#I WANT THE LAST THREE MONTHS OF BINGING BACK

[chrissdollie]

i just finished dexter and wow i’m soo pissed off i hate everything

[damnprecious]

me: wants to consume new content also me: can't consume new content

[flowersforbucky]

sweetener

bucky barnes x reader

summary: when the vacation that you've been planning for months gets canceled due to a last minute mission, you can't help but feel bummed - the bright side is that you're being sent on a mission with bucky.

word count: 5.3k - my masterlist

warnings/tags: canon level violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of blood, almost drowning, hospital setting, bad guys getting killed (not descriptive), non-sexual nudity, hurt/comfort trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, language, reader pov, no use of y/n, fem reader, bucky being super soft, not explicit but mdni please

when life deals us cards

make everything taste like it is salt

then you come through like the sweetener you are

to bring the bitter taste to a halt

Hand warmers. Flashlight and extra batteries. Can opener. Matches. First aid kit –

You glance down the handwritten list for the dozenth time that morning, checking and rechecking that you aren't forgetting anything obvious.

Your eyes flicker between the ridiculous amount of supplies scattered across your bed and the three large duffle bags on your floor that you're determined to pack it all into. You know that you are most likely being excessive, but you'd much rather be too thorough than not thorough enough when you're about to be miles deep in the Appalachian wilderness.

Sure, you'd be staying at a relatively civilized campground with restrooms and showers, but this is the first time that you've been camping in years, and your first time ever going camping alone.

A two day road trip there, then six days in the Great Smoky Mountains, and then another two day road trip back to upstate New York.

A much needed ten days of time spent by yourself, seeing as how you haven't gone on anything resembling a vacation in over two years. The last couple years have been nonstop work with very little time for relaxation.

To say that you're excited would be an understatement. Although you find immense fulfillment in the work that you do with the Avengers and can't see yourself doing anything else, you're ready to sit by a warm fire and sleep under the stars without a care in the world.

Just as you've finished packing the second bag and are about to begin on the third, the Bluetooth speaker that your cell phone is paired to begins blasting your ringtone, cutting off the music that you'd been listening to while you pack.

When you grab the phone off of your nightstand and see the name Nick Fury displayed across the screen, a ball of unease immediately forms in the pit of your stomach.

Nick Fury isn't the type to call and chit chat about how your day is going or what shows you've been binge watching. He's the type to call when he wants something done, and wants it done now.

“Hey, Fury,” you greet in a neutral tone as you perch on the edge of your bed. With the phone still connected to your speaker, you place it back down on the nightstand so that you are free to wring your hands together.

“Agent,” Fury's voice booms throughout your room. “I hope I've caught you before you've left the state of New York.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Uh - yep. I'm still here. Packing up for my trip right now,” you answer, trying your hardest to conceal the irritation in your voice. There's a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you should just lie and say you are already on the road, but you're not stupid enough to lie to Nick Fury.

There's a second, louder voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you shouldn’t have even answered the phone.

“You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm going to suggest you pack a tactical suit and weapon of choice instead of hiking boots and a sleeping bag. We just got word that a vibranium weapons dealer we've been tracking will be receiving a large shipment at a port in Destin tomorrow night. Need you and Barnes on a flight to Florida this afternoon.”

“Florida?” you repeat, unable to hide the shock and disappointment in your tone. “I can't go to Florida right now. I've been planning this trip for months. I put in the notice for my leave–”

“I realize that this is unfortunate timing but I'm afraid that this is non-negotiable, Agent,” he interrupts you in a tone of finality. “If we don't intercept this shipment then these weapons fall into very dangerous hands. With Romanoff and Rogers still in San Antonio until next week, I have no choice but to ask you and Barnes to handle it.”

You exhale an audible, frustrated breath and massage the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. You don't know why you're surprised. It's not like illegal arms dealers take your vacation time into consideration when they plot their dealings.

“Is that understood, Agent?” he asks when you don't respond.

“Yes,” you say as you dig your nails into the flesh of your palm to hold back any further argument. “Yes, I understand.”

“Great. The jet leaves in three hours.”

The line cuts off before you can get another word out.

You groan out loud. Three hours. That doesn't even leave you enough time to feel sorry for yourself.

You look around at the chaotic state of your room before your gaze lands on the already packed duffle bags filled with camping supplies.

You're too annoyed and short on time to care right now, so you empty the contents of both bags back onto your bed and tell yourself that you'll deal with the mess when you get back home. For now, you need to focus on packing the appropriate items for taking down a vibranium arms dealer in hotass Florida.

Beneath all of the disappointment and frustration, there's a glimmer of relief that at the very least it's Bucky who you're being sent on this unexpected mission with. You may not be fond of hot weather, but you are quite fond of him.

••••••

Just as Fury said, the jet departs from the compound at exactly three o'clock. You sit in the aircraft's cabin, reading through a thick file containing all of the information that SHIELD has compiled on Dmitri Petrov's crime empire, ranging from drug smuggling to illegal arms deals.

You are only a few pages into the report and it's abundantly clear why this mission was non-negotiable. Petrov has been getting away unscatched for years - tomorrow night will be the first clear opportunity for a take down since getting on SHIELD's radar.

“Coffee?” A voice snaps you back to reality, making you realize that you're reading the same sentence for the dozenth time. “Three creams, two sugars.”

You look up to find a vibranium hand holding out a disposable cup to you. If the fact that he's committed the way you take your coffee to memory isn't enough to increase your heart rate, his smirk and the crinkles around his blue eyes do the trick.

“Thank you,” you tell him, snapping the folder shut on the table in front of you. “My eyes are on the verge of bleeding.” You take a sip of the coffee - indeed, three creams and two sugars.

He takes the seat directly across from you, spinning the folder around for him to flip through himself.

“We land in less than half an hour and you've been reading this the entire flight,” he says teasingly as he thumbs through the pages. “I think it's safe to say you're prepared.”

He places the file back down, returning his attention to you.

“Just trying to get myself in the right headspace. I didn't know anything about this operation until a few hours ago, you know.”

Not one to complain, you had yet to bring up the fact that your trip had been postponed in order for you to be here. You had talked about the trip on several occasions with Bucky, but you didn't expect him to remember the exact dates that you were supposed to be gone.

Sure - if he was going to be away for over a week, you'd be hyper aware of it until he returned - but you weren't naive enough to think that he would know the exact dates of your comings and goings.

“I know,” he sighs, a sympathetic look on his face. “I was on my way to tell you to have a good trip and to be safe when I got the call from Fury this morning.”

Oh. Your cheeks heat at the casual admission from him.

“I'm sorry about your trip. I know you were really looking forward to it,” he adds sincerely. “I'm going to find extra enjoyment in putting Dmitri Petrov behind bars for causing it to get canceled.”

“You and me both,” you chuckle. “Really though, it's okay. I was bummed, but it's not the end of the world. It can easily be rescheduled once this guy is locked up and we're back home.”

You don't add the fact that you find yourself caring less and less about the canceled trip the longer that you sit here with him.

“There is at least one silver lining to this, you know,” he chimes, leaning forward with his elbows on the table between you. You instinctively lean in closer too, causing the side of your leg to brush against his beneath the table. You wait to see if he'll pull away, and when he doesn't, you leave the side of your thigh resting against his.

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?”

“Petrov’s shipment isn't set to arrive until tomorrow night, and they've sent us down here the day prior. It's not like we have to stay holed up in our hotel room for the next twenty-four hours, right?”

••••••

Bucky's right - there's no sense in locking yourselves inside the hotel room until the time of the weapons deal tomorrow evening, but when you see the hotel room that you'll be spending the next couple nights in, you think you would also be okay with staying inside if you had to.

It's not a five star resort by any means, but in comparison to the dingy roadside motels that you're normally stuck in for missions? This place might as well be a Four Seasons.

It's relatively small, but there's more than enough space for the two of you. There's one full size bed, plus a couch that converts to a futon mattress - the latter of which Bucky insists on taking, giving you the bed. The bathroom is nearly as big as the main room, with a jacuzzi tub that's bigger than three standard bathtubs put together.

And the best part of it? When you open the curtains to the sliding glass door on the backside of the room, there's a clear view of turquoise water and white sand.

“I guess Fury felt a little bad about springing this on me at the last minute, after all,” you sigh as you pull the door open, letting the light breeze pull the smell of saltwater into the room. “Can't say that I’ve been given a beachfront room for a mission before.”

Bucky walks up to stand beside you, leaning against the doorframe and staring out to the ocean.

“It's definitely a step up from the rat and roach infested Motel 6 that Sam and I had to spend three nights in when we were sent to Atlanta for recon last month.”

You shake your head, both cringing and laughing at the memory of him ranting about the motel room as soon as he saw you after returning home.

“It was the size of a fucking capybara. Why are you laughing? I opened the bathroom door and it charged at me–”

A sudden deep rumbling noise snaps you out of the memory and you glance down at your stomach in surprise. You suppose it makes sense that your body is screaming at you to eat - you had such little time to pack for Destin before your flight left that you hadn't even bothered with lunch today.

“How does pizza sound?” Bucky asks with a knowing smirk. “I saw a pizza place just down the street on the way here.”

“Anything sounds good right now,” you sigh, both starving and exhausted from your day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and traveling.

“I'll go grab one for us,” he tells you, pulling the keys to the rental car out of his pocket. “Just stay here and get settled in.”

You don't object, itching to change into comfier, more weather appropriate clothes. When you left the state of New York just a few hours ago, it was chilly outside. Now that you are in eighty plus degree Destin, the sweater and boots that you're wearing have got to go.

You unpack your bag, thankful that you had brought a pair of casual drawstring shorts. You throw them on, along with a tank top. You decide to go ahead and convert the futon from a sofa into a bed, and then search through the hotel room's small linen closet for a set of sheets and a quilt. If Bucky insists on you taking the comfier sleeping option and going to get food for the two of you, you figure the least you can do is make his bed for him.

When he returns, he not only has a large cardboard box containing the pizza, but a plastic bag hanging from his vibranium arm as well.

“Grab a towel and follow me,” he tells you before he's even closed the door behind him.

“Follow you?” You laugh, taken aback by the instructions. “Where are we going?”

You hop up from where you'd been mindlessly scrolling on your phone on the bed, doing as he asked and grabbing one of the complementary beach towels from the bathroom closet.

“Not staying holed up in our hotel room. Remember?”

And with that he pulls the sliding glass door open with his empty hand and exits the room, heading towards the beach that sits directly in the backyard. You don't even take the time to throw on a pair of tennis shoes before practically running after him through the sand.

He comes to a stop when he's a few yards away from where the waves wash up against shore and turns back to look at you. You take it as your cue to spread the towel across the sand at your feet.

He sits down and you follow, the cardboard box nestled between you. He opens it, revealing a pizza that is split down the middle - half your favorite, half his favorite.

“I know it's not a campfire in the Great Smoky Mountains,” he smirks. He digs into the plastic bag and pulls out a drink for each of you, along with some napkins. “But it's the best I could do in our current situation.”

The sentiment leaves you momentarily speechless. You know it isn't a grand declaration of love, and it might not mean as much to some people as it does to you - but you can't remember the last time someone went out of their way just to improve your day in such a simple yet thoughtful way.

Between the pizza, the vibrant pink and purple sky as the sun sinks beyond the ocean's horizon, the sound of the waves and him beside you, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.

“No,” you murmur. “It's not. But it's perfect.”

••••••

The next day, you manage to forget that you're actually on a super important mission taking down a dangerous illegal arms dealer.

The first half of the day feels like an actual vacation - the closest thing you've had to a vacation in a long time, anyway. You sleep in until nearly ten o'clock in the morning - which may not be considered sleeping in for some people, but in this line of work, you've overslept if you're still in bed at eight am.

After waking up thoroughly rested and refreshed, the two of you get brunch and then spend the early hours of the afternoon leisurely strolling at the boardwalk just a short drive from your hotel.

You and Bucky are sitting on a bench eating ice cream when you check your phone for the first time in hours and realize how quickly the day has gone. It's already four o'clock - you're due to be on lookout at the pier where Petrov's exchange will occur soon.

“What's wrong?” Bucky asks when you huff under your breath as you stick your phone back into your pocket. “Nervous about tonight?”

You're not nervous, truthfully. You're fully confident that you and Bucky will be able to handle the job. You've been on countless missions less straight forward than this before, and so has he.

“No,” you shake your head as you take another bite of your ice cream cone. “It's… silly,” you say, waving your hand in dismissal.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” he assures you gently.

You pause, staring at a couple holding hands in the distance as you contemplate your words.

Bucky seems to follow your gaze.

“Today has just been really nice,” you shrug with a small smile. “I almost don't want to go back home.”

From your peripheral vision, you see his face shift to look at you. You continue to eat your ice cream, pretending that his stare doesn't warm you more than the Florida sun.

“We're on the same page then, doll.”

••••••

A few hours later, a feeder ship pulls up to the pier just after dusk.

“We've got eyes on three men,” you say lowly into your communication device. “They're guarding the pier. No sign of Petrov yet.”

“He'll show,” Fury's voice echoes in your ear. “Keep watch until then. Backup is on standby to take him in.” The comm clicks off before you can respond.

“I know there's a lot riding on this going smoothly,” you grumble as you bring your binoculars back up to your eyes. “But sometimes I think he just really needs to get laid.”

You and Bucky are across the road from the pier, concealed by large shrubs and the darkness of the night sky. You've been sitting here as still and silently as possible for well over an hour, before Petrov's men had even arrived to stand guard at the dock.

You really fucking have to pee.

Headlights begin to approach from down the street, and as the vehicle gets closer you're able to see that it's a large, black van.

Totally not suspicious at all.

It comes to a stop close to the boat dock, and a second later Petrov hops out of the driver's seat. You recognize him right away by his shrimpy build and receding hairline.

“I should just take them all out from here and be done with this,” Bucky grumbles from beside you.

“I agree,” you sigh. “But Fury's adamant that Petrov be brought in alive if possible. He’s got an empire behind him that we need to find out as much as possible about. His men, however..” you trail off.

Bucky looks through the scope of his gun, zeroing in on one of the guards.

“Blow a tire on the van first,” you murmur. “So Petrov can't flee.”

“I'll take out these three guards, and then I'll get Petrov and call for back-up. You worry about getting to that ship and taking out anyone inside. Sound like a plan?”

“Easy peasy,” you agree.

Less than thirty seconds later, all three guards have dropped dead and Petrov is frantically running to his van, unaware that Bucky had shot the back tire after killing his guards. You and Bucky emerge from the shrubs, sprinting across the road. He dashes towards Petrov, who freezes and begins shouting curses in Russian when he sees what is running towards him.

Bucky lands a punch to Petrov's jaw as you're running past them, only slowing down enough to not trip over the guard’s dead bodies that are littered across the dock.

You're only a few yards away from the ship when you hear Bucky screech your name. You immediately come to a halt, turning back to see why he could be calling for you.

You see a tall, burly man - someone that you and Bucky hadn't noticed before - sprinting down the dock after you. He raises his arm above his head, his hand holding a rocklike object that he sends barreling in your direction.

It's the last thing you see before everything fades to black.

••••••

The shrill, repetitive beeping of a monitor pulls you out of limbo and back to earth.

You're met with painfully bright, fluorescent lighting that has you squinting your eyes shut before you can make sense of your surroundings.

“Bucky,” you attempt to call out but it sounds like the croak of a lifelong smoker. Your eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting, allowing you to see that you're alone in a hospital room. You raise your fingertips to where it feels as if your brain is pulsing through your skull. There's a thick, defined knot on the top of your head that's sensitive to the touch.

Panic starts to take over you. Bits and pieces of the mission start to flash through your mind. Bucky shooting the guards, you running towards the feeder ship when you heard Bucky yell your name and then turning to see –

“Bucky!” You call out louder, your voice still hoarse. You sit up, not hesitating to carelessly yank an IV out of your arm. You're vaguely aware of the fact that you're in only a hospital gown and that blood is now trickling down your left arm, but you don't care.

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up far too quickly. Your vision fades to a fuzzy gray and you're overcome with an intense wave of vertigo as the room spins around you. You grab onto the metal side railing of the hospital bed to keep yourself upright, desperately trying to focus your eyes enough to find the nurse's call button.

“Hi! I'll be to your room in just a moment–” An overly cheerful, feminine voice pours from the speaker a moment after pressing the button.

