#I am trying to write a completely separate fic?

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - hidden motive

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.6k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers to ‘hidden motive’ (zayne’s misty invasion card), knee humping, titty sucking, titty sucking through clothes, titty nibbling (zayne is a boobie fiend), slight predator and prey, switch!zayne (he’s dom but kinda needy and vulnerable), use of Y/N, sub!reader, unprotected sex, cumming in panties, reader on top

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | sylus's version | raf's version | xav's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: haiiii guyssss i decided to upload the boys’ misty invasion fics one at a time! first up is baby zayne <3 his card inspired me so much, it was so intimate and passionate. 

next up will probably be sylus, hopefully will post in maybe 3ish days! I haven’t watched raf’s or xav’s but i have ideas for them. I’m excited to write, i’m praying i don’t burn out…hope you guys enjoy :) love ya’ll! also i am more active on twitter if you guys would like to follow me there, my link is in my masterpost!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

Spontaneity was not something Zayne preferred to indulge in.

He had enough of it in his hectic surgery schedule, so in his personal life he tried to keep things as predictable as possible. 

Yet he was graced with an absolute menace of a girlfriend, who, from the second she walked into his life, created chaos in her wake. Always running off on faraway Hunter missions, telling him only after she’d already left. Coming back injured, with a frustratingly adorable and sheepish smile, trying, and failing, to convince him she was fine. 

God, you drove him utterly insane.

Which is why now, the normally composed, self-assured, and controlled, chief cardiac surgeon was unraveling at the seams beneath your seemingly innocent touch.

“Why does it smell sweeter than usual?” Zayne’s voice is raspy and breathless from the torrid and heated kiss the two of you had just been locked in. The razor blade and shaving cream had long since been discarded and forgotten. 

Before you can respond, he’s pulling your wrist towards his reddened face, making you fall on top of him from your seat on his lap. You’re left straddling his one knee as you fall forward. Your wrist grips the leather recliner cushion by his head to catch you as he cups your lower back, just above your rear, pressing your body deeper into his.

He nuzzles his face into your wrist that's planted beside his head, absolutely enraptured by the scent of your lotion. The scent of you. 

Taking another deef lung full of your pheromones mixed with your fruity lotion, his intense hazel eyes desperately seek yours, like he’s conveying his desires with the golden green orbs. You open your mouth to question his unusual behavior, but Zayne’s one step ahead of you. His knee raises to push your backside towards him, making you lose your grip completely and collapse completely atop him. 

The recliner chair swings wildly at your combined movements, and you find yourself struggling to steady yourself. In your brief moment of helplessness, Zayne hoists you towards him, burying his face into your chest. His lips find your collarbone instantly, his knee nestled between your thighs to help balance you. 

You gasp at his tongue lapping languidly at your fragrant skin, your fingers grasping his shoulders as he sucks at your sensitive collar, no doubt leaving a bruise. His lips dance dangerously close to where your silk camisole hangs off the swell of your breasts. 

“Are you taking a break from work?” you ask between your raspy pants. Zayne continues to indulge in your skin, moving lower until his face meets your hardened nipples, separated only by a thin layer of silk. His tongue softly brushes against the soft material of your top, stroking at the swollen peaks through the smooth fabric. His knee grinds into your thighs, craving the warmth and dampness of his most favorite place.

He has to physically pry himself away from your chest, a dusting of deep peach painting his flustered face.

“Do I look like I can work right now?” His question is simple, but the aggressive demand that hides underneath them is urgent, nearly feral. You don’t get a chance to get another word out before he’s sinking back into the warmth of your chest.

This time, his lips close over your entire nipple through the soft silk of your sleeping cami, making you cry out in surprise. Your fingers grip his hair as he absolutely devours you through your top, the silk dampening with his saliva. His teeth come down to graze your sensitive peaks and you have to push him back before you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“...You don’t have to be so intense,” you urge him, despite the clear and inarguable fact that you want more. Clear from the way the panties you’d slept in start to dampen against his bare knee that peeks out from his robe. 

Zayne looks unamused, almost sulky, as he mutters, “No working, and not allowed to do anything else…” He looks up at you, mischief briefly flashing across his eyes

He sits up, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulder and bringing you to him in an intimate embrace. You flail forward at his sudden movements, the rocking of the recliner chair making it impossible to find any balance. He takes the opportunity to drive his knee deeper into your core, making you moan lewdly. His chin rests on your bare shoulder, words hot and breathy against your pulsing neck, “Well then…my love, what exactly do you allow me to do?” 

His actions make it difficult for you to speak, brain focussing solely on the pleasure he’s both giving you and keeping from you. At your wordless moans of excitement, Zayne continues.  

“Will you allow me to do this?” he rocks his knee deeper into you, effectively humping you against his leg. Your nails dig into his muscled back at the unexpected ecstasy, his knee rubbing against your clit in the most sinfully perfect ways. 

Zayne hisses at the feeling of the sting of your nails, only making him more desperate to take you right there on his living room chair, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With his lips at your neck, he slowly and torturously pulls the flimsy straps of your loose top down, until your breasts are pressing against his exposed chest underneath his luxurious bathrobe. 

His hands descend to hold your waist firmly, gently pulling you away from his chest so his hungry mouth can find your soft breasts again. 

You throw your head backwards when his warm and wet mouth captures your bare skin into its embrace. Zayne is absolutely relentless, bouncing you filthily on his thigh as he absolutely devours your breasts. His teeth and tongue work in tandem to suckle pretty little bruises into the swell of your chest, and around your pert nipples. 

Zayne looks up at you from underneath his eyelashes, heated irises drinking in your quivering form atop him. His erection pushes against the feeble restraints of his tied robe, creating a tent in his lap that twitches with anticipation. It brushes against your stomach as he grinds his knee into you, giving him just enough friction to need to bite into your breast to hold back his desperate moans. 

You cling to him, trusting him to take all control of your body and of your pleasure. Your nails continue to draw angry red welts into his back, as you feel the familiar coiling of ecstasy in your gut. 

You tap desperately on his shoulders, not wanting to make a mess in your panties that are already sticking to your wet folds.

“Z-Zayne, wait I —” 

He brings his thumb to your lips, pressing softly against your parted lips, all the while his own lips never leave your aching tits. Against them, he mumbles, “Don’t deny me. Please.”

You’re briefly snapped out of the mind numbing pleasure of your quickly approaching orgasm at the sound of his plea, bordering on a feral demand. It’s so rare to hear him so unraveled and desperate, to hear him demanding things from you. A man who never asked anything of anyone, especially not of you, the one person he treasured more than life itself. It’s so rare and raw that you can’t help but want to give him everything he wants. 

You bury your face into the top of his head, his addicting scent invading your senses, and you kiss him gently, “Never, I would never deny you.”

Zayne inhales sharply, groaning at your sweet words, ”Good girl.” He pulls you down fully on top of him again, the leather chair reclining until it’s nearly flat. Your ass is arched into the air, your face pressed into his chest, as his knee pushes into you with renewed vigor. 

His lips find themselves sucking urgently at your nipples again, his knee moving faster, wanting to see his beautiful girl come undone all over his thighs. His tongue lathers tortuous circles around your hardened and swollen peaks, soothing the areas in which his teeth bite down softly. 

“Let me see you, love. Please. I haven’t gotten to feel you since you ran off into danger without telling me, again.”

Your heart clenched as you realized that was where all this desperation and vulnerability was coming from. You want to apologize, but his unforgiving knee against your weeping cunt made it nearly impossible to get the syllables out.

“I-I’m – nnghh – m’sorry.” 

His hand roughly grabs your chin, turning you to level with his smoldering hazel eyes. His voice is gruff and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in doubt, “Are you, sweetheart?”

You whine at his words, his actions only becoming more relentless, as if forcing the responses he wants out of you, “I am!”

The corner of his lips curl up, so faint you can barely see it. An arrogance Zayne so rarely lets show. 

“Then show me. Show me how sorry you are.” With each demand, his leg drives harshly into your clit. You nod vigorously, eager to please him.

His darkened green eyes cling to yours, his voice deceptively calm and soothing, “Say it, love.” 

You want to respond but the way he’s punctuating his every word with a hard intentional thrust of his knee into your aching cunt makes it impossible to do anything but moan lewdly into his ear, your head hanging down with your hair falling over your eyes.

He pinches your abused nipple, guiding your eyes back to his demanding hazel ones, the golden flecks glowing brightly as they savor the sight of you.

“I-I’m – unghh – s-sorry. Should’ve told you. I’ll be good, just-just let me cum f’you!” You bury your face into his neck, embarrassed by the words coming out of your mouth but unable to stop them all the same. 

“Let me see you,” he grunts. When you lift your head, bleary eyes fixing on his, he smiles. It's faint but effervescently warm. 

“That’s my girl. Now tell me, hm? How is my beautiful girl going to make it up to me?”

Your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed by the pleasure his knee brings you, and the raw feelings that are masked behind his lewd words. His facade of filthy demands that hide the suffocating emotions, the same emotions he’d felt when he saw your name on the list of hunters dispatched to the wanderer quarantine zone. Emotions that he was now taking out on your ever-so responsive body. 

“Anything you want Zayne, anything,” you gasp, your eyes locked into his as he continues to hump his knee into you, 

His breath catches audibly at your words, pulling your chin towards him to capture your lips in a raw and passionate kiss, one that felt like it might stop time and space as you knew it. 

At his intensely possessive lips, his throaty demands, his insistent knee wedged into your cunt, it isn’t long before you come undone all over his knee. You cum with a strangled cry, your fingers digging crescents into his muscled shoulders. Your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of the filthy dampness against the fabric of your panties. Zayne groans at the angelic sight of your face contorted into pure pleasure, his erection painfully hard against his silken robe, pressed into your quivering belly. The heavenly vision of you cumming was almost enough to have him erupting right against your stomach.

“That’s it my love, just like that,” Zayne coos as you cum over his knee, still rocking gently into you as he helps you ride out the waves of your ecstasy. His slender fingers rub soothing circles into the small of your back, cooling your burning skin. 

“So good, so good for me,” he murmurs into your hair, your head resting on his shoulders as the post-orgasm tremors come and go. His lips press into your scalp, the moment feeling absolutely  and idyllically perfect. 

You’re so blissed out you almost don’t feel him shifting beneath you, slender fingers pulling your soaked panties to the side. It isn’t until you feel the all-too familiar feeling of his fat leaking cockhead nestled between your folds, right at the entrance to your most sensitive parts, that your bleary eyes open.

You watch him, cock in his fist, swiping up and down your drenched lips, head hung down in pleasure as he watches the way your pussy quite literally invites him in. A thin layer of sweat glistens on his furrowed forehead, his restraint hanging on by a thread as he tries to calm himself before he burrows into you like an absolute animal. 

You grab him by his chin, guiding him to look up at you. You take his throbbing manhood into your own fingers, in place of his. He stares at you heatedly, your languid actions driving him to the edge of insanity. Your body quivers as his cockhead catches on your clit, your body still reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced on his knee. 

Zayne’s hand encompasses yours, your joined palms holding his aching cock at the base. He repeats his plea from earlier, his voice raspy and breathless, “Show me.” 

His desperation makes you bite your lip in anticipation, and you nod before sinking down onto his thick member. Your body grapples with the stretch as you slide further and further down, as Zayne writhes below you, panting rapidly and fingers digging into your waist. 

“You’re so damn perfect,” he rasps, fingers bruising your hips with the intensity in which they grab you, “Give me more, please love.”

You grin at his rare pleas, teasing him by stopping halfway, not letting him enter you fully. His desperate moans and grunts make you giggle, and you relish in the way his large hands hold you so possessively, in the way only you are able to make him lose control.

Zayne chuckles darkly at your teasing antics, “You don’t sound very apologetic, sweetheart.” He raises his eyebrow at you, in a playful warning. You open your mouth to speak, but it’s cut off with a scream when he slams you down on his thick length, his strong grip pulling you down until your ass meets his thighs. 

The impact of your thighs against Zayne’s lap is sinful. Zayne groans at the way he can feel the globes of your ass shake against him, your pussy clenching to accommodate the sudden stretch. And Zayne doesn’t even let you ride him, instead using the raw strength of his arms and thighs to bob you up and down his length, in a rhythm that had you seeing white.

“Nnghh – P-Please Zayne!” you plead, but for what you’re not even sure. You certainly don’t want him to stop or slow down. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding on while he bounces you like you weigh absolutely nothing. 

Zayne grunts in response, too lost in the feeling of how your walls cling to him, how your body responds to his touch and thrusts like he owns you. 

“Always — hah — throwing yourself — fuck! — into danger. Without telling me,” he grits out, his thrusts into you harsh and passionate all at the same time. You can tell by his tone that he’s more hurt than he is angry about you running off to the frontlines of a nearby wanderer quarantine. The deep timbre of his voice conveys more worry and vulnerability than it does domination and accusation. 

Your heart flutters at how adorably pouty Zayne was being, in his own way. It was rare for him to act on his emotions like this, and it reminded you of how far the two of you had come. His hands gripped you forcibly, almost as if he was afraid you’d disappear on him again. His face buried into your chest, savoring your intoxicating scent like it was the air he needed to survive. The way your warm plush skin tasted on his tongue and felt against his canines.

So you let him throw you around like a fucktoy, letting him feel how absolutely and irrevocably his, you were. You held him tightly to your chest, kissing the shell of his ear as he rutted into you like a madman, suckling on your breasts like he thought you might lactate for him. The blend of possessive domination and raw neediness was driving you insane. 

Zayne tears himself away from your chest, looking up at you with heated expectation, his eyes hazy with animalistic desire, “Nothing to say, Y/N?” He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that prods against your g-spot, all the way to your cervix. 

