing a gentle kiss against it. He can't help but grind his spike into the berth below at your whimpers, servos kneading into your soft flesh, "More… Primus, I need more…."

You titter breathlessly, snaking a hand to the top of his helm to lightly press his face further into your pulsing heat, and Optimus delightfully grunts. You shiver, biting back a moan at the vibrations, "Go ahead, hun, you've got me for the rest of the night."

Optimus may need to blow a hole into the sun to prevent it from rising, since one night will never be enough to satisfy his thirst for you.

[hoseoksluna]

BERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. hobi)

genre: angst, tiny fluff, itty bitty smut

word count: 6.0k

summary: your ex-boyfriend shouldn't have this much influence over you when you have a new man, should he?

playlist: berries / pinterest board: berries

warnings: depression, daddy issues, use of titles, oc has dirty thoughts about hobi (do we blame her? no, we do not), slowburn, implied sex, dd/lg, soft argument

note: this took every last bit of my strength, so i had to split it up. i'm sorry if this is a piece of absolute shit, but as you all know work this week squeezed everything out of me and i'm so exhausted that i'm not even sure if this is worth posting. i struggled a lot with this fic, rewrote it multiple times, and i'm so very happy that it's finished. i hope you all enjoy the start of a new series, this time a slowburn that will have more parts, more depth and everything. and surprise! it features hobi, my beautiful husband. it was my first time writing about him and he's missing so terribly from my soul that it was one of the reasons why i struggled so much. i wish it weren't like this for my first time with him, but oh well. i hope you, guys, enjoy. please, let me know what you think. <3

The satiny material of your cream-colored dress must be the one and the same that these sculptures had worn centuries ago. You can almost imagine the softness kissing your fingerprint instead of the cool stone as you graze your touch against each and every immortalized angel of loveliness. You’re stirred by a sense of poignancy—that you’re alive and they’re not and yet you believe that as you stare at them, feel what they’ve been through the more you study their eternal expressions, they stare right back with their eternally tender eyes, see right through you, through your heart, know its contents. You wish you were in their place instead; you’re sure they would’ve handled your cursed life better than you can. 

Or you wish you were as stony as them. 

But you’re an opulent fountain of emotions that are anything but gentle. 

This thought distracts your attention from the way your feet ache in the boots you chose to wear to impress your date. Thigh high, with black knee socks underneath to keep you warm from the cruel breath of autumn. Hoseok is carrying your trenchcoat as you’re adventuring on your own in this art museum and that’s the only sliver of kindness he’s shown you this very morning. 

The only compliment you’ve received from him was a nonverbal one. An up and down look with a smirk creeping in when he picked you up at your apartment. No hug, no caress. You felt so small—and awkward a little bit, comparison rushing in. Not in the form of a wave of the sea, but in the form of a snake, its thick body tightening around your throat. An ouroboros, which made you regret going out on a date so soon. 

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve become a single girl again, learning how to walk in this new, harsh reality, your legs wobbly, weak and too, too heavy. And the lack of comfortable physical contact made you see your ex-boyfriend before your own eyes, the memory of how he acted at the beginning of your first date. The way he picked you up into his arms due to his excitement of being with you and carried you inside his car. He put on your seatbelt for you. Drove carefully. Held your hand as he led you to the restaurant he picked for you. Even during the walk after while you talked about the stars and you couldn’t help but tell him that his eyes were filled with them. 

Hoseok did neither of those things. He had asked you where you wanted to go and you’ve wanted to visit the museum for quite a while, so you suggested it. He had agreed, no sort of enthusiasm evident in his voice muffled by the phone call. And you’ve barely exchanged a few words during the half an hour of your time spent here, let alone led an entire conversation. You should’ve heeded the warning when it was right in front of you.

Hoseok is certainly not of the artistic kind. 

Looks quite bored as you turn your head to look at him, your coat dangling from his arm so terribly devastatingly. And when you focus your gaze to your right, where a dark wine-tinged room, with golden frames of paintings, awaits you and where you’ve longed to go the moment you stepped a foot inside this grand building, a distaste pools on your tongue, your former aesthetic elation ruined. 

You’re surprised he didn’t stand you up. 

You don’t even want to take pictures. As a matter of fact, you want to go home. But you can’t. Can’t ravage your only possibility and means of forgetting the person you still love. Can’t really encourage Hoseok to leave your life, not when you’re the type of person that doesn’t find love upon every corner you turn to. 

This is your only chance. And he’s the only man you’ll conceivably have in your life for quite some time. 

You walk up to him and take your coat from his arm. His eyes deepen on you, in fact they haven’t strayed from you during the entire half an hour—and that bothers you. If your ex-boyfriend were here, he’d share the beauty with you. Make you laugh so hard that the sound would echo around the vast room. Perhaps give life to the sculptures and they would laugh along, too. 

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, sinks ever so slowly and you can’t bear it. You need to leave. Take this date elsewhere, hope for betterment to grace you—to have but a fragment of pity for you. 

“You hungry?” you ask, softly, willing your voice to be smooth and not divulge the brassy storm of your emotions to him. Hoseok doesn’t know anything about you. Doesn’t know that you yearn for another person to be standing in his place. “Did you have breakfast?” 

Hoseok needed the date to be in the early hours. Said he had a meeting in the afternoon. Would be working on a project with his colleagues until the late hours. You didn’t mind, not really, in fact it animated you—brought briskness into the sadness of your headspace, knowing it was rainy and cloudy outside. Perfect weather for the influence of the arts. That is, until you realized that it was a grave mistake to take a businessman to a museum; that you dragged a heathen to a church.

Hoseok shifts his weight on each foot, his shoulders swaying with the movement, and he licks his lip, bringing your attention to them. Small, but full—you wonder what they would feel like against yours. Wonder if he’d be gentle with you or violent. If he’d stroke your hair or grip it; fondle the ribbon you’re wearing in a half up do or untie it, entirely. Use it for another means like your ex-boyfriend invariably did. 

Your distaste grows, but not for Hoseok. It grows like poison ivy for yourself and your tendency to compare him with someone he doesn’t deserve to be juxtaposed with. 

Guilt blossoms in your sternum, the leaves of that poison ivy. Pretty to the eye, but deadly for the body. Just like you. You’re too baneful for such a pretty man like Hoseok. You’d do well to respect his boundaries and abstain from physical contact, prevent red rashes from marring his skin.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hoseok says, just as softly, rubbing the nape of his neck, the black cloth of his dress shirt taut over his arms—a pretty sight, one that could be hanging in the wine-tinged room for generations to gawk upon. “Truth be told, I was too nervous.” 

A brief smile adorns his slender face and you melt, the poison ivy scratching you raw. Your heart picks up its rhythm, flattery clothing it in a protective layer and you pout, your hand itching to graze his forearm. But a hidden fight rises in you, an army of darkness ready with their bows, their arrows shooting thoughts into your brain about how little you’re worthy of such kindness and favor. 

Though when Hoseok blushes upon seeing your tender expression, it gives you some sort of strength to stand tall against those demons. Despite the fact you don’t understand it, you don’t question it either and you cling to it, sensing its freedom speaking to you in a foreign language. A yearning forms in you, one you haven’t yet had the possibility of meeting. A yearning to learn its syntax and vocabulary. And when you give in to it, the poison ivy in you lessens. 

This is good. 

You reciprocate his smile and you coo. Find it the easiest thing in the world. And because you’re so grateful for what he’s unwittingly done for you, you decide to share your truth with him as well. 

“Let’s go eat, then.” Your eyes crinkle and you’d bet light flickers in them, for your whole body does, you sense it. A warm light enlarges on its axis, taking a hold of the heaviness you felt. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s what I told myself when I was getting ready. My stomach hurt and believe it or not when I told myself these words, it stopped.” 

Hoseok chuckles, his arm slapping back to his side, but you notice that it trembles. You’re so touched by it that you become angry at yourself, self-hatred clashing with that warmth. You misinterpreted him so unfairly and what’s more, you wallowed in your brokenness and your heartbreak, when Hoseok had been nervous and timid the whole time, which now sheds light on his lack of closeness with you. 

You’re despicable. And the awareness of it transforms into that snake tightening around your throat again. Only this time, you welcome it. Long for it to take your life. It’s the least you deserve. 

But you’re not letting yourself loll in the bed of your horrendous emotions. No, you lift your hand and you caress his arm, the one that quakes. And amidst the sepulchral attention of the sculptures, you’re a witness to that trembling’s halt, to Hoseok’s visible tranquility, and you want to weep. 

You know if you were to gaze at the eternal angels of beauty, you’d see stony tears appear on their ivory cheeks, too. 

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles and you curl your brows in confusion, not knowing what he’s apologizing for. Hoseok opens his mouth again to speak, but he pauses, sloshing the words in his mouth. You feel so bad that a craving to better yourself overcomes your entire being. “I’m sorry for being such a buzzkill. If you wanna explore this place more, we can. I saw you looking at the room with the paintings.” 

He tilts his head in the direction of the aforementioned room, but you care very little about it as of now. You’d much rather take this elsewhere and get to know him better, so you don’t make the mistake of distorting him again. You’re not very keen on forcing a heathen to pray, either, however you do appreciate his willingness and attentiveness. Carry those things into your jarred heart, fold them inside its chambers, the edge pieces to the puzzle of his personality. 

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, taking it one step further and hooking your arm around his. Hoseok sighs, his shyness slowly breaking apart as he clasps his hand over yours and if you could dissolve any more, now would be the perfect time for it. His hold is strong and steady—and it creates something stable within you, an orchard of fruit trees, pink and green, and bushes of berries, a safe place you want to rest in; lay down your brokenness and woes in. “You’re good. No need to apologize.”