“What happened? How long have I been here? Where is my–”

The door to your room opens, and you immediately breathe an audible sigh of relief as your last question is answered. He looks as though he could use a good night's sleep, but he is okay.

“What the fuck happened?” Bucky exclaims as he rushes over to where you're still clutching the hospital bed railing for support. You follow his gaze to your arm, seeing that there's now blood all over your gown as well as the white floor around your feet.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mumble, embarrassed by your current state. He guides you back to the edge of the mattress before walking away to get a towel from the bathroom. “I was worried something happened to you,” you add weakly.

He wipes the blood trail on your skin before using the hand towel to apply pressure to the puncture in the bend of your arm.

“I'm okay,” he assures you delicately. “I had just gone to get some coffee.” He glances at the styrofoam to-go cup that you hadn't even noticed him place on the bedside table when he entered the room.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, noticing that it's still pitch dark outside. You also notice that he's no longer in the clothes that he wore on the mission - now wearing a pair of loose fitting black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. “What happened?”

“There was another guy in the back of Petrov’s van,” Bucky tenses, still holding the towel to your arm for you. “We were both distracted and he snuck up on you. He hit you over the head with a piece of vibranium and threw you into the water.” His jaw clenches as he recounts what happened, meeting your gaze with a pained look.

“But you saved me,” you finish for him.

“Yes,” he gulps. “I did. But I was almost too late. By the time I knocked out Petrov and killed the man who hit you.. it felt like it took forever to find you in the water. You almost drown–”

He cuts himself off, unable to force the last word out. A nurse enters the room as you open your mouth to offer him reassurance. Bucky holds your gaze for a split-second longer before reluctantly dropping his hold on your arm and turning to take a seat in the room's singular guest chair.

The nurse informs you that they did a CT scan while you were unconscious, and that while you don't have any swelling or bleeding on your brain from the blow, the doctor believes you to have a concussion and tells you that she will need to do an exam now that you are awake before they feel comfortable discharging you.

Judging by the high-pitched ringing that you've heard in your ears since you woke up and the way that you feel dizzy when you even think about trying to stand up, you don't doubt that you're concussed.

An hour later, you've been thoroughly examined and it is confirmed that yes - you are indeed concussed. The doctor discharges you under the condition that you don't drive and that someone keeps a close eye on you for the next twenty-four hours.

“Don't worry,” you hear Bucky tell her when you step into the bathroom to throw on a pair of dry sweatpants, a t-shirt, and cheap shower slides that the hospital had given you to wear back to the hotel, seeing as how your tactical suit and boots are still sopping wet with ocean water. “I'm not letting her out of my sight.”

The nurse who helps you dress gives you a small smirk at his words.

“You're a lucky woman,” she tells you quietly. “He was worried sick until you woke up.”

You avoid her gaze, your cheeks heating. You busy yourself by tightening the drawstrings to the gray sweatpants.

“I am lucky,” you agree. “He's a great partner.”

She raises an eyebrow at the word partner, but doesn't make any further comment.

By the time that you and Bucky make it back to your hotel room, the sun has started to rise.

Bucky all but carries you inside, only letting go of you when you're perched on the edge of the mattress. Your head is still throbbing despite the extra strength ibuprofen that you'd taken before leaving the hospital, and you still can't walk without stumbling from dizziness, but at least the intense ringing in your ears has begun to subside.

You feel tired down to your very bones, but you have no doubt that Bucky is even more exhausted. You'd been unconscious for nearly eight hours during the night, whereas he had been awake the entire time sitting by your bedside.

“You get some rest,” you tell him. You brace your hands against the mattress, preparing to attempt to stand back up. “I smell like a mixture of sweat and fish from being in the ocean, so I'm going to shower off.”

You push yourself off of the bed, and as quickly as you stand, you're sitting back down. The room immediately begins spinning in circles around you, sending a wave of nausea through the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, not likely,” Bucky huffs lightly. “You can't stand up, and the shower doesn't have a seat. How about we compromise on a bath?”

You give a weak nod, too tired to protest. A warm bath sounds incredible right now.

Bucky retreats to the bathroom, where he turns on the water to fill the tub before returning to help you get up from the bed without toppling over. He secures his flesh arm around your waist and guides you to the closed toilet, where you carefully sit down.

“Do you.. need help undressing? Or..?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you breathe with an awkward laugh. “I think I've got it.”

He gives you a quick nod, looking away to give you the privacy to shed your clothes. You carefully tug the oversized t-shirt the hospital had given you over your head, wincing when it brushes against the swollen knot on the side of your scalp. You rise off the lid of the toilet just enough to push your sweatpants down to your ankles.

“Okay,” you murmur, letting him know that you're ready to step into the tub.

He grabs one of your hands in his, and places his metal hand on the small of your back as you step over the side of the large jacuzzi tub and into the water.

Not that you don't trust your other teammates. But with Bucky, it doesn't feel vulnerable.

You're aware of the intimacy of the scenario, but you can't find it in yourself to feel insecure or embarrassed right now - you're sure that's largely due to the concussion, but you think it's also simply because of who you're with.

If it were Sam, or Steve, or anyone else, you know you'd be mortified to be utterly exposed as they help you take a bath. If it were anyone else you wouldn't be taking a bath right now - you would have just gone to sleep and waited until you could fully do it yourself instead of putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

He lowers you into the water, your entire body instantly relaxing at the warmth. You glance to his face, noticing a faint purple bruise along his cheekbone.

“I'm going to leave the door cracked. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Just let me know when you're ready to get out, okay?”

You don't respond, instead reaching up to his face, where you run your finger along the outline of the bruise. He freezes beneath your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Don't worry,” he assures you softly. “It was a lot worse when it first happened. It's already almost gone.”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “It happened because of me. I wasn't paying attention as well as I should have been. Should have heard that guy coming.”

“Don't say that.” He places his flesh hand on top of where yours still rests against his cheek and then brings it in front of his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. “You're okay, and that's the only thing that matters now.”

“Mmm,” you hum, staring at his lips that are no more than an inch away from your hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice patient and curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to the bruise in a featherlight kiss. You pull back, once more resting your back against the tub and giving him a small shrug.

“Just thinking that I wanted to do that. Have for a while.”

He grins, a faint blush taking over the apples of his cheeks.

“Yeah, I'd say you're definitely concussed.”

He then presses his lips to the side of your hand, causing goosebumps to form across your skin despite the warm water that you sit in.

You chuckle, your smile matching his. “I am,” you agree. “But the concussion will go away soon, and I'll still want to kiss you then, too.”

“I hope that you will do just that.”

••••••

One month later

You wake up to the smell of campfire smoke that creeps through the crack in the partially zipped tent.

Despite a thick sleeping bag, multiple blankets, and the plush sweater that you wear, you can't help but shiver.

Something is missing.

You look around the tent, your eyes adjusting to the early morning daylight that filters into the tent.

Someone is missing.

You reluctantly exit your cozy sleeping bag, shoving your wool sock covered feet into your boots and crawling out of the tent.

Bucky is facing away from you, cracking an egg into a pan that is positioned over the fire.

“Good morning,” you murmur as you creep up behind him, wrapping an arm around his midsection. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teases softly. “What's on the agenda today?”

“Maybe some hiking, maybe some biking,” you shrug into him. “Maybe a little bit of you keeping me warm in that tent.”

He laughs, more carefree than you've ever seen him before.

“See? It's a good thing that your trip got postponed. What if I wasn't here to keep you warm?”

You raise up to capture his lips in yours, the taste of fresh brewed French press coffee on his breath.

“Remind me to thank Fury for that when we get back.”

thank you so much for reading 💕🫶🏻 comments and reblogs are infinitely appreciated!!

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look. 

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.' 

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment. 

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark. 

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste. 

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?' 

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long. 

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head. 

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process. 

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster. 

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks- 

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan. 

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher. 

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him. 

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off. 

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one. 

well, maybe there was something to it after all. 

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves. 

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer. 

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone. 

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday. 

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it. 

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks. 

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first. 

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-' 

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended. 

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.' 

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment. 

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking. 

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before. 

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you? 

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher. 

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary. 

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists. 

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music. 

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different. 

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next. 

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face. 

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore. 

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’ 

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze. 

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

[haveagarbageday]

The joy of missing out \\ Lando Norris

summary: You and Lando celebrate your birthday on the same day. While he's planning a big party, you'd rather spend the night on your own. Not like he's gonna let that happen…

additional info: Alpine!driver!reader. Have you heard "The joy of missing out" by AleXa? No? That's what I was listening to while writing this.

This year you didn’t feel like celebrating your birthday. You just wanted to stay under the warm blanket, binge-watching your favorite comfort show and eating pizza all day.

You weren’t really on speaking terms with your family after a stupid argument at a family gathering last year, and your old friends believed you changed a lot since you joined F1, so they weren’t exactly keen to spend time with you either, especially after you relocated to Monaco like so many of the drivers did. This left you getting more and more comfortable with the idea of being alone, spending your limited free time in your apartment instead of attending parties you were invited to.

On the most recent race weekend though, Lando and Oscar caught you in the paddock and the three of you started chatting, soon being joined by other drivers, and the conversation shifted to Lando’s upcoming birthday. They were planning on partying together, even now they were talking about who would bring who, if they should spend the night at the same place, or move around, maybe heading to the place of one of them.

It was only after a good ten minutes that something dawned on Lando. “Wait, your birthday is on the same day,” he told you, the little light bulb above his head almost visible. “That’s great! You should invite your friends too!” The Brit got excited at the thought, but when he noticed you were just shaking your head, he could tell you would say no to the whole thing. “You’re not planning on missing out, are you?”

As you let out an annoyed groan, the others began to try and convince you, saying it was great that they could celebrate not one, but two birthdays that year, and you were like everyone’s little sister, you were practically family, so this party was mandatory for you. Last year you missed it because you were with your family and friends back home, spending time with them as you usually did when you had the time, but this year it was an open secret that you’d rather retreat into your shell after race weekends.

“Guys, I just… don’t feel like celebrating, that’s all. You all have fun, but you can count me out,” you told them, then said goodbye and decided to go back to the Alpine motorhome to be alone for a while.

Halfway there, you suddenly felt someone put an arm around your shoulder, making you come to a halt to see who it was. You were met by Lando’s shining eyes, the mischievous smile telling you he was here to try and convince you to join them. But instead of giving you a speech full of reasons why you should join them, he decided to start with something else, something a lot more personal.

“Look, I can tell something is wrong. What happened? Last year you spent so much time with your family, your friends, and even with us. Now? Now I can see you getting cozy at your place, ignoring everyone until it’s absolutely necessary to be around people. I’m worried,” he added, and the look in his eyes told you he was telling the truth.

“I’m fine, trust me.” But Lando didn’t buy it, he just rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow, expecting you to finally be honest with him. “My relationships are dying, because apparently, I changed too much since I’ve been here. Why bother?”

Without a proper warning, Lando pulled you into a hug, his chin resting on your shoulder while you relaxed in his arms. It surprised you, but didn’t feel all that bad, to be honest. You’d been craving physical contact for months now, after all. “The party wouldn’t be the same without you. And I was planning to do so much, like getting you to be stuck to me the whole night, dancing together, drinking together, maybe letting me kiss you,” he finished as he pulled back to look at you with a wolfish grin.

To kiss you? That’s what he wanted? It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought about this, because there were times when you wished he would do that, but you usually got rid of these thoughts quite fast. It would complicate things, and complication was something you didn’t need in your life now. But God, he was so handsome, and so cute, and so–

Your train of thought was interrupted when you felt his lips on yours, moving slowly to see how you would react, waiting for the opportunity to truly get lost in it. And when you kissed him back, he moved his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, moaning softly into the kiss. The world around you ceased to exist, and you just enjoyed the moment, completely forgetting that the paddock was full of people who wouldn’t hesitate to take photos of the two of you.

When he finally pulled away to breathe, you gulped and watched him with uncertainty. Was he just playing with you? Or was he serious about this? Oh, why couldn’t he see you as a sister like the rest of the drivers did?

“So, I believe you’re coming to the party,” he spoke up with a smile. “The birthday boy is dying to spend the evening kissing the birthday girl. Maybe even sneaking away to have some fun in private,” he added before giving you a quick kiss again.

“Have some fun in private?”

With a wide grin on his face, Lando leaned closer to whisper the answer in your ear. “I have a special surprise for you. You’ll love it,” he told you in a sultry voice that made you gulp.

Well, it was safe to say he was probably several steps ahead of you in this.

[kakushino]

Knot Enough

Werewolf! Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB! Reader

Giyuu is hit by an unanticipated rut.

Tags: smut, in heat/rut, pheromones acting as aphrodisiac, knotting [& creampie (obviously)], possessiveness Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

It was the start of an extended weekend - holiday on Thursday and you took Friday off - and you were happy to finally catch up on your anime binging. All was peaceful, you were in just your panties and an oversized shirt for comfort; you got through two episodes so far, you were stocked up on snacks and drinks, content to spend three days alone before your date with your new boyfriend, Giyuu.

You had met Giyuu through a friend of a friend and you hit it off very quickly. You just sort of… clicked together, like missing puzzle pieces, or soulmates or whatever. It was three months in, and you couldn’t be happier. You hadn’t yet passed the kissing stage, but Giyuu seemed a little shy, which was perfectly fine. It wasn’t as if either of you were uncontrollable horny teens.

You were in the middle of watching a mage and his apprentice acquire a grim familiar during a tension filled-scene when your doorbell rang. 

“Fuck-!” you were so into it, the noise nearly made you jump out of your skin. Pausing the episode and putting your snacks on the coffee table, you padded over to the front door. The peeking hole showed you your boyfriend with a troubled expression. Worried, you quickly opened it. “Giyuu?”

The sound of your voice snapped him from a trance and his fever-bright eyes met yours. A smile spread on his face and slight blush decorated his cheeks when he walked forward without asking to come in. Unusual.

“Is everything okay?” The door closed.

Your boyfriend didn’t respond, kicking off his shoes - another odd thing, he was a very neat person - and tugging you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. A shudder seemed to go through him the moment he took you in.

He spoke at last. “I know we’ve only just started dating,” he started in a low rasp. The sound of his voice so close to your ear sent goosebumps crawling across your whole body. “But my rut just arrived and I-” he cut himself off with a sharp exhale, his nose touching the side of your neck when he took a deep breath again.

You were beyond confused. “...rut? What do you mean?”

Giyuu’s arms wound even tighter around your form. It was a bad time to start explaining but he needed to, he needed you to understand and to act - to help him. “I’m not human.” 

You could only gasp. “What are you-?”

“I’m a wolf at times… and this wolf affects me even in human form. I need to-” he shuddered again, his lips gliding down your neck to where your shoulder met it. He licked the spot, trying to stem his hunger for you. “Please let me- let me fuck you,” he said in a breathy voice.

His desperation sent a flare of desire throughout your entire body. Your mind reeled with his admission. This whole scenario reminded you of the monster porn you read once or twice, but what did it mean for you? 

“Please,” he begged hoarsely, one of his hands pushing on the small of your back to press your belly against the bulge in his pants. 

Giyuu had never begged you before, he'd never expressed himself so boldly before. Just because of that, you were leaning towards giving in. 

It didn't help that he smelled so good.

"Okay." 

No sooner had that word left your lips, his own slotted against yours in a deep and desperate kiss that stole your breath away.

He backed you up against the wall, his hands holding your hips to grind against you and yours in his hair, the leather cord he used to tie it coming loose quickly as you lightly tugged on it. He released a sinful moan into the kiss, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

Giyuu guided you both to the bedroom - you later wondered how he knew which room it was - tugging at your oversized shirt, clearly wanting it off, an impossible feat without pulling back from the kiss.

Just when you thought he would give in and tear it in off, he actually did let you discard it peacefully.

Your panties did not receive the same tender care.

With a growl of "I'll buy you some later," he laid you onto the bed tucking himself between your legs. One of his arms supported his weight by your head, the fingers of the other impatiently delving into your pussy to prepare you as soon as possible. One, two, three digits stretched you out in a quick manner while all you could do was sigh and moan softly, your eyes locked onto each other as you quivered under his form, mind hazy.

Giyuu had wanted to take his time on your first night… before his rut hit him. Now, he just wanted to eat you alive.

“I want you,” Giyuu whispered breathlessly. “I need you.”

You nodded shakily, still trying to find your bearings from the stretch of your pussy on his fingers. He pulled them away, making you gasp at the emptiness, your muscles clenching around nothing as you heard his belt buckle open. 

