#I am once again asking DC to let them kiss

[spandexinspace]

One man and his very small, super-specific harem.

Inspired by this:

[joocomics]

boy toy

day 12 — spit kink w/ jooyeon ⌞⌗ kinktober ⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 fuckboy!jooyeon x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 1.8k

contains: college au, switch!reader, spit kink, dry humping, dirty talk, slight degradation (m!rec), banter, name calling (slut/whore once)

[ kinktober masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to put my hands on you for so long,” Jooyeon admits as his palms stay full and busy with your boobs, “you don’t give in easily, pretty girl.”

And he doesn’t give up easily.

Lee Jooyeon has used all his signature skills and fuckboy tricks on you - in your dms and in the free minutes between classes. You were close to giving in into his charms known to the majority of girls around several times, but you managed to resist. Fortunately, after your first year of college you stopped sharing classes. If that wasn’t the case, you’re not so sure you would’ve lasted to keep your distance from him this long.

One thing you promised to yourself before walking into his dorm room is to not let him turn you into one of his sex toys. You’re not going to be just another name in his never ending wish list.

Sat on his lap, you pull your dress over your head and toss it to the floor - casually, as if you’ve been here before and you’ve done it a million times. The obvious way his eyes are tracing every inch of your body doesn’t stay unnoticed.

The longer they stare, the more his mind gets drunk on the sight that he’s been craving to see so bad. Now, that it’s finally in front of him he doesn’t know where to touch first. Where are you the most sensitive? He needs to know as soon as possible.

“Not used to have a girl not run into your arms at the very first smile of yours?” You run fingertips through his blonde hair as he gazes into your face with intrigue.

“Honestly, I’m not, no.” He laughs and even his little chuckles sound flirtatious.

He leans in, keeping his hands moving along the bare skin of your back, and kisses you. There’s an electrifying thrill you can taste in his kiss. It makes your legs feel like jelly despite sitting still.

His fingers slide down to your waist only to sneak underneath your panties and the sudden grip on your ass provoke your hips to roll.

“Shit, baby—“ he stops his lips for a second to breathe, “you’re so hot.” He quickly resumes the kiss with even more greediness. His mouth separates yours with bigger force, but the nice rhythm is still there, turning you on and tempting you to search for friction against his crotch. “And needy,” he adds soon after with a prideful smile.

When he aims for another kiss your hand stops him. His eyebrows knit together with confusion as you look at each other intensely.

“What is it? You regretting this?” He asks after removing your fingers that were keeping him away. “I’ll make it worth your time, doll.”

“No, no,” you shake your head before tilting it to the side. Your eyes, full of lust and sinful thoughts, glance at his reddish lips before moving back up. “I want to spit in your mouth.”

Jooyeon remains silent for a moment, speechless.

“You do?”

“Yeah, are you not into these things?” You ask slightly surprised. You’ve always thought guys like him who think with their dicks would be into some stuff…

“No, I am.” Jooyeon huffs, placing his hands on the bed. His back rests against the wall where there’s an AC/DC poster above his head as he keeps an eye on you. He doesn’t seem that confident anymore. “It’s just that usually girls beg me to spit on them.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” You pull him by the shirt, wanting him close again. His lips are parted a little as you wrap a hand around his throat; you feel the adrenaline rush shooting through your body from your bold moves. “Open.”

Jooyeon looks up at you. His expression is a mixture of surprise and contemplation. But there’s something else too… He also seems like he’s daring you to do it. Maybe he thinks you’re all bark and no bite.

You expect him to laugh at you. To say no. To move your hand and spit on you instead, mocking you for trying to be something you’re not. Who are you to tell him what to do?

But he only lowers his head back some more and exposes his mouth.

You roll your tongue, salivating as much as you can, then part your lips a bit while guiding them above his own.

Jooyeon stills in the same position, head tilted back, hands sinking into the mattress as your saliva pools into his mouth. Soon enough he shuts his eyes, letting the thrill flow in his body - the thrill that comes with realising what he just let you do to him. It comes with a bit of shame, but more than that… arousal.

There’s no point in denying that it’s turning him on.

“Now close it.” You order him without letting go of his neck. You watch him follow your instructions on the instant. “Swallow, baby.”

You sense the motion of his adam’s apple against your palm before you catch him licking his lips.

“Sweet.” He draws out the word and his voice makes it sound seductive.

“I’m surprised no girl has done this to you before.” You press yourself into his stiffening crotch and see him suppress a groan so obviously. Your clit is aching for stimulation, but you quickly remind yourself why you’re here. “I’m sure many of them want to spit in your face for treating them like shit.”

“Why are you being mean now, baby?” His hands grip your ass again to force another motion from your hips. He’s hardening more and more each second despite your frustrating attitude. “You can’t really think I’m a bad guy or you wouldn’t be here rubbing your sweet pussy on my cock right now.”

“Maybe I like bad guys.” You simply say while still being tempted to feel the friction of his pants against you one more time. You’re throbbing. “Maybe I like turning them into my toys.”

“That won’t happen with me, darling.” He laughs, amused at the thought. “Take it off.”

His warning eyes glance down at your bra. His voice sounds like a warning too so he must be throbbing as well.

“You take it off.”

Your head falls to the side as you rest palms on his knees. And wait.

Jooyeon laughs scornfully at your stubborn attitude, but decides to go along with your game. He’s been wanting to get in your pants for so long, he can’t fuck up now and ruin his chances to fuck you.

He takes the opportunity to show you that he still has the upper hand - he moves your lips apart with one swift motion of his tongue while reaching behind your back. The swirling, the crashing, the little sounds you can’t fight back and end up escaping your throat... they amplify the sexual tension around you, making your skin warm against his chest.

As expected, he removes the bra with no problem as he’s done this many times before, while simultaneously dominating your mouth with ease.

With no lace to hide your breasts anymore, you grip Jooyeon’s jaw to force his head back, and take a deep breath.

For your surprise, he looks into your eyes first, because they’re so much more glossy than they were a moment ago, and then at your hard nipples.

“Fuck, I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

He bites his lower lip as he smirks; his palms get a hold of your boobs the moment you press into his boner and keep moving the way you would do if you were riding him.

You can’t suppress the urge for longer.

“Shit, wait—“ his hands drop in a hurry to unzip his pants.

“No, keep them on.”

He doesn’t get to say anything, because you lift his chin up, leaving him only to blink weakly at you as heavy breaths leave his lips in the rhythm of your body.

He knows what’s going through your mind and his open mouth anticipates the moment your saliva is going to fall onto his tongue again.

“Do it.” His voice sounds husky and pleading. “I want to fuck you so bad already, but fuck, do it.”

While the string reaches him, your hips don’t stop rocking back and forth, causing hoarse sounds to erupt from his throat as the stimulation grows higher.

You can’t see it, but he’s staining his underwear, twitching every now and then when he hears another arousing moan from you once your lips close.

The spit slides onto the surface of his tongue, but it doesn’t feel enough. You spit again, and then a third time which follows up with him licking up a string hanging from your bottom lip. He slurps your saliva before turning it into an open mouthed kiss. Moisture trickles down your chin as you whimper against his lips from feeling something inside you flowing through your veins - it’s warm, startling and buzzing.

You weren’t expecting nor planning on having an orgasm tonight.

“Holy shit,” Jooyeon exclaims, staring down puzzled at his lap. Puzzled in an astonished way, and staring more concretely at your panties as you stay still. “Baby girl, you keep surprising me tonight.”

He adjusts his clothed cock that’s so hard he feels like it’s about to burst any minute now if he doesn’t do something about it.

“We’ll have so much fun together,” he smirks, letting his hand slide up your hip.

You’re about to say something as you wait for your breathing to normalise itself, but your attention shifts elsewhere when you feel something sticking to your hand.

You look up and you freeze once you see your palm glued to the AC/DC poster on the wall. The paper is a little bit ripped.

You leave Jooyeon’s lap and pick up your dress. You don’t mention the poster. He has eyes so he’s going to find out himself.

“Wait! He jumps off the bed after you get dressed and head towards the door. “We didn’t have sex!”

“No, we didn’t.” You turn around and see the shock all over his handsome face. “Should’ve we had sex?”

“Isn’t this why you left the party with me?” He asks bewildered. There’s a gradual, but very obvious snotty change in his tone.

“Not really. I’ve heard enough stories about your dick so... I don’t feel intrigued enough to have sex with you, sorry.”

The statement about the stories is true; the second one - a lie. You do your best to not look away from his glare as you add:

“Oh, your secret is safe with me.”

“You like runnin’ your mouth, don’t you?” He steps closer. “You act like a whore around me all night then come here to spit in my face and act like a superior bitch... Let me guess. I’ve fucked one of your girlfriends now the slut is crying over me and you’re here for vengeance or some shit.”

“I don’t have any friends.” You simply answer and walk out the door.

Seconds later, as you walk down the hallway you hear the same door open, then Jooyeon’s sulky voice shouting.

“You owe me a new AC/DC poster!”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[hazza-bear-care]

