#How To Get Back At Your Ex Wife Eye-Opening Cool Tips

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

“I know.”

...Did she, really?

Because it seemed like there was still rather a lot the vault-dweller was bafflingly oblivious about, in spite of how well she'd managed to handle her crash course in wasteland survival so far.

"Then quit whinin'," The Ghoul suggested without opening his eyes, blunt in his nonchalant disregard for whatever existential crisis was going through that head of hers.

He didn't expect forgiveness for how he'd treated her last time their paths had crossed. He certainly didn't expect her to forget.

But this wouldn't work, if she couldn't adjust to the change in circumstances. Out here, things weren't so black and white as she was probably used to. Allies and enemies weren't fixed things. The very people that tried to kill you could be your drinking buddies the next week.

Dogmeat stiffened against his leg at the crack of thunder overhead; from the fact that she was still panting in the cool shade of the bunker, The Ghoul could tell she was a little stressed out by the storm too.

But she was obviously handling that stress better than the vault-dweller. Even without looking, he heard that startle response.

...Was she really setting up her bedroll on the floor right next to him and the dog, as if being close to her grudging traveling companions would provide any more safety than the thick walls around them?

For someone who didn't like being 'stuck' with him, vaultie sure did seem keen to stick close.

The Ghoul let out a little amused snort of air from the cavernous socket where his nose used to be, but made no comment. It didn't require him to move, after all, so why the fuck would it matter where she chose to settle?

“So why are you coming with me then? You can also leave. I don’t know how these storms work but I doubt they’re anything for you to jump at, yknow…?”

For a stretch of several seconds, The Ghoul didn't reply. Mulled over her words, instead.

Sure, he could have kept going through the storm; it didn't make him feel sick the way it did with smoothskins like her. But Dogmeat also would have been harmed by the high level of rads - and in any case, whether Lucy realised it or not, she was his best bet at finally tracking down his family.

Her direct tie to his ex-wife's former assistant was too valuable a connection to ignore. Their goals were aligned enough that there was a strong incentive to team up, in spite of their unpleasant history and his preference to operate alone.

He felt Dogmeat shift, felt her tail start to wag softly against the mattress; evidently she was getting some kind of attention from the vault-dweller.

Which meant that Lucy was very close.

The Ghoul's eyes opened beneath his hat, and he tipped his head sideways just enough to give him a view of her. She was giving Dogmeat chin scritches, and steadfastly not looking at him, but all too clearly awaiting some kind of answer.

...Well, fine then.

"...I've been searchin' for your makers since before you were even made, sweetheart. Never turned up any solid leads - 'til you came out here lookin' for your daddy, an' led me right to one."

The memory of Henry's stricken face when he'd realised who he was would be forever seared into his memory. From that coward's expression when he'd asked his question, Barb's former assistant had known the answer. And one way or another, The Ghoul was intent on making him spill the truth.

Even if it was just a matter of letting the panicked idiot blunder his way across the wasteland in power armour and leave a nice, obvious trail to follow back to Vault Tec's HQ (or whatever the fuck sort of emergency management base they had.)

"Way I see it, we're after the same thing, an' two heads are better than one on this kinda journey. Call it a mutually beneficial arrangement."

@canary-in-a-vault

out of all the people in the world, i had to get stuck with you. - @canary-in-a-vault (hello!! I hope sending a starter sentence is ok!)

This little abandoned bunker had been stripped pretty clean of anything useful long ago, but at least it was a place to wait out the latest rad-storm. By the thick layer of undisturbed dust, they were the first to crash here in a long while. Between that and the shitty weather overhead, it was as good time as any to get some rest.

Vaultie didn't seem delighted by the unscheduled stop.

Or maybe the reality of her situation was finally starting to sink in, seeping through the shock of everything that had happened.

At her words, The Ghoul's mouth twitched upwards at the corner; a sardonic little smile, edged with something sharp.

"Ain't no rope 'round your neck this time, sweetheart," he pointed out, low and shrewd, as he made a point of making himself comfortable on the thoroughly worn sofa bed in the corner. Dogmeat promptly hopped up and flopped next to him - just as keen to capitalize on a surface more cushioned than the hard ground.

Maybe her shiny Brotherhood Knight boy would have offered it to her instead of just wordlessly calling dibs. Maybe they'd have been friendly enough with each other to agree to share it.

Maybe he'd have offered better comfort, too.

But she'd made her choice, and The Ghoul wasn't about to let her forget it. Just as he wasn't about to coddle her.

"Nothin' keepin' you here with me. You fancy takin' your chances out there on your lonesome, or findin' more agreeable company - well, you know where the door is."

With that, he tipped his hat down over his eyes and settled back to wait out the storm. It was unlikely he'd actually be able to fall asleep - but at least if it looked like he was taking a nap, maybe it would set the vault-dweller at ease enough to snatch some of the rest she so very obviously needed, in turn. After all, the last thing he wanted was her slowing them down.

Then you should've given her the sofa bed, shouldn't you?

...Whatever. He was here now. And the floor had carpet.

@canary-in-a-vault

[imaginedreamwrite]

Oooh for monster Monday could we please check in on fae Jefferson and his accidental/forced human bride??

“Jefferson, be nice!” You hiss at him and swat at his chest moments before you open the door to face a tall, broad Fae with deep coiffed brown hair, and the human beside him.

“Barber, still confining the humans to unbreakable contracts?” Jefferson’s voice seems cool and clipped but there is a level of respect lingering in his voice.

“Is that the way you caught your wife?” The fae’s eyes has lingered on you, the corner of his lips twitching.

“You have right to speak, Andy. I came to you for help getting my ex off my back and you bound me to you.” His wife had scoffed and smacked his chest, her delicate and gingham summer dress laced with gold thread.

“A gift,” Jefferson mumbled in your ear, “for the happy couple on their wedding day.”

“You made it?” You looked back at Jefferson, your eyes searching his.

“I created a lot for Mr. Barber. In exchange he gave me tips of how to keep my own human.”

“Jefferson-!” You turned and attempted to whack him across the should, your wrist grabbed and your body turned until you were chest to chest.

“And what a perfect little human I found. So sweet yet spicy-“

“You���re gonna get my spicy foot up your ass-“ you grumbled, your protest was silenced by his lips laying against yours and his hands slipping down the back of your dress to the curve of your ass.

“If we can interrupt,” Andy’s voice cut through your moment, “you invited us for dinner so our humans can play together-“

“Andy!” His wife bit at him, her eyes narrowing. “We’re not dogs!”

“Of course, honey.” Andy crooned affectionately. “But you know Fae only trust other Fae and-“

“And nothing. If you’re going to be condescending, I’m going to drive a stake knife through your heart.” She gave him a look, a particularly nasty glare that had sent the Fae back into a position to gain favour with his wife.

“They’re assholes.” You pulled away from Jefferson and shot Andy a dirty look, already liking his wife but not so keen on the other Fae. “They can’t help it. Its in their nature.”

“Fae are not worth their trouble.” She sighed and then set her hand on her belly subconsciously. “Andy tricked me-“

“You didn’t read the contract love.” Andy corrected.

“And now I’m married, can’t break that bond.”

“Jefferson bribed a shopkeeper to give me a ring. Or the ring found me or some shit. I woke up here, tied to a bed.” You frowned and furrowed your brows. “A contract? Really?”

“Andy stopped me from grabbing one of those cursed rings and then tricked me through a contract.” Andy’s wife sighed again, and then removed her hand from her belly to spin the ring around her finger.

“Can’t live with them-“ you glanced at her.

“-can’t hire a lawyer and leave unattached.”

[spikesbimbo]

Silver spoon

Pairing: ukai Ikkei x f!reader

Tags: made this a Mafia au just so he would have a reason to have a gun, nurse!reader, actual age agp, gilf, gun play, gun fucking (?), idk giving his gun sum sloppy toppy, oral sex, creampie

Summary: how to be a beneficiary 

wc: 3.5k

@keishinslove , come get ur mans, ; ), @fawn-daydreams thanks so much for the pic! @dreamsandabyss

18 + Minors dni

“Look, someone has to have it...” he spoke into the phone, leaning back as you did with him. The feeling of his warm body against yours putting you to sleep, resting your head on his chest as you curled up into him. 

His smirk widened as he ran his hand down your sides, enjoying your company as you grew more comfortable in his lap, the feeling of cold hard metal touching your skin as you adjusted yourself on his legs, seeing it peek from below his waistband, handle hanging out of his belt reminded you of what he was, breaking you out of your daydream.

Looking up at him as your hands rested on his chest and neck, pulling away from his stroking his scuff and fingers untangling themselves from his golden chain. Getting off his thighs seeing as this call was going to last long, legs growing numb, jestering with your hands that you were going to the kitchen, responding with a subtle nod as he watched you leave.

Hearing his voice get sterner, sending chills down your spine as his tone changed completely. “Send guards up there to get him…. and hold him until they arrive.” Seeing that he got confirmation, as his head tilted back, a sigh escaping lips as he rubbed his eyes. Eyebrows furrowing, not knowing if you should have left him there alone, just putting it in the back of your head that you left some time for him to cool down.

Walking down the staircase headed towards the kitchen, almost still getting lost in this villa as you remember him telling the first time you came here ‘it was down the staircase and to the left’. Stopping to look at the big picture of him hung up on the wall followed by many others, looking like a victorian portrait encased in the glass frames made you realize how big of a name they really were, generations following you down the hall as you continued moving down the steps.

Finally seeing the walls of windows and the bar you felt relieved, walking up to the fridge and opening it, seeing every drink but water. Grabbing some type of lemonade as you leaned against the marble counter while you took a sip, tasting the unknown alcohol in it as it hit the back of your throat, quickly coughing while smacking your chest a few times to calm it down. Tears filling your eyes as you shakily set the glass down.

“Sorry about that. Should've probably just drank it all yesterday.” 

You turned your blurry eyes to see his grandson, an almost spitting image of him when he was younger, noticing him handing you some water that you wanted in the first place.

“What a surprise...” you choked out, lifting the bottle to your mouth, throat finally feeling some ease.

The two of you had an almost sibling-like relationship, starting from the moment he met you after you patched his friend up in an alleyway, not even questing or caring why, moving on with your day like nothing happened.

Guessing you were on your way home from work, seeing you in scrubs, and after running into you again he swore it was fate. Persuading you to join them as you easily said yes, knowing you wouldn't say no the salary and the ‘benefits’ that came along with it, just wanting to finally relax with your student loans paid off.

But the last thing he would've expected after all of this, was you, with his grandad. Essentially getting yourself stuck in this kind of life, knowing that you'd never be able to leave as soon as they found out you were 'with’ him. But you obviously had a smart head on you, letting you do whatever your heart wanted as he supported you. Grabbing another drink from the bar, this time knowing it was alcohol as you two joked around for a minute.

A smile appearing on your face when you heard steps walking towards you, seeing ikkei appear from the corner of the hallway as keishin turned his head and guessed right, looking at you already skip over to him like a puppy following its owner.

Greeting you while he let you cling onto him, arms wrapped around his as he lifted his hand saying hello to his grandson. All his attention on your pretty little smile as his thumb traced your cheek, bringing up your hand to his lips, placing his lips on it gently as you were acting like you've never been touched before, giggling shyly into his arm as he chuckled out.

Keishin gagging at the sight before him, “Why don't you just retire already,” not wanting to see this cringy shit anymore, but deep down just wanting him to be safe and content, never seeing him smile this hard in his life. Knowing he's never felt this way before, his ex wife being set up by an arranged marriage, she wasn't bad but he definitely didn't love her along with her complaining, but luckily a quick swipe of his card shut her up, finally divorcing after all theses years.

“My dad isn't still too young to take over, you know?”  

“No.” he stated, stepping outside to light his cigar, resting his back against the wall as he took a puff. “Great men are taught, not born.” He uttered out, choking on the smoke as he brought it back up to his lips. He was dependable, not regretting having his son at a young age, but swearing to never push this life on his son and grandson until he was gone.

“Yeah, he's stubborn.” keishin uttered under his breath, running his hands through his hair as he grabbed his drink and keys, walking towards the door while waving a quick goodbye to you.

“How the hell is someone younger than me gonna be my step grandma, can’t get someone your own age to date you?” he chuckled out in awe. But at the end of the day he was on your side, family was family, defending you like your own personal bodyguard. Hearing something along the lines of “She’s some old man’s sugar baby.” almost daily until he ‘took care of it’ a few months ago.

“You're just mad, that an old man like me gets more than you.” ikkei laughed, coughing out the rest of the smoke while coming up behind you. Wrapping his arm around your waist already pulling you back to his office as you gladly let him.

“Ok, shitty old man.” keshin replied, closing the door behind him. He knew it wasn't because of the money or the power, because there were many other men on his level trying to win your attention. Thinking there must be something going on in your head to be with him, and there was.

Love.

The first man to ever make you feel some type of way, to make you blush. Was it practical, no. Putting it to the back of your head that he would be long gone by the time you were even close to his age.

But the way he made you feel so light and free around him after only being here for a while. Looking into your eyes as you fixed him up, making you genuinely laugh as he didn't want you to stress over him, surprising him that you were just naturally calm.

You two fell for each other quickly, not even lasting a week before you two fucked. Hearts appearing in your eyes around him; not caring about having your own family, just becoming part of his as he always kept his promises. 

“You wanna go out later.” he said loosely wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling you back into his lap. “m’sorry i haven't had time for you lately.” Looking up at his gray hair, eyes moving down to his body still this toned after all these years, aging like the finest wine.

“No.” you mumbled out, fingers running down his chest, getting caught up in his chain again. “Just wanna…..stay with you.” A shy smirk appearing on your face as the words left your lips.

Leaning into your shoulder, lips touching your neck as he whispered into your ear, scruff tickling your jaw as you let out a slight smile.“Stay with me, hmm? And what does that entail...?” 

Already getting off his thighs, standing in front of him as you ran your hands up your body, his joining you as he wrapped them around your waist pulling you closer to him, chin resting on your stomach while his hands gently rested on your hips. “No one has ever managed to capture my attention like you have.” he said, hands lingering on you.

He had no shame in admitting it, his words plaguing your head, “I always tell the truth, no matter how hard it is.” Looking up to your flustered face, no one could ever make you feel as loved and appreciated as him.

“Ok old man.” you giggled out, taking your time stripping in front of him. Resting your hand on his shoulder for support as you slowly slid your skirt down, hugging your ass just right as you felt his soft, intense gaze never once leaving you. Eyeing you up as you fumbled with your buttons, hands meeting yours taking it off for you, being bare as the day you were born.

“You getting on your knees pretty girl?”

Nodding while letting out a quiet, shy “yeah” at the words that left his mouth. Lowering yourself onto the ground, trying to replace your timidness that only came around him. Hands resting on his knees working their way up his thighs, his stress already disappearing as your fingers played with his zipper, eyes locking with yours as you pulled it down.

The nervousness leaving you as his warm hand rested on your cheek, whimpering in need as your gaze fell on the hard cold metal that was standing before his cock. Resting on his abdomen, cunt growing wetter at the thought of the previous events, wanting it in your mouth, fucked down your throat.

Reading your mind, already loosening his pants enough to set it free. Pointer finger resting on the side as he parted your lips, immediately giving way. Tongue sticking out lewdly, spit and drool already falling off the tip of it, his other hand angling it down toward your mouth. “You trust me, don’t you Baby?”

Moaning out another muffled “yeah” at the weight of the barrel resting on your tongue, pushing it deeper down your mouth, the whines getting caught at the back of your throat. Body growing tingly, cunt leaking onto the floor as he gently bobbed your head head back and forth until you got the hang of it.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck... your sweet little mouth taking it all.” Whimpering at his words, eyes fluttering open at him, meeting his gaze as your vision grew blurry. Hands reaching for his cock, working there way up his thighs until you felt his bulge, groaning at the touch. Wanting to make him feel as good as you.

Letting your spit make a mess on his fingers as he slowly pushed the glock farther down until you choked on the muzzle. Pulling it out at the lewd sound of your wet gasp, catching your breath, looking at your lashes still wet, lips covered in drool. Dragging the spit covered barrel down, sliding between your tits pressing it against your nipples, shivering at the cold feeling. 

“You gonna let me fuck your throat, sweetheart?”

Nodding quickly, letting out a strained “mhmm” as you moved your fingers around the base of his cock. Adjusting himself as he stroked it a few times before letting you take control. A moan leaving his mouth as you tilted your head to kiss his tip, parting your lips without his help as you flicked your tongue against it, your shiny lips making a mess already.

“Fuck angel, such a good girl. Open up that little mouth more for me sweetheart.” His hand came behind your neck, the firm grip leaving your mouth open as he pulled himself out, admiring the sight below him as the praise made you listen to his silent command. Soft wet smacks from him slapping the head of his cock against your tongue, looking so lewd, like the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life.

“… goddamn baby. Fuck…”

His scratchy voice letting out another moan as he leaned back onto the headrest of the couch. Your trembling hands gripping onto his thighs, nails leaving imprints as he continued to abuse your throat. The office was quiet besides the filthy wet sounds of you choking around him.

Opening your lids and gazing up at him, pupils so wide and eyes so red. Looking the prettiest you could, so needy and compliant, letting him use your throat as he pleased. “That’s it, angel… oh, fuck…m’gonna-”

Tears freely down your cheeks as you gagged, little strings of saliva dripping from your chin, body on fire as his thrusts got rougher, fucking up into your mouth as his hands gripped tighter around your neck holding you in place.

Sealing your lips around him, sucking in more as his hips stalled, grabbing your head with both of his hands. And with a long groan, music to your ears, shoving your face all the way down into his crotch, balls resting on your chin as you felt him release in your mouth, so hot and thick. Doing as you were told, always wanting to be his good girl, someone he could always rely on, someone he could always use when needed.

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek as dizzily shook your head up and down. Reaching his hand forward, tipping your jaw upward to see you better. Cunt throbbing as his eyes met yours, clenching and releasing around nothing while he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips. 

“Words, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and stern, ordering you around gently as you did you best to choke it out.

“y-yes”

“Let me see.” Parting your lips, with his ring covered finger, mouth opening to show him that his cum was still there. Smiling as he let go, muttering out “good girl.”, mouth closing as he let you swallow, the salty taste making you wince under your breath while he pet the side of your face down to your neck. 

“You sure angel? ….You know i don't like lying.” he said, resting his hand on your cunt, fingers dipping in shallowly as you almost went limp in his hold, Knees locking just in time, so focused on keeping your composure that you didn't see him smirking at your state. His finger curling inside you, as you tried to hold back your whimper, body unconsciously rocking back and forth into his hand.

Finally snapping, trying to be on your best behavior best you couldn't help it anymore, knowing what he was doing to you. “Please,” you whined out. “Want you to fuck me like you always do, want you to fuck me so good.” No shame left in your body as you started taking action, nails clawing into his bicep, your eyes half lidded trying to hold back the tears forming.

Letting out a whine muttered by your teeth sinking into your lips when his hand pulls away, lingering there not for long as he easily hikes your leg up over his waist, aligning his cock to your dripping cunt, rubbing it over your folds, teasing you, wanting to make his sweet angel beg. 

“i-ikkei, please” you lead, gripping his arms, as pushed into you slowly. Cooing at you for being so patient with him. Head dropping onto his shoulder as a broken noise escaped your lips, legs tightening around his waist, clenching around him.

Pushing the rest of himself inside you, hissing as you swallow him up in your warmth. “Fuck sweetheart, you always… feel so, -fuck, so goddamn good,”

“Relax baby,” he groaned out, head thrown back. “Little cunt’s so tight, gonna get my will instead of my kids if you keep it up.” Your smile barely forming before it gets cut off, moaning at the painful feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“Such a... fuck, such a good little girl for me,” He praises, hot breath on your neck as you clench even tighter at his words, the feeling of bhim so deep inside of you, nudging your cervix making your head spin. “So pretty,  I'd do anything for you, you know that?”

“m’close.” you whimpered. His love confessions making you lose your mind completely, nails digging into his chest, slightly groaning at the sting.. “Please, p-please please,” you begged through a sob, tears swelling up in your eyes. Placing his lips on yours before you can gasp out begs anymore. Trying to whimper out his name before he fucks you roughly with a thrust that hits your g spot, making you cum all over him, sticky wetness enclosing the both of you as it dripped down his balls and onto the sofa. 

“There you go baby,” he muttered against your lips, but you’re too far gone to even pay attention. Working his cock inside of you, gently pushing up into your cunt as your shaking body twitches in his hold, eyes rolling to the back of your head from your orgasm, still trying to come down from your high. “You know I always got you.”

He pulls out of you slowly when you have calmed down but you weren’t done. “w-wanna make you cum.” your croaky voice pouted out.

“Hm? You already did sweetheart.” Shaky legs positioning yourself on top of him, resting your hands on his shoulders. “no...want you to cum in me.”

Watching as you spread open you cunt, placing his tip on your entrance. Looking down at him with a heavy lust in your eyes, not wasting any time sliding back into you. “You’re so greedy.” He says into your ear, a roughness to his voice. Back arching as his arm wraps around your waist, leaning back to give him a view of himself bottoming out in you. The feeling of the fullness already has you cumming again. “...So fucking perfect.” 

Rubbing your clit with his fingers as his lips attached to your nipple, locking you in his hold, your body trembling from the overstimulation. Cock repeatedly ramming into your g spot as your cunt is being lovingly abused. “Fuck” He mutters out, words getting trapped into your skin, fingers pinching your swollen clit, letting out a loud sob as tears break free. 

“Fuck baby, I’m close.” He said, breath growing sporadic as his hips start stuttering. Chasing after his high, fingers slapping your clit as you squealed.

“C-, cum in me, please. You gotta, p-please!” You cry out, pushing him over the edge. Breaking free of your tits, mouth letting out deep groans as he is spilling his load into you, coming for the third around him. Body freezing up, seeing black and stars, walls clamping around him even tighter, wanting to milk him dry for everything he's got. 

Not even realizing that he's holding you into him, balls resting on you cunt as he's still inside of you, knowing you'd throw a fit if he pulled out. Body slump and tired as he presses a light kiss on the top of your head, large hands soothing your body as they worked their way up and down your back.

“I-, I love you,” you choked out, resting your head into his shoulder. His heart softening as he kissed your lips softly, sighing as he leaned back with you in his arms. Gently humming to ease you into sleep, not caring how he was gonna take care of this later. ”I love you too, baby.” He whispered into your ear, looking around his office full of money and countless items worth millions, but none made his heart race like you could, not even close.