The sound of it had never been so enticing before.

You blinked slowly and looked at him.

You weren’t a virgin, but you had never seen a cock like his - thick and long and so, so pretty, with a strange swelling around the middle. But a brief glance was all you could get before he was onto you, kissing you deeply, sloppily. He was in a daze, his eyes half-lidded.

“Lovie, gods, I need you-” 

Giyuu lined himself up against your entrance and slid in slowly, the stretch of his tip entering you feeling so much more than his three fingers, even if it didn’t seem like it. “F-fuck, slow- slow downngh-” 

He immediately stopped and pulled away from your face, eyes glistening with unshed tears, guilt and anguish clear in his expression. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking so wounded as if he were the one being speared open with a cock. 

You breathed through the burn, your hands cupping his cheeks gently. “Just go slower okay? I’m not- it’s just been a while,” you reassured him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “Please forgive me, lovie.”

Your thumbs caressed his face softly as you murmured, “You’re fine, Giyuu. You just need to go slow, okay? Can you do that for me?”

He closed his eyes, and hummed in agreement, sliding more of himself in slowly, as you’d told him to. He kissed you in an unhurried passion, enjoying you - your taste, your heat, your body against his. 

The burn wasn’t as bad this time, though as you threaded your fingers in his hair, you had to grip it tight when the swelled middle started to slide in. You broke away from him to breathe, clenching your eyes shut as Giyuu murmured apology after apology, peppering many soothing kisses all over your face and then-

Giyuu slipped in in his entirety, eliciting a deep groan from his throat. He’d swear later it was an accident, that he’d mean to just force his knot in faster so you wouldn't hurt so much, but he miscalculated how slippery you were. And Gods, your cunt was so snug around his cock, he could hardly breathe.

You could hardly breathe. So full. So hot. A fever spreading from your belly out to your fingertips - but not unpleasant. It felt good. The pain and burn faded instantly when you buried your face in Giyuu’s neck, breathing in the musky smell of his sweat. It made your mouth water and you couldn’t resist placing an open mouthed kiss on his pulse point, your tongue slipping out to taste him. 

His breath hitched, his hips bucked, and you threw your head back with a low moan when he hit the sweet spot inside of you with his cock.

“Fuck- sorry, lovie,” he apologized in a strained voice, trying to stay still. “Are you o-okay?” 

You only nodded shakily. “Please, mo-move.” You forced your hands to stop gripping his hair so much, keeping only one hand there while another cupped his cheek. 

Your eyes locked with his as he started to rock into you gently.

Giyuu’s face was flushed, sweat beading at his temples, lips parted to pant, eyes glazed over with an unnatural brightness. You probably looked no better, a mess underneath your lover. 

He kept panting and moaning softly, and this was the most expressive you'd ever seen or heard your boyfriend be. The vulnerability he showed you made you feel as if you would crack open - your heart so full it could not be contained-

“I love you.”

The words slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. His eyes seemed to glow with happiness, and he sped up his thrusts. Your hands fell from him to grip onto his forearms.

“I love you, I love you-Iloveyou-” Each time he bottomed out, you repeated your feelings, and each time, he went faster until nothing other than moans and whines could escape you. 

Why did this feel more intense than anything you’d ever felt before? Why did it feel like you’d spiral any second? Why did it feel like you couldn’t get enough, that you wanted more of him, have him deeper, make him carve you out from the inside until no one else could fit but him?

It was a heady mix of greed and lust and gluttony for Giyuu, the not-human, the wolf.

“Pl-ease-! Ah!”

You could hardly believe the sounds leaving your throat, high pitched whines and animalistic keening, which only seemed to spur Giyuu on to be rougher with you. He kept eye contact with you still, his hands gripping the fabric of your pillow above your shoulders tightly, his wrists leaning against you to keep you from sliding away from his thrusts.

“Ghi-yuu-ngh-” 

His lips slipped open even more, in awe of how beautifully he disintegrated your composure; dew beaded at your lash line, your eyebrows furrowed, eyes half-lidded as you babbled his name, begged and told him how you loved him. 

And oh how he loved you too. 

He was going to keep you as his forever. Your cunt was too good for him, you were too good for him. Your scent called to him. He needed you.

More, more, more.

Not enough.

Giyuu fucked you like the beast he was, chasing his pleasure and getting drunk off of yours. This was the first heat he’d been even tempted to sink into the core of his partner and Gods, it felt so good. He’d never be able to not fuck you during his heat.

Thankfully, his heats happened only once or twice a year…

He pulled back slightly, slowing the fucking temporarily so he could put both of your legs over his shoulders before he picked up his earlier pace again. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his sharp nails - claws - digging into your skin. You could no longer keep your eyes locked into his, turning your head away and clenching your eyes shut, tears of pleasure falling, when he slightly changed the angle and rubbed along your sweet spot repeatedly. You let out a hoarse whimper.

“Lo-lovie, if you get- fuck- if you get any tighter - hah - I won’t be able to pull out-” he choked out, yet he did not let up. Deep down, he knew he would not be able to hold himself back. He needed to give you all he had, he needed to fill you with his love.

You clawed at the mattress, trying to find purchase, not knowing if you wanted to escape from the ecstasy or if you wanted more. Something threatened to snap in your gut, Giyuu didn’t seem to care as he pounded into you. “Plea-se-!” 

Your voice was music to his ears; if he could, he would hone his wolf ears onto you for eternity. “What is it, l-lovie?” 

“I- I c-can’t- plea-se- please!” you begged, not knowing what for - but you wanted it, you wanted something.

Your wolf knew though. “I’ve got y-you… you can l-let go, lovie-” One of his hands left your hips to push on your belly, making you infinitely tighter. A mistake, or perfection?

The bubble burst in the next slam of his hips against your ass. You keened, arching your back, more tears escaping your eyes. You were afloat, mind unable to handle any other stimuli than what erupted from your core; your ears rang, stars burst behind your eyelids, your mouth hung open. 

A strange vibration reverberated through your body, then sharp heat inside of you, and a slight burn from being stretched. Your brain registered that that couldn’t be right, but you could not focus on anything at all.

Giyuu was in heaven, his knot locked inside of you, his seed filling you up, and you lost in pleasure. There was no better place to be than right where he was - inside you, around you, with you. You, you, you, only you. Your scent enveloped him in a heady atmosphere and his teeth ached with need to sink into your neck, your shoulder. He wanted to truly make you his own.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn't, not without your explicit consent.

He already felt like he'd preyed on you as is, not pulling out, using you like this… he needed to make it up to you somehow. 

He needed to show you he could be your forever partner, he needed to show you he could be your future.

He lowered your legs from his shoulders to cradle his waist instead, half-laying on you, soaking up your presence in the post-orgasmic bliss. It distantly occurred to him that his rut had not yet passed, the feverish heat still burning in his gut. He didn't even know how long he'd need to wait for his knot to deflate… before he needed to fuck you again, and again, and again.

"Are you okay?" Giyuu asked at last when the both of you caught your breaths.

You hummed in affirmation, sore all over, throat hoarse as if you'd been at a concert all night. Your arms loosely embraced him as you cooled down a little. "So… not human, huh?"

He flinched. "I have some explaining to do."

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A masked surprise

Summary: Letting your friend drag you to a costume halloween party even though all you wanted was to stay home turns out to be the best decision ever

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: T

Warnings: costume parties, halloween, alcohol, missing your husband, reader is Frankie's wife, costumes, surprises, some..... making out, a lot of fluff in this

A/N: This is my fic for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge! I chose Frankie and the prompt "masked stranger party" though the stranger turns out to be not that strange at all Tagging @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese I loved writing this and i had so many more ideas for the great prompts!

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Full Masterlist // Frankie Morales Masterlist

„Come ooooon, we gonna be late,“ you heard from downstairs. 

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. You still did not understand how you let yourself talk into going to this halloween costume party. 

You… weren’t a fan of parties.

Being the introvert of your friend group, you were happy just staying home and watching a movie. Or… binge a whole series on Netflix. 

You had a busy job, so you were glad when you were home and got to relax. Of course being home nowadays came also to be a little bittersweet. 

Frankie had been gone for almost nine months and you missed him every single day.

Thankfully this would be his last time on deployment and you were counting the days until he would be home just in time for Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving still was weeks away and you hadn’t been able to talk to him in the last three weeks with him being on a mission. 

So maybe the reason why you agreed to go to this party was to get you to think about anything else than your husband being away for one evening.

Taking one last look at the mirror to check your outfit, the stewardess costume being a little tighter than it had been the night you had met Frankie almost six years ago, you gave yourself a small smile. 

He had been dressed as a pilot, and you had been a stewardess. Your friends were teasing the two of you to this day that you ending up together had been written in the stars from the moment you met.

Just a couple more weeks until he would be home.

You could do this.

It was a friend of your friends friend that was hosting this party. 

You had gotten here almost an hour ago and were on your second drink. The music was blasting and you were talking to a woman in a very impressive Mandalorian costume when you felt like someone was watching you. 

Looking over your shoulder you couldn’t pinpoint If someone was actually watching you, with the amount of people in the room. Letting your gaze wander through the room your eyes lingered on a tall person wearing a ghostface mask leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, a beer in their hands. 

Your lips twitched into a small smile when you saw someone dressed in a full Luigi costume fist bump into their shoulder before you turned back to the Mandalorian in front of you.

„This might be super forward but… do you think we could go out for dinner sometime?“ The Mandalorian lady, Tess, asked you. You couldn’t hide the surprise at hearing this question, giving her a small smile.

„I’m sorry. I’m already taken. I feel very flattered though. Never had a Mandalorian hit on me,“ you smiled at her and she sighed with a wistful smile. 

„Should have known. Where is your….?“ 

„Husband. My husband. He’s currently on deployment. I am counting the days until he gets back,“ you said, taking a sip from your drink. 

„Oh that must be so hard,“ she said.

„Let’s just say I am glad when he’s back for good. The last six years were a challenge with him being away so often. But he’s… he’s the love of my life,“ you shrugged with a dreamy smile.

„Oh ugh are you talking about Frankie again?“ Your friend teased you while she put an arm around your waist. 

„Stop bullying me,“ you playfully slapped her arm, making her laugh. 

„Nah. Frankie is okay. I’m fully prepared to not see you for weeks once he’s back,“ she wiggled her eyebrows and you rolled your eyes. 

She wasn’t wrong though. The last time Frankie had been on leave you barely had left the house for the first two weeks.

„Anyway. Let’s stop moping about my husband and maybe…. Dance?“ You looked at your friend whose eyes lit up. 

„Yes please. The guy I just flirted with was gay. I was blinded by the firemen costume. I need to dance these awkward feelings away,“ she awkwardly laughed, before she pulled you to the dance floor. 

You felt like someone was watching you again. I mean there were a couple people watching you probably. You were trying your best impression of the Wednesday dance from the Netflix series, you and your friend laughing almost maniacally while doing it. 

„I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?“ Your friend yelled and you nodded. The song changed to a Prince song and you continued to dance, enjoying yourself. It took you a moment to realise there was someone behind you. Slowly turning around there they were. Mysterious ghostface mask, dancing with someone dressed as Mario and you wondered if Luigi, Mario and ghostface knew each other. You gave them a smile before you turned away, continuing to dance.

Once your friend got there to get you your drink, she said that she’ll go to the bathroom. Nodding you told her you’d wait outside for her, needing a bit of fresh air. 

This was how you found yourself sitting outside, the music still blasting. 

You had a drink and a hot dog.

And you were a little tipsy. 

Smiling to yourself you bit into your food when you heard the door open. Looking over your shoulder you saw ghostface mask stepping on the porch. 

„You know I never saw Scream?,“ you said before you turned away from them, continuing to eat. 

„I actually don’t like horror movies at all. I’m getting scared way to easily, my husband thinks it’s hilarious,“ you hummed. When the person didn’t say anything you turned around again, your eyes widening when the familiar brown eyes of your husband were staring back at you. He was smiling sheepishly at you, the ghostface mask still in one of his hands. 

The hotdog fell to the ground as you jumped up from were you were sitting. 

„Frankie?“ You whispered with wide eyes. 

„Hi baby,“ he grinned.

„Am I hallucinating?“ You asked and he chuckled, shaking his head. 

„I’m back baby. For good,“ he said and before you could stop yourself you were walking over to him, falling into his arms that wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You took a deep breath, just inhaling his scent that you missed so much.

„Have you been watching me?“ You asked, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. He leaned down, kissing your nose.

„Since you got here. Will and Ben are here too. They’re in the Mario and Luigi costumes,“ he grinned and you chuckled. 

„I missed you,“ you whispered and he finally leaned down to kiss you softly. You brushed one of your hands through his hair, deepening the kiss. He hummed against your lips, one of his hands on the back of your neck to get you even closer. 

„Woah,“ you heard behind you and you parted from Frankie’s lips, looking behind him to find your friend grinning at you. 

„You’re welcome,“ they winked. 

„You knew?“ You asked surprised. 

„Of course I knew. Now you can stop mopping about him coming home,“ they winked. 

„You really missed me, huh?“ Frankie teased and you hid against his chest.

„We had six days after we got married before you had to leave. Of course I missed you,“ you said and he kissed your forehead. 

„You wanna stay or you wanna get home?“ He asked, voice low. 

„Home. Definitely home,“ you said quickly and he winked.

„Uhm we are going home. Is that okay? I feel bad because we got here together and…“ your friend stopped you. 

„Please. I’ll get Mario or Luigi to take me home, don’t worry,“ they grinned and you laughed. 

„Okay,“ you reluctantly got out of Frankie’s arms to go over and hug them. 

„Thank you,“ you whispered and they just squeezed your tighter.

„Get out of here,“ they chuckled and you walked back to Frankie, taking his hand. 

You were waiting for an uber outside when you noticed him still holding the ghost face mask, about to throw it in the trash. 

„Uh…. You should keep that,“ you said quickly and he turned to you, narrowing his eyes. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him and his eyes darkened. 

He put the mask into the back of his jeans before he pulled you back into his arms. 

„Kinky,“ he whispered against your lips before he kissed you again. 

„You love it,“ you mumbled. 

„I really fucking do,“ he grinned and kissed you again. 

[satangcrush]

not the same anon as before but am also searching for om fanfic scraps

please drop some more author recs 🥹🥹🥹

hi nonnie!!! here are some more (i got tired of typing like half way through so some of them are short in description but i truly recc all of these authors okay!!!! also all sfw unless stated otherwise) <3

@aspiringtrashpanda : my recent discovery and love love her writing so much. do check out her obey me month, as well as her masterlist here

@devildom-dedicated-daydreams : suggestive content; this is just a blog dedicated to one fanfic but i highly recommend if you're into like those manhuas/manhwas with secondary character who gets revenge with a system in place. (brain kinda stopped so just check out their work on tumblr or AO3.)

@leviathans-watching : they have a variety of fandoms, so if ure multifandom, u can check out their pinned post for more. if you're only interested in obey me, you can check out their masterlist!

@demonfamilytherapist : i actually got recommended this account from a reblog on the previous ask but i havent had the time to go through their works. but here is their masterlist for reference <3

@shabootldoo : they write for a multitude of fandoms which you can check out in their pinned post, but if you're only interested in obey me, they specialise in writing for character/character (e.g. Solotan, SoloSim, etc etc)

@once-in-a-blood-moon : love jo's brain and im always having fun reading her thoughts (especially as a solomon enjoyer) and you can check out her sfw masterlist here and nsfw masterlist here

@obeythebutler : rosh has many many works for you to check out from one-shots to headcannons to series! you're in for a ride <3 this is their masterlists here (do note that there is nsfw work here so DNI if ure a minor, thank u)

@eraofkalki : vee doesnt have a masterlist yet but im tagging her works here for you to have easy access - young master, solomon's paradox, cor meum

@elsecrytt (NSFW): they havent written for the obey me fandom in a hot minute but i do come back to their masterlist from time to time to READ

@three-realms-archive : one of the first few blogs that i followed when i made mine <3 they do a variety of content too from oneshots, short snippets, hcs and series! they have quite a bit of work so you'll def have fun checking out their masterlist

@books-and-catears : another one that was recommended in a previous reblog on the last ask. i also havent had much of a chance to check them out but this is their masterlist for reference!