His blush deepens at the reassurance and he smiles, softly, running his thumb over your knuckles. And the gratefulness you feel due to the fact he’s touching you, it is the rain that freshens up the apples and cherries hanging on the twigs of those trees, guiding it into full bloom. You focus on it—focus on the thick, cottony material of his dress shirt as you rub his forearm in response. You want to acknowledge yourself with the unspoken parts of him like these, remember them, allow them to heal you and crack the plaster over your heart. 

And there you hear it. The crumble as Hoseok leans in and presses a chaste peck onto your cheek, lingering there for a second more, inhaling your sandalwood scent. And his smile widens as he looks down on you at such close proximity, erasing your touch-starvation once and for all. It’s your turn to blush now and you feel an inkling to shy away from his gaze, but you stifle it back. Curl your mouth in a smile—your heart thumping louder amidst the orchard now that it has more space to function in. 

“No, I really want to apologize. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date and you’re so stunning that I’ve forgotten my game, so I can’t help but to be nervous. I don’t know how to act around you,” he says, mutedly, punctuating his sentence with a breathy laugh, glimmering eyes flicking to the lining of your silky neckline just below your collarbones, tracing the miniature cherub hung up on your dainty necklace plated in gold, motionless against your dress. Your own heart grows wings and momentum in its place, fluttering in haste to move closer to him. He bores his gaze back into yours, letting it stay there. “Art isn’t really my thing, but you look like you belong here. Look like all those angels around.” He nods at your necklace. “And like that angel, too. Can I take a picture of you?”

You’re so taken aback that you don’t have time to respond. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, he withdraws from you and gently ushers you in the direction of the closest angel, your trenchcoat slung over his arm again, vibrating with life. He positions you how he likes—right in front of the immense sculpture, your head turned slightly to the side so the wisps of your white ribbon in your hair can be seen. His touch grounds you, tells your bloodstream, your organs that everything is okay, repeats it a little louder to your headspace—all before war could be declared with you. 

Hoseok, the prince of peace. 

The prince that crouches to the dirty floor so the vastness of the angel’s wings can fit in the shot. Yours, too. You think you’ve grown a pair of your own, alongside your heart, now that your shared honesty brought you closer.

You struggle to hold back your sob, to stop the corners of your mouth from rounding, your chin from quivering—all because the lightness that you sense wrapping over your heart is one you haven’t felt in a really long time. You feel taken care of, feel like you can depend on him, and while you can’t explain why you feel that way, you consider that such an immense blessing, regardless. So much that your eyes wet for the camera, but you don’t mind. Let that be captured in the memory—the mending that occurred. And let that be safe with him. 

You smile and the flash goes off, which causes you to burst into giggles, your liquid softness forgotten, and run to him, your palm covering his phone camera so nobody sees his defiance. You look around to make sure no employee is in sight before you face him, cheeks warm, heart warm, wings warm, body warm. Hoseok quirks a brow, confused, gaping up at you from his position, and you take a deep breath to halt another inrush of laughter.

“You can’t take pictures with flash here. They’ll throw us out,” you whisper-shout, your giggles escaping your tightened mouth. His own forms into an ‘O’, fingers clicking on his screen, presumably turning off the automatic flash.

“I didn’t know,” he whisper-shouts back, mouth stretched in a lopsided grin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.” You shake your head, shoulders still shaking with the last of your giggles. He probably didn’t have a phone back then, which makes it even funnier. He inspects his settings again to make sure it’s all good before his hand finds your thigh and pushes you back. “Okay, I turned it off. Go back to the angel.” 

It’s your whole body that flutters now, not just your heart, both pairs of wings unfurling, and when you retrace your steps, you still feel the heat of his touch—half on the fabric of your dress, half on your bare skin. And as you smile more naturally for the picture this time, greed kisses your core. A greed for more of his touch; on the same place as well as elsewhere. 

A twinkle of where he could possibly touch you flashes before your eyes and it’s all your focal point consists of when you turn your head to your former position the way he wanted it and he praises you for it: “Good, good.” 

Your muscles clench as you imagine his hand going underneath the fabric, exploring what’s hidden in there for him. The words of praise he would utter at the discovery of your private flesh. Your ears must be red. Such a twist of events you didn’t expect. A meek form of demureness creeps in, enveloping you in a feminine sensuality and you’ve missed feeling this way. Missed feeling pretty and alluring for yourself first, then for a man second. Missed being the center of your attention like this, of someone else’s as well. 

You’ve always loved it. Perhaps due to the fact that you very seldom have it—so when it does come, it changes your life and you attach your being to it. 

You didn’t anticipate going home with Hoseok, especially not on the first date. But because you’re being fed, you don’t really care about being proper. You want to go home with him and so you simply shall. 

Can’t let the opportunity run away from you. 

And so you arch your back a little bit more, look up at the angel and give her your silent thanks, your hair flowing around your form when you flick your gaze back to Hoseok to see him concentrated on the task, his smooth features gravely serious. Your stomach flips. 

“Now from the back,” he instructs without lifting his eyes off of the screen of his phone. “Just like you were.” 

A breath lodges in your throat, the double meaning burning the poison ivy down to ashes and you swallow it, let your stomach acid consume it until there’s nothing left of it, until all that your body carries is nothing but the lightness and the seductiveness that Hoseok gracefully gave you, the comfortable heft of the wings that grew because of him. 

It’s those things that drive forth your following words with the world’s ease, unabashedly. 

“You want it from the back?” 

Hoseok’s mouth parts and the look he exchanges with you should chill your blood, but it doesn’t. If anything, it boils it. The heat that wafts off it pools in your core before ascending to your imaginary wings, leaving them dripping with sweat and the dew of titillation. Hoseok’s eyes narrow, shadowed by the furrow of his brows, encouraging it all the more. 

There is it—the heady energy shift, permeated with the sweetest of berry juices, stemming from lust, from the orchard he planted in you. Strengthening your allure, steeling you from head to toe. You submit to it; kneel into it, notionally. Your elation raises from the dead—and you grin. 

“Behave.”

A pulse in your private parts. The lengthening of your expression of delight. Your wings, your muscles clench and the same winged creatures soar to your heart from your stomach, squeezing the beating flesh. You swivel on your heels, the hem of your dress rippling, exposing more of your tender skin, the ribbon in your hair following suit. 

Hoseok sucks in a breath. Your cheeks ache from the joy’s strain and it is utterly exhilarating to you. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Hoseok coos his approval and you can’t take it anymore. You let him take a few more pictures as you move around, dancing in your own way, running your fingers through your hair, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing between your legs, but to no avail. And when you sigh and face him head-on, Hoseok is already on his feet, walking towards you with a reappearing lopsided grin that forces the butterflies gnawing at your heart to go absolutely rampant. 

You’re done for. You need to take him home. You’re not even curious about how the pictures came out—you can always look at them later. 

Hoseok seems to know about your neediness because when he crosses the distance, he cups your chin. Makes you look up at him. And his smirk deepens while your heart increases in size, wings flitting at the special attention. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, caressing your skin with his thumb. Your eyes round and the heat you feel is sweltering underneath your clothes. All the more reason for him to take them off. “The pictures are great. Wanna see?” 

Biting your lip, you shake your head, briefly. “What I want is to make you breakfast,” you say, mirroring his tone, hoping he gets the hint. 

Hoseok waggles your chin, humming. “Oh, yeah?” 

Fuck. If his scolding already didn’t make you submissive, then his response and his actions have. You wet your mouth, teeth instinctively sinking back in, and only nod. Hoseok opens your coat and covers your shoulders in its warmth, pressing the cotton twill fabric against your sternum. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

A fond sound pours out of him and the fact that he likes to be called by that title heightens the pulse between your legs. “Let’s go.” 

He leads you towards the exit with a hand on the small of your back and you’re so happy to be touched at last that with a final look at the angels, you send out your silent love and goodbye to them, thank them one last time for the kindness you received because of them, one that you so ferociously sought after and longed for. 

They seem to bow to you, happy to be of service, and you smile so profoundly that you feel as though nothing could stain your joy and mar it all over again. They wouldn’t allow that to happen—and a tendril of hope burst open within you like sunlight tearing through clouds, one that is suffused with the notion that Hoseok would stand in the way, side by side with those sculptures, too.

And he does when you swivel your head back and catch a glance of someone you know. 

A piercing on the side of his brow, unchanged from the last time you saw him. Round eyes, murky. Ashen complexion that used to bloom with vibrant tints. Full, soft-toned mouth, ever so stuck in that pout, one you used to kiss until it bruised. 

Your bloodstream doesn’t cease its flow. Not until you notice the person beside him. 

A girl with an aura so cataclysmic that it forces you to stop dead in your tracks. An August night storm personified, obnoxiously sweet-smelling of the past summer that you spent with her companion. The hollow, funereal scent of a meadow doused in petrichor—she walks with it, her hands intertwined before her in a clasp. 

You wished for him to be in Hoseok’s place so ardently that he appeared. And now that you contemplate him, the lack of distance between him and the girl, it makes you regret that you ever did. 

Because, unknowingly, it drenched you in gasoline and his presence is a lighter, hers the hand that has flicked it to life and now serenely holds it against your skin, waiting until the flames, little by little, devour you whole. 

And the job is finished when both of their heads whirl, meeting your livid stare. 

And Jungkook, too, stops dead in his tracks. 

“Do you know him?” Hoseok asks and you find it strange that you can hear him when all you can see is red. 