“...I love you, more than you'll ever know.” 

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Request for a little angsty fic with some fluff at the end? Maybe reader is BAU team member and goes undercover but it goes wrong and she gets pretty hurt while inside. Hotch has to keep his cool but is mad/upset but they eventually get her out and have fluffy ending .. details can be changed 😊

Rescue

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, angsty

MASTERLIST

----

“What’s a beautiful lady like you doing here all alone” a large hand rested on my exposed lower back as I leaned on the bar. Looking over to the owner I smirked as the man smiled down at me. So far so good

“Been having some troubles at work lately and I just need some form of relief, think you could help me out?” my fingers trailed up the man’s arm, squeezing his biceps 

“Careful y/n or you may just end up sleeping with the man” Morgan’s voice came through my coms   

His dark eyes raked over my curves that were accentuated by the form fitting dress that reached mid thigh, pulling me closer to him

“I’ve got just what you need. Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” taking my hand in his he lead me through the crowd of the pub. My eyes locked with Derek’s across the room before Slade lead me to a vacant corridor. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could I was hit over the head

-----

“Hotch I lost her” Morgan’s panicked voice came through my phone’s speakers. My stomach dropped as my entire body filled with fear

“What do you mean you lost her!” my fists balled into fists as they rested on the table. The team sat there sharing the same look, fear

“He took her out of the room and I stayed back. I found her coms in the corridor and I searched the entire place, she’s gone, I’m sorry”

“Get back to the office we don’t have much time to find her” hanging up I turned to Garcia 

“I need you to dig up everything that you could find on Slade Wright, associates, properties, family history, everything Garcia” I ordered as anger started over taking me, jaw cleanched tightly I went to my office

This can’t be happening again 

I cannot lose someone that I love to this job again

Getting to my destination I shut the door behind me and went over to my desk. Letting out a frustrated grunt I cleared everything off of it

Damn it! Why did I agree to send her in

Plopping down in my chair I ran my hands down my face and took some deep breaths to try and calm down. Hard to do that when your fiance is God knows where with our latest unsub

-----

“Wh-where am I?” groaning I blinked multipule times to adjust to the dim lighting. I went to move my arms but I couldn’t, the were bound with rope behing my back as I sat upright on the wooden chair 

“You know, you almost had me Agent Y/L/N. Too bad we never got round to that relief you wanted” Slade’s hot breath fanned against my neck as he leaned over my shoulder

“Such a shame really, I thought I had your dumb ass in the bag”  he yanked my head back forcing me to look at him

“Watch your mouth or else” 

“Or else what, you’re going to carve me up the same way you did to all those women” tightening his hold on me he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his pocket knife, blade glimmering in the light 

“Yes, but first” I held in my urge to scream from his blade being jabbed into my thigh

“Let’s have some fun” 

-----

Eight hours

That’s how long it’s been since her abduction and we’re nowhere closer to finding out where he took her. Walking out the front door of Slade’s getaway property I dialed Garcias number, she answered almost immediately  

“Garcia are you sure they’re aren’t any other locations in his name or aliasses?” furrowing my eyes I looked up at Rossi and Prentis as they came closer to me

“I checked them all sir, nothing under his parents or his name besides the houses that you’ve raided already unless-” she paused and the tapping of keys became louder 

“Unless what Garcia?” Rossi asked

“I checked everyone besides his ex-wife” 

“What do we know about her Garcia?”

“Heather Wright, she was twenty-nine when she died three months ago”

“How’d she die?”

“Suicide, she slit her wrists in her bathtub. According to the police report Slade went over to her house to drop off their six year old daughter Hailey, she didn’t answer the door and he used the spare  key and went in. He saw the water running from the bathroom and that’s when he found her”

“There’s his stresser”

“I need an address Garcia” the three of us headed to the suv 

“Already sent to your device”

-----

“You’re going to wish you didn’t do this” coughing I winced at the pain that shot through my body, blood slowly oozing out of all the places he used his knife

“Who’s going to save you baby, I don’t see your beloved husband to be anywhere and yes before you ask how I know about your fiance, I did my research on the BAU the moment you guys showed up” he came closer to me laughing, taunting me with each stride he took. Slowly tilting my head to the side I saw movement in the doorway, Aaron. He slowly walked in making no sounds or sudden movements, gun pointed at Slade

I halfheartedly laughed at his predicament and he tipped my head backward

“What’s so funny?”

“You should probably look behind you” I coughed, blood spluttering out of my mouth

“Drop the knife” Aaron ordered and Slade pressed it to my neck

“Think about your daughter, Hailey. She already lost her mom she doesn’t have to lose her father also” he slowly removed the weapon before dropping it to the floor. Rossi came over and cuffed him, taking him out of the room as Aaron shouted for medics

“Took you long enough” I chuckled lightly as he undid the ropes on my arms

“It’s not funny, I almost lost you”

The medics came in and they helped me into the gurney. Aaron held my hand as they wheeled me out to the ambulance. He brushed the hair out of my face and kissed my temple

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Aaron”

[luv-eddiediaz]

Hi. Me again, with my obsession of cowboy Eddie and city Buck. 

I was driving around the country last night looking for some cool rocks to put in my yard (I live in town, but like 20 minutes from all the ranches and wide open spaces), and I had like a Buddie version of a Hallmark movie playing in my head the whole time. 

Imagine with me:

Buck has been living in NYC. He’s been working at some art gallery and dating Abby and living with her in her fancy loft while she sculpts, but something happens and she still needs to go find herself, so off she goes to abandon our boy, who, after a couple of months, and some conversations with his friends, realizes she isn’t going to come back, and he sets off to start over. 

He basically throws a dart at a map, and it lands on El Paso, and so that’s where he packs his bags to go. He gets a job at a local bar, and rents a room in the back. He doesn’t think El Paso is going to be for him, so he’s just going to work a few weeks until he can figure out where he wants to go and has some more money saved up to get there.

He notices that every other night, a dark haired man comes in and orders a whiskey, neat and two beers. He sits alone and doesn’t talk to anyone except the girl who works at the bar with Buck at night (I’ve named her Desiree). To Buck, he seems kind of sad. 

One night, Desiree is off, and it’s Just Buck. The guy comes in and Buck brings him his whiskey without him having to order. The man tips his hat, and Buck smiles, but they don’t say anything. When he’s finished his whiskey, Buck goes back to him with his draft of Budweiser, and again he tips his hat, and Buck smiles. They don’t talk until Buck brings him last beer. 

“It’s Buck, right?”

“Uh, yea, how did you know?”

“Desiree is my cousin. She’s mentioned you a few times. Doesn’t like you very much.”

Buck laughs, “I didn’t think she did.”

“It’s your shoes. They’re too shiny, and she says you smell too nice.”

“How does someone smell too nice?”

“Girls here are just different than where you come from.”

“Everyone here is different than where I come from.”

And the man laughs so quiet Buck isn’t even sure he’s laughing, and then he holds out his hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Buck meets his hand, and it’s softer than Buck would have thought given his dirt stained jeans, and his small drawl, and the cowboy hat he never seems to take off his head. 

So, now whenever Eddie comes in, Buck waits on him, and as the customers dwindle down, Buck ends up sitting in the corner booth with him, and they talk. About New York mostly, about Abby and art, Eddie’s son, and how Buck thinks he might do better in Austin if he was going to stay in Texas. 

“If you change your mind, and want to stay,” Eddie says one night, “I have a shed I converted to a guest house. I’d be more than happy to rent it out to you.”

Buck isn’t sure why, but the thought of Eddie wanting him to stay makes him feel good, and so he decides to take him up on the offer. He meets Eddie at his place one Sunday afternoon, which is this sprawling ranch, and a large, gray stucco house. Eddie shows him around the grounds.

“So, these are Greg and Elizabeth,” he says of two goats nosing at Buck’s shoes, “those are the three Rosies,” he points to three brown cows, “the chicken coop is in the back, but you’ll have to ask Christopher their names, because honestly, I don’t know. I think he keeps changing them.”

“All these animals are yours?”

“Uh, the goats and chickens, yes. One Rosie is a boarder, and the other two are ours until I find them somewhere else to go.” 

“Do you like rescue animals?”

“Sort of. I’m a large animal vet.”

“How did you not tell me this?”

Eddie shrugs and smiles this little half smile Buck has come to adore, “I don’t like talking about myself. And you love talking about yourself.”

“Do not.”

“You really do.”

Then Eddie shows him the shed/house, and Buck decides he’s going to stay there. Eddie also asks if during the day Buck wants to help out answering phones and stuff in the clinic.

Hilarity would ensue with Buck in his fancy sweaters and nice shoes trying to help wrangle the goats and the cows. Sweetness comes when he’s out feeding the chickens with Christopher, and eating sandwiches with him at the reception desk of the vet clinic. 

At some point, he starts wearing flannel shirts, and faded denim. Eddie even buys him his own cowboy hat the day he takes him out horseback riding. 

That same day, they sit by a creek, underneath a tree while their horses graze, and have a more serious conversation. Eddie opens up about his wife’s recent death, but how they had been on the rocks for a while, and Eddie thought maybe they were going to work things out, but she said she didn’t want to and then she had an accident in town. 

Buck doesn’t think he’s crazy when Eddie puts Buck’s hat back on his head and he feels this electricity as they stare at each other, close enough to smell what the other had for breakfast on their breath. He thinks maybe Eddie is going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. And it leaves him disappointed. 

So, of course. with the two of them on this precipice of something, Abby comes back! 

She finds out where Buck is, and goes down to Texas. It’s a Saturday night, and Buck is working at the bar, and it’s a little bit busy, but Christopher is staying the weekend with his aunt and cousins, and Eddie is down there, and between serving Buck lets Eddie try and teach him to line dance, and they shoot a round of pool that lasts forever because Buck keeps having to go work, but it doesn’t matter, because he is having the best time, and he’s seeing Eddie laugh with his whole face, and he knows, he just knows he is falling in love with this man, and only hopes he’s falling in love back. 

They are literally just about to kiss in a dark corner when Buck sees Abby in the middle of the bar, and says her name. He doesn’t forget Eddie is there, but he kinds forgets Eddie is there and walks over to her, gives her a hug.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you too.”

“Can we talk?” she asks, “are you busy?”

“I’m working, but I can take a minute; here.” He leads her to a small booth and slides in across from her.

“Look,” she starts, “I’m not sorry I left, because I had to. I was feeling suffocated.”

“By me?”

“No, well, yes, but not you. Just my life, and you happened to be a part of that. I needed to get lost to find myself again.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been five months, Abby. I left us. I left New York; I started over.”

“I see that. Kind of a weird choice.”

“I like it.”

Because he likes Eddie. 

Shit. Eddie. Buck looks around the bar and sees that he’s gone, and he doesn’t blame him for bailing. He looks back at Abby; at the beautiful curve of her face, her bright green eyes that still pop through the lenses of her glasses. He remembers what it felt like to kiss her lips, and feel her hands through his hair. He never loved anyone the way he loved Abby - she was the first real thing in his life, but he knows now, that Abby never loved him the way he deserved.

“Buck?”

“Thank you for coming here to explain yourself.”

“I was kind of hoping I could talk you into coming to New York with me.”

“Nah, I’m good here. I’ve got all these flannel shirts now, and the concrete would just kill these boots.”

Abby laughs, “not to mention the cowboy.”

“What cowboy?”

“The one that’s been staring at us like he’s ready to pull my hair.”

Buck looks to where Abby is nodding and he wonders how the hell he missed Eddie sitting there.

“Yea, and the cowboy.”

She smiles and kisses Buck on the cheek as she gets up to leave. Buck waits a few seconds until she’s walked out the door and saunters over to Eddie with a woeful look on his face. He sits on the barstool next to him 

“I’m sorry about that,” he says.

“Oh, you’re sorry for dropping me like a dirty rag as soon as you saw your ex-girlfriend? Or is she still your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my ex. There’s uh, there’s someone else I’m kind of interested in.”

“Anyone I know? It’s a small town after all.”

“I think you may be familiar with him.”

“Him? That could be a dangerous thing here.”

“I like a little bit of danger.”

Eddie smiles, “what time do you get off?”

“About another hour.”

“Hmmm, I’ll come back and pick you up.”

Eddie tips his hat and leaves the bar, and Buck thinks the last hour of his shift drags on forever, but finally he’s cashed out and collected his tips and he goes outside to find Eddie sitting in his truck. Buck gets in, and they drive out past the town lights, past his ranch, almost right up to the border to Mexico, and park. 

Buck feels like he’s in a country song as the radio hums in the background and Eddie leans over the console to touch his fingertips to Buck’s chin and pull him towards himself to give him a soft, slow kiss. 

It’s the best kiss Buck has ever had, and he can’t help but smile the entire time. It’s the beginning of what Buck knows is going to be the rest of his life. 

[viking-raider]

The Immortal Sky - Epilogue

Summary: You and Henry start a life together, after so much that’s happened.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 3,048

Rating: G - Dystopian!AU, Futuristic!AU, Language, Mild Angst, Suggestive Language, Cotton Candy Goodness, Fluff and a Super Happy Ending!

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

Author’s Note: Thank you all for the support and love on this story, it was a blast to write. Thanks to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​ as always <3

It had been three months since the events had happened in Bristol, and both you and Henry had healed well and started building a life together as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Henry's family fully, completely and lovingly embraced you into their family, treating you as one of their very own; uncaring that you were born in the lower Sectors of London. They included you in everything from social parties and events to family gatherings. You were surprised, when you went to his family home for the first time, because unlike you and your family, Henry and his family were raise in an actual house in Sector Two's posh neighborhood, where nearly every member of the Royal and Cleric Council lived, with their families; his brothers and their families also lived in houses of their own, in the neighborhood.

The Cavill's had lived in this neighborhood for several generations, his father's side of the family had always been members of the Cleric Council and his mother's family had always been members of the Royal Council; but Henry was the first Cavill and Dalgliesh to not be either a Beta, Alpha or High Royal or Cleric, in nearly nine generations.

“Why don't you live here too, Henry?” You had asked, the first time Henry had taken you to his parent's house, for dinner, two weeks after getting out of the hospital. “Can you not, since you're a High Marshal?”

“Oh no, I can live here, if I'd like too, being the son of a Cleric and Royal.” Henry replied, as he pulled into his parents’ driveway. “But, I choose to live in the flat, in Central Sector Two. I didn't need a big house, since it was just Kal and I. Even with it being the three of us, there's still no need for one.” He explained, then got out of the car to move around and open your door.

Henry's family had even invited your parents and little brother to their family functions.

They had been slack jawed, while they sat in the back seat of Henry's car, you and Henry having gone to pick them up and take them to the Christmas party you all had been invited too. They watched as each Sector got brighter and brighter, until they finally got to see the sun, for the first time, as it started to sink below the horizon. Henry glanced at them through the rear-view mirror and smiled, remembering the same look of surprise and awe on your face as you saw the same view for the first time, over a year before. He looked at you and smiled even brighter as you looked at him, having looked back at them and saw their reactions to it as well.

Their awestruck continued as you entered the Cavill family's posh neighborhood, seeing all the fancy and large three-story houses, the lush green grass of the front lawns and the expensive cars in their driveways. Parking, you all got out of the car and headed inside, greeted by Henry's parents in the foyer.

“Merry Christmas.” Marianne smiled, hugging you and Henry. “Welcome and Merry Christmas.” She said to your parents and little brother, as you and Henry greeted his father.

“Thank you and Merry Christmas, My Lady.” Your mother replied and smiled back, nervously bowing her head to Marianne.

“Please, call me Marianne.” She replied, smiling sweetly. “This is my husband, Colin.” She said, introducing him.

“Pleasure.” Colin greeted them, smiling warmly.

“I'm Tasha. This is my husband, Tristan.” Your mother answered, motioning to your father. “And this is our youngest son, Christophe.” She said, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Your house is ginormous!” Christophe replied, his mouth hanging open.

Marianne and Colin chuckled, warmed. “Please, come in and make yourselves at home.” She said, motioning into the living room, where most of the group was congregating. “The other kids are playing in the backyard, if you want to join them, Christophe.” She offered your brother, then showed him the way out to the backyard.

“You want something to drink?” Henry asked you as you moved into the living room with everyone else.

“Yes, that would be fantastic.” You nodded, smiling up at him.

“All right.” Henry smiled back, kissing you softly, before going into the kitchen.

“Is it time yet?” Simon asked, coming into the kitchen with his little brother, to also grab himself and his wife something to drink.

“Soon.” Henry replied, pouring you a glass of chilled white wine. “I need the perfect moment.” He said, pouring himself a glass, then handed the bottle to Simon.

“Just don't chicken out.” Simon teased him, grinning.

“Chicken out of what?” Marianne asked, coming into the kitchen.

“The right moment.” Henry replied, feeling his face burn, and took a deep gulp of the chilled wine, trying to cool his face off and fortify his nerves.

“You'll find it, Henry.” She told him, rubbing his broad back, trying to be encouraging and supportive of her son. “Don't rush it.”

“I won't.” Henry sighed, picking up the two wine glasses. “I want it to be perfect.”

Henry took the glasses into the living room, finding you sitting on the couch and took a seat beside you, holding out one of the glasses. You smiled at him, taking the glass and kissed him on the cheek, before taking a sip of it. Henry wrapped an arm around you, sipped his wine and got caught up in the flow of the conversation that was going on with everybody.

“They're all so nice.” Your mother said as the two of you went into the kitchen for more wine.

“They really are.” You replied, smiling as you heard Henry's laugh carry into the kitchen. “They're incredibly loving and supportive, especially towards Henry and I.” You told her, then sighed.

Henry's mother had been right, people did find out about you being a Slummer, and it had happened sooner than both of you had thought it would.

A month after returning to London from Bristol, you and Henry were at a Cleric Fundraiser, which was held every year to raise money to donate to one of the lower Sectors, so they could use it as they saw fit; usually to help buy supplies for the Sector's Hospital. When a woman approached you, while Henry went to find the Fundraiser Manager, so he could donate money to the event.

“So, your High Marshal Cavill's new girl.” She said, lifting a sculpted brow at you.

“I am.” You replied, frowning at her, in her glittering and almost skin tight dress. “Who are you?”

“I'm Natasha, Beta Cleric Shaw's wife.” She told you, still giving you a mean and judgmental expression. “Henry and I dated, a while back.” She added, tossing her straight black hair over her shoulder with a swish of her head. “We were serious, for a moment, before I left him.” She said, an evil smugness glinting in her gray eyes.

“I never thought Henry would stoop so low, as to date a Slummer.” She said, her upper lip curling with distaste.

“H-how do you know that?” You asked, gulping and feeling your hands tremble.

“My husband was on the Council panel, when you testified against Oron Anderson.” Natasha replied, resting a hand on her hip. “He told me all about you being from Sector Twenty-Eight and how long you spent in that trafficker's warehouse in Thirty-One; before Henry bought you.”

“How's it feel to be his bought and paid for play thing?” She asked, looking you over.

“I'm not.” You replied, your voice barely audible.

“You can think that and Henry can tell you that, but we-” She motioned around the room, the gold and diamond bangles rattling on her thin wrist. “All know the truth.” She told you, tipping her nose up at you, then walked away.

Your breath hitched in your throat as hot tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, before turning your back to her and rushed out of the room. Henry had been halfway back, just missing Natasha walking away from you, when he saw the look of anguish on your face and rush out of the room. Scanning the room, trying to see what had caused it, Henry rushed after you. You took your heels off as you got out the front doors of the venue and ran into the manicured garden to the side of it. Henry finally caught up with you, finding you gulping down deep mouthfuls of cold night air by a massive fountain.

“Hey.” He whispered, resting his hand on your goosebump and chilled skin. “What's wrong?” He asked, shrugging out of his blazer and draping it over your shaking shoulders, before hugging you against his chest, your tears spilling over onto his dark gray dress shirt.

“What happened? Tell me.”

“They know.” You sobbed, clinging onto him and getting makeup all over his shirt.

“Who knows what, babe?” He asked, cupping your head in his hands and pulled your face away from his chest.

“They know what I am.” You cried, your bottom lip puffy and trembling.

Henry blinked at you for a moment, before his brain connected to what you meant and his eyes widened.

“Yeah.” You gasped and sighed. “They know I'm just a fucking sl-”

“Don't.” He snapped, shaking his head at you.

“I am, Henry.” You hissed back at him, becoming angry. “I'm a Slummer and they know it.” You huffed, trying to pull away from him.

Henry bit his lip, biting back his own frustrated anger. “Who told you this?” He demanded, keeping a hold on you.

“Your ex.”

Henry's shoulders slumped and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Natasha.” He growled between clenched teeth.

“Yes, her.” You nodded, folding your arms inside his blazer. “Told me how the two of you dated, before she left you, and that everyone knew that I was a Slummer, because her husband told her about me testifying at Twist's trial.”

“How the hell does she know you testified at Twist's trial.” Henry frowned, taken aback.

“Her husband is, apparently, Beta Cleric Shaw.”

“So, she did end up with a Cleric after all.” Henry sighed, shaking his head.

“What?” You snapped at him.

“The reason Natasha broke up with me, was because I wouldn't leave the Marshal Council to become either a Cleric or a Royal. She wanted that posh and expensive life that they have. But, I wouldn't do it, I love being a High Marshal. So, she left me, and apparently got what she wanted in the end.” He sighed, rubbing his face.

“But, I don't care about that. What I care about is her trying to hurt you.”

“She did a damn good job.” You whispered, staring down at your bare toes. “Called me, your bought and paid for plaything.”

“Look at me.” He whispered, touching his fingertips underneath your chin and lifted your head, until your wet eyes met his. “You're not my 'bought and paid for' plaything. We both know that, sweetheart. She's just a salty and unhappy woman, that only gets her happiness out of watching others suffer, and other people might know about you being from the lower Sectors, but she's only one crazy enough to say anything about it to your, my, or any of my family's face or within earshot of us either.” He told you, gently swiping his thumbs beneath your eyes, wiping away your tears.

“As for her husband speaking about the trial, when he's not allowed to speak to anyone about it outside of the Councils, and she's nowhere near a position on them, he's going to be in a load of trouble, when I bring it up to my mum.”

“I don't want him to get into trouble because his wife is apparently a bitch.” You told him, grasping his wrists.

“I know you don't, love.” Henry smiled at you. “But, if he's talking to his wife about them, then he's more than likely talking to others he's not supposed to, and that's a breach and violation of his position. The Councils have to be told about it.” He explained to you.

