#And the fact he was also bouncing his leg while sitting at that desk

[artsy-n-smartsy]

I LOVE that it's canon that Scout likes to draw, I love it I love it so much. Dang it I wish there were more instances of him drawing and doodling.

[heesimp]

I lwk keep imagining Heeseung doing a livestream and you’re just sitting there bored and decide to give him head when he’s talking to his fans like>>>> help😭��🙏

HOT. au where idol!heeseung’s sextape gets leaked so he becomes a pornstar instead. bye

also I thought about this tiktok/live the entire time I wrote this ha

-

“What time is it for me? Oh, I think it’s midnight…Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

Heeseung sits behind his desk and leans against his gaming chair, giving his fans a small peek of his bedroom. They can see his door and artwork that keeps on his shelves and walls but they can’t see the bed where you lay sleeping peacefully with your back turned.

“Missed you guys,” he says with his voice kept low. His eyes flicker over the screen of his monitor to see you naked underneath his sheets. “Why am I talking quietly? It’s night time, isn’t it? I don’t want to wake the members up.”

They seem to buy it for now. Heeseung’s soft melodies that put you to sleep still air throughout the room, songs that describe sex and sensuality floating around as it permeates within the chat room of his livestream. He sees the comments—ones he can read—and smirks when the people watching him call him out for the nasty lyrics.

It takes him back to just thirty minutes prior when he was making a mess of you on his bed, shoving his cock and fingers so deep in your hole that he was sure you’d feel him as melodic lyrics talk about having sex all day and night. He hasn’t seen you in a while due to busy schedules but now that he has his own room and the walls are relatively thick, he’s got no problem plowing into you without abandon.

“Wet the bed? Yeah, that’s a good song.” Heeseung rubs his chin and flicks his eyes over to you before looking back at the chat. “What am I looking at? What do you mean? What could I possibly be looking at?”

The uptick in his voice sends his chat room in a frenzy. He feels like he might as well be high off his last orgasm and knows his fans can sense his change of attitude. Seeing you half naked in his bed doesn’t help calm his mind anyway.

Heeseung chats with these strangers for a while before you stir. The music drowns out the sound of his bedsheets ruffling and he turns up the music just a smudge in case you make any more noise. To his pleasure, you turn to face him and immediately catch that he’s on a livestream with the glow on his face.

“I’m not tired,” Heeseung says after a beat of silence, looking at his monitor before looking at you. The sight of your naked chest makes him bite his lips, tits spilling out of the blanket as you do your best to sit upright and cover yourself. “Not tired at all. Are you guys tired?”

His cock jumps when you shake your head. “I could keep going.” Heeseung’s attention returns to the screen as he runs his free hand through his hair. “You guys are too funny. What do you mean, why am I acting like this?”

Your tired eyes seem to understand exactly what he means and your own mind drifts over to what transpired before you fell asleep. With a careful step, you make room for yourself underneath the desk and let Heeseung situate himself in his chair as you spread his legs by pushing his knees apart.

This isn’t the first time the two of you have fooled around on a livestream but it is the first time he’s done it with his camera on. Heeseung loves looking at his comments as you get him off and loves all of the tweets and posts after the fact, speculating that he might’ve been distracted during the livestream. These scenarios fuel him to keep going and he thinks he might have a little taste for exhibitionism.

He looks down at you. Your cheek rests against his knee and his thumb comes to brush just underneath your eye with a gentle touch. He bites his lip when he looks past your eyes and sees you completely naked underneath him, tits bouncing as you get comfortable with your bare pussy towards the floor.

“Mm,” he moans subtly. “Can’t wait for the weekend. We don’t have any plans, for once. What are you guys up to?”

Heeseung pretend to grab his water in order to lift his hips from the desk and let you pull his boxers down. His cock is still soft before you. Your lips come to press gentle, quiet kisses over his warm dick while he gulps the water down and flexes his thighs to keep himself calm underneath your mouth.

“Coming to Korea? Wow.” Your tongue moves over the head of his cock and repeatedly licks over his slit in a back and forth motion, which makes him choke and cough. “You’ll love it here. I know I do.”

You pay no mind to him with his subtle flirtation as you work up his cock until it’s hard. Heeseung is always like this, so sensitive that one touch makes him harder than a rock in no time. Being on the road and away from you is tough and his hand can only do so much. Your warm mouth dropping spit to coat him for a blowjob is what keeps him hard.

“What’s up with my music?” Heeseung laughs, biting his lip as you engulf his tip in your mouth. Your wet tongue is warm to the touch and his balls feel heavy with you around him. “Nothing. I just like these songs.”

That’s not a total lie. He loves them because he fucked you to this music before turning on his camera. You give his balls a squeeze when you catch him in the lie and Heeseung winces, trying to hold in his moan.

“You guys are hearing things,” he tells the chat when they start speculating that someone might be in the room with him. “Why do I keep looking down? I don’t know. I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

Another lie, but you let him go this time. You push your head down to force the entirety of his cock in your mouth and feel as his hips jerk at the sudden movement. Heeseung can only smile painfully and hold in his grunts while the camera is on him. Looking down at you isn’t an option since his fans have caught on to his line of sight but the thought of getting caught turns him on. He’d probably invite them to watch you suck him off if that wouldn’t cost him his job.

You look so cute on your knees like this for him. Heeseung avoids looking down at you but sees your mouth move from his peripheral vision and holds your hair out of your face as you push yourself up and down on him. You’re insanely wet to the point where you might as well be dripping right onto the hard wood of his floors. Hearing him talk to his fans about everything but what’s happening is turning you on far more than you’d like to admit. Seeing him flirt with fans on stage fuels your jealousy and winds up in mind blowing sex when he comes back home to you. You’re the only girl he’d ever want around his dick anyway.

You know Heeseung is close by the tightened grip he has on your hair and the way he flexes his nostrils because he can’t make a sound.

“When am I coming back to America?” Heeseung asks after reading a message. “I’m coming—”

He does, right into your mouth until his salty cum coats the surface of your tongue. You swallow him with his cock still lodged in you and suck him with an iron grip while he tries to answer the question but it’s so hard for him to focus when you’re sucking him like that.

“—in a while, I think.” Heeseung winces when you start to kitten lick his slit to catch the stray beads of cum that seeps from him. “Yeah. I’d love to come.”

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines

Author’s Note: hey y’all! This is the start of a professor Ford AU that I’m working on. Thank you so much for being patient, and I am so excited to hear what you think about this! Sorry if some of this is inaccurate. I have not gotten my masters yet 

“Prologue” 

You sat outside Dr. Pines’ office bouncing your leg to expend the anxious energy flooding your mind. You were rearranging your manila folder of papers for the third time already. You couldn’t decide what would be the best order for him to read them in. Not like it really mattered anyways. It was just a nervous fidget to keep your mind off of the fact this was the last shot for you to get a sponsor for your Master’s research. He was finishing up a meeting with another student; you could hear pieces of his deep voice through the oak door. You hadn’t gotten to meet Dr. Pines yet. Your conversations hadn’t breached your Email inbox, but you were eager to finally have a discussion face-to-face. 

The door creaked open and a young man walked into the hallway, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. “Have a good day! I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” Dr. Pines called out to him. You exhaled through your mouth and placed the folder in a binder that held laminated pictures you had taken. You stood up from the cushioned bench you were sitting on to enter his office. Any confidence you might have regained was lost when you ran face first into what could be your research mentor. Your face and arms collided with his broad chest and caused the papers kept snug in your folder to spill out onto the linoleum floor. 

“Oh good heavens, I am so sorry,” Dr. Pines apologized, bending down to pick up the scattered papers at your feet. This could not get any worse. 

“Oh, no it’s fine. I- I am sorry. I should’ve announced myself,” you replied, a furious blush spreading across your face. You had also joined him on the ground to pick up the remaining papers. 

He chuckled. “You’re quite alright. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you as you both stood up. He had a small smile on his face as he handed you some lined notebook paper filled with your rushed scribble. His fingertips brushed against yours in the process. You could feel they were calloused; a sharp contrast to your soft ones. 

“Why don’t we get started,” he said, walking towards his desk. “I’m excited to hear what you have to say.” He sat down at his swivel chair and scooted forward. “I spoke with some of my colleagues from the biology department after receiving your email, and I think you have some very interesting ideas.”

You beamed at him as you began to shuffle through your belongings. “Yes, yes! I know you are a lover of cryptozoology like myself, and I wanted to speak with you about studying some creatures that I came face to face with while visiting the Appalachian Mountains earlier this year.” You handed him your binder which he immediately began to flip through. He was careful and nodded along as you continued to speak about your experiences in east Tennessee. It was nice that he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. 

You had not had that luck with other professors you had spoken with about your findings. They either didn’t care or believed it was a hoax. It was until you had checked out a book at the library about a town in Oregon written by none other than Dr. Stanford Pines that you realized he was the key to fulfilling your plans. You had never had a class with him when you were an undergraduate, so you didn’t know much about him besides the fact he was very intelligent and had six fingers. 

He’s not so bad looking either. He was wearing a light blue button-up with a brown tweed coat over it. He had thick, gray hair with a lighter silver streak and wire rimmed glasses balanced on a strong nose. He ran his hand over his stubble and raised his eyebrows towards your photos.

“This is…” Dr. Pines paused. His eyes met yours as he closed your binder. “Incredible.” Your eyes widened and you failed to suppress the ecstatic grin forming across your face. 

“T-thank you, sir,” you replied. 

He then stood up from behind his desk to sit in the chair beside you. “Y/N, this is truly remarkable. I mean,” he began to flip through your notes from the folder, “the amount of thought and organization that went into this is unlike what I've seen in other students.” He gazed at you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry my foolish colleagues didn’t see your potential, but I’m glad that I could be the one that did.”

You felt like you could cry. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” you responded shakily. “Does this mean you will be my faculty sponsor?” 

He gave you a toothy smile and got on his feet to extend a hand towards you. “I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you get the answers you deserve. This summer, I am proposing we travel out to the Appalachia and take a look ourselves.” You hopped up and took his hand into yours, giving him a firm but enthusiastic handshake. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Pines. I am so grateful for this opportunity.” You started to pick up your things. “Really, I am just so excited, sir.” 

He chuckled, waving his hand dismissively at you. “No more formalities, Y/N. You can just call me Ford. We’ll be spending quite a lot of time together this summer, so I’d rather you just use my real name. It’ll be easier for both of us.” 

Your face became slightly warm and you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Sounds good, Ford,” you said, trying out the name for yourself. 

“Y-yes very well.” His voice had faltered. Was he blushing? “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re busy; I’ll be emailing you.” 

“I’ll be expecting you. Have a good day, Ford. It was nice to meet you, and thank you again for this,” you said sincerely,  placing your hand on the rickety door frame.  He grinned. “You too, Y/N. I look forward to working with you.” You gave him a little wave before walking out of his office. This was going to be the start of something wonderful.

Author's Note: There will be more but this is just setting up the story!!

[soleilapproves]

Simon’s apartment window conveniently faces yours making him increasingly interested in you.

notes / warnings: fem!reader

Warnings: stalker behavior, spying.

Part 1 of ?

It all started when Simon caught something moving in the corner of his eye. His body shifted away from his computer to see a woman stretching in the window facing his. Messy hair, loose cropped t-shirt that barely covered her mid riff and shorts that one only wore when they knew no one was at home.

Regardless, he found her charming with how carefree she looked. Was she like that with people too? Maybe she was one those type of people that was super rigid with coworkers and strangers but laid back with friends. Or maybe she liked greeting every neighbor she happened to pass by while walking out the building.

Normally, he didn’t bother with people but something in him pulled him towards her. So much so that he moved his chair from his desk and towards the window to see her better. Comfortably sitting with his legs spread and arms folded. He mentally thanked himself for having tinted windows. He could add spying to his list of benefits.

She peered through the window, looking around to see the blurs of metal on the streets. She slumped her shoulders as if she seemed disappointed and went back into her apartment.

He wanted to see more. All he knew was that there was a woman with horrible taste in sleepwear living across from him. Even the fact that her window was full length didn’t help. He couldn’t see much aside from her white bed sheets and maybe a plushie. A couple posters, a small cup on her desk and a…. was that a cat?

His former military training had him seeing a bird eating worms many yards away but now he felt like all that was useless if he couldn’t know what her posters were actually about.

He shook his head to get him back into a more productive headspace and went right back to work. Surveillance work and private investigation felt a lot more taxing after leaving the military. He doesn’t have the patience he used to have back then.

Two hours pass by and he gets up to stretch. Following the woman’s routine, he walks up to the window and stretches his while looking down.

And lo and behold, there she was, by the bus stop, this time wearing some sort of slacks set with a colorful jacket (much better choice than what she was wearing before). Looked like regular office wear. Simon thought that it was good she was taking precautions against the cold.

He checked the time on his Fitbit.

8:27 am

Simon noticed that since she takes the 8:30 bus then she must have a boring corporate ‘9 to 5’ job nearby

-

As you waited for the bus, you plugged in your earphones to listen to a song you’ve been obsessed with lately. The beat couldn’t help but make you bob your head side to side, uncaring if people thought you were crazy or had too much caffeine than one should in the morning.

You continued bobbing your head in the bus. This song has probably been played fifteen times since you’d first heard it. You played to it on your speakers while swiping the floor, in the shower, grooming your cat, and much more.

You were a little bummed out that your friends didn’t like it as much but it was fine. You had your cat who was conditioned rub her fuzzy little head against your hand whenever that that song played through any speakers.

-

Simon had been staring at the bus stop outside his window since 5:00 pm sharp. He knew that the woman was going to arrive any moment now. It was Monday night. There was no way she had other places to be.

6:20 pm

She got out of the bus. A bit later than he expected but then he noticed a small plastic bag in her hand. Maybe a quick grocery run on the way back. He also accounted for the added traffic during rush hour.

‘I can go back to work now.’ He thought himself. ‘She’s safe at home.’

But no, he had to make sure that she was in her apartment. He waited for a few minutes and then saw her in her room. She fell back on her bed with a bounce and the left corner of his upper lip lifted at the scene.

‘She’s safe and sound in her room. Time to go back to work.’

He threw himself back into his work.

Work.

Working.

More work.

Yes, tracking down this old man’s gold digging wife to see if she actually deserves to be on the will or not. She indeed doesn’t. Cheating with her hair dresser. He drafted a quick email of all her reports that was to be sent to his client at 9 am in the morning.

He normally didn’t schedule his emails like that. He usually did it right when he was supposed to send them to make sure there weren’t any last minute changes needed to be made (he felt like it was done better in the morning than any other time). But now, he had the woman from the window. He had to make sure she didn’t get hurt on her way to work and returned back home safe.

He had to keep her safe. His job made him feel like he was compelled to, duh.

Switching off his computer and messily shoving all his notes in a locked drawer, he decided to call it a night.

As he went to lay down, his eyes caught her window again, this time she was dancing. He wondered what song she could possibly be listening to that made her so happy.

He decided to grab his binoculars and peek a little closer. Curiosity’s sake.

She was wearing the same ugly sleep wear from this morning. Meaning, she probably didn’t shower today.

Meaning, she must have dry shampoo.

Ghost doesn’t need any of that since his hair has always been cut short out of habit. Maybe he’ll go to the grocery store nearby tomorrow to see what kind of dry shampoo they sell.

He began to wonder what she smelled like. He was personally a huge fan of sweet scents like vanilla and cinnamon. But he’s heard many women say that it’s very basic so they like pairing it with something floral.

To him, she seemed like the creative type. No boring person would openly dance in front of their window like it was not one of the most embarrassing things in the world.

He began to think about ways he could find out what that song was. He didn’t know any sort of information about her besides where she lived. He could use that to his advantage and trace her email to her other accounts.

So that was that. His first assignment for the next day.

-

I see that all my stalker-phobia is finally coming to good use.

[xazse]

z.. your work is so good im gonna shit myself.

can i pretty please request a bunny girl reader who's just like so clingy? Always begging to cockwarm scara or suck on his fingers while he's working?

AHHSJSAHSJ I WANT TO ANNOY HIM TJLL HE POUNDS ME INTO THE TABLE 🤞🤞

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: I’m so happy when you guys compliment my work it drives me crazy <333 esp comments like that they’re so funny to read.

Pairings: Scaramouche x Bunnygirl!Reader

Tags: Mean Scaramouche!, Throatfucking(with his fingers), and this is def not proofread

Scaramouche sees two bouncy ears in front of his desk: that’s all he sees, his face scrunches up, this is another feeble attempt of yours to scare him and everytime it ends with him catching you in the middle of it and for some reason you still haven’t learned your lesson. He’ll satiate you this time, he hums out loud and your ears stiff and he can hear light giggles.

You finally round the side of his desk and pop up with your nails out and a half attempt at a scary face: Ridiculous. He jumps in surprise and your face lights up a million before more giggles are spilling from your mouth. he focuses back on his work, fingers scribbling away at the various papers that are near due. You filt your head inbetween the gap in his arms and pull your body to sit on his lap.

Not even 10 minutes have passed and you’re already pushing your ass against his crotch, Scaramouche prides himself in not getting worked up so easily so while you futilely bounce he’s just enjoying the view of his poor bunny trying to get off.

Of course you can’t, not without his help a couple more minutes pass of him ignoring you, you can’t tell if he’s laughing when he lets out a breath of air but even that frustrates you and you promptly stand up and walk out, and he doesn’t like that when he calls out to you: you ignore him and even slam his goddamn door?

He assumes you’re embarrassed because the next couple of days you’re avoiding him like the plague but with him returning your energy it doesn’t take long for you to be on the floor, hands leaning on his legs begging for his attention, your long floppy ears downturned in submission, attempting to show him just how sorry you are.

He can also tell by glancing in your eyes that you’re bothered, lusty eyes filled with love for him and just for him, you’re also shifting from side to side in your tight panties. Speaking of said panties they just outline your pretty cunt so good: pressing against your crevices.

He wants to see something, so he stops his writing and offers you a hand, a finger in fact, you don’t waste any time wrapping your greedy lips around it to appease him, here you are sat on the floor like a mutt: sucking on his finger. He lets you do as you want, pulling off to the tip of his finger just to pull back in to the end of his finger, not once have you broke eye contact.

Rough fingers grab your chin with no sense of softness, forcing you to look up towards the ceiling, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth just to push two towards the back of your throat over and over: little cute gags leave your mouth along with whines.

You can practically feel your clit throbbing beneath these suffocating panties, you can’t even attempt to get rid of the pains not until scaras done fucking your throat with his fingers

Finally does he prop you up on his desk, whilst ripping your panties off in the process, he delivers a slap to your cunt to find your soaked. You flinch but eventually lean into it more. He finally unbuckles his shorts and lines himself up with your hole, finding it so good the way you unconsciously suck him in, a hiss leaves his teeth just from the tightness of you alone. You take to humping along his length most likely trying to take control: and he’s having none of that, you’ve made him wait far too long.

He pushes all the way in, in one stroke, Scaramouche is moreso longer than he is thick, it’s not hard for him to already be pressing on your sweet spot, a wanton moan leaves your lips, fingers digging into his desk. He doesn’t let you adjust either, you don’t deserve that right. His thrusts are mean as his hips meet your ass, the slick sounds of your pussy tossed around the room as he uses you like a damn toy. You don’t feel your mind even register his voice as he degrades you.

“Slut, I’ve barely even started and you’re already reduced to nothing.” And nothing your really reduced to, not when he’s bouncing you on his cock.

“Cu-“ “mmmh..”

“Speak properly” he chides, his voice is wavering as he spreads your legs further, giving him an even better angle to fuck you in. He knows you want your clit played with, knows you want his skilled fingers to dance along and push you over the edge already, but he decides against this to drag your orgasm out as long as he sees fit.

[mikupink]

Shouldn't Have Trusted Me 〜 (Albedo x Reader)

!! NSFW !!

You have been warned.

• Word count: 2k

• Imposter Albedo, Female reader, Smut, Drug use (Aphrodisiac), Modern AU

A thick pile of graded English papers sat neatly upon your desk as you stretched your arms out above your head and leaned back in your chair. Checking the time on your watch, it read 5.44pm. Today happened to be a special day. For dinner you were going to go eat at a fancy restaurant with Albedo, who was the chemistry teacher also working at the same school. It was quite a hot topic at first amongst the students to know that you and Albedo were dating. Some students, especially female students, were disappointed and crushed that their cute chemistry teacher was taken. But still, that fact did not stop the staggering amount of females over males taking chemistry.