And the red fades into the matching black shirt that Jungkook is wearing, into his bluntly pained mien; into the strands of his date’s short hair and her scrunched up brows as she regards you with a strong aversion that makes you scoff. And the same red weakens when Hoseok turns your attention to him by playing with the ends of your ribbon, grazing them before twirling them around his finger. 

A breath of fresh air, he is. 

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know whether to tell him the truth or come up with something that won’t devastate what you have currently going on with him. But if you lie to him, you’ll stumble into a dead end you’d much rather stay clear of. You’d see it before your eyes once you do take him home and it would ruin the newness he brought up with you, preventing it from taking root in you. 

Devastation awaits you in either case. Both you and Hoseok. 

Cursed, your life is. Doomed, absolutely fucking doomed. 

What would the angels do in your place? 

Seeking their wisdom behind you, it is not in them that you find your answer, but in the passing pair dressed in black, making their way over to the dark-wined room. He’s pretending he didn’t see you at all, walking away from you without saying a word, despite the fact you broke up on good terms. 

You worshiped him in this very building almost on your knees and he dismissed you as if you meant nothing to him, caring for the feelings of his date, instead. 

Peculiarly, the sentiments Hoseok installed in you, both of the passionate and the soft kind, turn that fire blue and it becomes the driving force that guides you to act without a single thought spared. 

“Yeah, I do know him. Do you mind if I quickly say hi to him?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth curls and he caresses your hair down your back one last time.  “Go, I’ll get the car ready.” 

Such a confident, strong man, broken out of the confines of his former timidness. Not possessive, nor insecure—letting you do what you want. Respectful of your personal life that doesn’t include him just yet. And for that very reason it will—as soon as you’re done putting out that fire in you. 

It’s not only you that has gone through a change upon this hour and it strikes your awe, enough for you to lean in and peck his cheek, just like he did to you. 

Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, pivots on his feet to leave you to it, but you grab a hold of his hand. Have a need to say something to him. 

His brows rise at the attention and you brush your hand across his knuckles, mimicking his previous actions, having learned them, intimately. 

“Thank you, Hoseok. Really,” you say with a smile that could magnetically pull the sunlight out of its hiding place behind the clouds and bathe this bizarre room in light. You squeeze his hand. 

A swirl of shyness flushes his face in rose pink and he shakes his head. “No need to thank me,” he assures, reciprocating the smile. “And call me Hobi. You can save Hoseok for later.” 

Your jaw falls open and Hoseok chuckles, warmly, deepening the pulse between your legs until a wet spot adorns your panties beneath your dress, one that you look forward to showing him at the aforementioned time. 

He pivots again and you watch his tall, lean figure leave. Back muscles clothed in black, straining against the fabric. He must’ve undergone his military service. 

A beautiful man. You can’t wait to taste him. Taste that manliness. 

Loosening a breath, you turn around to search for your ex-boyfriend. And much to your dismay, he’s appreciating the angel sculpture—the very one and only Hoseok took your pictures with. Fire licks at your every nerve ending, but then you notice that his date is nowhere in sight. 

A perfect opportunity to do what you want to do. 

Pulling out your phone out of your little purse, you look for his name in the history of your calls and tap on it, placing the device against your ear, your hoop earrings clashing against the screen. You watch him palm his pocket as the vibration disturbs his aesthetic pleasure and he casts a long glance at your name filling up his screen. Doesn’t comb his gaze through his surroundings. No, he seems to be transfixed by the twist of events and when he swipes his finger to accept the call, his stare begins to dig a hole into the dirty, marble floor. 

Doesn’t say anything. 

You scoff, fury grazing your fire. “You’re pretending not to know me? That’s low.” His pout rounds and the tip of his shoe traces the edges of the ruination he’s caused. Remains silent. “Who’s your little girlfriend? I thought you’d introduce me. Where is she, anyways?” 

It’s him who scoffs now and he flicks his gaze towards the face of the angel. It’s like he’s staring right at you. “You shouldn’t be doing this, little one.” 

The too familiar pet name brings agony to your heart and you would break had Hoseok not given you his strength, if the dependability of him waiting for you outside wasn’t real. And the allure and the lightness in you, perhaps the very love of the sculptures encompassing you—all of those things only vivify your solidity. You have no reason to break, you’re safe. 

“Well, I think you should be a good Daddy and meet me right there in the red room,” you seethe, glad for the anger to be lingering in you, for the utterance of the title leaving you unscathed. You’re just giving him a taste of his own poison, nothing else. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair and sighs, clenching his jaw. “Don’t call me that.” 

You chuckle, enlivened by the provocation. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, you started it.” 

He grits his teeth. “Not when you’re talking to me, you can’t.” 

Your fire rises in overwhelming waves, your curt response ready on your tongue, but Jungkook hangs up, making you shut your mouth, instantly. 

You hate him for that; hate him with the entirety of your being. 

What has happened to your friendship? To the sweet, weeping Jungkook who broke up with you because he didn’t want to cause you any more pain with the state of his mental health, who has been dealing with depression for so long that he’s reached a point of no return, a lightless room with no windows, where all he saw was you, and he didn’t want you to be a victim of such unhealthy attachment. So he bid you goodbye, hugged you until you couldn’t breathe and let you go. 

Three weeks ago. 

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since until now. Until you’ve found someone else and moved on with your life. That’s just your luck. 

And now the person you’re gazing at, it’s not the same one that wept against your chest. Yes, he might have been strict with you during intimate times, teased you with his fatherliness during the day even—but that invariably was imbued with the mellowness of love. 

Try as you may while his words ring in your headspace, you cannot unearth any trace of that same mellowness in it. Only bitterness, coldness and a profound darkness. 

Jungkook pockets his phone and, leaving both of his hands there, sunk deeply, he walks over to the wine-tinged room, his frown obscuring the place in gloom. Murky clouds, personified. A perfect match to the storm of his companion. Bile lodges inside your throat. 

You follow after him, your feet aching terribly in your boots, but it serves as some kind of alleviation to the tautness of your emotions, of your confusion, disgust and offence. Makes you feel better—because once you see Jungkook ogling a certain painting of a woman beaming at him softly, dressed in flowers, blues and greens as the redness akin to your fire burns in her background, the agony tries to slither its way inside your heart, but fails.

You’re a locked orchard. 

Jungkook senses your presence and he swivels, biting the inside of his cheek, pierced brow quirking. There’s a strain to his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he takes in your appearance. The creaminess of your short, silky dress, the darker shade of the same color of your trenchcoat slung loosely over your shoulders, exposing your brown, leather, high-heeled boots, your matching purse clutched in both of your hands as you strut towards him. Calm, all of a sudden. It does nothing to you, nothing whatsoever—your heart momentarily attached to Hoseok.

“I thought you’d already left,” he murmurs, tipping up his chin. Begins to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet, the carmine hues of the room swathing him in a deeper shade of darkness. “Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you?” 

You don’t bother to correct him. It’s none of his business who Hobi is to you, not when he treated you like a stranger.

“We were about to leave, but then I saw your actions,” you say, quite monotonously, your calmness as disturbing as it is triumphant. You yourself even wonder at it. “What the fuck was that?” 

A smirk. “Glad to know I still have some kind of effect on you.” 

You scrunch up your brows, distaste once again pooling in your mouth. “Trust me, I would’ve done this with anyone I know. You’re not special.” 

His smirk widens. “So, you’re not jealous?” He rubs the side of his jaw, staring at you, intently, and disgust comes over you like a splash of a wave, soaking you in cold sweat. 

He did it for that very reason—to make you jealous. Walked right past you, just to get a rise out of you. As much as you loved him half an hour ago, that affection turns into dust within you, sprinkling the fruit trees and the berry brushes with its gray smithereens, poisoning them. 

Ouroboros, all over again. Full circle. Anger covers your disgust. 

A voice echoes within the room. Airy and light, as feminine as it is otherworldly, and you know, without a doubt, who it belongs to. It doesn’t suit her, not in the slightest. 

“There you are,” your ex-boyfriend’s companion trails off, the clapping of her flat shoes halting. “Who are you?” 

You only turn your head to the side, signaling to her that you’ve heard her question, because you fix your stare back at Jungkook as you answer it. “It’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Can you give us a minute?” 

You don’t hear any movement, so she must be stubbornly staying where she is. All right, she can join the conversation for all you care. 

When you turn your head back around, you catch stars oozing from Jungkook’s eyes, a conveyance of adornment painting his face in gentle colors that could never be associated with this room. There it is, the face you know, so resplendent of the one you last saw. And it grazes your anger, whispers to it that it was a mistake, a game of pretense, because you’re reverently acknowledged with his soul—you know who he is. While it may explain his fucked-up behavior, you don’t soften. Not at the hint of familiarity. Not even at the hushed hint of your deduction telling you that the reason why he unmasked himself was because you chose him and didn’t run away when his companion spoiled your short time together. 

You don’t soften because you simply don’t want to. 

You don’t want to give in to any means of getting close to him. 

The chapter is finished. You shouldn’t have called him. You should’ve left with Hobi. 

You don’t wish to keep him waiting long, nor do you wish to keep sprawling in your mistake. You pivot, ready to leave, but Jungkook captures your hand. Desirousness palpitates in his eyes as if he, too, needed to tell you something of urgency. 

You’ll hear him out, but that’s the end of it. 

“Can I see you later?” he asks, pupils growing in size until they absorb his chocolate irises, his grip over your hand tight and heated. A wind blows in your orchard, sweeping away all the darkened smithereens left by the bane, freshening you up. 

You don’t really think that’s a good idea. 

“I won’t have time for you later, I’ll be with Hoseok.” 

To Hobi, you won’t lie, but the same can’t be applied to Jungkook. 

His breath hitches in his throat, disappointment weighing him down, the thought of you being intimate with someone who is not him causing his posture to slouch even more. 