Happy Family

Aaron comes home from a case to find you and Jack sleeping.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief mentions of case details, FLUFF

~~~~~~~~~~~

The week had gone on too long and the case was nowhere close to being solved, but all Aaron could think about was going home. Knowing that you and Jack were safe in DC was the only thing keeping his head on his shoulders.

"Daddy, when are you coming home?" Jack mumbled, sleep evident in his voice. He was just about to go to sleep for the night, the time difference messing with the nightly phone call he gets with Aaron.

"I don't know, buddy, but I promise the second I find out, I'll tell Y/N to tell you. I hope you sleep well. I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy." Jack muttered, his words strung together as sleep finally took over.

"It's past midnight. What was he still doing awake?" Aaron asked once Y/N was on the phone. He wasn't criticizing his girlfriend for keeping Jack awake, he was just asking out of curiosity.

"He really wanted you to come home today, Aaron. He talked all day about the new dinosaur exhibit at the Smithsonian and how he only wanted to go with you." Y/N explained, stifling a yawn in the process.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do that with him today. I know how excited he was for it. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise." Aaron finalized. He'd be home on the next flight, solved case or not.

"Don't rush on our account. You catch this guy and get home to us safely. That means no bullet holes, Hotchner." Aaron smiled at the joke before quickly saying his goodbyes and returning to his team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Y/N?" A soft voice called, shaking her from her position on the couch. As she opened her eyes, she was met with Jack's soft brown eyes.

"Hey, Jackers. Why are you awake?" Y/N asked as she sat up, pulling the child up onto the couch with her.

"I had a bad dream. Daddy didn't come home, the bad guy hurt you, and he was coming to hurt me when I woke up." Jack answered quietly, chin wobbling as tears began to pool in his eyes.

"Oh, honey! I'm sorry you had a nightmare like that, and I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up. Do you wanna watch some TV?" Jack nodded as Y/N wiped the tears that had fallen on his cheeks. She put on a re-run of FRIENDS because it was the only thing on at 2 am, and got Jack situated on her lap before he fell asleep again.

Three hours later, Aaron came in to a dark apartment, the only noise in the place was the muffled sounds of Spongebob Squarepants playing on the TV. Aaron's heart melted at the sight of Y/N and Jack curled up on the couch, a throw blanket haphazardly covering the two of them. He let them be for a bit, opting to change out of his suit and into some more comfortable clothes before coming back into the living room to his small family. He gently pressed kisses to both of their foreheads and readjusted the blanket that had fallen to the floor in the short time that Aaron had been changing. He clicked off the TV, which caused Y/N to shift suddenly.

"Shh, go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up." Aaron murmured.

"Welcome home." Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around Jack as she fell back into a dreamless sleep.

Aaron snapped a few pictures of his sleeping family before grabbing a spare blanket and pillow, making himself comfortable on the floor of the living room so he could be near his family.

As long as Y/N and Jack were safe, Aaron was happy. Aaron was home.

[sequinsmile-x]

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

“We know about you and Agent Hotchner.” 

“Oh,” she says softly, clearing her throat as she bites the inside of her cheek and attempts to read their reactions, “You know?” 

Her father nods solemnly, the same look on his face he’d had when she accidentally broke a priceless vase when she was 9. It makes her feel like a teenager, like a kid who didn’t know any better, not like a woman just shy of her 23rd birthday. 

Emily and Aaron's love story, and how they never let go of each other's hand.

-x-

Hi friends,

This is a birthday present for the lovely @prentissinred!! I am forever grateful that this fandom and our mutual love of these idiots brought you into my life <3 And, here's hoping we get to hang out again at some point this year.

Love you very much, and I hope you enjoy another instalment of young hotchniss!

-x-

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Estrangement from parents

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

September 1993

She feels anxiety spark in her chest the moment she turns onto her parent’s driveway, the oppressive nature of the forcing her to blow out a shaky breath even from the other side of the gate. 

Even though she was living back in DC after finishing her masters she didn’t see them very often. Their relationship had always been strained, her resistance to be controlled like they wanted to control her, to fit perfectly into their lives, something she hadn’t grown out of once she left her teenage years like they hoped she would.

If she had a choice, she wouldn’t even be there this evening. She’d be at Aaron’s place, snuggled under a blanket on his couch as they ate Chinese food from the restaurant down the street from his apartment building. She’d be spending the evening with someone who loved her for who she was, not who they wanted her to be. But her dad had called her, something that was even rarer than her mother calling, and he’d asked her to come to dinner, an edge to his voice she didn’t remember hearing before, and her curiosity had won out.  

She punches in the key for the gate without thinking about it. The number had always been the same, something that had driven every security professional her mom had ever hired crazy. It makes her smile as she thinks of her boyfriend, of how he’d still mention the code to the gate, his dry sense of humour something that never failed to make her laugh, and she shakes her head. She wishes he could be here with her and be by her side, but her parents didn’t know that they were together and, even though they’d been together for over a year, she didn’t want to tell them yet. 

Part of it was a desire to protect him. He thought he understood how the world she had come from worked, that he’d figured it all out in the few months he worked for her parents on behalf of the FBI. 

She frowns when the gate doesn’t open, and the small light under the number pad flashes red, she puts in the number again, making sure she pays attention this time, and the same thing happens. 

“If that’s a sign I should just turn around and leave I don’t know what is,” she grumbles to herself before hitting the intercom, tucking her hair behind her ears as she waits for it to click through. 

“Hello?” 

She smiles softly at the sound of the housekeeper's voice, “Vanessa, hi, it’s Emily. The gate doesn’t seem to be working.” 

“Miss Prentiss,” Vanessa answers, “I’ll open it for you now.” 

“Thank you.” 

The gate is almost agonisingly slow as it opens, but she takes the time to try and centre herself, sighing as she briefly checks her reflection in the rearview mirror. She makes sure her lipstick isn’t smudged, smiling softly at herself as she thinks of the gentle kiss Aaron had pressed against her lips before she left his place, and then she sits back in her seat and drives further up the driveway. 

By the time she’s sitting in her parent's living room, her anxiety increases, mixed with the usual sense of irritation she had whenever she was here. This place had never been home to her, not really. They’d rarely spent more than a few months here at a time when she was young, moving from country to country based on her mother’s placements, so she’d never had a chance to settle, to feel relaxed here. Ironically, the longest she’d ever been here at one time was the summer between her undergrad and her master's. 

The summer she met Aaron. 

She’s pulled out of her train of thought as her parents walk into the room, and she stands up, hugging them both as they exchange greetings, and then she sits back down on the couch and they sit on the couch opposite. 

“How are you, Emily?” Elizabeth asks as she sits down, “It’s been a while since you called.”

Emily smiles tightly, stopping herself from replying that phones called both ways, that she never called her either. Instead, she clears her throat, and takes some sort of twisted comfort in the fact she’d made out with Aaron more than once where her parents were currently sitting.

“I’m good,” she answers, using the skills they’d taught her when she was young against them, her ability to say so much by saying so little was one of the things they had passed on, one of the ways they’d so often have conversations without really saying anything at all. “I got confirmation I start the academy in January.” 

She knew they didn’t approve of her decision to join the FBI and their reactions confirm it, the slight tightening of her mother’s shoulders and the way her father sits up a little straighter telling her all it ever needed to. They thought it was below her and had said as much, claiming that the education they had paid for could offer her so much more than the career she was choosing, but it didn’t deter her. 

It was part of the reason she was hesitant to tell them about her and Aaron’s relationship. She knew they’d take it to mean that she was doing this purely because of him, that she was being led by her almost 30-year-old boyfriend to follow in his footsteps, and the thought of it drove her crazy, another reminder that they didn’t know her at all.

When had she ever done something because someone else wanted her to? 

“I see,” her father says, clearing his throat as he looks at his daughter, “Is there anything else you need to tell us?” 

She stares at them for a moment, her heart skipping a beat in her chest as she licks her lower lip, and she shakes her head, feigning innocence, “What else would there be?” 

Her mother sighs and looks over at her father before she looks back at Emily, a flicker of disappointment that she was familiar with and something new, something she couldn’t put a name to. 

“Emily,” Elizabeth says, clasping her hands together in her lap to stop herself from picking at her nails, a habit Emily had picked up from her when she was small, “We know about you and Agent Hotchner.” 

For a moment, it feels like the air is sucked out of the room. She stares at her parents as she tries to think of what to say, already aware it is too late to deny it. She knows that they hadn’t been particularly subtle over the summer, and it wasn’t entirely a shock to learn that her parents had found out about her relationship with the man they’d hired to co-ordinate security at the house whilst they were away, but she’d wanted to tell them on her terms. 

Emily had never been close to either of her parents, and she didn’t have a relationship with them where she shared details of her life when she didn’t need to. But she was serious about Aaron, the 15 months they’d been together now largely in secret some of the happiest of her life, and she knew it was time to come clean. 

“Oh,” she says softly, clearing her throat as she bites the inside of her cheek and attempts to read their reactions, “You know?” 

Her father nods solemnly, the same look on his face he’d had when she accidentally broke a priceless vase when she was 9. It makes her feel like a teenager, like a kid who didn’t know any better, not like a woman just shy of her 23rd birthday. 

“Yes, Emily,” he says, “We know.” 

The nerves she’d felt earlier as she walked into the house make themselves known again, making her chest tight and capturing the breath she’d sucked in, holding it in place, as she watches her parents look at each other before they look back at yer, both privy to something she does not yet know about. 

___

He’d only popped out to get ice cream.

Aaron knew she’d be upset and irritated when she came home from her parents, she always was, and he realised he was out of any of the sweet food she liked so he’d gone out to get it. He sighs as he steps out of the store and sees that it has started pouring rain since he got there. He tucks the ice cream under his arm and starts to jog towards his building, grateful that he’d only gone to the place a block away. He frowns as he gets closer to his building, his pace increasing when he sees her sitting on the steps, seemingly unaware she is getting soaked to the bone. 

“Em?” He asks, coming to a stop in front of her, sitting on the step next to her when she doesn’t react, not caring about the material of his pants sticking to his skin. She jumps slightly as he cups her chin to make her look at him, seemingly only just realising he was there, “What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asks, encouraging her to stand, his hand on her back, “You’ve got a key you could have gone in.” 

She nods absentmindedly, rain dripping down the slope of her nose, her dark hair plastered to her skin, “Yeah, sorry.” 

His concern only deepens, swirling in his gut as he leads her up the stairs, his hand never leaving her back as he almost drops the ice cream whilst he digs his keys out of his pocket, “Nothing to apologise for sweetheart,” he assures her, kissing the side of her head, “Let’s get you inside.” 

She’s silent as they walk to his apartment and he doesn’t push her, worst-case scenarios floating through his mind as he unlocks his front door. He puts the pint of ice cream down on the side table and shrugs off his coat, letting it drop to the floor as he leads her to the couch. He pulls the blanket off the back of it and wraps it around her as he encourages her to sit down. 

“Aaron, the couch I’ll ruin-”

“I don’t care about that,” he says, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his knees on either side of hers as he reaches for her hands, wincing at how cold her skin is, “You’re freezing.” 

She chuckles dryly and nods as he covers her hands with his, easily enveloping them as he tries to press warmth into her skin. She’d almost loved his hands, the comfort they gave her. They were one of the first few things she’d noticed about him, how large they were, how they made his cell phone look like nothing more than a child’s toy. She remembers the first time she held his hand, the first time she felt the strength she’d spent weeks imagining shifting under his skin as she led him out of a party her parents were hosting. 

She’d kissed him that night, the first of many, the start of a new chapter of her life. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she says, only now realising how cold she felt, shivering violently under the blanket she’d napped under more than once. She swallows thickly as her eyes meet his, concern and love swirling in his gaze and she blows out a slow breath, “My parents know about us.”

He raises his eyebrows, unable to control his surprise, “Oh,” he says, still rubbing his hands against hers, “I thought you weren’t going to tell them yet.” 

He didn’t blame her for not wanting to tell them. He knew their relationship was difficult, that it always had been, and he never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. He knew what it was like to have the parents you wanted, to not be able to share things with them. In a strange way, he thinks it’s one of the reasons he and Emily worked so well. They understood each other in a way so few people did, their childhoods wildly different yet painted with similar themes.

“I didn’t tell them,” she says, pressing her lips together and shaking her head, choking on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “They already knew.” 

They fall into silence and he watches her carefully, how she shrinks back into herself, her face turned to press into the blanket around her shoulders as she breathes in the scent of it, “I’m assuming because of your general demeanour it didn’t go well.” 

She laughs and shakes her head, “No, it didn’t go well,” she looks at him, “They…they told me if I didn’t break up with you they’d cut me off. Take away the trust fund.” 

“What?” He asks, his grip on her tightening, anger and irritation licking at his insides as he clenches his teeth. It seemed absurd, ludicrous that they’d threaten such a thing to their only child just because she dared to be happy in a way they didn’t understand. 

She nods, “They think it’s best if I end up with someone more like me,” she says, shaking her head, “And they live in a world where money is at the centre of everything so…” she shrugs, “I guess that’s how they think they can control me.” 

The silence is awkward for a moment as he tries to read her, tries to figure out if her demeanour is because she has to break up with him and doesn’t know how to. He knew exactly how much money was in that trust fund. She’d told him once, casually mentioning the millions of dollars she had to her name and how it paid for her rent, how one day she hoped it would pay for a house she would buy. Something she considered to be full circle, using the money that had meant she hadn’t ever had a home to get one. 