But how did it start? When was it known? Albedo had requested that you keep your relationship with him low-key and to act appropriately with him while in school. It just so happened that one day he seemed like he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He caught you alone in the staff room, whispering in your ear and feeling you up. Saying that he dreamt of pulling your pants down or skirt up and ruining you during school hours. Forcing you to walk around with quivering legs, panties soaked and filled with his cum. Unfortunately two students, Bennett and Fischl, had witnessed Albedo’s actions (while thankfully not hearing exactly what he said). 

Albedo often brushed off his female students but now he had been drinking in the attention. While you did feel relieved that your relationship was known, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Albedo’s mind… It almost felt like he was a different person…

Grabbing your things, you locked up your classroom and headed over to the Chemistry block. There were barely any students around, which was quite normal but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach… something that felt off…

Relief flooded in you as you noticed the lights were on in one of the chemistry labs. Albedo had already told you that he was finishing an experiment and that you should not wait for him and head home, and he’d take you to dinner soon. Glancing through the window of the door, you opened it slowly, eyes searching for Albedo. He was nowhere to be found in the room. Instead there was a small blue flower in a pot, sitting on top of a bench. A whopperflower. It bounced around in the pot until it took notice of you. Normally whopperflowers of such a small size posed no threat. But this particular whopperflower began to grow. Rapidly.

You were frozen in shock. The exit was only a few metres behind you but you were too afraid to turn around and let such a monster out of your sight, even for a second. The whopperflower shook, thin appendages revealed themselves. All of a sudden it came towards you, gripped the sleeve of your coat and pulled. You quickly discarded the coat and ran for the door. You reached out, your hand grabbing the door handle when you felt the sticky appendages snake around your body, pulling and tearing apart the fabric of your clothes. Suddenly the pulling disappeared completely. A shadow cast over you.

You looked over your shoulder and gazed up at Albedo, sword in hand, and sliced off the whoppperflower’s appendages. The fight was short; your vision was blurry with tears of relief, as you hugged yourself, in your shredded clothes. Albedo kneeled down in front of you and placed his own coat on your shoulders. Albedo being the gentleman that he is, helped you up and patted your back as you sobbed on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry... Please forgive me for not saving you sooner,” Albedo whispered gently into your ear. “It’s okay now, you’re safe,” he had wrapped his arm around you and caressed you softly. Eventually your tears stopped, while Albedo, patiently and very gently held you against him.

“Perhaps… some tea would calm you…” He suggested, to which you shook your head.

“I’m feeling fine now… thank you, Albedo.” You smiled weakly at him after pulling away from his embrace.

Albedo didn’t return your smile. “But I insist… I can clearly feel you still shaking. There’s a new type of tea I want to brew for you, I know you’ll feel much better after drinking it.” He began to caress your cheek. How could you say ‘no’ now?

Soon you and Albedo were heading to the staffroom, he unlocked the door and let you enter first. You were resting on the couch as he brought you the tea he mentioned. You brought the teacup to your nose and sniffed. “It smells nice,” you commented before taking a sip. It didn’t taste bad but it didn’t taste exceptionally good either. After you downed the cup, you noticed Albedo just staring at your face, as if waiting for something to happen. When you met eyes with him, he smiled and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and suddenly felt drowsy. Your lips parted, wanting to question him about the tea but his face drew closer. Albedo pressed his mouth against yours, shoving his tongue between your parted lips, but you were unable to kiss back. Tiredness overwhelmed you and you fell against him, your eyes closing into sleep.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been between the time you passed out and suddenly finding yourself in Albedo’s bed. Your body felt tired as you tried to get up from the bed, noticing that someone had taken your clothes off and left you in just your underwear. You managed to sit up, only to have your head grabbed and face pushed against the pillows.

“How naughty… Were you trying to leave?” A voice whispered.

You turned your face so that your cheek rested on the pillow. “Albedo, what are you doing? What about dinner?”

“Oh…” came Albedo’s reply, “The tea I had you drink should have alleviated your hunger… as well as another effect.” He caressed your hair before moving his hand down your neck, your back, until he reached your ass and gave a sharp slap to it. You gasped his name out when he did that. You felt him grabbing your thighs and spreading them, the tip of his finger now sliding against your clothed pussy. “Already so wet…” he chuckled as he began to rub you through your panties. “Can you feel it?” He said as he rubbed you faster. “The way your panties are soaked…” you moaned as his hand moved to rub over your clit. The room was quiet except for your moans and the squelching sound of your wet panties.

You tensed up and trembled as you came in your panties. You heard Albedo chuckle again. “Your first orgasm…”

You turned your body slightly to look back at him. “Albedo… how could you change our plans like this…” You sighed, still feeling the effects of your orgasm. You didn’t quite like how Albedo seemed to do whatever he wanted now, yet it felt exciting and new.

He pushed your body back to lie on your stomach again. “Don’t turn around. Just stay like that,” he said sternly.

You sighed and laid your cheek on the pillow. “Fine.”

Albedo pulled your panties completely off of you. “Ah…” he leaned closer, his nose coming into contact with your pussy as he took a deep breath and moaned. “You smell so good…”

Your face grew hotter in response, muttering his name and feeling embarrassed that he sniffed you for the first time down there.

His tongue peeked out from between his lips as he lightly licked over your slit before steadily increasing the pressure with each lick. You moaned into the pillow as his tongue slowly entered your pussy. Your hands came to clench at the pillows as Albedo began to tongue fuck you mercilessly as he pinched and rubbed your clit. Your thighs came to close against his head but he pushed one of your thighs so he was undisturbed. His ministrations led you to become an overstimulated, quivering mess, as you came on his tongue. When Albedo sat up after licking up your juices, he began to run his hands up and down your back, as if to soothe you… or to prepare you for what came next…

Albedo pulled at his clothes, discarding them hastily before grabbing and rubbing your hips. You let out a small giggle. “Someone’s impatient…”

He smiled at your words, his mouth coming down to kiss the nape of your neck. “Of course I’m impatient. I have a beautiful woman ready for me to make mine…” as he whispered these words, his lips inched toward your ear, kissing a trail until he began to lick and suck at the area behind your ear. You shuddered as you replied back. “I thought I was already yours…?”

It was as if something flared inside him as your words sunk in. He snaked his arms to your front and groped at your breasts. He breathed against your ear as he said, “yes… you’re mine…” His cock slipped inside you slowly, while groaning in your ear.

You breathed deeply as his cock slowly fucked you, gasping as Albedo’s fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples. You pushed your hips back harshly, as if getting revenge for him bullying your sensitive nipples. He grunted before picking up the pace, one of his hands sneaking down to play with your clit. With so much stimulation, you came on his cock, but he didn’t stop. Your quivering cries were falling on deaf ears as Albedo was chasing his release. The only sounds in the room were your moans and whimpers and the wet, loud sounds of sex. His cock twitched deep inside your pussy, as he littered lovebites on the side of your neck. “A-Albedo…!” You squirmed as he mercilessly pounded into you, your cries turning into chokes as his hand gripped your neck. “You’re mine…” Albedo whispered as he finally released his cum, painting your insides.

You were panting and breathing heavily as he pulled out his cock and smeared some of his cum on your ass. Sensing this was the end, you tiredly turned around to lay on your back and your legs brushed against his body while moving around. Eyeing your breasts, Albedo leaned down and laid his face against them, sighing contentedly. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close and kissing his sweaty forehead.

“Let’s have another round,” he suddenly said as he flipped your body so you were on top of him instead.

“But I still haven’t recov—” you stopped yourself as your gaze settled on his neck. The moonlight shone through the window and you took notice of the missing star-shaped mark on his skin. “Why did you get it removed?” You asked as you touched his neck.

Albedo grabbed your hips and began teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. “It’s simple. That mark did nothing but show how imperfect I was. So I got rid of it.”

“That’s so unlike you, Albe— ah…” you had to cut yourself off as you felt his cock slide into you, balls deep, again.

He caressed your cheek and pulled your face close to his as he fucked you slowly and deeply. “Did you say it was unlike me…?” His pace began to get harder and rougher as he gripped one of your hips and pushed against the back of your head to capture your lips in a needy kiss. Albedo forced his tongue into your mouth as he rubbed your clit with his thumb. Combined with his rough fucking, you soon squirted all over his cock as you panted against his mouth. Unable to hold yourself up, you slumped on top of him while his hips came to a stop.

“Such a mess,” Albedo remarked. “I haven’t cummed yet… what to do…” he pondered before smirking. His fingers gripped your ass, his middle finger sinking between the cheeks to poke at your rear hole.

“Maybe I’ll fill you here next.”

Also posted on AO3. Do not share, copy, translate.

Note: Shadows Amidst Snowstorms event lives in my head even after 2 years. I wrote this after I got a sleep paralysis dream with fake Albedo forcing his cock in my ass. The blue whopperflower also appeared in my dream so that scene was based off of my dream.

Thank you for reading <3

[yandere-writer-momo]

This was so hard to write so I decided to make it a short story. Love triangles are hard. But enjoy!

Yandere Baki Short Stories: The Friendzone

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Childhood Afab Reader x Yandere Katsumi Orochi

Obsidian eyes shifted toward the door, his leg bounced up and down in anticipation. Where was she? She normally wasn’t late… it was two minutes past her usual time when she would come to see him. Did something happen? Was she okay? Did he need to send some of his men to fetch her?

Kaoru felt so anxious. So anxious. So anxious. So. Anxious.

Kaoru sighed in relief when the familiar form of (your name) peaked her head in the door. Her smile as bright as the sun when they locked eyes. There she was… thank god.

“Did you miss me that much?” (Your name) gave Kaoru a teasing look. “The train took a little longer than normal.”

“I’ve told you that I can just send my men to bring you here so you don’t have to pay for the subway.” (Your name) waved Kaoru off.

“I don’t think it’d go well if some men in suits take me into their fancy car after work. People would think I’m your wife or something.” (Your name) giggled but Kaoru didn’t mind the sound of her becoming his wife. They’ve known each other for so many years now… wouldn’t it make sense to end up with each other? “Just like people think I’m Katsumi’s wife.”

Kaoru felt his mood immediately soured. He couldn’t stand that she was also friends with the karate brat. And the fact that she’s known Katsumi longer than him.

“You don’t always have to make time for me to come see you. I know you’re busy.” (Your name) smiled warmly at him. Her hands fold shyly in front of her.

“I’ll always make time for you, you’re important to me.” Kaoru replied in a soft tone specifically reserved for her.

Emotions were not Kaoru’s specialty. He was what one would call… emotionally constipated. Kaoru could only express his earnest feelings through acts of service and gift giving. And it frustrated him that (your name) was so dense.

Kaoru had tried having relations with other women but he felt as if he was cheating on (your name) the moment one tried to touch him. He was only loyal to his dearest friend who had no idea how much he loved her.

(Your name) lit up at Kaoru’s words. Kaoru was truly one of her closest friends. He meant so much to her.

“And you’re important to me too.” Kaoru’s heart fluttered, his ears turned a bit pink. He knew she meant platonically, but he couldn’t help the excitement that seeped into his heart. He was important to her… they were important to each other. That’s all that mattered to him.

(Your name) took her usual seat in front of Kaoru’s desk while he worked. The yakuza smiled as she made small talk with him. Oh how he wished she could just stay in his compound with him permanently. How badly he wished she’d sit on his lap while he filled out this mountain of paperwork. He wanted her head nuzzled into his chest in the morning while he worked after a night of passionate love making. Kaoru wanted her fingers to travel over the scars on his face while she pressed tender kisses to each one. Kaoru’s fantasies were becoming too much for him to handle.

Day dreams often slipped into his reality, the possibilities of his love being reciprocated danced through his head just as much as her soft voice and gentle mannerisms. Kaoru wanted (your name) so badly… he felt as if he’d snap in a second.

Kaoru nearly jumped out of his skin when (your name) placed her hand on his. His heart pounded in his chest like a bird desperate to escape its cage. She had his full attention now.

“You’re trembling… are you not feeling well?” (Your name) furrowed her brow in concern, her thumb ran over his scarred knuckles in a soothing manner. “I could come another time-“

Hanayama took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips. Kaoru pressed a long kiss to the back of her hand, his dark eyes focused on her shocked expression.

“If it were up to me, you’d be here everyday.” Kaoru whispered into the soft skin of her hand, his gaze never left her eyes. He looked like a predator staring down his prey and she felt so small under him. “You still don’t have a lover, right?”

(Your name)’s face turned a bright shade of red when she tried to glance away from his intense gaze. “I don’t… I have no luck with such things. I’ve been so hopeless, my mother has been looking to match make me.”

Kaoru gently grabbed her chin and tilted her head up to meet his smoldering gaze once more.

“Well why don’t you just-“ a knock at the door interrupted them. Kaoru frowned but reluctantly released her chin. “Come in.”

One of his men came in with a nervous expression. “Hate to bother you, boss. But the business deal didn’t go well. We might have to handle it with a different approach.”

Kaoru nodded at his henchman, the yakuza sent an apologetic look to his (your name). He really didn’t want to call their time together short but work called to him.

“Can we reschedule for tomorrow? I could take you out to dinner?” Kaoru offered (your name) with a smile. This may be his chance to finally convey his feelings for her… they could make it official and finally eliminate the karate brat down the picture.

“Oh I can’t tomorrow, I’ll be hanging out with Katsumi.” Kaoru felt himself mentally deflate like a balloon. His hopes were dashed in an instant. Of course she would be hanging out with the karate brat.

(Your name) instantly noticed Kaoru’s shift in mood so she back tracked. “But I’ll be free on Friday if you’d like to have dinner then.”

“I’ll pick you up around six in the afternoon.” Kaoru told her with a slight smile. It was a date! Kaoru would finally take her out on a date! He was so excited on the inside.

(Your name) gave Kaoru a small smile. She wondered if she made the right choice…

.

.

.

“(Your name)!” Katsumi practically leapt at the young woman, his arms wrapped tightly around her smaller form. A big, goofy grin on his lips. “I missed you so much!”

(Your name) giggled as Katsumi swung her around in his arms. Katsumi had always been the physically affectionate type of friend since they were children.

“Katsumi, it’s only been a day!” (Your name) squealed when he dipped her down, his nose pressed against hers.

“It felt like a year. You know I don’t like being apart from you for long.” Katsumi whispered with a lovesick grin. His eyes filled with adoration for her. “Why don’t you just move in with me?”

(Your name) reached up and tugged on the blue bandana wrapped around his head which made him laugh. The karateka pulled away with a smile. “Hey! It took me awhile to tie that.”

“I can’t move in with a guy.” (Your name) laughed as she gave Katsumi a smile. “I’m not even married.”

“We’ve been friends since we were eight. Why don’t we just get married?” Katsumi blushed, his palms now a bit sweaty from anticipation. He’s always wanted to marry (your name), even before they became close friends. She was the cutest girl in his grade and she was the sweetest. Wouldn’t it only be natural for them to end up with each other? Katsumi knew he was her best option. “I’m sure our parents would be thrilled.”

“If that were the logic then I’d have to marry Kaoru too.” (Your name) squirmed out of his vice like grip on her. “You both are so silly.”

Katsumi frowned. He hated that she was friends with Kaoru too. He could tell the yakuza held a torch for her and she was none the wiser. Didn’t she know of the danger Kaoru could indirectly put her in? How he was too rough? How Kaoru looked like he’d swallow her whole at any moment?

“But you don’t have a lover.” Katsumi pointed out. “Didn’t you say your mom is planning on match making you with someone? Why not be with someone you’re familiar with?” Katsumi hinted at her to choose him.

Katsumi would keep her safe. His life was pretty stable and he had a supportive family. She’d be comfortable by his side. Katsumi would spoil her rotten with his love. He’d give her the world if she wanted it. All he wanted in return was to give her a baby. Katsumi would give her as many babies as she’d like. As many as he physically could. He craved that domestic life with her more than anything in this world. All she had to do was say yes and he’d show her all the love a man could give a woman.

“You’re funny.” (Your name) giggled. “We’ve been best friends for years, Katsumi.”

“You’re going to another tournament soon, right? I heard the competition is stiff.” (Your name) changed the subject with ease. Katsumi responded with a bicep flex.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t win when I have muscles like these?” Katsumi and her shared a quick laugh. Even after all these years, he was still the same, cocky Katsumi. “Go on ahead. Touch them.”

(Your name) giggled, her hands touch the large muscle with a smile. Katsumi gave her a smirk, then he leaned over to whisper in her ear, “don’t you think I’m husband material?”

(Your name) swatted at Katsumi and giggled. A big smile on her face. “You’ll definitely be a great husband one day.”

Katsumi bit his lip. How could she be so cute and oblivious. The man wore his heart on his sleeve and he made his feelings known loud and clear. Yet she always thought it was a joke. Can’t she see he’s madly in love with her?

The two continued to chat at the cafe. Katsumi would occasionally touch their fingers together whenever he had the chance. He wanted to touch her more. Katsumi wanted her to love him back. It was killing him.

Katsumi smiled warmly at (your name) as she talked, his chocolate eyes never left her face. He was wrapped around her pinky and he had no intention of it being any other way…

.

.

.

(Your name) threw herself on her bed the moment she was home. The young woman screamed loudly into her pillow to muffle the sound. She didn’t know how much longer she could do this… First Kaoru and now Katsumi… she didn’t want to think about this anymore.

She loved her friends dearly, she truly did, but she knew she couldn’t give them the relationship they desired with her. She just couldn’t give them the romantic love they craved. They were her life-long friends. That was all.

She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she broke one of their hearts. They both deserved someone who could return the magnitude of their feelings and not someone who played with their hearts. (Your name) felt so much guilt.

So she pretended to be oblivious to their feelings. She had tried to let them down gently yet nothing worked.

(Your name) sighed and put her hands over her eyes. How the hell would she get herself out of this mess?

She didn’t realize a timer was ticking for her. That those two men weren’t going to wait any longer for an answer from her. No. They were going to make the decision for her.

Whether she liked it or not, she’d be one of their wives. The loser would have to deal with second best.

[junkissed]

what position do u think would be each member's fave?

i thought about this for a very long time and i have very specific thoughts about each of them so i hope these make sense!!

member | svt ot13 x afab reader genre | smut headcanons (each member has a little paragraph) word count | ~900 warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, mentions of sexual positions including oral sex (reader & idol receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

seungcheol: cowgirl

i think it really depends what mood he’s in because one night he could be giving you the roughest, hardest dicking down of your life and then the next night be pouty and cute and want to make love. he would enjoy pretty much anything as long as it makes you feel good (another reason why i think he’d be super into body worship but let’s save that discussion for another time). one of his everyday favorites would be cowgirl because although you’re on top, he’s the one doing all the work thrusting up into you. it gives you an illusion of control and he likes that. he’d grip your ass so hard to get more leverage and there would be the added bonus of your boobs bouncing in his face

jeonghan: doggy

i just know he’s a freak and he would want to try a dozen new positions every week but i think doggy would be up there as one of his favorites. probably also a big fan of eiffel tower if he’s having a threesome with cheol or shua because i see that happening a lot too

joshua: missionary

he’s disgusting and romantic so he would like the fact that it’s a “classic” position but he would find a way to make it really kinky like having your hands tied to the headboard and a vibrator in your ass or something

junhui: facesitting

i’m not calling him vanilla but i think he would prefer simple positions over really complex ones because as long as you feel good and he feels good it doesn’t really matter to him which way you’re facing or if your boobs or your ass or your pussy is in his face. i think he would really really like facesitting though because he can just hold you down and he loves the feeling of your hips writhing against his mouth. his favorite penetrative position would be doggy or missionary just because they’re easy and give him a lot of room for creativity if he wants to change them up by angling you a little differently or introducing a toy or something

soonyoung: 69

he loves eating you out, and he loves having his dick sucked, so it’s truly a win for everybody here. plus he thinks the word “sixty-nine” is funny

jihoon: chair cowgirl

he might not always have the time/energy to make it to the bedroom for a full session so his favorite solution is having you ride him on his chair. his second favorite solution is bending you over his desk and fucking you from behind

wonwoo: prone bone (flat doggy)

he’s another one that i think would most often enjoy bending you over the nearest counter/table/surface but i also think he would really like being in bed too. he’d like this position because it’s just like doggy (which he also enjoys) but because you’re laying flat on your stomach he can hit deeper and you can feel pretty much all of his weight on you from behind and that’s really hot

minghao: lotus

he has 100% read the kama sutra and always wants to try new positions from it but his favorite is the tried and true lotus. it feels very intimate and sensual and he would be really big on holding eye contact while you do it

mingyu: mating press

he’s a very large man and maybe i’m just projecting my size kink here but i think he would enjoy positions that make him seem bigger and broader and taller. mating press would be his favorite because he would really love the fact that he’s putting all his weight into you and he likes seeing you folded in half with your knees by your chest and your legs in the air

seokmin: chair reverse cowgirl

i feel like he would like a chair position because otherwise if he’s in control he would just go crazy feral and when you’re sitting on him it helps him hold back a little and give you more control. so he would have you on his lap quite often and he’d prefer reverse cowgirl over cowgirl because he can pull on your hair and choke you better that way

seungkwan: standing

seungkwan is an enigma to me, like he’s always hard to get a read on, so figuring out his fav position was tough. but i have come to the conclusion that he would like that shower sex position where you’re both standing and you’ve got one leg wrapped around his waist. bonus: this isn’t really a position but i think he would be super into mutual masturbation, no touching just watching

vernon: reverse cowgirl

i don’t think he would like doing anything too crazy or difficult so i think he would like positions where he doesn’t have to do a whole lot of work lol. reverse cowgirl would be one of his faves because he can just lay there and let you bounce on his cock while getting a nice view of your ass. i think he would also really like laying on his side and spooning, and also cockwarming in any position

chan: cowgirl

honestly i feel like he would love any position as long as it involves lingerie. one of his favorites would be cowgirl because he gets a full view of your boobs in that pretty blue set he bought you

> not taglisting this one because it's not really a drabble! however, if you'd like to join my taglist and be tagged in future fics you can join my taglist here!

if you enjoyed reading this, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

[liillyliilly]

Genius on Genius Crush

kageyama tobio x reader words; 780 synopsis; she's an inventor of sorts, kageyama likes to watch her slow descent into a crazed creation kick. he's also good at volleyball so there's that.