But he surprises you with the words he says next. 

“I’ll wait, then. Let me know when you’re alone.” 

And you surprise yourself even more when you nod, turning on your heel and scurrying off to meet Hobi outside. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[captainsophiestark]

We're Good

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: TVD/TO

Summary: Kol meets Davina and finally seems serious about someone, so his best friend convinces herself to finally let go of her secret crush. But when Kol gets jealous of her paying attention to another guy, what once seemed settled might not actually be finished.

Word Count: 3,092

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Title is lightly inspired by the Dua Lipa song, although the fic doesn't totally fit it.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I tried not to scowl as I watched Kol from the second level of the Mikaelson compound. He was down on the dancefloor, in the middle of the latest party he and his family had decided to throw. I knew Nik or Elijah had some ulterior motive for hosting, but I hadn't cared because this time, I'd had my own ulterior motive. I'd put on my absolute best outfit and made sure I looked like a knockout, all so I could finally tell Kol Mikaelson, my longtime friend and crush, how I really felt about him.

And now, before I could, he was standing at the edge of the dancefloor trying to make a move on Davina Claire.

I should've known. Kol and I had been friends for a long time, and despite pretty regular flirty moments between us, he'd never taken any steps to make us something more serious. Instead, he flirted with, hooked up with, and even dated whatever mortal he'd most recently fallen for while I stood by pretending not to get my heart broken.

This time, I was done with it. For good.

I set my jaw and squinted, refusing to let the tears fall as I turned from the balcony. I almost made it into a hallway off the Mikaelson compound where I could disappear from everything, but of course, I couldn't quite get that lucky.

"He's a bloody idiot, you know."

Rebekah Mikaelson, my best friend in the world, stood before me with her hands on her hips, blocking my exit.

"Rebekah-"

"I'd love to have you for a sister-in-law, but you deserve better than one of my idiot brothers. As a boyfriend and as a friend."

"Bex, I don't want to hear it right now."

The sympathy on her face almost killed me, but she stepped aside. I thought that would be it, but then she called out to me just before I could turn the corner and escape this whole mess.

"Mourn all you like tonight, but tomorrow we're going out! There are plenty of men in this city to help you forget all about Kol!"

****************

Rebekah gave me exactly one day before she started hounding me about going out on the town to forget her "idiot brother". And honestly, I might've ignored her, except for the fact that Kol spent the entire day after the ball with Davina.

I'd always known he was a flirt, but this time, he actually seemed to mean it. So I gave him more space than usual, for my sake as much as his, and spent more time wih Rebekah. We baked and went on walks, and after a while, I stopped shooting her down when she tried to drag me to bars. Kol kept hanging out with Davina, but slowly, seeing them together was starting to hurt a little less. I always thought if he found a girl to get serious about, it would be me. And a tiny little part of my heart still tore to shreds when I saw how wrong I'd been. But unlike those first few days, the heartbreak wasn't eating me alive anymore.

Which is how I ended up out at a bar with the entire Mikaelson family, dancing my heart out on the dancefloor without a second thought for whether Kol would join me.

We'd first started a montly tradition of the firve of us going out and just having fun a few years ago, and despite various dramas and the siblings scattering to the winds, we'd more or less managed to keep it up. We always picked a place a few hours from where any of us were living and planned to stay the night, so we could well and truly forget everything but having a good time together. Normally, I spent the night orbiting Kol, to the point that Nik usually had a field day giving me shit about it. Tonight had been a little different.

I'd joined Nik in dragging Elijah out of the house, gone with Rebekah to order all of us some truly strange, fun cocktails, and danced the night away on the dancefloor with all of them, without my mind or gaze constantly circling back to Kol. He didn't seem to even notice the shift, and I was surprised to find that it didn't really bother me. Kol was a good friend, after all, and with a little more time to process, maybe we'd even be better off.

"Hey!" Rebekah shouted into my ear, still barley making herself heard over the music around us. We'd been here for hours, but none of us showed any signs of slowing down just yet. "That guy at the bar has been staring at you all night!"

I turned to follow her gaze and found a handsome guy looking back. He smiled, a little sheepish, and I returned the gesture before whipping around to Rebekah.

"Why are you so fixated on setting me up with somebody?"

"Because it's fun! And I haven't got to do it once in all the time I've known you because you've been so hung up on Kol. So come on, let me have my fun!"

I made a face. I wasn't sure I wanted to take a chance on the random person Rebekah had found, regardless of me finally being over Kol. She huffed, then leaned in to speak in my ear again.

"Just trust me! I compelled him and asked him some questions, and he seems like someone you'd get along quite well with!"

I closed my eyes. "You compelled him, Rebekah? Seriously?"

"Well how else was I supposed to make sure he wasn't some sleezy werewolf or something? Go on, just talk to him!"

"Fine! Fine, but it's still our Mikaelson Family Fun Day, so I'm just going to talk."

"That's fine with me! Although I promise not to judge you if you don't come back to the room tonight-"

I picked up the nearest thing I could find (a stack of napkins) and hucked it at her, which she easily dodged. I did my best to ignore her laughing behind me as I headed for the bar.

The guy smiled as I approached him, and I smiled back. I headed for an open spot standing next to him at the bar, and he started speaking as soon as I came within hearing range.

"Hey! I've been hoping you'd come over and say hi all night."

I smiled. "Why didn't you come over and say hi yourself?"

"Didn't want to interrupt you and your friends if you didn't want to be bothered," he said with a shrug. "Although, that girl Rebekah tried awfully hard to get me to come over once or twice."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Rebekah loves nothing more than meddling, especially in my life." I paused. "I'm glad she convinced me to come over and talk to you though."

"So am I! I-"

He broke off at the same time as I felt someone slide up to the bar behind me, chest almost pressed into my back. I started to turn around to tell whoever it was to back off, but a familiar voice spoke up before I could.

"Why don't you go find someone else to bother, mate?" said Kol, his tone laced with the slightest undercurrent of a threat. Apparently, he'd decided to make sure he got what he wanted, because a moment later the guy whose name I hadn't even been able to get yet turned on his heel and walked away.

I rounded on Kol with a furious scowl, but he just grinned back at me, still very close and in my personal space. Normally, the proximity would've left me with butterflies, but right now all I felt was anger growing in the pit of my stomach.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked, an edge to my voice that I'd really never directed at Kol before. His eyebrows shot up, but otherwise, he didn't seem bothered.

"I was getting rid of that creep who was bothering you. Come on, darling, I thought you'd be thanking me-"

"Thanking you? Kol, he clearly wasn't bothering me! I came up to him, for God's sake!"

"Well I'm sorry, it just looked like you might want me to step in-"

"How? How did it look like that, Kol?"

My voice was getting louder now, enough that a few people were starting to take notice, but I didn't care. I was furious at my so-called friend and he was going to hear about it.

Kol cleared his throat. "Love, maybe we should take this somewhere else-"

"Knock it off with the pet names! Kol seriously, what the fu-"

In a split second, the bar disappeared around me. Instead, I found myself thrown over Kol's shoulder as he vampire-sped out of the bar. When we finally stopped, it was just inside the front door of the house we'd all rented, with Kol's back to me as he closed the front door.

I took my opening and hurled the nearest pillow at his head. It hit its target dead on, and I got halfway through picking up another one when Kol used his vamp speed to close the distance between us and grab my wrist.

"Hey! Knock it off, alright? What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? Are you kidding me Kol?" I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh, cry, scream, or all three, but I focused on the screaming part as I faced a bewildered Kol. "You absolute hypocrite, how dare you pull me out of that bar, and how dare youstep into my conversation like that!"

"What? Is this seriously all about me scaring off that one guy? You hardley knew him!"

"Obviously it's not completely about him, although that move still sucked, Kol! It's about you thinking you have some right to barge into my life and scare off a guy who might be interested in me! Because that's what it was, right? There's no way you thought I wanted him gone, so you did all this because you wanted him gone, right?"

"...I- I guess I didn't really like seeing him with you, but-"

"But nothing! Kol, we've had just a kind of flirty friendship forever. And whenever it seemed like we might be heading into something else, you were always the one to bail out. And last month, when you found Davina and got serious about someone else, it ripped my heart out. But I forced myself to take some time and get over it! Because that's your choice, and I care about you regardless of if you want to date me. But Kol, you have been clearly, specifically going after Davina lately. Which means you have absolutely no right to come tell some guy at the bar to back off when he's flirting with me."

"Darling, come on-"

I held up a hand to cut Kol off. The storm of emotions had finally started calming, hardening into something more manageable. I'd let myself struggle in this relationship without ever having an up front conversation for far too long. We were going to set some boundaries and have it all out, whether or not Kol wanted to. I was done with the rollercoaster ride.

"Kol, I know you call a lot of people 'darling', but if you want to stay friends with me then I'm going to need you to stop calling me that."

Kol just stared at me for a few moments, blinking and apparently processing everything I'd just said. His eyebrows knit together and he looked seriously distressed, but I refused to back down. After a moment, he took a half step towards me, his hand reaching out slightly towards my own.

"...And what if I don't think I want to be friends anymore, darling?"

I scoffed, another overwhelming wave of anger rising up and over me. I shook my head and turned around, walking a few steps away and hoping the space would help me cool down.

"You better not be flirting with me right now, Mikaelson, after everything I just said and everything you've been up to with Davina lately."

"Davina and I aren't together, love. We went on a few dates after Nik's little party, but we've hardly seen each other since then, and I don't intend to keep anything going. You might have noticed, but you started avoiding me after the ball and I had no idea why."

I turned to face Kol at last, scanning his face for any hint of something that might help me make up my mind on how to feel about all this. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and I scowled.