You gasp out, almost choking for air, “M’sorry Zayne. I-I’ll make it up t’y-you.” His fingers grip you tighter as he relentlessly bounces you on his lap, his fat cock bullying into your g spot. Your teeth dig into your lip as you feel your cunt trembling, close to release.

Zayne nestles his face into the area where your neck meets your collarbone, gasping out as you get increasingly tighter, until it feels like he’s suffocating with pleasure.

“Let me cum in you,” he growls, moving back to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts, lapping at a reddened bruise he’d unwittingly left there. Zayne normally wasn’t keen on these juvenile displays of affection, leaving hickeys like a horny highschooler. But something about the way you constantly threw yourself into the face of danger for others, left him uncharacteristically uncontrollable and unrestrained. 

“Let me leave my mark in you so you know better than to go running off into danger without me again.” 

A string of whimpers escapes your mouth at his possessive yet sensitive words, clearly still miffed at the memory of your injured state after saving the pair of young siblings in the quarantine zone. Your talented, self-controlled, god-like surgeon, falling apart at the seams, for you.

It’s all enough to have you at the cusp of another mind-bending orgasm, your eyes rolling up as you try to warn him, “Z-Zayne, c-close.”

Zayne chuckles as you warn him. How adorable you were to think he needed to be told, as if he didn’t know your body like the back of his hand. That he couldn’t feel the telltale way your pussy pulsed and quivered around his cock, so tightly it threatened to break him.

“Look at me, my love. I need to see you.” He rams up into you, hands possessively on your hips, bringing you down forcefully with each upward thrust. You focus your eyes on him, eyelids hooded with an exhausted pleasure.

Through your blurry vision, you can see that Zayne is close too. His jaw ticks dangerously, teeth grit to hold the swears back. His golden emerald eyes meet yours, and he smiles, his fingers threading into the back of your head.

“Just like that, look at me when you cum,” he demands, pulling your face forward to capture your lips in a final kiss that would have you tumbling down the cliff of ecstasy. His tongue demands entry, teasing the seam of your lips. His fingers cup your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. 

You moan into his mouth as your body succumbs to yet another orgasm, your fingernails scraping into his back. Zayne groans into you as the sting of your nails against his skin intensifies the pleasure of your pussy practically wringing his cock dry, forcing the orgasm out of him.

It’s a passionate and furious gnashing of tongue and skin, his thighs, wet with your release, pounding up into you. Your combined whimpers of pleasure mix with the wet smacks of your ass against his thighs, creating the most sinful blanket of lust-filled ecstasy in Zayne’s living room. 

His seed erupts inside you, hot, plenty, and demanding. Demanding to be inside you. Demanding to claim you. 

Zayne’s thrusts slow, but don’t stop, plugging you completely full of him. He finally pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily as goosebumps of overstimulation litter his skin. He keeps going until you tap his shoulders in surrender. He chuckles, lifting you easily off of him, removing himself from you.

Your thighs quiver as you remain seated on Zayne’s lap, his fingers rubbing delicate circles on your waist. His lips brush gentle kisses on your collar, savoring the moment of intimacy and adoration that falls over the two of you. 

Zayne shifts so that he can look at you, cupping your chin gently in his fingers.

“How are you feeling Y/N?” His deep voice is filled with concern, eyes searching yours, “Was I too…enthusiastic?”

You giggle tiredly, your voice filled with playful teasing, “Maybe a bit. But I loved it. I love you.”

Zayne chuckles, bringing your face back down to rest on his chest, his bare skin peeking through the robe that had become untied amidst all the movement. He cradles your head against his body, his arms secure and protective against you, his lips pressing kisses into the top of your head.

“Can you blame me?” He presses his lips into the space below your ear, leaving a trail of kissing down your neck and along your shoulders.

“When you’re constantly worried about the woman you love…it can leave one a bit pent up.”

His lips on your singed skin has you shivering against him, your fingers trailing up and down his chest, “And are you still…pent up?”

The corner of Zayne’s lips quirk up, the blood rushing back south as he feels you writhe against his most fleeting touches. Always so responsive to his touch.

Zayne uses one hand to guide your chin up towards him, his smile hungry and affectionate all at the same time. His other hand holds yours, and you jolt off his chest when he wraps your fingers around something wet, hot, and hard.

“You could say that.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[viaisms]

twenty questions

summary: penelope accidentally mentions that someone has a crush on you, she can't say who it is but you make it into a game so she can :) warnings: spencer reid x bau!reader, gn reader, mentions of drinking wine, pg-13 language, talk of bugs?? its a nickname,,, lots of use of pet names lol, fluff, no mention of y/n yeehaw, pining, you're completely oblivious about how much spencer wants you, not proofread </3 authors note: first fic!! i haven't officially written a fic in. gosh, years?? since the pandemmy :( i really want to get back into writing, so have this little blurb that i thought of! by all means i am here for any constructive criticism you may have<3 wc: 2.7k

The clatter of fingertips tapping against a keyboard filled the dimly lit BAU office. You sit at your desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as you scroll through reports, cross-referencing case files and taking notes. The quiet hum of the building has long since settled into a lull; you barely realize how deeply you've fallen into your work,

The distant ticking of a clock finally breaks your trance, but it wasn't until you feel the hairs arise on the back of your neck that you become fully aware. You slowly blink with a quiet groan, glancing at the time at the bottom of your screen.

10:58 PM. Shit.

You align your fingertips atop of your keyboard, the soft clatter filling the office once more before you hear the all-too familiar voice.

"Babes, what are you still doing here?!"

You turn and see nobody else but Garcia, finally emitting from her bat-cave. Her arms cross against her chest, a disappointed hum coming from her pressed lips. "You, my love, should be at home in a nice hot bath with a glass of wine."

Your lips splay a lazy smirk as you lean back in your chair, stretching your body with a quiet groan. "I was just about to wrap up, Pen, I promise..." You assure your colleague, feeling the strain of staring at a screen all day every time that you blink.

"Good deal my beautiful bug," Penelope chirps as her arms drop to her side. She's just as tired as you are, having spent all of her day digging through databases to find information on a potential UnSub. Her heals click as she goes to turn away, walking back towards her office.

"You know, you have to get your beauty sleep for your lover boy in the mor..." Her once confident words grow timid as she begins to trail off.

Penelope's breath catches in her throat as she realizes the words that so effortlessly flew off her tongue, her blood running cold at her grave error. Spencer is going to kill her.

"My what?" Your eyes narrow, scoffing in a confused manner.

She stills, yet she doesn't turn to you.

"Nothing! I... I didn't say anything..." She mutters with a nervous stammer of your name, the rhythmic clicking of her heels continuing as she speeds to her office.

You stand, the wheels of your office chair sliding out from under you as you feel a weakness in both of your legs. You stretch once more, trying to think of when the last time you even stood was.

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her hand is resting on the cold, slick material of the doorknob that has the potential to separate her from this deep abyss that she just dug herself into. Instead, she stills for another moment before turning to you once more.

Penelope has to think of a lie, and quick.

"Obviously... I was talking about Morgan!"

There is a reason why she does what she does for a living, and is rarely out on the field with the rest of the crew unless her technical skills are needed.

Your eyes squint with a tentative hum. You don't believe Garcia, not for a second.

"You do know I'm a profiler..." A grumble of amusement comes from your chest at Penelope's attempt.

"Right..." She murmurs, her voice quiet as she breaks your gaze. She's mentally kicking herself for blabbing, such a rookie mistake in the game of workplace gossip.

Your eyebrows raise as you await Garcia's confession. However, she stays strong, not uttering another peep from her velvet-painted lips.

"So...?" You sing after a beat of silence, stars of hope glistening in the pools of your eyes.

With a whine, Penelope's shoulders drop.

"Look... I love you, sweetness, I do..." Her lips droop into a frown. Penelope's eyes greet your own somberly with a shake of her own head. "But I promised I wouldn't tell..."

You feel a weight of disappointment on your chest, and with a sigh, you decide to drop it. Penelope sees the way the sparkle in your eye begins to dim, eliciting a whine from her barely audible to your own ears.

"But!" She chirps, trying to share some of her own light with you. Penelope shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it. However, she is far too nurturing to let a beautiful smile like yours falter for even a second. "If you guess it... it's not technically me telling you, right?"

"You know? I like the way your mind thinks," You hum, reveling in the fact that you got your way. "Twenty questions?" The cold sensation of the faux-leather hits you as you sit back in your chair.

The corner of Penelope's lips twitch upwards as a combination of guilt and excitement course through her veins. "You know I love a good game, hit me..." She murmurs, her voice self-assured as she pulls a chair from a nearby desk, her legs crossing as she sits next to you.

"Okay..." You mutter with a shaky sigh. The pounding of your heart fills your entire body, your stomach slightly cramping with nerves. "Is it someone I know?"

"Uh, duh?"

Your eyes flutter shut, raking through potential victims that fell for whatever love trap you didn't even intent on setting. "Male or female?"

"Acht! That's not part of the rules my curious friend and you know it," Her dark eyes narrow as she playfully scolds her colleague. "I'm totally counting it though, eighteen more questions..."

With pressed lips, you weigh out the obvious individuals who are least likely to be a contender. Penelope sees how deep you are in thought, and she can't help herself but quietly scoff.

How can you not know it's Spencer? She thinks to herself. Everyone around the office sees it -- everyone but you, apparently. As you think, her mind wanders to about two months prior, where Spencer came to her for love advice. Penelope, being herself, already knew he was fawning over you. She picked up on it the moment the genius somehow grew more awkward every time he were to speak to you.

However, also being herself, she refused to give him any sound advice until he spilled who the lucky contender was; which just so happened to be you.

The sound of your voice pulls her out of her own mind.

"Do I see them often?"

The corners of her lips prop upwards, almost tauntingly. "Very," she affirms.

Someone you see very often... you mentally walk through your day-to-day routine, retracing every step no matter how minuscule. You awake every morning to nobody in your apartment but your cat, besides the occasional sleepover with a friend every now and again. You ready yourself for work alone, your first stop in the morning being the local coffee shop down the street...

"Ooh! Is it someone from the coffee shop?" You chirp, your heart beginning to race at the idea of an unspoken stranger admiring your beauty from afar. Individuals you see there on a day-to-day basis flood your mind, although it completely falls empty for the exception of one person; a barista behind the counter, roughly your age who is not bad looking in the slightest.

"That would be a negative..." Her red-painted lips press together, a slight pang of disappointment hitting you in the gut that it wasn't the barista.

"Darn..." You tut, your mind trying to silently place the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone you know, someone you see often, not someone from the coffee shop...

Penelope can't believe how oblivious you are. How do you not pick up on the fact that Spencer follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Or the fact that when the two of you are on the field together, he insists you go with him or vice versa because he feels the need to protect you?

"No way that it's a colleague?" Your brows stitch together, your head slanting as you throw the inconceivable idea into the open.

Penelope's head slightly tilts downwards as she gazes at you through the top of her frames. She flashes you a sly, almost flirtatious grin at your not-so-far-fetched theory.

"And if it is?"

The feeling of your heart hammering in your heart is felt throughout your entire body, your cheeks warming as you feel blood rush to your brain.

"Who?!" You exclaim, completely forgoing the rules to the game. This narrows your options to about seven. Your hands fumble with the cotton on the hem of your shirt as you narrow your options down even further, a shuttering breath falling from your lips.

"How do you not know?!" Penelope is quick to match your energy, an actual pain shooting through her chest at your own naivety. Her brows raise as her eyes widen, her fists balling as she folds herself back from blurting it out.

Your lips part as you're about to exclaim something quick and witty back to your colleague when it hits you. Like a fish gulping for water, you feel the soft skin of your lips quickly snap shut.

The memories hit you all at once: the mornings you're in a rush and you forget your coffee - Reid excusing himself for a moment with a muttered excuse before returning with it minutes later, the nights you return home from a case and he offers to spend time with you because it pains you being alone after what you saw, the countless facts he will ramble to you on the plane because damn it, you're the only one that actually listens to him.

"Oh my god, Reid?" Your jaw drops as you gasp, your arms numbing as your nerves shoot past the roof and to the stratosphere.

With a relieved sigh, Penelope's palms slap against her thighs, planting her leg down onto the floor with her other one. "Finally!" She groans, almost feeling a sense of comfort that you know and the weird tension around the office while the two are around would soon come to an end.

"Since when?!" Your heart ticks against your chest so hard that you can hear it in your ears. Never in a million years would you assume it would be Spencer that would be silently pining over you. Reid?!

"Since like... forever, buttercup!" Penelope giggles. She can see the dots being connected in the pretty little brain of yours, and god, she loves it. Her voice softens, a warm, almost maternal intent behind them. "We really should be getting home..." She groans, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. "Since you two are totes madly in love already, let me know when one of you decides to make the move, okay?"

With a roll of your eyes, the back of your hand ever so gently strikes the side of Garcia's arm. She notices the way blush speckles across your face, a knowing grin playing against her own. You can't ignore the way your chest fuzzes over at the thought of Spencer feeling about you the way you feel about him, it makes your stomach ache with desire; you don't know if you love or hate the sensation.

"Goodnight, Garcia..." A mix between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment is emitted from you. She mumbles a quick 'good night' with a quick, playful wink before standing from her chair, returning it to its original home.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The next morning you're in a hurry to get to work, oversleeping by a long shot as it took you forever to wind down last night due to your wandering thoughts.

You get to your desk with merely minutes to spare, a tired, overwhelmed groan falling from your lips as you place your bag in your desk and splay your jacket against the back of your chair.

"Long night last night, agent?"

You don't even have to look up to know who it is... your body freezes for a moment, not sure if you're prepared to deal with this; not yet, anyways.

With a soft sigh, your gaze is lifted and immediately greeted with Spencer's. His large, curious and caring stare. His hazel eyes almost bare into your own, causing a tingle to run down your spine. You try to ignore the butterflies that patter within the walls of your stomach, yet they're hard to confine.