Raising an eyebrow, Kageyama pushed the notebook away from his face so that it was lying on his desk instead of being pressed up close to his face. This was a common occurrence for Kageyama. Y/n would try to show him her new invention of sorts, just to test the waters of possible reactions for the general public.

“It’s a diagram?” Kageyama offered a simple answer to their question. But that didn’t seem to please her seeing as she slumped into the back of their chair and let out a huff of agitation, her arms folded and bouncing her knee.

“Of course, it’s a diagram, but what is the diagram of?”

“How am I supposed to know? It looks like a cylinder with drawings on the outside.” Kageyama pushed the sketch aside, choosing to instead look at the drawings Sugawara gave him to study for hand signals to use in volleyball matches. His realm of knowledge and her realm of knowledge rarely overlapped. Yet, they both respected their mutual expertise.

“It's a lantern,” Y/n said, taking the drawing book back and shoving it into her bag. Standing up to leave the classroom. “I’ll need you to come over tonight so that I can test out if it works.”

If there was anything that Y/n managed to do right, it was being able to shake up the resolve of Kageyama. Even though they had been friends for a while, there is a large leap from just hanging out at a person’s house to the dramatics of actually going over to a person’s house with a purpose. That purpose is to see the model Y/n made.

Sitting on her bed, just kind of awkwardly looking around at the walls and little trinkets splayed out, Kageyama tried his best to even out his heartbeat. Racing at the thought of being in her room. All alone, with each other.

“You good? You look a little pale.” Y/n called out from where she was investigating in her closet. Ruffling objects and jackets around in search of the model of the lantern.

“Perfectly fine.” He choked out. Tugging at his collar so he would have more room to breathe.

“Ta-da!” Y/n hopped out of her closet to show the around two-foot-tall lantern she had made. “Okay, let me explain how it functions, and then we can go outside to see if it works!” She excitedly jumped over to Kageyama, handing him the lantern.

It was made of a fabric shell, with a small candle which was attached by wires at the opening in the bottom. It resembled a hot air balloon and just looking at it made Kageyama want to smile. Y/n had drawn a bunch of stick figures all around, some of him even. There was one that had him looking angry, with his eyebrows drawn thickly and sharp, but next to his angry stick figure was Y/n hugging him with a goofy smile drawn on.

Another drawing was of her holding up another miniature drawing, it was all very meta.

“Can I light it?” Kageyama poked Y/n in the leg. Which caused her to jolt upwards from how she was crouching down to inspect her project.

“Yes. Please, do the honors Kageyama.” Y/n tried to mimic an important military general before cracking out of the character to give him a smile and a nod of the head.

They went to the backyard, her parents were sipping some lemonade on porch chairs while her siblings were running around in circles throwing blades of grass at each other.

Placing the lantern down in the center of the field, Kageyama brought the lighter into the cylinder and lit the wick. At first, nothing happened, and she was rubbing her hands together, urging the science of air pressure to finally work.

Then, suddenly, it began to float. The yellow light began its ascent to the top of the universe.

Kageyama looked over to Y/n, she was smushing her face from how thrilled she was at the fact that the lantern worked. As it was going upwards into the sky, all the lantern became was a small orange flame, the stick figure drawings mere lines on the lantern.

“Look at how cool that is Kageyama!” Y/n shook Kageyama by shaking his shoulder and arm, she dropped his arm before giving him a big hug. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Kageyama stiffly wrapped an arm around her, before easing up and using his other hand to rest on the back of her head moving it upwards so that she could face him. “I always believe in you.”

[twisted-tales-of-all]

When is the Right Time?

Summary: When you coincidentally run into your first love at work one day, all of the feelings return just as suddenly. As all of the memories rush through your mind, you face the fact that time still refuses to be on your side. Will you fight against it and make now the right time, or will you enjoy the reunion and let fate play its games? Pairing: Song Mingi x afab!non-binary!Reader Genre: Angst, Smut, 18+ MDNI, one-shot, event Tropes: Mutual pining, childhood friends, right person wrong time, chance reunion, fated lovers(?), first love, new FWBs, non-idol!AU (poor MIngi even has two jobs) Word Count: 5.1K Contains: reader uses he/they pronouns and masc terms of endearment, female anatomy mentioned, deep emotions and the discussion of them, pet names (baby, daddy, good boy, pretty boy, pet), switch!Mingi and switch!reader, active role switch during play, teasing, praise, light hair-pulling, mention of sexting, multiple orgasms (afab receiving), overstimulation (afab r.), oral (afab r.), use of sex toys, dildo sucking, protected PIV sex [use protection kids! and remember to clean your toys before and after play!] A/N: This is WILDLY self-indulgent as it’s based on irl events, so it's also insanely specific oops. It also cycled through 4 different idols before settling on Mingi so take that as you will. This is also an entry for CoDN's Long Winters Night event! Be sure to check out all the other entries as well!

"Halfway through!"

"Only a couple more hours 'til vacation!"

All of your coworkers count down the time left today, eagerly awaiting the upcoming two-week break. As the bell rings to send the 5th and 6th graders back to class after recess, you look for the teachers, ready to hand the responsibility back to them. Usually, the 6th-grade teachers take their sweet time coming to collect their students, but you don't blame them.

"Oh, they have a sub. He's already out there. Perfect."

From Kelly's comment, your eyes glaze over the sea of pre-teens to see a tall man with a thin frame turn to lead the disruptive kids back to the classroom. You only catch a glimpse of his back before his figure fades behind the wall, but you immediately recognize him. Your hands begin shaking at the thought of seeing him after years of silence.

There's no way. It can't be him.

Quickly, you follow the class inside, asking the kids still outside for their substitute teacher's name. Even though he only gave them the first initial of his last name, it verified for you that it truly is him. You walk in and make a quick comment to one of the students before reaching the front of the desk and waiting for your friend to lift his head. As his eyes meet yours, you send him a soft smile and a whispered hello as you watch the emotions flood his gaze - shock, excitement, restricting his emotional display, and ending on a soft joy. With his sudden burst of energy, he quickly stands up to hug you. Although it's a quick side hug, you can feel his urge to properly hold you in his arms as he restricts himself to remain professional in front of the kids.

"Hey, you! It's been a while! How are you doing?"

Since he has to start class, the entire exchange only lasts a minute or so, but you head to lunch with a cheeky smile and a burst of adrenaline. With your thoughts scrambled, you sit in the break room and bounce your leg to purge some of your energy. Every fleeting thought in your mind involves him, from meeting him in this very school decades ago to growing up together to drifting apart but reuniting here once again. You remember all of the neatly stored memories of your shared childhood, all of the people who supported the two of you being together; you even remember that last walk home, where you both discussed the feelings you had for one another over the years.

But all of that ended when high school wrapped up. As with many others, your friendship faded into the past due to a lack of convenience. Suddenly, the boy you grew up with and were inseparable from for a decade became a complete stranger. You'd be lying if you claimed that it didn't hurt, but you moved on because that felt like the only option.

Seeing him again after years of silence feels so bittersweet, especially considering that timing would still not afford you the opportunity to work on being together in any way. Of course fate would throw him back into your life only a month and a half before you move nearly 2000 miles away.

Working through the second half of your shift, you learn that his class is throwing a holiday party today. Since you find yourself on friendly terms with a majority of students in the class, you jokingly suggest joining them as your shift ends, only for the joke to become a reality when your friend offers you the opportunity. You follow them inside and spend the remaining hour and a half with them, even helping to deal with a particularly rowdy student.

As the bell chimes to dismiss them, you get some alone time with your friend. Immediately, he holds his arms open, asking for a proper hug now that the kids won't ask a million questions about your relationship. As he holds you against his chest, he apologizes for not treating you well enough in the past. The sudden and unexpected apology catches you off-guard, but you manage to stifle the tears threatening to pull at your throat. Somewhere hidden deep inside of you, this embrace and apology combo struck a chord. As you pull out of the hug, you look up at him and find sincerity behind his eyes, as if he believes that his actions ruined the friendship years prior.

"If I needed an apology from you for anything - if I still had any ill will or hadn't moved past our rocky past, I wouldn't have come to say hi in the first place. I would've let sleeping dogs lie. You don't need to apologize for something nobody had fault in."

"You were such a big part of my life. I felt like an apology was necessary for our past."

Truthfully, you were both pretty mean to one another over the years. Whether built from the hormones swirling at that younger age or due to complicated feelings for one another, you bullied each other as much as you lifted each other up. But you haven't blamed him, not for a second since maturing.

"Life happens. I hold no ill will towards you for any reason."

"I'm glad. I'm so happy to see you again."

The knot of bittersweetness tightens in your chest as his earnest smile and excited tone tear through you. You still haven't mentioned leaving, and he's making it quite hard to even want to. A different version of you would risk it all and stay here if that meant building a relationship with the man you've loved your whole life. But that would mean sacrificing your own plans, and you know better to put yourself first now, even if he's the love of your life.

You walk out of the school together, and he leads you to his car without hesitation, offering you a ride home after learning that you walk to and from work. Although the drive is short, it's in the opposite direction of his current home, so you hadn't expected the offer. However, the bigger surprise comes when he opens the passenger door for you. Your past partners didn't even do that, so for someone like him to do so sends a rush of butterflies to your stomach, despite your mantra to not fall for him again repeating in your head.

Is he just that kind now, or do we both still have those feelings?

You quickly blink away your thoughts as he opens the driver's door. After all, you've been out of each other's lives for years, so - realistically - neither of you should harbor those feelings. You refuse to let yourself spiral after only seeing him once. Even on the off chance that those feelings remain after all this time, you cannot pursue them if you're moving away. That'd be unfair to him.

Luckily, conversation flows between you as easily as it used to, so you ease your nerves and calm those thoughts. Although the short ride passes quickly as you reveal your upcoming plans to move and learn about his recent life changes, you end with another hug and good thoughts. He expresses concisely how glad he feels to have you back in his life, and you mirror his joy. After verifying that you have the correct contact information, he only lets you leave the car after agreeing to meet up again soon.

Shortly after settling down at home, you check your phone to find a message from him. You roll your eyes at the five-years-late response to the birthday message you last sent him but reiterate in your reply that you're happy to have him back in your life, even if he's still a dork. Messaging quickly begins to involve some of the available games on the app. It acts as a buffer to ensure that communication continues even when there's nothing to talk about.

Thanks to a particularly worded message in regards to the game banter - and likely also to residual feelings from the past - the conversation takes a sudden shift into sexual topics. The current game quickly falls into the land of the forgotten thanks to the shift, as you both become way more invested in the possibility of finally hooking up. As you learn more about each other's likes and dislikes and fantasies, you both manage to loop some references to the past into your flirts. He's still much more clever with his words than you, but you quite enjoy it. With starting vacation for the school job, you both have more time to attempt anything together, so it works out really well. So well, in fact, that he offers to pick you up for lunch and fun the next day.

After working each other up the night prior, you're both very eager as you get into his car just before noon. Unsure of how quickly he wants to do anything, you hold back and let him make the first move, but you don't have to wait long. Almost immediately after driving out of your driveway, his hand is on your thigh, his fingers gripping you as if he'd be able to rip your pants off then and there. You already know that you'll have bruises by the time you return home, even if he isn't trying to leave any quite yet.

Arriving at the restaurant, you both compliment each other's outfits now that you can see them in full view. He takes your hand and places it in the crook of his arm, and you feel your face flush. As often as you imagined going on dates with him, you never thought you'd even hold hands romantically in actuality, but he jumped straight into walking arm in arm.

Maybe chivalry isn't dead.

As the thought floats in your mind, he opens the door for you before taking hold of your hand again, giving you butterflies. It feels like he wants to show you off as his, and your active imagination is screaming out in joy. As the hostess leads you to a table, Mingi lets you scoot into the booth before sitting next to you. The arrangement feels awkward at first, as you're used to sitting across from whoever you eat with, but, when his hand makes it back onto your leg, you feel the tension lift immediately. Something about him calms you; he really feels like a safe space.

Due to the plans after lunch, neither of you care to eat much, so you split an appetizer and grab a couple of drinks while sharing stories and witty banter. Lunch passes fairly quickly, and you leave hand in hand after he pays. Once again, the child inside you is thrashing around from joy, but you try your best to hide it. That is, until you're back in the car sharing mints with your head momentarily on his shoulder and he tilts your chin up to make eye contact. Even without words, the intent is clear, but he keeps up the gentlemanly attitude by asking for permission.

In a near whisper, words you yearned so long to hear leave his lips, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod slightly as the butterflies keep any words you planned on using stuck in your throat. As his lips touch yours, you immediately give in to the urge to kiss back. Although he doesn't do much during the kiss, you cannot tell whether he's nervous, holding back, just a bad kisser, or something else entirely. There were no sparks like the fantasies, no eager nipping at one another for more, but you still enjoy it. Once again, he just feels safe. As if kissing him was just natural - something you were made to do, or maybe a semblance of a past life memory peeking through the cracks.

As you pull apart, he makes another witty comment, "So, how was it? As good as you imagined for all those years?"

Due to his cockiness and the safe feeling that you can tell him the truth even if painful, you admit without hesitation, "No, not really."

"Oh? Well then, offer up some advice. What could I do better?"

The cockiness melted away to reveal genuine advice seeking, so you think on it for a moment before finding the words, "I... don't really know how exactly to explain it, but you didn't really do anything. I don't wanna say you kiss like a dead fish, but it's the closest thing I can think of right now. You just... You don't move."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to practice."

The whiplash between genuine and flirty comments leaves you at a loss for words. As you send him a judgmental stare, he flashes a cheeky smile back, coupled with a hearty chuckle that warms your heart. You roll your eyes as he starts up the car and places his hand on your thigh as if it's become a new home. As he drives you to his house, he points out a few places he frequents - a bar that hosts weekly trivia nights, one of the schools he enjoys subbing at, and a sandwich shop that he quickly became a regular at. You take most of it in quietly, only to joke that he's a nerd for going to trivia nights. He invites you to join his group some time, and, although you admit that you feel old enough already thanks to some of your habits and hobbies, you accept the invitation and tell him to let you know if he goes before you move.

When the statement leaves your lips, you begin to wonder whether you've brought up the move too much, but he doesn't react either way. You make a mental note to bring it up less but acknowledge that you need to remind yourself sometimes, too, so that you can lessen the pain of leaving your friends (and first love) by mentally preparing well in advance.

He pulls up to a small house, parking along the street, before announcing, "Welcome to paradise!"

Earning a laugh, he accomplishes his goal and gets out of the car. You follow suit and stay only one step behind him as he leads you into his house and to his room. The room is small and only lightly decorated, but you find it strangely homely. As you take a moment to look around, he wastes no time and undresses while you're distracted. As you turn back to him, the only remaining clothing on his body is his underwear. Feeling suddenly overdressed, you quickly strip off your jacket and shirt while teasing him.

"A bit eager, now, aren't we?"

"After last night's conversation, how can I not be?"

"Good point, pretty boy."

Hearing the pet name, he responds with a low growl rather than another comment. As you continue undressing, dropping your pants to the floor, he eyes you in a way you've never seen before. Normally, men look at you like prey to devour, but his gaze is softer. The long-time urge to finally learn your body after all these years shows clearly in his eyes, but he also looks like he wants to savor the experience and make it worth the long wait. His look isn't how a predator looks at prey, but rather how a fasting man looks at his long-awaited first meal to break the fast. Somehow, you feel treasured and nervous and excited all at once, unsure how he plans to approach the situation.

Slowly, he steps towards you. He places his hands on your waist and kisses you again, pulling your body to his. As he pulls out of the kiss, his hands glide up, reaching for the bra you specifically chose for the event.

"Let's get this uncomfortable thing off you." He softly announces his plans as his fingers struggle with the hook slightly.

He removes the hook and lets the bra fall to the floor. Now, with both of you in your underwear, you take a moment to explore each other's bodies. As his hands knead your chest and glide around your torso, you leave soft kisses on his chest, trying to commit his body to memory. You could spend hours like this, but he starts slowly moving you towards the bed.

"Lie down, baby. I want to show you a good time."

You follow the instructions without issue. He pulls off your underwear only to smirk as he realizes you're already wet.

"We haven't even started, but you're wet for me already? What a good boy."

"Yessir." You mumble out your response, happily taken by surprise by the pet name. 

As he rubs two fingers between your folds, you watch the pleasure on his face. From the looks of it, he's holding himself back, but he's loving the experience already.

"Daddy, please. I want more." You beg, hoping to grab the part of him he's holding back.

"Shh. Baby boy, I want to learn you. It takes time. Be a good pet and wait for me to give you more."

Rather than accepting, you groan and pout in response. His eyebrow raises, and you feel a pressure directly on your clit, causing your breath to hitch. You cry out your acceptance of the situation, saying you'll wait for him. Once you comply, he returns to his exploration of your lower body. He kneads your thighs, kisses your stomach, and keeps track of all of your reactions.

"Y/N, can I eat you out? I really want to."

Although you normally become self-conscious and sometimes even dysphoric if someone gives you oral, you give him the green light. Immediately, he buries his face in between your legs. As his tongue works a magic you aren't used to, your moans catch in your throat and your body instinctively rocks against him, wanting more. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he continues. You get closer and closer to the edge, and your body shows it - your legs shaking, muscles tightening, moans getting louder. He catches the hints and moans against you, proud to make you feel so good with just his mouth.

As you feel the knot dangerously close to snapping, you bring one hand to his head, gripping at his hair, "Just like that. Keep going. Please, please, oh fuck-"

You reach your first orgasm through oral, your thighs trying to smother him between them. When your body relaxes, he lifts his head proudly before claiming that he's not done. He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out a pink vibrating dildo.

"Can I? I promise I won't go too hard."

Between the fog in your mind and his pretty face as he begs, you nod but add a condition to it, "Only if you'll also use it to show me how good you are at sucking dick, baby."

"Yes, daddy."

Suddenly, the roles have switched, but hearing him call you daddy unlocks something in you that you didn't know existed. In the past, you hated the term - something your friends jokingly called you as the parental friend of the group - but hearing it from him? In that tone? Accepting your conditions so simply? Something made it turn you on even more.

He places the toy in between your legs, going a step further in your request by making it your dick. Making sure your eyes are on him, he begins sucking on the silicone. The sight is so enjoyable that you almost don't want him to use the toy on you. Watching him suck your cock so needily and desperately both turns you on and validates you.

"What a good boy~ mm you look so pretty with your lips around a dick, baby. Like you were born for it."

"Yes, daddy. Thank you, Daddy."

There it is again. Man, it feels good. He has such an effect on you, to be able to take a word you passionately disliked and make it feel empowering to you. While you revel in the fact that he has such power over you even as a sub, he stops the act and slowly pushes the toy inside of you. You whine as it stretches you a bit, but he watches your face the whole time to ensure that you aren't in too much pain. When it's fully inside, he asks if it's okay to turn on the vibrations. You nod and he immediately presses the button to turn on the toy. Your body tightens at the power of the toy, but he keeps it going while rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit.

The intense combination of sensations hits you hard. Within minutes, your sensitive body reaches its peak again. Another orgasm rolls through you, stronger than the first thanks to the vibrations urging you along.

"There you go, Y/N. Let it all out."