“What, will you not tell me things, if I were your wife?” You asked him, trying to tease him.

“I'm a High Marshal, my job is less top secret and involved than a Cleric or Royal.” Henry replied, chuckling. “I don't know how interested you'd be in me talking about homicide cases, they tend to be a bit graphic.”

“I wouldn't mind. Especially, if you needed to get something off your chest, if one is really bothering you.” You confessed, biting your lip as you looked up at him, recalling all the nightmares you had soothed him through.

“I'll keep that in mind.” Henry smiled, kissing you. “You want to go back in?” He asked you, looking back at the building. “Or we could ditch it, go back home and have a movie night.”

You pressed your lips together, thinking about it. Part of you wanted to go back in and face Natasha's no doubt judgmental glares the rest of the night, showing her that you weren't going to be intimidated by her and what she thought, but if you were honest, now that you were calm, you didn't actually care what she thought.

“I like the idea of movie night.” You said, looking back up at Henry.

“So do I.” Henry agreed. “I'm dying for a pair of sweats.”

“You are?” You laughed, looking at yourself in the tight gown and your bare, but screaming, feet.

“I wouldn't mind helping you out of that.” Henry chuckled, grinning and winking at you.

You grinned up at him and had a feeling that the impromptu movie night wouldn't last long, if the expression on Henry's face was anything to go off of.

“What is it, honey?” Your mother asked, seeing that far off look in your eyes.

“Nothing.” You laughed, shaking it off.

The back door came flying open and several of the kids came running in from outside, yelling and screaming as they went to their respective parents.

“Christophe, what's the matter?” Your mother asked him, frowning.

“Come look! Come look!” He said, grabbing his mother's hand and dragging her out the back door.

You frowned after them and looked to Henry as he and everyone from the living room filed through the kitchen and out the back door. “What's going on, Babe?” You asked him, as he took your hand and guided you outside with them.

“It's snowing, Nugget.” He grinned at you, excited for you to see it.

You let Henry lead you outside, gasping as you stepped out onto the back deck and into the heavy flurry of thick white flakes. Henry smiled, moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you back against him, kissing the back of your hair and resting his chin on top of your head, gently swaying as you both watched the snow fly. You were memorized by it, even with how cold it was, tilting your head back and smiling up at Henry, who smiled back at you, kissing your forehead.

“I'll be right back, I have to grab something.” He said, letting go of you and going back inside.

“This is amazing.” Christophe said, and stuck his tongue out like Henry's nieces and nephews, catching the flakes on it.

You smirked at him, tilting your own head back a bit and did the same, giggling as the snowflakes melted on your tongue and oblivious of Henry coming up behind you.

“Babe?” He called out, getting your attention.

You turned around to face him, but had to drop your eyes down slightly, as he knelt before you in the gathering snow on the wood deck. “Henry?” You answered, blinked down at his, confused.

“Oh god.” You heard someone gasp.

“I know,” Henry started, looking incredibly worried and nervous. “we've been through a whole lot since we met, a year and a half a go, but for all that, I wouldn't have wanted to endure any of that, without you.” He explained, fidgeting and fumbling for something in his back pocket. “I love you. I want to be with you and spend the rest of my life with you, only you.”

“So, I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.” You grinned, feeling how warm your cheeks were getting and the flurry of butterflies flying around your stomach, like the snowflakes in the air around you.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, in a rush, his nerves getting the better of him, as he opened the box and revealed a beautiful diamond ring.

A huge smile pulled across your face and giggled nervously, you were speechless for a minute, completely stunned and surprised by Henry proposing to you, then finally managed to answer.

“Yes.” You nodded, giddy. “Yes!” You laughed.

“Oh thank god.” Henry laughed back, relieved, then slipped the ring onto your finger, standing up and wrapping his arms around you, kissing you deeply.

Everyone clapped and cheered, happy for the both of you.

Five months later, you and Henry walked down the aisle and married, in a private ceremony, attended only by friends and family, the people that mattered to the both of you, and it was two years after that, that you two of you moved into a house in his family's neighborhood and welcomed your first child, a boy, that you both mutually agreed on, and named, Michail. If it wasn't for your brother, in so many ways, neither you or Henry would have met and fallen in love.

Your life was perfect now and even though you had lost your brother, neither you or Henry would change it for anything.

-- END --

[write-orflight]

Trouble: Chapter 2

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue  Chapter 1

Rating: M

Words: 3K

Warnings: Basic witch stuff, angst, mentions of child birth, mentions of near death

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N: Tarot, wicca, and crystal information is very secondhand if you see any inaccuracies, no you don’t. If you are a witch tho and want to help and be nice to me enter my ask box please, I’m annoying my friend too much.

Chapter 2: God, don't let me lose my mind

The deeper into autumn you got the more busy the shop was. 

Halloween was a big money grabber for your shop. People loved to come to the shop around that time because your shop offered such ‘spooky’ feel, as the hipster who came in that morning would say. You hated that. Halloween was one of your favorite holidays simply because the veil between the natural and supernatural was so thin it was the best time for spells and charms but what you didn’t like was people and baby witches asking you about certain spells or how to commune with spirits just so they can do something “extra spooky” for whatever parties they were having for the season. Consultations were such easy money though so you’d never turn them away but your answer was always the same, that Spirits are not toys and that if they are going to invite them it better be serious and for the right intentions otherwise they might not leave. 

Despite it being your favorite season, It didn’t make you less annoyed. 

“If I have to make another Pumpkin flavored whatever and tell a sorority girl not to invoke a demon in her house, I’m going to scream.” Silena says to you as you enter the shop, Artemis in tow. Your sitter had to take an exam so you had to watch her for the first 2 hours of your shift. Artie, knowing the drill by now, tries to crawl up to the bar stool. You watch her for a second, smiling her little legs before taking pity on her and hoisting her up. She immediately pulls a coloring book and crayons out her bag, before working diligently in silence. You kiss her temple before walking behind the counter, tying your apron on. 

“You had another consultation today?” You asked.  

“Pfft, it wasn’t even that. She asked me while ordering her coffee, though I should’ve charged her for that dumbass question.” You look at her pointed, nodding your head towards your child who repeats everything. Silly winces “Sorry, but still. If this is how halloween is going to be, you’re probably going to have to do some balancing spells.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Exactly what I need, more work.” 

“What’s a dumbass?” Artie pipes up from her perch on the stool. 

“Something you are not and shouldn’t repeat unless you want your mom mad at me.” Silly says, reaching across the counter to ruffle her hair. 

The doorbell of the shop rings and the very man who’s occupied your mind these past couple of months steps in. Aaron Hotchner was one of your favorite customers despite not talking very much, he’d make small talk while you made his order which you found yourself doing slower than it would normally take you, just to get a little bit more of his time, he’d leave a tip in the jar and be on his way always leaving you with a small smile that you always immediately returned with a wide one. You tried to stop yourself from getting attached but here you were, an adult woman who had a crush on a customer who probably didn’t think about you when he left the shop. 

You’d never seen him on a weekend though and frankly you didn’t know if you could handle seeing him like this again, he wore dark blue jeans, a black belt and a black t-shirt that fit a little too well over his broad chest you couldn’t help but staring at his arms that you’d never seen on display like this. You knew for a fact(well you hoped at least) he’d have no issue picking you up or pinning you down. 

Now’s not the time, y/n… you think. 

“Hey, you.” You greet, flirtatiously. You’ve been trying not to flirt with him, you really were but sometimes you couldn’t help it. It was your personality. “Didn’t think I’d see you in here. On a weekend, no less.” 

“Yea, decided to stop for coffee before heading to my sister in law’s. Can I have my usual and an Americano for her?” He asks 

“You got it.” You wink before starting to work. Silly gives you a knowing look which you brush off. Hotch takes a seat at the bar a few seats away from your daughter who looks up at him. 

“Hi!” She says excitedly. “I’m Artie.” 

“Hi Artie, I’m Aaron.” He looks around. “Are your parents around?” You look up. You’d forgotten to mention you had a kid to Hotch, which would probably explain his confusion of a random child sitting alone. 

“My mama’s right there, silly.” She laughs. “Mama?” She says you look up automatically from the milk you’re frothing. 

“Yes, bean?” You say. 

“Can I have a brownie?”  

“Well, I don’t know. Did you finish the addition tables I asked you to do?” She shakes her head at you. “Well, how about you do that then we’ll see if it’s brownie time, deal?” She nods, fast while pulling her math homework out of her bag. Hotch watches the interaction confused but with a slight smile. 

“I didn’t know you had a kid.” He says 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Gus.” You say, calling him by the nickname you affectionately gave him your first meeting. “But yes I do, that’s Artemis.” 

He nods, knowingly. “How old?” 

“Well, I don’t know. How old are you, bean?” You say. 

“I’m six!” She says, holding up 5 fingers, you grab her other hand to extend her other index finger too so the number was actually 6. 

“Really? You’re not 16 yet?” Silly asks, ruffling her hair. “I thought you were driving us home tonight?” 

Artie shakes her head. “Mama says I can’t drive yet.” 

“Between you and me kid, your mama shouldn’t be on the road either.” You swat at her. 

Aaron gives a small chuckle at the display in front of him. But he has to ask the burning question in his head. “Her dad—“ 

“Not in the picture.” You cut off. “Like not even in the same gallery.” 

Hotch nods understandably as you put his drinks in the carrier for him. He looks at you confused when you add a 3rd cup. 

“Hot chocolate.” You say. “For your son. I imagine that’s where you’re going. To pick him up from your sister?”  

“How did you know I had a son?” He asks. 

“Oh, I just used one of my witchy spells to find out information on you.” You say jokingly, but he looks at you with mild horror. “I’m kidding, Spencer told me.” 

He nods. “Thank you, y/n.” 

“No problem, come back to see me?” 

“Always.” He says, offering you a small secret smile before leaving. You can’t help the dreamy look you give his retreating back. 

“Are you coming back to earth anytime soon?” Sil says, shaking her head. “You got it bad, kid.” 

“Pfft, no I don’t.” You say turning to clean up the mess you just made. 

“I don’t understand why you just won’t ask him out.” 

“He’s healing, Sil.” You say, shrugging. “And I don’t want to push him into something he’s obviously not ready for.” 

Not to mention you also didn’t think you were ready for it. 

———————————————

On Halloween day, you get a visit from one of your favorite customers 

“Pennywise!” You say to chipper blonde women who strolled in she was wearing a orange and black dress with little jack-O-lantern earrings that you had gotten her the beginning of month. You move your hair back to show her the Ouija board pointer earrings she had gotten you in return. Penelope Garcia couldn’t just accept a gift without giving one in return. 

“Hey Y/N, how are you this ole hallow’s eve?”

“It’s Halloween and a full moon tonight.” You say excitedly. “It’s like witch Christmas.” 

“I don’t know about that but I am happy for you. Can I have a pumpkin spice latte and since I’m such a good friend an Americano with extra sugar for the good doctor?” She asks. 

“You got it, Pen.” You say before starting her order. “Heading into work now?” 

“Sure am! Hopefully there’s not a gruesome murder so I’ll be able to spend my Halloween having fun.” Penelope says. “You got any plans?” 

“Other than taking Artie Trick or Treating and charging some crystals in the full moon, no.” 

“Come on, no wild parties? no hexing beautiful men into falling in love with you?” Penny asks. You laugh loudly, shaking your head. “Man, maybe the life of a witch was more exciting in my head.” 

“Yea, you did.” You laugh. “I’m basically just a cool rock collector plus love spells, so not my thing.” 

“So there’s such a thing?” 

“Yea there’s love spells. I don’t believe in using them. I think love itself is it’s own powerful being. It shouldn’t be manipulated with, if someone was meant to love me they would.” 

“Speaking of love and love spells…” Silena pipes up from the display case she was loading pastries she just made into. “Penelope, how’s your boss?” You glare over at her. 

“Hotch?” Penny asks looking between the two of you before smirking at you. “Why do you want to know?” 

“I don’t.” You say at the same time as Silena says. “She has a Texas sized crush on him.” 

Garcia practically squeals at that. “Let me set you up please.” 

“No, Penny.” You say, immediately 

“Why not?” Her and Silly say at the same time. 

“Because… I don’t know didn’t his wife just die months ago, it’s hardly appropriate for me to try swoop in.” 

“Ex-wife. They were already long divorced before she died.” Penelope adds 

“Still! It’s not appropriate.” You say. 

“So what? You’re just going to keep making him free coffee until he realizes you're into him?” 

“Yup” you say adding the 3rd cup to Garcia’s carrier. “Give that to Grumpy for me please.” Garcia opens her mouth to say something but you just hold up your hand cutting her off 

“Fine.” She says, grabbing the carrier. “Only because I have to go to work though, this conversation isn’t over.”  

“Yes it is.” You call after her. 

——————————————

You were back in the shop. Artie was tuckered out after a long night of trick or treating and crashing from her sugar high so you decided to charge some of your crystals and do some balancing spells, knowing for a fact a lot of teenagers did stupid shit to upset the balance. 

As you were lighting the candles and incense, you heard a knock at the door. You were long closed so who could possibly need something right now? You look out the window and Aaron is standing there. You’re confused but you let him in anyway. 

“Hey Grumpy, what’re you doing here?” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were closed, I guess I’ve never been here at night. I’ll go. I'm sorry for bothering you.” He says turns to go but you grab his arm to stop him. 

“Gus… it’s almost midnight, no business is open. You’re here because there’s obviously something upsetting you so I’m not just going to let you leave.” You all but push him into barstool. “Now like I said it’s almost midnight so there is something important I need to do so if you’ll sit tight for like 2 minutes, I’ll make us coffee.” 

Hotch obliges, sitting silently watching you as you lit some candles on the altar you kept in the shop. You placed the honey cake you had made earlier in the day on the altar before whispering. 

“Thank you to the patron, Artemis, Great goddess of Moon and Magic. Mistress of deer and owl. Be thou my guide and Inspiration. Teach me Thy mysteries and lead me in thy ways.” You stand and turn back to Hotch who is watching you intensely. “Sorry about that, midnight is her favorite time. Coffee?” You ask, He nods as you move behind the counter. 

“Can I ask what it is you just did?” Hotch ask. 

“That?” He nods. “It’s a full moon so since Artemis is my patron goddess, it’s best to leave a sacrifice to stay in her favor.” You shrug. He looks at you like you're crazy but you're used to that look. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s no different then some catholic practices. In fact, Christians often stole from pagan practices, and only one is just considered ‘taboo’ now.” 

“Is that why you named your child Artemis, because she’s your Patron?” He asks. 

“Actually, Artemis is my Patron because of Artie.” You say, he looks at you as if asking you to continue. “I wasn’t always like this.” You say gesturing to yourself and the shop. “My parents are pastors and for a long time I was this faith devout christian girl. But I got pregnant out of wedlock, my parents disowned me and I was looking for something to turn to. I met Silena and she introduced me to Wicca, and said whoever my Patron was through meditation and study, They’ll reveal themselves to me. So I went months, meditating daily, and still nothing was working. Then I went into labor, and everything was going wrong. I thought, this was my punishment from god for not only getting pregnant without marriage but turning to witchcraft. I had to have an emergency C-section. And when I was on the operating table, I almost died, Artie almost died. I started to see these images of deer and boar running through the forest. And finally when I came back to, and I could hear my baby crying, the first thing I saw when my eyes opened was the full moon out the window.” You sigh, sliding a cup to Hotch before moving from behind the counter to take a seat next to him. “That’s when I realized the goddess had saved me and my child. And while Artemis prefers virgin patronage, and that ship had long sailed past back then. I figured naming my child after her was the next best thing.”  

“That’s a beautiful story, Y/N.” He says, looking at you sincerely.   

“Thank you, and since you’re not running for the hills, why don’t you tell me why you really knocked at my door at midnight.” 

“It’s just…” He starts, clearing his throat. “Tonight was the first ‘major’ holiday without Haley. And I tried to take Jack’s mind off it, make it fun but it was like this looming weight above us. That it wasn’t the same without her and that it never would be. And I was upset and just wanted to take a walk but I guess my feet carried me here.” He shrugged. 

“Well I’m glad you’re here grumpy. And you’re healing you need to give yourself time--” 

“I don’t have time!” He snaps. You flinch back a bit, having never heard his raised voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just-I don’t have time to heal. I have to be there for Jack.”

“Who’s there for you, Aaron?” You ask. He looks at you confused. You hardly ever call him by his name. It's either grumpy or gus or a combination of the two. Never by his actual name, he hated how much he liked how it sounded coming from your lips. “Do you know what a rock tumbler is?” you ask, he shakes his head confused where you’re going with this. You run behind the counter to retrieve the box you had dug through the very first night you met.

“Well a rock tumbler is a device you put rocks into. Rocks that have eroded, rocks that have trekked the earth, rocks that have been to hell and back. And what you do is you put them in this device with a little bit of water and you wait. Days, weeks, months all the while this device is just spinning, you don’t see what’s happening on the inside but after a while, when the time is right, you get these beautiful lustrous stones.” You say, showing him the box. “Healing is the same way, others don’t see you working. But in the end, they’ll see the result. And you’ll feel the result too. But if you don’t take that step you don’t end up with gems like these. You just end up with an eroded dingy rock.” You look up at Hotch and he’s tearing up slightly. Your heart melts. “Do you want a hug?” you say. 

“You don’t have to--” 

You cut him off. “No one on earth gives hugs because they have to. I want to give you a hug if you want one. So do you want a hug?” 

He nods, fastly. So you stand, he follows suit and allows you to pull him down into a full embrace. Your arms around his neck and shoulders, he envelopes you fully into his torso, arms tight around your waist. You sigh, content. Before shaking yourself out of it. This wasn’t about you. No matter how right it felt. 

After a minute or so you break apart. You look him in the eyes and he’s staring back at you in what feels like admiration. You clear your throat. “Can I give you something?” you ask.

“Is it another crystal?” He asked back. 

“Yes, it is.” You rummage through the box before pulling out the one you needed. “This is Aragonite, it’s good for healing old wounds and building emotional strength. Now I can gift you this but you have to activate it yourself. Even if you don’t believe it, I feel like it’s good words to hear yourself say anyway.” You grab his left hand, sliding the crystal into it. He looks into your eyes. “Now say, I release past wounds and embrace resilience.” 

Hotch sighs. “I release past wounds and embrace resilience.” He then slides the stone in his pocket. Before grabbing your hand again. “Thank you, Y/N” 

“Anytime, Grumpy.” You say.  

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses​ @tittymuncher69​ @liaabsurd​ @ladyravenclaw​ @genevievedarcygrangerreading​ @softbibxtch​ @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx​

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide stood underneath the water, her arms crossed over her chest. She stared at the black tiles of the shower wall, wondering how she would even be able to find someone to marry. 

The only viable suitors that would yield any sort of political power had to at least be lords, this she knew. Elide suppressed a shudder as she thought about the lords of Perranth. They were all decades older than her and, as demonstrated when she had to dance with them at her birthday, thought very little about personal boundaries. 

Most of them had spent the time staring at her tits and they weren’t subtle about it either. She panicked, thinking about what would happen if they insisted on her performing her ‘wifely duties’. 

She had voiced this concern with Aelin and Lysandra, her hands shaking when she told them. They had both assured her that there were other options for suitors and none of the bachelors she had danced with on her birthday met the requirements to be her husband. 

Elide turned around and tipped her head back under the shower, washing the shampoo out before lathering her long hair with conditioner. 

She stayed in the shower until the water became cold and wrapped her thick, fleece housecoat around her. The mirror was fogged. Elide sighed, rubbing her eyes, and used her sleeve to wipe a small circle in the middle. 

She frowned at the pallorness of her face, her hair clinging to her scalp like a soaked dog. With a sigh, Elide opened the cabinet and pulled out her haircare, plugging in her hair dryer. She combed through her leave-in conditioner and hair oil, making sure each strand was properly moisturized. 

Then, she sectioned her hair and blow-dried each part. She used her round brush so later, she wouldn’t have to spend so much time straightening it. Someone knocked on the door, a deep voice accompanying it, “El, can I come in?” 

“Yes, the door’s open,” she called back, knowing it was Rowan. He slipped in on near silent feet, the door clicking shut behind him. Elide swilleved on her vanity stool when he stayed at the door, a perfectly manicured brow arched. “What did you do?” 

“Why is that your first question?” 

She shrugged, drying the last section before she clicked the power button and put the tool to the side, letting it cool before she put it away. “You’re being weird. And you look guilty.” 

Rowan sighed, running his hand over his hair, sure to mess it up, “I know her nephew. We’re, uh… friends.” 

Elide blinked, “Friends as in you were classmates and grew apart or friends as in…” 

“Friends as in best friends and he’s my ex?” Rowan said, his voice higher than normal. “We grew up together and had a summer fling that turned into… not a fling and… yeah.” 

Elide frowned, “You grew up in Doranelle. How does someone from Doranelle have any claim over Perranth?” 

Rowan shoved off the door and sat down on the counter, kicking his toe into the floor, “His parents were divorced and shared custody. He spent half the year here and half in Doranelle, until his dad died.” 

Elide felt a pang of empathy for the man. The hurt of losing a parent was something that stayed with one for a while. “So… what’s he like?” 

Rowan let loose a dry chuckle, “He’s, uh, he’s something. Doesn’t talk much. Surprising sense of humour, he’s got a bit of a temper. Very blunt man, doesn’t take being lied to well.” A gentle, friendly sort of fondness washed over Rowan’s face. “I think you two would get along very well under different circumstances.”

Elide hummed, “So he’s a cranky old bastard like you, huh?” 

Rowan’s indignant scowl was answer enough. 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Against the polished floors, Elide’s heels clicked sharply as she walked down to the main foyer, where they were to greet Maeve and her nephew. 

She arrived after Aelin, Rowan, and Lysandra, who were all trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “So, is this appropriate to meet him?” she asked, turning around slowly for approval of her sleeveless, powder blue sheath dress. Elide propped her hands on her hips to pose, her hair shifting silkily over her shoulders. 

“You look wonderful,” Lysandra said, listening to something in her earpiece. “They’re here.” 

Elide curled her hands into fists, trying to quell her nerves. She tossed her glossy locks over her shoulder and flashed a dazzling smile, “Well, then. It’s time.” She sat down in an armchair, crossing her right ankle behind the left. 

Aelin sat in the chair next to hers, reaching over to squeeze Elide’s hand. “It’ll be ok.” 