“What did you tell them?” He asks carefully, making sure his voice is even and soft. He wouldn’t blame her if she made that choice. Haley had left him for a whole lot less than potentially losing her parents and more money than most people saw in their lives. 

“I told them to go fuck themselves,” she says bluntly., her eyes finally meeting him, a desperate laugh escaping her chest as she shakes her head.

He laughs too, her responses shocking him as he shakes his head, “Em-”

“I literally said that to them,” she says, cutting him off, unaware he’d even started to speak, “I told them to go fuck themselves,” she repeats, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling, “You should have seen my mother’s face.” 

Aaron can’t explain the guilt that washes over him, hot and overwhelming as he looks at her, her hair still stuck to her skin as she sits wide-eyed in front of him, “Sweetheart,” he says carefully, unhooking one of his hands from around hers and cupping her chin, “I’d understand if…”

She feels her heartbreak as he drifts off, the words he hadn’t said hanging in the air around them, heavy and suffocating. She knows he means it, that he’d happily accept her breaking up with him because of her parent's ultimatum, and she shifts forward so she’s closer to him, one of her hands on his cheek.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” she says firmly, the relief on his face palpable, only making her ache more, “And it’s not even about us really, or you,” she says, “They would have done this no matter what, used this as leverage over me for my whole life if I ever did something they didn’t agree with. This way I’m free.” 

“To be who you want to be.” 

She smiles at how he’s phrased it, how he’s centred her in it and not himself or their relationship, “Yeah,” she says, pressing her lips together as she nods, “I can be who I want to be,” she blows out a shaky breath and rests her forehead against his, “I’ll have to move out of my place. Even if I could find a way to continue to afford it…I don’t want them to know where I live.” There were so many things she hadn’t even thought of yet, so many details she’d have to consider and change now she no longer had contact with them, but a place to live was her main concern, “I don’t know if you’re ready for a roommate-”

“Sweetheart,” he says, cupping the back of her head as he pulls back to look at her, “You practically live here anyway. I was actually trying to figure out how to ask you to move in.” 

She raises her eyebrows at him, her eyes shining with tears he knows she’ll wait until they are in bed to shed, the comfort of his embrace and the safety of his bedroom the place where she could finally let go. “Really?” 

He smiles at her disbelief, at the way she frowns at him and he nods, “Really. Just ask Dave, I’ve been asking him for advice,” he kisses her cheek and then stands up, encouraging her to do the same, “Come one, let's go get you in the shower and then into bed, I don’t want you getting sick.” 

She nods and lets him lead her to the bathroom, her head against his shoulder as they walk together, both of them aware that they had so much more to talk about, but that it could wait. 

In the morning, they find the melted pint of ice cream on the side table, and Emily doesn’t think she’s ever loved someone as much as she loves him when he goes to buy her some more.

___

January 1998

Aaron chuckles as Emily crawls under the covers of their bed, sighing loudly as she sits next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. 

“Long day?” He asks jokingly, as if they hadn’t spent the whole day together, and he presses a kiss to her forehead

She hums as she raises her eyebrow, “I don’t know how you’ve worked with Gideon and Dave as long as you have.” 

He smiles and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, making sure to stroke her cheek as he does so, “They aren’t that bad.” 

She’d only recently joined the BAU, a decision that had been delayed by the Section Chief being unsure if she wanted a husband and wife working together on the same team. Ultimately, her track record, and what she’s sure was not a small amount of meddling from Dave, spoke for itself and her transfer from Counterterrorism was approved. 

“Whatever you say, honey,” she grumbles. She watches as he clenches his hand in and out of a fist a few times, his brow furrowing as he suppresses a groan of pain. “Is your hand hurting?” She asks, already knowing the answer when he stops flexing his hand, a soft smile on his face that lets her know he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it.

“A little,” he replies, playing down the ache in his palm like he always had, “It’s always worse when it’s cold.” 

He was 13 when it happened. 

He’d gotten in between his father and his mother and walked away with what he would later find out were two broken bones in his hand. He hadn’t been taken to the hospital, the injury treated instead by bandages, ice and a guilty smile from his mom as she assured him it would be fine. It was years later when he was in hospital for an unrelated injury, a sprained wrist he’d got during training at the academy, when he found out the bones had been broken all those years ago. The doctor who told him said that the bones hadn’t healed properly, and the persistent pain he’d felt for half his life would be permanent. 

Emily knew about it, they had no secrets from each other, and he remembered the mix of sadness and anger in her eyes when he told her. How she’d looked outraged and devastated for the teenage version of him in equal measure. She’d asked if she could help, if there was some way she could make him feel better, and he’d told her massaging it made the ache go away.

She smiles softly at him as she reaches for his right hand and holds it between both of hers, she presses her thumbs in an upward motion on his palm. She makes sure her touch is firm enough to push out the tension but gentle enough that she doesn’t hurt him. She repeats the motion again and again, the ache dissipating as she does. As if she wasn’t only helping with the pain, but with removing his father’s violence and his mother’s indifference from his past, from where it lingered under his skin, and replacing it with her love and affection, two things she always gave him freely and without condition. 

It was how they loved each other, how they’d built their life just the two of them. 

She hadn’t spoken to her parents since the night they’d given her the ultimatum. She’d removed herself from any circle where they may overlap, no longer wanting anything to do with people who tried to force her into a box she had never truly fit into. She’d found a job in the few months between it happening and her starting at the academy. She worked as a waitress in a diner with bright pink seats and an exuberant owner, serving coffee and all-day breakfast to people who barely looked at her. Aaron would rub her feet when she got home from work and tell her she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to, that they’d get by on his salary for a few months if they needed to, but she’d been insistent, desperate to have something to do in the long days when he was at work. 

They still went to that diner occasionally. It’s where they’d gone for lunch after they got married at city hall, neither of them wanting a fuss about something that simply felt like the next step for them. They’d left a generous tip when the owner refused to let them pay for their meal and left hand in hand, their hearts and stomachs full and their smiles wide. 

She’d never for a second doubted that she’d done the right thing by refusing to give into her parents demands, but the life she’d built with Aaron was worth more to her than any of the money she’d lost. 

They had a house together, a mortgage. They had bills and disagreements about the best way to budget, and it was so beautifully ordinary sometimes it made her ache. 

“Is it feeling any better?” She asks, still concentrating on massaging his hand.

“My hand always feel better the moment you hold it,” he replies and she shakes her head as she laughs. 

“You say the most ridiculous shit,” she says and she raises his hand to her lips to kiss his fingertips. 

“And yet you married me anyway.” 

She smiles as she looks up at him, “Yeah,” she says softly, kissing him, putting everything she felt for him into it, “I did.” 

___

“I am going to kill Jason.” 

Aaron clears his throat and raises his eyebrow at his wife, “Sweetheart,” he says, waiting until she stops pacing and looks over at him, her arms tight over her chest, “Maybe stop threatening our friend in front of the doctor?” 

She clenches her teeth and looks back and forth between Aaron and the doctor standing next to the gurney he was sitting on, blood splattered from his forehead down his face and onto your shirt.  

“Jason is your friend, not mine,” she corrects, “Especially after today.” 

It was like it had happened in slow motion as she watched an unsub lash out at him, grabbing Jason’s gun from his holster and hitting Aaron in the forehead as they attempted to restrain him. Aaron had briefly lost consciousness. Every second he was out felt like a lifetime to her, everything else around them disappearing as she desperately tried to wake him up. 

It wasn’t even close to the worst injury either of them had been on the receiving end of since they’d joined the FBI, but it didn’t make it any easier. She hated when he was hurt, hated the reminder that so much of her happiness was reliant on him, but she knew that was the price for love. 

It was a price she’d happily pay for the rest of her life. 

She knew Aaron felt the same way. She’d had her appendix removed shortly after they’d got married, and he’d been a wreck. It made her wonder what he’d be like when they eventually had a baby or two, something they both wanted when the time was right, and the thought of it never failed to make her smile. The image of her usually unflappable husband on edge as she brought their kid into the world something she couldn’t wait to see. 

She wanted to build their family, to have even more of her husband to love, but whenever he suggested starting to try she put it off. No matter how much she wanted it, she couldn’t shift the feeling that she’d be like her mother. That the lack of maternal skills were genetic, and it wasn’t in her to be the mother she so desperately wanted to be. 

Aaron smiles at his wife and reaches out for her, offering her his hand, “Come here, Em.” 

She sighs and walks over, sitting on the edge of the gurney as she sandwiches his hand in between hers, squeezing tightly, “Need me to hold your hand whilst you get your stitches?” 

He smiles softly, “Always,” he says, winking at her, “It will be good practice for when we eventually have a kid, anyone that’s half you will inevitably end up in a few scrapes.” 

She chokes on a laugh and nods, unable to stop herself from smiling at the thought of their kid. Someone half him and half her with a scraped knee insisting that they were fine. All her anxieties disappear for a moment and she simply lines forward and presses a kiss to his lips. 

She hums as she pulls back and squeezes his hand again, “That’s a lot of talk for a man who’s about to have his forehead stitched back together.” 

___

June 2003

She relaxes the moment she parks on the driveway. 

She wastes no time in getting out of the car, desperate to see her husband and their little girl even though she’d only been out for a few hours. Penelope had convinced her to go out for dinner with her and JJ, claiming it had been far too long since they’d last done so, and she’d agreed at Aaron’s insistence. 

Emily smiles as she opens the front door, “Honey, I’m home,” she calls out, surprised when she’s not greeted by either Aaron or Evelyn. The four-year-old would usually run to her, her smile wide as she threw herself into her mother’s arms. She furrows her brows, “Hello?” 

“We’re in the living room,” Aaron calls back and she smiles as she starts to walk towards them, looking forward to spending some time with her family. 

It was strange to think it had almost been 10 years since she’d last seen her parents, since what she thought would be a normal, awkward dinner with them had turned into the ultimatum that had permanently torn them apart. She was proud of what she’d built from nothing, of the fact her daughter would never doubt that she was loved unconditionally like she once had, and she never looked back. 

She smiles as she steps into the living room, her heart swelling in her chest as she stops in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Aaron and Evelyn. Aaron was sitting with their daughter in his lap, she was already dressed in her Spiderman pjyamas and had her hair in neat pigtails. She had Aaron’s hand in between hers and she was rubbing her thumbs up and down his palm, her tongue sticking out as she concentrates on what she was doing. 

“What’s all this?” Emily asks as she walks over, sitting down on the couch next to them. She stamps a kiss against Evelyn’s forehead and then Aaron’s lips, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he replies, kissing her again, “Evie here is helping with my hand.” 

She has to press her lips together to stop her smile from getting too wide, sure her cheeks would ache with it. She cups her daughter’s cheek and smiles at her as she looks up, “You’re helping Daddy, huh?” 

Evelyn nods enthusiastically, “Just like you do.” 

When she’d first found out they were having a girl she’d panicked, her fear that she would turn into her own mother seemingly coming to life. Aaron had talked her down just like he always did, comforting her with his love and patience like he had learnt to do that very first summer together. Every fear had been unfounded just like he said it would be, the moment she’d first held Evelyn she knew she’d do anything to protect her, to make sure she knew she was loved. 

She’d never understood her mother less than when she’d become one herself. She thought about her more in the last few years than she had in the first few they’d been estranged. She wondered what her mother had felt when she watched her take her first steps, or the first time she said Mama. She wondered if she’d felt as nervous about her starting school as Emily felt about Evelyn starting in the fall. 

It was a constant reminder of what she never had, and what she never would, but what she’d always make sure her little girl would never doubt. 

“That’s so sweet, baby,” Emily says, kissing Evelyn’s forehead, “Why don’t you go brush your teeth and then Daddy and I will come up and read you a story in a little bit?” 

She nods enthusiastically and jumps off the couch, running out of the room quickly, her pigtails flapping behind her. Emily waits until she’s out of earshot and she reaches for her husband's hand, linking their fingers together. 

“Did she help with the pain?” 

“Not at all, her hands are way too small,” he says, smiling at her, “But she offered and it was so cute I couldn’t say no.” 

She chuckles and stamps a kiss against his lips, “Once she’s asleep I’ll do it for you.” 

He hums and kisses her again, “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, “Once it’s all better, I’ll thank you properly.” 

She bites her lower lip and winks at him, “You’ve got a deal.” 

-x-

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[noforkingclue]

Me again JC Lover! Since you said you had no problems I'll send some! I'm really curious what will come out of this. Number 4 from First Line Prompt with John Constantine. "Before you opened your eyes, you knew you weren't in your own bed."

Note: requests are currently closed

So this went a slightly angstier way then I was initially intending...

Oh well. Hope you still like it :)

Prompt list line- list

Title: Kiss or Kill

DC tag list: @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

Before you opened your eyes, you knew you weren't in your own bed.

You wrinkled your nose as you pulled the covers up and around you. You could smell the cigarette smoke on them and you rolled over and let out a muffled groan. You heard the door open and close and someone sit on the mattress beside you. The familiar click of a lighter only confirmed your suspicions.

“Oi, time to get up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Tough,” John poked you, “Get the fuck out of my bed.”

You opened an eye and glared at him. John matched your glared and you sat up, pulling the covers close to your chest, as you plucked the cigarette from him.

“So,” you said as you leant back against the pillows, “what the fuck am I doing in your bed?”

“You were pissed.”

“Ok,” you frowned, “I do remember drinking. Doesn’t explain why I’m in your bed.”

“No,” John shook his head, “You were really pissed. Drinking to forget.”

“Don’t-“

“It doesn’t work,” he said, “Losing yourself at the bottom of a bottle.”

“John,” you said warningly, “Drop it.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried. You need to-“

You stubbed the cigarette out on the headboard, not caring about ruining John property, and grabbed John’s collar. The two of you wrestled for a bit before you pinned him against the mattress.

“Don’t talk to me about grief,” you hissed, “I was asked to save that child. Look at where that got me. Covered in his blood.”