His sultry tone in your ears adds to the mind fog as the toy's rumble brings your mind to a numbing emptiness. Hesitant to call this bliss, your body continues to shake and flex due to the overstimulation of the still-moving toy. He makes sure to bring you to a third orgasm before shutting off and removing the toy.

"Please fuck me, Mingi. Please~!" You beg as soon as you feel the emptiness left behind from the toy.

"I will, baby. I will."

He reaches back over to the nightstand, switching the toy out for the familiar crinkle wrapper of a condom. He quickly unwraps it, tossing the wrapper aside, and rolls it over himself, jerking himself off a bit before lining himself up with your opening. Despite going in slow, the stretch still stings as he bottoms out. You're still begging him to fuck you, begging him to take your body finally.

"I'm going to move, baby."

This time, he can't ask for permission but still tells you his intentions. His eagerness reaches its peak as he feels your walls holding him snugly. His strokes are hard but slow at first, in case you need to adjust. However, he quickly loses his cool, his pace becoming less consistent as the feeling of pleasure sweeps over you both.

"Just like that. Please, Mingi, don't stop. Don't stop."

As your final orgasm of the day hits, he groans out at the tightening. He continues for only another minute or so before he finds his high as well, with one final thrust reaching deep inside you. After a quick breath of recovery, he carefully pulls out of you, taking extra care to ensure that everything stays inside of the condom. He properly disposes of it before lying beside you, bringing his blanket over the two of you.

You cuddle and talk about everything that comes to mind, even a couple of deeper topics. However, time passes quickly, and he has work soon, so you can't stay in the position forever. He quickly rinses off in the shower, and you begin pulling your clothes back on.

When he returns to the room, he admits, "I want so badly to call off right now. If I didn't need the money, I would've loved to stay here longer with you."

Despite sharing the same sentiment, you encourage him to go to work. He sighs before kissing your forehead and agreeing that he has to even if he would rather not.

"We can always play again another day." You remind him.

"You're so right, actually. Maybe tomorrow."

You lightly hit his shoulder for the joke, but can't fully tell if he's joking. He drives you home before zooming off to work. You thank him for the good time before he leaves, adding that you'd be more than willing for another round whenever he'd like.

Only a couple of days go by before he asks whether you'd be free to hang out one night. You find the date oddly convenient, knowing that it's the longest night of the year, but you chalk it up to coincidence and tell him that you're free the whole day. Excitedly, he asks you to come stargazing with him, and you quickly accept.

You anxiously wait for the sunlit hours to pass, excited about both seeing the stars without the city's light pollution and spending more time alone with Mingi. Since you won't be doing too much, you dress simply in a T-shirt and some dark leggings. You wonder whether he'll also dress for comfort this time around, as you've only seen him in button-down shirts these days.

"Maybe he just likes wearing button-downs?" You deduce aloud, continuing, "He used to only wear graphic tees; maybe this is his new item to stick to."

As you smile at the memory of all the sarcastic T-shirts of his past, your phone pings. His message flashes on the screen, letting you know that he's leaving now, which means he'll be here to pick you up in about 15 minutes. You double-check that you have everything you might need - water, lip balm, keys, wallet, phone, mints. You know that the obsessive checking results from the slight anxiety you get whenever you wait for him, but you can't help it. After checking three times 'just in case,' you give it up. Standing up, you begin pacing the room and checking the clock in a habitual pattern that isn't any better. You know that there's nothing to worry about, and the anxiety fades as soon as you're with him, but this happens every time without fail.

You hear tires outside and get another message from Mingi saying that he's arrived, so you grab your bag and head out to his car. Just as usual, his presence calms you immediately. You greet him with a kiss on his cheek and a quick compliment about his ever-so-handsome face, and he laughs from a failure to accept it.

"Hello to you, too, pretty boy."

"No, no. You're the pretty boy. I'm just lucky to hang out with you."

He shakes his head at your insistence but doesn't continue the compliment volley. Rather, he begins the drive towards the mountains, asking if you're excited while pointing out how clear the sky is today.

The drive of about an hour passes calmly as you make light conversation over random topics. When you get a good way into the mountains, he pulls off the road and parks the car along the dirt and gravel side bank. With the moon brightly shining down and the stars twinkling clearly, you both take a silent moment to appreciate the scenery. After a while, you can feel his eyes on you, but you refuse to turn and make eye contact. Instead, you let the bittersweet feeling seep in a bit longer.

Breaking the silence before facing him, you muse, "I'll miss this. Hopefully, the mountains will give me views this beautiful when I move."

As you turn, you catch the boy beside you try to hide his smile. Regardless, he holds the eye contact and remains silent, so you continue to fill the emptiness with words from deep within your heart.

"No matter where I go, there's never going to be another you. I think that's what I'll miss most - you. I know I missed you these past years. I'm always going to hold you within my heart dearly. Despite timing acting against us, there will always be a part of me that hopes that we'll eventually end up together, that you aren't just the one that got away."

You catch the subtle change in his body language at the last comment thanks to the continued eye contact. The tension in his muscles pains you; you don't know how to accurately read his reaction. Is he shocked? Does he feel uncomfortable? Should you not have said it? Or, maybe, is he thinking similar thoughts? Is he conflicted over the fact that you're moving?

"Sorry. I think I rambled too much."

"No. Don't be sorry. I'm happy to hear your thoughts. It's just..." He trails off as he searches for the most appropriate word or phrase to articulate his thoughts properly, but he gives up with a shake of the head, continuing simply, "Complicated, I guess. I care for you so deeply, but there's always that fear mixed into the love of it all. I think subconsciously I always knew that you'd date me if I ever asked, but it's hard to think about how the two relationships I've had turned so sour that we aren't even friends anymore. I'm terrified of losing a life-long friend because we tried to become more than that."

The strength to keep up the eye contact dwindles as his words reach your ears. Suddenly, you feel tears streaming down your cheeks, but you refuse to wipe them away. Refuse to draw attention to them. The sentiment isn't shocking to hear - hell, you often share the same fear. But hearing it from him aloud feels so different to thinking it yourself. Adding to the fact that the only current option would be to deal with long distance on top of the layers of maneuvering a new relationship and its dynamics, it finally hits you that these hangouts and dates will turn into nothing but a fun fling.

Although you try your hardest to hide your silent tears, the moon betrays you by reflecting her light in the liquid.

"Hey, hey. Y/N, are you okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just- fuck, I'm sorry."

Now that the secret is out, you wipe away the tears and throw a smile in his direction. You don't trust your voice not to crack and bring upon more tears from the current well in your throat, but you place your hand reassuringly atop his. You hope that your message comes across clearly, but he quickly uses that hand to tug you over the center console into a hug. As your ear rests against his chest, you hear his rushed pounding heartbeat mixed with the occasional chokeback of his own tears. Quietly, you stay together like this as his heart calms and the moon slowly progresses through the dark sky on this seemingly everlasting night.

Taking in what might be the last opportunity to be together like this.

[plush-rabbit]

Johnathan Ohnn Headcanons

Request: Hi! If its okay, can you make HCs of Johnathan Ohnn with a partner who likes walking around as a stim? They're only comfortable doing it around at home/their room since they feel like its embarrassing. They literally just get up and start shuffling about. Spinning around. Like. Circling a table as if they were a hawk. Doing laps. In a silly manner. Thank you! 💞

A/N: I like to hc he has this stim because when he meets miles he does little steps and im like !!! (i also added a bit more of some other moving stims)

When you start to talk about things that interest you, Johnathan takes notice of how your whole body seems to become animated. Your hands will move around, fingers spreading open and curling over into claws, as you tell him about a new television show that you’ve recently gotten into. Slowly, your legs start to bounce, and he can see just how stimulated you are. Your legs will kick out, the tips of your feet tapping against the floor, and soon you’re up and walking around. Your voice is raised, and you stutter over your words, and he’s interested in it all, clinging to every word and nodding along as you speak without a filter. When you smile at him, bright and with teeth glinting under the light, he knows he would listen to you rant about anything as long as it’s you. 

There are moments where he can tell you’re getting nervous at how much you pace, and you’ll retreat somewhere private for a moment. He’s figured it out that you might feel embarrassed about how you stim, so he tries to make his presence aware before visiting you or giving you the space you need. Even if he does have a key to your home, he always makes sure to knock or at least give you a heads up of when he’s going to arrive. He doesn’t ever want you to feel ashamed about your stims, so he makes sure that whatever boundaries have been placed- such as you preferring your privacy- he’ll respect it without questioning it. He understands the boundaries that are placed, and he never wants to feel as if he’s trying to be privy to your every inner thought.

He’s taken into account of your spinning chair in your room with the faux leather peeled and the chair clicking when you turn. Whether he knows spinning is one of your stims or not, he takes it upon himself to get you a new spinning chair. He can see how much you like yours- how you roll around your room, how you prefer to stay seated at your desk, and the fact of how worn it is. The new chair is similar to your old one, and he doesn’t expect you to use it if you’re still clearly attached to your old one, but he does give it to you as an alternative to when your old chair starts to leave pieces of leather stuck to the back of your thighs. 

With your chair, he’s also gifted you a nice pair of headphones. Music seems to help stimulate you, and he notices that when the two of you ride in a car together, you like to replay songs or tap along with the beat. He might not know the full extent of your stimming, so he’ll try to give you things that might help in putting you in a more relaxed state. Music is common interest for most people, so he’ll make you playlists or give you access to his, to listen to when you feel energy just build up without having any sort of outlet for it to express itself in. 

If time allows for it, he likes to take walks with you. He knows how stimulated you can get and can relate to the bursts of energy, so the two of you will go on walks together to burn off the energy. You have this skip in your step, and he can tell how you want to just run by the way you jog to the nearest tree and point out a root to him, bouncing in your step and waving at him to catch up to you. While walking is a nice leisure activity for the two of you, he gets that you just need to run, so he’ll sit at a bench with a notebook on his lap as you jog around the park.

Joining you for the occasional walk brings him joy. He likes how you’ll hold his hand in yours, keeping a tight grip on it and pulling him along to everything interesting that you see. You shuffle along, slowly growing closer to him, that the two of you bump against each other, your arms wrapping around one of his, desperate to keep him close to you. Your body builds up its own tension and you pull him along, begging for him to quicken his pace, only to be met with defiance as he stands still. You slap playfully at his arm and pull forward, and he watches your back, watches as you find something that catches your gaze and steadily, he approaches you.

Being so close to you, he’s gotten better at picking up when you’re starting to have bursts of energy. Your legs will bounce, and you’ll tap at the ground, and your hands will flap. It’s easy to tell when you’re enjoying your time somewhere with him because of how much you beam. It’s written so clearly, and he can tell that you need to do something, and when the table shakes and you talk about a series that you’re watching, he’s invested in hearing your words. He latches onto every thought, nodding and asking questions, enraptured by how animated and lively you are. 

If your pacing is more of an anxiety response, he tries to take notice of what is causing you to become so anxious. You pace around, and he’ll watch, asking you questions to help bring you back down to reality. He tries to help ground you- to get you to voice your worries, but it only worsens them, and your pacing has become more rapid, more unorganized as you worry at your bottom lip. When you finally sit down, only to stand again a few moments later, he just sits there, letting you vent to him.

It’s when you're anxious does he get worried. You pace and pace, and you can’t seem to stop moving. You talk, words slurring and stuttering against one another, that it makes it difficult to keep up with your train of thought. You pace around the coffee table, and you hide yourself in the kitchen, walking back out with a bit more of a rush in your step. He tries to talk to you, to get you to calm down, but when it seems that you’re only growing more anxious, he kisses the top of your head, and motions for you to go relax in your room, to stimulate yourself until you can finally hear your thoughts. 

With Johnathan becoming The Spot, it’s gotten difficult to take walks with you. He can cover up in jackets and hats, but he still feels the stares that people give him. You rationalize that most people probably think it’s those skin-tight costumes, and while he’ll agree with a wordless nod, he still doesn’t like the stares. While he’s understood your need to walk when stimming, and has even indulged in it himself, he never got the euphoria from doing paces until then. Holding your hand in his, he likes to just run with you as if there’s something that the two of you are running from. And when the two of you are sat on the ground, grass plucked between your fingertips and your head on his shoulder, he wishes that he had run with you more, that he had taken your hand earlier and just ran until his legs gave out and until he was far away.

[harryforvogue]

Mia proof reading one of Harry’s emails or contracts trying to find something wrong but she can’t and literally making something up just to drive him crazy

"you know," harry says, looking up from his laptop. he's just left a meeting (a really long one that had mia sighing with impatience every few seconds) and now his attention is on his girlfriend who's bouncing on her heels in front of his desk. "working from home literally includes working."

they're both working from home today since they've been snowed in for the past two days. it's still snowing, in fact, and while harry is accustomed to working in his home office, this is new grounds for mia. she's always had to go to her job.

"how can i work when i'm at home?" she says, sighing again. she walks around towards him and hoists herself onto his desk, kicking her legs. "i'm in sweats. how can i concentrate when i'm in sweats?"

"change out of them," harry says.

"but i'm so cold."

"you'd probably work better too if you didn't try to do your job while still in bed."

mia groans. "but how can i resist it?"

harry shuts his laptop and leans back in his seat. mia's eyes shine. "oooh. are you done with work? do you want to--"

"i'm not done with work. i'm taking a 5 minute break to talk to my girlfriend who is still on the clock and not being a very good employee."

"you know what's also not good? capitalism. but you don't know anything about because you're a nepotism child." mia rolls her eyes. she kicks her legs for a little bit and then says, "can i sit in your lap?"

"here i thought you were going to yell at me some more for being a nepo baby."

"you are!"

"i am not denying it." he pats his thigh. "come on."

happily, she jumps off the desk and sits down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "i've missed you."

harry laughs softly when she kisses his face. "you saw me at breakfast, didn't you? and then the four times you wandered into my office just because."

"well i missed you then too."

harry turns his head and kisses her properly. she instantly melts in his arms and kisses him back.

"working from home is hard," she mumbles, breaking away from him to kiss his jaw. "i wanna do this. i don't wanna do work. i wanna kiss."

he places his hands on her hips and tugs her closer. "i know. it's terrible. it's just simply not fair that we cannot go to work in our offices because there's 4 feet of snow outside."

"don't be mean."

"i'm never mean. just honest."

"hate when you say that."

"do you?"

"now you have to make lunch today."

"hey! i made it twice already. it's your turn."

"i can't. i'm too cold. and bored." she lifts her head up. "you know i've done most of my work already. if i do the rest now, it'll be all done by the next hour and then i'll have 5 hours to do nothing! while you'll be at work pretending i don't exist!"

"i'll be working," he reminds her gently. "not ignoring you."

"same thing!"

"i really don't think that's the sa--"

"i have nothing to do!" mia dramatically complains, nuzzling against his warm neck. "i'm gonna stay here now."

harry holds her for a long time just hugging her back, rubbing her shoulders, scratching her scalp. he feels her eyes flutter shut when her eyelashes brush against his neck. he turns his head to kiss her forehead gently.

"you can't fall asleep, baby."

"i can," she mumbles. "and i will."

"you want to help me with my work?"

"i don't understand your job. makes my brain hurt."

"it'll be something you're good at."

slowly, mia lifts her head back up and blinks at him. she rubs her eye and harry holds her face firmly in between his fingers when he kisses her for it. he fucking adores her.

"mm. okay." she slides off his lap and sits back on the desk, waiting for instructions.

"i have this contract that i need you to proofread. my editor has been away on vacation so i have to make sure it's perfect before i send it over to the client."

"okay. i can do that."

harry nods and opens his laptop. he clicks around a bit until he finds the file and then hands over the laptop to her. "it's just 4 pages. take your time. my next meeting isn't for another half hour. get whatever you can done, all right?"

"if i have your laptop, what are you going to use?"

harry gestures to the ipad he's just taken out of his drawer. mia scowls and says, "nepo baby."

he smiles and leans in to kiss her softly. "thank you."

mia works on the contract for a long time. she squints down at it and rereads it several times as harry works on his own things in front of her. she enlarges the text, reads the text from back to front, and frowns deeply at it.

if harry wrote this himself with no editor, then he's actually insane.

because she can't find a single typo, a single spelling error, or a single comma out of place.

the document is perfect.

and it makes her annoyed. a little mad too.

i'll find something, she insists to herself. a mere incorrect semi colon. an extra space after a period. she'll find something!

but the more she drives herself crazy with rereading the conditions written in the contract, the more horrified she is to admit that there are no faults in the document.

harry asks her 15 minutes later, "how does it look?"

mia glances up at him. "fine."

"just fine?"

"mhm." she flexes her fingers. "actually, this third clause in the contract is a run on sentence."

"is it?"

"yeah." she turns the laptop to show him. "see? too many ideas in one sentence. and the roman numerals totally throw you off."

"that's because there are separate conditions in the existing clauses."

"make them all individual sentences."

harry hesitates. "in legal writing, it's best to use the roman numerals. especially for conditions."

mia shrugs. "fine. if you're okay with an confusing document."

"confusing, is it?"

no, mia thinks to herself. this is like the most perfect contract i've ever seen in my life. "i mean it's good. but this change would make it better."

"i think... i think i'll leave it."

"fine. you also spelled your name wrong."

"what?"

she scrolls all the way up. "see? you wrote harty styles instead of harry styles."

"i did not! you changed that!"

"i didn't. i just can't believe you don't know how to spell your own name." she clicks her tongue. "sad."

harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief and then laughs. he leans forward and takes the laptop from her, shutting the top and setting it aside. once his ipad is secured beside her, he stands and leans down on the desk. he kisses her quickly, holding her hips firm against his.

"not a single mistake, hm?" he teases, tilting his head to kiss her over and over. she whines and grabs his collar, kissing him back.

"not a single one," she complains, kissing down his neck swiftly, all the way down to his collarbones as he throws his head back and laughs softly.

"just for that, you should be the one making lunch."

she whines again, wrapping her arms around his hips to make sure he doesn't move. "take a break. please. let's go to our room."

harry peeks at the clock. "my next meeting is in barely 3 minutes, baby."

"i can't wait that long!"

he smiles and gently pries her off of him. he holds her face and says, "you'll survive." he fixes his hair and collar and then sits back down opening his laptop again.

he's instantly focused on his work again while makes mia growl and kick her legs, irritated.

he glances at her. "it's only twenty minutes."

"that's so long!"

"i'm sure you can find something to do in those twenty minutes. like your job."

mia crosses her arms and hops off his desk. she goes to head out the door, but suddenly pauses. she waits until harry is logged into his meeting to crawl under his desk and smile all innocently at him.

"mia." he says it warningly, but also breathlessly. she's certainly not imagining he way he parts his thighs to let her in between them.

"you said to make myself busy."

when harry greets his employees, mia reaches for his belt, undoing it silently.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream (invisible, using magic) slipping egg-shaped toys into Hob's ass while he is sitting in a meeting. Or, well, he hopes it's Dream and not some other supernatural entity whose interest he accidentally caught.

Hob has to sit there through the two-hours-long meeting, feeling himself be filled up more and more, without making a sound. It was easy with the first few eggs. He is loose and wet from their morning quickie and they go in easy enough. He can vaguely feel the tips of cool fingers as they press the toys in even though he is fully clothed and it doesn't make sense. He's used to things not making sense. He's also used to having to pretend to be normal while Dream fucks him or sucks him off or makes himself invisible and bounces on his cock while Hob is in an online meeting, but this one is in person.

It doesn't help that Hob has to do a lot of talking, needing to fight his cause for the department budget not to be cut. He does his best not to stutter and when it's over he is glad that he can just sit there and sweat for the rest of it. He thought the invisible entity was being very mean pushing the eggs into him while he was talking. But turns out, Dream was being nice to him. As soon as he senses that Hob doesn't need to pay attention anymore, he doubles the pace at which he inserts the eggs.

Half an hour before the end, Hob has to very discreetly loosen his belt. And by the end, his belly is heavy and visibly large. He rushes to his office where he knows Dream is eager to watch him push all those eggs back out.

- 🚒

Asdfghkkhfd yes perfect <3

Poor Hob, sitting there with his legs automatically spread in an attempt to accommodate the inexorable swell of his belly. The eggs are so cool and slippery and it almost feels nice... except for the fact that he's in public! He's so incredibly turned on, he wants so badly to moan - it feels so so good and he's honestly enjoying it so much but he's so stressed that someone is going to work out what's wrong with him.

After the meeting he stumbles to his feet, knees knocking together. Everyone wants to speak to him about his campaign against budget cuts. He's trying so hard to extricate himself because the eggs are so heavy and he's so horny, but people keep cornering him! Wanting to talk! Someone even pats his swollen little tummy and tells him that he should try to stop stress eating! The eggs move around and Hob nearly cums right there and then, in a combination of physical neediness and pure humiliation.