“I know,” Elide said, her heart rate speeding up as Rowan walked across the hall to greet them. 

He was tall, she could tell that much, but Rowan’s build hid him from her view as they clasped hands and spoke quietly. Maeve walked in after her nephew, and Elide stood, dusting off her skirt. 

Aelin stood as well, wearing a professional smile as she took Maeve’s hands and kissed her cheeks, “Maeve, it’s nice to see you again.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty.” Maeve turned to Elide, bowing her head the slightest bit. “Lady Lochan, you look lovely.” 

Elide smiled tightly, shaking Maeve’s hand, “As do you, Ms. Nathair.” As much as she loathed the woman, Elide couldn’t deny she had impeccable taste and she wore the clothes beautifully. 

Maeve nodded primly, half-turning to beckon her nephew to her, “I’d like to introduce my nephew, Lorcan Salvaterre.” 

He stepped up and Elide felt her jaw drop. He held her gaze as he bowed to Aelin, “Your Majesty.”

Aelin recovered from her shock faster than Elide, “Hello, Lorcan.” Elide didn’t hear what else her cousin said. She felt her cheeks burn, a combination of anger and embarrassment. 

She- 

He danced with her, saved her from Lord Bigge. And she had slapped him. Her vision went red as his lips twitched with a small smirk and she regretted ever wishing for the feeling of them on hers. 

Lorcan bowed to her as well, “Sweetheart.”

Without thinking, Elide raised her hand and slapped him hard, across the face. A sick sense of satisfaction raced through her when his head snapped to the side and a bright red handprint was left on his cheek. She turned on her toes, quickly walking towards the kitchens. That fucking asshole. 

Shocked cries left everyone’s mouths. As she turned the corner, Elide glanced back, seeing him wave Rowan off. He worked his jaw, chuckling quietly. Lorcan’s dark gaze flicked to hers, “She always does that.” 

Elide thought she deserved an award for restraining herself and not flipping him off. She fled to the kitchens, slinking around the staff. There was a tray of cookies and she snatched one up, quickly regretting it as she learned just how fresh they were. 

She carried it quickly to the back table and dropped it, blowing on her fingertips. Elide slumped into a seat, not bothering with correct posture as she broke off pieces of the cookie and ate them. 

She glared at the opposite wall of the nook, hoping the palace would catch on fire and Lorcan would be crushed beneath a burning beam. 

Elide savoured her cookie. It wouldn’t be long until someone came to find her. She was embarrassed. He had known who she was the entire time and- and what? Danced to play with her, to toy with her emotions? 

One of the kitchen staff slid a plate her way, piled high with cookies. Elide smiled, her foul mood lifting the slightest. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, miss,” the young boy said, quickly returning to his task. 

Not long after, Aelin burst in, her eyes wide, “Elide! What the fuck was that?”

Elide sulked, muttering, “I’ve met him before.” 

Aelin slid onto the bench across from her, “When?” 

“At the ball,” she whispered, her throat growing tight. “He’s the guy I…” Elide felt so stupid. It must’ve been some joke to him and his aunt. 

“Ah,” Aelin said. “Your mystery man.” 

Elide nodded glumly, crossing her arms petulantly. “Yes.” 

Aelin was silent for a few moments, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration. “As the queen, I can’t condone you physically harming your royal opponent.” 

“But?” 

Aelin grinned wickedly, a feisty gleam in her eyes, “As your cousin, I say beautifully done.” Uncertainty flashed across her face, “What did he mean by ‘she always does that’?” 

Her cheeks flushed and Elide looked down at her lap, “Um, I might’ve accidentally hit him when I was ranting to Lyss?” She nervously glanced up at Aelin. “Please don’t make me apologise.” 

“Never,” Aelin said, “but we do need to return. Maeve has gone mad.” She stood up, her honey-gold ponytail swishing gently. Elide reluctantly stood up and looped her arm through Aelin’s, leaning her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “Personally, I would’ve gone for a kick in the balls, but a slap works just as well.” 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Bright, pealing laughter echoed throughout the hall and Lorcan tensed. Rowan shot him a warning look, telling him to keep his shit together and not antagonise Elide any further. 

His aunt was muttering something about Elide’s impropriety and how she would be having a talk with Vernon for accosting her nephew like this. Lorcan decided it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to tell his aunt Elide slapping him was the highlight of the trip so far. 

He hadn’t meant to dance with her on her birthday, but she had looked like she needed help. Lorcan hadn’t missed the way that sweating lordling had pawed at her. And he hadn’t meant for it to feel like… that. 

He hadn’t meant a lot of things. 

Aelin and Elide appeared, the former shooting him a halfway apologetic smile. He could see right through it, knowing Aelin was bursting with pride for Elide. 

When his eyes slid to Elide, she turned her head, but her cheeks pinked when he continued to stare at her. She finally snapped and sent him a glare that could freeze Hellas’ fiery realm. Anger acted a veneer to shield the humiliation shining in her eyes, but Lorcan read it easily, a slight note of shame tightening his chest. 

He really was a bastard. 

“Please excuse us for the mishap,” Aelin said, patting Elide’s hand. Lorcan stifled the urge to roll his eyes, the look on Elide’s face confirming it was anything but a mishap. “Lorcan, we’d like to invite you to stay with us at the palace.” 

Elide’s eyes widened and she stiffened, shooting him another dirty look. Just because he could, just for that rush he got when she paid him any attention, Lorcan winked at her, “I’d love to, your Majesty.” 

Aelin smiled innocently, “Wonderful. We’ll send our staff to help you with your bags.” 

 +*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide stewed silently in the foyer as Aelin and Rowan saw their guests out. The minute the door closed, Elide cried, “Why would you do that?” 

Aelin placated her, “Ellie-Boo, it’s to our advantage. We could never keep tabs on him if he was staying over in Maeve’s manor. This way, we can figure out their plan and stop it.” 

Feeling like she had gotten worked up over nothing, Elide mumbled something rude, “Fine. I guess that makes sense.” 

The queen scoffed, “Of course it does. I make the best plans.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: aha ! he’s here and wasn’t it fun ?

@mythicaitt​​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @empire-of-wildfire​​ @ladyverena​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​  @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​​ @maastrash​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @cursebreaker29​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @b00kworm​​ @hizqueen4life​​ @silversprings98​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​ @minaidss​​ @superspiritfestival​​ @sanakapoor​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​​ @januarystears​​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ comment to be added/removed from the tag list !

[absurdthirst]

If you're cool with this, could I please request some Agent Whiskey? And he likes another Statesman agent, but wants to be a gentleman, but he goes too far and makes her think he's not into her, so she starts to date someone like Tequila or she tries to transfer to a different branch, and Whiskey has to get his act together.

***Awwww poor misguided Whiskey.

Make A Move

Whiskey strode into the meeting room, nodding at Champ as he selected a bottle of one of their newest batches of whiskey to sample.

“Champ.” He sat down and took the glass the older man pushed towards him.

The leader of Statesmen sat down heavily and took a large gulp of his glass before turning to the senior field agent. “Jack, Y/N has requested a transfer.”

Jack felt like it had been punched in the gut. He knew that Champ was watching him carefully, knowing how Jack felt about the younger agent. He’d been besotted with her ever since she had joined.

****

Jack stopped suddenly in the room as the newly minted agents stood nervously. He was drawn immediately to the gorgeous woman that stood among them. Her eyes sparkled with excited determination.

He had been conflicted as he met her. His skin tingled when he shook her hand, the sensations making him shiver as he greeted her. He knew that she was different and that he couldn’t use his normal methods on her. He always trusted what his gut and it told him that he needed to be a gentleman.

****

He didn’t have much practice not being a skirt hound. So his conversations with the agent were stilted. He was nervous around her. Not sure exactly how to approach her and still show her that he respected her as an agent and a valuable member of their team.

It had been hard. Every fiber of his being urged him to get close to Y/N. Every case they worked together made him crazy with the desire to reach out and take hold of her. Kiss her, caress her, take her to bed and act on every salacious thought he’d had about her.

Instead, Jack had barely looked at her. Keeping his interactions brief and his answers limited to one word.

****

Jack swallowed hard. “Did she give a reason?” He asked.

Champ gave him a level glare. “Apparently she believes that she isn’t welcome here.” He growled. “She thinks you hate her, Jack.”

Agent Whiskey sighed and he tipped his head back and scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

The older man barked a laugh. “Jesus Jack, you love her. Don’t you?”

He nodded, slumping down in the chair. “I didn’t know what to fucking do. I couldn’t treat her like every other woman that has passed through my bed.” He admitted quietly.

The whiskey bottle was extended and another round was poured into Jack’s glass. The older man looked at him fondly, almost fatherly as he leaned back and assessed him. “So don’t. You keep the one you love in your bed.”

It was subtle, but Champ twisted the ring that he wore on his left hand. The wedding band that had been placed there by his late wife more than 40 years prior. Jack knew that feeling. He had lost his high school sweetheart years ago and never thought he would love again. But now, he knew that wasn’t his fate.

“What are you waiting for, boy?” Champ demanded, jolting Jack from his thoughts. “Go tell her how you feel!”

Jack jumped up, nodding at his boss as he rushed from the room.

****

Y/N put the pictures in the box. Champ would have her paperwork finished by Monday, at least she hoped. It would give her the weekend to pack up the apartment that she kept here at Headquarters. She didn’t have a place out in town, thank goodness.

The door to her soon to be ex office burst open. Making her jump as she suppressed a scream.

“Y/N!”

Her heart sank. Agent Whiskey. She was hoping that she would leave the office before he found out that she had requested a transfer. Not wanting to see the satisfaction on his face when she passed him in the hallway.

Jack Daniels hated her. Seemingly had from the moment they met. Although she didn’t have a clue what she had done to turn the agent against her.

He had been friendly with every other new agent that she had graduated with. Laughing easily and inviting them all out for drinks after work. Everyone but her. Y/N was given terse one word conversations. He seemed uncomfortable around her and finally she couldn’t stand it anymore.

After their last mission, where she had watched Jack interact easily with Ginger and then almost flee her presence, she knew that she needed to leave. The California Statesman office needed help and Y/N had requested a transfer as soon as she found out.

She straightened her shoulders as she turned to the painfully attractive agent. She wouldn’t let him see how much his disdain bothered her. “Agent Whiskey. I hope that news of my transfer request puts your mind at ease.”

He closed the door and walked over to her desk, skirting around it to box her in against it.

Y/N took a step back and bumped against the edge of it. “A-agent Whis-”

“Stay.”

She blinked as she heard the plea. His eyes were boring into hers, intently watching her as he opened and closed his mouth several times.

“Wha-”

“I love you.”

Y/N opened her mouth and a squeak came out. Her eyes were wide and surprised as she stared at him. It took her a few seconds for her brain to catch up and then she started laughing.

“Love! Oh shit.” She shook her head and laughed again, scornfully. “You hate me, Agent Whiskey.”

Jack moved closer, grabbing her arms gently. “I’m serious, Y/N. I love you.”

Y/N’s face darkened in anger. “Just stop! No need to be an asshole! You won, I’m leaving!”

She wretched her arm away from his hand and grabbed his shirt to shove him away from her. So he did what any desperate man would. Jack leaned in and kissed her.

She froze and he took advantage of that. Drawing her closer to him as he wrapped an arm around her and deepening the kiss.

Her hands stayed fisted in his shirt, but she melted against him. Jack felt relief and joy course through his system as she started kissing him back. He pressed her against the desk and poured every kiss he had wanted to give her into that moment.

Y/N was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t hear the door open. She jumped and broke away from him as she heard a throat being cleared.

Champ stood in the doorway, holding a file up in his hand. “I see that Agent Whiskey has finally gotten his head out of his ass and decided it was time to make a move.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as Jack shot him a glare.

He wiggled the file. “Can I pretend I never received this?” He asked Y/N.

Jack turned back to her, a question in his eyes as he waited for her answer. Y/N nodded as she looked back up at him. “Champ, I’d like to rescind my request for transfer.”

Whiskey’s grin was wide as he lunged at her again and pressed a hard kiss against her mouth. Making her squeal again as she kissed back..

“Good Lord, man. Take her to your bed, not on the office desk.” Champ grumbled as he walked out of the office shaking his head. “It’s an antique.”

Y/N blushed hotly as Jack chuckled against her mouth. He hadn’t lost her and that was what mattered.

MasterList

Permanent Tag List:

 @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @thisis-theway @hanelijoy @thewaythisis @readsalot73 @little-ms-fandom @ah-callie @cable-kenobi @roxypeanut @arrowswithwifi @badassbaker @javierpenaspinkshirt @wickedfrsgrl @lilangeldevil006 @fioccodineveautunnale @jade10077 @getinthepoolkeanu @kirstiehenderson29 @fleurdemiel145 @thirsty-flygirl @sirianfromsixties @random066 @pascalisthepunkest @pedrosdoll @whataenginerd @earl-01 @tangledlove27 @pedropascalisadilf @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @gamingaquarius @the-baby-bookworm @jaime1110 @yamaktaria @perksofbeingivyy @gooddaykate 

[goldengypsy7]

One Drink Away

 Summary- Jubal says to OA there is no such thing as a recovered alcoholic – all it takes is one bad day. Well here is one bad day that leads Jubal to a bar but somehow Jubal gets roped into a Speed Dating event instead. One of the women may even catch his eye. Some angst Jubal with him almost breaking his sobriety.

It looked so harmless in the glass, the clear liquid gently fizzing away in his hand, tantalisingly harmless. The tonic water bubbles rise, pushing the ice from side to side gently in the tumbler and coating the slice of lime with tiny balls as it bobs on the surface. Jubal’s hand closes around the glass, not raising it from the bar but just cradling it in his hand, watching the bubbles. It could be sparkling water. It could be lemonade. He wished it was either; that he had that kind of self-control. He knew what he should do – put the glass down and walk out of the bar. The little voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to just let go of the glass; he had already lost his wife, his kids. It pleaded with him to not risk his career too – he had barely hung on to that last time around. Without the sobriety, he didn’t get to be a Fed, it reasoned. Did he want to be though, came the small hiss from his shoulder – it brought forth the images. Images he had tried so hard to remove from his mind, but had decorated his computer screen and the JOC all day – battered and bruised women, their lifeless and hollow eyes gapping out of the screens. The families sorrow and anger as they sat defeated in their conference room; their sobbing and wails still echoed through the recesses of his mind even now – hours later. His hand tightened on the glass and the cold edge of the glass touched his lips. Tiny specks of the liquid dotted the top of his nose and upper lip as the tonic fizzed, the ice clinking against the glasses rim. One sip and all of the cries and lifeless broken bodies would go away – it would blissfully silent. His resolve breaks and just as the cool liquid collides with his dry lips and threatens to spill into his mouth, a hand settles on his arm.

 Startling, he jumps, vodka tonic sloshing sideways over the side of the glass and over his hand and chin, dripping on to the bar below. Grabbing the damp napkin his drink had been on, he presses this to his face, wiping away the droplets from his beard and lips as he turns.

 “Oh my god. I’m so sorry for startling you!”

 The young man looks mortified as he hovers behind Jubal slightly to his left. His eyes dart to the man’s hand still attached to Jubal’s arm and the hand is quickly removed. Before Jubal can turn away or say anything the young man continues to speak rapidly, words tripping over each other in his haste,

 “I thought maybe you were here for our group…”

 He gestures an arm behind him at a small group gathered by the double doors leading to the restaurant seating of the bar. As two scantily-clad women moved from bending over a table just to the left of the doors and moved arm in arm giggling through the doors. Jubal’s eyes focused on the sign by the table that they had been obscuring and reading it, his eyebrows raised.

 “…I thought I would come and check but its so loud in here and I thought I would just tap your arm and then you moved and… and I’ve spilt your drink everywhere. Oh god! I’m so sorry, I’m such a clutz! Here… let me…”

 Another napkin was shoved at Jubal’s hand, knocking his glass again, causing the ice cubes to rattle against the side in protest at the jolting.

 “It’s okay.”

 Jubal tries to placate the man, pushing the glass across the bar towards the barman and pressing the napkins to the pool of vodka left in a ring on the bar in front of him. A small flicker of relief fills him as he realises in all of the commotion, not a drop of vodka had passed his lips – just run down his chin and hand.

 “It’s just… well two of the men haven’t shown up and it’s going to throw all of the numbers out. We barely have enough men signing up as it is and we’ve had no walk-ins tonight either. I was kinda hoping you were one of the two missing ones and I’m still talking… Todd get a grip”

 The last part of the sentence was quieter as the man berated himself.

 “Wouldn’t I be too old – isn’t there an age limit to these things?”

 The words came out of Jubal’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them. Sudden hope flickered in to the man’s eyes as he recognised a person on the verge of joining.

 “Not at all – there is no age limit. You would be amazed how many of the women like an older man – more experienced you know! It would be completely free – of course there is usually a charge but seeing as how we are two short and I’ve chucked your drink everywhere…”

 Between Todd’s quick rambling and his insistent hand on Jubal’s arm, Jubal found himself swept across the room and filling in his details on the form pushed in front of him. Excuses pushed to the tip of his tongue, yet Todd was barely stopping for breath as he continued to talk,

 “It’s super easy, all of the women are seated at a table the whole time. You sit across from them and you have 8 minutes with each woman. On the bell you move clockwise around the room – that’s to your right each time. The women don’t move at all. When you’ve been all the way around, the whole thing ends. You will have a sort of tick sheet – tick which women you would like to talk with again and give it into us at the end. If you and her sheets match, then we will pass you her phone number and you can contact each other – that simple. Most of them will hang around at the end, get a drink at the bar etc. Obviously, any rude or pervy behaviour and you are out.”

 A sheet of paper and a pencil is pushed into Jubal’s hand as he is guided to a table and pushed into the chair. He turns but Todd is gone again, moving across the room to help another woman discreetly remove a table and two chairs from the circle. Turning away from Todd’s disappearing back, he faces the woman sitting across from him. The first thing that he notices is that she’s young however this is quickly replaced by the small bemused smile that she is trying to hide behind her hair, which is swinging loose around her face and down her back.

 Jubal jumps slightly as a bell sounds from one end of the room and the woman’s smile grows into a giggle as his pencil almost rolls off the table with his jolt. It is stopped by a slim hand that darts across the table to grab it before it tumbles to the floor. Voices around them start, the volume growing and growing as seconds pass; odd nervous laughter dotting through.

 “Do you want to…?”

 Jubal’s eyes dart from the pencil clasped firmly in his fingers to the woman opposite as her soft New York accent filtered through the surrounding cacophony of noise. Of course, she was expecting him to speak, his mouth opened and his voice engaged and he started to talk well before he thought of what to say,

 “I… uh.. well I’m divorced, got two kids – a boy and a girl. I’m a federal agent and …um a recovering alcoholic. Been sober almost 4 years and almost broke that about 20 minutes ago if uh… Todd hadn’t literally bumped into me and somehow got me to agree to this and… and that’s… that’s more than you needed to know.”

 Jubal’s usually confident voice had been reduced to stutters and stumbling over the words spewing from his mouth suddenly. He trailed off as his brain caught up with him and ducked his head away from the women to look at the label of the bottled water on the table in front of him instead.

 “That was honest – don’t get a lot of that with these things usually. Mostly posers or men with only one thing on their mind. Well, in the spirit of being honest, I’m single. My last boyfriend cheated on me with most of lower Manhattan – well the ones in skirts anyway and I have a very big weakness for shoes – I buy far too many of them!”

 As she talked, Jubal moved his attention from the bottle in front of him up to her face. As she realises she has his attention and made eye contact with him, she smiled. It lights up her face, making her green eyes sparkle and dimples appear in her cheeks. Jubal felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth in return as she continues to speak,

 “For the record – I’m pretty sure Todd has bamboozled all of us into one of these things at one time or another. I know most of the girls – there is no need to be nervous, none of us bite. Well… Tanya at table 4 might but she does have a thing for guys with beards so maybe keep the table between you and her.”

 For the last part she leaned towards him across the table, nodding towards a woman two tables down from them with her head. Bleach blonde, her black dress was so low cut her cleavage was almost falling out of the top and her red nails looks so long they could be claws. Turning his attention away from Tanya, he darted his gaze back to the woman in front of him. She winks conspiratorially before sitting back in her chair again, settling backwards to tip her head to the side to gaze at him,

 “How long have you been divorced? This the first time dating after?”

 Jubal clears his throat, twirling the pencil around his fingers once before answering,

 “Uh… 4 years now. And yeah I suppose this is the first time – work usually gets in the way which is a complete excuse now I’m saying it out loud…”

 “Its always tough getting back out there. Tough to realise everything is over and you need to move on – gotta be harder when you have two kids.”

 Jubal huffs a small laugh as he moves to rub his thumb along his top lip, nodding in agreement.

 “Enough about me – what about you. How long have you and your ex been broken up?”

 She tilts her head, green eyes flitting over his face and he has the distinct impression that he is being read. The look reminds him of Maggie and Dana when they are trying to figure a perp out. Just as the feeling starts, she flicks a smile and inclines her head – letting him change the subject away from him.

 “Two years. Moved in with my sister for a bit while we sold our apartment – would not recommend moving in with siblings again after living on your own – absolute nightmare. Uh… not real excuse for not dating again after only that trusting someone is hard – ya know.”

 Jubal had just enough time to murmur an agreement when the bell clanged, jerking them out of their little bubble and back into the room. Around them chairs scrapped as the men got ready to move round. Blinking at the sudden stopping, Jubal moves to pick up his piece of paper and pencil as the man to this left starts to move towards their table, his shadow falling over them. Fumbling, Jubal gets a few steps away before her voice stops him, making him turn back,

 “Hey – I never got your name.”

 Turning he gazes at her for a second, before realising that she was right. They hadn’t exchanged names.

 “Huh sorry, Jubal”

 Her smile again lights up her features as he moves back towards her reaching out his hand in an automatic movement. He was so used to immediately shaking people’s hands at the Bureau as they exchanged names, that he had started to do the exact same thing. Before, he could over analyse however, a soft warm hand had slid into his.

 “Alice”

 Her voice answered his as their joined hands squeezed for a second palm to palm before a small cough from the man currently seated at Alice’s table caused them to break apart. Alice raised her eyebrows with a small eyeroll as if to say, ‘see – poser or player’ before turning to sit back down again.