@obae-me : they have some nsfw works but they are tagged as such! they do both HCs as well as longer works here. have fun checking out their works hehehe

@meggs-wonderland : they have a mixture of both NSFW and SFW, so do check it out at your discretion :> this is their masterlist , they also do self-ships if ure interested to check it out!

@zephyrchama : if you love writers who specialises in comedy, they're the one for you. their writing always gets a chuckle out of me and i also want to applaud their effort for revamping their masterlist because theres so many works that they have written so far

@mochatsin : this was also another creator that was recommended in the previous ask and i also havent had the chance to check out their works but this is their masterlist

@denpa-dere : was recommended by @/zephyrchama in the replies, do note that they do both NSFW & SFW content! just binged their house arrest series (NSFW!) in the morning lol. (great read, 10/10 recc) this is their masterlist for reference

@thebellearchives : also recc by @/once-in-a-blood-moon!! this is their masterlist for reference, they have a mix of NSFW and SFW as well as write for JJK and Trigun if you are interested in these fandoms as well :>

here are a variety of other accounts that dont really write fics but i enjoy reading/browsing as well <3

@akuzonprime : the blurbs are very cute and i hope u take the chance to go through their account!

@obeymeinfo : they post character (outfit?) sprites of the characters and its a great place to look at, if you are looking for a particular outfit hehe

@devildom-fashion-week : they archive the character battle outfits and voicelines hehe, if ure ever looking for a particular outfit (to write or draw), highly recommend checking them out

@sheepthatgobaa : highly entertaining art. 10/10 recommend. also your token luke fan. (Familial btw. Do not Perceive Kelo Wrongly.) anyways she does a lot of requests too for fanart and it’s always so funny ehheheheh

@enoe-of-noen : they have a variety of content on their blog, from art, to fic, to hcs to, whatever you are looking for, they most probably have it HAHAH you can check out their pinned post here

@featheredcrowbones : love vy's art so im adding them in too lol but do check out their art tag!!!!!

@marsvlog : so actually im also a fan of mystic messenger and seeing their pinned post of belphie and saeran artwork (made me a little feral but i digress) so if ure a fan of both fandoms, ure in for a treat hehe

@dailyraphael : my daily serotonin for fanart of raphael + bonus of cute artstyle yes

@devildomwriter : theyre a great account to check out, they do quotes, lesson summaries, writing, and a plethora of other things!!! i especially love the obey me cast as cats series that they currently have going on.

@solomams : if youre looking for someone who's dedicated to their ocs + solomon & mammon, look no further because lupe is here to save the day

@yoyvmii : also does fanart for multiple fandoms but her mammon in boothill’s outfit artwork lives in my head rent free yes

@nevvn : was recommended by @/once-in-a-blood-moon in the reblog! love love love their solomon drawings, this is my personal fav from them

@solomiracle : was also rec by @/once-in-a-blood-moon! how could i have forgotten abt this, It's one of the staples of the solomon lover community! also what I love abt them is that they consistently reblog old artworks/works of obey me and its always pleasant seeing these artworks floating around again~

@starry-miki : recc by @/once-in-a-blood-moon!!! i did a customary scroll through the account and omg the marketable plushies artwork is so cute LOL, I also love this solomon artwork of theirs, its so pink and he's so cute lol

@sane-omblog : recc by @/in-the-bushes-miki! another one that I forgot to include lol. anyways love their art style, its so cute and whimsical!! (sidenote, i was rooting for teenage satan to win the poll but the art of baby satan was so cute that I was like yeah nvm)

@susujelly : another one recc by @/in-the-bushes-miki! its my first time seeing the account but the pinned post of solomon as the cat made me lol'ed so hard

@afraidofbee : also recc by @/in-the-bushes-miki! also another one that I forgot to include again lol, love seeing their posts of sheep!MC just absolutely getting up to mischief. and the artstyle is super endearing and this is one of my recent favs from them

+ some others i want to recc but I forgot in my initial post so im adding them as I go (im def forgetting people again lol): @bearakero : only posts about thirteen!! love love seeing fanarts of thirteen and this is my personal fav, just think that u do so much justice to her!

guys my brain died btw

Edit #1: guys wait let me self promo also lol hahahahah um my writing blog is @satanghulu if u wanna check me out 💖 okay fr bye

edit #2: this is the previous post if you are still looking for more writers in the fandom!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram. 

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse. 

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched. 

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else? 

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer. 

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.” 

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom. 

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied. 

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat. 

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out. 

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth. 

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.” 

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy. 

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.” 

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was. 

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary. 

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly. 

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol. 

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

 You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.” 

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently. 

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name. 

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person. 

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown. 

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!” 

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area. 

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

  “He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow. 

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile. 

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face. 

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view. 

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out. 

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud. 

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly. 

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

[previous][next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 1)

Summary: After one of the reader's last concerts of the year, she unexpectedly runs into notorious playboy Dean Winchester, quarterback of the LA Wolves. Only Dean's a big fan and he seems to want more than just a photo if given the chance...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 4,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: I promise there'll be more Dean and reader interacting in person next part! Needed to set the scene with this!

_________

You groaned the second you were alone. You’d survived the summer tour but you were exhausted. All you wanted was a greasy hamburger, chicken nuggets, and to sleep for a month. After changing into a pair of joggers and oversized hoodie, you texted your bodyguard Eric, telling him you wanted to get out of there quietly. He knocked twice on your dressing room door before entering with a smile.

“Great show tonight,” he said. You rolled your eyes, Eric grabbing your backpack for you. 

“Like you pay attention to anything besides harassing the security team,” you said, resting your forehead against his strong chest. “I never want to tour again. I’m so tired.”

“You’re just cranky cause you’re hungry and need sleep,” he said rubbing your back. “You only have two more shows this year and then we can sit on the couch eating cookies and binging divorce court.”

“This is why I keep you around, buddy,” you laughed, taking a deep breathe before looking up. “Speaking of food-“

“Let’s get you out of here and full of some chicken nuggies.”

“Back in five,” you said to Eric thirty minutes later, your wallet in hand and panic button in your pocket. He let you go out without it sometimes but not after a show and especially not when you were in the press so much lately. 

It was nearly midnight as you walked into the nearly empty McDonald’s, a guy in a hoodie at the counter with his back to you. 

“Hi,” you said, stepping up to the other register. “Can I get a quarter pounder with cheese, a medium fry and a twenty piece chicken nugget with barbecue sauce? Oh and a bottle of water.”

You paid, the girl behind the counter staring at you like she recognized you but was too nervous to say anything.

“Holy shit,” said a male voice. You glanced left, the man in the hoodie pushing it down to reveal him in a black baseball cap. He was incredibly handsome and had such pretty green eyes. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him but you couldn’t place it. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N…and apparently you eat like a linebacker.”

“Dance on stage for three hours every night and you would too,” you said, the man humming.

“Do you mind if I get a pic?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you said, the man handing his phone to the girl behind the counter who eagerly took a few. He was practically giddy when he got his phone back, a bag of food coming out for him.

“Thanks for indulging me,” he said. You noticed a few strands of confetti on top of his hat and smiled. He must have been at the concert. He almost walked away and out the door when he spun around, parting his lips. “Can I give you my number?”

“Sure,” you said again. It was much safer to just take the number and hand it off to Eric to do a background check on the person than try a rejection. The man scribbled it down on the back of your receipt, your cashier now acting as his wing woman and making sure he had a pen.

“I uh, hope to hear from you soon,” he said, flashing you a wink before leaving. You eased when he was gone, the girl at the counter handing you your bag of food after a moment. 

“He’s so hot, isn’t he?” she said, your eyebrows raising. Not the reaction you were expecting from her.

“Mhm. Thanks for the food. Have a good night,” you said, quickly leaving. You ducked outside, Eric waiting in the backseat for you. 

“Any trouble?” he asked, nodding to the man farther down the parking lot, slipping into a large SUV.

“Just a fan,” you said, handing him the paper with the guys number. He gave you a side eye as he took it from your fingers. “He was harmless.”

“I’ll check it out to be sure,” he grumbled, stealing a fry from your bag. “Did you get me-“

“Yes I got you your nuggets,” you said, Eric relaxing back into his seat. Your driver headed for home and in twenty minutes you were on your couch chowing down. Eric was at the kitchen counter, lazily scrolling through his phone, probably grateful that you were secure in the house for the night.

You watch his eyes go wide, gaze shooting to you.

“I swear I didn’t do anything.” You kept eating your burger, Eric silently watching you. “Dude, you’re freaking me out.”

“That fan from McDonald’s posted the pic of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes and got up, sulking over to him.

“Oh tell me he’s not some whack job.”

“He’s Dean Winchester,” he said, showing his phone to you. You shrugged, walking back to the couch. “Dean Winchester? NFL quarterback? Three time Super Bowl winner?”

You stared at him, Eric groaning. 

“He’s the quarterback for the LA Wolves…he went to Kansas State the same time you did, Y/N. You probably went to his football games.” He rolled his eyes at you. “How do you not realize you’re taking a picture with a sports legend?”

“I must have missed it with all my free time over the past dozen years with all the touring and ten albums and other shit in my life. And frankly you’re the one that told me it doesn’t matter who it is, I need to be careful of everyone, whether they’re famous or not.” He sighed, putting his phone away.

“Alright, I get your point,” he said, returning to eating. “Dude’s kind of a player anyways it seems like. Nice guy but I know you’re more the sensitive guy type.”

“Emotionally available,” you corrected, plopping down on the couch once more. “Why would you think he’s into me anyways? Plenty of people are fans without wanting to get in my pants.”

“Well, it’s Dean Winchester so he definitely wants in your pants,” he joked. “Also the caption, genius.” 

You quirked your eyebrow, Eric tossing his phone over to you. You pouted when you went back to the post, actually reading it this time.

DWinchester67 Y/N Y/L/N Saturday Night Concert at the Wolves stadium. AMAZING TIME with the crew. Worth getting ragged on by the boys all week for taking them to the show just to see them belt their hearts out to #FinishLine (video soon)

Then had the awesome luck to snag a pic with Y/N grabbing a midnight snack. I was dying on the inside at meeting my crush. Sorry for being awkward when you were trying to get your grub on. Next time it’s on me ;)

Your eyes met Eric’s when you finished, his chicken nuggets nearly gone. 

“Yeah, like no reason he’s into you, right?” smirked Eric. You grumbled, returning to your late night dinner. “I’ll background check that number in the morning.”

“He’s a player that wants to have sex. Don’t bother with the background work. He’s harmless.”

“As you wish, princess,” he said with a little bow, earning himself being hit in the face with your balled up burger wrapper. “The abuse I put up with. Tsk tsk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell that to your generous benefits package,” you said, Eric chuckling as he double checked the back doors were locked one last time. “Eric…”

“Mhm,” he hummed, ruffling your head gently as he walked past the back of the couch. “See you in the morning, kiddo.”

“Night. Oh!” you said, sitting up on your knees on the couch, Eric throwing his head back. “It’s nothing bad! Just…can you ban everyone from the house until ten? I really want to sleep in and try to catch up.”

“You want me to fend off your team? After Dean Winchester posted that? What do I get out of this?” he teased, crossing his arms. You batted your eyes, jutting out your lip. “You got to do better than that.”

“I’ll buy you box seats to an LA Wolves game of your choice?” He looked blank faced which meant he was really tempted to take the offer. But Eric didn’t like extravagant gifts from you for doing his job. He already said his paycheck was more than enough and he barely accepted the Christmas and birthday presents you’d get for him.

You held up a finger, Eric calculating the move.

“Give me one good reason for not accepting.”

“First off, it’s too much. Second, I’m your primary protection agent and need to be available-”

“Please Eric? They’re going to be vultures in the morning with that whole post and you haven’t had a day off in six months. You’re as exhausted as I am. I’m asking as your friend, not your boss.” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Is that a yes?”

“It means I’ll think about it and I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “We’re going to watch football all day. I’ll teach you all about it.”

You growled, Eric snickering the whole way out.

Dean POV

The first game of the season was always a good one. The team was healthy. We had home field advantage for once. 

And I really enjoyed the hell out of playing football in a packed stadium. It wasn’t an ego thing like for some people. No, I loved putting on a show and entertaining people for a few hours a week, give them a fun escape before they had to return to the reality of their lives.

That’s what football had always been to me and I knew for most fans, it gave them that same sense of belonging.

And women tended to really like seeing a bunch of muscular men run around in tight pants.

“Winchester, surprised you’re here,” said Michael. I glanced over my shoulder in the locker room, a big smirk on his face. “I thought you’d be in the burn unit with how hard you crashed and burned with Y/N Y/L/N last night.”

I rolled my eyes at the taunts of the room, ignoring them as they riffed on me for a good ten minutes. When Benny walked in though they finally calmed down, Ben taking a seat in his cubby beside me.

“Let me have it,” I sighed. Benny leaned in close, covering his mouth from the rest of the room.

“If you really want that girl to go out with you, you got to do more than make an insta post. She’s classy. She’s not going to fawn over you like every dipshit you’ve dated because you’re good looking. So you better impress her.” He gave me one last look before reaching down to his duffel and pulling out his cleats.

He had a point. Y/N had never cared for cocky flirts. I could remember her in college, always spending time at parties with the shy academic guys that chatted her ear off about music theory and english papers. I swear the only time she gave a single jock attention was when she’d grab a guitar in the late hours of the night and sing a song none of us had heard before. She could stop a group of drunken college students in their tracks with a single note. Nowadays her music was all pop but back then, just her and a guitar…I’d have sworn an angel fell out of the sky straight in front of me.

No woman had made my heart swell up with comfort and longing the way she had the night I laid eyes on her for the first time. 

The years had done little to diminish a teenage boy’s crush. If anything, seeing her last night, getting to talk to her for even a brief moment, made my insides burn hotter than before. Maybe it was only a crush, an infatuation with a beautiful woman with an even more beautiful voice.

I felt Benny’s stare on me as I lazily watched my feet before me.

“You’re still in love with her.” He said it as a statement so I didn’t respond. I’d never claimed such a thing despite Benny insisting on it back in college. But he’d always been good at sensing those kinds of things.

Or at least he wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.

“I talked to her in english lit once, about you.” My head snapped up, eyes wide as he was now down to his boxer briefs, tugging up his pants. “She heard what happened to Sam.”

“Why are you bringing up Sam?” I whispered, giving him a hard glare. Benny smiled, curious since he knew not to bring him up unless I did. “Half the school offered their condolences. Of course she-”

“She didn’t. She offered…hope. Apparently her little brother went missing once too.” I turned my head away. 

“Everyone who knows anything about Y/N Y/L/N heard that story. Congrats. We both have little brothers that were kidnapped and never heard from again. Fucking awesome we can share that trauma,” I spit out. Benny leaned in close, gripping my shoulder.

“She wrote a song for her brother. Finish Line. She showed it to me long before she got famous. Look up who it’s fucking dedicated to and maybe realize there is a deeper reason why you fell in love at first sight with that girl. I have a feeling she’s the only girl in the world that could get you and you knew it long before your head did.”

I was seething, storming out of the locker room and into a trainers room next door, quickly shutting the door behind me. What the fuck was Benny thinking bringing Sam up right before a game? I could handle thinking about a girl but Sam?

I angrily typed Finish Line dedication into google, freezing at the short paragraph that appeared as the top result.

Chart topper Finish Line by Y/N Y/L/N was notoriously written by Y/L/N in her senior year of highschool after the disappearance of her younger brother, Max. Max is presumed to have been abducted while walking home from a friends house. The music video of Finish Line states the song is “For Max & Sam” although Y/L/N has never stated who Sam is. Fans theorize “Sam” is a representation of all abduction victims however…

I immediately tapped on the youtube video of the song, scrolling all the way to the end, bottom lip wobbling as I read the stark white letters against the black background.

She never gave me the time of day back then yet she knew who I was, what it felt like to have a piece of you go missing and you couldn’t do anything about it. She put my baby brother in a song for her baby brother and we weren’t even friends.

I swallowed thickly, forcing myself to calm down. 

“Sammy,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Is this a sign or something? Is she as fucked up as I am and the world doesn’t know it? Is that why she’s never been seen with a boyfriend her whole career? Did she shy away from connections when I buried myself in meaningless ones? Are we both so screwed up on the biggest stage in the world and that’s why I still feel breathless when I see her? Tell me I’m not crazy, Sammy. Tell me there’s a reason I’m still head over heels for this girl.”