"Yeah... I'm fine, Reid," You nod, your lips tentatively pressing together. "Just didn't sleep worth the damn last night... just... thinking about the case..." You trail, the sound of your voice growing softer and quieter like a beautiful decrescendo.

His lips part for just a moment, an inaudible 'ah' coming from him before giving you an understanding nod.

"I figured... Garcia told me you were here late last night and I kind of... presumed this may happen," He muses with an awkward chuckle. "Which is why... I brought you this..."

Reid's tall frame trails away from your desk for a moment, which draws out a soft hum from you as you tap your fingertips against the smooth, cool material of your desk.

His long stride is quick to return, your heart almost leaping out of your throat as he sees what's within his long, slender fingers.

Your favorite coffee.

You accept the gesture, your stomach doing flips as you take the cup within the confines of your own grasp. You mumble something quick and playful, telling Spencer that he is your favorite person in the world right now for such a small action.

The feeling of someone else watching you is burned into the back of your skull, a sensation churning in your gut that you can't shake. Your gaze flicks over to the side, in which you're immediately greeted by Garcia.

She not-so-subtly flashes two thumbs up at you, her nails painted a shade of dark purple. "Go get 'em!" She mouths in approval, your gaze quickly turning over to the male in front of you in attempt to hide Penelope's matchmaking attempt.

"Hey... do you um... maybe want to get coffee at this place together sometime?" You attempt to thickly swallow down your nerves, trying to soothe the heartbeat creeping out of your chest.

Spencer is silent a moment, his lips twitching upwards in a sign of approval at your suggestion. You see the thoughts shifting through his mind, the rates of his blinks increasing in a sense of disbelief that you're actually asking him this.

"I-- um... yeah! Let's do tomorrow before work? If... you're okay getting up that early, if not we can totally do a different time, perhaps--"

"Tomorrow it is..." You cut him off, something you rarely do. He nods in agreement, a quiet 'tomorrow' mumbled from his lips as he attempts to conceal his excitement.

You’re not sure how to shake off the butterflies in your stomach, but Spencer’s shy smile is enough to make you feel warm all over. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the moment linger. Before you can say anything else, Garcia’s voice breaks through your thoughts, louder than life.

"You two better not cancel on me! I want details!" she teases from across the room, flashing a mischievous grin your way. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

Spencer, now fully aware of the matchmaker’s antics, lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking even more flustered than before.

You meet his gaze again, a new kind of tension settling between you—a mix of nerves, excitement, and something deeper that you’re not ready to name just yet. You take a breath, feeling that the next chapter of whatever this is has already started, and it’s thrilling.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, unable to stop the grin that’s threatening to split your face. Spencer nods, his smile small but genuine, as he turns to head to his desk.

As he walks away, you catch a glimpse of Garcia again, this time with an exaggerated wink. You shake your head, but you can’t suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, to say the least.

And maybe... just maybe, things are finally falling into place.

[cheswirls]

started this au last year n wrote close to 5k in notes and then blazed thru almost 20k in 2 or 3 days and then tabled it past adding more notes bc i couldnt. idk. mental roadblock. more interesting things.

anyway i picked it back up the other night n ended what i would consider pt 1 at 25k and completely reignited my passion + drive for it so instead of switching drafts ill prolly steamroll into pt2 and see where it takes me

[inkedbybarnes]

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[sundrop-writes]

Loverboy

Bratty!Virgin!Spencer Reid x (Dom)Fem!Reader

Summary:

You try your best to make Spencer’s first time a good one. Spencer can’t hold himself back, and makes it an incredibly memorable night for the both of you.

Bratty!Virgin!Spencer Reid x (Dom)Fem!Reader. Co-Workers with Benefits. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 3,100

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: mainly smut/pwp;generally under-negotiated kink; mentions of the social constructs around virginity and the social pressures that men feel based around sex; this is Spencer’s first time having sex and the reader is a lot more experienced; this is not an explicit or pre-planed dom/sub relationship, but there is dom/sub undertones to their interactions; Spencer is more submissive (and bratty/defiant - before becoming compliant) and the reader is more dominant/leading; the reader calls Spencer ‘baby’ and 'brat’; she reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; penetrative sex/penis in vagina sex; mentions of fingering (does not take place during the fic); “just the tip”; unprotected sex - the reader and Spencer agreed to use a condom beforehand but Spencer pushes in without one (the reader secretly loves it, but doesn’t want to tell Spencer because she doesn’t want to feed into his entitled brat attitude and this could be considered dubious consent because he broke her consent regarding using contraception); spanking - the reader spanks Spencer (very mild pain kink); something that could be considered 'premature ejaculation’ (but imo it’s never premature, it’s right on time); creampie kink - they both enjoy Spencer cumming inside of her; mentions of Spencer crying (from overwhelming sensations, not sadness or humiliation); overstimulation (toward Spencer); Spencer fucking into his own cum; I believe that is everything.

A/N: Originally, I had this idea when I was thinking about Lessons For A Genius, but I realized that it didn’t quite fit the tone of that fic, so I decided to write it separately. I hope all you Subby Spencer lovers enjoy it! (Also can you tell that 'just the tip’ is my new fav trope? lmao)

...

“You ready, baby?” You cooed, gently running your hands through Spencer’s hair.

You tried to keep that same soothing, sweet voice that you had been using with him all night, trying your best to keep his nerves at bay. You knew that this was an uneasy time for him - between the social pressure of being a man who had never had sex with a woman before and wanting to ‘impress’ you and his general shyness around other people. You just wanted him to be comfortable and at ease so that he could enjoy himself. Which, of course, was generally the point of having sex. 

When Spencer had asked you to take his virginity, you felt incredibly honored. He was handsome, and despite him being ‘socially awkward’, he was charming. He had his own unique way of flirting, and he did have his choice of beautiful women that he could have fucked instead of you. There had been plenty of gorgeous women from his past, so you were surprised that he was even still a virgin in the first place. 

But when he had been explaining it to you, he had mentioned that the ‘social awkwardness’ had played a big role. The nerves. He had expected that one night, he would simply kiss a woman that he was on a date with, and things would just naturally ‘go from there’. But it never happened like that. He never had that movie romance moment where it fell into place. So instead, he had asked you. 

He told you that he found you intensely attractive, and - the part he hadn’t told you - he had been fantasizing about this for a while. He found everything about you utterly perfect. From the way your clothes hugged your curves to the way you looked dangerous suspects in the eyes and screamed at them without flinching. 

(And stowed away as a deep, dark secret, he had imagined himself in that position many times - handcuffed to an interrogation table, screamed at by you until he was begging for mercy.) (But again, that wasn’t information he was going to just volunteer to give up willingly.) 

So when Spencer laid it all out for you, fidgeting nervously and explaining that he finally wanted to know what sex felt like - you couldn’t deny him. He was too sweet, and too pretty, of course you couldn’t deny him. 

Even though it was something the two of you planned, and you would have simply invited him over to your place for the night, he insisted upon a date night out - taking you to a lavish restaurant first. He said that he wanted to act like a gentleman before taking you to bed. And it was a lovely evening, so there were no complaints on your part. 

You had taken him back to your place, and you had done your best to make him comfortable through the kissing, the groping, and showing him how to ‘satisfy’ you (again, upon his gentlemanly insistence). You were plenty turned on just by being with him, but you quickly found out that he was a swift learner with more than just books and very good with his fingers. 

Now, it was time for the ‘main event’ - at least, the part that would make him feel less much like a virgin, marking that big milestone for him. 

To give him control and make him feel more comfortable, you were on your back with your head on the pillows and he was sitting on his knees between your spread thighs. He had his body pressed pretty much flush against your naked one, savoring the feeling of your warmth. He was almost completely naked himself - save for his very Reid white briefs, barely containing his seemingly very long, hard cock. You hadn’t gotten a good look at it yet - just the outline of it through his underwear, and even tented, it seemed very impressive. 

You really wondered how no one else had snatched him up as a partner yet. 

He was hiding his face in your neck out of shyness. His nervous streak was oddly sweet, but it was something you had been trying to coax out of him all night. Even if you found it entirely adorable and endearing. 

“‘m ready.” He hummed into the skin of your neck. 

This sent pleasant vibrations through you, making you moan lightly as well. You rubbed your hands across the broad of his back, continuing to soothe him, trying to get his stiff muscles to relax. 

“Okay, baby.” You told him. “I’m gonna take these off now, is that okay?” You posed, reaching down to the waistband of his underwear. 

He nodded into your neck, but you weren’t entirely satisfied with that. 

“Please use your words.” You told him. 

It was only after the sentence left your mouth that you realized how ‘scolding’ it sounded. How condescending. 

Oddly enough, it was that tone of voice that made Spencer’s cock jolt, and made him so buttery and compliant in seconds. 

“You - you can take them off.” He muttered quietly. 

“Good.” You praised him, your voice short and firm. 

You felt yourself very specifically holding back from saying ‘good boy’ in response. 

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and got them down over his ass. The material did get slightly hooked up in the length of his cock, and you tried to take a peek between your two bodies to get a good look at his now exposed dick. But you couldn’t see around him with the way he had his face tucked into your neck. Spencer untangled himself and clumsily got the underwear down over his knees and eventually kicked them off. 

He moaned when he jostled slightly and felt his cock nudge up against the wet heat of your pussy. You let out a hot breath at the feeling, tightly locking your hips in order to keep yourself from bucking forward and rubbing yourself across his cock. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with new sensations. And you didn’t need to tempt yourself with the idea of pushing him over onto his back, shoving his cock inside of you and riding him raw like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure. 

This was supposed to be about making his first time good - not about chasing your own selfish desires. 

Feeling curiosity flood him, Spencer finally pulled away from his safe haven tucked beside your head to prop himself up and get a better look. He put a hand on each side of your shoulders, looking down the length of your body to stare at the impressive heat nuzzling up against his cock between your thighs. 

He had become well acquainted with your pussy when he had fingered you, and he already knew what a gorgeous, warm, wet thing it was. But seeing your throbbing wetness right up against his cock, getting to see that natural gloss so carelessly slicking him up - it made him truly realize the wicked reality that he was going to slide his cock into that wet heat. 

He was going to fuck you. 

It was a thought that made his head spin, quite literally made him dizzy with pleasure. He felt temptation so ripe in his veins as he got up on his knees a bit more and the bright pink head of his cock naturally found your entrance, naturally kissing right up against it. He let out a moan as that heat fanned out over his cock, begging to swallow him up. He wanted to be swallowed up by you, wanted to be consumed whole. He bit his lip, knowing it would be wrong to do it without- 

“Hold on, baby, we need a condom.” You told him, trying your best to keep a firm, steady voice as you were overwhelmed with sharp jolts of pleasure.

Feeling the thickness of his cock against you - feeling him right there - it was almost too much for you. You were so tempted to roll your hips up and simply take him inside of you. You were so tempted to have him fuck you raw. 

But it was not what the two of you had agreed upon beforehand. You had to be the logical one - you had to enforce the rules. 

While you reached off to the side, to the box of condoms you had waiting on the nightstand, Spencer continued to stare at your glistening cunt with pure concentration knit over his features. 

He was biting his lip with a near bruising hard quality, his brows knit so tight that he likely could have held a quarter between them. All of it was just so tempting. Feeling the heat coming off you; so different from his hand, so different from humping into his bed desperately at night, so lively, so perfect. The feeling of your perfect wetness coating the tip of his cock. 

Something in his mind was screaming at him:

Just the tip. Just the tip. 

He could press the tip of his cock into you without a condom, just for a moment, and it would be fine. He would know what your pussy felt like on his cock without a condom. And then he would pull it out again and put the condom on and everything would be fine. 

Technically, he wasn’t breaking any rules. 

He heard the foil wrapper crinkling as you tore it apart with your teeth and his need grew even more urgent under his skin. 

Before he even fully made the decision, his hips were surging forward, and he was pushing his cock into you. He let out a throaty whimper as he felt more of that perfect heat and wetness enveloping his cock. He couldn’t have stopped at the tip if he wanted to - he likely couldn’t have stopped the movement of his hips even if someone had a gun to his head. 

He kept pushing more and more of his length inside of you with a heaving, broken groan as he fully sheathed his cock inside of you for the first time. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he felt your raw, wet cunt around him - no barriers, no asides. Just the perfect, unadulterated you. 

“Oh god.” Spencer moaned, bowing his head to rest in your neck again as he began to pant furiously. He was trying to keep himself from fucking into you like an animal mindlessly, just chasing his release. He was trying to simply enjoy the hot, wet, tight vice as it pulsed around his hard cock. 

“Spencer!” You scolded him harshly once again. “What the fuck?!” 

Your pussy throbbed with the fullness, only now truly feeling how big he was, and fuck - he was big. He was stretching your pussy out so good, making you clench around him desperately, unconsciously trying to memorize every single ridge and vein that you could feel. Because of course, without a condom, you could feel every single detail of him, including the underside of his cockhead bumping up against one of those incredible spots inside of you that was almost never touched by any other man. 

As much as you love it, this was bad. You had agreed to use a condom. 

You dropped the condom beside your head out of shock. This had been the last thing you had ever expected him to do. Spencer: someone who had been so timid all night. Someone who had asked permission to touch your breasts just a few hours ago. That very same someone had just pushed into you without a condom, without even asking permission. 

He had somehow morphed into a greedy brat in the span of a few minutes. And as much as that turned you on, you couldn’t encourage that kind of behavior in him, because it would turn him into an entitled monster. Every single instinct inside of you told you that you had to punish him for this, rather than spoiling him. 

He had to learn how to behave. 

“Spencer, you-!” You continued to use that sharp scolding voice, and unconsciously, it only turned him on more. 

His hips flexed forward, trying to push impossibly deeper into you, and you bit your lip, forcibly holding in a moan. 