John propped himself up on his elbows, his expression icy.

“Don’t act like I haven’t been through the same thing.” he hissed

For a moment you were stunned. You had seen that expression on John before but never directed at you. You pushed at John’s chest and said,

“Let me guess, Chas was the one to put me to bed?”

“What makes you think that?”

“He was always the gentleman out of the two of you.”

Yu swung your leg under John’s, catching him by surprise. The two of you rolled over you were on top. You winced slightly as your stomach churned and a pang of pain coursed through you head. John looked worried for a second and said,

“You’re not going to puke are you?”

“Well if I did I can’t imagine a better place than all over you.”

“You might be into that but I’m not.”

“Fuck you Constantine.”

“Only in your dreams.”

“That would be more like a nightmare.”

You and Constantine continued to glare at each other. Slowly your grip loosened around him and you smirked down at him.

“Y’know,” you said, “I think you secretly care about me.”

“Booze must’ve screwed with your mind, love.”

“Nah,” you leant down, brushing your nose against his, “If you really hated me you never would’ve allowed Chas to put me in your bed. What’s the matter Jonny boy? Wanted to see what I looked like wrapped in your sheets.”

John propped himself up, brushing his lips briefly against yours.

“Gotta make up your mind,” he said, his gaze briefly dropping to your lips before once again locking with your eyes, “do you want to kiss me or kill me?”

[hermiola]

My GO Fanfic Masterlist

Growing on Me (M, WIP)

Human AU | Rockstar Crowley | Writer Aziraphale

Anthony J. Crowley isn’t up to much these days. In fact, you could almost say his days as a rockstar are pretty much behind him. Rotting in bed all day, with half-written songs plaguing him and no lyrics to speak of, everything points to his career being over for good. That is until Maggie, his manager, claims to have found him the perfect lyricist to get him out of his slump. And what better way to get the creative juices flowing than spending a whole month together in a secluded cottage on the Isle of Skye? That is, provided Crowley’s attempts at making the man run for the hills aren’t successful…

Take a Little Love From Me (M/E, 80K, 12/12)

Human AU (Pretty Woman) | Bickerflirting | Happy Ending

“How would I go about persuading you?” The stranger tilted his head to the side, considering. “For starters, you’ll have to pay me.” Aziraphale scoffed. “You can hardly charge me for directions.” “I can do whatever I want, angel. I’m not the one who got lost, now, am I?” * After fleeing a disastrous work event masked as his 50th birthday party and getting lost in a car he can’t seem to drive, Aziraphale Eastgate, CEO of Eastgate’s Booksellers Ltd., meets the mysterious Anthony, who offers to help… and not just with directions. Things escalate as they are wont to do.

Crazy Little Thing (Called Love) (T, 9K, 1/1)

Silly Misunderstandings | First Kisses & Love Confessions

Aziraphale can’t actually be suggesting what Crowley infers he’s implying�� Satan bless it, he can’t even bring himself to think the thought without discorporating on the spot. “On a what?” he chokes out, because there can be no room for error here. Aziraphale glances away, then opens and closes his mouth multiple times before whispering: “On a date.” “Which date?” he asks dumbly, hands desperately itching for his sunglasses. He’d break eye-contact and look for them if he didn’t suspect he was hallucinating the whole thing. “Like… like a specific day?” Aziraphale’s expression, a heady mix of hopeful and anxious, melts once again into haughty annoyance. “Goodness gracious, no. I meant on a date. Like… like, you know, romantically,” he clarifies, fidgeting. “With another person.” Whatever excitement Crowley was starting to feel dies a very sudden, very depressing death... * (Or: Aziraphale tries to ask Crowley on a date, but they misunderstand each other. So Crowley agrees to help Aziraphale pick up someone in a bar while secretly trying to sabotage him; little does he know that the angel is also trying to sabotage the whole thing. Shenanigans ensue. And kisses too.)

Let There Be Rock (T, 6K, 1/1)

First Meeting after 1967 | Bittersweet Ending | Misuse of AC/DC songs

Aziraphale doesn’t know what to expect, and to be quite honest with himself, he doesn’t even care, curiosity having already been replaced by sheer annoyance. The excited shrieks have turned into something awfully resembling howls and the last thing he wants to do with his afternoon is stare at a wretched rock band signing records for dreamy-eyed admirers. Music is now playing in the background and Aziraphale, who has spent millennia reporting to Gabriel and has become quite adept at blocking out irritating noises, wouldn’t even notice it if the lyrics didn’t catch his attention straight away. Well I met her in the garden, underneath that old apple tree... * Or: The year is 1979 and The Small Backroom is hosting a record signing event for a band called Let There Be Rock. Aziraphale has opinionsTM about it, especially when he reads some of their preposterous lyrics about angels and demons. First of all, angels cannot, under any circumstances, be tempted. Secondly, he has no idea who this mysterious Angel is even supposed to be... nothing to do with him, of course.

Final Breakthrough (Now!) (T, 10K, 1/1)

Post-Season 2 Fix It | Angst with a Happy Ending

“Aw, what happened? Bad day at the office?” He’s both very proud and very ashamed of the whiny voice that comes out of his mouth. “Did you suddenly realise your esteemed coworkers are a bunch of tossers?” Aziraphale keeps looking at him in a way that makes him feel exposed even behind his sunglasses, and he doesn’t waver. He just… stares. No, glares. And he doesn’t move either, doesn’t even breathe properly. The angel slowly wets his lips like he’s tasting a subpar chocolate mousse, tilts up his chin and says: “No,” like he’s stabbing the air with it. Crowley laughs, a short, ugly thing that quickly turns sour in the back of his throat. “Of course you didn’t.” --- Or: 5 times Aziraphale and Crowley don't talk + 1 time they finally do.

When Hell Freezes Over (T, 17K, 2/2 **Epilogue coming soon-ish**)

Human AU | Illusionist Crowley | Critic Aziraphale

“Not afraid at all” the angel finally says. “I mean, maybe slightly afraid. You see, my editor-in-chief doesn’t know I’m here.” “He doesn’t?” “I was supposed to review the new production of Hamlet…” “The one with Ian McKellen?” “Yes, exactly, but Eve – Miss Gardner, that is – she’s been working so hard and she would love nothing more than to be taken seriously, and she thought Gabriel gave her this assignment for all the wrong reasons, you see – and, between us, knowing Gabriel, I’m quite sure she was right – and, and I realized she needed my assignment way more than I did. So, if you really must know, I just… gave it away.” “You what?!” “I gave it away!” the angel repeats, slightly distressed. “Let me get this straight: you traded the chance to review one of the most anticipated shows of the year to interview… little old me?” - (Or: Crowley is a magician with a new Inferno-inspired show opening in London, Aziraphale the angelic-looking journalist who's supposed to interview him. Crowley immediately tries his best to ruffle his feathers. Much to his surprise, though, Aziraphale isn't as pearl-clutchy as he looks. Things go as you'd expect.)

[jerzwriter]

The Missing Piece

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing:                Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC), The Carrick Girls

Rating:                 Teen

Category:            Domestic Fluff

Summary:   Casey's heading out for a night with friends, and Tobias is on Dad duty. The night goes well overall, but it's not complete until Casey returns home.

Words: 2,000

A/N: So this ask is now over three months old, and I'm so, so sorry for the delay! But I hope that you will find it was worth the wait! This was just SO much fun to write! I hope it brings a smile or two! Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge All the Fluff and, if I'm not too late, @openheartappreciationweek - The Future.

When they first got married, they made themselves a promise. Time together as a couple would still be a priority, but time alone was something they’d make time for, too. Before Samantha was born, their goal was one date night a week and one night to themselves. They joked that it could be dangerous, reminders of a less chaotic life may not be the best idea, but they often found it hard to tear themselves away.

Flash forward to the present:  three girls, seven, five, and one. With them, and two busy careers, they laughed when they realized how naïve that earlier schedule had been. Still, they made sure to have a date night once a week… a happy marriage was one of the greatest gifts they could give their daughters, and it was a priority. But the nights alone, they often fell by the wayside. But when Tobias learned Sienna, Aurora, and Jackie would all be in DC for the Women in Medicine conference, he insisted Casey make plans to go out.   She needed the grown-up time, and he looked forward to some time with his girls. The night had finally arrived.

Casey sat before a mirror in her bedroom, holding earrings up, unable to decide which pair worked best. When Tobias sauntered into the room, he took one look at his wife, and he began reconsidering their evening. Her hair was pulled into an elegant chignon, and her make-up was done to perfection. And she was wearing that dress…. the little black velvet wrap number he loved so much… and not only because it was so easy to get off.   As he approached, he let out a low whistle, reminding himself again that he was the luckiest of men.

 “Looking good, baby,” he cooed as his arms wrapped around her waist. Casey giggled like a schoolgirl as he nuzzled into her, peppering kisses along her neck.

“Tobias! Stop,” she laughed as he finally relented. 

“What, ticklish?”

“That… and if you keep it up, I won’t leave. It’s been such a long week. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends, but I’d rather just be home with you.”

“Case… you haven’t been out for a night alone in months now. It’s important; besides, you don’t see them often.”

“I know, and I am going. I’ll just… miss you… and the girls.”

“Well, of course, you will!” He smirked, playfully flexing in front of her. “Who wouldn’t miss this? But in all seriousness, we’ll be here when you get back. Just make sure you come back. Looking like that… you may get a better offer.”

“As if,” she smiled, slipping on her rhinestone cluster earrings. She was all set now, and it was time to go.

After an extended goodbye in the foyer, Tobias nudged his wife out the door. He threatened to get Jackie involved if she didn’t leave already. Then, when she was out the door, he turned around with Kayla on his hip to find his other daughters glaring at him. Kayla’s arms wrapped around his neck, happily sucking on her pacifier; she hadn’t a care in the world. But Samantha and Brooke had their arms crossed in front of them… they were looking to be entertained.

“Yes?” he droned sarcastically. “Mom’s not out the door a full five seconds, and you’re already giving me those looks?”

“We just want to know what we’re going to do tonight, Daddy,” Brooke all but sang.

“Yeah. Mommy and Grammie always have something for us to do,” Samantha chided.

“Oh, really, little lady,” he jabbed back, “and what about your nights home with Daddy? Are you saying we don’t have fun?”

“No, we always have fun,” Brook insisted.

“I’m waiting for you to answer, Sammy. And remember, your Christmas gift may depend on it!”

He placed Kayla in her high chair, and once he made sure he was secure, he rushed over and tickled his eldest daughter, who dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Daddy! Stop!” She laughed, curls thrashing around as she attempted to escape. “You’re fun too, Daddy. But Grammie says I need to keep you on your toes!”

“Ah, what do I say about Gramme?” he asked.

“Only listen to her after you’ve run it by Mom and Dad,” Brooke recited proudly.

“There we go!” Tobias laughed while opening the front hall closet. He reached up, pulled down a box, and instructed the girls to join him at the kitchen table.

“You think Dad’s no fun, but Dad’s lots of fun! On top of ice cream later, I got this.”

The older girls clapped with approval at the new Bluey puzzle Tobias tossed on the table.

“Now, you know how much Dad loves Bluey, but there is no way I can put this together without your help. You gonna help me?”

“Yes,” they both shrieked as Tobias opened the box.

“That’s a lot of pieces!” Brooke noted. “How do we even know where they go?”

“Well, it’s a good idea to find the four corner pieces first, and then we take it from there.”

Samantha nodded in agreement. “After we find those, we look for pieces with the same colors and try to fit them together.”

“It’s gonna take a long time,” Brook sighed.

“Well, do you have a date Daddy doesn’t know about tonight, sweetheart?”

“No,” Brooke laughed. “I’m too little to date, Daddy!”

“Well, thank God for that… in more ways than one…” he mumbled. “Then we have plenty of time to work on this puzzle.”

The night went smoothly, with only a few minor catastrophes as they worked…

“DADDY!” Samantha yelled. “Kayla is eating a piece of the puzzle!”

Tobias took it from her mouth, assuring the older girls that a bite mark or two would not ruin the puzzle. Crisis averted.

“Daddy, I have to do poopies,” Brooke announced.

“OK, you can use the bathroom in the hall.”

“But I need you to hold my hand!”

Samantha gave her dad a serious look. “She’s been having some difficult poops, Dad. She needs the emotionional support.”

Tobias choked back a laugh. “Oh, does she. Well, then let's go, little lady,” he said, taking Brooke’s hand. “Sammy, this means you’re in charge until we get back. Think you can handle it.”

Samantha briskly saluted her father with a smile. “I’ve got it, Dad!”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

After “emotionally supporting” Brooke, Tobias returned to the table with some veggie snacks. In no time, they only had about ten pieces left to place. 

“Daddy, what do we do with the puzzle once all the pieces are together?” Brooke asked.

“We could do one of two things. Take it apart and put it back in the box, so we can do it again. Or, I can leave it on the mat and bring it to be framed.”

“Framed! Framed!” The two older girls chanted in unison. Even though Kayla couldn’t say the words yet, her happy little gurgles let Tobias know she fully supported her big sisters.

“OK, OK! The little people have spoken! Daddy will get the puzzle framed.  But first, we have to finish it.”

After the cheers receded, they put the last pieces in place until….

“Uh oh…” Samantha fretted.

“Daddy?” Brooke queried anxiously. “Where is the last piece?”

“It’s gotta be here someplace,” Tobias insisted. “Did it fall on the floor?”

Kayla stretched her neck in the high chair as the other three looked under the table.

“Not here!” Brooke hollered.

“OK, let’s look on the table….” Tobias offered.

“In our chairs….”

“Kayla’s high chair?”

But they were coming up empty.

“Maybe you took it with you to the bathroom?” Samantha insisted.

“I wouldn’t take a puzzle piece to the bathroom!” Brooke grumbled.

“Not you, beautiful, but maybe Daddy did by mistake. Let me check.”

Sammy turned to Brooke once Tobias was in the hall. “I think we should take the cushions off the sofa. Maybe it’s under there.”

“Good idea!” Brooke agreed, even though they hadn’t been near the couch all night.

When Tobias reentered the room, it was minor bedlam. The two older girls upended everything in search of the missing piece as Kayla happily tossed her last bits of carrots around the room.

“Girls! What are you doing?” Tobias demanded, doing his best to keep his cool.

“Daddy! We have to find it!” Brooke’s lip quivered. “We can’t get it framed if a piece is missing!”

“Yeah,” Samantha agreed. “Especially since it’s the piece with Bluey’s eye!”

“We’ll find it. It has to be somewhere.”

In all the commotion, no one heard Casey enter the front door nor the clicking of her high heels as she walked toward the kitchen. Her brows raised when she saw the state of the room.

“Hey, everyone. What’s going on?”

“Mommy!” Brooke yelled. “We can’t find the last piece of the Bluey puzzle…it’s… it’s GONE!”

“OK,” Casey tried to reassure her daughter. “It’s OK, it has to be here someplace. We’ll find it.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Samantha sighed. “Now I feel better.”

“You… you what?” Tobias huffed. “I just said the same thing, and you didn’t calm down.”

“Yeah,” Samantha smiled, “but Mommy sounds more confident.”

Casey looked at Tobias with a giggle. “Don’t take it personally, dear. Let me take a look around.”

“You’ll never find it!” Sammy insisted, “we’ve looked everywhere, and….”

Casey’s eldest's words halted, and everyone but Kayla looked at Casey, astonished as she held the missing piece between two well-manicured fingers.

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

“How… what… where did you find that?” Tobias blurted.