 Jubal turned to sit at the next table – facing a young black woman who appeared to be young enough to be his daughter at least. Sighing inwardly, he pushed a smile on to his face as Scarlett introduced herself. This time, he reined himself in with the commentary however, Scarlett didn’t seem to need much help with the conversation, filling most of the 8 minutes with words such as ‘Tik-Tok’, ‘Instagram’ and claimed herself to be an ‘Influencer’ whatever one of those was. Scarlett had seemed to think this was impressive, Jubal wasn’t sure what one was or how this could “change her life”. Jubal just hoped the confusion hadn’t shown on his face too much throughout the conversation. The bell could not come fast enough.

 The next few tables did not get any better – Elsie decided to tell him all about Ginseng Tea and its wonders of helping with erectile dysfunction. Jubal wasn’t sure why Elsie decided to tell him all about this and was starting to get a small complex about his age until Jenna at the next table told him Elsie was telling all of the men this and spent her 8 minutes apologising for Elsie – apparently, they were roommates and good friends.  Maria divulged the best way to rear a Labradoodle. This would have been helpful or at least interesting if Jubal knew anything about dogs – he had had a fish growing up for all of a week before it died and was flushed down the toilet. Maria then tried to sell him a Labradoodle and was very insistent even after a very glad Jubal told her his building would not allow pets – yes even very well-behaved ones.

 Then came the dreaded woman – Tanya. Jubal was not one to judge, especially on appearances. But he was beyond definitely sure that that level of plastic could not be healthy in Tanya’s face… or her chest either. Tanya’s hand gripped down on his arm, her talons… sorry nails dug into his skin for the entire time as she pushed her chest into his face and answered all of his polite questions with thinly veiled innuendos and cackling at her own puns. Jubal had never willed a work call to interrupt his night so much since he had joined the Bureau.  Thankfully the 8 minutes ended quickly and he was round to the last women – Sheena. Sheena managed to hold a conversation with Jubal for the whole 8 minutes without making him feel old or making him want to run away and hide.

 With that people finished filling in their sheets of paper and stood, handing them to Todd and his female minion as some filtered out of the door and the rest moved to order a drink at the bar. He remained seated as Sheena moved away to the bar, staring at his seat of paper. He could safely say no to 6 of the women immediately – yet his pencil hovered over Alice’s name. Looking up, he scanned the crowd and found her, standing hip to the bar as she laughed along with something Sheena was miming out beside her. Her brown hair fell down her back, her jeans were tight to her curves but her shirt was looser, draped over her body – hiding her figure. Shaking his head, he turned away muttering to himself ‘silly old fool’ his pencil moved and marked Alice’s section too. What would a beautiful woman like that want with him? Passing his paper to Todd with a nod, he walked out of the bar and into the cool night air, pulling his coat on he turned and headed towards the subway.

 Sitting in the subway car however, he pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. No messages, no calls. Shoving the phone back into its holster on his hip, he thought back to the yes tick he had put on Alice’s line of his paper. Divorced, alcoholic, bumbling fool - she was probably just being nice and putting him at ease, he thought shaking his head. Idiot he berated himself. Yet, as he walked up the steps and out on to the street again, he thought back to her smile, her sparkling eyes, the way her hand had felt in his.

 As he exited his bathroom, his bedroom was bathed in the white light from his phone. Frowning, he moved across the room to where his phone sat on his night stand. Pushing the home button to get the phone to light up again, he saw a message from an unknown number on his screen,

 Its Alice. Glad we matched – maybe talk again some time?

 Sinking down on to his bed, he stared at the words on his screen and tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach that the words had created. Maybe not so bumbling after all.

[octoberobserver]

“Just To Dream In The Moonlight” - (Eddie Can Sing)

Richie Tozier was on a date.

Eddie Kaspbrak was not.

Instead, he was at home, the home he had been sharing with Richie for five months now, hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table and steadily building up a knot in the base of his spine because he was too fucking old for this shit.

Fuck his life.

He had died, come back, divorced his wife, moved half-way across the country, only to find himself working from home on a Saturday night while his roommate, best friend and, oh yeah, love of his pathetic fucking life, went out to dinner with some handsome, single, ‘Instagram model.’ 

I mean, what the fuck even is that anyway?

Eddie knew this day would come, of course. Had seen it almost instantly after Richie came out, live on stage.

Richie was a catch. He was funny, smart, and…yeah, he’d admit, handsome. Bev was right. He did ‘grow into his looks.’ 

So, it didn’t take a genius to realise that him coming out would soon draw the attention of all the eligible men within a hundred mile radius and for them to show their interest. They’d be fools not to.

And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Kaspbrak?

With a groan, Eddie dragged a palm down his face, snapping his laptop shut and pushing it away from him.

He had to cut out this wallowing bullshit. It wasn’t a good look, at all. 

Richie was on a date and that was…good.

Right?

Eddie, as a good friend, should think that’s a good thing.

Then again - has Eddie always been a good friend? 

With a roll of his eyes, he shut down that line of thinking, knowing it was the blame of the two glasses of wine he had just inhaled while pouring over Teddy’s illegible ‘reports’ while trying to ignore what Richie could possibly be doing right about now.

Or who, his mind added scathingly. 

Shaking his head, Eddie mentally-scolded himself for his stupid, jealous streak. 

Richie had left just over an hour ago, throwing him a half-hearted wave, muttering a low, “Won’t be long, Eds. Trust me,” and snapping the door shut behind him.

It hardly screamed a guy who intended on having a little Wham, Bam, Thank you, Sam. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with a one-night-stand. Richie is a consenting adult, Eddie’s treacherous brain reminded him. 

Despite this, Richie had insisted, all this week that it was “practically a business dinner.” Something that his publicist had apparently set up that was more than a little mandatory for some bullshit-Hollywood-reason. 

Richie had not seemed too psyched about it either. Lamenting to Eddie more than once that he didn’t have time for “aging-ex-Disney-stars-looking-for-the-ultimate-selfie-or-whatever.”

But that had been before he had seen the picture.

Up-and-coming actor and singer, Dylan Lemass was…hot. Even Eddie could concede that.

And, he was a little more age-appropriate (at 33) than most guys DMing Richie at four in the morning.

Richie hadn’t been quite quick enough at hiding his impressed eyebrow quirk at the picture sent to him by Bev after some googling. 

“He looks…nice,” Eddie had ground out through clenched jaw, heart panging as Richie began to nod.

“Uh, yeah. I guess. If…if that’s your type.” 

“Richie, that guy is everybody’s type.” 

He had looked at Eddie then, something indecipherable on his face. 

“I’m not usually into…blonds.” 

Usually.

That had been the only word to ring in Eddie’s head. 

“Well,” he forced himself to shrug, punching Richie harder than he intended on the shoulder, “just see how it goes. You never know…he might…he might be your Mr Right.” 

Fuck, actually, Eddie was a damn good friend, okay? He had encouraged Richie, “Mr Right” and all that shit, and helped him pick between two (admittedly ugly) shirts and everything. 

He was friend of the fucking year.

Friend.

Just a friend.

With a sigh, he crossed to the fridge, fully intending to help himself to the leftover cheesecake that Richie had bought them in celebration of four months of Eddie allowing himself dairy again.

“I know you belong to somebody new,” he sang under his breath, the old song he had heard on the radio this morning continuing to be an ear-worm, “but tonight, you belong to me.” 

He crossed the kitchen to get a spoon from the drawer, because it was an eating-straight-from-the-container-despite-that-being-gross kinda night, and sticking it directly into the strawberry mousse. 

“Although we’re apart, you’re a part of my heart,” he continued, cheesecake in one hand and picking up his half-empty glass with the other, making his way out to the couch.

“But tonight, you belong to—”

“A bit of Eddie Vedder, huh? Eddie squared, I like it.” 

He jumped so high that his red wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass.

“Fuck, Richie! Don’t scare me like that, dipshit!” 

The man in question snorted out a laugh from his position at the front door, keys still in hand, jacket half off one shoulder.

“I did say ‘honey I’m home,’ Eds. Not my fault you were too busy crooning to notice.” 

Eddie’s face flushed as he collected himself, carefully depositing his glass and cheesecake on the coffee table before straightening up and tilting his head at his friend. 

“You’re home early.” 

He didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did. 

He winced.

“I mean, uh…how’d the date go?” 

Richie’s face was pretty expressionless as he shrugged.

“We wined, dined and sixty-nined. Just how I like it.” 

Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“Wha—”

“I’m kidding, Eddie, Jesus,” Richie held up his hands as he kicked off his shoes, leaving them by Eddie’s on the rack by the door and padding over in his socks to the couch, sinking down into it with a loud sigh.

“It went exactly like I thought it would,” he mumbled to the ceiling, slipping his glasses up his forehead to rest in his hair, his eyes falling closed.

Eddie watched him for a moment, unsure what to do, before taking a seat beside him, turning to properly look at him.

He seemed…tired. Weary. 

Sad?

Shit.

Time for Eddie to be a good friend. 

“Well, fuck that guy, Rich,” he reached out and clasped Richie’s arm. “He’s clearly a dumbass if he can’t see what a fucking catch you are.” 

Slowly, those dark eyes that Eddie loved so much blinked open, meeting his with something indistinguishable glimmering in them.

“Thanks, Eddie.” 

It was the most sincere Eddie had heard his friend be in a long time.

It made his heart skip a beat.

Quietly, he reached out and picked up the glass and cheesecake, holding it out.

“Wanna watch that new Chris Hansen exposé?” 

A small smile crossed Richie’s face, breaking through the weariness like a soothing balm.

“Sounds like a plan, Eds Spagheds.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, throwing the remote at him before standing up.

“I’m opening another bottle. Don’t start without me.” 

He crossed the room, into the kitchen and towards the fridge. 

“He couldn’t sing for shit either, Eds,” Richie called after him, sounding pained. “He made me suffer through like four YouTube videos of him squawking his way through covers. I wanted to use the steak knife to stab out my own eardrums. It was fucking torture, man. You’re a hell of a lot nicer to listen to.” 

Eddie froze, bottle in hand, the soft, unthinking compliment making him blush from head to toe. 

“Eddie Vedder is technically a cover too,” he reminded him as he fought (and failed) to keep the grin from his face.

“Yeah, I know but…least it’s not the Patience and Prudence version. Talk about creepy. That’s some Children-of-the-Corn-type shit.”

Eddie snorted out a laugh as he made his way back into the living room, sinking down into the couch, his stomach lurching as his thigh pressed against Richie’s.

Richie held out his cheesecake-topped spoon, dangling it in Eddie’s face and making obnoxious airplane noises.

“Want some before I infect it with my Trashmouth germs, Eds? It’s a one time deal. I know how you feel about double-dipping.” 

Eddie leaned forward, closing his mouth around the spoon, eyes gluing to Richie’s as he swallowed the bite and pulled back slowly.

Richie’s eyes were the size of saucers, clearly shocked that Eddie had called his bluff.

“Uh, I…” he cleared his throat, “it’s good?” 

Eddie smirked, “Yeah, it’s good.” 

“Cool.” 

They lapsed into a short silence, Richie shifting to face the TV just as Chris Hansen popped up and launched into his latest case.

“Thanks, Eds. For the uh…cheesecake.” 

He nodded, deciding not to comment as Richie kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, his shoulder pressing into his as he slowly, carefully, raised the spoon to his own lips.

Eddie blushed like a teenager as he kept his gaze firmly on the TV, trying not to think about the fact that Richie so easily put his mouth somewhere Eddie just had his.

At about the twenty-five minute mark, Eddie felt a soft, familiar pressure close to his neck.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, he saw that Richie had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed into Eddie’s shoulder, his glasses askew.

A small smile spread across his face as Eddie let his own head tip back a little, resting against the couch, the lyrics of that godforsaken song flittering into his brain.

“Wait down by the stream, how sweet it will seem, once more just to dream in the moonlight…” 

(Read the entire series here)

[jamaisjoons]

intro: her VII ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞single dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst (yikes i warned you it was coming) ⋆ fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: like none,,, kissing? the big angst whoopee

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: helLLO CHILDREN! LOOK! its here!! chapter seven and some ANGST hehehee, honestly this is kinda tame for what i have planned big yikes,,, no one yell at me i warned u

⏤ Previous || Masterlist || Next

Namjoon’s lips, all of a sudden on yours, causes your eyes to widen for a fraction of a second before almost instantly slipping shut. His hand moves to loosely grip your neck, lifting your chin higher as your own hand's fist his shirt, pulling him closer. Namjoon’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, your lips parting in response as his tongue slips into your mouth, curling around yours. Though soft and pillowy, his lips are slightly chapped, increasing the friction between your mouths. Namjoon’s other arm winds around your waist, pulling you closer into his body and eliciting a gasp from you, giving him further access to your mouth.

Hands winding up his chest, your fingers carded in his hair, losing yourself in the way his body was pressed against yours and the way his tongue tasted. Tongues languidly gliding against each other, you lose track of time, consumed by the feeling of him. You both stand on Namjoon’s porch, lost in your own world as you feel nothing but each other, the rest of the world fading into the background.

Eventually, when your lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, Namjoon pulls away. Both your eyes stay closed and you feel the way he lingers around your lips, barely a hair’s breadth away. Gradually, your eyes flutter open, his warm breath fanning against your lips as you stare into his eyes. He smiles gently, brushing his nose against yours before repeatedly peppering soft kisses on your lips.

“DADDY’S KISSING NOONA!” Taehyung suddenly screams. You both break out of your daze, bodies seizing in shock. Your face heats and you immediately bury yourself in Namjoon’s chest, mortified at being caught making out by his sons. Namjoon chuckles, hand on the back of your head as he holds you close, letting you hide in his chest.

“Daddy no fair! You have to share! Noona was mine first,” Jungkook whines, running up before trying to squeeze in between you both as he attempts to break you up. Despite the situation, you find yourself laughing into Namjoon’s chest as Jungkook tries his best to get in between your bodies. You let go of Namjoon, grabbing Jungkook before picking him up so he’s sandwiched between you and Namjoon. He grins brightly at you, his bunny smile on display as you attack him with a barrage of kisses all over his face that has him giggling and squealing. Namjoon watches you with soft eyes, a tender smile on his face as he takes in this sight of you and Jungkook.

“Me too! Me too! I want kisses from noona too!” Taehyung says, running up to you and jumping up and down to get your attention. You laugh as you place Jungkook back down on the ground, the youngest pouting as you lavish Taehyung with kisses. Moments later, you feel a slight tug on your arm and turn around, noticing Jimin standing there, a prominent blush on his face as he looks at the ground shyly. Your face crumples and you’re immediately grabbing him, kissing his plump cheeks until he’s smiling brightly. Namjoon stares at the four of you in complete astonishment. He’s conflicted as to how he should be feeling. On one hand, he loves the easiness between you and the boys and just how motherly you really are. But on the other, he feels marginally rejected by his own sons.

“Alright. Alright, come on. We can’t stand out here forever,” Namjoon finally says. You blush, standing up straight as the boys run back into the house. You move to follow them but are halted when Namjoon grabs your arm. You turn to him in surprise, brows furrowing in question.

“I- Um… I was wondering if uh… date. I mean, would-. What I’m trying to ask is-” Namjoon begins, stuttering and stumbling over his own words as his ears burn in embarrassment. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t suppress the grin that breaks out on your face over how flustered he is. Standing on your tiptoes, your hands brace themselves on his strong chest as you press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. Namjoon immediately clamps his mouth shut, staring down at you as he blinks in surprise. You giggle before placing your heels back on the ground, the distance between your faces increasing once again.

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” You say, taking pity on him. Namjoon groans, throwing his head back.

“Sorry, it’s just been so long since I’ve asked someone out or even been on a date that it was… nerve-racking,” Namjoon says, refusing you meet your eyes.

“But you had no qualms about walking up to me and kissing me like that?” You laugh, unable to resist teasing him. Namjoon’s head whips around, staring at you in disbelief, taking in the cheeky smile on your face. He draws up to his full height, eyes darkening before towering over you. Your eyes widen at the change in his demeanour, nervously shifting when he leans above you, lips almost brushing.

“You didn’t have any issues with me kissing you,” Namjoon replies huskily, eyes flicking to your lips. Your own eyes widen slightly, swallowing thickly. This was the Namjoon you were used to, the confident rapper with a cool, sexual demeanour. However, seeing him this up close had you feeling more wired than you had anticipated.

“I- I think we should go in! Before the boys destroy your house,” You quickly blurted out, voice slightly high pitched. You turn and run inside, needing distance between you and him, ignoring Namjoon’s deep chuckle as he follows you into his home. Running into the bathroom, you shut the door with a loud slam before pressing your back against the dark wood. You exhaled deeply, your hand pressed against your chest as you attempted to still the rapidly beating heart under your palms. You walked to the sink, turning the faucet on and splashing your face with cool water.

“Get a grip of yourself!” You hiss, reprimanding your reflection. A couple of moments later, you finally manage to calm yourself down, exiting the bathroom sheepishly. You find Namjoon in the living room, sitting on the sofa while the boys lay on the floor, playing with Monie and their toys. He turns to you with a cute smile, dimples prominent on either of his cheeks and you almost drop your jaw over the complete personality change. How was he so calm and cool one moment and then adorably dorky the next? It made no sense. Patting the space next to him, he beckons you towards the sofa. Your feet move automatically, joining him on the sofa, the TV playing the news in the background.

“So… about that date,” Namjoon begins and you smile shyly, nodding at him to continue.

“I was just wondering when you’d be free,” Namjoon continues. You bite your lip, thinking of your schedule. You and Namjoon were usually pretty busy, you as a veterinarian and Namjoon as a world-class rapper. Would it be hard to find time for each other? He also had the boys to think about, and he’d have to find someone to look after them. Suddenly, an idea pops into your mind.

“How about today?” You suggest, turning your body to look at him.

“Today? That’s short notice. And we can’t go anywhere because of the boys,” Namjoon points out, a befuddled look on his face. Giggling, you nod your head.

“Exactly! We’re both off for the rest of the day, so this is an ideal opportunity yes? But Jimin is sick and you need someone to look after the boys. So how about, as our first date, we just stay in and have a nice dinner,” You suggest. Namjoon cocks a brow at you.

“Is that okay? Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere?” He asks. This was definitely a first. Didn’t girls usually want to get dressed and go out?

“Really, would we be able to go anywhere fancy in the first place? You’re a famous rapper, you can’t just wander the streets of Seoul with another woman. But also I don’t really care about going out. First dates are to spend time and get to know each other. There’s no reason we can’t do that here. Besides, you have three kids to think about. It makes the most sense to do it this way,” You point out. Namjoon’s face turns passive, his eyes turning guarded.

He can’t help but duck down and capture your lips with his again. Your eyes widen in surprise before kissing him back just as vigorously. Namjoon leans forward, pushing you back until your back is pressed to the couch. He really couldn’t believe you were real. Half the time he assumed he was imagining you, because really, what were the chances he’d find someone so accepting of not only his children but mindful of his career too. He can’t help but think that you really could be the one.

Pulling away from his lips, you strain your neck and kiss the tip of his nose, smiling brightly at him. Namjoon moves off of you, reaching over for his phone before pulling you into his side. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, feeling him wrap his arm around your back until you’re pressed into his side, head on his chest. The act comes easy for him, your body fitting perfectly against his as his sons continue playing on the floor, their giggles paired with Monie’s bark filling the room.

“What do you want for dinner?” Namjoon asks, showing you his phone as he scrolls through the different delivery places.

“I don’t mind! You can pick whatever you want,” You suggest, looking up at him from your spot on his chest. Namjoon hums, nodding.

“Okay, let’s keep it simple and go with pizza?” He asks, looking down at you. From this angle, he somehow looks even cuter than he usually did, with his full cheeks, irresistible lips and button nose. You can’t help but lean up, pressing a kiss just over his dimple.

“If ordering pizza gets me kisses then I may just have to order pizza for the rest of my life,” Namjoon jokes causing you to roll your eyes and smack his chest lightly.

“Shut up, I couldn’t help it. But pizza sounds great. Margherita works great for me,” You agree. Namjoon hums, already placing the order. Once done, he throws his phone onto the other side of the sofa, pulling you even closer. It’s strange, this is technically your first date and yet there’s no nervousness in your abdomen. In fact, everything flows with relative ease. When he places a kiss on your shoulder, you can’t help but melt into his embrace, body relaxing even further into his own, much harder one.

“So, what do you want to do?” He asks. Humming in thought, your eyes light up.

“We could watch a film?” You ask, eyes lighting up as Namjoon’s brow quirks.

“Pizza and a film? This couldn’t be any more further from a first date but okay. What do you want to watch?” Namjoon asks. You bounce slightly, eyes twinkling.

“Little mermaid! I haven’t watched it in so long,” You say, hope brimming within you. Namjoon lets out a low laugh, finding your excitement completely endearing. He nods, kissing your forehead before shifting you off of him. You watch as he gets up, walking towards his large collection of children and Disney films before picking out the DVD and putting it into his player. The boys watched him curiously, and when they realise what’s happening they quickly abandon their toys, jumping onto the sofa with you.

“Little mermaid!” Jimin squeals, legs kicking in excitement. Namjoon grins, picking Jimin up from the sofa easily before plopping himself down so Jimin ends up sitting on his father’s lap. Namjoon once again pulls you into his side, one hand casually resting on the sofa behind you. You blush slightly at how domestic it is. Taehyung sits contentedly on your other side; however, Jungkook looks between you and his father with a pout. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, however, he’s crawling into your lap, pointedly looking at his father. Namjoon chuckles at the jealous pout on Jungkook’s face while you giggle at how endearingly possessive he was.

You hear the first notes of the film, snuggling further into Namjoon’s body. You’re pleasantly surprised when Namjoon joins you in singing all the songs, word for word, his eyes sparkling. When ‘Part of Your World’ comes on you cannot help but giggle at the high pitched, tone-deaf, voice that emits from Namjoon’s mouth. However, he remains unfazed, practically belting out the lyrics at the top of his voice, your mixture of laughter and singing drowned out by him. The boys giggle at the both of you, cheering you on with clapping hands. Mentally, you can’t help but think that perhaps he was enjoying this film even more than his sons.

Halfway through the film, you’re interrupted by the pizza delivery guy. Namjoon pauses the film as he pays the guy before grabbing cups for the drink as well as napkins considering how messy his sons were. Pressing play, the five of you sit and happily munch on the pizza, as you continue singing despite having your mouths full of food. Namjoon even attempts to talk with Sebastian’s accent, wiggling his eyebrows and dancing exaggeratedly when ‘Under the Sea’ comes on, his face contorting into various expressions.