"I wish you'd said something earlier about this little crush of yours, honestly. I didn't think I had a shot in hell with you. It would've saved us both some time."

I shook my head, slowly at first and then much much faster. Before I completely realized what I was doing, I crossed the room and smacked Kol in the chest. He was one of the oldest vamipres to ever live, so it didn't have much of an impact on him, but it definitely made me feel better.

"Kol Mikaelson, you jackass! You do not get to use this as an excuse to confess feelings for me!"

He laughed, holding up his hands and clearly fighting a beaming smile. I slowly tapered off my assault, instead opting for crossing my arms and absolutely fuming at him.

"Seriously, Kol, this isn't funny. I show interest in someone else for the first time in our friendship, and all of a sudden you're dropping everything to come and confess feelings for me? You get why I don't feel like that's completely sincere, right?"

Kol sighed, the smile finally falling off his face. He moved to close the distance between us again, and this time, I let him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not joking because it's a joke to me, I promise. I've had feelings for you as long as I've known you, darling, but I didn't think I had a chance with you. And you've been important to everyone in our family for just about as long as we've known you. If I made things complicated, or made you want to stop spending time with all of us, my siblings would've literally killed me."

I snorted, looking down so Kol wouldn't see me fighting a smile off my face. No matter what, Kol always seemed able to make me smile when I least wanted to. Normally, it was one of my favorite things about him.

"What can I do, hm? What can I do to prove I mean what I'm saying?"

I sighed, crossing my arms and at last looking up at Kol. With wide eyes and no hint of the sardonic smile I knew so well, he looked more serious than I'd ever seen him before.

"...If you're really sure about this, Kol, that you really mean this...?"

"I do. Darling, I swear I do. I promise you, I won't waste the chance if you give me one."

"Okay, then prove it. I've never seen you go more than a week without flirting with some human, witch, vampire, werewolf, or whatever other sentient beings we come across. Make it a month, and maybe I'll believe what you said about being serious about this."

"...And will we be dating for that month?"

Slowly, I shook my head. "No. I want to, Kol, and I want that to be where this goes, but... I need to see that this is real first. I want to believe it is, so badly, but after centuries of meaningless flirting and dancing around each other without a conversation, of seeing you have flings every chance you get and watching each one of those burn out... I can't just take it on faith."

Kol sighed, glancing down at the ground before meeting my eyes again. He didn't say anything, just closed the little remaining distance between us as he brought his arms up to circle my waist. He pulled me to him, leaning down with a glance at my lips, and I didn't stop him as he pulled me into a kiss.

Fireworks exploded in my chest. My knees went a little week as I leaned further into Kol, resting my hands on his shoulders. After a few long moments, just as my common sense started returning to tell me what a mistake this was, Kol pulled back with a grin.

"Sorry, darling. But I couldn't wait a month to do that."

I snorted and shook my head, stepping carefully out of Kol's grip. He watched my every move with a smile, and my heart did a backflip when he licked his lips. I told my heart to calm the hell down.

"I... certainly didn't mind the potential preview," I admitted.

Kol laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at me.

"This is going be the longest month of my life... but if that's what it'll take, I'll make it through. I know it'll be worth it, especially now."

I rolled my eyes, but this time, I couldn't quite keep a smile off my face. Finally, my heart started returning to a normal pace, and I managed to meet Kol's eyes again without having a cardiac event.

"Alrlight, so... what do we do now? I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to go back to the bar."

"Is that a joke, darling?" He raised an eyebrow at me, but I just shook my head. His mouth dropped open like he couldn't believe I was serious. "I may not get to do the activity I most want to do right now for another month, but I did just get my best friend back after extensive radio silence. We have so many episodes of our favorite shows to catch up on!"

"...You didn't watch them without me?"

"Of course not! Did you watch them without me?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then, there you have it! That's our evening. You make the popcorn, I'll turn on the tv."

I laughed as Kol turned on his heel, getting immediately to work. I still wanted to wait the month I'd made him promise; I still wasn't confident his romantic affections wouldn't wander. But despite all that, a massive weight lifted off my chest as I headed into the kitchen for snacks. I had my best friend back, and finally, after a ridiculous amount of waiting and dancing around each other and poor communication, we were actually getting a shot at our happy ending.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[hardstrawberrygardener]

HOUSE CALL

Tags: Zayne x reader, fluff, domestic, beginnings of a relationship?

Warnings: mentions of blood, reader gets a wittle hurt

Synopsis: So grocery shopping went a little crazy, nothing a little house call from your primary care physician can't fix.

Author's note: hiyah! First time writing and posting a complete fic, sorry for any mistakes, and uhhhhh Zayne is my pookie, what can I say?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The rain had gotten temperamental over the last hour, swinging from drizzle to torrential in a matter of minutes. On any other day this would have lulled you to sleep but the itch of the cuts on your ribs and the flecks of dried blood under your fingernails were a sensory nightmare.

You’d spent the last half hour just catching your breath on your now slightly blood-stained couch, recounting the incident that left you oh so pained and disgruntled.

A wanderer attack in the middle of your grocery shopping disrupted you mid deliberation on which snack to treat yourself to, and in the flurry of dodging claws and diverting the wanderer’s attention from terrified shoppers you slipped on the slick, just-mopped, floors, allowing the monster to graze you with its serrated pincers.

The pain was akin to the worst papercut you’d ever had, times a billion and as wide as a discount banana. It really hurt. And the oncoming migraine was really not ideal. The knocking in your head was becoming louder, too loud. Like, someone actually knocking on your door.

Begrudgingly you push yourself off the couch and walk, or really hobble to your front door; the source of the knocking. A confused peak through the peephole and your stomach drops, cause if there’s one thing worse than getting hurt, it’s your primary care physician catching you getting hurt.

“Hey...” You crack the door open, enough to show your face, which you hope didn’t look as bad as you felt. “I wasn’t expecting you here…”

He’s sporting the usual aloof look, scanning what he can see and deducing that you’re hiding the worst from him.

“Your wound will get infected if you don’t clean it.” Blunt and on the dot. As expected of the infallible Dr. Zayne.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond and pushes the door the rest of the way open. Too exhausted to deny it, you simply step aside and follow him to your kitchen like a little duckling.

He’s already pulled out a first-aid kit, the one he gifted you himself after the last late night house call. You walked in while he was washing his hands and he’s not looking at you when he tells you to sit.

You plant yourself on the closest chair and he brings a bowl filled with water and a rag soaking in it.

“Lift your shirt.”

“Is this covered under my insurance plan?”

“Unfortunately, this is out of your service, you’ll have to pay out of pocket.” He gets on his knees so he's eye level with your wound.

“Gasp! Can I afford this? Doctor, please I hav-” Your monologue was interrupted by a candy he had unwrapped and popped into your mouth. Mhmm strawberry flavored.

“The patient needs to behave.”

Given that he’s still bantering with you, the injury must not look that bad.

Any response you would have had is cut off by the sting and shock of the cold rag he’s gently wiping across your ribs.

Silence fills the air and in the calm it finally hits you.

“Wait, how did you know I got hurt?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Opting instead to search for a gauze and scissors to cut it to size.

“I didn't. It was a lucky guess.”

“Huh?”

“I heard news of a wanderer attack near your place. ”

“That doesn't necessarily mean I'd get hurt?”

His fingers ghost over your skin as he finishes taping the gauze. Your eyes follow the trail of his hands. Large and littered with scars from his time on the field. Hands that have saved so many lives. Lost in your thoughts you almost miss the next thing he says.

“-Take off your clothes.”

“Excuse me?!”

He sighs and gets off his knees, now towering over you. He looks down and you think you see just the smallest hint of amusement on his face, but you blink and it's gone.

“I said,” he pauses and leans in closer, “you're still in your bloody uniform, you need to take off your clothes.”

“Ah.” Your mouth is dry as you mentally reprimand yourself for assuming he had meant something else.

“Do you need me to carry you to your room?”

“Nope.”

And with that you are on your feet, scurrying over to your room. You're changed and in much comfier attire in no time. Meanwhile, Zayne has since been inspecting your fridge.

He closes the door and you can already hear the lecture he's about to give.

“Before you say anything, I was going to buy groceries, BUT, the wanderer sort of distracted me.”

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before pulling out his phone. Deft fingers tapping on the screen.

“The food will be here in 30 minutes, you should drink water and rest in the meanwhile.”

“Huh?”

He walks off to grab a glass and fills it with water before coming back to escort you to your couch. Instructing you to finish the drink. His eyes hone in on the blood stains and his brows furrow but he doesn’t say a word.

He walks back to the kitchen, dampens another rag, and squeezes a few drops of soap on top. Before you can stop him, he’s kneeling on one knee and making quick work of the stains and patting the spot dry.

“Zayne, you’re being so domestic. Do you do this for all your patients?”

He places the rag on your coffee table and turns to you, and for the first time you’re actually looking down on his face.

You stare, taking in his eyes, a shade of honey green that you could spend hours poring over, like an ever-shifting image of a galaxy. When did you get so poetic?

The rain’s pitter patter and the soft ambience of lamplight make this feel like a scene out of a movie, the yellow glow softening his sharp features. He reaches over and palms your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheekbones.

“Only for my most reckless patients.”

You can feel the rise of your chest, the fluttering of your heart, and swallow slowly; eyes wander all over his face.

It’s only now that you notice that his hair is a little damp. You inch closer and you catch his eyes lower to your lips. Time moves at that infuriatingly slow speed like you’re dreaming, and the- DING DONG!

Delivery. Mood shaken, and sudden realization of what was about to happen, you both stand and look away. Zayne beats you to the door and grabs the food from the clueless delivery guy as you try your best to not stare daggers at him.