“It was right here on the counter,” Casey laughed. “What would you all do without me?”

Sammy placed her hands on her hips. “Daddy must have put it there when he got us snacks!”

“Look at you! Throwing Daddy right under that bus!” Tobias turned to Casey.  “That’s it. She has to stop spending so much time with my mother.”

Casey laughed and kissed her husband’s cheek. “OK, so who gets to put the last piece in?”

“Why don’t you do it, Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Sammy agreed. “Then we can say we worked on the puzzle.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” Tobias concurred. 

All three girls cheered as Casey put the last piece in place.

“Now it’s all done!” Brooke giggled.

“And we’re going to frame it, Mommy!” Sammy informed.

“Oh really? And what room are we hanging this in?”  

“I think it should go in Daddy’s office,” Brooke offered.

“My office?”

“Yes, Daddy. We all know how much you love Bluey, so that’s where it should go.”

“I’m sure your patients will find that endearing,” Casey chuckled. 

“You know what! I bet they will! Great idea, Brooke!”

“Mommy, did you have fun tonight?” Sammy asked.

Tobias smacked himself in the head. “God, with all the craziness, I forgot to ask you! Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did,” Casey beamed, “but I’m still happy to be home. Why don’t we put on our pajamas, and we can watch one episode of Bluey together before you girls are off to bed?”

“Yes!” Brooke yelled, racing for the stairs. “I’m going to put on my Bluey pajamas!”

“So I am!” Sammy said, chasing after her.

Tobias fell back against the cabinets with relief the second they left the room; his laughing wife fell right into his arms. 

“What the matter, baby? Are you sad that you don’t have Bluey pajamas, too?”

“Hey, I can always buy a pair,” he grinned.  He placed a kiss on top of Casey’s head. “I’m so glad your home, and not just because the rugrat to grown-up ratio is more in balance now.”

“I’m glad, too. Now, let's get ourselves and Kayla into our jammies. We have some quality family cuddling time ahead.”

“Ah, my favorite time,” Tobias beamed. “Case, how did my life ever become this perfect?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” she teased. “You met me.”

“Don’t laugh, princess… you were absolutely the missing piece.”

“Mmm, I’m so glad you were better at finding me than Bluey’s eye!”

“I can’t argue with you there,” he said as they ascended the stairs.  “Can’t argue with you at all.”

Permatags: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @differenttyphoonwerewolf @fayeswiftie @gryffindordaughterofathena @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

OH Only: @annfg8 @binny1985 @coffeeheartaddict2 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @peonierose @youlookappropriate

Tobias Only: @icecoffee90 @kyra75

[bluejaysandblackbats]

The Spin Out

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: Jason Todd returns to Gotham after three years for the final time to win enough money to pay off Sheila's debts.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Street Racing AU, No Capes AU, Jason Todd-centric, Hurt Jason Todd, Bad Parent Sheila Haywood, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Organized Crime, Jason Todd has PTSD, Jason Todd has Trust Issues, Jason Todd is Not Okay, Good Person Jason Todd, Stalker Bruce Wayne, Family Issues, Secret Identities, Secrets, Angst

Chapter One: Cigs

Jason neatly folded his clothes, watching his mother pace, smoking a cigarette. “Jason, it’s too dangerous. There has to be something-.”

“Nope. I’ll be home before the summer holiday ends,” Jason interrupted. He stood, gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek, snagged her cigarette, and sat on the foot of his bed. “I’ll take the boat out as far as Florida and drive the rest of the way to Jersey. I only need to stay long enough to get a hundred grand. Can you hold out until I get home?”He spoke with the cigarette between his lips, sharply inhaling once he finished his question.

“Jason, you’re only-.”

Lifting his mother off the ground, he set her down a few feet to his left and opened his drawer. “Mom, I’ll be fine. Do you mind if I bum a pack of cigs off you for the trip?” Jason questioned. He started smoking again after he moved in with Sheila. She reached into her back pocket and placed the pack in his palm.“If anything happens, I can always call your brother in Maine. Right?”

“Be careful. These things’ll kill you,” Sheila joked as she reached for him, pulling him into a hug. “I just got you back.” Tensing in her arms, he fought the urge to pull away. It wasn’t the first time they’d had money trouble of that proportion. Her last boyfriend cleared her bank account, and Jason had to sell his car. That stung. It took him three months to bounce back. He wanted a mother more than a peaceful life. So, he swallowed all the trouble that came with knowing her.

"Passport and fake ID… Where is it, Mom?" Jason questioned.

"Jason, why can't you stay here and do all that?" Sheila asked.

"Mom, we talked about this. They know me here. No one's gonna let me race in this town. Nobody knows who I am in Gotham, Mom. I can get in and out with fewer problems there," Jason explained as he rummaged through his drawers. Jason glanced at his mother and the guilty look on her face. “Mom, give me my ID. Please. Please. PLEASE.” He grabbed her hands, holding them to his chest. “Mom, I have three months to make one hundred grand… Or they will kill us. Do you understand that? They’re not kidding. Did you forget that gun he held to your head two weeks ago?”

Sheila pulled away from him. “Let me go with you—.”

“I wish you could, but it’d be more trouble than we can handle right now, Mom. Now, give me my ID and passport. I have an hour to get on the road, or I’ll miss my boat,” Jason replied. She frowned. “Murder, Mom. They’re gonna kill us.”

Sheila frowned, reaching into her purse for Jason’s ID and passport. “I almost named you Michael, you know. I was so sure you’d be blonde. Michael Peter Todd,” Sheila wistfully smiled as she held his hand. “Your father didn’t like that name.”

Jason tensed up and pulled away. “Mom, I have to go,” Jason whispered.

“Call me as much as you can,” Sheila whispered. Jason nodded as he zipped up his backpack. Slinging his bag on his back, Jason headed for the living room and sat next to his suitcase. “Do you have your lunch for the boat?”

“Mom, I’m alright—.”

“Jason, take your lunch. Please,” Sheila interrupted, “You’re a big guy now. You have to keep your belly full.”

“Mom, I’ll—. Yes, ma’am,” Jason whispered as he put his cigarette in the ashtray. “Thank you.” Despite his frustration, he would’ve done anything for her.

“I love you, Jason. I guess—. I’m worried about you,” Sheila whispered as she reached to fix a stray hair in Jason’s face. “You look so tired.”

Jason took his lunch out of the fridge and kissed her forehead. “Love you, Mom. I’ll be back before the end of summer,” Jason whispered, “Okay? And I’ll drive safe to the docks, Mommy. I promise.” Mommy. The word carried the same sugary sweetness he had when they first met. It was genuine. His love for her was real.

As he slipped out the front door with his bags, his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed the lump in his throat, quietly joining his friend from school in the car. “Pô! I can’t believe you’re leaving São Tomé,” his friend shouted, hanging off Jason’s jacket. “I could weep!”

Jason laughed and pushed his friend off. “Efigenia, I’ll only be gone for the summer. Efi—.”

“I want to go with you. Think of all the pretty girls that you’re robbing me of meeting,” Efigenia whined. Jason took her car keys and shook his head.

“It’s not that great. I’m working,” Jason replied.

“Still… It’s amazing that your mom’s letting you go to America by yourself,” Efigenia half-exclaimed, “And in your own apartment. I bet you’ll have all sorts of—.”

Jason’s face reddened as he shook his head. “Oh, yeah… I forgot. You wanna be a man of virtue for the rest of your life,” Efigenia teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked.

“Come on. Girls here are practically throwing themselves at you. And you, in all your Catholic guilt, shrink away from women like they’ve got the plague,” Efigenia explained, “Unless—.”

“If I was gay, you’d be the first to know,” Jason replied.

Efigenia glanced at him, raising her brow. “So, are you gay?” Efigenia asked.

Jason turned his head and rolled down the window. “I’m gonna have one more smoke before I go,” Jason mumbled as he lit a cigarette. “Efi, can you look after my mom while I’m gone?”

“Uh-huh… Why?” Efi asked. Jason tightened his lips around the cigarette as he blew a smoke ring out the window. Jason managed to keep his friends at arm’s length about his past and current home life. All Efigenia knew about Jason was he liked cars and motorcycles, graduated a year early, and never missed a Sunday at church. Everything else was unnecessary and messy.

He didn’t want to make any waves. Jason and Sheila had only been in São Tomé for three months. Before that, they were in Australia for a year. He went by Michael at that time. Before that, they were in Venezuela for two weeks… And Italy for another year. But Ethiopia came first. They lived and breathed Ethiopia until it nearly killed Jason. He still couldn’t talk about it, even after Sheila begged him to say something. That’s when he started smoking again, but he never spoke one word of blame to her. It wasn’t in his nature to complain about his mother.

“Jason, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask you if you were gay—.”

“Oh, no. That’s not—. I’m nervous about—. I haven’t been to the States in a year. I don’t—. I don’t like traveling,” Jason replied, “I feel like an open wound, and every time I travel to another country, I feel like I’m bleeding out. I’m losing everything that makes me feel… Human.” Efigenia frowned.

“You never talk about traveling with your mom. I always thought you liked it because of how fast you pick up—. You adjust so fast,” she whispered.

“I love the destinations, but sometimes I feel like there’s no endpoint. Nothing feels like home,” Jason muttered as he took a long drag from his cigarette and blew out the window. He felt nauseous. Traveling always made him feel nauseous.

[hakawati93]

MERLOT

"Just another lonely night." is the constant thought that swarms my mind.

My life is nothing but a routine that never ends; there is no spark or thrill, and it ends with me sitting on this squeaky, lumpy old couch that I have grown to love over the past few years. Sadly, the longest relationship I have had is with this couch, and our dates include a tv show I have watched repeatedly and a bottle of Pinto.

I can go out and enjoy all that life offers a 26-year-old, with nightclubs, parties, one-night stands, etc. Just the thought of it alone causes the taste of dinner to wiggle up my esophagus to the back of my throat. I have never been interested in the usual antics of someone in their twenties. I enjoy staying home, reading, writing, and watching classic movies, but I also hate it because the feeling of loneliness sits right next to me like an old friend. It greets me when I climb into bed; it lays next to me, wraps its arms around me, and whispers the harshness of my life choices and how they will always be here.

I know it's depressing, but it is all I know; I have been alone since my mother gave birth. I know I have family and friends with me, but how can you call them such when you feel no real connection with them? How can they be family and friends when they can't fill the deep hole within your soul? That's the right, soul, not heart, and no, I am not being over dramatic! My soul feels like it has a growing hole, and it continues to grow and deepen with each passing day.

Do you know what I wish for, what I have prayed for every night since I was a child who could fully understand the need for companionship? I have prayed and wished! For someone to come into my life and fill my soul and heart with much love and happiness. I will meet someone who can bring up every emotion on the spectrum. Anger, happiness, sadness, etc. I don't care; I just want to feel something other than nothing at all. I take these thoughts to bed with me, and don't tell me, "well, maybe you suffer from depression." I know I suffer from depression and three other mental illnesses, but when medicine no longer works, and those feelings still exist, what then? You start to ask yourself, is it a chemical imbalance in your brain or spiritual? Has my soul been alone since my first life, and has it carried this loneliness for every life? Have I not had anyone to fill this void in my soul? God! another horrid thought to take to bed.

Turning off the Tv, I annoyingly shuffle my feet to my bedroom, rolling my eyes at the fact my roommate once again is entertaining "one of her hoes," Shame is a new feeling right now because I have tried walking a mile in her shoes. Is that the right word for it? I guess I had my share of "hoes" and didn't enjoy a millisecond. Every kiss, touch, and thrust (cringe) felt wrong and foreign to me like I shouldn't be doing this or at least with this person. After 5 attempts, I finally gave up on the hoe thing and decided to just wait, but how long will this delay be?

As I climb into bed and get all snuggly, I daydream about the perfect guy and our relationship. Sometimes they are fanfictions on a book I have read, a tv show, or a comic book universe (DC!), and I throw myself in it, making my own sensible character. I have already taken my antipsychotics for the night and can feel them slowly ease my body to relax. When I take my medicine, it feels like someone is pressing a chloroform-drenched cloth over my nose and mouth, and I fall into a deep sleep. Like I am doing now, right before I drift to dreamland, I feel my bed dip, and it's like someone has climbed into it. It can't force me to open my eyes and check there is no rush of adrenaline to cause me to jump out of bed. I just lay here, letting them crawl and lay next to me. Like I have been tossed down Alice's hole into wonderland, I begin to fall with the whispers of "Mine" echoing around me.

Can't scream or move, and fear is starting to spread throughout my veins! I want to wake up now, please!

"Be still, my love.", A husky voice calls out to me.

I don't know why I care that his voice sounds like warm honey being brushed all over my body, but for some reason, I do.

"Open your eyes." commanding little shit, isn't he?

I open my eyes to find myself in my living room, but instead of grey-painted walls, they are a dark deep red. No couch or boxes of books were scattered around the room, just a long dining table in the center. I look towards the window, and there are no street lights, just void blackness, the type of black that no light can shine through. I'm not even going to bother looking at the man because I can't see anything, and I also don't care enough to look. Probably because I am peeing my pants scared, and if he looks like some horrible creature from sinister (I freaking hate that movie!), I will have a damn heart attack. He laughs, like those deep-throaty laughs you read in romance novels that sound so sexy toward the female character.

"Are you done with your inner monologue? You have wished and prayed for me since you were a child, and now that I am here, you fear me? What an odd little creature."

As if I was bitched slapped, my head turned towards him and, with great disappointment

"Once again with the inner monologue? Little one, just speak to me."

"Fine! Why can't I see you?" Freaking twat muffin!

"Because I am too far from you; if I was closer, I could show myself more clearly. Not that that matters we have met before and you have seen my face. You just don't remember. Also any thought that you have, I can hear it."

"ops"

I turn my head away slightly and hide my smile cause; honestly, it is a little funny.

"Is it now?" Th,e sexy voiced man then placed a glass of red wine in front of me, and all I had to say was it better not be Merlot.

"It is, little love; I apologize that the type of wine is not your liking, but if you want, you can always change it the next go around. I am giving you a choice here, little love, to end your suffering to rid you of your loneliness. To stay here with me and get everything you ever wanted in life, and all you have to do, my love, is to give in. Drink the wine and stay with me or return to your current life and continue to suffer alone."

"Just give in, right?" I reach for the glass……….

[jungle-angel]

Like Father, Like Son

Summary: Joe Floyd is one cruel son of a bitch. Later Bob turns out to be his dad’s equal

Notes: Based off of an interview with out dear friend, Glen Powell about a very gross but very funny incident that occurred during flight training

Miramar, CA

September, 1992

5:30am

Joe was still sleeping deeply at this early hour, his face almost buried into Irene’s neck and his arm coiled protectively around her shoulders. The other kids would have to get up for school in an hour, leaving him to leave at the same time they did.......8am on the dot. 