He calms down slightly after that, content to sing along with a lower voice through the rest of the film. When ‘Kiss the Girl’ begins playing, you can’t help watching Namjoon from the corner of your eyes, relishing in how easy every interaction comes with him. Namjoon turns around to look at you, his eyes dark and hidden with a different emotion. You blink up at him, losing yourself in his dark, twinkling eyes. He smiles softly at you before bending over and kissing you. You can’t help smiling into the kiss, almost rolling your eyes over how cheesy he was being. Namjoon shrugs, placing another kiss on your lips that has you laughing into his mouth and wrapping your arms around him. When you both break off, the boys jump onto you, causing you to tumble over as they press kisses all over your face.

“Well, this looks cosy. What is going on here?” A voice calls out, all your heads snap towards the entrance of the living room, Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin looking at the scene with amused smiles. You freeze, looking at Namjoon in fear at being caught.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon splutters, sitting up straight and attempting to distance himself from you subtly. However, his movement only causes Yoongi to quirk an eyebrow.

“We came here because we were worried about the boys being sick and to help you if you needed it. But you already have help it seems,” Hoseok says, eyeing you with sparkling eyes, his tone teasing. You let out a small groan, knowing that you were not about to live this down.

“We’re just having dinner,” Namjoon says shortly, not wanting to admit you were both on a date only to have Hoseok and Seokjin tease you both.

“Just dinner?” Seokjin sing songs, his voice taking on a happier lilt.

“Daddy and noona are on a date!” Taehyung rats you both out, his voice filled with childlike innocence. You choke, throwing yourself into a coughing fit while Namjoon hisses Taehyung’ name, the latter looking at his father in confusion, wondering what he did wrong.

“A date?” Yoongi mumbles, looking at the empty pizza boxes before turning to the film that was still being played in the background.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok quickly interrupts, looking positively aghast.

“Yeah, this is not happening,” Seokjin follows and your stomach immediately drops. Did they not want this? Perhaps they didn’t think you were good enough for Namjoon.

“This is nota first date! You can’t just sit in watching a film and eating pizza with children on a date. Especially not the first,” Seokjin continues, berating you both. Your shoulders immediately slump in relief, glad that they were more unhappy with the nature of the date rather than the date itself.

“Well, there’s not much we could do. Besides, ____ suggested this,” Namjoon quickly interjects. Hoseok turns to you, narrowing his eyes before tutting, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Honestly, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” You try to placate them both, but neither Hoseok nor Seokjin heed your words.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not letting this be your first date. Do you have any idea how long Hoseok and I have been waiting for this? Months! MONTHS! Namjoon, go get dressed. Something nice. I don’t care where you go, just go somewhere date like. We’ll watch the boys,” Seokjin rants. You try to interject and tell him you really were fine with this as a first date, but Seokjin pointedly ignores you.

“Leave it ____, they’re not going to listen to us. Just give me a few minutes to change and then we can go somewhere,” Namjoon finally exhales, standing up and dusting pizza crumbs off of himself before disappearing out of the living room. Hoseok and Seokjin turn to you, mischievous smiles on their lips as Yoongi looks at you apologetically. You swallow thickly, not liking the predatory grins on both Hoseok and Seokjin’s faces.

“So ____, guess your dreams are finally coming true,” Hoseok teases. You narrow your eyes at him, throwing an empty dipping sauce pot at his head. On instinct, Hoseok ducks out of the way, laughing at the scowl on your face.

“Has he kissed you yet?” Seokjin asks and you let out a little gasp, face burning as you look away. Seokjin laughs, his high pitched chuckle filling your ears as you try your hardest to ignore him.

“If you don’t want to answer that’s fine, I can ask Taehyung,” Seokjin teases and your eyes widen, knowing that Taehyung couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Just as Seokjin opens his mouth, you whip around. Throwing yourself against Seokjin, you tackle him to the ground, covering his mouth and glaring at him. Hoseok lets out a loud, raucous laugh as you struggle to keep Seokjin pinned down and his mouth shut.

“What is happening?” Namjoon asks, glaring at the way you were practically straddling Seokjin. You let out a little yelp, scrambling off him before smiling sheepishly at Namjoon.

“No need to get jealous Namjoon, ____ here was just trying to stop me asking Taehyung if you had kissed,” Seokjin sing songs, causing you to scowl at him. Namjoon blushes slightly before rolling his eyes at Seokjin’s waggling eyebrows.

“Come on ____, let’s go,” Namjoon says, smiling softly at you. You nod, getting up and gathering your things.

“Have fun! But not too much fun, if you know what I mean,” Hoseok calls out, him and Seokjin both snickering at you. Namjoon shakes his head in exasperation, turning to look at Yoongi.

“They still need their bath. Jimin’s antibiotics are on his table. We’ll probably be back after their bedtime,” Namjoon says, Yoongi nodding.

“I know how to look after your sons Namjoon, I’ve been doing it since they were born,” Yoongi drawls, Namjoon nodding.

“Yes, yes I know! Okay boys, daddy and noona are going out now. Be good for hyungs okay?” Namjoon says, squatting down and pressing kisses to their heads. You move to wave goodbye to them, only making the boys whine instead.

“Noona! Kisses!” Jungkook pouts, stomping one of his little feet. Hoseok and Seokjin snicker, causing you to glower at them briefly before bending and copying Namjoon, placing soft kisses on their heads.

“Do we get kisses too?” Hoseok asks, his face a picture of innocence but his eyes twinkling with mischief. Rolling your eyes, you turn to join Namjoon, smacking the back of Hoseok’s head as you leave.

“Hey!” Hoseok whines. Namjoon chuckles as he wraps an arm around you.

“That’s what you get,” Namjoon laughs before guiding you out of the house, leaving a pouting Hoseok behind.

Leaving Namjoon’s house, you both walk down the street. The night is quiet, the air crisp against your warm skin causing you to pull your jacket around you tighter. Neither of you says anything, more than happy to quietly walk beside each other. Namjon looks at you from the corner of his eyes, brows furrowing when he notices your huddled form and frosted breath. Stepping closer to you, he takes your hand in his.

“Sorry, it’s kind of cold, isn’t it? I don’t really drive and it’s late. Plus we’ve already had dinner,” Namjoon says softly, trying to warm you up with his body heat. Shaking your head, you look up at him.

“It’s really not that cold, I think I’m just feeling it because your house was warm. I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” You say as Namjoon nods but grips your hand tighter. He pulls you down a different, much more secluded road and you look around, wondering where he’s taking you.

“So, do you know where you’re going? Or is this where you murder me and steal all my money. Although, you already have a lot more money than me,” You joke. Namjoon looks at you in surprise before laughing.

“It looks shady I know, but there’s a park near here. I thought we could go there?” Namjoon replies. You giggle, nodding and gripping his hand tighter.

A couple of minutes later, your both arrive at a gated off park. Namjoon walks to the entrance, pulling you into the park before walking towards a large tree. It’s almost completely dark and you practically have to squint to see where you’re both going, the only light source available to you the crescent moon and the few stars you could see in the sky. You cling closer to Namjoon; the darkness was daunting but you felt completely safe with his presence. He had that off, comforting effect on you.

Moments later, Namjoon comes to an abrupt stop. You cannot see much, so you can only assume that Namjoon’s brought you somewhere to the middle of the park. Squinting harder, you can make the outline of his large figure bending down before laying on the grass, almost blending into the ground. He tugs your hand and you calm your nerves, knowing you were safe with Namjoon. You join him in laying on the ground, Namjoon pulling you closer to him. You’re both staring at the sky, the dark grey clouds passing over and obstructing the moon every now and then.

“So this was your big plan?” You finally ask, your voice cutting the eerie silence of the night.

“I didn’t have time to come up with a big plan! Why? Are you not enjoying yourself?” Namjoon asks and you can hear the slight worry in his voice. You quickly shake your head, turning to where you think his head should be but only coming face to face with a dark, faceless outline.

“No, it’s oddly calming. It would be nicer if the stars were out and it wasn’t cloudy,” You say, turning back to the sky. You feel Namjoon nod, shifting closer to you. You can almost feel the waves of nervousness wash over him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and Namjoon sighs.

“There’s a song I wrote… do… you want to hear it?” Namjoon asks and you blink before nodding. You feel Namjoon shift and the rustling of fabric before a bright light fills the dark night. You squint at the blinding light as Namjoon scrolls through his media before finding the song. Clicking play, you hear a soft beat fill the silence then Namjoon’s soft voice starts to play through his phone. You fidget nervously, the lyrics filling your head.

“I say this could be something. This is something,” his voice comes across the phone, as the song ends. You feel Namjoon’s nervousness spike and hear the way he swallows thickly.

“Do… do you like it?” Namjoon asks but you’re a bit lost for words. Was the song about you? You didn’t want to be presumptuous but surely it was about you?

“You’re not saying something. Do you hate it? Oh my god. I knew it was stupid to write you a song,” Namjoon begins blurting out but your body stills at his word, head snapping to look at him.

“So it is about me?” You finally say and Namjoon stops his panicked rant.

“Um… yes. I wrote it around when we first met. That’s not weird right?” He asks and you quickly shake your head, heart soaring at the gesture. He’d written you a song!

“It’s… beautiful. I really like it,” You finally say, hearing Namjoon’s relieved sigh.

“Thank god. I’m glad! I wasn’t sure if it would come out as creepy or not,” Namjoon confesses, causing you to giggle.

“It was definitely adorable. Not creepy at all in this very dark park or anything,” You tease, Namjoon poking your side.

“Ah yes, definitely not creepy to drag a girl into a deserted park and play her a song you wrote for her when you first met,” Namjoon replies, a teasing inclination in his tone. Silence falls between you two again as you both stare up at the night sky, watching the dark clouds slowly pass by.

“I’m not going to lie, as far as first dates go, I think this is my favourite.” Namjoon breaks the silence, his voice low and calming. You hum in agreement.

“Well, if we’re not lying then, this is my first date in a long while too,” You confess. Namjoon shifts, looking at you in surprise. Not that you could really see his face.

“Really? Why is that?” He asks curiously and you sigh, biting your lip nervously.

“I got out of a really bad relationship a year and a half ago,” You whisper, Namjoon tightening his hold on you.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough that I moved halfway across the country. I don’t really want to talk about it,” You finally say and Namjoon nods, more than happy to change the subject as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“If it helps, this is my first date in a long time too. I had wanted to ask you out before but I didn’t know whether I should or not,” Namjoon confesses. Your brows furrow and you shift to your side, looking up at where the outline of his face was.

“Why?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were in it for the long run or not. I have three children I need to think about. I can’t do casual anymore. I can’t just introduce someone into their lives who isn’t going to stay you know?” Namjoon asks.

His words shouldn’t come as a shock. They really, really shouldn’t. Because it made complete sense. He had three young children to think about and introducing a woman to them only for them to grow attached and have her leave was decidedly a very bad idea. So no, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. And yet his words have your heart racing. And not in a good way. You feel your breath quicken, hands turning clammy as you begin to feel flustered and overwhelmed.

You had known this when saying yes. You had known that Namjoon would have thought through everything and then thought it over once again before even trying anything. But you hadn’t. You should have. You should have known that Namjoon was in this for the long run and maybe you could be. But this was happening too soon. You loved the boys and yes you could hang out with them for a few hours… but being a mother?! You had no idea how to do that.

The weight of what it means to be with Namjoon and be in his life romantically hits you like a tonne of bricks and suddenly you’re left feeling more overwhelmed than you had in a long time. Panic grips your every being. You hadn’t planned for this. You didn’t know if you could do this. Did you even want to do this? You’d known Namjoon for over half a year now, sure, but even then it felt like you were potentially rushing into things. You lost yourself in Namjoon and playing house with him that you hadn’t even really considered what it meant to really be with him and what it meant to be with the boys.

“____? Are you okay?” Namjoon asks, sensing something is wrong. You sit up immediately, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart, ignoring the part of you that is yearning for Namjoon’s warmth and calming presence.

“I… I don’t know if I can do this,” You finally manage to whisper and Namjoon feels as if someone had drenched him in ice-cold water.

“What do you mean?” He whispers, fear gripping him.

“I don’t… Namjoon I don’t know if I can be a mother. I don’t know the first thing about being a mother,” You say. Namjoon hears the complete terror and anxiousness dripping in your voice and he feels his stomach drop. This is the exact thing he had been afraid of.

“____… what are you trying to say?” Namjoon asks, voice thick with emotion. You’re both glad each other’s faces are obstructed by the darkness of the night. You don't want to see the heartbreak on his face that is clearly dripping in his voice and Namjoon doesn’t want to see the fear and apprehension on yours.

“I don’t know,” You whisper, because honestly, you didn’t. Namjoon takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves. Feeling himself shift away from you, your mind screams amidst the panic. Yelling at you to throw yourself into him. But you can’t seem to move past the overwhelming trepidation that courses through your bloodstream.

“Well… I need you to know. I can’t be doing this anymore ____. I’m not getting younger and the boys definitely aren’t getting younger. I can’t be doing this second-guessing thing. I need you to be sure. They love you. Like they love a mother. But if you’re not up for that, I can’t… I won’t break their hearts like that. So I need you to be sure. Because I’m in this for the long run and I need you to be too.” Namjoon finally says, his voice level despite the crushing ache in his chest.

“I… I don’t know…” You reply, struggling to get the words out. You and Namjoon sit in silence; though once comfortable, now it’s devastatingly thick with tension.

“So what now?” You finally gather the courage to ask. You hear Namjoon take in a deep breath, drawing in closer to yourself, head almost buried in your knees.

“It seems we’re at an impasse.”

A/N: i know i told everyone not to yell at me, but  I also know you will definitely yell at me so,,,, go ahead ksksksksksksk. Also, the song that Namjoon plays is called Something by,,, well him hehe

▷ Masterlist | Chapter 8

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

Cecilos #4?

Cecil doesn't date often. He doesn't remember the last time he went on a real date. He is hesitant to even download grindr but did so anyway. 

 He never expected to get a match, let alone a date. He almost didn't go but Earl had managed to talk him into it. 

Now, Cecil stands in front of the long mirror in his bedroom. It's been so long that Cecil had no idea how to dress. He finally settled on a cream colored button up and a pair of slacks. He fiddles with the collar of the shirt, wondering if it wasn't too little. His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet chime of his phone. No time to back out now. Carlos is here. Maybe he could fake being sick? 

Cecil chews his bottom lip as he answers the door. He can feel the excuse at the tip of his tongue but he was not ready for what greeted him. 

Cecil is greeted by a delicate bouquet of yellow and purple flowers.  "Oh." He says softly. He takes the flowers with a soft expression. He looks up and his breath stops. The man standing there is beautiful. He had gorgeous eyes and hair that looked soft enough that Cecil wanted to bury his fingers in it. Cecil stared at him for several minutes before Carlos broke the silence. 

"You're Cecil right? Cause this would be really embarrassing if I showed up at the wrong house on the first date."

Cecil finds his voice and manages to stop staring. "First date? You seem so sure there will be another." 

"I'm hoping so. You're pretty cute." 

Cecil buries his face in the flowers to hide the growing blush. "I'll be right back. Put these in water." He squeaks. He hurries into the house, leaving Carlos on the doorstep. He puts the flowers in a simple vase on the table before returning to the door after grabbing his jacket and house keys. "I'm ready." 

"Oh good. Shall we?"

Cecil nods and pulls the door shut, locking it. He then follows Carlos to his car. A small eco friendly hybrid. Cute. "I'm sorry for being so awkward. I don't date often."

"Really? A pretty face like yours?"

Cecil shifts a bit, uncomfortable. Just a pretty face. He had been told repeatedly. "My son is my first priority."

"You have a son?" Carlos asks, glancing at him. It wasn't accusing or negative. Instead he sounded curious. 

"Yes. He's eleven." Cecil says, a bit defensively. "I'm sorry if that's an issue with you."

"No. No it's not an issue. I just… I teach the fifth grade." Carlos explains. "So I love kids. They're brighter than most people give them credit."

Cecil feels himself relax a little. "That's true." 

"So what do you do?"

"I'm sorry?"

"For work I mean." Carlos pulls into the parking lot of Benson's, a small local diner.

"Oh!" Cecil laughs softly. "I run a bookstore."

"That's really cool. I love books." Carlos smiles. 

"I'd hope so or you'd be a sucky teacher." Cecil climbs out and joins Carlos on the sidewalk. 

"Is that so?"

"Well aren't books a big part of your job? I get a lot of teachers in the shop." Cecil follows Carlos into the diner. 

"Are any of them as cute as I am?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cecil snickers as he follows the hostess to their table. 

"Maybe I would." Carlos retorts as he sits down and picks up a menu. 

"Maybe you could find out if you bother to come in."

"Is that an invitation or a challenge?"

"Take it how you will." Cecil looks up at the waitress and orders a coke while Carlos orders a sweet tea. "But the offer stands." He peers over the top of the menu. He then closes it and folds his hands, knowing what he wanted already. 

"I might just take you up on that."

"You'd better." Cecil folds the menu. "I wouldn't mind a little after hours book club." He gives a small smirk. 

"I wouldn't mind showing you my comprehension techniques." Carlos retorts with a grin. 

"I doubt you have something I haven't seen before." Cecil looks up as the waitress brings back their drinks.

"What can I get started for you?" She asks, giving Cecil a sweet smile.

"I'll have the house special. But with no pickles. Please."

"Alright." She picks up his menu. She then turns to Carlos and her entire body language changes. She bites her bottom lip and bats her eyelashes, pushing her chest out. 

Cecil finds it ridiculous but he doesn't get out often so maybe this is normal.

"And for you sugar?"

Carlos glances at Cecil with an expression that says 'is this woman okay?'. "I'll have the same but keep the pickles."

"Anything for you honey. Together or separate?" She asks, looking up from her small notepad. She asks "separate" in a hopeful tone.

Carlos hums and gazes at Cecil for a moment before reaching over and taking his hand. "Together. It's our anniversary. We had our first date here." 

Cecil sits in stunned silence with a lightly flushed face but the waitress seemed to get the hint and walked away. 

Carlos finally lets go when the waitress is out of sight. "Sorry. I hate when that happens. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable- uh….Cecil? You okay?"

Cecil blinks rapidly for a few seconds before pulling his hand back and putting it in his lap. "I'm sorry. Like I said, I don't date. The last date I went on was with my ex wife….six years ago."

"Ex wife?" 

Cecil shifts and looks away. "I...don't really know you well enough to talk about that." He looks back. "Yet."

"Yet?" Carlos smiles. 

"Yet." Cecil feels himself relax. "It wasn't a good marriage so it was hard to get back into the dating scene."

"Was I what you were expecting?" Carlos props his chin on his palm. 

"Well….you're a bit shorter than I imagined." Cecil teases, biting his slightly chapped bottom lip.

"Hey!" Carlos kicked him lightly. "Not all of us can have legs like a Mantodea."

"A...excuse me? I really can't tell if you just insulted me or not."

Carlos chuckles, a deep warm sound. "A mantis." 

"A mantis?"

"Mhm." Carlos brushes his leg against Cecil's knees, sending a visible shiver to the taller man. "So can I ask you something kind of personal?"

Cecil folds his hands on the table. "As long as it isn't about my ex wife, go ahead."

"That's a very broad category."

"I'm a fairly open person. And that wasn't a question."

Carlos laughs and nods. "You got me there. My question is…. Why me? Why'd you accept my date?"

"Would you believe you're the only one I matched with?"

Carlos snorts and shakes his head. "Not by a long shot."

"Fair enough. How about the only one I matched with that wasn't looking for a one night stand?"

"Now that I do believe."

"I'm not….opposed to sex but I've only ever had sex with women and never really enjoyed it."

"So why marry a woman- I get relationships shouldn't rely on sex but….why?"

"Where I come from, we're pushed from a young age to marry good and have kids. I absolutely love my son. He's the best thing in my life but I'm glad I can accept myself for who I am now."

"Did you love your wife?"

"I've already told you-"

"Right. Don't talk about your wife. Sorry." Carlos puts his hands up.

Cecil sighs softly and looks up as the waitress returns. She gives Cecil a sour look but gives Carlos a sweet smile. 

"Call if you need anything sugar."

Cecil watches her go before, as a habit, takes the top bun off of his burger. "I got pickles." He sighs, picking them off. 

"Well pickles are like virginity. If you don't want yours, I'll take it." Carlos grins.

Cecil freezes and flushes again. "C-carlos."

"Ah." Carlos squeaks. "Sorry."  

Cecil offers him the pickles, covering his mouth to hide a giggle. "I'm afraid I can only offer you one at the moment as we are in public."

"Is that so?" Carlos smirks and accepts the pickles, keeping a hold of Cecil's hand for a moment, kissing the knuckles. 

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

"I'm patient." Carlos brushes against Cecil's leg again. 

The rest of dinner went smoothly. Cecil finds himself enjoying Carlos's company. Everytime the waitress came by to flirt with Carlos under the guise of checking on them, Carlos would reach under the table, grasping Cecil's knee and stroking it with his thumb. 

At the end of the night, as Carlos expected, the waitress had written her number on the check so when they stand, Carlos pulls Cecil close and kisses his temple. 

Now they were sitting in the driveway. Cecil bites his bottom lip. "Walk me to the door?"

"Of course." Carlos smiles and turns the car off before they get out. 

Once on the porch, Cecil turns. "I had a really nice time tonight."

"There's only one thing left to do and tonight will have been perfect."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"A good night kiss." Carlos puts a hand on Cecil's face and leans forward, kissing him. 

Cecil is hesitant at first but when Carlos starts to pull away, he puts his arms around the shorter man's neck. That seemed to tip the scale and Carlos pulled Cecil closer to him before pressing him back against the wall of the house. Cecil makes a soft noise and tangles his fingers in Carlos's hair. Cecil spreads his legs a little when Carlos presses his knee up between them. 

Cecil is a bit lost in the moment that when the door opens, he nearly falls. 

"Dad? Why are you ringing the doorbell so much? Did you forget your key-"

Cecil turns his head, and feels himself flush but at the same time go pale. "M-Michael!"

Michael wasn't looking at him though. "Mr. Mendez?"

Cecil feels Carlos step back. 

"Michael?" Carlos asks, clearly as confused as Cecil. 

"You know each other?" Cecil asks, fixing his clothes. 

"He's my teacher!" Michael exclaims at the same time that Carlos says "I'm his teacher."