You go to set the table for two, but Zayne interrupts you.

“I have to go soon.”

“What?” Your disappointment clear.

“I just got a message, there’s a patient under critical condition I ought to check on.”

He places the food on the table, and you grab his hand to stop him.

“Wait, you ordered the food, you should take it.”

“I ordered it for you.” He replies cooly.

“Zayne!”

You can see that he has no intention of taking any of it with him and admit defeat.

“Fine. But I’m taking you out to lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles and gently pats your head. “I look forward to it.”

You walk him over to your door and hand him an umbrella, the rain still pattering outside. He turns to you and gestures for you to come closer.

Confused you inch closer and lean into him. His hand finds its way back to your cheek and he places a quick soft kiss on your forehead.

“This will do for now.” He smirks and walks away before your brain is able to process what just happened.

“For now?!” You barely manage to yell at him before he rounds the corner and disappears down the hallway.

Mouth agape, you’re about to go running after him but are promptly reminded of your injured state by a sudden stab of pain.

“Zayne!” You’re not sure if he can hear you, but you don’t care. The fluttering in your heart has you almost floating as you giggle and close the door.

You grab your phone and shoot him a message.

You: You’re bad for my heart.

Zayne: Good thing I’m your doctor.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: I decided though no fault of my own, to make a Mortarion fic. I had some ideas I wanted to do, and wanted to write him more. I'm not happy with it, but I just wanted something to be FINISHED. I wanted to post something instead of staring at a half finished doc for an hour. This actually was far longer, but I ended up cutting off chunks like a bad plastic surgery XD I have a bunch of full NSFW stuff coming soon, sorry for the wait lol

Summary: Mortarion yearns for someone who he believes he'll never have, only to learn you feel very much the same.

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd but not full nsfw, Size difference, Kind of a beauty and the beast undertones with Mortarion thinking he's dirty and gross and is going to stain you

Mortarion barely remembers the first time he'd met you. He attempted to block it out of his memory, cast it away; He'd assumed that he'd never see you again. You were just one face in a sea of unpronounceable numbers.

The second time however, he remembers far more vividly.

You'd spent the entire time indulging him with pointless chatter, asking of his homeworld, his legion; You even asked him if he had a favorite drink. The question stumped him more than forming the plans of some of his most hard fought battles ever had.

No one had asked it before; It was such a stupid, pointless, human question, one that he responded to with a quiet I don’t know when he came up empty.

He instinctively wanted to walk away, cast all this as stupid and meaningless, but he found himself staying still as you continued to indulge him with a almost forbidden feeling taste of normalcy. He's gone so long without conversation that wasn't filled with undertones of violence and conquest.

When the sky had started to turn purple, you had dared to ask if you'd see him again, promising you'd meet him here. And he wanted to ignore it, despite the way his chest tightened at the thought.

You were just saying it to be kind. Who would want to see him?

But he still stood in that same damn spot, staring at nothing and waiting. He felt like a fool, but he still did it anyways.

You did eventually show, racing down the hall and stumbling to your knees right in front of him when your feet caught the front of your dress. Your Lord had a million and one things to ask of you, you'd said. The sentence made Mortarion's mouth sour, but he didn't say anything.

You both ending up talking for hours that day; When someone had come to get you, to scold you for being late again, Mortarion had cast them a glare and told them off, telling them you were busy. They wilted under the gaze of a primarch and shuffled off, but you looked even more worried than when they had first arrived. You left a few minutes later, apologizing profusely to him before scurrying off to placate some surely worthless Lord. You deserved better.

The fourth time he saw you, you'd said that your lord hadn't been happy with you being tardy so much. You didn't smile at all that time, until it was time for you to leave. Mortarion had enough pieces of the puzzle to figure that weren't getting treated with the respect he thought you deserved; His hand cracked the marble railing with his grip.

Mortarion then softly asked for your Lord's name, and you looked at him confused before responding.

Perhaps if he was a more impulsive man, he would've done something else. But he didn't want to frighten you, and so he only made it so no lord would breath down your neck again.

The way he did such a thing was to take you for the Death Guard; But he wouldn't tell you that. At least not now. He didn't want you to think he was now your owner, and the genuine relationship that had been planted become tied to a trellis and forced into form.

And so when you returned to him again and happily explained that your debt to your lord was paid, that you were free, Mortarion gave nothing other than a curt nod.

But while he had already done so much for you, he hated that he had done it so easily; That he was already so deeply attached to you. But the fact that you'd not only spent time with him of your own accord, but seemed to enjoy it? To want to be near him? Mortarion would embarrass himself more with the things he would do to keep you this close to him.

Especially as time passed, and what had become friendly, meaningless conversations had turned into something with far more meaning, at least to him. He had begun to talk with you about things that no mortal should hear; About his legion, about himself and the other primarchs; His own doubts about the Emperor. You listened to them all and while you could never truly sympathize with him, your comfort gave him more than he's ever felt before.

He'd thought it simply desperation for even the simplest companionship at first after a life so lonely, until one day he had told you some of his history on Barbarus and you'd- upon the conclusion of his talking- had given him a small hug in a silent gesture. He knew in that moment that his feelings went far deeper than he had originally thought.

But he had no doubt that you would never feel that same way about him. You enjoy his companionship, sure he can see that, but the idea of someone wanting his rotten, soulless husk of a body as their lover is a miserable bit of hope that he doesn't even want to entertain lest it get shattered before his eyes.

But throne, that doesn't stop him from thinking about it. About how your skin must be so soft to the touch, how your smile is so warm; He wonders what you might sound like as he slipped his hand between your thighs. His nightmares have waned, but only to have been replaced by dreams that have him waking up sweating and painfully hard.

That wanting had continued for months and Mortarion had almost gotten at peace with it, until you managed to surprise him again.

He had been explaining to you something about Barbarus, about his role of primarch. How despite such a grandiose title, The Pale King was seen as little more than a failure from the start by most of the other primarchs.

You'd shocked him however, by politely speaking up.

"You have so many titles, you're just Mortarion to me."

The look he'd given you was of the most pure, genuine surprise.

Moments later he'd then knelt down as close to your level as he could get, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you to him before pressing his lips to yours.

Your arms tightly wrapped around his neck like he was going to push you away at any time, no matter how much he would never even consider doing such a thing. He loved the feeling of your tight grip, the way it made him feel wanted. He tested his own limits by brushing the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip, feeling the way you softly sigh and parted your lips for him. He cautiously explored your mouth feeling the way you pressed your lips against him harder; You tasted sweet, just like your favorite drink you'd told him about.

Mortarion's lips then left yours with a soft pop, leaving you catching air after so long of being denied it. When he pulled away, your face looked noticeably warmer and your lips were still parted, panting softly. Your eyes glanced away for a moment.

"I, I'm glad you feel the same. I was too afraid to say it myself."

Mortarion looked at you with a furrowed brow.

"For how long?" You pursed your lips.

"The third time we spoke, when you told me about Barbarus, I kept forgetting what I was going to say. I just wanted to stay there forever."

Mortarion had felt his heart almost stopped. To hear that you desired him before he even desired you, that you wanted him not out of pity, but of genuine attraction... He can't deny it either, he heard your heart in his ears, smelled the way you've gotten sweeter.

He knows he's disgusting. That he's rotten, that the taint of Barbarus had poisoned him; That he stands in the shadow of better men like Sanguinius, Horus, Guilliman. And yet you still want him despite it all.

You want him. You genuinely, truly want for him. Not just as a confidant, or perhaps a dear friend; You want to be with him, for him to fuck you. To touch you, ruin you, defile you.

You want him more and more, your face looked hot and he could feel your hands tight in his hair.

"I might hurt you."

Even kneeling he's still taller than you, his strength could kill you if he wasn't careful. Your fingers shifted on his neck.

"I want to try." You pursed your lips again. "And if we need to, we can get creative."

How did he get here? How did he despite all the odds find someone who wanted him? Who’s willing to figure out a compromise just to feel him?

You had yelped when he picked you up, taking you back to his personal quarters with no warning or fanfare.

On Terra each of the Primarchs had their own wings, compete with both custodes and their own legion guards. Both of those factions gave him confused looks when he walked straight to his innermost quarters with a baseline human they had zero knowledge of and slammed the door, locking it tight.

He gently tossed you onto his bed and you bounced, unable to stop your laugh. When he crawled over you however, even his lanky limbs still covered you in complete shadow, as you looked up at him quietly. You were so small.

He leaned down to press his lips against your neck, and internally scolded himself. He feels like he’s pretending or mimicking, and he feels so stupid. But you let out a soft sigh and tilted your head to give him more, and he at least thinks that it’s working. That's all that he wanted.

You were just so soft underneath him, so small and cute and begging for him with no cares about the repercussions of it. He pulled off the dress you wore with a few smooth motions and tossed it aside, before his own shirt followed suit.

But he was still remembering that he's never done this before. He doesn't want to look stupid. He doesn't want to disappoint you; After months and months of what had felt like the most unique torture you could put someone under. Torture strong enough to nearly crack a Primarch. Who would've thought it existed.

"Mortarion..."

You speak so softly, his name slides off your lips like you were spilling wine as he gently abused the soft skin on the side of your neck with his teeth.

"Say it again."

If you had listened closely, you could hear a shake in his voice as his lips moved against your throat.

"Mortarion..."

He felt his cock throb in his trousers. Your hands gripped at him so softly, even though it felt like you’re putting all of your strength into it.

An odd thing for him to lament about his primarch nature; Your nails or teeth with never leave marks on him. He would love nothing more than to have them, to feel the way they ache. Perhaps one of his fellow Primarchs might see them, and know he has something they cannot.