Irene groaned in her sleep, annoyed at the set of tiny feet kicking her all over and the movement that was becoming more frequent these days and one that she knew a little too well. “Baby?” 

“What?” Joe murmured. 

“Little man’s awake already.” 

Joe yawned, his hand gently rubbing her shoulders before moving down to her more noticeable bump. “You be nice to your mother,” he said. “Or else I’m gonna have to come in there and fight you.” 

He felt the flat of a tiny foot shoot to the palm of his hand before it disappeared and settled. “You see what he did there?” he asked her with an annoyed look on his face.

“Oh no,” Irene chuckled sarcastically. “Your little mini Muhammad Ali’s been quiet all morning.” 

Joe rolled his eyes and figured it was time to get up. “Want me to get the rest of the prison inmates up?” 

“Go ahead,” Irene laughed. 

Joe kissed her cheek before pressing a firm one to her lips. God she was gorgeous.....even after the kids and still as happy-go-lucky as the day he and Irene had their first date at a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert all those years ago. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“Love you too,” she said, smiling widely as her hand grazed his shadow-lined chin. 

He kissed her once more before he shifted and kissed her bump. “I love you too little man,” he whispered. “You’d better behave for your mother while I’m gone or else you’re gonna hear about it when I get home.” 

Joe went about the usual routine of catching a shower before he jumped into his flight suit and boots, grabbing the keys, helmet and backpack he took with him every day to work. Now came the hard part......getting the seven other miscreants in the house up for school. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!!” Joe ordered loudly, knocking on the bedroom doors. “Everybody up! First day of school! Let’s get going! C’mon! Reagan, Eugene and Michael, get up! Sean, you too, I don’t want any complaints.”

The four eldest stuck their heads out of their doors as Joe continued down the halls. “Liam, let’s get moving!” Joe ordered.  “Chloe and Aly, you two little troublemakers better be up in five minutes and I mean five minutes!” 

Each of the kids gladly complied, not wanting to incur the wrath of their father who had early mornings down to military precision. Reagan, the oldest of the Floyd wolf pack, was old enough to help get breakfast ready for the younger ones. She climbed onto her little stepstool in the kitchen, turned on the radio and helped as best she could, while Joe made sure the kids had everything in their bags. 

The kids ate quicker than usual and cleaned up when they were done before rushing back to their rooms to get their new school clothes. Not too bad. The only bump in the road being Liam with his sloppily tied shoes. No matter, the kid was still learning. 

Outside they went to wait for the bus to take them to the school on base. Thank God it was one of those hippie schools that let the kids play outside as much as they could. Joe and Irene loathed the thought of the kids being stuck inside all day. 

As soon as they had been picked up, Joe jumped in the truck and switched on the radio, unrolling the windows so that every annoying neighbor along the way would have to listen to AC/DC’s “It’s a long way to the top” blaring from the speakers as he drove by.

“It’s gonna be a good day,” he told himself, repeating it like a mantra, over and over again. 

Naval Air Station, Miramar

8:50 am

Joe strode onto the tarmac with his flight helmet in hand and aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Today was definitely going to be eventful, seeing as Maverick and Ice were the first two to greet him. 

“Looks like we’ve got some new recruits,” Joe remarked. 

“New is a bit of an understatement, Rabbit,” Ice chuckled, dropping in Joe’s callsign. “These guys are as green as you can possibly get and I have a feeling we’ll have our work cut out for us.” 

“Who’s on roster?” 

“You, me, Mav, Slider, Wolf and Hollywood,” Ice told him. 

Into the hangar they went to meet the new recruits. Ice wasn’t kidding, these kids were as green and fresh-faced as you could get. But there was one amongst the crowd that Joe had taken an instant disliking to, a kid that had an arrogant look in his dark eyes that just screamed “privileged brat straight from the Ivy League schools.”

“Now it’s important to remember that when you’re up there,” Joe explained. “Your weapons systems and everything needs to be working to a T. One little thing is off and you’re fucked up the ass and out the ears.” 

“Sir, I hate to be one to interrupt,” Mr. Ivy League interjected. “But you’re telling us things that we already know.”

This kid was really starting to make Joe’s blood boil. Every two seconds it was an interjection about how his superiors were wrong and he was right. Even Maverick and Ice’s eyes were rolling. Slider and Wolfman whispered something indiscernible to each other as Joe tried to carry on, but found it a little more difficult. 

I swear to God, I’m gonna get this kid and I’m gonna get him real good......Joe fumed. 

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

Out to the tarmac they went, everyone loading into their respective planes with a new recruit. Joe was a little less than pleased to find that he had been partnered with Ivy League, his skin crawling at his smug face and the way he bragged. 

“Fair word of warning,” Joe told him as they climbed in. “You start feeling like you’re gonna puke, there’s bags in the backseat pocket.” 

“I’ve never puked sir,” Ivy League replied. “And I’m proud of the fact that I never have.” 

Joe rolled his eyes and climbed in, securing the straps on his flight helmet. He already had the kid’s weakest point figured out......and it was certainly going to get very interesting. 

The planes taxied onto the runway and took off into the sky, speeding towards the training grounds where the team would begin to show the new recruits how things were done amongst the old salts. 

Things had gone smoothly for the most part, no mechanical issues or any others for that matter. Yet Joe soon began to notice the pale, ashen look that was beginning to appear in Ivy League’s face, a look that he just couldn’t get out of his mind as his brilliant, germ of an idea began to grow and spread.

“You doin ok back there?” he asked. 

“Doing just fine sir, everything’s under control,” Ivy League replied. 

“Ok, if you say so,” Joe said. No one could see it, but an evil little grin had begun to form under his mask. 

Joe watched him carefully like a cat eyeing its prey in the bushes. The kid was beginning to look greener and greener around the gills with every second that passed. Alright kid.......he thought......time for your ego check......

“Alright,” Joe announced. “We’re gonna practice with some light barrel rolls just to get you used to the sensation.” 

“Ok,” Ivy League replied, his voice a little weary. “Ok, gimme one second.” 

Joe heard him reaching for the bag and the kid retching his brains out a second later. Now was his chance.

In the blink of an eye, Joe turned the plane into a double barrel roll which startled Ivy League nearly shitless, the newbie screaming and puking as the contents of the bag and his stomach all came back up, hitting both his face and the glass canopy of the plane. 

The grin that crawled across Joe’s face was uncontrollable as he quietly laughed his ass off. God the stench was horrible, but he prayed it would be the ego check of a lifetime for the kid. 

“You learn your fuckin lesson kid?” he chided. 

“I give! I give!” Ivy League cried out before he retched and let loose again. “Oh God!!! Agh! Eeew!!” 

“Ok, I think we’ve had enough,” Joe chuckled. 

He landed the plane on the tarmac, quickly opening the canopy and motioning for a medical officer to get Ivy League out of the back. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” Maverick laughed. 

“Gave the kid an ego check!” Joe answered. 

Maverick, Ice, Wolf, Slider and Hollywood whistled and cheered a little bit. Sure they felt a bit sorry for Ivy League, but one thing was certain. Nobody messes with one of their best. 

Naval Air Station, Miramar

July, 2022

Jake, Phoenix and Halo waited for the plane to land and for Bob to come back, hoping that the rest of the new recruits had done ok in training. When he finally landed, they couldn’t help but notice a rather gross looking splatter on the glass canopy of Bob’s plane. 

“Yo, what the fuck?” Hangman remarked. 

“Bro, that’s nasty,” Halo added. 

“Did Bob just commit murder?” Phoenix chuckled. 

“Hell no, somebody puked,” Halo replied. 

Bob came striding back, flight helmet in hand and a huge shit-eating grin on his face. He bit his lower lip, trying so hard to stifle his laughter, but it was damn near uncontrollable. 

“What did you do?” Phoenix questioned. 

“Did you just like, kill your new recruit?” Halo said with a nervous laugh. 

Bob snickered and shook his head. 

Phoenix and Halo glanced at each other, but Hangman’s eyes widened, finally processing the sequence of events that had transpired and the resurfacing of old memories from when he had first joined Top Gun ten years previously. 

“HOLY SHIT!!!!!!” he screamed. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!” 

Bob busted out laughing. 

“You stole a page from your dad’s dirty playbook!!!!” Jake screamed again. “YOU SNEAKY FUCKER!!!!!”

Bob couldn’t control his laughter anymore. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, raising his hands and grinning from ear to ear.

“His dad?” Phoenix asked. 

“Foul-Mouth Joe Floyd!” Jake answered. “He was my flight instructor when I first started ten years ago! He did the same thing to my dad’s prick of a cousin back in ninety-two!” 

Callie and Natasha both looked at each other with their jaws hanging wide open in disbelief. Joe’s escapades were legendary around Top Gun, just as legendary as Maverick’s. 

“Oh my shit!” Jake declared, wiping a tear from his eyes and pretending to kowtow before Bob. “Bob, you are the kind and we are not worthy!!” 

Bob and the girls laughed before Natasha finally said something. “Bob my brother,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders. “You are the king......but you smell so fucking bad right now.” 

“Yeah I’m gonna go shower off before I go home smelling like puke,” he chuckled before making his way inside to the showers. 

@nobody7102 I did it.......I fucking did it, that little blurb has been turned into this evil science experiment of a story (lol). @creativitybeware @jakexfmc​ I hope you guys enjoy this too, sorry for the unexpected tag and for it being so long, there was alot to sort through to get it all down. 

[mediocre-writerr]

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending. 

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers. 

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally. 

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,” 

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head. 

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled. 

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside. 

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back. 

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh. 

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?” 

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered. 

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,” 

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank. 

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!” 

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,” 

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him. 

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!” 

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!” 

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered. 

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry. 

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly. 

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely. 

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,” 

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else. 

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake. 

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time. 

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse. 

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,” 

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?” 

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!” 

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe. 

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive. 

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter. 

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!” 

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs. 

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t. 

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?” 

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently. 

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?” 

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,” 

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,” 

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,” 

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out. 

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked. 

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,” 

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran. 

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”. 

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!” 

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!” 

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,” 

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left. 

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,” 

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live. 

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed. 

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,” 

“Of course,” 

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears, “Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?” 

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off. 

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,” 

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,” 

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her. 

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers. 

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,” 

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!” 

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie. 

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair. 

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s. 

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

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[chocolateheart]

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns​ @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

[clonecyare]

I Can Handle Myself

Summary: You were perfectly capable of handling yourself when it came to matters of your safety. But that would never stop Fox from doing his part.

Pairing: Commander Fox x senator!reader

Tags: assination attempts, protective fox, senator!reader, republic gala, canon typical violence/shenanigans, banter, secret relationship, kissing, suggestive ending,

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The 2nd instalment of my outfit series. This one is based on this outfit submitted by @murdertoothpick for Fox. Each fic in the series can be read as stand-alone fics.

1st instalment: Playing a Dangerous Game - Captain Rex x medic/!reader

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

----

“I am going to say this one more time, Commander. I do not need a babysitter for this Gala, I am more than capable of handling myself.” You said matter-of-factly as you walked through the halls of the senate, datapad in hand, tapping perhaps a little passive-aggressively on the screen.

Commander Fox chuckled under his bucket, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“With all due respect, Senator, you were the target of an assassination attempt 4 days ago.”

“And I survived. Nobody would be stupid enough to try a second attempt at Republic Gala, not with the Senate present.”

Fox chuckled and fell in step with you, bumping shoulders with you as you walked. “Maybe so, but it’s the wishes of the Chancellor that you have a member of the Guard escort you, while the rest patrol the Gala.”

You stopped outside the entryway to your office and put one hand on your hip, datapad and a stack of flimsi files clutched under one arm and pointing accusingly at Fox with the other from behind the death grip you had on your caf. “You’re enjoying this.”

You nodded politely to Hound who had been standing guard at your office, and he saluted with a polite, “Ma’am.” He took his leave as Fox took his place, leaning against the doorway with his head tilted as you punched in the keycode. The doors slid open, and he followed you inside, removing his bucket with a gentle hiss and holding it under his arm against his hip.

You couldn’t help but stare a little, just briefly. He was sporting a few soft grey hairs at the sides of his neatly trimmed hair. It made him appear just a slight bit older and more sophisticated, the neat locks of loose hair framing his handsome face.