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered into your neck, his voice entirely pathetic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh-” 

He felt your cunt clench around him, you becoming so turned on by his whimpers of ‘I’m sorry’. You couldn’t help but to love his pathetic sweet compliance. But then, feeling that wet heat tighten around him even more, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He pulled his hips back and fucked forward once, and then - that animal thing inside of him took over. And he began fucking you at an even pace, chasing his orgasm inside of you as though you were nothing more than a hot, wet hole for him to fuck. 

“Spencer!” You scolded in a sharp gasp, trying your hardest not to show a pleasurably reaction toward his bratty entitlement and ruthless possession of your body - something he had not yet earned. Not by far. 

“Oh, I’m not sorry!” He moaned louder, lifting his head from your shoulder to give you an utterly filthy grin.

He couldn’t bring himself to be sorry anymore. Not when it felt this good. 

It was one of the most wicked things he had ever done in your presence, and it made you very tempted to reach up and slap him across the face - wanting to slap that grin right off him. You just barely held yourself back from doing so. 

He felt like he had won. At this point, he didn’t even care if it was at your expense. Right now, he was being so truly selfish. 

He was entirely unapologetic in his movements, pounding away at your pussy like it was his own personal toy. He fucked like an entitled boy, like someone with absolutely no regard for his partner’s pleasure - and oddly enough, that only turned you on more. 

It was a dizzying feeling that was only increased by how natural he seemed to be, especially for a first-timer. He was easily keeping up the hard pace, driven only by his pure, selfish need and chasing the heat of your pussy around him, never wanting it to end. 

He hammered his hips into you evenly, becoming sloppy at points, clearly only chasing his own pleasure in a way that drove all of your instincts insane. He absolutely wasn’t performing - he wasn’t fucking you with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make you cum. He was using your body for his own selfish pleasure. He just wanted to get his dick wet like the selfish boy he was. 

There was only one thought on your mind. 

“Filthy brat!” You spat out. 

Spencer couldn’t care less if that was good or bad, even though you hurled it out beside his ear like a cruel insult. He didn’t care if it was an insult - he was still getting to fuck your perfect pussy, he was still feeling you clenching around him as you huffed in his ear. 

All he knew for certain was that you were dripping wetness around him, leaking down over his balls. You were a clenching heat that made him feel like his cock was finally home and he never wanted to leave it. He let out a victorious giggle in between moans as he continued to fuck you. Although you felt an orgasm building in your belly, you felt the overwhelming need to put him in his place. 

You weren’t going to let him get away with this behavior, even if he did have a magnificent cock.

“Dammit, Spencer!” You cursed, bitter annoyance still ripe on your lips. 

Before you could even think too much about it, you reached around his body and sharply spanked the broad of his bare ass cheek. You were desperate to find something that would get him back under your control. It wasn’t even your most powerful swat, seeing as you couldn’t get much heft from the angle of being below him. 

But the hit left a mild sting on your fingers, and caused a nice smack of skin on skin in the room. 

In a second, the sting of the hit across his ass had his hips stuttering in inconsistent waves as he flooded your insides with hot cum. 

You felt a slight wave of disappointment as your orgasm dulled inside your belly, his cock stuttering to a stop and unable to keep up the pace that was driving you there. But then you were boiling with heat once again as you felt his cum leaking out of you around the base of his cock where the two of you were joined - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling. And you loved soaking in the filthy knowledge that he had cum so quickly simply from being spanked. 

He was definitely a brat who liked to be punished. Someone who needed to be put in his place by you. 

You should have been angry with him for foregoing the condom, and cumming inside of you so abruptly. But you couldn’t find much anger there as he bit your shoulder and moaned hoarsely as his orgasm pumped through him. It only lit a bitter fire in your belly, telling you that you were going to keep him, because this turned you on too damn much. 

Spencer moved to pull away as the clenching of your pussy around him became too much. But you weren’t going to let him get away that easily. 

You moved both your hands to his ass cheeks, digging your nails into the flesh there. You clung onto him hard and made a rough movement, shoving him forward until his cock fucked all the way back into you. You moaned under your breath at this and he let out a tattered gasp at the pure overstimulation. 

“You’re not done yet.” You told him, entirely demanding. “You wanted it so damn bad, brat. So go on. Keep going.” 

Spencer moaned at this. He almost wanted to argue - he was tired, that had been so much for him. 

But as he became dizzy with the feeling of hot pin pricks all over his almost numb, still somehow rock hard cock, he could find no flaws in your logic. He only wanted to say yes. He wanted to live inside your pussy forever. He realized that he never wanted to pull out if you weren’t going to make him. 

He tucked his forehead back into the crook of your neck and began fucking into you roughly once again, battering his hips between the sharp prick of your nails in his ass and the hot pool of his own cum that he had left inside of you. 

“Thank you!” He moaned out. “Thank you, thank you, oh thank you!” 

“You better fucking thank me.”

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, and there will not be a sequel or a continuation to it. If you enjoyed it, please comment about the body of work that has been written. If you like my writing style and want to read more about Spencer, definitely check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or you can check out my other Masterlists to see if something else catches your eye.

[absurdthirst]

Washed Up {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.4k

Warnings: Violent injuries, loss of eye, amnesia, recovery, growing feelings, oral sex (male and receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, infidelity through memory loss, recovered memory, angst, separation, loss, pregnancy, deadly threats

Comments: When Dave washes up on the beach in front of your house, gravely injured and without any memory of who he is, you give him a save place to recover. And a glimpse of the man he wants to be.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dave looks up at Robert, one eye destroyed, and his arm hanging limply at his side. He's on his knees and he knows it's over. His killing spree. His life. It's all over. When he's pushed over the wall, he prays for a quick death and when his head hits the rocks, he feels at peace.

**** 

Death doesn't keep Dave in its grip for long. The man blinks, his body in agony as he expects to open his eyes and find himself in hell. That's where he should be. He should already be consumed by the flames but instead, he hears the waves lapping, birds flying overhead, and a woman's voice. It fades in and out and he closes his eyes again, the darkness overtaking his senses once again.

Living on the coast is beautiful and deadly. You had witnessed the destruction of the hurricane barreling along the coast through the latched shutters and listened to the howling winds as they clamored to get inside. Now, you are assessing the damage, luckier than most and cleaning up debris along the water that had been churned up and pushed ashore by the waves. Now calmer as they ripple on the sand. The clump of seaweed and debris you had been walking towards made you shout when you spotted an arm. 

“Oh my god!” Rushing over, you find that it’s a man. Immediately pushing your fingers against his throat, only to find a thready pulse. A heartbeat, even as weak as it is, is a heartbeat. “Sir! Sir!” You can’t risk moving him, but he’s on his back, opening an eye only to rear back when the eye socket is empty. A fresh wound from the damage to it. “Sir?” You cautiously open the other lid to find a blown pupil and you reach for your cell phone, praying the towers aren’t jammed or down from the storm.

****

Dave groans softly, his voice hoarse from swallowing so much sea water, and he can hear beeping. His eye flutters open, making him wince at the bright light above, and he doesn’t recognize where he is but when his sight focuses, he’s in a hospital room. “Relax.” He hears someone say and he obeys, unable to do anything but lay there, trying to piece together what happened but his mind is blank.

You shouldn’t be sitting in the chair beside this stranger’s bed, but you are. Hating that you have read his charts so many times that you know it by heart, you wonder how he survived the vicious attack. Lacerations and wounds, knife wounds, millimeters from having his spine severed. This man was lucky to be alive. You reach for his hand and squeeze gently, hoping that he can hear you. “Relax.” You murmur softly. “You’re safe.”

Dave slides into subconscious yet again, the voice of an angel lulling him to sleep. When he wakes again, the machines are still beeping but he is lucid. His eye opens and he tenses, remembering nothing but the voice. “Whe -where am I?” He chokes out, voice raspy and quiet from the ocean and lack of hydration.

“You’re in the hospital.” Sitting up from the little nap you had been taking, you immediately start checking his vitals on the monitor. “You’re safe.” You promise, knowing that above all else, that is what most people worry about when they wake up in unfamiliar surroundings. His head turns towards you, and you introduce yourself. “I’m the one that found you on my beach five days ago.”

“On the beach? What was I doing on the beach?” He rasps and you grab the cup of water, holding out the straw for him to take a sip. “That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me.” You chuckle nervously and Dave swallows down the water to clear his throat. His head aches as he tries to remember why. “I don’t - I don’t remember.”

“I was afraid of that.” You sigh softly, pulling the cup away from his lips when he leans back. “You had some swelling on your brain and had considerable trauma.” You explain. “And you were hypothermic. It sounds like you have amnesia.”

Dave blinks as if trying to force himself to remember. “I don’t remember anything.” He chokes, “and I can’t see properly. Why can’t I see properly?” He panics slightly, his hand coming up to his face and his eye widens as he discovers the bandage.

“You have sustained severe injuries.” You reach for his hands and gently take hold of them so he doesn’t rip off the bandages. “I’m afraid that you are missing your eye. The bandage is to let the injury heal properly and when you are healed, you can be fitted with a prosthetic.”

Dave chokes at the news of his missing eye. “Is - is there anything else missing? Am I - can I walk?” He asks, his chest heaving as he starts to panic until he calms himself down without a thought. Like previous training kicks in and he has no clue why his heart monitor isn’t skyrocketing.

You frown and watch his heartbeat barely jump even though he had just had a moment of complete panic. “You have knife wounds, but there wasn’t any spinal damage that we could see.” You promise. “Your reflexes are still intact. You should still have all your motor functions.”

He nods, in shock, but his body feels completely calm. It’s unnerving to say the least. “Okay.” He knows he needs to adjust to having a missing eye but he is calm enough to know that he should be able to walk. To function. “Do you remember your name?” You ask and he frowns, trying to remember but nothing comes into his mind. He shakes his head, “no, ma’am.”

You are disappointed but know that is common with the amount of injuries he had. Especially since he had head injuries. “That’s going make it harder to get you home.” You admit softly. “The police have been here and you didn’t have any ID in your clothes and your prints aren’t coming up in the system.” You give him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve been calling you John, for John Doe.”

Dave snorts, “John. What is your name?” He asks and you tell him, “I’m a nurse here. Good thing too since you washed up outside of my house.” Dave nods, “so what happens now? If no one knows who I am?”

You bite your lip and sigh. “You will probably be discharged tomorrow, now that you are awake. Since you don’t know who you are or where you live, I’ll bring you home with me.” You had thought about it after a conversation with the police and you can’t just leave this man alone and without anywhere to turn. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.

Dave shakes his head and winces at the pain, “you don’t - you shouldn’t have to - I can go to a hotel or something. I don’t have any money but I will figure it out.” He says like it makes sense when it doesn’t at all. “You’re coming home with me.” You insist and he sighs, “I’ll make it up to you. When I get my identity back.” He promises, knowing it’s an empty one unless that actually happens.

“We can cross that bridge when we come to it.” You murmur softly. “Are you hungry? Or do you want to rest some more?” People are surprised at how tired they are after waking up from a comma or being deeply unconscious.

“I want to sleep.” He confesses, “then food.” He smiles softly and you chuckle, “no problem. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” You promise and watch as his eyes flutter closed. He falls asleep within moments and you go to get the doctor to tell them that the John Doe is awake. When Dave opens his eyes the next time, the machines are still beeping and he looks over to find you sitting in the chair. “How long have you been here?” He rasps, his voice thick with sleep.

“I haven’t left since I brought you in.” You confess, knowing that it makes you seem crazy, but you haven't been able to leave him alone. “I used the bathroom in your room to shower. I just-“ you shrug. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Dave is shocked but appreciative, his stomach twisting with something unknown. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He murmurs and you stand, helping him sit up. “Are you hungry?” You ask and he nods, “I’ll get you a tray.” He watches you leave the room and he tries to remember anything about himself. Anything at all so he can discover his identity. He doesn’t want to be a burden on you.

The police have been informed that he’s awake, but that he has no memory of his life or his name. They don’t even bother to come out and tell you that he’s just non/existent in the system. Like he’s a ghost. You thank them and bring the tray back, setting it on the table and shelling it in front of him. “Here you go. Try not to eat too fast. I know you have to be hungry.”

Dave takes a bite, his hand shaking a little, his other hand in a cast from his wounds and he groans at the taste of the food. He tries to not eat too fast but he’s starving all of a sudden. “Do you- your partner won’t be upset with me coming home with you?”

You laugh quietly and shake your head. “No partner.” You tell him. “Just me. My dog, I’d had her for fourteen years, died last year. So it’s just me.” Your house was way too big for you, but you had bought it when the market was down and you loved living on the water. “I can put you downstairs for now until you are ready to climb stairs.”

Dave can’t argue. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. He doesn't have an ID, money, a home. He’s completely lost and your kindness is the only thing that’s saving him. “I can’t thank you enough. When I figure out who I am, I’ll pay you back.” He promises, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

You shake your head. “When you have the chance to help someone else, do it. That’s all the payment I need.” You promise quietly. “There are too many unfortunates in this world.”

Dave nods, knowing he will find a way to repay you when he can. He will make sure he does when he remembers who he is. For now, he has to focus on recovering and healing from a traumatic experience.

“So, I’ve got you a set of basic scrubs to wear when you’re released.” You murmur quietly, watching him eat. “Your things were ruined, we had to cut them off you, but I saved them.” You hope that his clothes might help him remember something. “After I get you home, I’ll pick you up some more things, comfortable and easy to put on.”

Dave nods, “I guess I need to remember who I am because I don’t have anything. No money. No job. No home. Shit. I’m so sorry I literally landed on your doorstep.” You shake your head and go to interrupt him but he continues, “I can’t ever repay you for your kindness.”

You can tell that will be a continuing theme for him, so you don’t protest. Instead, you smirk as he polishes off the cheeseburger. “Did you like that?” You ask. “Cheeseburger kind of man?”