When he escapes his tucks his arm under his belly to support the heavy load of eggs are he awkwardly runs to his office. They jiggle are inside him and by the time he reaches safetly he actually has cum in his pants - it was just too much to cope with.

He bends over his desk with his legs spread wide, and he doesn't even bother to hold back his noises as he pushes the egg toys out one by one. Dream is right there, taking on the role of voyeur and occasionally sucking one of the toys clean when it comes out of Hob’s hole. Soon there's only one left inside - and oh dear, its much bigger than the others... perhaps Hob will have to keep it inside a bit longer.

[barefoot-inthewildestwinter]

Make your tea and your toast (part 2)

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay. I moved for/started grad school and I hadn't set up internet yet so writing kind of took a back seat! I plan to update much more frequently though. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Title: Make your tea and your toast

Summary: If he played his cards close to his chest, she never picked hers up. Emily's past slowly catches up to her and he realizes just how little he knows about her.

Word count: 10k

Ratings: Mature, eventually

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, SA, abortion, pregnancy and teen pregnancy, and violence.

February 2007

Quantico, VA

It’s 4:15 on Friday when he glances down and spots the crowd gathering at her desk. She’s gotten up from the heaps of files she’d been pouring over all day. The pads of her long fingers brushing wrinkles out of the blue fabric of her dress. She looks like a painting from where he’s sitting. Rays of sunlight from the windows in the unit all converged on her, giving her a warm, glowy aura. She was talking to someone. He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone who it was, blame it on the light. It was irrelevant. Her contagious smile had burst into laughter, silky hair bouncing across her shoulders as she moved. He could tell that she was passing out muffins to anyone that wandered into her eyesight. Asking about their weekend plans, about their families, trying to force more baked goods into their arms as they headed towards the door. 

He thought back to a couple of weeks ago. That night when he saw her blink for the first time.

Later on, he would realize she hadn’t blinked. In fact, she really hadn’t deviated from her usual manner. The only real intel on her that he had gathered from that was that she was passionate about their work. Particularly so when dealing with women who had been victimized by career psychopaths. She understood the feelings of helplessness that plagued cases. And perhaps the most revealing, she had a bit of a sleeping problem. Apart from her outfit, she had remained professional. Or rather, she remained heavily guarded, not budging an inch even in what he thought was a moment of weakness for her. What he thought was a blink wasn’t even a scratch on the surface of her. 

Though, something had certainly changed; she had shown him genuine trust beyond the minimum amount required to demonstrate her respect for his authority while also maintaining the safety of their team. Enough to take him up on his offer for solace and enough to challenge his wonted reasoning for tolerating failure in their casework.  She had even trusted him enough to allow him into her room to make sure she got some rest. 

They hadn’t spoken about that night in Nevada since it happened. Though, as Reid noted, he had been more attentive to her on the flight back to Virginia than usual. Bringing her a mug of his chamomile tea before take off and checking in with her periodically. 

It had been a week of busy work for them. Mostly tying up loose ends on previous cases, finishing case reports and a couple of individual client consults for Gideon and himself.  Leaned up against her desk, JJ is the first one to ask Prentiss what she’ll be doing this weekend. Back to him, her plans remain a mystery. Whatever her answer is, it clearly doesn’t satisfy JJ, who scowls lightly and shifts her weight to stand up straighter. He moves closer to the doorway of his office, hoping to glean details of the conversation below without arousing much suspicion. 

“We’re getting drinks this weekend,” she states, pushing loose hair over her shoulder. “And you have to come.” Her legs cross as she slides herself up onto the only free space on the desk. As if something in JJ’s words had summoned her out of her office, Garcia skipped over to the bullpen. Perching herself on Morgan’s desk, dangling her heels into the empty chair, her foot maneuvering the armrests to swivel back and forth. 

Prentiss sits down in her own chair. “We?” Her lips hang open, anticipating a quick response. He wonders if she’s asking because she hopes that he won’t be there. 

“Everyone. Me, Penelope, the team...”

 “Are you talking about this weekend? At Dubs?” Garcia interjects before Prentiss can press for further information. “Oh please come. On Sunday, after the Super Bowl, we do this every year.” She shifts her focus between the two women as they rehash the events of the previous year’s night out, arms crossed. She doesn’t appear unhappy. Just less happy than he would think her to be, given that she is often one to push for them to meet outside of the BAU. “Last year, JJ was four sheets to the wind and a couple of DC unis had to bring her home.” JJ’s eyes widen as she lunges to smack Garcia with one of Prentiss’ lighter files. 

“In my defense, the Steelers won and I grew up in a town where watching football is another form of going to church.”

“I didn’t realize you were all such big football fans.” Her question comes out as a statement, indicating that perhaps she was not one. JJ shakes her head. “Oh no, definitely not. JJ is, you could probably tell by now. Derek is, obviously, and I like to see brawny men in tights under almost any circumstance.” Prentiss and JJ share an awkward laugh. “The rest of us just passively watch the Super Bowl. It’s like a trainwreck, you know, you just can’t look away.” 

“Even Hotch is coming,” JJ offers. He smirks at this statement, not entirely sure why. Surely her answer will be ‘No’ now. “I remember him saying that Haley would be coming as well.” 

He can see her shoulders fall, releasing tension he hadn’t seen her carry. Her glowy smile returned to her lips. “Oh, good, you know, I cannot picture Gideon in a D.C. bar right now, but I am very intrigued.”

Penelope snorts a laugh back. “Yeah, neither can I.” She leans in briefly, lowering her voice half an octave. “He usually doesn’t take us up on our offers, I kind of wish he would just once though.”

“Oh, JJ. I would pay to see Gideon drunk. Maybe even just to see him have a cosmo.” After a few minutes of chatter, JJ gets up off of the desk and straightens out her blazer. “So, Emily, you’ll go with us?” He sees her nod, “Oh, definitely. What bar is it again?”

“The Auld Dubliner over in DC, everyone calls it Dubs.”  Prentiss nods, attempting to write down the name and location on a notepad against her thigh. “It’s okay, I’ll text you the address and the time we’ll probably mostly get there at.” JJ walks off, giving the desk some of its space back. He turns to go back to the files on his desk, her questions to Garcia about the dress code just within earshot. Given her upbringing, he’s sure that she is perfectly capable of choosing an appropriate outfit for any situation on her own, but he admires her attempt to win points with Garcia through fashion advice. 

At five he’d cleared his desk of open files, briefcase sitting in his chair. He’s rummaging through his coat pockets for his keys when she sneaks in. Avoiding starting a conversation with him through casual eye contact, she places three files in his inbox. Through pursed lips, she explains, “Missoula, Ann Arbor, Omaha.” He nods, the gesture freeing her to slip towards his door as quickly as she had entered through it.

“Prentiss?” he calls after her, stopping her in her tracks before she reaches the doorway. She turns on her heels to face him once more. “Yes, sir?” This time she holds her head up, allowing their eyes to meet. He detects a twinge of panic in hers. He sizes her up, noticing her nails press into her palms against the blue fabric on her dress. “Have I done something to upset you?” Her presence immediately shifts, the dark, glowy aura morphing into an apologetic one matching the blue of her dress. She shakes her head. “No, sir. You haven’t, really. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” 

He takes a moment to look her over once more, analyzing the statement beyond her words. He furrows his brows and shoots her a look, Be honest. When she doesn’t budge, he tests the waters. “I don’t mean to pry but you’ve been rather withdrawn since we came back from Golconda. If I’ve overstepped, you can tell me off.”

His relief comes when he hears her laugh sincerely. “No, it’s just me, cursing myself for making a fool of myself in front of my boss that night.” Now he’s the one shaking his head. “You did no such thing. I was put in charge of this team, I’m here for you all, for anything, anytime. Don’t tell Garcia I said that though, or she’ll try me at home more often with less remorse.” She cracks a smile, nodding in agreement. He grabs his briefcase from the seat and turns off the lamp, following her out. The unit is dim, empty aside from a couple of uniformed officers. 

“So you’ll be coming then, on Sunday?” They step into the elevator headed down to the garage. 

“Yeah, I think I will. Although the idea of potentially outing myself as a lightweight does frighten me.” They share a laugh. She looks down at her hands, twisting her thumbs.  “No, I am looking forward to it.” 

“Great, I know Haley was eager to formally meet you.” She grins at him and he can’t help but reflect it back.  The elevator stops at the first level, his stop. “See you Sunday.” He disappears behind a concrete wall. 

Her words echo through the building, “Have a good night, Hotch.” 

She hadn’t watched a minute of the game. Instead, her afternoon had been spent preparing to go out and cleaning her apartment. For a reason she couldn’t pinpoint, she felt nervous. Like she was back in high school, waiting for a date. Sure, she was still relatively new to the team, but she was in good standing with all of them. Enough to be comfortable hanging around them outside of the office. She slips on a top and some jeans, checking herself out in the mirror three times before leaving. She tosses her purse and go-bag in the passenger seat of her car before combing through her messages for an address from Garcia. 

The phone buzzes as she parks the car. The text is from Penelope; We r all here. Pretty please say ur coming soon? She replies, letting her know that she’d arrived. 

When she walks into the bar, Hotch is already sitting down, a half glass of beer left next to him. He’s wearing his brown sweater, the one he was wearing in Nevada when they last spoke. He looks relaxed, casual almost. 

“Sit, please.” His voice was softer than it had been a few days before. She obliges, hopping onto the barstool across from him. She takes this opportunity to survey the room. JJ in the back, shooting darts with two tall men she recognizes from Counterterrorism. Reid is sitting in a booth with a girl from Counterintelligence and two others she doesn’t know. He has a drink which shocks her a little bit. Morgan is leaning against another table, flirting with a couple of unsuspecting girls. 

“Hey, lady. You made it!” Garcia props herself up at their table, drink in hand, leaning into Prentiss’ side. He notices her tense lightly at the contact, biting her lower lip while briefly calculating her reply. 

“Hey, thanks for the address.”

“Yeah, no problem. You look hot by the way.” She’s wearing a silky top, no sleeves, leaving her arms bare. The neckline plunges, exposing more of her chest than she typically does at work. Her cheeks blush and he wonders if he’s been staring at her for too long. 

Penelope had only glanced at her for a second, causing Prentiss to realize that her friend had wandered over to her just to get a better view of Derek. Swirling her cocktail around with the mini straw, she is rapt. 

Emily takes a deep breath in, looking over at him, then her, then back at him. Are you seeing this? He gives her a half nod. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” Their eyes remain locked and they share a frightened laugh when they hear her purr. 

“Okay, Penelope, I love you. But, I am going to need you to take your drooling somewhere else, babe.” Garcia relinquishes her hold on Prentiss’ arm, sneering as she moves to a seat at the table in front of them. Free to sit up untethered, she turns her attention back to Hotch. “How was the game?” He bares his teeth with a brief smile. “I have no idea.”  Glass to his lips he spies her raised brow and wild eyes teeming with curiosity. “We spent the day taking Jack to the Orchid exhibit at the Museum of Natural History,” he offers. He watches as she turns away to laugh into her shoulder. Tucking her hair behind both ears, her lips still parted when she faced him again. “Was that a joke, Hotchner?”

“No, of course not. We take our perennial flowers very seriously.”

 A small, blonde woman brushes his backside before pulling a stool up between them. She recognizes her immediately from pictures and from the few times she’s seen her  in his office. “Honey, the line for the bathroom was so not short.” He mumbles and observes as the two women acknowledge each other. An elbow to the ribs snaps him out of his thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry. Prentiss, this is my wife, Haley. Haley, this is Agent Prentiss.” 

She shoots him a playfully annoyed look. “Emily, please. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you as well. Aaron talks about you often, I’ve been hoping to get a chance before now.” The use of his first name forces her smirk. Aaron.

“All good things, I hope?” Haley nods eagerly. 

“What did I miss?” She turns to Hotch. He shifts on the stool to lean into her, pointing to their team as he speaks. “Well. Jennifer is still schooling those guys at darts. Spencer is dissecting episodes of Star Trek, I think. Derek is…” They all glance over to him. “Well, Derek is in a good mood, he’s from Chicago. And Penelope may be too far gone.”

“No Jason?” Haley asks, looking up at him. He shakes his head lightly. “He had a prior commitment.” She notices him distancing her from himself. Jason, Jennifer, Spencer, Derek, Penelope. She’s Agent Prentiss. It feels impersonal. Though she still is relatively new to the team, she didn’t feel that unfamiliar. Perhaps his way of storing her in his work life and not bringing her home. Had he not been the one to initiate their friendliness?

They chat, make small talk. He can tell that she’s pulling from her past. A childhood of masterminding conversational skills. The bottom of his empty glass hits the table. Haley’s voice right after pulls her down from the spiral. “Well, I could use a drink.”

She smiles, getting up from her stool. “I’ll go, what are you drinking?”

Hotch looks over at her, judging the tension in her voice. “Guiness?” 

“I’ll have an aperol spritz, thanks.” She nods and turns away from the couple. 

He watches her make her way back towards the bar, her top rides up slightly when she bends over the bar to shout their orders. He can see their orders on her lips as she gets the attention of the bartender. She orders another beer as well. He quickly averts his eyes, feeling heat rush to  his cheeks. 

“She seems nice. Very pretty.” His wife’s words bounce off of the side of his neck. In a hushed tone, he mutters a stern ‘Haley,’ his lips barely open to let the words out. "A bit puppyish though, don't you think?" He stares at the bottom of his empty glass. “She’s new to the team, still trying to fit in. Please don’t do this.” She keeps her calm tone, “I’m just saying. I feel better knowing you have something nice to look at while you’re away.” Her words are sharp but take them both by surprise. Reaching a level of seriousness, they laugh it off.

She beams on the way back, dodging Morgan and the girls that have adhered themselves to his sides,  and careful not to spill all three drinks. “Hey Morgan, be careful. The one in the back could take your wallet” He doesn’t even look back at her. “That's alright, I'd be a broke, happy man.” She smirks in disbelief. They grab at the drinks down on the table. Saying cheers and taking much needed sips. She notices them sitting closer together than they had been, but they weren’t being affectionate. An obvious change in the air. 

“So how are they treating you at the BAU,  Emily?” She looks up at Hotch, pleading for an answer or at least a clue. “She means, am I being nice to you?” He clarifies through the drink. She looks between them, something is definitely off. She feels like an outsider but is somehow also too close to them at this moment. “Actually, everyone has been incredibly nice.” She bites her lower lip and plays with her watch. 

“Look at him move, he's like a cat,” Penelope’s words overshadow the awkwardness. 

Grateful to shift attention away from herself, she comments back, “More like a dog.”

“He did not ask them to dance, they asked him.” She laughs big at her friend’s dedication to watching Morgan grind up on strangers. She stifles her laughter. “Okay, okay. He's a cat,” she concedes. 

Haley leans into her, shouting over the music and chatter, “An alley cat.” 

“Come on, honey. Let's show them how it's done.” She stares at them as he takes Haley’s hand and pulls her towards the floor. “Oh, that is so sweet.” She promises Penelope that she’ll watch her drink  and guard her front row seat to Derek’s show, but her focus is elsewhere. Her eyes are glued further back though. Watching her boss dance with his wife. It’s obvious to her, and probably anyone else, that they are highschool sweethearts. He is so unwound around her, softer than he had been to her in Nevada by miles. She wonders how difficult it is for him to move between his lives.

In the corner of her eye, she spots JJ on the phone headed for the door, head down. When JJ comes back in, she shoots her a glance from the entrance. They have a case. She sighs and shrugs back, getting up to notify the others. 

When she gets to them, they already know. They meet her halfway, holding hands. “Party’s over?” Haley asks. Prentiss says yes, it’s urgent. “Of course. Um, honey, we drove here together.” 

“Oh, that’s right.” 

She bites her lip again, trying to refrain from overstepping. “JJ has a full car, but I can drive you to Quantico. If that’s okay.” He looks to Haley for approval. “Are you sure you can get home safe?” She nods. 

Prentiss notes the surprise in his words. As if he wasn’t expecting this reaction from his wife. Haley takes the keys from his hand, “Go on then.” She almost apologizes for stealing him away for a case, but she can tell Haley is used to it.

She looks down at her wedges when they kiss goodbye. 

When they arrive back at the BAU, they pile into the briefing room. “Coffee. Everyone.” It’s an order. They’re all giddy with laughter, if not from their own drinking, then a second-hand intoxication. They listen to Morgan brag about his conquests and watch Reid shrivel away in response to some of the details. 

He can’t help but fixate on her as she sips her coffee, gently clutching the mug in her palms. When she speaks, he feels clear-headed, the fear flushing out of his system with the alcohol. She’s still in her top, scrunching her nose as she laughs at Morgan, which cracks his poker face into a shy grin.

When Gideon and JJ enter, it’s game time. JJ presents the case. A homicide. A young, wealthy, white couple in Atlanta. Police were called to the scene by one of the unsubs before the crime was being committed. She’s zoned in, inquiring about the police response time. It had been just under five minutes.  

For a moment, he ponders the differences in their affect. Gideon, frustrated with the reason for them being called in, desperate for any and all information he can use to end it. JJ, justifiably upset that another night off has been sacrificed for a brutal criminal. Prentiss, pushing aside her personal sentiments in order to devote her full mind to the case. They all appear determined, yet they carry it so differently. 

Despite her tenacity, he catches her flinch at the mentions of sinners and religious material. He doesn’t have time to read into that now, trying to assess what they are about to step into. They’re on the jet within the hour. 

She’s changed into a button-up and blazer. They pour over the little information they have on the ride. Hotch pre-assigns them to responsibilities, giving them a chance to catch their breaths and to prepare for anything they may find. One thing is clear, they need to be prepared for a change in course. He dispatches her to the morgue to examine the bodies of the victims. She’s not as squeamish as Morgan or JJ, usually okay with this sort of thing. He’s also witnessed her insightfulness, understanding the most reasonable questions to ask the medical examiner and being able to read the body forensically.

When they all reconvene at the station, they present the information they’d gathered . She shares the details she’d obtained from the coroner. The killings were similar to that of animal slaughter consistent with knowledge of farming or hunting. Not abnormal for rural Georgia, but it was something. They note that the killings are efficient, sacrificial. 

He watches her scrawl the most important details from their words on the whiteboard. Her hair falling below her shoulders as she writes.  Gun and holster clinging to her hip, pushing her blazer aside. They discuss the religious aspect. 

He’s just sent JJ and Reid to go talk to a witness when word comes of more victims, sending the rest of them to the scene. Detective Faraday  explains that this scene is different. The victim doesn’t live in the house, he is a handy man. The husband is alive and out of town and the wife is missing. As Gideon mentions infidelity to Hotch, Prentiss pushes through the crowd to get to the body. Morgan follows close behind.  If adultery is the sin the unsubs are claiming here, she’s not sure there’s a happy ending for Mrs. Douglas. 

They head back downstairs to confirm the presence of the camera. A uniformed officer confirms the location of the husband, asking them if they want him brought in for questioning. Gideon shakes his head. “It would be a waste of time. He didn’t do this, and from the looks of it, he probably wouldn’t be able to help us find her.” He steps aside to examine the passage left for them. 

“Prentiss, Morgan,” Hotch calls, head gesturing to the door. He stumbles out the door and they throw their gloves out in the evidence bags. Needing some space from the full house, he pulls them onto the front lawn. “So, let's work this out, what does this new behavior tell us?” His words are gentle but he’s looking at her with urgency. 

Staring back at him, she supplies him with a response. “There was only one unsub this time, uh Raphael alone?” His arms are crossed, not satisfied with her answer, but not upset at her. “Not if he’s the psychotic, he wouldn’t be capable of operating this efficiently.” She agrees, nodding once. “Someone was here who could control himself. Make sure no evidence is left behind.” He keeps his eyes on her, searching for emotion behind her sunglasses. She gives him nothing, maintaining composure and intent on finding the wife.  

Derek highlights the necessity of the phone call for the unsubs, part of the signature. It’s something they are all thinking, but neglect to mention out loud, closing themselves off. He shifts to Morgan. “Have we ever seen this in case history?” Derek says no, explaining the inconsistency between restraint and psychosis. She concurs, “People with extreme psychosis don't often play well with others.” 

He’s certain they’re dealing with one unsub. Gideon rejoins them.  Raphael doesn’t exist, he says, “He’s  an archangel. We’re still not sure about the third voice.” He explains that the unsub sees Mrs. Douglas as Jezebel, an unpleasant death is in her future if it hasn’t already occurred. 

On the drive back into the station, Gideon and Morgan dive into the implications of the themes of sinning. Gideon occasionally gets lost in thought and zoning out for a mile. “Have any of you been trying to reach Garcia?" 