“Perhaps a little. I do get quite the kick of you not getting your own way.”

His smug comment brought your attention back to the present and you muttered something in response with narrowed eyes. Dropping the stack of files and the datapad on your desk, you hopped up to sit on the edge and crossed one knee over the other. The lightweight fabric of your skirt sported a high slit, exposing the skin of your legs and upper thigh.

You sighed, resigned to your fate and leaned back on one palm, swirling the steaming caf in your paper takeaway cup.

“Who will be my knight in shining red armour, then?”

You asked as you blew on the hot caf and took a sip.

Fox, whose eyes has been previously occupied following the slit of your skirt up to your thigh, snapped out of his daydream and plastered a handsome smirk on his face.

“Oh, that would be me. I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp, mesh’la.”

“Wha-” You did a rather ungracious spit take withyour coffee, as the Commander slid his helmet back on and moved through your office doors with one final look back at you.

“Oh, and don’t be late.”

----

Leaning into the mirror you carefully applied the deep crimson red lipstick, treating the task with the utmost delicacy, lest you waste your look entirely. You stepped back once you were through and took a moment to admire your handiwork.

Dressed head to toe in deep, rich red tones and soft fabrics, you felt you had outdone yourself this time. If you were to be on your Commander’s arm all evening, the least you could do was make an effort, right?

You smirked softly, tilting your head in the mirror. Yeah, this would show him.

You had decided to go for an elegant gown for this evening, floor-length and a deep wine red in colour. The upper portion was a bodice lined with velvet and fitted to your body, with sleek black linear detailing down the front. Around the upper edge and over the shape of your chest was lined with intricate gold detailing.

In the centre of your chest, just under the hollow of your throat, sat a delicate golden brooch, which held from each side 2 long strips of the same wine-red material from your dress, draped prettily back over your shoulders, accentuating your chest and neck.

You had chosen several simple gold jewellery items, and tied your hair up into an intricate bun, completing your look and signature red lip. You were just touching up the corners of your lipstick when there was a firm knock at your door.

You headed for the door, opening it with a smile.

“Good evening, Commander.”

You smiled, voice sweet like honey. Your Commander, to your delight, was stood frozen in the doorway looking at you. In one hand he held the cap of his dress greys and in the other, a bouquet of Queen’s Heart flowers.

“Fox?”

You smiled softly and reach a hand out to touch his forearm. The gentle touch broke him from his stare and he quickly cleared his throat, offering you the bouquet with a bow. “For you.”

You smiled and took them with a courtesy, “they’re beautiful, come in, let me find a spot for them.” You stepped aside to let him in, finding the perfect spot for the flowers on your table.

When you turned back, Fox was watching you again, though this time he was smiling handsomely. You smiled back, “well, how do I look?”

“Mesh’la. Truly mesh’la.” He smiled as he offered his arm. Your cheeks flamed a pretty pink, bringing a satisfied smirk to the Commander’s face as you slid your arm through his own.

You locked up the apartment and made your way strangely quiet Senate District. The air was crisp against your skin, cooling the warmth you felt where you were brushing arms with the soldier lightly.

“You know, you clean up pretty well outside of all that plastoid.”

You smiled playfully, looking up at him. He smiled back, chuckling and shaking his head lightly, hair bouncing lightly in the gentle breeze. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I would go so far as to say a 10/10.”

Fox groaned deeply in his chest, head hanging sightly. You swore it was to hide his smile.

“I hate you.”

You smiled fondly and pressed into his side, free hand resting on his arm that was holding yours.

“No, you don’t.”

----

Perhaps you may have been wrong about the Gala. Fox had his reputation for being a little… prickly, at the best of times. But, as the over the top affairs go, the Commander had proven himself quite the charmer.

He has stayed dutifully by your side most of the evening, So, having a bodyguard was, as it turned out, a blessing in disguise - though you would never admit as much to anyone else. Far fewer senatorial aides tried to approach you upon spotting the head of the Coruscant Guard on your arm. Even several of the more conservative senators passed you by upon receiving his death glare.

At one point, towards the end of the evening, you had even managed to convince the stoic Commander to join you on the ballroom floor to dance. Well, sway, would be more accurate. The two of you moved around the room in a gentle sway, you humming softly along to the tune while Fox rested his cheek atop your head.

You raised your glass of Algarine wine to your lips in an almost mini toast, “Well Commander, it seems we had noth-”

Your words died in your throat as the glass suddenly shattered in your hand. The blaster bolt that has cause it clipped your right cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A roar of commotion suddenly filled the room, with several masked individuals pushing through the crowd. Most of the shots were trained on you, but you now noticed a group of them firing off into the guests as a distraction.

“Get down. Now!”

Fox barked, crowding you to the floor. Thire and Thorn were already pushing through the crowds, firing at 2 of the intruders and calling in backup.

“Commander!”

Hound threw Fox’s blasters towards him and took off after one of the assailants, Stone calling for backup. The leader of the group was faster, though, taking another shot that you managed to dodge as Fox tackled him, throwing himself between you and the hitman, and knocking his blaster from his hands. The pair wrestled for the single DC-17 that had fallen between them, each landing several punches.

In the end, the hitman got the upper hand. Blood rushed to your ears, cancelling out the commotion behind you. As soon as he pulled the pistol on the Commander, you were behind him, panting heavily, pistol to the back of his head.

“Drop it. Now. I promise I’m faster.”

Fox looked at you with wide eyes, before the dropped to your exposed thigh and the small holster secured around your upper thigh, soft brown irises slowly darkening. Discreet, made for a small pistol like an ELG-3A.

The man dropped the blaster and Fox grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, binding his wrists and looking over his shoulder at you with a chuckle as he pushed the man towards one of the Corries that had arrived.

The room was emptying now, only a few shaken aides left milling around, and few vod who were cleaning up and securing the room. Fox lifted a hand to brush a few hairs back behind your ear, and you smiled.

“I told you I could handle myself.”

Fox laughed, holding your cheek as his calloused thumb swiped over your cheek, wiping away the trail of blood. “Yes, you most certainly did, cyar’ika.”

You turned your cheek into his palm and pressed a light kiss, looking up at him.

Fox took one precursory look around the ballroom and bent down, kissing you hard. It wasn’t soft or sweet like you knew they could be. It wasn’t careful and quick, like so many of your kisses had to be in order to remain a secret.

It was rushed, and desperate. You could practically feel the adrenalin rolling off him in waves. It was an oddly comforting feeling, one you had grown to know only too well. The kind Fox radiated after gruelling sessions guarding the Senate. Or after the occasional run-in with the cesspool of Coruscant’s underworld.

But it was most notable in these moments. When you had found a way to put yourself in the firing line again. When he couldn’t let his mask slip, when he couldn’t treat you as more than a senator under his protection. When all he could do was his job.

It was these moments afterwards that he needed you the most, that you needed him. It was in these moments, you knew exactly what you both needed.

You broke away, eyes never leaving his own as you took his arm.

“Take me home, Fox.”

----

Tag list:

@captainrexsfuturewife

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 24:

A/N: he he he so I wrote this after listening to The Night We Met and the theme of that runs through this chapter quite heavily I feel like. I wanted to draw parallels to their first ever meeting and them meeting now; for the first time in four years after so much has happened between them.

This will also be the last chapter of me keeping them apart, thank you sm for sticking w me (if there is even anyone reading this) but back to regularly scheduled programming and BS (pining in close proximity) in one chapter’s time! Hope you enjoy!

———

“Your nostalgia has created a non-existent country.” - George Seferis

———

*4 years post breakup*

You return home to DC for the first time in four years after graduating with a degree in criminology with a minor in psychology. You return when there’s a chill in the spring air and the leaves are beginning to sprout again. Sure, there may be something poignant to be said here about new beginnings, but nothing about returning home to DC feels like a new beginning or a fresh start.

It’s stagnant, bleak, and it feels like it’s weighing you down, because as you pass the streets and places you used to frequent once upon a time, memories come flooding back, like angry waves that fill your throat with a burning sensation and tears that you have to fight back.

Your father had been understanding over the years, made sure to give you space even though he’d wanted nothing more to see you again. You’d always declined, favouring to meet him in France when he was on assignment or having him fly out to Connecticut. But after he personally requested your presence for a gala event held at your childhood estate, you didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

So you find yourself being corralled through the airport by your father’s security detail, into the back of a car and driven home. When you arrive through the main gates on the North Side of the property, you do feel a momentary sense of calm wash over you, like the feeling of finally catching your breath after a run before the stitch sets in.

And God, does the stitch set in.

Your father’s eager to see you, standing outside of the main doors in his wool coat with a woman; who upon closer inspection, appears to be Emily. That sets a smile on your face and as soon as the car comes to a stop, you’re tackled by your father who wraps you in a big comforting hug, kissing the top of your head before Emily wraps you up in a hug too.

Breath of relief.

You’ve barely gathered your bearings and got the go ahead from your father to take some time for yourself before the main event tonight. With Emily, you begin making your way up the winding double staircase to your room when your eyes catch the open door to your father’s office down the hall.

And there’s the stitch.

You try not to feel it, the pang of yearning deep in your chest, to tamp it down and force yourself into thinking it’s not real - but it’s as real as the ground you’re walking on. The office is the first place you ever laid eyes on Hotch and your life changed forever. In the four years since being with Hotch, you’ve learned to take the waves of memories in stride, to allow them to wash over you and feel happy that it happened. Dare you say, even well-adjusted.

You’ve even dated. Briefly.

Dates here and there, but you never let it get too serious or go too far. Trust issues from having a psychotic, sadistic, stalker ex, coupled with people knowing who you are and what you’ve been through - and of course - Hotch. Emily stops halfway up the stairs when she realises you’re not following behind her, her eyes following yours to the office and narrowing.

“Everything okay?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, all good.” You say, shaking off your stupor and nodding, following her upstairs. “Tell me, how’s the Academy treating you?”

She takes a seat on your bed, wincing slightly. “Month 5 and I don’t think I’ve ever been as sore as I am now. And that includes the car pile up.”

You shake your head, laughing - you don’t know exactly when the two of you were able to make jokes and start laughing about how you almost died in a car pile up orchestrated by Jordan, but it does feel good to laugh. “That bad?” You ask.

“They have us lugging true-to-weight dummies over obstacle courses and stuff, it’s crazy. No idea where I might get assigned but I’m not opposed to leaving DC for a few years, Mother’s back in town.” She rolls her eyes.

“Shit.”

“Shit.” She mutters with you in unison.

You huff a laugh, jerking your chin in her direction. “How’s it going with Ena?”

She freezes for a split second and makes a casual face. “It’s… good? I mean, we don’t talk much, she’s more your friend than she is mine.”

You make an incredulous face and she knows you know. Truthfully she’s known you’ve known for a long time but she asks anyway. “How long have you known?”

You pick pieces of lint off your tights and make a small ball with them, flicking it at her. “Since our debutante ball and I caught you making out with Jessica DuPont in the bathroom.”

“Fuck! I knew you saw that, but Jessica told me not to worry.”

“Well I’m sure you were otherwise preoccupied.” You hint heavily.

“Oh shut up.” She laughs, throwing a cushion at you. “Enough about that, how about you? I haven’t seen you since you graduated, what’s next?”

You sigh.

“Dad got me a gig with Congresswoman Hayes back on the East Coast but I don’t know if I want to go down the politics route - I mean for God’s sake - if I wanted to go into politics I would’ve stayed in DC.” You sigh, moving over to your dresser and running a finger over the edge of your old jewellery box. “I want to do something good, exciting. I want to put my degree to use for one thing.”

“Ever thought about the Academy?” She asks. Her tone is light as though she’s joking but something inside you tugs at the thought.

It’s not a bad idea, says a faint voice in your head, but you shake it off. Too complicated, too messy, too easy to run into certain people.

“Yeah. Right.” You scoff.

It’s not a bad idea, says the voice again.

———

Classical music plays faintly in the corner, courtesy of a small chamber, who are dressed in all black. Champagne flutes are passed around on trays, the checkerboard floor gleams under the ambient chandelier light and hushed conversations seem to take a lull when you step into the room.

It’s barely discernible, happens only for a moment, but it definitely happens and you know it’s because this circle of people haven’t soon forgotten that you were taken hostage a few years ago. Your father greets you and Emily with a kiss to each of your temples, Ambassador Prentiss congratulates you stiffly on your graduation and you’re off making the rounds.

You’re already watching the clock, ready for it to hit eleven so you can finally shrug off the black Valentino cocktail dress you’ve squeezed yourself into. Tight smiles here, conversations about politics there, you’re bored out of your mind, throwing Emily covert looks from across the room to signal your annoyance.

You’re mid-conversation with councilman whatever-his-name-is, barely registering his monotonous tone and words about golf tees when you finally tap out. You’d turned around to find Emily’s eyes to tell her you’re ready for a well-earned break but you can’t seem to locate her. Excusing yourself politely, you place your empty champagne flute on a passing tray and that’s when all the breath leaves your lungs in a single gut punch.

It’s like time slows when across the room you lock eyes with the one person who changes the entire course of your evening, and unbeknownst to you yet, your future. Hotch stands in the grand doorway with his hands in his pockets as he’s being introduced to your father’s friends but he’s been watching you with a melancholic expression on his face long before you even became aware of his presence. Your vision tunnels until all you see is him, your stomach erupting with butterflies and your heartbeat quickening.

A lump forms in your throat. He’s the definition of a sigh for sore eyes, you hadn’t realised just how much you missed him; how much you’d wanted to see him until now. It’s like taking a drink after being parched in the desert, or the first easy breath after an arduous run. You want to drink your fill of him but before you can even smile at him or wave, you’re being pulled away by some woman with a too-strong grip and overpowering perfume.

When you turn back around, he’s gone. You wait an appropriate amount of time and engage distractedly in the conversation you’ve been dragged into before excusing yourself once again and leaving the ballroom. You walk down the long, quiet hallway and sit in the foyer outside of your father’s office at the end of the hall, exhaling roughly. After seeing Hotch tonight, you’re only reminded that every single part of your father’s house, your apartment, hell - even DC - is connected to him.