I slowly opened my eyelids, staring at coach who was staring back at me on the other side of the room by the far entrance. I quickly cleared my throat and turned to leave, coach’s whistle stopping me in my tracks.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about son, but my advice as someone who’s been married longer than you’ve been alive…you know when you fall in love. That’s the easy part. Admitting it and trying to get the balls to say it to her face is the harder part.”

“Sir, she doesn’t even know I exist. Or barely knows I do,” I said quietly. “I should-”

“Your little brother, god rest his soul, wants you to be happy, Winchester. So shoot your shot with this girl so you can stop having an existential crisis before my home opener, got it?” I glanced over my shoulder, coach’s face surprisingly soft for how close we were to game time. “She must be special to tame you.”

“She had me the whole time. The rest were me trying to forget.” He nodded, picking up his playbook again.

“Then go get this girl so you have your answer,” he said. “And stay out of my training room before games. Only place they can’t find me.”

“Yes sir.” I ducked back into the locker room, Benny gave me a raised eyebrow, silently asking if I was okay. I nodded and sat down to tie up my shoes, an idea sparking in my mind before I opened instagram. “Ben, take a picture of me.”

“Good god,” groaned Michael from my other side. “Like your insta doesn’t have enough shirtless selfies.”

He snagged my phone out of my hands, sighing as he took a photo of me smirking in my cubby.

“I regret being your friend,” he said, handing it back to me while Benny chuckled. 

“Same, Michael,” I smiled back before I was on insta and typing furiously. I posted before I could stop myself, Benny and Michael sharing a look and immediately going to their own phones. But they weren’t fast enough apparently.

“Winchester are you serious?” shouted Gabe from across the room, the whole team looking at their phones now.

“Yup,” I said, standing and tugging on my under armor v-neck, my shoulder pads and then my jersey. 

“You can’t force a girl to go out with you!” he shouted. 

“I’m not forcing. I’m offering a donation to her charity if she does feel inclined to go out with me,” I said with a shrug. Benny grabbed my shoulders, looking at me like I was crazy.

“Five million dollars? That’s not what I mean when I said impress her you idiot!” he said.

“That’s what the picture was for,” I said with a wink, my phone already buzzing non-stop at the incoming flood of texts and calls. “You think she’ll take me up on my offer?”

“This fucker’s really about to get a fucking date with Y/N Y/L/N through a fucking bribe,” said Michael, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re crushing so hard it’s in psycho territory.”

“One date is all I want,” I said, smiling when coach walked in, rolling his eyes at me. “Come on boys, time to focus on the game!”

Y/N POV

I was currently hiding in my bedroom, reading a book on Sunday evening, Eric doing his best to get my agent and manager and PR head out of the house without force. As expected, they’d reemed my ass out for not capitalizing on the Dean Winchester picture in the moment but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about hanging out with pretty fuck boys for publicity’s sake.

But I had followed him on my private account no one knew about. It’d taken a moment but I remembered who Dean Winchester was in our college days. He was flirty back then I remembered. And a good football player I guess. But I just remembered what happened in the spring semester, how the whole campus knew his pain before he had a chance to even process it.

My heart ached for a boy I’d said nothing more than a passing hello to at parties. 

I still felt that ache whenever I sang Finish Line. I’d never realized Dean went on to his own version of fame all those years ago. But I knew the hurt still existed in his heart. There was no healing it but some part of me wished I could soothe it for a moment. I forgot in the music sometimes. Maybe he could do the same when he played his games.

Maybe I really should have talked to him last night.

My phone buzzed and I saw a new post, this one of him making my jaw drop. “Hot damn you are good looking, Winchester.”

Then I shrieked when I looked at the caption.

DWinchester67 Hey @Y/NY/L/N it was fun running into you last night. How about you take me up on my offer and let me buy dinner for our first date? 

Oh and to sweeten the deal, I’ll donate five million dollars to your charity if you say yes (plus another million for each touchdown I throw tonight, those are freebies for ya). 

You got my number so waiting on you sweetheart. ;)

Eric was in the room before I could raise my head, eyes darting around the room before he determined there was no threat. 

“Jesus, girl. I swear if you saw a bug-”

“Dean Winchester asked me out. Publicly.” Eric narrowed his eyes as he tucked his gun back into the holster. 

“Okay…you made it clear to the team today you don’t want anything to do with a publicity stunt. What’s the problem?” You tossed the phone to the end of the bed, Eric sitting on the bench at the bottom to pick it up. He did a double take, eyes skirting to meet yours. “I’m doing a full background check on this man. He either really wants in your pants, to profit off you or he’s obsessive. To be honest, I don’t like any of those options.”

“Me either but five million dollars to the charity? Plus more? That could help kids, Eric. We could find a safe way to do this, right?” He pursed his lips, nodding once.

“One date at a place of my choosing. My team will be there in the background and I’m going to talk to this boy and let him know all of the ways I can kill him if he tries anything.” You smiled, Eric handing the phone back. 

“You’d kill your favorite football player for me. You’re too sweet Eric,” you chuckled. He stood up, adjusting his sports blazer.

“You know why I stuck with you when my agency assigned me to the Princess?” he asked, a dry laugh leaving his lips. “You always listened to me. You didn’t always agree but you listened and we could have conversations. We could have conversations about safety without you acting like a brat or me like an asshole. You respected me and that earned you loyalty all these years later.”

You stared your hands in your lap. “My parents lost one child. I don’t want them to lose another.”

You were surprised to find him come closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling softly. 

“Don’t lose hope now, kiddo. I’ve always admired that about you.” You looked away, Eric stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Someday we’ll find the truth. I promise.”

“My mom wishes it were me,” you said, shaking your head. “If I didn’t make my parents so much money I’d think they’d be plenty happy to let some crazy fan take me away forever. All because I was five minutes late to pick up Max and he decided to walk home.”

“Hey!” Eric gripped your shoulders hard, hard enough that you felt the strength of his hands down in your bones. He was always so gentle you with guiding touches here and there you often forgot he was as deadly with his hands as he was a weapon. 

You met his gaze, Eric sighing.

“That is not true and you know it.” His stern expression softened when you shook your head.

“She told me the day we had a funeral for him Max should have been there and I should have been the one missing. So I know, Eric.” He pulled you into a hug, letting you squeeze him tight.

“I know she did,” he whispered, your chin resting on his shoulder. “She has so many regrets from that time and knows what she said broke something with the two of you. But I have had countless conversations with them over the years. I know you trust me so trust me when I say, you are their world and it would destroy them to lose you. She always asks me if you’re happy because she says you put on your fake smile for her. She doesn’t blame you one bit for it.”

“I hate when you have points,” you said, closing your eyes, getting another squeeze from him. 

“Happy to help my buddy. So you don’t give up on Max yet, alright? Everyone else has. If he’s out there, he needs you to keep going for him.”

“No wonder your team adores you. Soft cuddly bear under all the threats of violence aren’t you?”

“It’s how I land so many chicks,” he chuckled. He kissed your temple and stood, cracking his back. “Respond back yes if you want to. Let me look into this Dean Winchester before you agree to anything else though.”

You hummed, clearing your throat when Eric was in the doorframe. “I-I do remember one thing about Dean in college. He had a younger brother Sam that went missing too. Never found him.”

Eric kept his back to you for a beat, nodding once. 

“Do you think Dean is a bad guy?”

“Gut check says no. Probably just wants a hookup,” he said before stepping out and pulling the door shut fast behind him. “Rowan, I swear to god you bother this girl tonight and I’ll shove my glock up your ass.”

“He asked her out! I need to talk to her!” he yelled back on the other side of the door. You sighed and put on your noise canceling headphones before going to instagram and tapping on his post. 

Y/NY/L/N @DWinchester67 One date. As friends Winchester

Not five seconds later you received a winking emoji and “friends” in response. 

“Dear god, you’re going to be a handful, Winchester.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[hannie-dul-set]

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [2].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, multiple instances where personal space is invaded HAHAHHA, the boys are very dramatic please understand their yearning hearts. WORD COUNT. 4.5k.

NOTE. woohoo! next chapter to this shitshow! some parts may be a bit confusing and vague....sometimes ominous....but all will be known in due time HAHAHHA (may be tempted to give a spoiler or two if u ask). hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — these meet-cutes aren’t cute at all.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS. But you don’t need to know how to get the idea that Taehyun is shooting an insult at you right now. His face says it all. “I said you look like hell,” he repeats after you’ve removed your headphones, the music still leaking out even after you’ve settled it down the cemented table. 

“Taehyun’s right,” Gaeul pipes in, and Woohyun seconds it. “You look like crap. What did you do last night?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you grunt, melting into the table. The sound of Yeong-Il’s Second Life is still just barely playing in the background thanks to your loud as fuck headphones volume. “We finished our exams. Of course I stayed up until six in the morning watching dramas.”

Three disappointed stares and one of full respect. “Dude, you’re crazy,” says Huening. “What did you watch? Night Has Come? My Demon? You should’ve invited me. I feel betrayed.”

“Both,” you reply, but you don’t seem all too happy after consuming over twenty episodes worth of dopamine. You’re frowning. You slam a fist down the table and let out a groan. “But they don’t fill the Choi Soobin shaped hole in my heart— fuck! Why isn’t he getting employed? Why hasn’t he been posting on his Insta? It’s been six months since his last drama. I miss him already.”

Huening’s attempts to console you consist of a few pats on your back. Gaeul’s attempt is a lot more effective. “Didn’t you win a slot to Choi Yeonjun’s fansign this weekend? Aren’t you coming?” You spring up with a gasp. “Girl, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did! I fucking forgot because I have a deadline on the same fucking day, fuck! I want to die. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you still going?” asks Woohyun.

“Of course she is! Deadlines come ten times a week, but the chance to meet Choi Yeonjin comes one in a million!” Gaeul exclaims, then grabs you by the shoulders with a very serious look on her face, as if she wasn’t just disappointed that you sacrificed sleep just to watch a bunch of dramas. “Tell him I’m in love with him. No, wait, I need to tell him that in person. Tell him to wait for me. I’ll get in next time for sure.”

You whine out something that sounds like an agreement. “I haven’t prepared an outfit yet. This is so depressing. Gaeul, help me.”

Taehyun, who doesn’t share any of your unhealthy fixations, still hasn’t crawled out from his state of disappointed concern. “Just make sure you don’t miss your Saturday deadline,” he says. You roll your eyes in response.

“This is me you’re talking to. I may not seem like it, but I have my shit together. You don’t have to worry.”

They hate to admit it, but it’s true.

Your friends have always wondered how you managed to balance your hellish course load, your evening shifts at The Grind, and your hobby of fangirling over pretty and good looking men. The only reason you were able to binge two dramas until daylight is because you’ve finished all your midterm requirements before taking your exams, and you’ll definitely be able to attend the fansign because you’ll somehow finish a thirty-page paper in one day, in between classes and your work shifts.

They’re quite convinced you’re insane. The lifeless look in your eyes as you flit through your flashcards to review for a recitation later is a testament to that insanity.

But sometimes, a little spark of life manages to slip through.

Like right now, as you check a notification in your phone in the middle of reviewing.

“Shit, fuck, shit— oh my god. Yeong-Il dropped an interview, fuck, hold on—”

“Whoa, really?’ Woohyun digs his nose next to you. You guys have a graded recitation in thirty minutes, and you’re walking to the classroom with a blank face zeroed in at your phone screen in landscape instead of the flashcards you have now tossed away into your bag, paying no mind to your surroundings to the point that Gael and Huening have to make sure you’re still walking in the right direction.

Taehyun isn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. They can’t even tell you off because they know you’ll somehow find the answers to Prof Yang’s questions anyway.

APPARENTLY, THERE’S A CAR ACCIDENT OUT FRONT. On top of having a tiring day of rehearsals and the interview with Beomgyu exposing his delusions on the internet being dropped earlier (they didn’t edit it out, those rats), Yeong-Il isn’t having a good day, so it’s to no one’s surprise the the tension inside their van on the way back to their dorms is rather palpable.

Beomgyu, however, doesn’t feel said tension. Or maybe he just doesn’t care because he’s closing his eyes, ready to nap while all the rest of the vehicles surrounding theirs are honking their horns, and while Jeongin and Jimin are monitoring the interview on a phone. The part where Beomgyu talks about his alleged first love comes up. “Beomgyu,” Heeseung groans, covering his ears with a neck pillow. “Did you really have to say all that?”

“Ahh, quit nagging. No one’s even taking it seriously,” he grumbles, arms crossed and turning over his body to face the window instead of his bandmates.

“Yeah, people are just raving about how romantic Beomgyu is,” says Jimin.

“And making edits of him and Heeseung,” adds Jeongin. “They’re mistaking your stressed-out glances at Beomgyu as signs of unrequited love—”

Heeseung shoves a hand against Jeongin’s face to shut him up. “Still. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

“Nyenye. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.” 

They’re friendly as usual. Heeseung can’t put in the last word because Beomgyu has completely transformed into a sleeping position— yet he can’t seem to sleep and rest despite being absolutely fucked out and tired. He lets out a groan, squirming in the car seat. “Ugh.” The car still isn’t moving. The road is still a mess. All he wants is to rest as soon as possible, and he can’t even have that. All he wants is to see you again as soon as possible, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t have that as well.

Beomgyu gives up. He begrudgingly opens his eyes and looks at the state of the traffic out the window. It’s getting dark. Streetlights are being lit up one after the other, and he watches people moving faster than the frozen cars, like the road and the sidewalk are on two separate spaces of time.

A thought enters his head. What are the chances that you’ll be one of the people walking along the sidewalk right now?

“They’re making way for an ambulance.”

It’s a fruitlessly hopeful thought, he knows. It’s a silly possibility to entertain. But still. He can’t help but examine each of the faces passing by in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his wish from four-hundred years ago will finally fucking come true. 

“Damn, when are we getting home?”

Right when Beomgyu gives up hoping and tries to fall back asleep again, he spots a familiar face walking down the sidewalk. Wait a minute—

“Man, this sucks.”

He jolts up, There’s no way. There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize that expression— stone-cold, looking as if the very thing in front of you is a worthless bug waiting to be stepped on, warding away any possible attempts of anyone bothering you. There are no knives in your hands, but a phone and a paper bag. You’re not adorned in the blue, red, white, and gold like he’s used to, but a large coat draped over your shoulders.

Still. Even if your face is covered by a mask, or if you’ve inhabited the body of a completely different person.

“Beomgyu, wanna play are round when we get—”

There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize you.

Looks like the chances are high after all.

“Beomgyu?!”

The van door slides open. Beomgyu feels the cold air hitting his face as he rushes in between the gaps of the traffic-saddled cars and the spaces in between. He hears Heeseung and Jeongin and Jimin calling after him but he doesn’t give a shit. Not now. Not when he’s sure he finally has you within reach, closing in the gap between you before you can disappear into a corner. Not when all he has to do is stretch out his hand, breath caught in his throat and heart racing, and pull you by the arm so you can turn around and look at him.

And you do.

Your phone crashes to the ground, and you’re looking at him like you want to punch him in the face. Beomgyu’s heart skips a beat.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s you.”

Beomgyu watches your brows knit together, your mouth falling into a sneer. It’s like looking into a time machine. Holy shit. 

“It’s really you.”

That look of annoyance. There’s no denying it. Night has fallen. The only thing illuminating your face is a single streetlight hanging above, but he’d be stupid to mistake you for anyone else. The arm that shakes his hold off is yours. The eyes that are glaring at him— sharp as knives— are yours, yours, and yours alone and he can get lost in them for hours on end. “The fuck? Do I know—” 

Your name falls from his lips for the first time in centuries. It’s always been blurry, always at the tip of his tongue the moment his memories from four-hundred years ago came crashing back to him like a storm. But now, it comes off naturally the moment he sees you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to sing.

He says your name once more. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“Are you a stalker?”

“I love you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he repeats, breathless. “My biggest regret was failing to tell you how much I loved when I still had the chance.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

Beomgyu reaches out for your hands, tugging you closer. Your skin burns him. Warm. Alive. “Now that I’ve been given that chance, I’m not letting go of you anymore.” He pauses, practicing the words inside his head before saying, “Let’s get married.” 

“What?!”

“I love you. I missed you. Let’s get married right now.”

You don’t say anything. You’re silent. Beomgyu feels his stomach wrench and drop and hurt all the way to his chest and lungs because why—

Why are you looking at him like that? 