“I tried as we were leaving. I tried JJ as well. Prentiss, you said that you weren’t getting any signal like ten minutes back, right?” Morgan looks to the woman on his right, she gives them all a tired response. “Mm? Oh, yes. Still nothing.”

He gets her in the rear view mirror, staring out the window, biting her lower lip like she had in Nevada. Her eyes glued to the car’s roof, holding back at least one sarcastic comment. He hadn’t seen the case getting to her. He paused to consider that he had seen almost nothing to suggest that it was the case. They hadn’t stopped to rest since their night out and she hadn’t napped on the jet. Morgan and Gideon had been reciting Bible verses back and forth across her for the past hour. And they had piled into one car, none of them smelling particularly great. Well, she smells great, but that isn’t unusual. He knows she has a few scents that she circulates through, all lovely, but all very expensive. Today, she smells sweet like honey and juniper. He holds onto that as they head towards Atlanta.

Back at the station, Morgan confirms that Garcia is running voice analysis on the phone call for the third voice. When she finally gets a hold of them, she tells them a new video has been posted, and it’s already gone viral. This doesn’t fall lightly on any of them.

“Garcia, can you get this on our screens?” Hotch requests with such delicateness, she would even call it a plea. “Already on it, sir” They hear her gasp, assuming she has just accessed it herself. “Oh my sweet… No, no, no.” Looking at the faces of her colleagues, they are visibly hurt by Garcia’s reaction, remorseful that she had to see it. She sits in the bullpen, pulling up the video they were just sent. He follows suit, standing behind her, a bit surprised at her initiative to step up to ensure they stay on task. 

On the screen, this video is worse than they imagined. The unsub is reading from the bible. Mrs. Douglas tied up behind him, being ripped apart by three dogs. Prentiss is sitting at the desk, full view of the screen,Faraday sitting next to her, far enough away to be able to not look at the full screen. Morgan keeps his distance, but above her, Hotch and Gideon lean in. “Jezebel’s death.” 

On the screen, Hotch can see their reflections in front of the video. A look of disgust or shock on all their faces. Not her, she just looks bemused. “My god.” Her voice is steady. She hasn’t looked away, her frown flashes across the monitor.. Gideon and Morgan avert their gaze. Hotch has one hand firm on the back of her chair. “You can turn it off,”he tells her. Faraday grabs her wrist before she can close out. “Wait.” 

Derek recedes further back. “You haven't seen enough?”

He shakes head, moving closer to Prentiss and the screen, causing her to slide to the back of her chair. She can feel him standing over her, a protective hand on the back of her chair. “Those dogs. Those three dogs attacked someone a couple of months ago.” All eyes are on Faraday now. “I would've had them impounded, but the victim knew the owner, a neighbor. He didn't want to press charges.” Gideon lifts his head up, voice deep and shaky. “ You sure?” Faraday continues, proud of himself for recognizing them.  “As God is my witness.” He reaches for one of the notepads on the cluttered desk, flipping through the pages frantically. “Three mangy mixes, I knew those dogs looked sick. Called animal control, I don’t know if they ever followed up. Oh here it is.”

The owner is a man named Tobias Henkel. 

Prentiss looks up at the men towering over her, locking her wide eyes with Hotch’s. “We sent JJ and Reid to go talk to him hours ago.” They don’t know what to say, words stuck in their throats. She takes out her phone. “I’ve been calling them all afternoon, they haven’t picked up, there’s probably not any service out there.” She calls JJ again, letting the stark dialing tone ring. They stay put in their shock as she grabs her bag and files. “Henkel is pretty far out there?” She glances at Faraday just long enough to see him nod. “Okay, uh… We’ll need at least four unis, you all know the area better than we do… and vests. We’ve seen some of what this man is capable of. He’s in a state of psychosis, we don’t want to rush him to another victim. We won’t know until we get there, but if he has JJ and Reid, we need to proceed with extreme caution.” She’s halfway to the car before realizing that no one is behind her. She finds his deep, brown eyes again. He’s berating himself for sending their teammates to danger, he can tell. Come on, she begs him. We have to go. Now.  

“Alright, everyone. You heard Agent Prentiss.” He follows her out to the cars, grateful for her presence of mind while his was blank.

They’re beyond speeding to get to Henkel’s ranch, the sun long gone by the time they get there. Faraday directs them, Gideon and Hotch to the house, she’s going with Morgan to the barn out back. 

They slide into the barn, guns drawn, each taking a wall to move down. Their flashlights catch something. Henkel’s dogs on their sides, each with at least one gunshot.  Morgan keeps going but pauses at the next stall down. His light refracted on the blood and pink organs spilling over onto the barn floor. “Damn.”

Prentiss is walking over to see what he’s fixated on when a voice calls out behind her, hearing a familiar click she knows is from a gun. “FBI. Don’t move.” It’s  JJ. She looks distressed, her hair down, gun out,  aimed straight at them. Prentiss identifies the desperation and panic in her eyes. She’s in survival mode. 

“JJ stop. JJ, down, it’s Morgan and Prentiss. Don’t shoot, it’s okay.” His voice commands and she lowers her weapon. “Are you hurt?” Prentiss moves close to her, grabbing the gun from her hand and using her free arm to stabilize her. JJ’s voice is flat, all of her characteristic pep drained from her hours ago. “Tobias Henkel is the unsub.” 

Morgan sighs, “Yeah, we know.” An officer runs back out to call an ambulance. 

“I mean, we just thought he was a witness,” adjusting her belt, she shakes her head in denial. They look at the dogs among their feet. “I had to kill them,” she says, still not making eye contact.

“JJ, where’s Reid?” She ignores him, rambling on, riddled with disgust at the depravity. “They just completely tore her apart. There's nothing even left.” Morgan steps back, attempting to stifle his frustration with her.

Prentiss takes stock before approaching JJ with focus and authority. Her words cut clear, striking a balance between using kid’s gloves and interrogation tactics. “JJ, look at me. Look at me, where’s Reid?” She shepherds the conversation, leaving no room for JJ to veer off course. “Uh, we split up. He said he was gonna go around back.” Morgan doesn’t miss a beat, leaving them in the barn. “Where are Gideon and Hotch?” 

Prentiss is checking her for signs of injuries. “They’re checking the main house.” Sirens in the background draw her eyes up. She wraps an arm behind her, “Let’s get you out of here, Jayje.” They stumble over to the bus. Prentiss hands JJ off to the EMT rushing to meet them, pulling Faraday aside. Under her breath she asks him to keep an eye on her, he nods. 

Nothing from the men yet, she tries Garcia for a possible trace on Reid’s cell. No signal. She wanders back over to the barn, hoping to at least learn something from the tools Henkel has out there. She’s three steps in, eyes on the dogs again, then she’s called back out. “Agent Prentiss? Agent Jareau is asking for you.”

 She bites her lip hard again and tastes the salty blood flush her teeth. The request makes her feel boxed in. She wants to be able to stay with JJ, her friend, who has been incredibly kind to her since she joined the unit. Her friend who has clearly gone through a trauma and is justifiably not okay. But they also have a case to solve. One involving a deranged psychopath killer who likely has one of their agents. She checks in with Faraday before talking to JJ. “Hey, Is there any sign of him yet?”

It's raining now. She feels the sweat rinse off her cheeks. Under his hat, Faraday shakes his head at her. “We got every one of our units on the road.” She nods, giving some semblance of a response. “He won't make it far.” She knows that isn’t certain.

“They can't find Reid?” She gets closer to JJ, who is sitting in the entrance to  the ambulance, legs dangling off the back. “Not yet.” She smiles slightly, not wanting to provoke her in any way, or trigger her guilt about losing sight of Reid. Her busted lip throbs as it brushes against her teeth. 

“Prentiss.” Morgan calls her away from the paramedics, spotting JJ still half-gone, wrapped in emergency blankets and one of the officer’s coats. He lowers his voice, “I think Reid fled into the cornfield,” he gestures his head to the area behind the barn. “Looks like somebody got dragged.” Fuck, she looks back at him, aware that they both can tell how bad this may be. 

A deputy informs them that a neighboring county’s sheriff reported giving directions to a man who fit Henkels description to a motor inn in Fort Bend. 

Hotch and Gideon appear from the back of the building, neither looking any less frustrated. “JJ okay?” He asks, waiting for one of them to nod back. “Henkel’s long gone. No sign of Reid. I doubt he was ever in the house.” Gideon rubs the tension in his face around with his hands. Hotch looks at her, sensing information missing from their recap. “One of the unis got a message that a man fitting Henkel’s physical and vehicular description asked for directions to a motor inn in Fort Bend. They’re sending two cars.” She tells him.

“Good.”

Behind her, Morgan is forcefully kicking his boots into a bale of hay. “Shouldn’t we go after them as well?” He asks, looking at Hotch only for instruction.

“No, no, let them handle it. It’s likely a diversion. Henkel's too smart to leave a trace like that. The house is a time capsule, we should go through it. If Henkel has barely left in 10 years, there's gotta be something in here of use to us. Something to help us find Reid.” He watches her response to his words. She nods and then clears her throat. “I’m going to finish documenting the situation in the barn.” She’s twisting her watch around her wrist. 

Morgan prevents her from leaving with the back of his hand. “Wait, Prentiss, hold up. Do you want me to come with you? You shouldn’t be going in there alone.” She brushes past him without hesitation. Hotch evaluates the disturbance in Morgan’s intervention. He can only imagine what they had walked into. 

“I’ll be fine, Derek. Henkel’s gone, it’s not like he’s going to be there. We need to get this over with so we can turn it over to local CSI. I really don’t mind.” Knowing there’s no use in arguing with her, the three men watch her as she turns and jogs back to the barn. 

There are still two officers posted by the entrance. From their demeanor, she can tell that they can't bring themselves to step inside. She flashes them a sympathetic grin and steps into the open barn. The air is crisp with chill and freedom. Her eyes dart over to the dogs once more, teeth digging into her busted lip at the thought of JJ firing her weapon at them. This time, she does get a very good look at what Morgan had been so upset at. Organs splayed out in a pool of blood. Obviously human, and obviously fresh given the coloring. Nothing had been left. Fuck this. 

“Prentiss?”

She hadn’t heard his footsteps on the ground approaching, but she did feel them coming up behind her. When he doesn’t say anything more, she figures he’s probably just as disturbed by the scene as Morgan had been. She turns to face him. “Hotchner, I was under the impression that we’d addressed your inability to walk up to someone without acting like a lowlife.” Her words are an attempt to lighten the obvious heaviness in the air. She searches his face for signs that anything she was saying was getting through to him. His eyes narrowed, trained on the depravity beyond her, face all blank and serious. ”Hotch?” 

“Right. Right, sorry.” his expression breaks, revealing a more troubled look. His feet are still planted. 

“No, it’s okay,” she offers. “I’m just sorry you had to see this.”  She gestures behind her hips, flashing soft eyes at him. “I thought you’d be waiting outside. I’ll just need another minute or two, but I am really fine staying here alone.”

Hotch nods.  I know , he concedes. Let me stay anyway. Emily sends him a small grin of acceptance.  She turns back to the stall, snapping pictures on the team’s digital camera from a few angles. “I knew it was bad when Derek was offering to chaperone you, and I figured I’d come check on you when he wouldn’t say anything else.”

“Oh, you didn’t think that was a shot at my sensitivity?” He catches himself almost letting out a laugh. She is nothing if not witty, even at the most inappropriate of times. “Jezebel’s death,” she scoffs, dropping the camera to her hip. “No one deserves that . I mean what is the game here? Find a woman, use her as a pawn in your sick, sacrificial, religious game? It’s beyond sick.” The adrenaline rushed through her forcing words to spill out from her lips. Through her rambling, she pauses to bite her lip and play with her hair and she doesn’t break. Her tone is stern and headstrong, but not emotional. 

He finds her dedicated obsession charming, but he’s smart enough to know that it’s best that he stops her spiral before it goes too far. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll let the officers know.” They move quickly, the breeze hitting their skin as they find the doorway. She pulls him aside before they’re near the others. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Not entirely sure. Officers couldn’t find any sign of them in Fort Bend, we were right to assume it was a misdirection. Henkel’s computer setup is much more intense than we’d expected. I’m bringing in Garcia first thing tomorrow morning.” She nods. “We should get JJ some rest,” he looks over at their friend, still in the middle of a huddle of first responders at the back of the ambulance. 

“We’ll get more done if we stay at the house. That way we can keep an eye on her and keep working. She shouldn’t be alone right now.” She spots a glimpse of fear in his eyes. “Reid is smart. He can hold his own, he’ll be alright.” 

By the time they convince JJ to take the sofa, it’s past 1:00. Morgan is already out on the floor beneath her. She’s alone at the dining room table, pouring over Henkel’s diaries. She’s holding them closer to her face, undeterred by the poor lighting. When he sets a mug down by her wrist he witnesses her real smile for the first time in days. “Coffee?” She beams.   

“No, it’s chamomile, sorry to disappoint. You have a serious problem.” He sits in the chair beside her, a mug of his own held away from the stack of journals between them. Her smile slips into an offended glare. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want milk or honey?” Her brow furrows, deeping her glare, he laughs.

“I wanted coffee. You don’t get to deprive me of feeling joy just because this case is a living nightmare.”

He sips his tea slowly. “I don’t believe anyone else could fault me for denying an obsessive insomniac caffeine at this hour. So yes, this definitely qualifies as a problem, Prentiss.” She scowls and shakes her head, returning to the journals. “You know, they put up cots in the upstairs landing, if you claim one now, you could get at least a couple hours before everyone starts back up in the morning.” He’s tiptoeing. 

“Forget it, Hotch. I am so not sleeping tonight.” She drops her wrist, revealing her whole face. Her cheeks flushed. “Hey, did Haley get home okay the other night? Have you even spoken to her and Jack since we left?” He feels his smile fade. 

“I called her from the jet when we landed and again a couple hours ago. They were already asleep, I left a voicemail.”

Her fingers wrap around the mug in front of her, staring down into hot tea. “Do you ever feel bad?” She rephrases,  “Doesn’t it bother you, not being home, missing all of the ‘Goodnights’?”

He swallows a mouthful of tea. “Of course it does. But when I’m away on a case, I have to be able to set personal troubles aside. When we’re home, I’m there for Jack's bedtime and I call when we’re away. He’s only one, but I’d like to think the effort means something above abandonment to him. I don’t have it down to a science.” He lifts the porcelain mug to his lips, disappointed to find it empty. “I value priorities, but I can’t live with the idea of Jack growing up thinking that I’ll always put work above him. I don’t know, maybe we’re doomed to inherit things from our parents that we swore we’d be better than.” Her face falls down to the ugly linen placemats, trying to appear unaffected by his statements. He considers the opinions on politics she’d hurled at him in her first month in the unit and the time he’d spent in her mother’s office fourteen years ago. “Emily, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything.” She shrugs him off. 

“I know, there’s nothing to imply anyway. Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss is an impressive woman, but she is also my mother.” He narrows his eyes, That wasn’t really an answer. “Besides Hotch, you care enough to try, that’s not worth nothing. You should get some sleep though, it’s been a long day and you’ve got to get Garcia early.” He’s still studying her when she returns to the diaries a minute later. 

She’s right, he should have gone to bed hours ago. He forces himself up to find a cot to fall onto. “Goodnight. At least try to sleep for once.”

Garcia had spent almost every second since she’d arrived in the computer room, but Prentiss and Gideon were in deep. They spend the day moving through the house, combing through milk crates and shelves full of diaries. They don’t speak often, only when necessary.

“Hey,” she perks up. “I have got a list of Narcotics Anonymous meetings with someone’s name and numbers on it, but it looks to be about 12 years old.” Her voice falls.

“Try it. There are no bad leads.” He peels away at the wallpaper revealing words written over and over, recitation punishment. “Is that latin?” She knows that it is. “Honor thy father.” 

They head down to consult with the others. “Go on ahead, I’ll get JJ.” Behind the ajar bathroom door, she hears the faucet run. Her knock on the inside of the door is met with a gun drawn at chest height. “Hey, hey, hey, JJ. It’s me.”  Her stern voice is enough to get her to lower the weapon. “Are you alright?”

“Uh yeah, I'm sorry you scared me.” Her voice is shaky and she won’t make eye contact

.

Recognizing her friend’s jumpiness, she apologizes. “I'm sorry. I'm talking tomorrow morning to some guy who knew Henkel from Narcotics Anonymous. Why don't you come with me, get out of the house?” JJ agrees. “Okay, great.” She walks away to give her some space and privacy to tend to her wounds.

“Emily?”

“Yeah?” Prentiss turns back to find JJ close in front of her.

“How come none of this gets to you?”

She puts confusion in her brows. “What do you mean?” Maybe if she buys enough time, she can change the subject.

“You came off a desk job. Now suddenly, you're in the field surrounded by mutilated bodies and you don't even flinch.” She feels Hotch come up behind her again. Now she’s definitely trapped. 

“She's right,” his quiet voice pulls her to face him. “You’ve never blinked.” He’s close, too close. 

“I guess maybe I compartmentalize better than most people.” She answers only him. Their gazes locked, each searching for hints in the other’s eyes. Another bad answer , he prods. She shoots back, Please, don’t do this.

Before he can unpack her answer, his thoughts are interrupted by Morgan. “Hey guys, I think I got something.” She exhales briefly before chasing them out back. 

They wait for the coroner to retrieve Henkel’s father before heading back in. Tonight, she heads straight for the cots, avoiding niceties. She can see him following her in her periphery, but before he can speak she lies down with her back to him and stares at the wall.

They spend the next day learning more about Tobias, not getting any closer to finding him and Reid. She and JJ had gone to meet with the NA contact that morning. They’d learned that Henkel’s father was extremely abusive, becoming especially violent after his mother left. She was discussing the significance of the intel with Hotch and Gideon when Morgan called them in for Garcia. They see Reid on the monitor screen, alive but tied to a chair in an empty room. 

Prentiss gets closer to Garcia, gasping hard when she sees the bruising on Reid. “He’s been beaten.” In the background she hears Gideon berating Penelope, unloading the guilt he feels for losing Reid onto her. Henkel is asking Reid to choose a victim. He knows they're watching them. 

Tobias’ growls boom across the livestream. “You really see inside men's minds. See these vermin, choose one to die, I'll let you choose one to live.” Reid’s voice is weak, they can barely hear it. “No,” he repeats as Henkel provokes him until he breaks. Tobias tells them the name and address of the woman on the screen, giving Gideon the chance to call and warn her. He instructs the woman to turn off the camera and she complies. 

In response, Henkel shuts off the camera giving them access to Reid without missing a beat. Morgan storms out, Garcia desperately attacks the keyboard, searching for some way to pull the view back up. Gideon, too dumbfounded to speak, staggered out into the hallway. 

There are two new victims within the hour. Slaughtered, same as the others. “I’ve got roadblocks out for a 15 mile radius. Every unit is on the road, but so far nothing.” They move through the scene with annoyance, identifying the new bible verse left for them by Henkel. Gideon tries to get a message to Reid through the Hayes’ video camera. 

The others finish combing through the scene but Hotch pulls Gideon aside. “We’re not getting any closer,” he confesses with a hint of worry that Gideon is virtually devoid of. Even he is not sure if he’s seeking reassurance or Gideon’s informed advice.  

“Reid’s brilliant, he'll figure out how to survive.”

It’s true, though it wasn’t the reassurance he was looking for. “You know,” he bites his lip. “I always take advantage of Reid for his brain, but I never teach him how to deal with things emotionally.”

Gideon isn’t paying him much attention, but offers his sympathy. “You lead by example.” He feels his stomach drop. “Well, what kind of example is that?”

Sensing enough insecurity in Hotch’s tone, Gideon lifts his head to face him. “He'll make it.”

On the drive back, he can’t help but run through his performance as unit chief. He’d like to think that he knows his team, that he matches their needs. But with Reid, it was delicate. He had taken advantage of him lately, especially with the pressure they were getting from Strauss. And then there was Prentiss. He was sure that he wasn’t giving her the support she deserved. She was beyond  holding her own in this case though something was off. It was as if she was too put together. 

While the rest of them had gotten cottonmouth watching Reid’s collapse and resuscitation, she had narrowed the radius of their location drastically. When Henkel pushes Reid to pick one of them to die, he can see her eyes pleading for him to choose her. Me , her lips purse. The prayers go unanswered and he hears his name escape from Reid’s mouth. “He’s a classic narcissist. He thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team. Genesis 23:4 ‘Let him not deceive himself in trust, in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility, for these shall be his recompense.”  She looks at him and their eyes meet again. That isn’t right she tells him, he sends a small nod to her and steps out into the hall. They all follow close behind. “I’m not a narcissist.” 