His hands were almost shaking as he removed his trousers, watching you keenly as you looked up at him.

You were so unafraid, and so eager. He never thought he'd see someone like this. Let alone you. All of those wandering thoughts he had alone are within reach, and in his desire to have them all he keeps you away until the sun is rising, and only then do you both finally get some rest.

"Mortarion."

He heard his name whispered in his ear, before a laugh followed. His eyes flickered behind his lids as he slowly awoke; It’s been far too long since he’s indulged in true sleep.

"Morty~"

He opened his eyes, and sees you leaning over him. He acts slightly irritated, but within himself he's conflicted over the feeling of seeing someone when he wakes up.

Your hands press against the pale skin of his chest as you lean slightly on him. He could see you were still a bit sleepy yourself, as you wrinkled your nose.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

His hollow cheeks shift as he swallowed the sticky morning taste in his mouth.

"No." He raises a hand and cups your jaw for a moment. "What did I say?" His hand falls back down. Nothing that would unsettle you, he hopes. He doesn't realize until this moment that he's glad he didn't have one of his night terrors this time; He could've very easily hurt you. Maybe even killed you. The thought makes his stomach sour.

"I couldn't understand most of it. You were mumbling." He silently expresses relief.

“Good.” You roll your eyes. Your stomach grumbles a moment later however, and Mortarion perks.

“You’re hungry? I’ll have the serfs get you something.” He moves to leave, but you grab his wrist before he does.

“Will you come back? I want to stay in bed with you for a bit longer… if you don’t mind.”

He stares at you for a moment.

He’ll feed you, and make sure you never go hungry. He’ll make sure you are no longer indebted to your lord, and you’ll never have to slave away for him. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, now that you’ve showed him so much kindness; so much want and desire.

“Yes. I’ll be back soon.”

[thewulf]

So Clueless || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - I do want to add to your plate if you don't mind 😬 can I request a hotch x younger!reader fic where it's years after WITSEC and his retirement and he's remarried to someone younger he met at his new, normal person job... Read Rest Here

A/N: I'm back!! Loved writing this one so much! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.8k+

You never planned to change your last name if you ever got married. You came through on that plan after falling in love and marrying Aaron Hotchner. He, in his early fifties, and you, a little younger than that, fell in love quickly after meeting at work when he started there almost ten years prior. You were a zookeeper and Aaron was your area manager, the rest was quite literally history.

The two of you hid the secret relationship until he was moved elsewhere in the zoo finally allowing you to come out with it. Dating turned to an engagement turned to marriage. You became Jack’s, now 17, stepmom and brought in his younger brother, Riley who just turned 9, and sister, Madison who was 7, not too long after the two of you tied the knot. Weeks turned to months turned to years and you loved your life, you really did. But the kids were getting older, and you needed a bit of a challenge. Aaron joked about you joining the FBI and the idea stuck. You weren’t a profiler, no, but you would make a damn good communications liaison. You’d basically become that for the zoo you were working at anyway. Your position of zookeeper gradually shifted to communications lead throughout the park.

Your plan was put on hold until one fateful afternoon when you saw the elusive job posting come through to your inbox. You just kept rereading the job posting before making sure your resume was up to date. You wanted to apply but decided to wait for Aaron to make sure it looked as good as possible. He worked there for years, he had to have some tricks up his sleeve.

It wasn’t a few hours later that all three of your children and Aaron came bounding through the front door off to do whatever they had planned. You’d always offered to pick the kids up from their various sports practices after work, but Aaron often refused, he wanted to spend the time with them. You could only imagine how guilty he felt about missing out on Jacks start of life. He refused to miss out on any of Riley’s or Maddie’s.

“Sweetheart.” Aaron kissed your cheek as you finished putting dishes in the dishwasher.

“Hi hon.” You hugged his side pulling him into your embrace, “How was your day?” Laying your head on his chest you looked up to him with all the love in your eyes.

“Pretty uneventful. Mandy and Anthony were at each other’s necks again. The animals behaved better than people, the usual.” He hugged you back brushing a few strands of stray hair from your eyeline.

This was his favorite part of the day, spending time with you. The fact that he knew he got to come home to you warmed his heart. Too often before he spent time in hotel rooms instead of his own bed. Oh, how he loved his own bed.

You grinned, “They just need to hook up already. For everybody’s sanity’s sake.”

“Y/N!” He laughed squeezing your side.

You pulled away from him shrugging, “What? You know they only bicker like that for one reason. They both need to just need to get it over with. I think Tammy said she was going to kill one of them sooner or later if they don’t shut the hell up. Her words, not mine.” You pulled a beer out of the fridge handing it to him. It was a Friday night, neither of you had any commitments in the morning, why not get your husband a little tipsy?

He took it from you, happily, “Cheers.”

You clinked glasses with him giving him nothing but a happy smile.

“Anything we’re drinking for something?” He raised an eyebrow, surely profiling you.

Letting your head nod up and down you laughed softly, “How do you always know?”

He smiled walking closer to you, “It was once my job to notice.” He pulled you back into his embrace by looping a finger through your jean belt loop, pulling you right towards him.

“Speaking of that.” You leaned your chin on his chest looking up at him with a smile. You didn’t miss his eyebrow raise in curiosity, “Job opening just came through.” Handing him your phone you waited for him to say something, anything. He knew how hard you’d been working to set yourself up as the most desirable candidate. Often going to lectures and seminars. Inserting yourself in the world you were so far away from. Going to go get a criminal communications degree at the FBI’s favorite school, Georgetown. You wanted more, needed more than what you were stuck doing.

He nodded giving you another once over, “Honey are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” You smiled, “I finally graduated with my criminal communications degree. I’ve outgrown my position at the zoo. I think it’s perfect timing Aaron.”

“Okay sweetheart. Let’s go get that resume cleaned up.” He reached for your hand ready to get down to business. He’d do anything for you, and this was what you wanted so that made it what he wanted too.

You weren’t sure how much Aaron had helped but you knew it had to be more than he was admitting to. He claimed he simply gave Prentiss and Strauss a call to put in a good word. You knew it was more than that when you got the compensation offer for far more than you’d discussed. You weren’t going to question it though. Your mom always told you never to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You’d have assumed Aaron had told somebody of your relation to him. That assumption was soon to be proven untrue when you met the infamous BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss from all of Aaron’s stories who was clearly trying to figure you out. When she asked you, “Are you married?” You knew she hadn’t a clue who you were. This was so Aaron to keep his two lives completely separated. A little heads up would’ve been nice though.

“I am. I have a stepson and two kids with him.” You smiled wondering how long you could play this game until they figured it out.

Emily smiled pressing the elevator button going up, “What are their names?” She was just being friendly. Knowing she was childfree for good reason.

You knew it wouldn’t give you away in the slightest, but it gave you the slightest thrill to speak his name out loud, “Jack is my stepson. Riley and Maddie are my younger two.” You pulled out a picture that strategically hid the younger Hotchner’s face showing it to Emily.

“They’re adorable.” She handed the phone back to you.

“Do you have any?” You asked knowing the answer. It felt odd knowing everything about her, yet she hadn’t a clue who you were. But you had to play stupid, or you’d make it pretty obvious something was up.

She shook her head, “No. But I have six agents that act like it sometimes.” She shot you a wink letting you get out of the elevator first. You got along great with the team after quickly recognizing JJ, Spencer, Morgan, and Penelope from Aaron’s pictures. Playing dumb was getting harder and harder throughout the day when you let it slip that your husband’s name was Aaron and that his son Jack had just gotten his license in a story you were retelling. Something they had just been told by him not that long ago. Surprisingly nobody picked up on anything, not that you could tell anyway. You weren’t a profiler but being married to one had you pick up on the small things that people normally glossed over.

When you got home that night you had Aaron howling with laughter after you detailed the day and how his old team didn’t seem to have a clue that you were in fact his wife of nearly ten years now.

“Don’t tell them. Let’s see how long it takes.” He cupped your face in his hands brushing his thumbs over your lips softly, waiting for your response.

A slight nod in his hands, “Any reason?” You asked, all too curious.

He shook his head, “Let’s see how well I trained them.” He laughed again. You joined in finding his joy more than contagious. More often than not he was in an incredible mood finding any and every reason to make you smile.

“They’re not doing so well Agent Hotchner.” You baited him. Taking a step back with a silly little smirk you watched his reaction.

He threw his hands up, “it’s only been a day sweetheart. Give them a week or two.”

“That’s a deal.” You grinned pulling his waist in for a quick kiss on the lips. Grinning when you felt him smile into the kiss. You felt those similar butterflies you always got from him. How he managed to make you swoon all these years later was beyond your wildest dreams.

They in fact did not figure it out within a week or two. It had been a month now since you started working with the BAU at the FBI and they had yet to even piece two and two together. You’d given them your whole life story minus pictures. The only good excuse you had was that you were private. It worked though. Nobody pried. You provided the same courtesy to them too. Only digging as far as they’d let you.

Aaron had even gotten his longtime friend and colleague, the one you’d actually met, Rossi to play the game. He stopped by the offices every now and then to help the team when they were in town. Retirement was great but even he had to admit he was terribly bored. He claimed he needed to keep his brain from going mushy, so he had to help on cases.

He was having all too much fun testing the team, “Y/N.” He called bringing you back to the present and away from your mind.

“Yes, Rossi?” You looked up from the stack of paperwork you were powering through, definitely your least favorite thing about the job.

“How’s your husband doing? Haven’t talked with him in a while.” He smirked knowing only you could see his face.