----- x -----

This will have 2 follow ups. A fluffy one on here and a rated m one I will post on ao3

[sinnhelmingr]

tell me about heldolin possible reconcilliation? // @usedhearts​

rubs my filthy little gay hands together. oh yeah baby talk complicated wlw to me--

So, the groundwork for this hypothetical: Our little AU for 3, where Gwyndolin is saved from her canonical fate by a daring rescue on the part of her ex-wife. The two have been distant for some decades, ranging from cool hostility to open disregard, but with that underlying air of disappointment lacing every interaction. There’s nothing to salvage, but Hel’s not the kind of person that can leave anyone to what was planned, regardless of their interpersonal issues. One fraught road trip through enemy territory until they reach safety later...

Well there’s a lot to work through. First being Lin’s lingering trauma surrounding her captivity. Her we get the first hints of reconciliation in Hel’s refusal to let her deal with it alone. Yes, Gwynevere can help, and yes, her realm is safe and offers whatever support the wayward queen requires, but no one here saw it. No one here understood what the Valley had become. Even if they have lingering disagreements, Hel is the one sleeping on the floor of Lin’s chamber rather than in her own bed, because she can’t stand to think of someone she once cared for dealing with all of this alone. It helps, in some way, because Lin does need someone there and is going through it trying to cope.

Every possible reconciliation attempt proceeds from there. Hel has gone through, well, hell and back to save Lin and is still devoted to making sure she’s safe, but it’s not romantic. It’s honestly just Hel doing what she perceives as the right thing. Whether it helps or not, or her role could be filled by anyone else Lin cared for, it doesn’t matter because she’s the one there. And like it or not, she’s not going anywhere. From this, we have a variety of options but the two I personally see working out are these: 

Lin coming to rely on that, sort of clinging to Hel even if not literally. When not dealing with any official business regarding the ongoing political nightmare, she might drift towards Hel, wherever she is within the palace. 

Alternatively, given the mood of most of their interactions post-divorce, there’s a chance it starts as resentment. That Lin can’t stand to be in her shadow, clinging to her in the daylight when her struggles are easier to bear. 

Either way, the two are at least within physical proximity to one another, given Lin’s mental health and coping skills. Which is, inevitably, going to lead to a lot more run ins with her nephew.

Hel in a lot of ways has come to care for Lothric as if he were her own, because my God someone has to love that kid beyond his brother. Someone has to care about his wellbeing. He’s irreverent and he’s anxious and he’s struggling but determined to keep going, hardly the pious saint of the royal family’s propaganda. His wit is sharp and at times cruel, and he’s unsure about a lot of things but trying to hide that fact. Lin’s going to have to, through watching Hel interact with him, accept that her nephew is in fact more than a sacrifice -- for now. I think it’s Lin showing initiative to defrost ice queen around Lothric is going to start changing Hel’s demeanor towards her as well.

Like that’s not to say Lin changing overnight to team ‘hey yeah let’s not roast a living person with autonomy who never had a chance to live!’ is what it would take. That’d be unrealistic and OOC. I think it’s just. Hel being able to see that Lin can set aside her pride or stubbornness just long enough to get to know her sacrificial lamb as a person, as something more than what the rest of the world makes him by hers and Nev’s design. Lin defrosts to Lothric, Hel defrosts to Lin. It’s equivalent.

I think that would be the tipping point to sort of lessen the feeling of obligation between them. Maybe they can finally start talking again like people who are on at least civil terms, if not outright friendly. In my head it plays a little like their initial childhood interactions where Lin is reticent but observant and Hel is the more daring of them. She leads, and for a time, to a certain degree, Lin follows. And during the course of the narrative, as the latter grows stronger, as she acclimates herself to life outside of a cage, Hel starts to back off more and more. 

Maybe Lin won’t need her so much now, maybe things will go back to normal. And instead, Lin still leaves the door open between them, as it were. Just because she’s no longer so reliant on Hel doesn’t mean she wants her gone. 

Or maybe she tries to keep her distance if she’s still fighting against certain imminent realizations. Maybe she tries to shut the door but finds, as always, Hel has a key and she just. Accepts it over time. It’s her choice whether to come and go, just as she can choose to tell her to leave. 

Another vital step in their potential reconciliation is that it not be built upon reliance or obligation -- now they can see each other as relative equals.

By this point Hel’s been doing everything short of actually saying the words to convey she’s not stopped loving Lin. Even if she doesn’t realize it, there’s no other way people can take her actions. For Lin, I don’t know if it’s that simple but we can talk it out next time you’re online because Christ I’ve been typing this so long the weekend is over and you are back at work. The vibe I get from your Lin is that even if she cares she’s daddy’s girl and stubborn as hell once she’s been hurt. She’s either unsure or unwilling to convey that she’d like to patch things up. Which is valid, she’s been through a lot, there’s so much to work through before she even thinks of romance ever again. She’s especially been through the loss of her daughter, and that bond comes before anything else.

(Sidenote for those who are not privy to our discord lore: Let’s put a pin in the fact that at present Lothric has decided his salvation lies in overriding his mother’s decision to just lock him in the kiln once he’s ‘ready.’ He’s seen how Hel can influence his aunt and said ‘Yes, of course, I have to Parent Trap them into a reconciliation and then Hel will convince Aunt Gwyndolin I deserve to live and Mother won’t have any allies left!’ All the while his primary lackey is just questioning what version of the Parent Trap he saw because that’s not the plot at all-- /j. Anyway there’s three idiots -- two princes and a physician -- out here trying to play matchmaker despite the fact none of them have any romantic experience. This can only end well.)

I feel like the real test is going to be whether distance makes the heart grow fonder. Hel’s got other responsibilities out there, and once assured Lin is in a more stable place, that others will be there for her in a way that helps, she has to take care of them. She has to be with her own people, has to make sure they are safe, keep an eye on the world beyond. She’s gone like a thief in the night, and Lin has to learn how to navigate the world without her, furthering the balancing act between them returning to normal. Hel rode off on her big black horse and no one cna say for sure when she’ll be back. She comes and goes through the kingdom like a storm, staying just long enough to cause problems but gone with the slightest shift in atmosphere. The horse comes back only weeks later. Its rider does not. Instead, perched upon that black stallion is a familiar crossbreed, tattered but hanging in there.

Hel saved her, at the cost of her own freedom. What can Lin possibly think about that?

So it’s a flurry of Lin campaigning for her sister to send a party to save Hel, Nev saying that she can’t do it yet, possibly as she is is too busy with the fracturing of her own kingdom to lend the men. All the same, she forbids Lin from going off and doing something drastic. Tells her younger sister to stay with her daughter and help Yorshka heal. She needs it. Which works bc we have that big dramatic Hel returning to the castle drenched in blood and falling cinematically into Lin’s arms. It’s the drama these wlw deserve. 

And as we know, Lin insists on being Hel’s own caretaker while she recovers. To the point she scrutinizes every move Lothric’s physician makes in checking that the newly returned Death isn’t badly injured. Lothric thinks he stays winning because now Lin’s doing the same ‘demonstrate love but don’t speak it’ bullshit that Hel is so adept at. He’s buying his physician drinks after this despite her protests that alcohol does not sit well with her--

Hel eventually recovers enough from the strenuous battle and escape to start moving around the castle more. She confesses that, despite gossip saying this was some act of passion to show her devotion, she didn’t do this for Lin. She did it because it was the right thing to do, because Yorshka was in danger, and it had nothing to do with her mother. Something that breaks Lin’s shell completely because it proves Hel is still the woman she fell in love with. She didn’t risk her life and return the one Lin loves the most as a hollow token meant to win her heart again, she did it because her conscience has never steered her wrong. 

Now try this one on for size: One day it dawns on Hel that something is missing. She tears up her room seeking it only for Lin to finally be That Bitch and hold out her exes wedding pendant -- one she found that Hel never stopped wearing, if the fact it was still around her throat when Lin stripped her of her bloody dress is any indication. Hel’s been found out. Lin’s about to start asking some serious questions.

And if one of them can finally confess at this point that whether the love stopped or never did they feel it now just as they did before, that’s not the end. That’s not reconciliation. Because the fact remains that they broke up over an act that Hel considered pure evil, when Lin helped decide the ultimate fate of Lothric. Reconciliation is going to depend wholly on how AU we want to go, if Hel and the revived Artorias are able to convince Lin that this is heinous and even if it is what her father would have wanted, it isn’t right, it makes her just as terrible as he was. If Lin can finally see to reason or at least sentiment over legacy and duty, then I can see the pair moving towards actual reconciliation and spending at least the last days of a dying world together and at peace with their ultimate fates. If not... Oof. There might be other ways to make it work once Lothric goes rogue and says he won’t be kindling, if Lin can admit that yes, that means all the cruelty was for nothing and she was wrong (like her sister does), then maybe some slowburn reconciliation could take place.

But ultimately it’s going to depend on both character development on Lin’s part, whether by choice or in spite of resistance, and Hel proving that all the things Lin has accused her of (changing, being untrue, being corrupted by heresies) are untrue. Changing and steadfast characterization in tandem. Barely even friends (after the divorce) then somebody bends unexpectedly--

[deliriumsdelight7]

Breaking Cycles Chapter 8

Lachlan was drifting somewhere on the fuzzy edge between asleep and awake when he felt a pair of pillowy soft lips drag across his chest.  For a brief second he couldn’t remember where he was.  The room was pitch dark, which told him nothing.  The bed was more comfortable than his own lumpy mattress, and his arms were full of a woman with the softest skin he’d ever felt.  The tips of her silky curls tickled his chest, teased his nose with the scent of flowers.  Belle.

A slow, lazy smile curled his lips as he felt her tongue dart out to taste him.  After their first bout of mindblowing sex, they’d cuddled together on the bed - him on his back, with her curled into his side, head on his shoulder and legs tangled with his - until they fell asleep.  This was a new experience for Lachlan.  Apart from his ex-wife, all of his previous partners had been either one night stands, or friends with benefits.  Cuddling had never been on the menu, and it had never occurred to him to want it.  As for Catherine, she was a hot sleeper - couldn’t stand physical contact when she drifted off.

With Belle in his arms, he felt submerged in safety, covered in comfort.  Clearly he’d been missing out all these years.  And if he had her roving hands and hot mouth coaxing him awake to look forward to, then he could definitely get used to this.

He held his breath as Belle’s mouth found his nipple, circling it with her tongue before drawing it into her warm mouth with a suction that sent a bolt of pleasure straight to his cock.  Stifling a moan, he fought to keep his hips still as her fingers quested down his stomach, toward his groin.  Light, tickling touches teased his lower belly and hips, cruelly steering clear of the place he needed her touch the most.

The wet heat of her mouth abandoned his chest, the sudden rush of cool air making him shiver.  The mattress shifted beside him, and a warm puff of air hit his ear.

“I know you’re awake,” Belle whispered huskily.

Groping blindly, his fingers found and threaded through her hair.  He tugged her closer to align his lips with hers, but didn’t cross the final distance between them.  Her breath huffed impatiently against his lips.  A smug grin spread slowly across his lips.

“I can hear you smiling,” she grumbled.  “Kiss me already.”  Still, he held back.

The first few times they kissed, Lachlan had let Belle initiate.  Part of him hadn’t trusted his judgment to read Belle’s signals, and he was determined not to fuck this up by pushing for too much, too fast.  

Tonight had thoroughly laid those fears to rest.  Now he had a different reason for holding back.  Belle was not a patient woman when it came to sex, and teasing brought out a sensual avarice in her that transformed her soft, gentle caresses to groping clutches that greedily tugged him closer.  That uncharacteristic aggression warmed him inside and out, made him feel wanted, and he loved every second of it.  He’d happily let her drag him wherever she wanted, a willing puppet on her strings.

Her reaction now didn’t disappoint.  Instead of tugging him closer by the hair of his nape, she pushed at his shoulders with a growl, pressing him firmly into the mattress while she threw a leg over him to straddle his hips.  His blood boiled at the feel of her dripping folds rubbing over his aching cock.  His breath hissed between his lips as he gripped her hips, stilling her before he utterly disgraced himself.  He felt Belle lean over him, her perfect breasts pressing against his chest as she prepared to kiss him, when a phone vibrated.

Belle froze.  Every muscle in her body tensed.  The light from her phone on her nightstand illuminated her face just enough that he could see the anguished frustration in her eyes.

“Just ignore it,” he whispered.

Her glance darted back and forth between him and the phone, torn by indecision.  “I… I can’t ,” she moaned, climbing off him and snatching up her phone.  She hurried out of the room without another word and closed the door behind her.  He could hear her muffled voice through the wall as she answered the phone.

Lachlan sat up, fumbling blindly for the switch on the bedside lamp and turning it on with a click.  The light blinded him temporarily, and he blinked against its glare.  His arousal had completely subsided in the face of Belle’s upset.  He didn’t know what was going on, but it couldn’t be good.

“No.  You promised me.  You promised one night…” her voice trailed into unintelligibility as she paced away from the door.

He raked his fingers through his hair with a ragged sigh.  A brief search of the room revealed his boxers crumpled at the foot of the bed.  He slipped them on and perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for Belle to finish her call.

“Please.  After everything I do, I at least deserve…”  More muffled words, and a resigned sigh.  Then, “Fine.  I’ll see you soon.”

Lachlan waited a few more moments, but Belle didn’t come back to the bedroom.  Casting his eyes about the room, he spotted a fluffy, powder blue robe hanging from the closet door.  He snatched it up.  Leaving the room, he found her slumped over the kitchen table, her face buried in her hands.  Her back was turned to him, her nude form cast half in shadow in the light from the stovetop.

In all the times he’d seen Belle, she’d seemed tirelessly optimistic - like fate could throw a tsunami of shit at her, and she’d come out the other side shaking a few drops of water off her umbrella and galoshes with a smile, untouched by the worst the world had to offer.  Even when he’d unwittingly upset her last weekend, she’d shrugged off any hurt feelings in moments.  Seeing her deflated like this didn’t sit right with him.  Whoever was on the other end of that phone call had the power to leave her looking utterly defeated.

Coming up silently behind her, he draped the robe over her shoulders.  She hastily wiped at her face before wrapping the robe around herself without bothering to slip her arms into the sleeves.  Lachlan rested a hand on her shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

“Everything alright?” he asked, slipping into the kitchen chair opposite hers.

She nodded tiredly.  Her eyes stayed glued on her hands, which were currently clasped in her lap.  “I need to pick my roommate up from the bar,” she said.

Lachlan blinked.  That was it?  From her manner, he was sure that something terrible had happened.  So they probably wouldn’t be having sex again tonight.  He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed, but there would be other opportunities.  As long as he could sleep with her tucked sweetly into his side, he’d be satisfied.

“Do you want me to come with you, or would you rather I wait here?” he asked.

Belle’s hands fisted the fabric of her robe, and her face went curiously blank.  “I need to go alone,” she said quietly.  “And you can’t be here when I get back.”

Shock rendered Lachlan mute, his mouth flapping wordlessly.  After a solid thirty seconds, he managed to get one word out: “ Why ?”

She shook her head.  “Please don’t make me answer that.”

When she refused to elaborate further, his surprise very quickly turned to anger.  “Fine.  I’ll get out of your hair,” he snapped, shoving himself out of his chair.

“Lachlan…”

He ignored her, circling around her so he could get to his clothes in the bedroom.  Shoving his legs into his jeans, he cursed as his foot got stuck, making him lose his balance and pitch to the side.  One hand shot out and caught the wall, allowing him to regain his footing long enough to yank his jeans back up and shrug his shirt back on.  He fastened the buttons with fumbling fingers, and he was pretty sure he’d managed to mismatch the buttons to their holes.  Fuck it - he couldn’t be arsed to fix them.  Pausing only to grab his overnight bag, he turned to the door to see Belle standing at the threshold.  Her hands still clutched the lapels of her robe closed over her front, and she was gnawing at her lower lip hard enough to hurt.

“Lachlan.”  Her shoulders were still hunched, her head lowered like a kicked dog, and that nervous, insecure look was back in her eyes.  Anger burned in his belly like tar - hot, black and roiling - at the sight.  It pissed him off that she was unceremoniously kicking him out of her flat.  He hated that she refused to give him any sort of explanation.  But more than anything, he fucking loathed whatever made her shrink in on herself like that.  Maybe it was this “roommate” of hers.  Maybe it was him.  If she wouldn’t talk to him, he’d never know.  “Lachlan, don’t be like this.”

He strode to the door, relieved when she stepped aside to let him pass.  He might be seething, but he wasn’t such an arsehole that he’d shove her out of his way.  He packed up his CDs without a word, dumping them carelessly into his bag.  Slinging the bag over one shoulder, he prepared to leave.

“Would you please just talk to me?” Belle cried.

He stopped, hand resting on the doorknob.  “Will you tell me why you’re sending me packing?” he asked without turning.

She said nothing.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about.”  He opened the door and stepped through, careful not to slam the door behind him - no matter how much he wanted to.  

As he stalked down the hallway toward the stairwell, he heard one word clearly even through the walls.

“ FUCK! ”

******

Sucking on her front teeth, Belle stared straight ahead at nothing as Lacey opened the passenger door.  Her fingers maintained a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel to hide their infuriated trembling.  Instead of sitting in the front, her sister tilted the seat forward so she could settle in the back.  Typical.

“Seat belt,” she reminded.

“Yeah, yeah, mum , I know t’  put on my seat belt,” Lacey snarked back.

Belle steadied herself with deep breaths.  Now was not the time to stoop to Lacey’s level and get into an argument.  No matter how much she wanted to.  She pulled out of the pub’s parking lot and drove in silence.  After a minute, Lacey spoke up.

“Turn th’ radio on.”

“No.  We’ll be home soon.”

A huff, and another minute of silence.  Then, “So howwuz yer date?”

The urge to pull the car over, turn around, and slap her sister in the face was overwhelming.  “Ruined.  Thanks for asking.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lacey scoffed.  “It’s two in th’ bloody morning.  Doubt I was interruptin’ anything more excitin’ than yer snorin’.”  She made a show of stretching and yawning with a loud groan.  “You gonna see ‘im again?”

“Maybe.”  She still wanted to.  Oh, how she wanted to.  Tonight had been possibly the best night of her life before it had been ruined.  There had to be some way to fix what had gone wrong between her and Lachlan.

“Tha’s a yes.  So when do I get t’ meet ‘im?”

“Never.”  

A glance into the rearview mirror showed Lacey’s scowl.  “Oh god, ‘re you still on that?  It was eight years ago, and I ap… apolllll… I said I was sorry!”

“You apologized the previous three times, too.  Doesn’t mean much when you keep doing it.”

“Whatever,” Lacey huffed.  “Not like th’ last few guys you dated were winners.”

“Fuck you.”

Lacey gasped in mock affront.  “Why, Princess Belle, watch yer fuckin’ mouth!”

Belle cursed herself internally as she pulled into the parking lot.  Don’t let her get to you.  You know better than to give her any ammo.   “For the millionth time, stop calling me that.”

“Maybe you should stop actin’ like that.”

Belle pulled into her parking spot, hitting the brakes with a bit more force than necessary and taking savage pleasure in her twin’s surprised yelp.  She unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out of the car.  “I’m going to bed.  I’m sure you can make it back up to the flat without help.”  Slamming the door behind her wasn’t productive, but it made her feel better.  So did stomping in the building, up the stairs, and into her flat.

When she got to her bedroom, she stopped short.  The sheets were still rumpled from taking Lachlan to her bed just a few hours ago.  God, they probably still smelled like him, too.  She couldn’t face that just now.  She’d wait out in the living room to make sure Lacey got in alright.  Then maybe she’d be ready.

When Lacey didn’t open the door after ten minutes, Belle started to worry.  She really shouldn’t have left Lacey alone like that.  No matter how horrible she could be, she didn’t deserve to get hurt.  Guiltily, she opened the door to go check on her, and heaved a sigh of relief.  Lacey was sitting in the hallway, back propped up against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of her.  

Donning her figurative Nurse Belle hat - not for the first time this week - Belle helped her sister to her feet.  It seemed that the last few drinks were still hitting her, because Belle didn’t so much help Lacey walk as drag her to the couch.  Taking one look at her sister’s dazed expression, Belle fetched the bucket.

While she was gone, Lacey had tried to take her shoes off, but her clumsy fingers couldn’t navigate the clasps.  Belle knelt at her feet and took the shoes off, eyeing a new scuff on the toe of the left one ruefully.  Maybe it could be buffed out.  Later.  

“Sweetie?  How are you feeling?” she asked.  Lacey moaned and shook her head.  “Think you can drink some water for me?”  When Lacey’s shoulder jerked in what might have been a shrug, Belle went to the kitchen to fetch a glass.  The sound of retching brought her running back.  “No, no, no, Lacey, use the—”  Too late.  Belle shoved Lacey’s head into the bucket, using her free hand to hold her hair back out of the mess.

At least she’d had the presence of mind to lean over the side of the couch.  Cleaning up the hardwood would be much quicker than scrubbing the carpet.

Once the worst of the illness passed, Belle laid her sister down on her side.  Coaxing her to nibble and sip at crackers and water with gentle praise, Belle left Lacey just long enough to rinse out the bucket and bring it back.  She quickly placed it back near Lacey’s head in case it was needed again, then mopped up the puddle of sick from the floor.  Perching on the couch, she gently stroked the hair out of her sister’s face in the way Mum had always done when they were young.

“Sissy?” Lacey whimpered.

Belle swallowed against the ache in her throat that threatened to choke her.  Apart from bad nights like this, Lacey hadn’t called her that since they were twelve.  “Yeah, Lacey?”

“I miss Mum.”

A single sob escaped Belle’s lips, and she shoved the rest down ruthlessly. Now was not the time to cry.  Lacey needed her to be strong.  She was the big sister; it was her job to be the rock of the family.  She could cry later.  

A small part of her wondered if later would ever come.

“I do too, sweetie,” she murmured.

“Yer not her,” her twin mumbled.

Oh, that hurt.  After close to two decades of being at odds, Belle had thought that nothing Lacey could say had the power to get under her skin.  How wrong she’d been.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Well don’t bother,” Lacey grumped.  “Can’t replace her.  Can’t…”  She trailed off, and soon her breathing evened out into sleep.

Belle’s breath came in shuddering gasps as she struggled desperately against the tears that wanted to fall.  This entire night had been so emotionally overwhelming: kissing Lachlan, making love with him, sending him away and facing his justifiable anger, bickering and taking care of her sister…. She felt raw, exposed, and so vulnerable.  If she started crying about tonight, it would be so easy to cry about the last eighteen years.  She was afraid that once the tears started falling, they might never stop.