Gideon is the first to soothe his ego. “Oh come on look, you can’t take anything he says right now seriously.” They talk over each other briefly. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about–”  

“He's trying to identify with him-“ 

“No, no. Stop. Stop. Alright everybody right now, what’s my worst quality?” They look back at him, confused, mouths open. “Okay, I'll start, I have no sense of humor.”

JJ chimes in, “You're a bully.” He nods “ I’m a bully.”

“You can be a drill sergeant sometimes.” He’s heard this from Morgan many times over the years on nights out, it was starting to lose its effect on him. “Right.” He looks to Gideon for another response.

Prentiss beats him to it, “You don’t trust women as much as men.” The sentiment had clearly been brewing for some time. It’s a fair shot, he’ll give her that but it still stings him. Regardless, they have no time to address it now. 

“Okay, good. I'm all these things, but none of you said that i ever put myself above the team, because I don't. Ever. Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism and he knew that I would remember that. He also quoted Genesis chapter 23 verse 4, read it.” He hands JJ the bible like he’s submitting it into evidence. 

“I am a stranger and a sojourner with you. Give me proper burial place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.”

Gidepn smirks with pride. He’s sending them a message. 

“He wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose”

They quickly decode Reid’s message and identify his location. The moment they arrive at Marshall Plantation they check the cabin. “Clear.” “Clear.” They aren’t there, but they have been. 

They move through the woods on foot, guns drawn. A single shot leads them to Reid, leaning over Henkel. She follows Hotch hurrying to lift him up and steady his weight. She lets him take control. “Are you alright?”

Reid leans deeper into Hotch and she steps back. “ I knew you'd understand.” He wraps his arms around him. They all look on with adoration. She feels awkward as she watches him embrace JJ and then Morgan and Gideon. When he asks for a moment alone with Tobias, they oblige, walking a few yards back to the road. 

Medics on the scene advise them that Reid should be seen by doctors at the nearest hospital. He’s too drained to argue. They send him with JJ and Morgan, but Penelope, riddled with anxiety, tags along. 

“One more night in Georgia won’t kill us.” 

She lets out a shaky laugh, “It won’t, but we are definitely staying in a motel. I’ve spent as much time in Henkel’s life this week as I could possibly bare.” Gideon nods and they pile into the last SUV on the scene.

They’re sitting in the lot of the motel they’d driven past everyday in this case. Parked under the neon sign with the ‘NO’ burned out of the ‘No Vacancy’. Despite the rundown feel of the building, the parking lot was nearly full.  She wouldn’t complain though, they’d certainly stayed in worse places. Hotch has gone in to book the rooms, leaving her and Gideon to sit in tired silence. 

“You did good, kid.” He doesn’t look back to her. 

She stares at the back of his head. Unsure of his exact intentions, even with the compliment, she takes pause. “Oh, uh, really it was the team. Henkel faced a challenge to the beliefs he was indoctrinated with and suffered a psychotic break as a result. You had him nailed to the wall. I’m just glad to have Reid back with us.” She’s rambling too fast and she knows it. 

“Prentiss?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You did good work. Just take the compliment.” His words draw a smile out of her. 

“Right. Thank you, sir.”

Hotch comes back with a handful of room keys. “We’ve got five.”  Handing one to Gideon who takes it as an invitation to turn in. 

“Goodnight. Try not to stir up any more trouble.”

They both bid him goodnight and stifle chuckles  as he lightly jogs to his room. He turns back to her, lowering his tone. “I spoke to Derek. Reid looks much better than before, they’re pretty backed up at the emergency room but he should be discharged soon.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “We can figure out the rest of the arrangements when they get back. Reid can stay with me or Morgan and I figured Garcia would also want to stay with you or JJ.” 

“Excellent profiling skills, Agent Hotchner.” She grins and takes one of the remaining keys. “Truly astounding.”

She’s already headed towards the rooms when he jogs along to catch up with her. “Prentiss, wait.”

WIthout pause or looking back, she slows her pace and they walk side by side. “Yes, sir?”

He taps her forearm lightly, asking her to stop for a second so he can read her face. “This was a demanding case and you threw yourself into it, deep. I just want to know how you’re doing?”. 

He examines the crease in nose, her wide eyes, and the lines on her lips, something he’d gotten used to doing in the few months since he’d really accepted her as a member of his team. Waves of her hair tamed under the neckline of her FBI windbreaker. He certainly didn’t mind the challenge of studying her. She gives him nothing other than slight relief. “Oh, I’m fine, sir. Just really thankful that we were able to get Reid back.” JJ was right, Prentiss had come off a job with almost no field work. He made a mental note to look over her file again when they got back to Quantico. He’ll let it slide for now, he has enough to worry about with JJ and Reid and the inevitable lasting effects this will have on them. “I’m just going to shower. Are you turning in now?” 

He can’t be sure why she asks. “I’m going to get settled and then I’ll probably wait for the others out here.” Her key unlocks her door. 

“I think I’ll join you. The night is still young.”

Prentiss beats him out. Her hair now soaking and tied back but it glows under the streetlight. He finds her sitting on the bench in the courtyard, legs crossed and a heel dangling off the foot lifted in the air. He looks on as her outstretched arm retracts and she takes a drag from the cigarette between her fingers. 

He clears his throat. “Prentiss, it’s just me.” She gestures for him to sit and makes room for him.

When he lets the silence hang for a moment as he stares at her. “I know, I know. ‘These things will kill me.’”

He claims innocence, laughing at her sarcasm, lifting his hands to his chest briefly. He’s brushing the dirt and ash off of his brown jacket, “I wasn't going to say anything.” He looks up to tell her that smoking is in fact not good for her but is met with an offering to him. He shakes his head and she rolls her eyes back at him

It’s her time to size him up, her face softer than it had been in days. “I have to say, this whole ‘casual Hotch’ thing is very entertaining.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Hey, have  you spoken to Jack or Haley?” He looks tired. No, it’s late,  he says.  “Call them now.” She’s pushing him.

He pulls out his personal phone. To his surprise, she answers. “Oh, hi, Honey. No, no, everything is fine… We were able to get Spencer out safely. How are you? How is Jack? Did he go down easy? Oh no, I keep that in his crib… Oh, great. No, I’ll get it done… Saturday night, I got it. … I know it’s late, I just finally got away and I wanted to say Goodnight. Right, I’m sorry.”

She’s absorbing up the conversation with what could be considered admiration for him. Eyes fixed on his, and the twitch in his lip when he’s clearly annoyed. The background almost completely drowned out.

She’s pulled out of it by a concerned “Emily?” She bites at the loose skin near her lower lip. “What’s on your mind?”

“Do you think that people can just… be evil?” His brow furrows. “Do you believe that we are innately good? Or are some people just born evil, in need of saving?”

He thinks back to all of her casual shutters at the mention of sin, finding excuses to leave the room if possible. “Well, I think we’ve seen in this case that committing sin doesn’t equate to being evil.”

Emily lets out a shaky sigh. “Right, I know that, it’s just-” Her voice trails off into a pause and his concerned glare deepens.

They watch their second SUV drive up and hear the engine stop. They search for Reid, grateful to find him stable but not looking much better. The rest of their team was worn out. They meet halfway and Hotch hands them their room keys, Morgan and Reid, JJ and Garcia, they split off with half-hearted “Goodnight”s. 

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight, Emily.”

He watches her flash him a smile and vanish behind the motel door, leaving him alone in the cold.

[eldrai]

Strength In The Open (+ bonus)

Read the main fic here

5+1 gen fic with autistic!Hotch, focused around stimming and team interactions.

I also have a not-yet-proofread bonus that’s technically unrelated to the main fic but I couldn’t not write Hotchgan about it too. So this is set after chapter 6 and it will make more sense if you’ve read the fic, but it’s not necessary to read with the rest of the fic.

The terrible part is it makes sense.

Derek feels guilty, somehow, irrationally, for not noticing it; he spends enough time around Aaron he should’ve noticed how often he buries his hands in his pockets or folds his arms to keep them still – out of sight – and doubly so considering he’s a profiler.

He knows it’s the entire point. He knows it’s not his fault. He knows the whole point of it was to be secret and subtle.

That does not make it any better.

Aaron hadn’t said more on the subject before they’d gone inside, but when they sat back down around the table, Derek searched it up and scrolled through page after page of results – promoting it for children with autism, primarily, then explanations, then a handful of testimonies scattered throughout. There are studies on it. He’d ask Reid if he had a reason to bring up the topic naturally but for now his own skim reading will have to do.

It isn’t a good picture.

He’s only seen a handful of photos of Aaron as a kid, even fewer anecdotes about his childhood, and he can’t stop them coming to the forefront of his mind. Adults holding him down. Forcing his hands flat and still. Hitting him.

They don’t talk about it, not amongst a crowded precinct, not when the team grab dinner, not when they get back to the hotel. Aaron sits at the desk with a small mountain of paperwork and Derek spreads the photos across the bed to try and make sense of their unsub and spends more time glancing over at Aaron’s bouncing leg or his thumb flicking over his fingers than he does on the case.

They’re not distracting. Just little habits he’s seeing in a new light.

A comfortable silence fills the room and it lasts until they’re getting ready for bed and Derek’s flipping between useless apps on his phone while Aaron’s brushing his teeth.

He’s noticed it before, in an offhand kind of way, how Aaron always does it in exactly that order. Brush his teeth (pacing in slow, lazy circles as he does) and then returns to get the glass he left on his nightstand, to fill it with water twice: first to drink from, then to top it up again. Every hotel, every night at home, the same. Derek finds it endearing; he’ll hear the bathroom light clicking on, knows to wait for the second set of footsteps which tell Aaron’s coming to bed.

Repetitive isn’t a bad thing.

Sometimes – when he doesn’t notice Derek looking – Aaron’s fingers will tap against his leg in a faint rhythm. And tonight he’s brushing his teeth with his other hand flapping in the same casual manner.

Derek isn’t intending to stare, he really isn’t. There’s just something in the contentedness of it, getting to see more clearly than anything short of an outright declaration Aaron’s that comfortable around him. In seeing him so at ease when he spends so much of his time stifling the parts of him they taught him to. It isn’t fair they took that simple pleasure from him – that and so much more - and not at all that they replaced it with a shame so deep it’s taken the better part of four decades to even begin unlearning, but watching him reclaim it…

It leaves a melancholy warmth in his chest. Grief for the fact it’s necessary, and joy Aaron can.

He realises he might’ve been staring a little too long when Aaron stops.

“What?” Aaron asks through a mouthful of toothpaste. He slides his other hand into his pockets.

“Nothing,” Derek says, because he doesn’t want Aaron to worry, then: “Just you,” because Aaron will worry if he doesn’t specify.

Aaron gives him a second quizzical look. His gaze lingers.

“You were stimming,” Derek says. There’s still an air of awkwardness to the words, clinical and new, saying them out loud. Fuck, it’s not even his disorder and he feels weird saying it – he can’t imagine what kind of shame Aaron is trying to work through.

All the more reason to talk about it, then.

His response is little more than a hum. His face drops into a flat neutral and he turns away to spit foamy toothpaste into the sink. Derek sits up and pads into the bathroom as Aaron’s rinsing the last of it down the drain.

“I wasn’t watching deliberately,” Derek says. Aaron meets his eyes in the mirror for a second then his gaze falls away again. “I just… it’s shitty that you’ve got to be ashamed of it, and I know it’s for you, but it’s nice. ‘Cause I know it helps you or you’re feeling good and I get to see a reminder of that when you’re doing it.

Aaron rinses his toothbrush for far too long and Derek’s heart sinks a little when he says nothing.

“I like seeing you happy,” Derek says. “And look, I wish everything wasn’t the way it was and it’d be fine whenever, but I’m glad you can relax when it’s just us.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Aaron says wearily.

“I don’t have to,” Derek agrees, “but I wanted to. That, and I can’t enjoy looking at you from time to time?”

“Because toothpaste is that attractive,” he deadpans.

“Mostly you,” Derek says, and though it gets Aaron’s lips to twitch it’s not the smile he’d hoped for. His eyes are distant, distracted, clouded with the same thoughts keeping his hands still.

Aaron’s gaze flicks off to the side like it does when he’s thinking of something particularly emotional; he only looks back at Derek when he talks, then he’s flat and factual: “This isn’t what you signed up for.”

He’s not moving so Derek sidles up closer behind him instead and drapes an arm over his chest, pulls Aaron lightly against him. “Bullshit. It’s exactly what I did.”

Aaron shakes his head with a frustrated sigh and pulls away from Derek, his hands splayed out on the counter, head ducked down. “If I’d have known—”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” Derek says.

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you,” he says. The words feel cold once they’re out of his mouth, almost cruel, but from Aaron’s silence he knows it’s had the intended effect – breaking him out of his spiralling hypotheticals. Because they don’t know that (well, Derek does) and they can’t so there’s no use worrying.

He wonders if that’s where all the repressed energy ends up, anxious thoughts racing around inside Aaron’s head. It really wouldn’t surprise him.

“So we’ve got a word for it now, that’s great. But your brain’s always been the same,” Derek says. “I’d love you if we never knew and I’d love you if we always had.”

Aaron says nothing but he lets himself lean back, relaxing against Derek, which constitutes an answer in and of itself.

“When I say I love you,” Derek says, reaching for Aaron’s hand, “I mean all of you. You know that, right?”

His hand is ink-stained and cold as Derek raises it to his lips and presses a soft kiss over his knuckles. Tension bleeds from Aaron’s shoulders with a quiet exhale. His dark eyes are bright.

“I know,” Aaron says. He squeezes Derek’s hand. “You too.”

[senashenta]

Horror High: Chapter Eight

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Thank you to the few people who have commented so far, I appreciate your feedback. And while I would love more, I thrive on interaction with the readers, I think I’ve decided to just write the sequel to Horror High (Storm Season) even if no one else reads it, just because I’m enjoying writing in this verse. I already have FIVE one-shots written that take place after Horror High and leading up to Storm Season (which were mostly written for the sake of smut, tbh, though one or two do have a bit of a plot) to post once I’m done posting Horror High as well, so… I’ve been busy. Haha. Can also be read HERE ON AO3. <3

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Eight By Senashenta

Dean gave it a whole twelve hours before he went to Cas’s house to check up on him, and the entire time he was waiting he was antsy, pacing the motel room or sitting with one leg bouncing restlessly while he scribbled in his notebook; notes about the Hunt, notes about the flamethrowers and how to improve them, notes about Sam, notes about Cas. Just generally driving Sam crazy. Specifically not calling their dad to tell him he’d finished the job they were in town for.

When Sam finally had enough of Dean climbing the walls, he slammed his laptop shut with a frustrated noise and ordered; “just go already!”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his spare jacket from the back of the chair he had been sitting on and headed for the door.

It was a forty-five minute walk from the motel to Cas’s house, give or take, but Dean made it in significantly less than that. He arrived on Cas’s doorstep slightly disheveled and a bit out of breath and had to take a minute to collect himself and fix his clothes before knocking on the front door.

When Chuck answered after a brief wait, Dean put on his best smile and greeted, “hi, Chuck!”

Chuck just sighed and stepped aside. “Castiel is in his room resting. He’s not feeling very well today, I think he has the flu. But he’ll be happy to see you, the same as always. Just go on up, Dean. But try not to wake him up if he’s asleep, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks.” Dean scooted past Chuck, paused just long enough to take his shoes off in the entryway, then made his way through the house and up the stairs to Cas’s room. He rapped lightly on the door, but when there was no answer, he went in anyway, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Cas was nothing but a lump under the covers on the bed. He didn’t move when Dean came in, though Dean had been stealthy about it. Now he just shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the desk chair before crossing over to the bed, where he carefully pulled back the blankets and eased in under them with the other boy.

Cas mumbled something in his sleep, and when Dean tucked up beside him, he nuzzled closer with a murmur, ending up with his face buried in Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s arms carefully wrapped around him. Dean pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’m so glad you’re not dead. I’d’ve had to kill you if you were.”

There was a brief silence, and then Cas’s voice spoke up, muffled by Dean’s shirt, “feels like I’m dying, though. Pass me the painkillers.”

A quiet chuckle and Dean stretched to reach for the nightstand, rummaging in the drawer before coming up with the bottle of aspirin. “Sorry we didn’t have anything stronger for you.”

Cas gave a minute shrug and struggled to sit up for a moment before giving up and half-collapsing back into Dean’s chest. Dean made a soft worried noise and gently adjusted so they were both half-propped-up by the pillows. “You had the antibiotics, that’s good enough. I’m managing with just aspirin.” Cas took the bottle of painkillers and tipped three out into his palm, then swallowed them quickly. Dean set the bottle on the nightstand once he was done with it. “It hasn’t even been a day yet, Dean, what are you doing here?”

Dean just wrapped him up in his arms and leaned his chin in Cas’s hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Had to come check on you. Make sure you were still alive. Cas, I…”

“I know, Dean…”

“No, you don’t know.” The older boy made a frustrated noise and resisted the urge to tighten his hold on Cas, knowing it would hurt him. “How could you be so stupid? You’re smarter than that. You’re not a Hunter, you’re just a civilian, you could have been killed! You got hurt. Badly, and that just…” Dean swallowed slightly and buried his face in Cas’s hair, “shit, Cas, I thought you might die and my whole world was just collapsing around me, I… I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“But I didn’t.” Cas pointed out softly.

“But you could have.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas, you can’t do that again… you can’t be that stupid again, okay? Not ever. Not for any reason. Promise me.”

Cas swallowed a little and then pushed himself up with a wince to look Dean in the eye. He gave him what he hoped was a reassuring, though slightly pained, smile. “I promise, Dean.” Then he shifted just a bit and asked, “help me change my bandages? I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Dean blew out a breath and finally offered a smile of his own, “yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Lets’ get you up.”

With Dean’s help, Cas managed to climb out of bed and make his way to the bathroom, more than aware that he was looking rough, just dressed in boxers and his borrowed t-shirt, his hair a mess, bags under his eyes and moving tentatively, trying not to limp.

Dean didn’t comment, only helped him through to sit on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom, then dug under the sink for the bandages when Cas directed him to them. That was apparently where he kept his first-aid kit. Dean made a mental note to bring more bandages over from their stash at the motel next time he came.

While Dean was rummaging, Cas struggled to pull his shirt off but eventually had to give up with a frustrated sound. Dean gave him a little smile, set the first-aid supplies on the counter, and moved over to help. “Arms up. Careful. Slowly.” Carefully tugging the t-shirt up and off, he joked, “any other time this would be totally hot.”

“Dean,” Cas protested, one hand coming up to rest against his bandages, “I would but I think it might kill me right now.”

Dean snorted a laugh. He crouched down in front of Cas and leaned in for a brief kiss—but of course nothing more. Then he just began gently pulling at the tape around Cas’s bandages, easing it off and pulling the bandages away to reveal the wounds beneath. His smile faded out at the sight. He let his fingers trail along the edge of one of the gashes lightly. “They look better. Not great, but better than last night. How do they feel?”

“Painful.” Cas answered truthfully, watching Dean inspect his injuries with remarkably sharp blue eyes, considering how much he was hurting. “And I’m filthy. I know you and Sam cleaned me up the best you could, but I need a shower.”

“Can you stand on your own long enough to have one?”

It was a valid question. Cas considered before asking, “you could come with me?”

“Cas,” Dean’s hands dropped down to rest against Cas’s thighs, squeezing there restlessly, and he shook his head, “come on, you know what you’re asking, don’t you? That’s a lot even for me. I’m strong but I’m not that strong.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make you help me have a shower in a couple days, when I’m a little sturdier.” Then a pause, followed by a little smile, “thank you for always looking out for me, Dean.” The other boy always had his best interests at heart, it seemed. “I’m sorry I let you down… with the jorogumo thing.”

“You didn’t let me down. You came through for me when I needed a hand. You just scared the shit out of me in the process.” Dean leaned up, dragging him into another kiss, slow and deep. When they broke apart a breathless moment later, he grinned at Cas and grabbed for the bottle of alcohol. “This is gonna sting. A lot.”

Despite the warning and even though he braced himself for it, Cas still found himself cursing under his breath the entire time Dean cleaned out his wounds and re-bandaged them. His father would have been disappointed. At least Dean was efficient at it and got the job done quickly, tossing the old, bloody bandages into the trash when he was finished and then tucking the rest of the first-aid supplies back where they had come from.

Once he had washed the blood off his hands, Dean helped Cas back into his shirt and then out of the bathroom and back over to the bed, where Cas painfully crawled under the covers and motioned for Dean to do the same. Dean went willingly, climbing into the bed and tucking Cas into his side again, one hand resting lightly over his bandaged ribs.