“Hell yes.” He chuckles, “that I do remember. Kind of? Would be fucking hell if I was a vegan and didn’t know it.” He snorts, “guess I’ll find out when I remember.” He adds, then frowns, knowing it should be ‘if’ he remembers.

“At least you remember what being a vegan means.” You point out in amusement. He’s handsome, even with the scars and the bandage over his eye. His jaw is covered with stubble and you bite your lip. “Before you leave, they are going to want you to get up and shower. Do you want me to help you shave? You were clean shaven when I found you.”

Dave nods, “yes please. I would love that because this is too itchy.” You’re like a guardian angel and he doesn’t know how to say thank you for all of your help. The nurses come by later on and help him shower and he is a little embarrassed by his nudity when they help him undress. When he is dressed in scrubs, you sit him down by the sink and grab the razor, starting to shave his face. Dave can’t help but watch you as you try to concentrate on shaving him without making his skin. You are an angel in every sense of the word, ethereal in appearance, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t help himself.

You glance at his eye, noticing that he’s watching you as you look back down at his foamy jaw. “What?” You chuckle. “I’m not going to slit your throat.” You wince the second it comes out of your mouth, because you know the injuries he’s received. Someone tried to kill him. “I mean, I’m careful.”

He continues watching you, “I can tell you’re a woman who likes attention to detail.” He says and tilts his head for you. “So are you from here? Or did you move here?” He asks, wanting to know more about you.

“Moved here about eight years ago.” You hum as you furrow your brow as you scrape the razor along his jaw. “Tiny little midwestern town, landlocked. So living right by the ocean was a dream for me.”

Dave hums, anxious to know more about you. He doesn’t know why he feels so drawn to you other than the fact that you are the woman that saved his life. “Did you move here with a partner? Or have you been alone this entire time?“ He can’t believe that someone like you would’ve been on their own for an extended period of time when you are so beautiful.

“Terminally single.” You joke. “When I first started my career, I was working all the time. Boyfriends didn’t really like that, so I just decided that I would be happy without someone.” You shrug like it doesn’t matter, but you have been feeling alone. “But I got to travel as a nurse for a while and earn great money. Buy my house, so if a man comes along….” You glance at him again and smirk. “He’s gotta be okay with me being independent.”

“Good for you.” Dave smiles as you wash off the razor before you continue. He doesn’t ask anymore questions, trying to search his own brain for answers. He wonders where he’s from. Does he have a family? He doesn’t know anything and it’s driving him crazy. He lets you shave his face and watches you with fascination .

The silence settles between you and instead of asking him questions, you start to hum a song. It’s nothing meaningful, just one of the new ones you had heard on the radio and got stuck in your head. Maybe you should play some music for him to see if it helps him figure out who he is.

Dave listens to you hum, not recognizing the song but he likes to listen to you. When you’re done, you clean off his face and he feels so much better. “I can’t explain it but I feel more like myself.” He says, looking in the mirror and trying to ignore the bandage over his eye.

“You look very handsome.” You praise softly, resisting the urge to caress his cheek. “The eyepatch we get you will make you look dashing and a bit dangerous. Like a spy.”

Dave winces, his head aching at your words and he hisses, clutching his head. “Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, taking a deep breath. “Yes. Yes. I - shit. Sorry.” He apologizes, “had a twinge of pain. A spy, huh? Maybe look sexy.” He flirts slightly, a smirk on his face when the pain fades.

You smile and nod. “I can see it.” You admit, even as you step back from him. “The doctor is going to come and see you one more time, then sign your discharge papers.” You explain. Being the nurse in charge of him had helped get him prioritized. “And I’m off for the rest of the week to help you get settled.”

Dave nods, “I really can’t thank you enough.” He says and reaches down to squeeze your hand. “Really, I owe you my life. Literally.” He murmurs and the doctor knocks on the door, “hey our John Doe. How you holding up?” He asks and Dave nods, “good. Thanks to an amazing nurse.”

Aaron is a good doctor and he smiles. “Well you have the best.” He compliments. “She has been dedicated to your recovery.” He glances over the chart and hums. “Despite your memory loss, everything else is looking good.” He had already gone through a memory test and he remembers the year and current events, just nothing about his life.

Dave nods, “that’s good. What are the chances of my memories coming back?” He asks and the doctor sighs, “it’s hard to say. These cases are difficult to assess. Your memories could come back over the next few days. Or it could take a while and something triggers it. Or they could never come back. Only time will tell.” Dave nods, a frown on his face but he’s accepting it. “Thanks Doctor.” He says and shakes the hand of the man who saved his life. “Of course. I’ll go write up your discharge papers now so you can get out of here. A change of scenery might help.” Aaron leaves the room and Dave sighs, “hopefully they come back in a few days so I can get out of your hair.”

Shaking your head, you move to start packing up the gym bag you had brought from your work locker. “Don’t worry about that.” You encourage him. “Best thing you can do is heal. And you don’t even need to come back to the hospital to have your bandages changed.”

Dave watches you pack up your things, his eye dropping down to your ass when you bend over and he swallows, knowing he can’t ogle you when you are his savior. “That’s good.” He nods, “I don’t like hospitals. At least I don’t think I do.”

“I honestly don’t know anyone who likes hospitals.” You admit with a small chuckle. “They are a necessary evil. But I will try to make sure you don’t have to go back.” You promise and gather the bag with his own things for him to go through when you get him settled. “Ready?”

He nods, knowing he doesn’t have anything but the scrubs on his body and his useless memory. “Yes ma’am.” He says and follows you out of the hospital room he woke up in. He should be nervous but his stomach isn’t twisting like he thought it would. He signs his papers and follows you down the hall and out of the ward. He hopes he gets his memories back. He wants to know who he is, but for now, he will follow you home.

Guiding ‘John’ to your car, you load him up and set out for your house. Talking as you drive, you show him the general area and point to a tower across the bay. “That had to be really dangerous during the storm.” You comment quietly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be on top of that.”

Dave frowns, his head aching all of a sudden and he hisses. “You okay?” You ask and pull over on the side of the road. “Yeah. I’m good. I- shit. Just a headache. Must be from the head injury.” He reaches up to rub his head and you frown, waiting a few seconds for him to breathe properly.

You ask if he needs something, a drink or aspirin, but he insists he’s alright after another minute. You consider taking him back to the hospital but decide to continue on home. Pulling up into the driveway after a few more minutes, you park. “Home sweet home.”

Dave admires your home, “it’s gorgeous. No wonder you fell in love with it.” He says with a smile and you grin, “I know. I had to have it.” Dave struggles to open the door with his arm still in bandages and you rush around to help him. “I feel so useless.” He sighs, “I can’t wait to be functional again.”

“We will get you all healed up and better than ever in no time.” The loss of his eye will be a large adjustment but perhaps not having any memory will help him. He won’t be used to what he used to be able to do. “There’s a downstairs in-law suite with its own bathroom.” You explain. “It was my little library, but I’ll move the bed in there and make it nice and cozy for you.”

Dave doesn't know how he is ever going to repay your kindness nor does he understand how someone so beautiful can also be so sweet. It makes his spine tingle with suspicion even though he completely trusts you. "Thank you." He murmurs and you snort, "stop saying 'thank you', John." You scoff and playfully slap his upper arm. His hand immediately comes up to grab your wrist, a reflex he didn't even know he had. "I am - Jesus." He loosens his grip and lets go of you, confused by his reaction.

“Wow.” You aren’t scared, more like impressed at the speed that he caught your hand. You arch your brow playfully and hum. “Maybe you are a secret agent.” You tease quietly, wondering where he had come from. That's your biggest question. How he had come to be on your beach. Did he fall off a ship?

Dave snorts, “yeah. And an assassin.” He chuckles before he winces again. “Maybe we should take you back to the hospital.” Dave shakes his head, “no. No. I’ll be fine.” He promises, “maybe I just need to lay down for a bit.”

You guide him into the house and immediately show him to the couch. “Lay down here for now and I’ll get your bedroom set up properly.” You hadn’t wanted to leave him to set it up while he was unconscious. “Do you want a blanket? Let me get you a blanket, and some water.”

Dave feels like a burden already, something in him telling him he shouldn’t let you run around after him but he feels exhausted. He sits down on your sofa and rubs his knee with his hand as he watches you grab him some water and a blanket. “Thank you.” He murmurs, shifting to lean back on your sofa, relaxing into the cushions.

“You’re welcomed.” You spread the blanket over his body and set the water down on the coffee table. “Get some rest and let your body heal.” You advise softly. “You push yourself and it will take longer to recover.”

Sighing in reluctant agreement, Dave closes his lone eye and lets himself relax. Inside, he feels useless, like he should be better already. Like there's something telling him it's life or death if he doesn't recover. He falls asleep not long after you settle him and he doesn't realize how long he's been asleep until he opens his eye and it's dark outside. "How long have I been asleep?" He rasps, voice thick with slumber.

“A few hours.” You had tried to be quiet, but he had been dead to the world, sleeping through you disassembling the bed upstairs and bringing it down to rearrange the inlaw suite. “Are you hungry?”

He wasn't until you mentioned it but now, his stomach is rumbling. He nods and you smile, "good. Dinner is in the oven. Your bed is ready and I'll show you the bathroom. I'll change your bandages when you shower next." You say and Dave can't say 'thank you' again, you'll kill him, so he nods and offers you a soft smile.

You show him the house. Letting him know subtly that he can go wherever he wants. Finally bringing him to the bedroom you had set up for him to sleep in. “This is your area.” You tell him. “There’s a shower, but if you need help, you let me know. I am a nurse.”

He can’t tell you that you being a nurse means nothing when he feels his cock twitch when you bend over to grab a spare toothbrush for him from under the sink. It means nothing when he wants to push you into the counter and bury his face in your neck. He doesn’t know where the attraction is coming from, especially since he just got out of hospital but fuck, he wants you. Shoving that down, he follows out into the living room and he looks out of the window to the beach, the waves crashing on the sand. “It’s more peaceful than when I got washed up

“I’m surprised you remember that.” It’s a good sign, considering how injured he had been. “The storm was brutal, I watched it from between the shutter slats. I just hope you weren’t in it for long.”

“I remember some of it. Between unconscious and conscious. The crash of the waves. The harsh wind. I remember a moment that I thought I was in hell. I hoped I wasn’t. I don’t…I hope I don’t deserve hell. But that’s what I felt for a brief second. That I deserved it.” He frowns, letting out a thought that’s haunted him.

You frown, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Well, this isn’t hell and you don’t deserve that. No matter who you were before that beach.”

“This isn’t hell.” He agrees, knowing you’re his angel. The woman who saved him from death. “Thank you.” He reaches for your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before he realizes what he’s done. “I, uh, sorry.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand.

“That’s okay.” He looks embarrassed and that’s the last thing you want. “Don’t be afraid to express yourself. We are in close quarters and I’m not offended at all that my ‘John’ has the manners of a gentleman.” You giggle slightly and bat your lashes at him.

Dave likes hearing your giggle, a smile on his face and he chuckles, “John. Definitely don’t think that’s my real name. It’s - it doesn’t feel like it’s my name, you know?” He tilts his head as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, you don’t look like a John, if that makes sense. But, do you want to pick out a name?” Maybe picking his own name will jog his memory. It couldn’t hurt to try. “Austin, Aaron, Anthony?”

Dave wrinkles his nose but his eyebrows raise at Anthony. “Anthony feels familiar.” He confesses, “but doesn’t feel…right. If that makes sense.” He tilts his head at you, “keep guessing.” He demands softly, “I’ll see if anything feels better.”

“Brad, Bryan, Boyd.” He shakes his head and you move on to the ‘C’ names. “Chris. Chandler- I threw that in because of Friends.” You joke. “Chad- no, no, you’re too handsome to be a Chad.” He wrinkles his nose and you grin at how offended he looks. Maybe because of the stereotype around the name or he just finds it offensive. “David? Daniel, and…..”

Dave frowns, thinking about the names, his stomach twisting and he looks up at you. “David feels…right.” He murmurs, his head aching a little and he wonders if that’s his name or if it’s totally wrong. “Shit.” He hisses, reaching up to rub his head.

“Is your head hurting again?” You frown and walk over to him, looking into his eyes. “Maybe- maybe it’s possible that your head hurts when you remember something.” You pose. “I need to do some reading on it.”

He closes his eye for a moment, trying to gather himself. “Yeah. Maybe. It - I feel a twinge in my belly when it happens. Maybe I am remembering something.” He frowns, opening his eye to look up at you. “Or maybe I need a painkiller.” He jokes, reaching for your hand to squeeze it.

“A painkiller can be provided.” You wink at him. “We won’t push you too hard, just whatever comes will come.” You squeeze his hand back and the timer in the kitchen goes off. “There’s dinner.”

Dave watches you make your way into the kitchen and he groans as he stands up. His arm still bandaged, he makes his way into the kitchen just as you are plating up dinner. “Best to have food with the pill. These are pretty strong.” You say and he nods, taking a seat. You hand him the pill and set a glass of water down, he swallows it dry without a thought. “Right then.” You snort and turn back to the counter to grab the plates. “This looks delicious.” He declares, “are you sure you’re not secretly married?” He teases, picking up his fork.

You laugh, shrugging. “Maybe I am. But then again, where are all the dirty socks?” You watch as he takes a bite and groans. It has to be better than hospital food and you try not to clench at the low growl of pleasure. He’s hurt, it’s so wrong to find him attractive and want him right now. “My dad used to leave his socks everywhere.” You explain. “Drove my mom crazy.”

With a snort, Dave sets his fork down, “I can’t remember shit but even I know that the way to piss a woman off is to leave socks and underwear on the floor.” He chuckles and takes a sip of water. “You’re a great cook.” He compliments you, picking up his fork after setting his glass down. “It’s a crime you aren’t married.” He murmurs, looking at you from across the table. He means it. Even if he barely knows you.