“I’m going to call the fucking cops.” Once again, you shove him off, pulling your hands back and pressing them close to your chest. “There’s a crazy fucking bastard on the— shit! My phone! The screen is cracked, gosh! I haven’t even finished paying for it, for fuck’s sake, you have to— ex—excuse me, are you crying? Are you actually crying? What the hell?”

Beomgu’s vision is cloudy and his cheeks are wet. He knows you’ve always been spunky. You’ve always had an attitude and you two didn’t start off on the right foot, either. But why are you acting like you don’t know him? Like he’s some sort of fucking stranger? 

“Hey, I should be the one crying right now! You broke my phone! What is wrong with—”

“There you are!”

Suddenly, he doesn’t see you anymore. Heeseung’s voice comes crashing in and he gets shoved aside, eyes stinging and mind still in a daze. “I’m so, so sorry for my friend over here. We can’t pay for the damages right away, but please take this. Again, we’re so sorry! Hope you have a great night, still!”

No. He can’t let you slip away again. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms like all the countless times he hasn’t. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Heeseung yanks him back before he can run after you down the sidewalk. “Quit being weird. Why the hell are you crying?”

Beomgyu is having a hard time understanding. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he simply doesn’t want to believe this— but your eyes don’t lie. He can tell if you’re annoyed by him just by looking at you. He can tell if you’re angry, regretful, elated, or drunk from the onslaught of his affections, so this time— he can clearly tell as well.

He can tell just from the look in your eyes that you don’t remember him.

That all those years of waiting for you was all for naught.

SOOBIN KNOWS THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW. He knows that he’s supposed to be on a diet, and he knows that he has a photo shoot for a magazine this weekend. He even got rid of his stash of instant ramyeon because of that, deleted all those delivery apps because this’ll be his first schedule after a few months of taking a break.

But he is here, at one in the morning, in between the isles of the 7-Eleven nearest to his apartment building, because cravings sometimes trump rationality, and god he sure is craving for a cup of noodles. Or two. Two sounds good. And since he’s already here, might as well put a pack of milk bread in his basket. A can of Sprite too. Manager Lee is gonna kill him, but at least he’ll die full and satisfied.

“Hey, hold the door open for me.”

“Don’t you have hands?”

“Nice! They have empty seats outside. Waiting here. Buy me some donuts.”

Ah, shit. Soobin pulls his hood over his head and readjusts his mask. Sounds like a group coming in. He should pay later once the store’s emptier— meaning, he has no choice but to browse for more snacks to add to his basket. Totally not because he wants to, no. 

“Why’d you bring your laptop all the way here? You can continue working in Woohyung’s apartment.”

“Yeah, girl. There’s still a lot of time before the deadline.”

Soobin doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but the voices are talking pretty loudly. He’s dropping a few packets of yakgwa cookies into his basket while listening to a group of college students mourning about their courses. Good thing he chose not to pursue tertiary education. 

“I need to finish this as soon as possible if I want to attend the fucking fansign. Crap, I should’ve switched majors when I had the chance.”

He abruptly stops snack surfing. Wait. Pause. Hold on.

“Should’ve done that before junior year.”

“I know. Shut up. Get me a popsicle, please. Chocolate. Thank you.”

That voice—

“They ran out. Only strawberry or melon. Pick one”

“That’s fucking balls.”

“You’re so eloquent.”

“Suck my fucking dick.”

Okay. Nevermind. It’s kinda weird to hear a voice that sounds eerily similar to the love of his life’s saying so much obscenities. You only spoke pretty words to him before, so maybe he’s just tripping. There’s no way you’d swear so much, so he continues browsing the snack aisle. Maybe he just misses you so much that he’s starting to mistake a similarly sounding voice as yours and subconsciously letting his hopes up.

“Hyun, by the way. I forgot to mention. I met a Choi Beomgyu lookalike last night on the way home from work. It was fucking wild.”

Then again, he thinks, arm paused hovering above a bag of chips. People didn’t really say suck my fucking dick in Joseon era.

Soobin stops filling his basket and starts moving out of the aisle, following the sound of your voice.

“I almost fell in love on the spot, but the guy wasn’t right in the head, I think.” Closer. You’re starting to sound closer. “He knew my name. He kept acting like he knew me and asked me to fucking marry him? I even dropped my phone because he scared the shit out of me. I don’t know, it was wild.”

Where? Where are you?

“Dude, really? No way.”

“I’m serious! I’m telling you—”

Where the hell are you?

“I even got a card from his friend when he dragged the Beomgyu clone away. I have it here, take a loo— wait. Wait. Isn’t BH the agency that manages Yeong-Il? Am I wrong— oh, sorry!”

There you are.

There’s a stain on his hoodie. Bright pink. It matches the popsicle you’re holding, the varsity jacket you’re wearing, and the color painting his cheeks because you’re right in front of him. You’re actually right in front of him right now— face flushed with panic, eyes rapidly blinking. “Are—are you Choi Soobin?” someone says. Not you. You’re still profusely apologizing while trying to wipe away the stain with your jacket sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous, Huening. Go get me some tissues! I’m so, so sorry, oh gosh. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You’re here. It’s actually you. His heart is racing. He can’t fucking breathe. He’s not sure if he should cry, scream, or all of the above.

But there’s something different. There’s something wrong.

“I can tell Choi Soobin from a picture of his ear! I’m telling you it’s him!” Your attention is pulled away by your companion tugging on your arm. “You’re Choi Soobin, right?! Jipuragi? Figured Obscurity?”

“Dude, you’re making him uncomfortable! Why in the world would Choi Soobin be—”

Soobin pulls down his mask, tugging on its fabric. When you turn back to look at him, your popsicle drops to the ground and you let out a gasp.

Your eyes are shining. You’re beaming. You do recognize him. You do know him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

Just not in the way he was hoping for.

“Y—yeah. Would you like a picture?”

You let out a squeal. So does your friend. This isn’t how Soobin expected his reunion with you to go about. This is wrong. He had it all planned in his head like a screenplay, and all that was left was to execute it without fail.

The moment he sees you, he was supposed to spin you around and hear your laughter fluttering in the air. He was supposed to hold you in his arms and give you the first kiss he’d been saving in this life because he’s been waiting for you all this time, yearning for years and years to give you the life he wasn’t able to in the past. To make up for everything you missed because in this life— there’s no class system to keep you apart. There’s nothing stopping him from loving you out in the open.

He didn’t expect to give you his autograph and take a fan selca with you after years of waiting.

This is so wrong. This is so freaking wrong.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” who he assumes is your friend says, and you’re smiling so, so brightly while looking at the photo of you and him that everything he wishes to say and profess and confess just lodges in his throat, blocking everything in its path.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, we won’t post this anywhere,” you say. Soobin holds back the inhuman urge to tell you why settle for a photo, when you can have him instead?

“S—sure. Anytime.”

“Ah, we should probably give you some privacy now. Huening, stop gawking! Anyway, fighting! We’re looking forward to your upcoming dramas!”

Just like that, you leave. You walk out of the store and join the rest of your friends outside, and he sees you showing off the signature he left on your receipt from the window, when he could give you so much more than that, when you could show off that you already own his entire heart. This...this really isn’t how he wanted to reunite with you. And the underlying reason for it something he doesn’t want to entertain.

“YEONJUN, YOU’RE UP IN TEN,” says a staff member. It’s the last week of promotions, and Yeonjun is getting his hair and makeup retouched one last time before he’s set to go uponstage to open the fansign. His manager tells him not to do anything stupid, or scandalous, or all of the above onstage— an almost everyday reminder that Yeonjun, more often than not, isn’t interested in listening to.

“Noona, you should trust me more,” he reacts, a slight whine in his tone. Manager Kim’s expression is nothing but dubious.

“At the very least warn me before you do something insane so I can prepare.”

“Will do,” Yeonjun grins, and his manager waves him off. Screams erupt the moment he emerges from behind the stage curtains, and everything else just comes naturally for Choi Yeonjun— not needing to second guess when he blows a kiss mid-performance, stirs the crowd with a comment or two, and making sure that all eyes are on him, almost as if he was born on every stage he steps foot on.

And to think he started this career without any desire for stardom.

Now, there’s nothing he desires more than blinding lights and the visceral sounds of cheers.

“A—ah, hello!” 

Well. There is one thing.

“Crap, I—I’m so nervous I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh no,” replies Yeonjun to the fan sitting before him, marker in hand as he flips open the tabbed page on the nth album splayed out on the table. “Should I give you CPR to help you start breathing again?” 

The girl lets out something sort of a squeal. He grins out a laugh and asks for her name and if she’s eaten anything yet.

“Thank you! Oh— oh, wait, one more thing—”

“Next!”

It’s a fast paced rotation. It always is. But Yeonjun uses the split second before the next person carousels in front of him to make a quick scan across the people lining up, across the people waiting in the audience seats, clinging onto the sliver of probability that this may finally be the day where his years of yearning for the ghost of past can finally end— well overdue for god knows how long already. 

He reuses and rehashes the same lines, same dialogue, and same greetings for the next person, and the next person, and the next and the next and the next. It’s just one face after another. Not that he’s bored, or unappreciative of the fans that spent their time (and truckloads of money) to see him. But it’s human to feel a sense of disappointment when the face he wants to see doesn't turn up after the fifth, tenth, seventh, hundredth, thousand, nth face, fansign after a fansign.

“Next.”

His wrist is getting sore, back is getting tired, but Yeonjun readies himself for another round of mindless chat, missing the opportunity to do his routine scans when he closes his eyes to roll back his shoulders. 

“Oh.”

Yeonjun hears the voice in front of him say. It’s a singular syllable, not even a word, but it’s enough to snap him wide awake.

“Oh my gosh,” you say again. Yeonjun doesn’t feel his fingertips. “You’re even prettier up close, whoa, this is crazy.”

He’s frozen. The usual ments and words and lines that usually flow naturally off his tongue don’t come. His brain is empty. The ink from his marker seeps into the album page underneath his numb hands. He hears his manager say something, but his manager’s voice is so far away— so, so, so far away, but the face he;s been yearning for in his memories is now, all of a sudden and without warning, within an arm’s reach, right before his eyes.

The marker stumbles out of his grasp. If Yeonjun reaches an arm out right now—

“U—uh.”

—he’d be able to touch your face.

“O—oh, holy shit, okay so we’re doing this now.”

And he is. The very feeling of your soft skin, unchanged from the feeling stored in the capsules of his memories, burns stronger than the adrenaline he feels when he’s onstage under the spotlight.

It’s real. You’re real.

You’re right in front of him right now.

“Choi Yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hiss of his manager from behind is ignored when he suddenly springs up from behind the table, and you let out a yelp when he drags you up along with him. He’s holding both of your hands, thumbs brushing over the ridges of your knuckles before pulling them closer to his chest. There’s whispering in the background, along with the snaps and flashes of the numerous cameras littered everywhere in the venue.

“Yeonjun.”

He pays no mind to them. Instead he brings up your hands to his face and presses a kiss onto your knuckles. 

There’s a scream and gasp and a yell coming from somewhere. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

But all he’s focused on is the swirls in your widened eyes, dizzy and taken aback, voiceless with your mouth hanging open. Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Why don’t you look happy to see me, my love?” You hack out a hard cough and Yeonjun drops your hands in surprise. “What’s— what’s wrong?” he stammers, leaning forward and closing into your face while you turn away from him, digging more unease into his bones because this...this doesn’t seem right.

“Sh—shit, I think I need to sit down, oh my god,” he hears you say, and it hits him. Yes. You were never good at expressing your affection. Yes, yes. Perhaps you’re just overtaken by a surge of emotions, that your appearance looks like that of constipated confusion of trepidation as a result of being overwhelmed by the fact that you’re so in love with him and that you’re happy to see him again.

Yes. That must be it. You’re both sat back down, and he scribbles something on your now ink-stained album. “Next.” And when you’re just about to bow and leave, he says your name— one that he thought he’s forgotten— and you freeze.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he laughs. “There’s no need to be shy. Should I kiss you again to ease your— ack!”

“Next! Next person!” 

Suddenly, you’re being scurried away. “No, wait!” he yells out, but the moment he tries to get up again, he’s jerked right back.

His manager is holding the back of his collar, and you’re disappearing into the crowd. Was…was Manager Kim always this strong? He can’t even budge, can’t even run after you after he’d finally been reunited with you again.

“Choi Yeonjun, that’s enough!”

He blinks, remembering belatedly just where he is right now.

There’s still a line of people waiting for him. Yeonjun drops back to his seat, his manager losing her grip on his shirt, and he brings himself back after a round of inhales and exhales. It’s alright, he thinks to himself. It’s gonna work out. “Sorry about that,” he hums, smiling at a now different face sitting in front of him. “What did you tell me your name was?”

You’ve been separated from him yet again, but this time it’s fine. He’s not anxious. He’s certain that it won’t take centuries for you to return to each other, no— it won’t be long until then because this time, he’s not dead. 

You’re both still alive at this point in time.

And that enough assures him that he’s going to find his way back to you.

“Next!”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[reader6898]

Ease

Pairing: Kix x pregnant! female reader

Summary: When Kix comes back home from a day of saving lives and sees his pregnant wife having back issues he decides to help ease her pain

Warning: 100% fluff, Kix being the best husband to his loving wife

A/n: I'm back babes! I'm so excited to be writing for all of you again so enjoy some fluff with our favorite medic and look out for some more new content coming soon 😘

Kix couldn't wait to get home. After seeing multiple patients and helping in two surgeries at the hospital all he wanted to do was take a shower to get the day off of him, eat some unhealthy takeout from Dex's Diner and curl up on the couch to binge watch all his favorite shows and movies before sleeping for the next three days. Most importantly he wanted to be with his beautiful riduur. You were everything to Kix and once he got home he wanted to dote on you hand and foot. He would do pretty much anything for you. As Kix left the hospital he said goodbye to his coworkers and made his way down the street to the diner. He picked up a whole bunch of food for you and him then caught a cab home. Kix sent you a message letting you know that he was on his way home and you sent him a reply telling him you couldn't wait to see him. Kix smiled before putting his comm away and enjoyed the rest of the ride home.

---

Kix made his way up to your shared apartment and punches in the code. The door slides open and Kix makes his way inside. "Cyar'ika, I'm home." Kix kicks his shoes off and sets his bag down. He carries the bag of food to the kitchen and when he sees you Kix smiles. "Hello, my love." Kix's smile fades as he sees you with a hand on your back and he knows that you must be in pain. It's not that all surprising since you were eight months pregnant and on top of that you were carrying twins. Both of you were so happy when you found out you were pregnant but as the months passed and your pregnancy progressed all you wanted was for the pregnancy to be over.

Kix sets the food down on the counter and makes his way behind you. He puts his hands around your heavily pregnant belly and gently lifts it. You groan and lean your head against Kix's chest as the extra weight is lifted off of you. "Feel good?" You giggle a little. "Have I told you I love you?" Kix smiled as he placed a kiss on your head. "I love you too, Mesh'la." As the two of you stand there Kix wishes that he could take all of your symptoms and pains of your pregnancy away from you and put himself through it. Unfortunately he can't and he knows that this pain free moment for you can't last forever. "I'm sorry, cyare." You hummed in understanding. "It's okay, Kix. You can let go."

Kix holds your stomach for another moment before gently setting your belly down. You turn around and wrap your arms around Kix as much as you can but your huge pregnant belly was in the way. You groan and Kix laughs a little as he kneels down and makes eye level with your stomach. "You two are such trouble makers. Let your poor buir be and let me hug her." At the sound of Kix's voice the twins kick you and you place your hand on your stomach. "They aren't happy that their daddy is giving them orders." Kix shakes his head with a smile on his face and places a kiss on your stomach.

Kix stands back up and pulls you close. " I got all our favorites. I'm gonna go take a shower and put on something comfy then we can hang out in the living room and binge watch our shows and movies while we eat." You place your hands on Kix's chest. "I love it. But you know that we also have to set up the nursery and you have to put the cribs together." Kix groaned. "We can do all that tomorrow. For now I just want to spend time with my beautiful, sexy riduur." You smile at the flattery and Kix captures your lips with his. The two of you kiss for a moment before he pulls away.

"I'll be back." Kix walks out of the kitchen and down the hall to your bedroom. You hear the door close and the shower start as you sigh. You don't know how you ended up with a loving man such as Kix but you wouldn't have it any other way. You take out a couple of plates and the food out of the bags and by the time that all of that is done Kix is all cleaned and dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He places a hand on your stomach as he kisses you once again and the twins kick you again when they feel Kix. The two of you laugh as you pull away from one another.