Hurrying to the bathroom, she flipped on the light and stared into her reflection in the mirror.  The sight that greeted her was hardly encouraging.  Downturned lips trembling and red, eyebrows drawn down, fat teardrops poised to overflow from her eyelids and splash onto her cheeks.  Time to push it all away. School her face to blankness.  If she couldn’t see her sadness, maybe she’d stop feeling it.

She focused on one thing at a time.  Slow the breathing.  Relax her mouth.  Massage the tenseness from her cheeks.  Draw her brows back to a neutral position.  By the time her eyes adopted a dull, lifeless expression, she felt more in control of herself.  Still not ready to face what was next, but what choice did she have?

Her reluctant steps took her back to the bedroom.  Stripping out of her now wrinkled dress, she changed into a cozy set of pajamas and climbed into her lonely bed.  Sure enough, the scent of Lachlan’s sweat and aftershave surrounded her.  What should have been a comforting smell instead sent a pang of despondency through her.  A quick check of her phone showed no new calls or messages.  She hadn’t really expected him to reach out - not at four in the morning, and not when he was angry with her - but she’d hoped.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that stung them, she curled up around the pillow that still held the fragrance of his shampoo, holding it close to her chest.

Maybe things would be better tomorrow.

******

It had been a long two and a half days.

Lachlan collapsed into his computer chair with a gusty sigh, a drink in one hand, his face in the other.  He had to pace himself.  He had half a bottle to get him through to Friday, and no money to buy another.  The handful of bills left in his wallet would be just enough to keep him fed until payday.  

Every time Belle’s face appeared in his mind, he had the simultaneous urges to take a drink, and dump his bottle down the drain and just deal with the eventual shaking and nausea.  So far, the former kept winning out; there was a simmering fire of anger and hurt in his belly that demanded to be quenched.  Alcohol probably wasn’t the key to putting out that fire, but he wasn’t exactly brimming with ideas.

Yesterday was the first time he’d ever skipped visiting her at the library, and the knowledge still stung.  He’d almost left the sickening, stifling walls of his apartment multiple times to go see her, stopping himself every time.  At this point, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see her.  He wasn’t sure she’d want to see him, either.

He’d acted like a right prat Saturday night (or early Sunday morning - whatever).  He knew that.  He had a temper that tended to run away from him when he felt slighted.  Maybe if he’d been more understanding, things would have gone differently, somehow.

But Belle wasn’t blameless, either.  What was she hiding from him?  He tried to look at things as objectively as he could, and it didn’t look good.  He knew that she lived with someone.  He was pretty sure she’d said her roommate was a woman, but he’d been drunk at the time.  Maybe his brain filled in the blanks with what he wanted to hear.

The fact was, he didn’t know anything about the roommate apart from their taste in music, and that Belle picked them up from the bar often.  He didn’t know their name, or what they looked like, or what their relation was to Belle.  She always called them her roommate, but judging by her reaction to Saturday night’s phone call, there was more there than she was letting on.  You didn’t just drop everything to pick someone up at a bar after begging for a reprieve unless there was some sort of relationship there.

With what little information he had, he could only come to one conclusion: Belle was living with a boyfriend (or girlfriend), and was cheating with Lachlan.  The idea was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

He couldn’t believe it.  It just didn’t add up.  Sweet Belle French, the librarian with the kind smiles and romantic heart?  The compassionate woman who opened her arms and her home to a drunk, washed-up pop rocker with nothing to offer?  He simply couldn’t reconcile that with a woman who would use him to cheat, and then throw him out of her apartment.  But what else was he supposed to think when she wouldn’t talk to him?

His computer blooped, warning him that Arianwen was logging in for their weekly chat.  He quickly drained his glass and hid it from the camera’s view just before his daughter’s face popped up on his screen.  

“Hey there, sweetheart.  How are you?”

She beamed back at him.  “Doing great!  I’m really starting to get the hang of my job.  My coworkers are really nice, and most of the regulars are patient while I learn their orders.”

“Only most, eh?”

“Well… a few of the older regulars asked me for impossible orders, and then yelled at me when I couldn’t do it.”  She hunched her shoulders with a wince - a gesture that reminded Lachlan too much of Belle’s posture after her roommate’s call.  He pushed the thought from his mind as she continued.  “My boss said that they do that to all new hires, though, so I didn’t get in trouble.  But never mind that - how are things with you?  Have you started studying for your high school equivalency yet?”

Fuck.  He’d completely forgotten mentioning that last time.  Right now studying was the absolute last thing on his to-do list.  But after how excited she’d been for him last week, he couldn’t bring himself to say so.  “I haven’t started just yet.  I’m still adjusting to my new job.  Maybe next week.”  It wasn’t technically a lie.  Maybe he really would start next week.  He probably wouldn’t, but that was beside the point.

“Oh.  That’s okay.”  She frowned at the camera, leaning a little bit closer.  “Are you okay?” she asked suddenly.

Shit.  Could she tell he’d been drinking?  Was he that obvious?  He forced his face into a smile that probably looked about as convincing as it felt.  “Of course, sweetheart, why?”

She shrugged, fiddling with the frayed edge of her oversized pajama shirt.  “You just seem, I dunno.  Sad.”

He chuckled with a rueful quirk of his lips.  Trust his daughter to pick up on his moods so easily.  She was really something else.  “Just had a… misunderstanding with someone this weekend,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “Nothing to worry about.”

"Oh.”  She hesitated, opened her mouth as if to say something, and closed it again.

“What is it?”

“Um… was it a girl?” she asked.

A warm glow of pride suffused his chest, overshadowing the pang at the reminder of Belle.  She was so damn perceptive.  She must have gotten that from Catherine.  She’d always been able to read his moods, and root out the cause in moments.  Used to drive him stark raving.  “Aye, a girl.  Or, woman, I guess.  Remember the librarian I mentioned last week?  The one who talked to me about going for my diploma?”

“I knew it!” Arianwen cried with a gleeful clap of her hands.  “So what happened?”

“Ah…” he hedged.  His love life wasn’t so desperate that he needed to vent to a teenager.  But his relationship with his daughter was in dire enough straits that he couldn’t begrudge her this.  Still, he’d keep it vague.  “Let’s just say that there was something she felt she had to do, and I didn’t like it.  I got angry and left, and we haven’t spoken since.”

“Why not?”

“Because--”  He paused.  Why weren’t they speaking?  Why had he avoided her yesterday?  Because he was angry with her, or she was angry with him?  That was bollocks.  Staying away wasn’t solving anything.  If he talked to her, they could straighten out this whole mess.  He’d give her a chance to explain.  Surely she’d have a good explanation for what had happened on Saturday.

And if it turned out that his fears were right… well, knowing that would still be better than the agony of this limbo he found himself in.

“Because I’ve got my head too far up my arse to see the obvious solution,” he admitted.  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”  He shook his head at her in wonder.  “How did you do that?  Get me to figure out what to do so quickly?  Probably would’ve taken me days to get there by myself.”

“It’s something my therapist does sometimes,” she admitted with an embarrassed shrug.  “When I’m upset and the thoughts get sort of tangled in my head, she just asks questions until I realize what the problem is.  Once I know that, it’s easier to figure out what to do.”

Huh.  He’d always thought that shrinks were overpaid quacks who invented problems in their client’s heads to keep the steady paychecks coming.  Seemed like Arianwen’s therapist, at least, might be good for her.  Maybe her mother’s involvement of a therapist in her life wasn’t such a hare-brained idea, after all.

******

It was twenty minutes to closing on Wednesday, and the library was silent as a grave.  Nobody had passed through the doors in the past hour, and Belle had long since finished up her closing duties.  All that was left was to wait out the clock until she could lock up.  She currently had her nose buried in a book to pass the time.

To her surprise, the door swung open and someone came in.  She looked up from her book with a greeting ready for whomever needed a book at this late hour.  The words stuttered to a halt on her tongue.  “Lachlan,” she said, heart in her throat.

He looked about as good as she’d felt these past three days.  Pallor washed out his normally tan skin, and the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than she’d ever seen them.  His features were drawn and careworn beneath a few days of accumulated scruff.  

Dread and elation warred within her, neither willing to give ground to the other.  She’d missed him dreadfully since he’d stormed out of her apartment.  When he’d failed to come see her on Monday, it had taken all of her fortitude to keep her worry and heartache from bleeding into her work.  Even Mrs. Campbell had noticed, silently offering her a comforting cup of tea when nobody was looking.  

But he was here now.  Did this mean he wasn’t angry with her anymore?  Or had he decided to come here to end things?

“Belle.”  He swallowed, his fingers toying with the links of his silver bracelet.  “We need to talk.  About - about Saturday.”

She eyed him warily.  He was probably right, of course. Things had gotten twisted and knotted between them, things that needed to be brought out into the open.  But there were things she couldn’t tell him just now.  She couldn’t open herself to that kind of hurt.  Not again.  “Okay,” she said.  

He scrubbed at his face tiredly with one hand and sighed.  His breath carried the faint astringent scent of whisky. “Why don’t you want me to meet your roommate?” he asked without preamble.

Of course he’d hit the issue right on the head.  “That’s not it,” she said weakly, her heart pounding.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, his accent thickening slightly in his anger.  He bristled with jittery energy - lips pulled back in a grimace, hands gesticulating agitatedly.  “You donnae jump a man’s bones an’ then kick him out of your flat like that unless ye need to get rid of ‘im quick.”  He paused, looking to Belle for an answer.  She didn’t have one to offer.  He nodded as though her silence confirmed something.  “So I've been thinkin’ since Sunday, an’ I came up with two reasons ye might not want me around yer roommate.  So first things first: are ye ashamed of me?”

Belle gaped at him, stunned.  How could he possibly think that of her?  Hadn’t she made her feelings for him clear?  They’d nearly kissed over the very desk that now stood like a vast gulf between them.  “ What ?  Why would you say that?”

“Oh, come on, then,” he spat, cheeks reddening.  “A middle-aged cock-up like me?  A drunk, high school dropout, no friends or family, cannae even afford to take a girl on a date?  I’m sure you’re just dyin’ to introduce me to your mates.”

“I never saw you that way,” she insisted.  

He scoffed.  “Pull the other one.”

“I mean it.”  He hesitated, then, his eyes softening uncertainly, and Belle pressed her advantage.  “I see a man who’s made... unconventional decisions in life.  Someone who sacrificed security for art and adventure, and got to have experiences most people only dream of.”  She laid her hand, palm up, on the desk in a clear invitation.  He stared at it, the firm line of his mouth slackening, but didn’t take it.  “I see a man who’s been hurt, somehow, but still tries to do better.  He just… needs a hand to help him back to his feet.”

Whatever she’d said, it was apparently exactly the wrong thing.  “Is that what this was all about?” he demanded.  “Pity?”

He should have just slapped her in the face; that probably would have hurt less.  “Is that really what you think of me?” she asked quietly, not bothering to mask the pain in her voice.  “That I take a man to my bed like I’m some sort of charity?”

The anger seemed to drain out of him, then, but left frenetic desperation in its wake.  “Well, what the hell else am I supposed to think?”  He shoved his fingers through his hair, yanking it back from his face.  “I’m trying to understand, Belle.  Fuck me, but I’m trying. But you won’t talk to me!”

“I’m talking to you now!”

“But not giving me any answers,” he insisted.  “All I know for sure is that you live with someone, and you’re going out of your way to keep us apart.  So either you’re ashamed to be seen with me, or you’re a hell of a lot more involved with your ‘roommate’ than you let on.”

Rocking on her heels, Belle braced her hands on the desk to steady herself.  She felt like she’d just been punched in the gut.  “What, exactly, are you implying?” she ground out.

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying.  So prove me wrong.”  He stared into her eyes challengingly.  “Let me meet them.  Or hell, show me a picture.  Tell me their name.  Just give me something.”

The urge to slap him in the face was absolutely overwhelming.  She dug her nails into the meat of her thumb as deeply as they’d go to resist the urge.  “You don’t get to accuse me of sleeping around - twice! - and then make demands,” she bit out.  

“But—“

“Get.  Out.”

He stared at her for a long moment, nostrils flaring, lips compressed in a thin line.  “Fine.  I don’t fucking need this anyway.”

Belle watched Lachlan storm out of the library, the second time in a row she’d thrown him out and saw the back of him set in a hard, unyielding line.  How dare he?  How dare he cheapen what had been growing between them into something shameful?  She had shown him nothing but patience and kindness.  Why couldn’t he allow her this one thing?

Perversely, a not-so-small part of her wanted to run after him.  Apologize, and tell him everything.  Wrap herself in his arms and kiss him until all thoughts fled and there was nothing but the two of them.  

With a snort of disgust, she closed up the library - switching the lights off, shutting down the computers, and closing the doors behind her.  She needn’t have bothered hiding him from Lacey, she reflected as her key turned the lock.  This time, they’d managed to ruin things all on their own.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

“ how the hell did this happen? ” - starker

Fire, Burning Me Up

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M) Notes: For some reason, my brain went to this - hope you don’t mind!  Word Count: ~2k Summary:

Peter is transfixed by the man at the bar - a firefighter with a trimmed goatee and the most gorgeous eyes. What he expects to be something fun turns into something that could easily turn into forever. 

do the thing, send in all the prompts

The first time Peter saw him, he was out for drinks with Ned and MJ – they’d been balls deep in thesis research for the last ten days, getting out of the dimly lit lab and behind the wood of a bar absolutely needed to happen. He just didn’t expect that night to change the rest of his life like it did.

Peter liked to let the image of the man he’d come to know as Tony sit in the front of his mind, like a picture in a wallet or sitting on his desk in a frame. The NYFD on the back of his shirt was the first thing to draw him in. In all of his adult life, Peter hadn’t encountered a firefighter before. May’s cooking was dismal, and the local Queens department knew her by name, but he hadn’t had any unfortunate accidents like that since moving out and starting his schooling at TISCH; and that was 6 years ago.

He was sitting next to a beefy blonde man who was in the same shirt – the firehouse numbers on the side of their sleeves matched, too. There were a couple of empty stools next to them, but drinks rested in front of them waiting for their owners to return. Peter watched the two men closely, the obvious familiarity between them much like him and the two goons getting sloppy at their table. His breath caught when Tony turned to look at him. He could’ve gotten lost in the cognac color of his eyes; they were warm and staring at him intently.

Already too deep into the staring contest to look away, Peter flashed him a smile. In the times they’d talked about it since then, Tony told him it looked shy on his end, but he remembered feeling confident, happy to have caught his attention. Tony didn’t hesitate to smile back, either. The side of his mouth crinkled when he did, the well taken care of goatee framing the look on his face spectacularly. He mouthed ‘hi’ at Peter and shook his own beer bottle, his eyebrows raising.

Looking down at the last sip of his beer, Peter picked it up and downed it. He watched Tony chuckle and turn to flag down the bartender. For a few seconds, Peter forgot he was with his friends – MJ’s voice stopped him as he got out of his chair with the clear determination to head across the bar. “Where you off to, Petey?” He caught her eye and saw the sarcasm swimming there – in all the time he’d known her, MJ lived to give him shit.

“There’s a firefighter at the bar that’s making eyes at me. I’m going to go see what all the fuss is about.” Nodding his head at her, Peter turned back around, his long legs carrying him over to the bar dizzyingly quick. The seat next to Tony was vacant, the tall blonde now hovering over by the pool tables across the room.

It probably should’ve felt weird, sitting down next to a total stranger – but it didn’t. Tony turned towards him with a smile, his eyes gleaming in the fluorescent light. “Hey – I’m Tony.” It was simple and wholesome and the hand that Peter grasped a second later was rough and fit so nicely against his palm.

Peter switched to something a little lighter so he could absorb everything about Tony – they spent the rest of the night talking about his Interactive Telecommunications degree and where he wanted to take it after graduation in a couple of months. Tony told him about the fire station that he manned as the acting chief – he kept a smile on his face the entire time he recalled the men that worked with him and the adventures they’d been on. 

Some of them made Peter cringe with a terrible sort of discomfort – but, they were interesting and made Tony even more badass than he initially thought.

The biggest shocker of the night came when Tony mentioned a 5-year-old daughter. He’d been married briefly before deciding that hiding in the closest wasn’t worth all the heartache he’d caused. His ex-wife kept Amelia during Tony’s nights on shift, and the rest of the time was spent with Tony, learning and getting into as much trouble as possible. 

A piece of his mind was jumping up and down, trying to signal the need to get out while he still could. Peter wasn’t keen on that, though – Tony caught his attention; that was so much more than anyone else in his life over the last few years.

Over another 3 drinks, Peter got to know more and more about the fire engine driver turned team lead – he had a degree in Mechanical Engineering and originally got into firefighting just to work on the trucks. Every new piece of him made Peter wanted to know more, so when Tony asked him for his number a couple of hours later, he didn’t hesitate to give it to him.

They had a date planned before Peter walked back to his apartment with the friends he eventually caught up to. The smile on his face gave him away – he spent the rest of the early morning telling MJ about Tony; she grinned at him the entire time he talked.

“You’ve got it bad, Cupcake,” MJ stated plainly, her arm wrapping around his shoulder when he didn’t deny it. The blush on his face was answer enough, anyway.

Actually dating Tony Stark was even more interesting the man himself. He kept the weirdest hours, because of the many chaotic days he was used to at the station. It took a while for Peter to adjust to the requests to meet Tony in the weirdest places, but he did for the sake of the precious human who wanted his attention. The very first time he met Amelia, Tony texted him to meet him at the grocery store – he had a few hours to spare and wanted to have Peter there for them.

The little girl didn’t bat and eye – she held out her hand the same way her father did when Peter first sat down next to him. “I’m Amelia,” she said simply, the 5-year-old way more articulate than Peter was at that age.

“Hey Amelia, I’m Peter.” He gave her small hand the briefest of squeezes before letting go, a beaming smile slipping across his face. She looked so much like Tony; it was kind of eerie.

She nodded her head at him, her own lips tilting up into a grin. “I know. Daddy spent the last half an hour telling me all about you. You do cool things with art, right?” Tony looked at her with narrowed eyes when she threw him under the bus – she laughed and shrugged; the man’s own gesture being used against him. “Well, it’s true.”

Peter wanted to throw his arms around the two of them – he didn’t know that he could like Tony any more than he already did, but he was constantly being proven wrong. He looked between them before answering, his arms seriously itching for a group hug. “I’m not mad about that. It’s kind of cute,” he said, looking up at Tony with a quick wink. “That is me, though. I’m currently doing research with Virtual Reality creation and usage.”

How quickly he bonded with Amelia amazed him – it was even more seamless than his connection with Tony. The girl was smart and curious; she asked why constantly and wanted to know how everything worked. Sometimes, Peter would head over to the Stark household just to hang out with Amelia; Tony’s schedule was perfect for random drop-ins that turned into hours watching the girl while his boyfriend ran into work because of some crisis or another.

During one of the many times that happened, Amelia had the idea to make cupcakes. She talked him into downloading the Pintrest app and searching for the most complex ones that she could find. The smile that passed across her lips when she realized he would be helping her making rainbow unicorn cupcakes made it worth it – no matter how much he would wholeheartedly deny it.

Tony didn’t do a lot of cooking, so they had to wait for a grocery delivery to get to the house. While they did, Amelia told him about all of the unicorns they would be making and the names she picked out for each of them. Peter sincerely hoped they’d be able to make something at least edible – the thought of her crippling disappointment almost enough to make him back out at the last minute.

Always one to keep his promise, Peter shook his head and found some resolve – they were cupcakes, how bad could it really be? When the doorbell rang, Peter set Amelia up with some crayons at the table and went to grab the bags from the delivery guy. He gave him a good tip for all of the help and carried their loot back to the kitchen.

Luckily, Amelia was still young enough to not know the difference between from scratch and out of the box – Peter poured the white cake mix into the bowl before she could even question it. They cracked a couple of eggs and added the oil and water – she used both hands on the whisk to combine the mixture. Peter might’ve got a video of it, but he knew better than to tell her that. When she deemed it mixed enough, they separated it into a couple of Ziploc bags and added the different shades of food coloring to try and mimic the colors from the recipe.

They weren’t quite the same, but she didn’t seem to mind to much.

Distracted by the need to get the frosting out and into a bowl so they could get it ready to get it on the cupcakes, Peter set the oven way hotter than necessary. It didn’t even occur to him to check – Amelia was demanding that they get the colors spot on this time around.

By the time that Peter noticed the fire, the oven was steaming black smoke and the detectors in the house whirred with loud pitched sounds. Amelia covered her ears and ran to the pantry. She threw open the door and started gesturing wildly. 

Knowing that’s where they kept the fire extinguisher, Peter ran over and grabbed it. “Get out of the kitchen, Ames. Go call your dad and tell him I’m an idiot.” She quirked a brow at him but was quick to comply. Being the child of a fire chief meant that she knew how to get ahold of her father and 911.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as he figured by the billowing smoke flying out of the oven as he sprayed the foam over it. All of the cupcakes were totally charred, but the entire oven wasn’t up in flames – so he counted that as a win. When he could think clearly, he called out to Amelia – her feet on the tile floor sounding immediately, the little girl flying into his arms before he knew it. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her arms around his neck. “I’m fine – Dad sounded a little grumpy on the phone. He’s on his way, though.” Her lips grazed his cheek, like the consolation of her affection would be enough to smooth the entire situation over. He kept her in his arms until Tony walked in the back door, a panicked look on his face.

Amelia got down and ran over to Tony – he leaned over to grab her without a second thought. “How the hell did this happen?” Tony questioned; his eyes wide as he took in the mess of the oven. “If you were trying to burn the cupcakes, you totally succeeded.” The words were meant to soothe the blow, his attempt at a smile making Peter laugh.

“We were trying to make rainbow unicorn cupcakes. I got so caught up on making the icing perfect that I… forgot them. The smoke was black, so they were really burnt. I’m sorry,” Peter muttered, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. He’d been pretty stupid, putting someone else’s daughter in danger the way he did.

Yet, when Tony and Amelia’s arms came around him, he was enveloped in the sort of hug that suggested relief for his sake as well. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Tony whispered, his lips pressing against Peter’s ear.

The gagging sound Amelia made had Peter pressing in, giving her a sloppy kiss right in the middle of her forehead.

Peter didn’t expect a family to come out of chatting with a cute guy at a bar, but now that he had it, he sure as fuck wasn’t letting it go.