“Are you auditioning?” You flirt playfully, smirking at him. “I might snore like a banshee or have a really weird third boob that I hide.” You joke, taking a bite of his own meal. “I find it harder to believe that you aren’t married. Maybe you are. Maybe you’re divorced or hell, you might be celibate.”

Dave chuckles, “I don’t think a monk would lose an eye and nearly get murdered.” He raises his eyebrow before he sighs, knowing that the answers to that mystery aren’t available to him right now. He wants to know what happened. “I wasn’t wearing a ring when you found me, was I?” He asks, wondering if you noticed.

“No.” You shake your head, remembering to check him for a medical bracelet and you had looked at his hand. “No rings, necklaces or bracelets.” You shrug. “So probably not married.”

Dave nods, a little relieved by that revelation. He’d feel guilty for finding you so attractive if he was married. “Good. That’s…good to know.” He says, his eye focusing on you until you fluster and he continues eating.

The two of you continue to talk, he asks you a lot of questions about your life since he doesn’t remember his own and you fill him in. Enjoying the way he laughs and relaxes as he cleans his plate. “Do you want more?”

He bites his lip, knowing he shouldn’t eat too much but he is still hungry. He offers you a slightly shy nod and you chuckle, grabbing his plate to give him a second serving of food. “You really are a good cook.” He tells you as you set his plate down.

“Well then at least you don’t have to worry about starving.” You reach out and touch the back of his neck, the bandages covering the staples and you hum. “Tomorrow, we’ll change these again. But you are healing nicely.”

“I- hopefully I can remember who I am and I’ll be out of your hair. I’m sure you’ll be sick of me before too long.” He says, trying to ignore the way he shivers slightly at your touch.

“You seem anxious to get rid of me.” You wonder if you had been too pushy, if he would rather be somewhere else. “Hopefully I don’t drive you crazy.”

Dave snorts, knowing you are going to drive him crazy but not in the way you think. “No. No. I just- you’ve been so kind. I don’t want to be a burden. Well, a bigger burden.” He gestures to his eye, “you’re my saving grace.” He murmurs.

“Don’t put me up on a pedestal.” You shake your head. “I just want you to be safe and secure while you recover who you are or decide what you would do.” You bite your lip. “So often I can’t help someone beyond the hospital but this time, I can.”

Dave smiles softly, “it’s not a pedestal. It’s the truth but I understand. No more compliments.” He teases with a smirk, “no more thanks.” He winks and looks back at his plate, digging back in. He is torn on finding out who he is and never finding out so he can stay with you. 

****

It’s been a week since Dave has been in your home. He spends most of his days trying to see if he can recover his memory. Watching movies, listening to music. Anything that will trigger a memory. “Not a heavy metal fan?” You ask after he turns the volume down on your speaker. He shakes his head, “nope. Apparently not.” He chuckles. “Nothing yet. Maybe my memory is just…gone.”

“It’s possible.” You won’t sugar coat it, it is a possibility. “Then you will just need to figure out who you want to be.” Dave frowns slightly and scratches his head. He hasn’t let you help him too much, but you know he’s been struggling to help himself. He is the stubborn kind, for sure.

He sighs, “I know. I know. It’s - shit - I wanna know who I am because - because I want to know where I came from. What happened to me. So many fucking answers and I don’t know them because my goddamn brain won’t work.” He huffs, hitting his forehead. You open your mouth to protest his self pity when there’s a loud bang outside. Dave doesn’t hesitate, he shoves you down to the rug, covering your body with his. His heart beat in his ears is steady but loud as he raises his head to assess the situation.

You gasp when John - David, pushes you down to the floor and protects you. Never actually witnessing something like that before. Your heart races as he curls around you, waiting a moment before he is looking up. Searching the area for any danger before he even shifts slightly off of you. “I- I think it was a shutter.” You murmur quietly. “I didn’t secure all of them.”

Dave scrambles off of you, “shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I don’t know why I did that.” He confesses, his arm aching from the quick moments as he shifts away from you. “I don’t - the bang made me react.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head and lean over to check him. “Did you open any stitches? Anything hurting?” You ask, concerned more about his well being than him throwing you to the ground.

He shakes his head, "I don't feel anything hurting." He murmurs, still confused about his reaction. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks, wanting to be sure he didn't harm you at all.

“No.” You promise immediately. “I have to admit that it was pretty sexy, protective.” You bite your lip and fluster slightly. “You didn’t hurt me at all. I promise.”

He nods, glad that he didn't hurt you and his cock twitches at you saying it was sexy. "You liked it?" He asks, a smirk on his face as he watches you shift onto your knees. He shouldn't be this cocky when he has one eye, a bandaged up arm, and no memory of who he is, but something inside of him seems to jump out, a confident man who knows what he wants.

“I didn’t mind it.” You admit, watching as he adapts the posture of a man who is very self confident and it’s making him even more attractive. “I know you are recovering, but you are capable and sexy.”

Dave likes hearing that from you and he shouldn't, especially when he hasn't got a clue who he is or where he comes from, but fuck, he likes the way you are looking at him. He shifts onto his knees in front of you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and his eye searches your face until he leans in to softly kiss you.

You shouldn’t kiss him, not when you know that he’s missing key parts of himself, his history. You can’t help yourself though. It’s like you are unable to pull back, leaning into the kiss and you feel like this is meant to be. Like he was supposed to be found on your beach by you. It’s fate. You sigh softly when his lips touch yours and you lay your hand on his shoulder.

Dave presses his lips a little harder against yours, fueled by the simmering lust he's felt for you and the desire to feel something beyond the pity and frustration that his missing mind has been causing. His hand cups the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he slides his tongue against your lower lip, requesting access.

Your sigh turns into a moan, opening up and feeling the slide of his tongue against yours. Stomach clenching and cunt fluttering in pleasure when he dives into you, taking what you offer. He might not know who he is, but he knows how to kiss.

His other hand finds your ass, squeezing as he drags you closer to him. His cock is half hard in the pants you bought for him and he is taken over by this need for you. It's been lingering - some unspoken thing between you - and he desperately wants you. To show you how much he appreciates you, wants you.

You shouldn’t let him. You feel almost as if you are taking advantage but you know he wants this too. “You don’t have to.” You murmur softly, pulling back for just a moment so he knows that it’s not that he has to please you to stay.

He snorts, nudging his nose against yours, “I know I don’t have to. I want to. If you want to.” He adds, pulling back so he can look at you. “If you want to.” He repeats, his hand shifting away from your ass to give you a moment to think about it. You hesitate, exhaling shakily, and he doesn’t push, shifting away from you. “I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have done that. Made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I want to.” You confess, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “I’ve been attracted to you since the beginning. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still healing.”

Dave shakes his head, shifting back closer to you. “I want you. Don’t care about my arm. I’m healing because of you. I want you.” He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours. His hand finding your waist again.

You slide your hand up his shoulder into the longer locks of his hair now that it is growing out. Over the bandage and you are careful not to tug too hard as you slide your tongue into his mouth this time.

Dave groans into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours, and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, dragging you closer. “Let me - sofa.” He grunts, pulling away from your mouth reluctantly and he shifts to stand up. He sits down on the sofa and pats his lap, wanting you to sit down on top of him.

You don’t stand, you crawl over to where he is, watching that one eye darken with lust. The twitching of the soft pants makes your eyes widen in mischief. “You don’t remember your last blowjob, do you?” You moan out, reaching the sofa and sliding your hands up his thighs.

He shakes his head, his eye widening as you look up at him and he swallows harshly. “You don’t - most women don’t like doing that and you - you’ve already done so much for me.” He groans out the last word as you slide your hand across his lap to squeeze him through his pants.

“You remember that women don’t like to suck a cock?” You hum, enjoying the thick feel of him. You had helped strip him down and have helped him around the house, but now you can enjoy this. “This woman wants to suck your cock. But I don’t want you to cum right away.”

Dave gulps, nodding as you hook your fingers in his sweats and he lifts his ass so you can pull them down enough so his cock is freed, pre cum already pooling on the tip. He can’t deny that he hasn’t imagined this. You on your knees for him. “I won’t.” He promises, his throat suddenly dry.

You decide that you will show him how good it can be. Kissing up his thigh and nibbling on the sensitive flesh. His stitches from the leg wounds have dissolved and you feel him jump when you kiss the scar of newly mended skin left behind. Biting his hip before you drag your tongue up the thick length of his shaft and over the sensitive head of his cock.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses as you take his cock into your mouth. His eye watches you as you wrap your lips around the head and start to take him deeper, a groan escaping his lips. “You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs, reaching down to caress your cheek.

You glance up at him and when back down to his cock. He’s pulsing in your mouth and you take him a bit deeper. Wanting to make this good for him as you remind him of what a blow job feels like.

He slides his hand lower to your jaw, feeling it move as you bob your head on his length. He groans when you swallow around him as you take him down your throat. “Jesus.” He hisses when you reach down to roll his balls in your fingers. “Baby. Baby. I don’t - I don’t think I’m gonna last long.” He warns you, tapping on your cheek.

His tap on your cheek is sharp, making you huff slightly instead of moan as you pull back. “Do you want to have me ride you right here?” You ask softly, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping him gently.

He nods, a little lost in the feel of you, overwhelmed by your kindness, your beauty. He reaches for you, gripping the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head.

You let him take charge. Starting to strip you, although you unhook your bra when your shirt is on the floor. Drawing it down to toss aside and reveal your tits to him.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your tit and he squeezes, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “Do we need a condom?” He asks, wanting to be safe even if his memory is shot.

You know all the tests the hospital ran and they even screened him for STIs. “No.” You promise him breathlessly. “I’m on birth control.” You tilt your head to give him more access and push your chest into his hand.

His cock twitches and he slides his hand down to your leggings. “Take these off. I want to see all of you.” He demands, feeling needy for you after wanting you since he arrived in your home. “Please.” He adds, not afraid to beg a little.

You stand up and hook your fingers under your leggings to push them down. Smirking when you show David that you aren’t wearing any panties. “Never wear them.” You admit when he looks shocked.

“Dirty girl.” He smirks after he recovers, groaning at the sight of your curls at the apex of your thighs. He grips his cock, pumping himself a few times and he tilts his head, “come sit on my cock baby. Wanna watch you cum.” He demands, gaining his confidence back.

You bite your lip, stepping forward to straddle his hips. You caress his chest and reach down to take his cock in your own hand. “Fuck, baby.” You moan when he twitches in your hand. “You are so fucking thick, I can’t want to have you inside me.”

He gulps when you start to lower yourself onto his cock, engulfing him in a hot wetness that has his chest heaving. “Shit.” He hisses, his hand coming up to squeeze your breast as you sink down onto him. “So fucking beautiful.” He rasps, his eyes watching you take him.

Moaning, you feel beautiful. David has a way of making you feel like you are gorgeous. From the way he talks to you, to the way his gaze heats up when he is watching, you feel sexy. “Fuck, Dave.” You moan softly, shortening the name he had picked for himself.

Your moan of his new name has him twitching inside of you. It sounds so real, so good. It sounds perfect. His hand squeezes your tit, watching you acclimate to his girth until you’re comfortable enough to start moving on top of him. “That’s it baby, take what you want.” He orders, groaning when you lift up and sink back down again.

You don’t ride him fast, knowing that despite what he’s said, he’s still injured. You could make him reopen the stitches and you don’t want that. Slowly lifting off his cock and groaning when you let him fill you again. Sedately riding him as you press your lips to his.

He groans into your mouth, letting you ride him slowly and he caresses every inch of skin he can with one hand. His lips kissing along your neck and he hisses when you turn your head to kiss him again. His tongue slides against yours, his cock twitching inside of you when you clench around him.

Your moans are breathy and light as he twitches inside you. Breathed into his mouth while you kiss him back. Gorging yourself on the feeling of his tongue taking control and making you wetter and wetter every time he flicks his tongue against yours.

He’s in no rush for this to be over and he’s glad that he seems to have stamina. He’s not rushing to cum inside of you. His hand trails down your stomach, finding your clit, and he groans when he feels how wet you are. Slicking up his fingers, he rubs your clit slowly, not wanting you to cum just yet but wanting to hear you moan.

Whoever he was in a past life, David can make a woman feel amazing. Your back arches slightly when he starts to rub your clit. Pushing your tits up and you moan his name again. He's amazing and you fall even more for your mysterious man.

When you arch your back, Dave ducks his head down to take your nipple into his mouth. He sucks and bites while his hand continues to rub your clit. His eyes closed as he breathes you in, enjoying how you sound, how you smell.

It's easy to slip into the fantasy that Dave is yours. That he always has been and this is just a lazy day that you are making the most of. You whine when his teeth scrape over the sensitive bud of your breast and you breathe out an order. "More." You beg softly, gently pulling his hair again, taking care of the bandage that should be able to be removed in another week or so.

He doesn’t deny you, sucking harder on your nipple and he groans when you tug harder on his hair that isn’t covered by the bandage. He can feel your walls fluttering around his cock and he hisses when you grip him inside of you. “You’re so tight.” He murmurs into your skin as he switches to your other breast.

"You're thick." You moan softly, closing your eyes as he continues to ravish your breasts and you grind down on his cock. It's so perfectly erotic, building you up to a wonderful tension in your belly. "Fuck, Dave, I'm going to cum." You warn him, knowing that you are close to cumming.

He groans, his stomach clenching at the familiarity of the name falling from your lips and it feels so right. His name, you sitting on his cock, being here. It feels like it’s meant to be. “Do it.” He pleads, rubbing your clit a little faster as you rock on top of him. “Cum for me.” He begs against your breast.

​​He makes it so easy for you to cum, rubbing your clit like he knows your body inside and out. Your stomach clenches and you curl your toes when your body locks up in pleasure. Crying out again as your cunt soaks his cock with your orgasm.