He wasn’t technically lying. Aaron and Dave normally spoke almost daily. They’d been missing each other this week though, “He’d good. Said he’s looking forward to seeing you and Pat this weekend.”

Morgan frowned interrupting the conversation between the two of you, “You know her husband?”

Had somebody  finally started picking up on it? How was Rossi going to talk his way out of this one?

Rossi nodded, “Oh yeah, we go back years. Friends for a long time. It’s a small world.”

Derek nodded trying to get a better read on the situation, “They’ve known each other longer than we have.” You smiled. If the team hadn’t been so overloaded he might’ve picked up on it. But he simply nodded turning back to his massive pile of bullshit he had to get done before he could leave.

“That was close.” You whispered earning a soft chuckle from the older man.

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

You waved, “See you Dave.”

“Small world? Huh?” Derek looked back up giving you a side eye almost as if he didn’t fully believe your story.

“Incredibly small.” You confirmed.

If he knew he didn’t say a word. It wouldn’t be that hard to hide if they did any sort of digging, which you were sure Penny had already done. Why she hadn’t told the whole team was a mystery unto itself. There wasn’t a chance she didn’t do a deep dive on you for Strauss before the FBI hired you. Maybe Aaron had gotten to her before you did?

You only laughed when you saw Rossi’s old pickup truck siting in your driveway as you pulled in after working later into the night. To your delight the house was quiet leading you to believe the kids were elsewhere for the weekend. Aaron always had a plan, always. Something you’d grown to love very deeply. He could take charge of any and every situation no matter how big or small.

“David, I thought you said you’d be over Sunday. Not that I’m not happy you’re here.” You grinned setting your work bag down by the kitchen island.

“That was the plan until this afternoon. Aaron needed to know how his team is missing every sign.” David poured you a glass of the chilled Pinot Grigio he brought over.

“They are busy Rossi, be nice.” You took a long sit of the cool wine.

Rossi smiled, “We have to send in the big guns Monday Aaron. Jack has to come in. Bring in Y/N’s lunch or something.”

“That’ll give it away.” You grinned setting the glass down.

He shrugged, “They’ll never figure it out at this rate.”

Aaron sighed, “I’ve got to admit. I’m a little disappointed.” The smile on his face betrayed his words though. He loved every second of this. And with Jack being off for the summer he didn’t see why he couldn’t conveniently drive him in to drop off his mom’s lunch.

The plan sprang to life when Monday rolled around. You couldn’t believe Derek had gotten up almost the second that Jack walked out of the elevator. Waving him over you didn’t notice any of your teammates watching. Unreal, what were the odds of that.

He’d almost gotten in and out unspotted, or so you thought, before Derek walked back over spotting the now grown Hotchner.

“Hey kid! What are you doing here? You grew another three inches since the last time we saw you a few months ago.” Derek roughed the teen’s hair up. You only grinned sitting in your seat, somehow he’d missed the entire interaction between the two of you.

“Just dropping off my mom’s lunch.” Jack smiled knowing what game he had to play too. The Hotchner boys were having way too much fun with all of this.

“She works here?” Derek asked, surprise evident in his voice. He didn’t suspect a thing.

“She does.” He didn’t elaborate any further knowing he’d give the whole gig up if he did, careful not to look back at you.

You watched as Derek tried to figure out who the hell it could be. Obviously it had to be somebody on the floor. It wouldn’t be long before he put it all together now, “Well I hope that means we’ll see you some more kid.”

He nodded, “When I’m not in school. See you later Derek.”

“See you Y/N.” He waved making sure not to blow his cover.

“Bye Jack.” You winked at him making sure Derek couldn’t see, “I’ll see you later.”

When you looked back over at Derek he was staring right at you, “Sweet kid.”

He nodded confirming what you had just said. Curiosity got the better of him as he asked, “Did you see who his mom was?” Missing the fact that Jack just said bye to you and knew your name.

You shook your head, “Afraid not.”

“Interesting.” He kept looking at you. Then to the lunch that was sitting at your desk then back at you. He had to know. He was far too smart not too. But he didn’t say a word.

Raising an eyebrow, you knew he was so close to connecting the dots, “What is?” Giving him a sweet smile trying your best to play it off.

“Hotchner’s kid being here. Last thing I expected to see today.” He sat down at his desk across from yours.

You bobbed your head along, “Old boss?”

Derek hummed turning back to his paperwork letting you know he was getting back to work. How he hadn’t gotten it yet was a little surprising to you but being bogged down with so much work probably did have something to do with it. You didn’t see Spencer sitting there at his own desk across the aisle listening in very closely. He did see Jack come right up to you handing you a brown paper bag before making a beeline to Rossi’s office. It didn’t take him more than two seconds after that to realize you were his old boss’s wife. How could he not have seen it? Sure, you didn’t take his last name, but he still should’ve put it together. You weren’t shy about using his and Jack’s names.

Spencer let out an audible sigh once he realized deciding to keep his mouth shut. It was clearly a game at this point. How long would it take the rest of the team to notice?

You smiled looking at the team photos on the wall in the conference room. It was fun to see Aaron in his element outside of what he does now. It was hard to believe he was so serious and rigid. So different than the carefree man he was now. The one he was allowed to be after taking the retirement deal Strauss offered him all those years ago.

“That was is 2009. We were all pretty new to the team back then. Minus Hotch and Rossi.” Spencer’s voice spoke from beside you. That drew your eyes away from your young husband and back towards him.

“You all look like babies.” You laughed scanning over the much younger faces of the team members.

Spencer smiled, “I’d like to say we were naïve too, but we were years into it at that point. We’d seen it all, how awful humanity could be.”

You couldn’t fully understand Aaron’s stories until you had gotten here. This team truly saw the worst of the worst and stories only told you so much. In just your month here you fully understood. You got why he cautioned you. You could certainly handle it. It didn’t make it any easier though.

“Yeah, at least you had each other right?” You asked.

“Couldn’t have done it without them.” He turned pointing towards Aaron, “Without him. He did a lot for us. Miss him a lot sometimes.”

“He’s handsome.” You grinned not thinking Spencer had a clue of his relation to you.

He ignored you asking his own question, “Did you change your last name when you got married?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, too much of a hassle now a days. My friend got into a legal nightmare with taxes when everything didn’t switch over properly.”

He laughed softly enjoying your rambling, “What’s his last name then. Aaron what? Don’t think you ever told us, Y/N.” He leaned back on the wall grinning like a little Cheshire cat.

Busted. He had to have known. Do you tell him? Might as well, “Hotchner.” You bit your cheek to hide the little smile that was threatening to spill over.

He clapped his hands together, “I knew it.”

“Course you figured it out.” You laughed seeing the excitement of being right cross his face, “What gave it away?”

“Jack dropping off your lunch.” He scratched the back of his head, “It’s a little embarrassing I didn’t figure that out sooner.”

You shrugged, “It’s not like I’ve met you before. Plus, we’re more than a little busy here.”

“Is that why we didn’t get an invite to the wedding? He wanted to hide that side of his life away?” A flash of what looked like hurt crossed his face before a neutral expression took over.

You shook your head quickly, “Our parents didn’t even get an invite. It was just me, Jack, and Aaron.” You bumped your hip against his trying your best to reassure him.

Relief washed over, “Small wedding.”

You laughed, “Very intimate. We’d both already done the big fancy weddings. We wanted to make it just about us. It was incredible.” You admitted to him. Divulging another aspect of your life to him that had yet to come up. You’d gotten married and divorced. Married far too young with no plan didn’t make for a very loving and lasting relationship.

“Wait.” Derek’s booming voice came from the entrance of the conference room, “You’re married to Hotch?”

You spun around on your heal facing Derek and the team behind him with equally confused expressions, “Guilty as charged.” You smiled at them. You had to start laughing seeing all their expressions go from confusion to recognition to acceptance.

“Finally!” Penny let out a rather large sigh of relief, “I’ve been hiding that for far too long.” She shot you a wink.

Derek cocked his head to the side, “Why didn’t you say something baby girl?”

You spoke up for her knowing he was about to try and guilt trip her, “It was Aaron’s idea. Rossi and I just played along. Penny’s good at keeping secrets.” You returned her wink noting Rossi’s absence. He’d be so annoyed he missed this.

Derek’s jaw looked like it was about to hit the floor, “Well I guess it’s nice to formally meet you Mrs. Hotchner.”

Shaking your head you responded with a big cheesy grin on your own face, “He thinks he failed you all at this rate. We had a bet that you’d get it within two weeks. He took the under.”

“Don’t look so smug Hotchner lite.” He took two fingers and pointed them right at you.

The entire room erupted at that one, “Hotchner lite. I like that one.” You answered him once all the laughter died down.

“Alright,” Emily commanded the attention back from the room, “Hotch owes us all a round after pulling that little stunt.”

“That he does.” You agreed, “He said your all invited over once you figure it out. Consider this the formal invitation.” The team agreed before the day started and the case was given. Fortunately, the case was local.

When you got home late that night you found your husband quickly wrapping him in a big hug before spilling the details of your day. He stood there listening to every word like it could be your last. Just another thing you adored about him. He just made you feel so cherished and adored.

“Of course, it was Reid.” Aaron chuckled once you finished the story, “For as smart as they all are they can be so clueless sometimes.”

“That’s what I said!” You joined in the laughter with him as the two of you snuggled in on the couch. Neither of you making a move to turn on the TV, just enjoying each other’s presence. Leaning your head down on his chest your eyes drifted shut listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I love you sweetheart, get some sleep.” He ran his hands through your hair knowing that’d knock you right on out.

“Love you.” You mumbled before falling asleep on top of him, happier than ever with the way your life seemed to just fall into line.

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