“I haven’t called Dad yet,” Dean admitted after a long silence. His eyes were on the ceiling, absently counting the stars there while he felt Cas just breathing along with him. Cas had his own eyes closed and his head resting on Dean’s shoulder. “I was supposed to call as soon as the Hunt was done. He’s gonna be pissed. But…” The hand on Cas’s side rubbed, just the gentlest of touches. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I don’t want you to leave at all.” Cas admitted softly, eyes still closed.

“I know. I don’t…” Trailing off, Dean made a soft, frustrated sound and thumped his head against the pillows. It wasn’t like he wanted to leave, either, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “Cas,” he said finally, “I don’t want to leave, but you know how it is for me. You know.”

“Yes. I know.” Cas agreed, one hand sliding to rest against Dean’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat, so he wouldn’t ever forget it. “When will you call your Dad?”

“In two or three days, I think.” Dean replied quietly, “once I know you’re alright.”

“I’m alright now.” Cas pointed out, a little smile on his face, “with you. I’m always alright when I’m with you.”

“You’re better off without me. You got hurt because of me.”

“I thought I got hurt because I was being stupid?”

“That, too.” Dean agreed.

Cas hummed. “What if I just came with you?”

A chuckle, the laughter rumbling in Dean’s chest, under Cas’s palm. “My Dad would freak out. Your Dad would freak out. Basically, all the Dads would freak out.” Then a pause and he admitted, “not that you wouldn’t be a welcome distraction on the road. Although we would be sharing a room with Sam and Dad and they probably wouldn’t appreciate our… closeness. Sam already mocks me for it, and he hasn’t seen the worst of it by far.”

“We would have to have our own room.” Cas agreed, tapping one finger against Dean’s shirt, “or sex couldn’t happen and that would be… unfortunate.”

Dean grinned at him. “You’re terrible.”

Cas lifted his head to return the grin with a smile of his own. “You were thinking the same thing.”

“Guilty.” Dean agreed. He angled for a kiss and Cas was happy to oblige. “Mm. I’m pretty much always thinking about being in bed with you.” Then he amended, “but this kind of being in bed with you is nice, too. I’m going to miss it.”

“Me too.” Cas returned his head to Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling into the side of his neck with a hum, pressing a gentle kiss against where his pulse was pounding. “I’m also going to miss spending lunch hour with you at school. It’ll be weird when you’re gone.”

“Start eating lunch with Charlie and your other friends,” Dean suggested.

“Mm, but they aren’t you. It won’t be the sam—” The younger boy interrupted himself with a yawn and settled even more into Dean’s side, almost boneless. The aspirin was finally kicking in, and he was comfortable, warm, and exhausted. “Dean, I think I need to sleep some more. Will you stay while I have a nap?”

Dean was already pulling the covers up around them a bit more. He dropped a kiss against Cas’s hair again. “Get some rest, Cas. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

-- --

They fell into a rhythm, Dean visiting every day ‘after school’, even though he had stopped going to school as soon as the whole jorogumo thing was over and done with. But Cas’s father didn’t need to know that—it would be hard to explain—so Dean just dropped by in the afternoons after school was out for the day anyway so Chuck wouldn’t know the difference.

Cas was always glad to see him, though for the first couple of days he had been rather tired and sleepy, just his body’s reaction to his injuries, trying to kickstart the healing process. The antibiotics helped, he was sure, as did Dean helping to change his bandages every day, since he couldn’t exactly ask his father to do it.

But through it all, he continued to feel… gross. Dirty. He still has dried blood and dirt flecked across his skin from the initial wounds, though Dean and Sam had done their best at the time to clean him up. Also, he hadn’t showered in days, leaving him feeling greasy. His hair was disgusting. Honestly, he didn’t know how Dean could stand cuddling up with him when he came to visit, but he did so faithfully, each and every day. Still.

“Help me with a shower today?”

They were in the bathroom and Dean was in the process of carefully peeling his bandages off when Cas spoke up—and the older boy paused. Green eyes flicked up at him, then back down to his wounds, and after a moment he asked, “are you sure? You could wait another couple days.”

“Dean, I’m disgusting.” Cas stated flatly, then; “and it can’t be good for my cuts. I’m supposed to be keeping them clean, right?”

“You’re not disgusting, you’re just—” Dean broke off when Cas stared at him hard and cleared his throat before finishing with, “okay, you’re mildly disgusting. But your cuts actually look okay.” He returned his attention to removing the bandages, tossing them in the trash and then finally allowing; “alright, I’ll help you shower. But no funny business.”

Cas’s lips quirked in an amused smile. “Are you saying that to me or yourself?”

“Both.” Dean confirmed with a little half-grin. He stood up and helped Cas to his feet as well, then began the process of stripping them both down, Cas helping where he could, though it was still hard for him to bend or twist too much. Those movements pulled at his injuries.

When Dean stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it to the side, Cas was surprised to see two short slashes, already well into healing, marking the right side of his chest. Dean was already reaching for Cas’s shorts, but Cas caught his hands, frowning slightly before reaching up to touch along the cuts. Dean didn’t even twitch. “You didn’t tell me you got hurt, too.”

Dean glanced down at his own chest and sighed. “It was nothing, just a little flesh wound. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s brows drew together in concern, but when Dean leaned in and pulled him into a kiss, he allowed it. “Dean…” But then he trailed off, just stepping closer to the older boy, almost pressing against him, making Dean grumble softly. “Sorry.” Cas apologized, not really meaning it. He wanted to be close to Dean—needed it, even. Craved it. “Thank you for this.”

“Just… I’m afraid of hurting you.” Dean admitted after a brief hesitation. “You’re still injured.”

“I am.” Cas agreed, and reached for Dean’s pants, starting to undo them with deft fingers. “But I desperately need to get cleaned up, Dean, and I don’t think I can do it alone.” Smiling, he glanced up at Dean even as he pushed the older boy’s jeans down over his hips, “luckily you’re around to help me.”

“Yeah. Luckily.” Dean swallowed audibly but got himself out of his jeans the rest of the way and then reached to tug Cas’s boxers down. “This is a bad idea and we both know it.”

A quiet hum as he stepped out of his shorts. Cas shrugged with one shoulder. “Probably.” Then he let his hands come to rest against Dean’s abdomen, just still there for a few breaths before he began tugging at the older teen’s boxers, pulling them down as far as he could without bending over or crouching down. “Take these off, please. You can’t wear them in the shower.”

Dean made a quiet agreeing noise and shucked out of his boxers, all the while pretending that he wasn’t already half-hard. Cas just watched him with obvious amusement in his eyes. “There, happy now?” Dean muttered finally, turning to start the shower up.

“Yes.” Cas agreed, stifling the urge to laugh. “But I’m always happy when I’m with you, Dean.”

“Always? Really?”

“Mm. Really.”

“I… yeah. Me too, Cas.” And then; “come on, the water’s ready.”

The two of them climbed into the shower together and Cas heaved a long, heavy sigh at the feeling of the water cascading over him, humming happily as he reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing at his hair with only a little discomfort from the pull of the wounds on his side—and completely oblivious to the fact that Dean was watching him, probably too closely. He gave a content little groan while he was rinsing the suds away—at which point Dean echoed the sound and forced his gaze to the floor, watching the soap, tinted with blood and dirt, wash down the drain instead.

“Cas, c’mon, you’re killing me, here.”

���Sorry, Dean.” He wasn’t really. He was the opposite of sorry. But he had also reached the extent of what he could reasonably do on his own, so Cas picked up a cloth and the soap and pressed them into Dean’s hands. “Here, I need you to do this part.”

“This is not going to kill me any less.” Dean informed him dryly.

“Sorry.” Cas repeated with an amused smile, then; “you knew what you were signing up for.”

A little grumble but Dean didn’t protest because he knew it was true. Instead, he focused on lathering the soap into the cloth—which, frankly, didn’t seem soft enough for Cas’s injured skin, as far as he was concerned—and then stepping closer to the younger boy. “Lift your arms up a bit.” He muttered, and when Cas complied, he began gently washing the grime from him, working carefully over the gashes to get rid of the last of the dried blood, and then moving on to the rest of the dirt that was still smeared across his chest from the Hunt. Underneath the surface dirt were the bruises, though, mottled and in various stages of healing. Dean frowned to himself at the sight. “How do the bruises feel?”

Cas shifted and dropped his arms back to his sides, turning so Dean could clean up his back; “they’re sore, but they’re not terrible.”

“They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.” Dean agreed, tentatively cleaning up the gouges that scored all around to the back of his ribs. “You got lucky.” When he was finished with Cas’s back, Dean nudged him to turn around again—and then hesitated before sliding the cloth down and over Cas’s abdomen, washing gently.

Cas shifted a little again at the attention, shuffling from one foot to the other and back again. He was very quickly getting hard from Dean’s hands on him. Finally, he swallowed and managed weakly, “I’m sorry, Dean. I know we were joking around, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean’s voice came out rough and his hand slowed to a stop. He leaned in to press a kiss to Cas’s forehead. “I’m in the same boat.”

“I’d noticed.”

They were both fully, undeniably hard now, cocks straining against their stomachs, and after a short hesitation, Dean dropped the soap and washcloth and planted one hand on Cas’s chest to gently push him back against the wall. Then he ducked his head to kiss along Cas’s jaw and down to the crook of his neck—before sinking down to his knees.

“Dean,” Cas protested, one hand already grabbing at Dean’s hair, “you really don’t hav—ah!”

Despite his not-really-complaint, Dean was already tentatively licking over the head of his cock and Cas thought his knees might give out already. This was something new between them—definitely unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. Dean’s mouth was hot, wet velvet, sliding down the length of his cock and it was perfect.

Cas’s head fell back against the wall, and he pulled at Dean’s hair absently. “God, Dean…!”

Dean actually pulled off of him with an obscenely wet noise and coughed out, “enough with the hair pulling, Cas.”

Cas barked a breathless laugh—“Sorry.”—and loosened his grip on Dean’s hair, smoothing his fingers through the wet strands gently. “Didn’t mean to.”

Dean muttered a garbled “s’okay” and then went right back to what he had been doing, sucking up and down Cas’s cock like it was candy, and considering it was, Cas assumed, his first time giving a blowjob to someone, Cas thought he was doing a freaking fantastic job. Then again, it wasn’t like he had anything to compare it to, either. Still. Cas was left leaning heavily back against the tiles, biting his lip hard to muffle his moans and one hand down, buried in Dean’s hair, fingers carding through the wet strands—carefully this time, reverently.

After another minute of gasping for air and trying desperately to keep his hips still, Cas cracked his eyes open and looked down and—God. Dean was on his knees, one arm up and braced against the tile wall beside Cas, the opposite hand resting against Cas’s thigh, gripping there tightly, possibly to keep himself from jerking off along with everything else he was doing. His cock was hard, though, straining red against his belly and making Cas swallow thickly.

Unable to do much else, the younger boy whined softly, watching Dean suck up and down his cock for a long moment—and then Dean’s eyes, which had previously been closed, opened—and he looked up, meeting Cas’s gaze.

Cas moaned, head falling back again, and his hips bucked as he came abruptly.

Dean didn’t pull away, instead swallowing every drop before easing back, licking his lips absently. Cas’s head lolled to the side, and he looked down again with a little smile, then watched Dean carefully climb to his feet. Dean wrapped an arm around him when he pressed close and leaned in for a kiss.

His boyfriend tasted of salt and musk and something else vaguely alkaline but undeniable. Cas kissed back, slow and languid, and slid one hand around between them, down to palm against Dean’s still-obvious erection. Dean uttered a soft groan and ducked his head to nose into the crook of Cas’s neck.

“I told you this was a bad idea…” He muttered.

“Mm.” Cas agreed, even as he started to stroke, jerking Dean off quick and easy. “But I’m not complaining…”

Dean braced his free hand against the wall beside Cas and muffled another groan into the other teen’s skin. Cas just continued stroking, ducking his head to press little kisses along Dean’s shoulder with a smile.

When Dean came a short time later, painting his cum across Cas’s hand and abdomen, he pressed his forehead tightly into the crook of Cas’s neck and took several panting breaths, steadying himself. By that time Cas’s own breathing had evened out and he just rubbed one hand up and down Dean’s back for a long moment. Then Dean eased back from him to stand up properly and offered him an actual, sheepish grin.

Cas brought his hand up to lick at his fingers for a second, then rinsed the rest of Dean’s cum off under the shower spray. After that he pushed away from the wall and offered a smile of his own. “What was that all about?”

Dean just shrugged and glanced aside. “I figured that—uh, you know—wouldn’t pull your injuries.”

The older boy was being adorably bashful. Cas reached out to pull him closer and leaned in to kiss him gently. “Thank you.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for a blowjob.” Dean muttered against his lips, embarrassed.

“But it was good.” Cas protested, “don’t you say ‘thank you’ when people give you nice things?”

“Like blowjobs, though?” Dean sounded incredulous.

“Definitely like blowjobs.” Cas confirmed with a nod.

“I don’t like the number of times we’re saying the word ‘blowjob’.” Dean informed him flatly, then, “the hot water’s starting to run out, we should get out of the shower. I’ll help you dry off and get your cuts bandaged up again.”

Dean reached around Cas to turn the water off (just in time, it was starting to edge into nippy territory) and the two of them climbed out of the shower, water puddling on the floor as they dried off—Cas dropped a towel down to mop it up when they were done. Then Cas was returned to his place sitting on the closed toilet seat so that Dean could bandage him up again. At least this time he was clean—and it felt a lot better that way.

Once his bandages were done, Cas insisted on tossing his dirty clothes in the laundry hamper and digging out a new t-shirt and pair of boxers from his dresser, so wandered through to the bedroom to do exactly that while Dean finished pulling on his own clothing. By the time Dean made it through to the bedroom after him, Cas was dressed again, sort of, and already crawling back into bed.

He motioned for Dean to join him. “Come on.”

There was a bit of shuffling around while Dean crossed over to the bed and climbed in beside Cas, pulling the covers over the both of them and settling with the younger boy comfortably tucked against his side, one of Cas’s arms flung over Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s hands resting lightly, carefully against Cas’s injured ribs, gentleness reserved for very few people in his life.

Cas basked in the care that Dean showed him, always did, from sitting with him at lunch at school to sharing the details of his life to kisses and touches and bandaging him up now that he was wounded. Dean sometimes struggled to show his affection, but he was good at it in his own way and getting better day-by-day. Cas appreciated it all.

Right now, he especially appreciated Dean’s warmth and the rhythm of this breathing, the steady beat of his heart.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. The… word you think we were saying too much.” Cas spoke up after a long few moments of silence. Dean didn’t reply right away, just trailed his hand up to thread his fingers through Cas’s hair gently. Cas hummed and leaned into the touch. “Not that I don’t appreciate it. Because I do. But it was your first time… doing that. Right? So, I’m just saying. It wasn’t necessary.”

“But you liked it, right?” Dean rumbled after a pause.

“Mm. I really did.” Cas agreed. “I mean. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Then I don’t regret it even a single bit.”

Cas tightened his arm around Dean in a little hug and turned his head to drop a kiss against his chest. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Dean chuckled. “I’m the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“I really don’t think it is.” The older boy sounded amused, laughter tinging his words, “the point is you’ve got nothing to compare it to. You can’t say I’m the best when there are no others in the running.”

Cas frowned up at him slightly. “Do I need to list off all the amazing things about you?”

“Please do.” Dean grinned back.

“You’re incorrigible.” He dropped his head back on Dean’s chest, making the other teen mutter an ‘oof’, and was quiet for a long moment before shifting his arm around Dean absently and murmuring; “you said I make you feel cared for, but it’s the same with me. You obviously care for me, Dean, and that’s… it’s a novelty for me. You’ve protected me right from the moment we met. You’re… strong, and smart, and funny, and humble about it all—most of the time, anyway. You take care of me, in every sense of the term…” Trailing off a bit, he brought his hand up to toy with the front of Dean’s shirt absently, “you’re an amazing big brother to Sam, even if he’s at an age where he doesn’t appreciate it. You’re an amazing Hunter. You’re an incredible person. An incredible friend. An absolutely extraordinary boyfriend.” His fingers paused, then, and he smiled, glancing up at Dean once more, “also you’re tremendously good-looking. That’s always a plus.”

Dean was quiet, just looking down at him, but Cas could see the gears working in his head. He returned his own head to Dean’s chest again, closing his eyes to listen to his heartbeat with a little, content smile on his face.

“Since I got hurt,” He continued after a brief pause, “which was not in any way your fault, by the way, you’ve spent all your free time over here, or as much as possible, anyway, just checking on me and taking care of me. You change my bandages every day, though soon I should be able to do it myself. You even helped me have a shower today, and I cannot understate how grateful I am for that. I feel so much better now. And when we were in the shower and I got—excited—you helped with that, too. All you do is help me and take care of me. You’re always there for me. I can’t even tell you how much all of it means to me, Dean...”

When Cas trailed off, just going back to toying with the front of Dean’s shirt absently, there was another long silence. Not uncomfortable—they were long past uncomfortable silences between the two of them—but contemplative on Dean’s part. Cas was just waiting for his boyfriend to finish computing everything he had said so he could respond.

“Cas,” When Dean spoke up finally, his voice came out soft; “I think you see things in me that no one else does. And… I’m not saying you’re wrong or that those things aren’t there, I just…” Shifting absently, he sighed, “I think you look deeper than other people bother to. You see parts of me that I don’t lay bare for just anyone. But there’s something about you, and it’s been there right from the start, that makes me want to open up to you and not keep any part of me a secret. Does that make sense?”

“Mmhm,” Cas agreed quietly, “I feel the same way.”

“I told you about Hunting, and my Dad and Sammy… and my Mom. About my nightmares.” Dean continued, “I’ve never told anyone that stuff before. The stuff about my family and Hunting is… it’s secret. It’s sacred. That’s the one big rule, never telling anyone about all that, but with you it just… came out. And I don’t regret telling you even for a second.” Then a pause and he added with a little chuckle, “though I might when my Dad finds out.”

“When?”

“He has a way of figuring out these things. It’s just a matter of time.” Dean muttered, then brightened a little again to add, “but I think dealing with Dad’s wrath… you’re worth it, when it eventually happens. No regrets with you, not ever.”

“Not even the blatant homophobia at school?”

A soft laugh, “nah, those jokers don’t scare me.”

“You punched one of them in the face.” Cas pointed out. “Three times.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it.” Dean grumbled. The hand that had been in Cas’s hair paused briefly before his fingers continue stroking gently, generally making a mess of the still-damp strands. “I really don’t miss that school. I mean at all.”

“I still have to go there until the end of the year.” Cas sighed. “At least it’s just a few more months.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be around to deal with the assholes for you, Cas.”

“Mm-mm.” A soft negative noise, “I understand. I know your case is over, you’ve got to move on. Just don’t forget to text and video chat, right?”

“I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

“Me too.” Cas shifted, making a little uncomfortable noise, and patted his hand against Dean’s chest, “Dean, pass me the aspirin.”

Dean dug the bottle of pills out of the bedside table and passed them to Cas, who swallowed a couple and then handed them back to be put away again. He really did wish they’d had something stronger to give the other boy—codene, maybe, that was easy to come by—but they hadn’t, so he was making do with over-the-counter stuff. Cas didn’t complain, though, even though it was obvious that he was in pain.

Dean’s hand slid back down to rest gently over Cas’s bandaged ribs again, even as he glanced at the clock. Nearly seven. He really needed to go, even if Chuck hadn’t come in to kick him out of the house yet. He did need to keep an eye on Sam while they were still at the motel by themselves, even if Sam was mostly capable of taking care of himself. But…

Dean didn’t want to go. He never did, when he was with Cas, whether it was eating lunch with him under the bleachers or cuddling up in bed with him the way he was now. He craved Cas’s company, his companionship, the physical and emotional closeness between them. Hell, he would move right in here if he could. But that wasn’t an option for so many reasons, so he just kept leaving and then coming back as soon as he possibly could.

Soon even that would be a thing of the past.

“I’m not even looking at you and I can see you frowning.” Cas spoke up, head back on Dean’s chest and eyes closed once more, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. “You have to leave soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I—it’s almost seven.” Dean confirmed. “I’m surprised your Dad hasn’t come in to kick me out yet, honestly.”

“He must be busy writing.” Cas began shifting, sliding away from Dean’s side a little and then leaning up to give him a quick kiss. “You should go, though. Sam will be wondering what’s taking you so long, and I should get some rest. I’m exhausted. You wore me out.”

Dean actually laughed at that—and pulled him into another kiss, this one deeper, longer. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He promised when they parted a moment later.

Cas just smiled, the expression overly fond. “Of course you will.”