You drop your head in your hands, breathing evenly to try and quell the anxiety when a familiar presence ghosts over you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Hey, stranger.”

Your eyes well up with tears involuntarily at the sound of his voice, the tender, yet playful lilt to his words that you’d ached to hear for the last four years. You look up to find Hotch smiling at you, the same dopey smile he’d had for you back then, except his eyes are worn and tired - but still warm.

“Hey.” You whisper, voice raw with emotion.

“Thought I might find you out here.” You drop your hands in your lap. He always did know you better than you knew yourself. “Wanna take a walk?” He asks, nodding to the front doors.

You know you shouldn’t. Because you let him go. You’d let him go in never-ending 3am panic attacks that ended with your eyes red and swollen.

You’d let him go in days spent alone while he moved on without you.

You’d let him go in a cacophony of late nights bleeding into early mornings that you spent watching the moon disappear, wondering if he was sleeping soundly or suffering like you were. You know that this will undoubtedly undo all the effort you’ve made to get over him, but there’s a magnetic pull towards him. A self-destructive, everything-be-damned, undeniable pull that compels you to be with him.

You can’t seem to stop yourself. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges and he extends a hand out towards you to help you up. You stare at it, a new wave of emotions washing over you as you grab it, his skin warm and slightly calloused over the years, but still protective - feeling undeniably like home.

His own breath hitches when you grab his hand, but he quickly recovers, bending his arm at the elbow so you can slip your arm into the crook of his as you thank the security guards at the North entrance as they let you out.

The wind hits you like hundreds of tiny needles as soon as you step outside making you instinctively shudder and swear under your breath. It’s cold enough to see your own breath and you can see Aaron expel some from his nose as he laughs a little, unwinding his arm from yours to shrug off his jacket.

“I’m glad Yale didn’t tame that mouth of yours. Here.” He muses, draping his jacket over your bare shoulders.

“What about you?” You ask, instinctively burying your face in the collar. He still smells the same and it makes your heart seize for a moment, memories rushing back. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”

You both freeze for a moment, well aware of the deja-vu of this moment, it’s almost verbatim the same conversation you had on the day you met, back when you were hopeful and uncut by the reality of your circumstances.

He smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I let you freeze now, would it?” He jokes, nudging you with his shoulder as you descend down the steps of the front entrance.

You walk in tandem down the same winding path you did five years ago, the same maple trees creating a cove over the walkway. You don’t speak, letting all of the unspoken words from the last four years hang in the air, unsure of where to begin. Your goodbye four years ago had a finality to it, you’d given him the letter and said goodbye for good - and you’d all but admitted that you were in love with each other. And despite your efforts to tell yourself that you’re more well-adjusted now, daring even to say that you’re over him, you still hope that his sentiment from way back when hasn’t changed. Even though there’s no chance in hell, you hope he’s still in love with you.

Next to you, Hotch’s thoughts follow a similar pattern. He wouldn’t be surprised if you’d moved on, met somebody in college who had less baggage than him, could offer you everything he never could - stability, peace, hope. He hopes with everything that you’re happy but wishes a little more that you might still be in love with him.

You happen upon the gazebo eventually, the structure unchanged, exactly as you’d left it. You look up at Aaron only to find him already looking at you, a small smile pulling at both of your lips. He steps back and helps you up the steps with a hand in yours, and he follows in behind you as you take a seat on the ledge.

Your father’s staff have evidently been hard at work, placing lamplights along the deck of the gazebo with warm string lights, casting the grounds in a romantic light. Standing across from you with his hands in his pockets, he watches you with a warm, comfortable smile that makes you feel like you’re home.

“So, how was Yale? Your dad told me you majored in Criminology?”

You inhale deeply. “Yeah. It was great, I learned a lot and I’m glad I didn’t go down the poli-sci route, so thanks for talking me out of that.”

“I did what?” He chuckles.

“You talked me out of it - remember? The day we met? It was actually right here, I think… you said I should do what I want because it was my future?”

You remembered that?

He realises he’s hypocritical then, surprised that you remember a comment that should have been blasé and inconsequential when there’s nothing he’s ever forgotten about you. He exhales roughly, nodding and pushing past the lump in his throat. “Well. Don’t tell your father that, he might have a bone to pick with me yet.” He replies, levity in his voice.

And you can find yourself sinking back into old habits and old feelings, despite your hardest efforts to kick your feet and stay afloat, but his presence is like quicksand, and you’re drowning fast.

You roll your eyes. “I doubt that, Aaron. He loves you.”

His breath catches at hearing his name from your mouth after four years, and he swears he would put himself through hell if it meant he could hear it everyday.

“I don’t know about that, but I am definitely indebted to him. My gig at the BAU, I have a feeling that was your father - I saw him meeting with Barnes on my first day.” He crosses the deck and walks closer to you instinctually, before either of you can realise you’re almost face to face.

“Right! BAU! Tell me about that, how is it? Everything you dreamed?”

You’re everything he dreamed.

But he shakes off the impulse to say that and tells you that the hours are long, the job is arduous, taxing even but incredibly rewarding. “I heard Emily was at The Academy, too, how’s she doing?”

You nod. “Yeah, she’s a few months in now I think! Sore. All the time. Complains about it constantly but it’s the first time I’ve actually seen her excited about something, she just wants so badly to help everybody y’know? I’m worried she’ll run herself ragged.”

He shakes his head. “She’ll be great. I’ll look out for her if she’s ever assigned to Quantico.”

You smile. “Thanks, Aaron. She just needs someone looking out for her, too.”

“And who looks out for you?” He says it without thinking and for two reasons:

He’s worried you’re not taking care of yourself since Emily came to DC.

He’s worried that you may be seeing somebody.

He expects you to retreat but your next words, combined with the earnest look in your eyes knock the breath from his lungs.

“You look out for me.” You whisper with a sad smile.

A muscle in his jaw twitches in an attempt to hold off the lump in his throat and before he can stop it, his hand cups your cheek, a warm thumb running across your skin. Your eyes flutter closed and you lean into his touch, a breath of relief you didn’t even know was lodged in your chest finally, finally leaving you after four hellish years.

“Always.” He whispers back hoarsely. Reverently.

And you know he means it. The first man he’d ever killed had been for you, he’d put everything on the line for you, he’d loved you.

Both of your eyes are glassy, threatening to spill over with a storm of relief and sadness and just pure, undeniable love that you both know still exists between you.

But the circumstances still haven’t changed. His need to be a good father, a good husband and your need to find an identity independent of your past and who you used to be still exist. Although the latter seems more and more impossible as of late, and after tonight, you feel like writing it off completely.

You take a deep breath, working up the self-destructive nerve to tell him you miss him when the harsh, abrasive ring of his phone interrupts you. He closes his eyes, wincing as he pulls away from you and takes out his phone from his back pocket.

He groans, grimacing when he sees the text on the phone. “Work. Fuck.”

His heart begins to rattle in his chest, his fight or flight response setting in at the prospect of having to leave you so soon. You shake your head and hold out your hands in a ‘no worries’ gesture, already missing his hands on your skin.

He gives you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, looks like I gotta fly to Iowa tonight.” He tells you dejectedly, his shoulders bunching up with tension.

He desperately tries to take you in, grasping onto the remaining time he has left with you like sand through his fingers.

“Iowa, huh? Glamorous.” You joke sadly. You don’t feel much like letting your sadness show, instead choosing to make your last moments with him light and fun - happy. The way you couldn’t last time.

“Yeah the cornfields really tend to be awe-inspiring, I hear it’s New York 2.0.” He reciprocates, almost reading your mind.

You expel a laugh with your nose, hopping off the ledge and brushing off your dress. He watches you sympathetically but you reassure him again. “Well, Mr. FBI man… go. Save the victims, do your worldly duties and save another damsel or dude in distress.”

He smiles sadly. “It was really great to see you.” He whispers, holding out his arms. You accept eagerly, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders, slotting into his body perfectly, like you always did. His warmth, security and love radiate from him, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck and his arms wrap securely around your waist, holding you tight to him.

You both realise this could be the last ever meeting, and it feels almost like closure tonight. Like a better, less tumultuous goodbye than the last, but you’re both secure in knowing that what you had wasn’t a mistake. That despite the hurt and resistance and soul-crushing grief, you would both do it again, over and over until one day, maybe, you could get it right.

“I mean it, y’know.” He whispers into your shoulder. “You ever need me, I’ll be there. You can always call me because I’ll always watch for you. Until the day I die.” He makes sure you know it by squeezing you tight, moulding you into his body.

It feels almost like a love confession - replace watch for you - with something else and it would hold a different, heavier meaning. Your eyes sting and you sniff, willing the tears to retreat as you both pull back, instantly missing the embrace of one another. You begin to shrug off his jacket for him, but he stops you.

“Keep it. It’s cold out.”

“Okay.” You offer with no resistance. You don’t want to admit it to the healthier part of yourself but the unhealthy part of you revels in having something of his to remember him by.

“Well. I should go.” He suggests heavily and your chest constricts.

“Yeah. Iowa and it’s cornfields await. Be safe, Aaron.”

Haley says it to him every time he leaves home but it’s the first time he’s taken it to heart, felt the love that comes with the statement. He nods, and musters a small smile before taking a deep breath and walking down the steps of the gazebo.

You close the front of his suit jacket to offer yourself a sense of pseudo security when you hear him call out to you halfway down the path.

“Give The Academy some thought? The FBI would be lucky to have you.”

You brush him off, laughing at the idea of ever doing something so intense and brave, because it feels like everything you’re not. You watch him walk away, the feeling of drowning in his love not hurting as much anymore - the love is still there - undeniably, still there. But the hurt is different. Sweeter. His is still your favourite chapter in your book. It’s blurred by so much pain and agony and confusion - you’re not sure anybody outside of the two of you could ever make sense of what you had, of what occurred between you.

It was exhilarating, self-affirming and addictive in a way you’d never known until him.

He spends the flight to Iowa with the same strange pang in his chest, rubbing his fingers over the pendant of your necklace after Gideon goes to sleep, but this time, he has an undeniable smile on his face.

His words stick with you though. Like an inner voice that rings in the quietest moments, his presence making you feel lighter, a complete 180 from the way you felt when you arrived in DC less than 24 hours ago.

After another year of trying to quell his voice in your mind, and listen to your own self-doubt, you fail.

He wins out, so that fall, you apply to the FBI Academy.

———

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[littleredwing89]

LittleRedWing89 Writing Challenge

Hello Everyone!!!

I can’t believe it, but...It has been almost one year since I started writing here on Tumblr for all you fabulous people and I wanted to do something to celebrate that. So...I’ve decided to host a writing challenge!!

  RULES:

1) Please send me the request you want to write for by the end of the day on Monday 6th September.

2) All entries to be posted by Sunday 3rd October.

3) Please either send me a direct message or an ask stating the prompt you wish to you and the character you will be writing about.

4) Open to DC characters only.

5) Even if a prompt is taken, it doesn’t matter, you can still ask for it.

6) No rape. No paedophilia. No racism or homophobia. Please tag all stories appropriately if it is smut/NSFW.

7) This is optional but please reblog so more people can see and possibly enter the challenge!

8) You don’t have to be following me to enter.

9) My inbox/ask box is open if you have any questions.

10) Please can you tag all entries with the following #littleredwing89challenge - this way I can find them all and make a master list once we’re done!

11) If you struggle to meet the deadline, please let me know. It’s not a problem!

**IMPORTANT**

Please tag all entries with the following #littleredwing89challenge

I cannot wait to see what you all create!!

Remember, let’s have some fun!

Lots of Love

Elle xoxo

🖤🧡🖤🧡

PROMPTS BELOW: (Prompts borrowed from here)

OPTION 1:

“Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

“It’s you, it always has been.”

“You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

“Kiss me.”

“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.”

“You should probably go home.” “But I’m already home.”

“You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

“Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Could you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.”

“I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

“You are my family.”

“I’m right here.”

“Can you just please hold me?”

“I’m pretty sure (you’re/she’s/he’s/they’re) my soulmate”

“You come here often?” “Well considering I work here, yes.”

“You know, I think my (mother/father/parents) would be proud if I brought (you/her/him/them) home.”

“I just want to see you happy.”

“I haven’t seen (her/him/them) smile like that in ages.”

“You made me a better person. Thank you.”

“I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a mansion with some (girl/boy/person) I barely know.”

“This reminded me of you.”

“Your hair is really soft.”

“You’re really warm.”

“Are you blushing?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Because I love you.”

“I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.”

“I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”

“Make a wish!”

“I love seeing you smile.”

“Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.”

“I just want to be there for you.”

“I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

“You’re just a softie.”

“You owe me.” “Fine, whatever you like.”

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Why are you scared of loving?”

“You are crushing me right now.”

“Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

“I love you.”

“You’re an idiot.” “But I am your idiot.”

“Take my hand. Just trust me.”

“You’re hurt. Please just let heal it.”

“At least let me clean it.”

“I told you to take care of yourself.”

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

“Stay.”

OPTION 2:

“It’s pouring rain why are you here?”

“I love you.” “You shouldn’t.”

“Where are you?”

“What happened?”

“Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”

“Is that my book?”

“Are they dead?”

“You want to play pretend? Well two can play at that game.”

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

“Come back to bed. Please.”

“You’re who they warned me about.”

“Come back.”

“You should’ve listened to me.”

“I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that.” “You drink to everything.” “Cheers!”

“Why is there a deer in the room?”

“Is that vodka? At 7 in the morning?”

“I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.”