" I think the twins are hungry." Kix smiles. "I'm sure they're eager for the food that I brought us." Kix grabs the food while you grab the plates and silverware and the two of you make your way to the couch. Kix puts everything down and he helps you sit down. Once the two of you are settled you pick out a show to watch while Kix puts food on the plates and afterwards the two of you settle in for the night. You eat all you can and once your stomach is full and your unborn babies are satisfied you sit closer to Kix who pulls you close. You settle in closer and not long after the two of you have fallen asleep in one another's arms.

Tagging: @anxiouspineapple99 @techs-stitches @dystopicjumpsuit @trixie2023 @cw80831 @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sunshinesdaydream @eternal-transcience @clonethirstingisreal @sverdgeir @sev-on-kamino @the-rain-on-kamino @the-bad-batch-baroness @rexxdjarin @freesia-writes @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @secondaryrealm @wizardofrozz @wings-and-beskar @photogirl894 @vodika-vibes @multi-fan-dom-madness

[lucy-gray1075]

Finnick comforting reader when she is on her period?

I love your work so much<33

Tomorrow Never Came

tyy love!!

context: Finnick and reader are fellow tributes from four who are both currently at the Capitol cause they were Reaped for the Games.

a/n: Yes, Finnick nicknames reader ace lol. I've been binging s5 and 6 of Gilmore Girls and Finnick is so Logan coded <3

౨ৎ･ﾟ:*

"Ughhh!" You hated being dramatic, but you hated things not going your way even more. "Stupid blanket!"

You let out another prolonged groan when it once again slid off your legs and onto the floor. It was a blanket for God's sake, wasn't the thing supposed to keep you warm? Instead, the threadbare fabric couldn't even stay on top of your legs.

"Now, honey, there's no need to throw things around and cause a fuss." You could place the unmistakably pouty drawl from a mile away. You felt his maddeningly hot breath on the back of your neck as he leaned over your spot on the couch.

"Go away, Odair." You fought to keep your voice calm. Seeing you annoyed only egged Finnick on like some crude form of encouragement.

Predictably, he jumped over the edge of the couch, jostling you as he landed with a thump. Leave it to Finnick to annoy you when you're in your most irritable mood.

To your surprise, he held out a throw blanket. The plushy material looked so out of place in his calloused hands, so rough from all his seafaring.

"Take it, ace." He nodded encouragingly. "I can't even imagine how hard it is being on that time of the month. Especially, being here and all, away from home, and with all that pressure on ya."

"How do you know..."

"I saw you eating like three pounds of chocolate last night." At your look of mortification, he hurried to add, "I couldn't sleep either, sweetheart. I wanted to join you, but I figured if I interrupted you, I wouldn't stand a chance at even making it to the arena tomorrow night."

You chuckled at that, finding him funnier than you'd like to admit. You reluctantly accepted the blanket he was still holding out to you.

"You know, ace, we can be allies in there." He was looking at you earnestly now, gaze piercing enough to cut through glass. "I don't want this to sound forward, but I would die for you."

He swallowed as you frowned up at him. "I...I-I don't have anyone who cares about me. I don't have anyone to go home to if I come out of this thing alive. But you..."

You surprised yourself with what came out of your mouth next, "I care."

Finnick raised his head slowly.

"I mean it, Fin," you continued. "You're...Look, I know I'm not the easiest person to like, but somehow you make me seem tolerable. I never thanked you for saving my ass during the interview." You rolled your eyes at the memory.

"But thank you for spinning our story into a love tale. If it weren't for you, I would probably have a negative amount of sponsors. I mean, who wants to root for the scrawny girl from the fishing district who can't even fish-"

Finnick's plush lips found yours, immediately silencing the million thoughts running through your mind. He pulled back, eyebrows raised as if he had surprised himself. If tomorrow never came, you would be glad for it.

You pulled him back to you, the collar of his sweater clutched tightly in your hands. He kissed you slow as if you were a delicate primrose blooming in early spring.

When you pulled back again, he eyed you, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

"I would root for the scrawny girl from four, who by the way, is the strongest swimmer I've ever seen." You suddenly felt yourself growing redder than channel bass. "And about that love tale, I didn't just spin it. I spoke from the heart."

"Oh, now you're done," you thwacked his chest, moving to stand up. "This does not mean you're getting in my pants tonight, Odair." You glanced at him pointedly, clutching his blanket to your chest.

You turned before you could notice that his answering smirk was more of a hopeful grin.

[writeplace-wrongtime]

The Bet

*cracks knuckles* fine, I'll do it myself.

Okay but seriously, I've only binge watched the first 6 seasons of criminal minds, so I'm probably a bit off with character personalities.

This turned into mostly the team finding out, so if anyone wants a part 2 with more scenes pre-reveal I'd love to write it!

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 3k

CW// brief mention of kidnapping case, use of y/n (i'm sorry), not beta'd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘When was the last time you saw Hotch leave before the rest of us?’

The most recent case had been a relatively short one, allowing the team to get back to Quantico reasonably early. A young man caught kidnapping local women, caught easily when he appeared on CCTV taking his latest victim. Three women, three days. All had minor injuries, but all were alive. It had been the ideal end to the case and no loss of life meant the paperwork was minimal.

Emily’s voice caught the attention of Derek, who followed her gaze to the elevator, where the Unit Chief stood waiting. He raised his eyebrows, trying to think back on the last few months of late nights, week-long cases and multiple middle of the night calls.

‘Not since before his divorce,’ Spencer piped up helpfully from behind his desk, packing away the days half-finished reports and case notes before he too looked up. ‘Hey, has anyone seen y/l/n? They mentioned going for food on the jet, and I know this really nice Indian restaurant not far from here, I was going to suggest we all go.’

Now that Emily thought about it, she hadn’t seen you after you’d gone to Hotch’s office to drop off your report. Barely five minutes later, Hotch had made a beeline for the elevator, leaving unusually early compared to normal, and then you too had disappeared.

‘Holy shit.’ The dots were connecting in her head. ‘They’re totally hooking up!’

This gathered the full attention of everyone in the room.

‘Who’s hooking up?’ Penelope had her bag in hand as she peeked in the door, drawn to the gossip like a moth to a flame.

‘Y/l/n and Hotch!’

‘Oh my god!’ Penelope was quick to rush over to the group now huddled around Emily’s desk.

‘No way,’ Derek was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. They’d been working as a team for years, there’s no way you and Hotch were in a secret relationship, and no one had noticed. ‘Come on, you really think they could have hidden something like that from us?’

Spencer shrugged, joining the conversation fully. ‘Hotch hid the fact that Emily was alive from all of us for months, so a secret relationship wouldn’t be that hard for him.’ Emily grimaced at the comparison, searching for any hint of bitterness in his tone, though found none. He had been hurt that they hadn’t trusted him to know the secret, but that hurt had faded over the couple years since Emily had returned. He offered her an apologetic smile, as if only realising what he’d said.

‘Want to make this more interesting?’ Quick to bring the conversation back to inane office gossip, Emily reached into her bag to pull out her purse. ‘100 dollars they’re doing it.’

‘Oh, you’re on. 100 they’re not.’ Derek placed two fifties on top of Emily’s two. Another two went down, and they both looked up to see Spencer sheepishly tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

‘I think they’ve been dating for a couple weeks now, I assumed everyone else had noticed.’

Quickly, Penelope had joined, and much to everyone’s surprise, so did Rossi. Penelope thought they’d just started dating, and Rossi thought it had been at least six months. JJ scooped up the cash, promising to be a neutral party to assure the winner got the whole lot. Plus, when this inevitably went wrong, she did not want to be involved in the fallout.

‘Okay, but how do we get them to admit-‘

‘Or not admit,’ Derek cut in.

‘Or not admit, what’s going on?’ Emily mused. Everyone’s eyes instantly went to Penelope.

‘Oh no, no, no-‘

Penelope’s office felt quite cramped with some many people in it, the space only meant to house one technical analyst, not one technical analyst and five nosey special agents. Five nosey agents who were all huddled around Penelope to peer at the screen over her shoulders.

‘Oh it does not feel right tracking their phones like this,’ Penelope’s fingers danced across the keys as she brought up both locations, ‘My powers should only be used for good, not- not snooping on our friends personal lives!’ Still, she let the trace run its course, displaying the address for the others to see.

‘That’s Hotch’s apartment.’ Spencer recognised the address immediately. Two little dots blinked on the screen, Hotch’s address hovering above them.

‘So they’re together, that doesn’t mean they’re hooking up.’ Derek knew his argument was weak, but hell he had 100 dollars riding on it.

‘Oh come on, they sneak out and go to Hotch’s apartment and you think they’re what, making cookies?’

‘Kids, stop fighting,’ Dave put a hand on both Derek and Emily’s shoulders. ‘Why don’t you just phone y/l/n, invite them for food, see what happens.’

‘You think they’d lie to us?’ Spencer asked, as Penelope pulled out her phone and dialled your number.

‘They’ve been lying to us about this for weeks, if you’re bet is right anyway,’ Emily nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back.

‘Technically it’s an omission not a lie, since none of us directly asked if they’re-‘

‘Shhh its ringing!’ The room fell to silence as Penelope put her phone to her ear.

~

Even though it had been a short case, you had been looking forward to getting back. And by how quickly Aaron had offered up his apartment for a movie night, he had been too. It was important to keep a clear line between boss and boyfriend while in the field, and it was only professional to stay in separate rooms during cases, so it felt good to have Aaron back in boyfriend mode, with comforting touches and quality time away from the office, away from the titles and roles that accompanied your positions at the BAU.

You had finished your report in record time. It was pure luck that everyone was too caught up in their own work to notice you slipping away. After dropping your report on Aaron’s desk, you had made a quick exit, waiting by Aaron’s car until he joined you in the car park. It had become routine to leave short gaps between your arrivals and exits, allowing the illusion that you had travelled separately, from different apartments, in different cars. It was a short ride back to his apartment.

You had only just settled back against Aaron’s side, a bowl of popcorn perched between your thighs when your phone buzzed.

‘Hey beautiful, where’d you run off to?’ Penelope’s sweet voice rang out from the other end of the line, ‘We’re going for food, you coming with?’

You glanced sideways at Aaron, who kept his eyes on the TV, though you knew he was listening in by the way his arm tensed around you. You gently squeezed the arm closest to you, relaxing further into his hold so he knew you weren’t planning on leaving.

‘Sorry Pen, not tonight, I’m, uh, not feeling great after today’s case…’ You trailed off, hoping she’d accept the excuse and you’d be home free. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that. There was pause, and you could’ve sworn you could hear hushed conversation. Must’ve been the rest of the team packing up to leave. You felt almost guilty that they were still at the office, when you’d left as soon as your own report was done.

‘Oh honey!’ Her voice was laced with sympathy, ‘That’s it, we’ll bring the food to you! Nothing like good food and company to cheer up the soul!’ Your head fell back against Aaron’s chest with more force than necessary. Curse her and her kindness.

‘No, no it’s okay, really-‘ You tried to prevent your voice from giving away your panic, ‘No need to go out of your way! Tell the guys I said enjoy!’

‘Its not out of our way at all! See you in twenty, gorgeous.’ The line went dead before you had a chance to respond. You could feel the vibrations of Aaron’s quiet laugh behind you, tilting your head back to look up at him.

‘You think this funny?’ Your words were pointed, but the smile on your lips gave away your hidden amusement. In lieu of an answer, he leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, the side of your neck, anywhere he could reach. You savoured the warmth of his lips against your skin, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as the kisses became more heated. Tilting your head back to give him easier access, you let out a disappointed whine when he instead detached from you, gently pushing you up until you were sitting straight.

‘They’re going to be at your apartment soon,’ He reminded you, giving your arm a squeeze before moving to stand. Your cheeks were flushed red, taking a few steadying breaths as he took the popcorn from your lap, placing it on the coffee table, before holding his hands out to you. Shooting him a mock glare, you resigned yourself to getting off the comfortable couch and getting your shoes on. As much as you loved your co-workers, so much that they were practically family, you really did not want to spend the evening with them, not when you could be curled up on the couch with Aaron, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

‘Shit,’ You nearly tripped over your untied laces in your hurry to turn, ‘My car’s still at the office, Aaron I don’t have time to get back there, get my car AND-‘ Your words were halted by the soft press of his lips on yours. Clearly, you weren’t the only one wishing you could stay. Melting against him, your hands found purchase on the solid expanse of his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft material of his t-shirt. He pulled back, just far enough so he could press his forehead against yours.

‘I’ll drive,’ His voice was quiet in the minimal space between you, ‘Tell them your car broke down and I offered you a lift home.’ You just hummed your agreement, too caught up in his closeness to really be paying full attention. Overwhelming warmth encompassed you as you breathed in the faint smell of his cologne, trying to catalogue the feeling in your mind as your panic disappeared with the gentlest of touches.

‘Or,’ You offered mildly, blinking up at him through your lashes, ‘We could just turn our phones off, lock the door, and deal with all of this tomorrow?’ Soft open-mouthed kisses were pressed to the column of his throat in between your words, hands climbing to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingertips teased the baby hairs at the base of his skull. You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer, even when his hands gripped at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he once again claimed your lips with his.

 It had been a tough decision, keeping the relationship from your team, but you had both ultimately decided that it was for the best, at least while things were still new. Then, six weeks had turned into six months, and six months into nearly a year. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a secret, and you nearly wanted the team to catch on. You’d met Jessica, and had a proper introduction to Jack, even going so far as to have gone to a few of his soccer practices at Jack’s insistence. You had been slowly moving your stuff into his room, small things like toiletries, pyjamas and a few spare work outfits. You spent more time at Aaron’s apartment than your own. You loved it. What you didn’t love, was having to hide it all from your friends.

‘We really should go,’ Aaron murmured against your lips, ‘At least you’ll get free food out of this.’

You laughed softly at that, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back, cheeks dusted pink. ‘I’d rather have you.’ A rare boyish grin was your only response, before he turned to grab his keys and you quickly tied your laces. You were soon on the familiar road home.

 ~

They didn’t wait around to see if you were rushing from Hotch’s apartment, instead piling into the back of Derek’s car haphazardly. All but JJ, who had familial responsibilities, and Rossi who just wanted to go home, managed to fit into one SUV.  If Rossi had been with them to take some of the blame, Derek might’ve even thrown on the sirens and lights. Instead, he skipped through a few orange lights, and just barely stuck to the speed limits. When they arrived at the Indian restaurant, Spencer was sent to pick up the order, being deemed least likely to do something stupid like flash his badge for quicker service. Emily followed him inside to help carry it all back to the car. Even without the badge, they managed to make it in and out in under ten minutes. Luck was on their side, getting them to your apartment just 25 minutes after Penelope had hung up on you.

When they came to a stop outside your apartment complex, your car wasn’t parked in its normal spot, and they had a moment of celebration before Spencer realised the light was on inside. A light that meant you had beat them.

They all had to hide their disappointment when you greeted them at the door, not showing any sign of having rushed from one apartment to the other. Being one of the closer apartments to the office, yours was often used as a base for nights out, girl’s nights, and team movie-nights. It was the team’s apartment more than it had ever been just yours. Moving seamlessly through your kitchen grabbing plates, cutlery and glasses, Emily and Penelope set to organising the food, while Spencer and Derek moved your coffee table to the centre of the room so everyone could sit around it. It warmed you to know they felt at home here.

‘I’ll have to get someone to look at it tomorrow,’ You sounded morose enough that Emily almost believed your “car trouble” story. She just hummed her commiserations before stealing some chicken from your Jalfrezi. As much as she’d hoped to catch you and Hotch in your lie – or omission as Spencer would remind her – she enjoyed spending time with you, and this had been the perfect excuse for a team night.

‘Hotch didn’t stick around after dropping you off?’ Emily asked casually, scooping up a mouthful of curry with the edge of a poppadom. If you noticed the groups sudden interest in your conversation you didn’t show it. You shook your head, pushing the thought of his hands on your waist and his lips on your skin, out of your mind.

‘He was just being nice, he probably has better things to be doing after a case than hanging out here.’

Derek had to hide his laugh with a cough. You frowned at him, but before you could question it, Emily dragged you back into a conversation about Sergio and how he stole her bagel the other day. She glared at Derek when you weren’t looking. Conversation flowed easily after that, and it wasn’t long before everyone was on their second helping of food and the booze cupboard had been ransacked.