Dave hisses against your skin as you clamp down on his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. I- you feel so good.” He grunts, his fingers working your clit for a little bit longer until he pulls his hand away and grabs your hip, rocking you on his cock. “Fuck. So pretty. So good to me. Taking me so well.” He grunts, bracing his feet on the floor so he can thrust up into you.

When he takes over, all you can do is hold on. You feel how assertive he used the strength he has that has been regaining. Moaning as he works you through your orgasm to the point of overstimulation from the way his cock is hitting inside you. Making you feel like you’re going to cum again.

Dave grunts, jaw clenched as he leans back against the sofa, trying to work you through your orgasm while seeking his own. He thrusts up into you a half dozen more times before it’s too much. His cock twitches as he paints your walls with his hot seed, groaning when he feels you clamp down on his cock again, your hands gripping the sofa behind his head. “Oh my God.” You squeal as you grip him and he pants, head tilting back and eye closing at how good he feels.

You collapse against his chest and kiss along his shoulder as you catch your breath. Giggling quietly from the sheer euphoria of the orgasms and enjoying the slightly salty taste of his damp skin. “Well, we got our workout today.” You tease.

Dave chuckles, cupping your cheek to bring your face to his. His lips pressing against yours while he stares to soften inside of you. “And worked up an appetite. Are you hungry, sweetheart?” He asks, knowing you did most of the work to get both of you off. “I can make you something.” He nudges his nose against yours while his hand slides down to caress your back.

Since he has been here, Dave has started helping you, however he can. He’s a surprisingly good cook and has made several meals for you. “If you’re hungry.” You press your lips to his again. “I can eat.”

He nods, his fingers caressing your spine. “I make a mean sandwich.” He teases, kissing along your jaw. “Go clean up. I’ll get the sandwiches made.” He winks and you shift off of his cock. He will clean himself up in your downstairs bathroom. He shifts to stand up from the sofa, wincing slightly at the ache in his shoulder. He’s pushed himself but he doesn’t care. It was worth it.

**** 

The next two weeks is just a constant cycle of eating and fucking. It’s like the two of you cannot get enough of each other. There are tender moments between the more amorous ones, like the time you had your phone playing music and Dave wanted to dance with you, right there in the kitchen. His staples are removed, his stitches dissolved and he has a temporary prosthetic eye in place underneath the eye patch. You are completely in love with him and it’s obvious he feels the same way, although no words are spoken. “Hey babe, I’m home!” You call out, dropping your bags at the door and looking around for Dave.

Dave puts the finishing touches on the piece he’s been working on for a while. His therapist advised that he paint or draw, see if he can recall his memories while also doing some physio with his hand and arm. He has paint on his shirt but he’s proud of his work. He looks up from the kitchen table and stands, making his way out to help you with your bags with his good arm. “Hey sweetheart. Let me help.” He insists and carries the bags he can manage into the kitchen for you.

“Hey.” You drop a kiss on his cheek and smile at the way he just insists on helping. “How was your day?” You had stopped by and picked up the grocery order on the way home and now it’s just you and him for the weekend. “Get some painting done?”

Dave nods, “yes. I- I want you to see it.” He says, “I painted it…for you.” He confesses, knowing he isn’t the most skilled artist but something seemed to have ignited within him to paint something good enough to give you. He guides you over to the table where the art is still drying and turns to you, “it’s for you. How I- how I feel about you.”

It's beautiful. Not something you would see hung on a national museum's wall, but one that you know is completely from the heart. It's a painting of you. You bite your lip, eyes misting up as you look at him. "I- this is gorgeous." You murmur breathlessly, reaching out and cupping his cheek. "I don't know what is going to happen, but I feel something- a lot - for you." You whisper. "Dave Doe, I fell in love with you." You smile at the use of the generic last name, but your heart knows him.

Dave chuckles and leans in, gripping your waist to pull you closer. “I love you.” He murmurs, feeling like the words are a little hard to get out even though it’s what he feels. Something within him wants him to hold back his emotions, shut them down, but he shakes that off. “I don’t care what happens. If I don’t get my memories back…I have you.” He reassures you, “and you have me.”

“I want you to stay.” You admit softly. “Memories, no memories, I love you.” You promise, aware that you have to seem crazy to some, but you know this man is the man you are supposed to love. Leaning in, you kiss him softly. “I want to make love with you.” Since that first time, you had slept in the downstairs bed with him until he was climbing the stairs to your bedroom. He had never gone back to the in-law suite.

Dave nods, nudging his nose against yours. His hand finds yours as he ignores the groceries and guides you upstairs, his gait is better, more confident. He feels powerful despite his recent limitations. Opening the door to your bedroom, he turns and grabs your waist, pressing his lips to yours without another second to waste.

You are addicted to Dave. Reaching for the hem of his pullover shirt, you lift it over his head and quickly kiss him again. “I love you.” You promise softly, caressing the scars, older ones sprinkled in with the new ones that tell you he had had a dangerous life.

He grabs the hem of your dress, lifting it over your head to expose your underwear and he loves how beautiful you are, how relaxed you are in his presence. Something he knows deep down wasn’t normal with his previous life. He walks you backwards towards your bed, his hands sliding up your back to unclasp your bra and he drags it down your arms to expose your tits. “I want to taste you, baby.” He confesses, throwing your bra across the room as he gently pushes on your chest to get you to lay down.

You moan softly, nodding as you spread your thighs apart. Settling against the pillows and watching as he starts to undress. “You are so sexy, Dave.” You compliment him a lot, but you never lie to him. You find him wildly attractive.

He flusters slightly at your compliment, still unsure of himself after losing his eye and the scars that cover his skin. He shrugs off his shirt and pushes down his jeans along with his boxers to expose his body to you. He groans when you squeeze your breast, your eyes watching him as he kneels on the bed. His hands push under your ass, tilting your hips as he leans in to slide his tongue along your folds.

Dave doesn’t use his mouth often, preferring his hands on you, but when it does - it’s magical. Your gasp of his name echoes around the room and your hips would buck up if he didn’t have a grip on them. Your hands slide down to your tits, palming them. “Fuck baby, fuck, I love you. Love that tongue, love your cock, love everything about you.”

His tongue flicks over your clit and he groans when your hand lets go of your breast and your fingers slide into his hair. He loves when you pull on his hair. He grinds into the sheets as he flicks his tongue over your clit. His fingers squeezing your ass as he tilts your hips higher. His tongue slides down to push into your weeping cunt, his nose pressing against your clit.

Dave turns ravenous, licking into you like a snack cup, making you whimper while he works you over. Your chest heaves and body shakes as his tongue curls deep inside you and the pressure against your clit is increasing. Looking down, you watch him, clenching around his tongue when his eye meets your gaze.

Dave groans, his tongue pushing deep inside of you. "That's it, baby." He murmurs when he pulls away for a second, his hand sliding from under you to pull your folds apart with his fingers, his lips wrapping around your clit and his fingers slide down to push two thick digits inside of you.

“Ohhhh fuck, Dave.” You moan, closing your eyes in pleasure. Your hips roll down and you love how thick his fingers are. They are almost as thick as his cock, but not quite enough. Your walls clench down around his digits and he groans against your clit.

He loves the way you moan his name. It might not be his actual name but it feels so right. He groans and curls his fingers deeper, wanting to feel you clamp down on his fingers. He wants to feel you cum.

He’s not a selfish man, Dave will spend hours between your thighs if it’s what you need to cum. You love that about him. “Oh fuck, baby.” You whimper. “You are so fucking good, I love that tongue.”

Your heels dig into his shoulders but he loves it. He hisses into your cunt and he groans when you tug on his hair again. He sucks on your clit a little harder, fingers pumping in and out of your weeping pussy. He wants to beg you to cum for him but he doesn't want to pull away from your clit.

“You’re so good.” You whine, rocking your hips up. “So good, so good!” You cry out. “Oh god, Dave!” You scream out, body locking up and jerking in pleasure as your orgasm slams through you. “Oh shit! Oh shit!”

He fucking loves when you cum. His eyes closing as you clamp down on his digits. He hums around your clit, working you through it as you soak his fingers. His other hand grips your hips to keep you still so he can make sure you're boneless on the bed before he fucks you.

You love how fucking thorough he is. Love how he just gives you pleasure until you are spent, demands it of you. Making you whimper and moan some more before he decides you’ve had night and his tongue slows down and his fingers start to slowly pull out.

Dave withdraws his fingers, kissing your mound before he turns his head to kiss along your thigh. "So good, baby." He murmurs, shifting to kneel between your legs, his damp fingers wrapping around his cock to pump himself as he watches you recover from your orgasm.

“I need you inside me, baby.” You beg, sliding a foot along his thigh, ready to prop it up onto his hip so he can sink deep inside your cunt. “Fuck, you are so goddamn handsome and mine.” You purr possessively.

He nods, shifting closer, and he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face as you call him yours. "Yours. Like you're mine." He murmurs, notching his cock at your entrance, and he pushes inside of you with a groan. "All mine." He grunts, shifting to hover over you on his elbows, and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

You don’t rush him, feeling the emotional weight of the moment as you wrap your arms around him. Giving into the kiss and closing your eyes while your feet hook behind his back. “All yours, baby.” You promise when he is pulling back to smile at you. “Forever.”

He groans at the news, loving the way you take him, accept him. All of him. Even the missing pieces. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw when he starts to move inside of you. Slow. He’s in no rush. He wants to savor this moment with you; the emotional climax before you reach the physical one.

“I love you too.” You whisper, giving him a sincere promise. You don’t care what his background is or what he’s done in his forgotten past. You love him. Even the strangely dark parts of him that he can’t explain.

He rocks into you, his hand finding yours to grip it against the pillow your head is resting on. His fingers tangle with yours while he kisses along your neck. No more words are exchanged as he rocks into you, breathing mingling as his lips hover over yours.

You pant quietly into his mouth, absorbing every thrust of his hips and taking him with an eagerness that cannot even be explained. It’s as if this is your wedding night and you are consummating your vows.

Dave groans, his tongue tangling with yours when he leans in to kiss you. He shifts his weight over to his other side so his free hand can caress you, squeezing your breast.

You moan his name into his mouth, arching up into Dave's touch. Rolling your hips with his steady pace and loving how this has turned into love making. Expressing yourselves with your bodies.

Your legs lift higher on his hips and he groans, pressing his lips against yours over and over. His fingers pinching your nipple but not too rough, just enough to stimulate you. He kisses along your jaw and down your neck, sucking on the skin above your pounding pulse.

"Dave, I love you." You moan, stroking his back and encouraging him with your moans. "I love you so much. So- fuck, so happy you washed up on my beach. Came into my life."

He smiles against your skin at your words, "me too. Fucking - fucking lucky to wash up on your shore. You saved me. My angel. My gorgeous angel." He murmurs, shifting his hand up to your cheek, caressing it before he leans in to kiss you again. "Want you to cum for me, baby." He murmurs, his hand letting go of your cheek and he snakes it between you to rub your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Dave has learned your body, knowing exactly what you need to cum and he’s a master at making that happen. “I love you.” You moan, pressing your lips to his desperately as you fall over the edge, clenching down around his cock.

Dave hisses into your mouth when you clamp down on his cock. He loves it. He loves you. He groans and works you through it, thrusting a half dozen more times until the heaviness of the moment hits and he falls over the edge with a groan of your name. His hot seed paints your walls and he squeezes your hand, your name a gasp from his lips.

The aftermath is always so beautiful, Dave collapsing against your body and panting as he tries to recover. You stroke his back, boneless beneath him. “Fuck, you are so incredible.” You moan softly.

He kisses along your neck, "no. You are. A fucking angel. I love you." He rasps, closing his eyes as he breathes you in and begins to soften inside of you.

You lay there, basking in the warmth of his affection and sigh. Everything is perfect and you hope that it never changes. “I ordered dinner before I got home.” You tell him quietly. “It should be here soon.”

“I amend what I said. You’re a fucking goddess.” He murmurs, pulling out of you and he kisses down your body. Flicking his tongue over your nipples, he continues his journey down your body until he’s settled between your legs again. “Reckon I can make you cum again before the food arrives?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he pushes your thighs further apart. You nod and moan when he leans in to slide his tongue through your creamy folds. Your moan makes him smile and he knows this is where he belongs. 

**** 

Dave kisses your neck as you stand at the stove, making pancakes for breakfast, and the coffee is brewing. “Have I told you how fucking sexy you are?” He asks, sliding his hands along your hips. “Dave.” You giggle, trying to focus on flipping the pancakes when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it.” Dave kisses your neck and smacks your ass before he makes his way through the house to the front door. He opens it with a smile still lingering on his face. “Dave?” A woman gasps and he frowns, “uh, kinda. Do I know you?” He asks and she shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I’m your wife.”

Dave frowns, pain slicing through his head as his knees buckle from the flood of memories slam through him. His entire life flashing back into place and he groans, feeling her rush forward to touch his shoulder and he remembers her name. “C-Carol.” 

You gasp, dropping the spatula from the doorway to the kitchen when you hear the strange woman announce that she is his wife. Not wanting to believe that it could be true.

Dave feels sick. The memories of the things he’s done. The people he’s killed. The coldness in his veins. Carol knows about it all and he knows you’d hate him if you knew his background. He also remembers Molly and Alice. His girls. He can’t abandon them. His heart is torn between wanting you and pushing you away. You’d be better off without him. You deserve better. He straightens his back just as you walk in and Carol looks between you, immediately realizing what’s happened from the look on your face. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I couldn’t get hold of Resnik or the team to track you down. I’ve been trying to find you.” Carol chokes, “the girls…we thought you were dead.”

"He- he had amnesia." You choke out, looking back and forth between the pretty woman - his wife - and Dave. Your Dave was not free, he has a wife - maybe even kids. The idea makes you sick to your stomach and you wish you had been stronger to resist the attraction between you. "He- he washed up on the beach in front of the house. Badly injured." You explain, looking down at the spatula dumbly.