‘Hey babygirl, you seeing what I’m seeing?’ Derek had just sat back down with his second full plate when he spotted it; the start of your downfall. He nudged Penelope, nodding his head toward you. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before rising nearly to her hairline. A sharp “oh my god” left her lips, before she covered her mouth. Just beneath the edge of your oversized t-shirt, a small red mark was blooming on your skin. It looked suspiciously like a hickey. A very, very new one at that. Penelope’s little outburst was quickly noted by Emily, who paused mid-conversation to notice what they had. Her shit-eating grin matched Derek’s perfectly.   

‘What?’ You frowned at her, quickly glancing at Spencer opposite you. He shrugged, offering no help.

‘Maybe Hotch stuck around for a little while after all?’ There was a teasing lilt to her tone as she reached out to tug your collar a little lower. You could feel heat rising up your neck into your cheeks, a beautiful shade of crimson. Covering the offending mark with your hand, you tried to come up with an excuse. Nothing came. Opening your mouth and then closing it a few times, you tried to look anywhere but at your friends. You were caught and you knew it. They knew it too.

‘Is there any point in me saying I burnt myself?’ You tried for a smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

‘Nope.’ Emily said, popping the “p”.

‘Aaron and I, we, uh…’ You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your blush darkening, as Penelope mouthed “Aaron!” at Emily, who practically giggled. You were going to have to restock your alcohol cupboard before they came round again. You took a breath, glancing around the room. All eyes were on you.

 ‘We’re dating.’

There was an immediate outburst of “oh my god!”s and “I knew it!”s. You had expected to feel awful when your secret was finally out in the open, but all you could feel was relief. Well, and a tinge of embarrassment. Warmth bubbled in your chest, looking around the room at your team, your family, knowing you didn’t have to hide it from them anymore.

‘What ya thinking about over there?’ Emily nudged your arm, a small tendril of guilt creeping through her. You’d obviously wanted to spend your evening with Hotch, and instead they’d dragged you away in a hurry, all just to invade your privacy. A small grin broke through your façade.

‘I’m thinking, seeing as it’s not a secret anymore, I can leave you losers and go back to spending the night with my boyfriend.’ A chorus of cheers followed your words, and someone (you suspected Emily) shouted “Go get some, girl!”.

Spencer wrinkled his nose at that. ‘Gross, remember that’s Hotch we’re taking about, he’s pretty much our work dad.’ His words caused a laugh to bubble in your chest, and you leaned over Emily to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

‘Guess that makes me your new work-mom!’ He made a big show of wiping your kiss from his cheek, but the small smile that followed gave away his charade.

‘What are you waiting for beautiful? Your man is waiting for you!’ Your wide grin echoed Penelope’s as she ushered you up and out of the living room. Your overnight gear was already at Aaron’s, so all you needed was your shoes and phone. You felt almost giddy as you threw the spare key to Spencer.

‘Don’t stay up too late kiddos!’

‘Hey, hold on a second,’ You glanced at Derek, who had started stacking plates to take to the kitchen, ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh… Y’know, only about 11… months.’ You shot them an abashed smile, before darting for the door as all hell broke loose.

‘You didn’t win the bet either!’ Emily and Derek’s argument floated out the door with you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Of course they had bet on it. You didn’t have it in you to care, instead shutting the door with a sound click. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you dialled Aaron’s number.

‘Hey handsome,’ You couldn’t help the smile that carried through in your words, ‘You want to finish that movie?’

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for telling my ex boyfriend I don’t miss him?

Tw for talk of sexual activity, emotional neglect

For context, I (19f) broke up with my boyfriend (18m) three months ago. We were going strong for a day short of nine months, but he was going to meet my family and my anxiety got in the way so I panicked and self sabotaged the best relationship I ever had. I know now I was a coward and I hurt him deeply, we’d even planned on attending the same university and starting a bookstore together

He really was the best thing to ever happen to me. He was unconditionally supportive of me when I deal with my emotionally manipulative home life, always told me how pretty I am, got me gifts and would binge my favorite shows so I could infodump to him. He’d been seriously neglected and borderline abused by his toxic ex boyfriend (an ex-mutual friend) but he always went above and beyond to make sure he wasn’t projecting onto me and our relationship. I was head over heels

But I broke up with him the day before our nine-month milestone because I was so sure that he would break my heart and leave me just like everyone else in my life had (and a week before we were to fly cross-country to meet my parents. I went alone.) And he told me in the many conversations we’ve had since then that it ruined his self-esteem and made him question his own self worth if he couldn’t even convince me that he was worth keeping around

And he said that he had planned to ask me to marry him when we got out of university in a couple years. He was so devastated over the phone, but I stuck with my decision to not date anyone during college. I needed to focus on myself and my own mental health… which I haven’t been good about doing (looking at my various online dating profiles)

While we were together, all of my friends were in their horny college phases and hooking up with anything that moved and they’d leave me out of friend activities because I was with my boyfriend. It made me feel alone and isolated and I’d cry to my boyfriend about it and only realize later how awful it was to complain to my significant other about how badly I wanted to be single. Yet, he never complained. I was awful to him

We’ve recently become friends again and we’ve started having casual sex. He has an almost unnaturally low libido compared to my super high one so when he calls me, I’m always at his front door. He’s always so sweet and caring, even after we’ve broken up, and he always checks in on me in the following days to make sure I’m okay. He’s undoubtedly my best friend and my romantic feelings for him have all pretty much died

Last night I spent the night at his place. As we were drifting off, I heard him mumble that he misses me and wrote it off as his sleepy pillow talk. We’d talked in length about never getting back together because of how I hurt him and I agreed it was for the best. This morning, he asked me if hed said anything strange and I didn’t bring it up until he kept nagging me and I told him what he’d said.

He started apologizing profusely and I said I wasn’t upset, because I’m not. I asked him if he meant it and he said he didn’t know. I said it’s fine, he can keep the answer to himself when he figured it out, I didn’t miss him. I ate the breakfast he made and left for work

Now I’m sitting at work and feeling really bad about it. I want to still be his friend and still sleep with him for as long as he’ll have me, but I also feel like I shut him down and hurt him again. I don’t know if my decision to put my foot down was the right one

So, tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[oakenshieldbaggins]

xedgin fic rec list

so because i binge read a ton of fics these last two months, i thought why not make a rec list if it can help people find out great fics.

i just wanted to say i came across so many good fics, like comparing to other fandoms i find the overall quality to be quite high. so what i'm trying to say is you guys are really talented and we're lucky to have you in this fandom. and thank you for sharing your work.

now the recs:

Post-Movie:

Three words everybody knows by violet_pencil

Speaking the words of an oath isn't what makes you a good paladin, and knowing how to tell lies is only part of what makes a great con man. Where do they find common ground? Well, turns out they both know how to commit to the bit.

Sunlight is a Kind of Burning by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Ed's excited to get his life back on track in the wake of saving Neverwinter. He's less excited at how a certain paladin keeps popping up everywhere he goes. Except for how he's starting to miss the guy when he's not around. Yeah, let's not think about that too hard.

a ballad from a reverie by forsworn

On a cold evening, the party stop to drink at a crowded tavern. Xenk tries to ignore the way his chest tightens when Edgin squeezes close to him. But that gets much harder when the tavern's bard starts singing a love song. About a paladin. And Edgin seems to recognise it…

tys hard to be a seinte in the cytie by indigostohelit

“The Material Planes are not realms of punishment,” said Xenk. “The gods no more deny us the warmth of physical pleasure than they would the warmth of the sun. They only warn us, through each, of the dangers that lie in excess.” “…Huh,” said Ed again, and, lacking further retort, grabbed up the new tankard and swigged deeply. Then he spat it across the bar. “This is water, though,” said Xenk peacefully. “You are going to have a hangover in the morning.”

Universal Glue by Korwwa

Edgin and Xenk get stuck in a glue trap. The close-quarters situation forces Edgin to decide if succumbing to the charms of certain overpowered paladin is more likely to ruin, or elevate, the plan of his life.

Polyphonic by Geese_In_Flight

Ed can’t stand Xenk. Xenk keeps showing up anyway. It’s not entirely clear how that became everyone else’s problem.

Muses lost and found anew by Mikhail

Edgin Darvis never considered himself to be a hero. Of course, he was full of dreams and ideals back when he was still young. He wanted to save the world. But the world, as it turned out, didn’t really want to be saved. Instead, it barged into Edgin’s life uninvited and made him a widower, a thief, and an escaped convict. As he was looking back at his life and naivete, he couldn’t feel but contempt and bitterness. That is until he crossed paths with Xenk Yendar, a paladin whose sword was only nearly as strong as his righteousness. Confronted with Xenk’s tragic past, the bard realized they were both touched by the same evil. Before he could dwell on some uncomfortable truths, however, Xenk disappeared from his life just as suddenly as he first appeared. When they meet for the second time, it’s clear the two of them have much more in common than they first thought. Well, it’s clear to everyone except for them. The question is, are they going to realize this before it’s too late?

in the absence of truth by floralprintshark

Five times Ed says that he hates Xenk and one time he doesn't.

Perception Check (Roll for Romance) by kaydeefalls

"I bet Xenk fucks like a metronome, too. You know." Holga makes a highly suggestive, repetitive gesture. "In, out. In, out. No variation. Same exact rhythm every time. Boring." Edgin stares at her, torn between horror and fascination. "You've really thought about this, huh?" (So has he. Unfortunately.)

give me two damn minutes (and I'll be fine) by PH03N1X_360

Xenk Yendar is a hero. It’s his job, his identity, his [life]. It comes as easily as breathing. Saving children, fighting hordes of undead, it’s always come naturally to him. As each new challenge arises, people look to him to protect them. The warmth of their gazes never fail to fill him with pride. No matter how many scars he acquires, how many nights the horrors of his past rouse him from sleep, or how many people he fails to save in the process, it is always worth the price. Yet sometimes, when the darkness around him feels too oppressive and tight bandages make his bones ache, he wonders how much more he can take before he cracks under the pressure. Or: Xenk sees the Beckoning Death spell from afar. Even upon realizing the party took care of it, it still fucks him over severely... not that he would show it. Edgin knows a mask when he sees one.

Falling For The First Time by Powderpuff

In retrospect, falling in love with Edgin was inevitable. There was no recourse for Xenk; no guild nor court to appeal to, and even Ilmater could not return his property to him, nor Ed himself; for you cannot return something you do not know you have.

O happy dagger! This is thy sheath by Kabbal (Aledane)

"Ed wants to bash his face in with his lute, just to shatter that perfect, flawless skin, see if there’s flesh and blood running under that pristine marble. He wants to flee to the end of the world, to never be reminded of the existence of a being who seems to never have failed at anything, ever. He also wants to crush his lips against his, cling to that steady neck and feel the weight of all that perfection over him, spearing him like it could make him holy‒ Hm. Strange thought to have. Let’s forget it ever existed."

Affection and Love by AkataLily

Edgin is affectionate towards Xenk. Not love, affectionate, because those are two very different things! Xenk is oblivious and uninterested, that is, until Edgin fucks up and the cat is suddenly out of the bag. Things get akward, then they get complicated, but eventually, we all have to admit what goes on in our hearts.

Winning Prizes for Rotten Judgment by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

In which Ed admits he's in love with Xenk, woos Xenk, and sleeps with Xenk, all in completely the wrong order. To be fair, it's only half his fault.

keystone by weatheredlaw

key·stone noun | a central stone at the summit of an arch, locking the pieces together. or: edgin dies, but there's magic for that. holga and xenk make good on a thirty-five year old favor to bring him back from the other side.

So Deep As the Love I'm In by Geese_In_Flight

Holga takes a step forward and claps Ed on the shoulder sympathetically, which is a terrible sign. “Swept you right off your feet, did he?” she asks, with a grin. Five times Xenk courted Ed, and one time Ed decided to take matters into his own hands.

the weight of fingers pressing deep by forsworn

When Xenk slips his fingers into Edgin's mouth during sex, they're both surprised by how good it feels.

you'll find us in the meadowland by audenrain

He was standing at Xenk’s desk, tucked into the corner and lined by shelves stacked with holy texts. Not his most valuable, of course - he wouldn’t be so careless as to keep the most precious of his collection here - but any one of them would feed a hungry man for a few days, at least. And yet this man wasn’t hungry, and he was no ordinary thief. Xenk judged this not only by the strong slope of his shoulders and broad back and the fine weave of his coat but also by the fact that he had recently been awarded the highest honours the Lord of Neverwinter could bestow. No, Edgin could want for nothing; even he could not have spent his rewards so quickly. There was only one explanation. This was an affliction of the soul.

To Touch The Divine by New1Romantic

Xenk asks for Edgin's help to retrieve an evil artefact from a cult. The fact that the cult is definitely just a front for the elite of Waterdeep to have kinky sex is, presumably, just happenstance.

Freely given (Wanted) by sb_essebi

Ed can’t. He can’t anymore. Can’t take the fervour in Xenk’s words, the shine in his eyes, the way the light of the sunset plays across his skin. He’s just so beautiful at sunset, Xenk. He is. To the point of unfairness, to the point it makes Ed almost angry, makes him want to cry, to scream. Ed kisses him. Or: Ed steals a kiss. Xenk shows him why he needn't have.

Edgin Needs to Get Laid and Edgin Gets Laid by Isoltan

There was a pause. "And that's when you started the one night stands," Holga said, only a hint of a question in her voice. Xenk raised his tankard in her direction and took a long swig. "You have sexual desire?" Simon asked. Doric turned to him and exploded, "Jesus, do you ever think before you speak?" "Tell the truth, you thought he was celibate too. Edgin sure did!" Simon said, gesturing to Edgin. "Hey, leave me out of this," Edgin said. "Exactly!" Simon continued. "Tell me, out of the two of them, you'd have pegged Edgin as the celibate and XENK as the whore!" -----------‐ Very loose f*ck-or-die fic. Basically, Edgin's magic needs to improve and the group decides he needs to get laid. But he reveals he's demi and can only be intimate with people he trusts. This was meant to be a one-off but I got caught up with the group's banter.

this distance between us by forsworn

Xenk and Edgin have to share a bed. It’s not even a big bed. The perfect time for Xenk to have a nightmare…

Origin Point series by Neyiea

“It wasn’t a risk. I knew that if I jumped you would catch me.” Xenk’s pinched expression becomes thoughtful, then turns serious. “I see,” he intones solemnly. “I am honored to have earned your trust.”

close to the skin by forsworn

Edgin's going undercover; Xenk's determined to make him look respectable. But Edgin finds submitting to a flat-razor shaving at those steady hands to be far more intense than he expected.

Solitary Burdens by cupiscent

Edgin's wife died years ago, but he's only just now letting go. He can't talk about it with any of the others, but Xenk - aggravatingly - understands. Perhaps neither of them need to carry these burdens alone.

in for a silver by weatheredlaw

Edgin was, at the very least, two things: a great kisser, and a phenomenal liar. or: xenk gets hit by something weird in the jungle. edgin lends a hand.

Canon Divergence (happens during the movie):

We Are So (Not) Breaking Up by murdertrashbabyrat

Edgin isn’t mad because of the idea of a kind Thayan, he’s mad because it’s Xenk Yendar his lightly insufferable not-ex. They didn’t break up because they were never together thank you very much Holga, so Xenk is his…his something that isn’t his anymore. It’s fine he’s not dwelling on it he has to get his wife back and stop thinking about the man he’s been sharing a bed with for years. Denial is a hell of a drug OR they are exes when they meet up again in the movie

AUs:

A Cherry When It's Blooming by Geese_In_Flight

Lord Yendar, once a paladin of Ilmater, has been called back to Waterdeep in the aftermath of his father’s death. Upon his arrival, he discovers he must reckon with an untrustworthy executor, an estate in shambles, and a wholly unexpected stipulation in his father’s will. Edgin Darvis is trying to find the one big score that will let him build back a life that went off the rails years ago. When he hears the rumors that a young and inexperienced Lord Yendar has come back to town, he knows just what he has to do.

Romance in the time of LoveChat by cicia3

What's worse than being a loser writer reduced to releasing third-rate romance novels for Forge Publishing? Being an uninspired writer with three months' back rent to pay. Driven by desperation, Edgin, a single father who's also perhaps juuust a tad too much anchored in the past, signs up on the nation's largest dating site. The goal? To find a character unique enough to inspire him for his new novel. And then Xenk Yendar shows up.