Dave wants to pull you into his arms, kiss you and tell you it’s gonna be okay but he’s a bad man. He’s a murderer and he’s married with kids. He can’t stay with you. He has to go home and back to his old life. He swallows harshly, “I need to go home.” He chokes out, hating how your face immediately scrunches up and your eyes start to water. “He needs to come home to his daughters.” Carol says, reaching out to rub his arm and Dave nearly recoils from her touch. He doesn’t want to go home with Carol. He wants to see his girls.

“I-I know.” You nod quickly. Of course he has daughters. He has a family, a life that doesn’t include you in it. “I- I’m sorry, please give me a minute.” You turn and race up the stairs. Needing to hide your tears and to pack the clothes you had bought for Dave, along with all of his things that have been mixed in with yours.

He watches you go and he swallows down the words he wants to say. That he wants to stay with you. That he loves you. He can’t though, he has to go home and figure out his life. “You have no idea how much effort I’ve put in to find you. I was expecting a body to bury. Not a fucking cheater.” Carol hisses and Dave turns to look at her, “I didn’t remember you. I lost my goddamn memories.” He growls, annoyed at his wife. One that he hasn’t loved for a long time before Robert tried to kill him.

Carol snorts, not believing the convenient lie that would absolve him from his part in the affair. 

“So what? You just happen to shack up with the woman who found you?” She gestures to his eye patch. “You can stop playing your fucking games David, you can fool her, I’m smarter than that.”

Dave scoffs, “it’s not a fucking game. She helped me when I was nearly dead. She saved me.” He hisses when he hears you coming down the stairs. “With her pussy?” Carol rolls her eyes at her husband. His face softens when he sees you and Carol notices that, huffing at the way he looks at you. He has never looked at her like that.

You had cried while shoving everything in a bag and grabbed his medical records. Drying your eyes, you know they are still red rimmed as you come down the stairs with the bag on your shoulder. “He- his medical records are here. His rehabilitation. His appointments for the glass eye.” You can’t look over at Dave, you know you will cry again, so you brace yourself and look into the unhappy face of Dave’s wife. “I didn’t- it- I’m sorry.” You whisper. “He really didn’t remember anything. And the police couldn’t find any record of him. He didn’t- it’s my fault. Blame me. Don’t blame him.” You hold out the records for her to take.

Dave shakes his head, “it’s not your fault. It’s mine. My past…it caught up to me.” He confesses and reaches for you to pull you into his arms. He breathes you in and pulls back a few seconds later to kiss your forehead. He wants to tell you he loves you but he knows that won’t help you at this moment. He steps back, turning his head so he doesn’t have to look at your face as he braces himself to leave your home. “Thank you. For everything.” He says when his eyes finally meet yours. You nod, your throat tight with emotion. Carol grabs the bag from you and touches her husband’s arm. “Let’s get you home.” She says, emphasizing the word. He nods, trying to commit your face to memory before Carol clears her throat and he steps back to exit your home, the place he came to call home.

The door clicks closed and the house is silent, mournfully so. Leaving you to absorb the fact that Dave - who really was Dave - is gone. And you didn’t even get his last name. Choking out a sob, you don’t care that the pancakes are burning or that the bacon is getting cold. You don’t care about anything, your heart is breaking, bleeding out of your chest. The man you love is gone.

**** 

“Daddy!” “You’re home!” The girls rush up to Dave and he kneels down, wrapping his arms around them and kissing their heads. “I missed you.” He murmurs into their hair, pulling back a second later. “Daddy! You have an eye patch.” Alice points out and Molly giggles, “you look like a pirate.” Dave chuckles, “yeah. Daddy had an accident and he’s sorry he wasn’t here but he is now. I love you. Both of you. So much.” He murmurs, hugging them close again and he hates how he’s had to leave you but his girls need him.

Carol stands back, watching the girls with their father and she’s still suspicious. From the looks of the folder, it’s true that he had amnesia, he didn’t remember her or the girls. But she still isn’t happy with the way Dave had looked at you. His heart was in his eyes and despite knowing all his secrets, accepting him for who he is, having his children - he never looked at her like that.

****

Dave tries to settle back in at home but it’s hard. He isn’t the same man. He doesn’t go back to work for the DIA. He can’t. Robert is still out there and he doesn’t know if he knows Dave is alive. It’s been a few months that Dave has been home and he can’t stop thinking about you. The television is playing some show Carol likes and he isn’t paying attention to it. Carol notices. She’s picked up how distant her husband is. He doesn’t touch her, he doesn’t kiss her. He is a different person. He isn’t the killer she knew when she married him. He’s softer…not as rough. Not the man she desired. 

“You thinking about her?” Carol asks without warning, making Dave turn to look at her. “Who?” He asks, trying to act indifferent. She says your name, “I know you love her. The way you looked at her…you never looked at me like that.” She murmurs and Dave opens his mouth to try and protest but she stops him. “I don’t want you here if you don’t want me.” She says and Dave shakes his head, “but we are married.” Carol scoffs, “Dave. Don’t be ridiculous. You might not have died that day but you changed. You’re not the man I married. Go back to her. I never expected to lose you to a nurse…another agent maybe, but not someone…nice. Go back to her and if you want to come home, I’ll let you come back. You need to decide what you want. I don’t want a half marriage.” She confesses and Dave is speechless. He never expected her to be so selfless. “I need to decide.” He agrees, knowing he will be selfish, leaving his wife and his girls but once he decides, he will figure everything out. He knows he needs to see you again.

You hum to yourself, to your stomach as you work on the cake you are baking. Your life has been changed by Dave. You had discovered that you were pregnant after he had left and there was never a doubt in your mind if you were keeping the baby. It was the last piece you had of him, even if you planned to never let him know that he had a son or daughter with you. You couldn’t do that, even if you wanted to, you don’t know his last name. Pouring the last of the batter into the pan, you turn to place it in the oven and set the timer.

Dave shifts from one foot to the other, his bag on his shoulder and he takes a deep breath before he rings the doorbell. You don’t answer right away, opening the door several moments later and his eye widens as your head peaks around the corner. “Hey sweetheart.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.

You freeze, eyes wide when you see Dave and you immediately look behind him. Hoping that his wife isn’t here too, “what are you doing here?” You demand. “You can’t- Dave, you can’t be here.”

“I left her. Carol…she told me to come see you because I wasn’t - she knew my heart wasn’t with her. She wanted me to come back and if I returned to her, then she’d accept me back. If not, she would accept that too. She doesn’t want a ghost as her husband. I came back because I- I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you, baby.” Dave chokes, his chest tightening as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Dave- you have a family.” You whisper, guilt flooding your entire body as you straighten up and step through the door, showing him the rounded belly that houses his child. “I’m- we’re fine.” You caress your stomach. “I love you and I know that you need to be with them. They had you before I did.”

Dave’s eye widens at the sight of your round belly. He gasps and his hand reaches out towards you until he lowers it. “Baby…you’re - Jesus. I left you - you’re - shit.” He chokes and shakes his head. “I have my daughters but Carol - I don’t love her. I love you. Please. Let me - I want you. Shit. Our child.” He can’t believe you’re pregnant.

“What’s your last name?” You ask softly, reaching out and taking his hand so he can feel the baby. “I didn’t think to ask that day and you never came back.” You start to tear up, having missed him every day since he walked out your door.

“York. David Anthony York. I was born April 2nd, 1975.” He tells you, wanting you to know everything about him. He has to tell you the dark parts, his past. You deserve to know. His hand caresses your bump and his eye widens when he feels the kick. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” He asks, not caring either way, he wants a healthy baby.

You smile softly. “It’s a boy.” You tell him, remembering the day you had seen the very obvious boy parts on the screen. “I know you have girls, but hopefully you would be happy with a boy?”

Dave smiles, “I’d be happy with either. A healthy baby. But a boy…our boy.” He murmurs, wanting to kiss you but he refrains, knowing you might not want that. “God, our boy.” He says softly, his heart pounding and he caresses your stomach.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You ask softly, afraid of waking up and finding this to be a dream. You would be completely heartbroken. “I have every intention of raising this little boy on my own. You don’t have to give up your life for me.”

“I’m not giving up my life. I died that day. The person I was died. You saved me. Gave me a new life. Baby, I need - I need to talk to you. I need to tell you what my life was. You need to know everything. Can we sit and talk?” He asks, adjusting his bag over his shoulder.

“Of course we can.” You nod and motion towards the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?” You ask. “I’m drinking herbal teas these days, but I’m assuming you still like coffee.” You have a few muffins from your last batch, having started baking as a hobby during your pregnancy. It’s nesting you can only assume. “We can talk in the kitchen. I have a cake in the oven.”

“That sounds good, sweetheart.” Dave says as sets his bag down, following you into the kitchen. You start on making him a cup of coffee and he sits down at the kitchen table, watching you with a soft smile on his face. He’s missed you. So much. You set the cup of coffee down, still remembering how he likes it, and he admires the muffin you put in front of him. “Cake smells delicious too.” He says, “have you been working?” He asks, curious how you’ve been coping.

“I picked up a lot of shifts.” You nod, stirring the tea as it infuses with the hot water. “Practically lived at the hospital the first month.” You shoot him a guilty look and look back down at the cup in your hands. “Being here was….hard.” Despite having lived here for years before Dave’s arrival in your life, he had managed to ingrain himself into every corner of the home, expecting to see him every time you walked into a room. “I’m back to my normal shifts now. Because of the baby.”

“You need to be relaxing.” He tuts, “you should be resting, not rushing around a hospital.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of the coffee. “I’ve missed you. So much. I didn’t - I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“How are your girls?” You ask softly. “You have more than one, obviously. What are their names?” You’ve missed him too, but you want to know if he really is prepared to have them live in a split household. “I was thinking about you too.” You admit softly.

Dave reaches for your hand, “they are good. I have two. Alice and Molly. They have picked up that something has changed. Molly asked me why I’m so sad. Carol heard it. That’s why- I think that’s what pushed her to send me away.” He confesses, “I don’t - I don’t want to rock their world but what good am I as their father if my heart and mind are miles away?”

You feel your heart break and mend all at the same time. Squeezing his hand gently. “Dave, I-“ you are interrupted by the sound of another man’s voice. The same man who had come to visit you just days after Carol had come to take him away. “I knew I would find you here, Dave.” Your head turns to find Robert McCall standing in the doorway of your kitchen. You hadn’t even heard him come in. “That was a mistake.”

Dave stands up immediately, cursing himself for not having a gun. He hasn’t held one since before the accident. He shifts to stand in front of you, “McCall. I’m guessing you’ve come to finish the job. I get it. Just - just not here. Not in front of her.” Dave pleads slightly, holding his hands out in front of him.

You stand up, moving in front of Dave as Mr. McCall points the gun in his hand at the man you love. “Please. Don’t do this.” You murmur softly. “He's a good man. He’s- we are having a baby.” You remind him, caressing your stomach. “He has two daughters. Don’t leave them without their father.”

Dave looks at Robert over your shoulder before he shifts to stand in front of you again, “can I at least say goodbye?” He requests and McCall nods. Dave turns around to face you, his hands immediately cupping your cheeks after you stood up for him and he presses his lips to yours. A kiss to tell you thank you for everything, to say he’s sorry. A kiss to tell you how much he loves you. “I love you. So much. You’re everything. You and my children. I- tell our boy his daddy loved him. Don’t lie and tell him I was a good man because I’m not. I’ve done horrible things and they - my past - caught up to me. I love you.” He murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours as he breathes you in.

You start to cry, tears streaming down your cheeks and you can’t help it. You turn to Robert. “This man dances in the kitchen with me.” You sob. “He- he paints and he listens to music with joy and love. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.” You are begging for his life, but you would do it. “If you kill him, you will have to kill me first.” You declare. “Are you willing to kill an innocent woman? Her baby inside her?”

Robert stares at you for a moment before his eyes flick over to Dave. He doesn't look like the man he knew. Gone is that hardness in his gaze, the tension in his jaw. He looks like a man who wants to live but is willing to die for his family. The Dave York he knew would never sacrifice himself for anyone. "Don't kill her. Kill me. I - fuck - not her. Me." Dave begs, stepping in front of you again. Robert narrows his eyes, assessing the man in front of him. He raises his gun and you scream but Dave shoves you back, his hands shaking slightly, and that's when Robert lowers the gun. "You've changed." He observes and Dave nods, "I don't - that isn't me anymore." He confesses, "I just want to be with my family." Robert tilts his head, "and you will. If I hear a goddamn word about you being back in the circles, you're a dead man. I will kill you without hesitation and you won't know when it will happen." Robert threatens and Dave nods, "understood." Robert looks over at you, nodding his head, "be safe." He orders and spins on his heel, heading down the hall. You gasp after a few seconds and Dave spins, running his hands over your body. "Are you okay?" He asks, needing to reassure himself that you're safe.

“I’m- I’m okay.” You assure him shakily and cling to him. Trying to steady your breath as you run your own hands over him. You had thought he was going to be killed and you couldn’t live with that. “I- I can’t- he was going to kill you.” You whimper, tears spilling over your lashes again. “I couldn’t- I love you.”

Dave reaches out to wipe your tears away with his thumbs, "don't. He - he's gone now, baby. You're safe." Dave doesn't know that for sure but he won't waste time worrying about Robert coming to kill him. He has already lived more than he ever planned to. He could've been killed that fateful day he washed up on shore. "I love you. I love you." He repeats, leaning in to kiss your lips, his hands cupping your cheeks as he closes his eyes and relishes the fact that you are safe.

“I want-“ you close your eyes and lean into his kisses. “I want you to stay.” You admit quietly. “I want you to stay with me and the baby. It’s selfish and I shouldn’t want it, but I do. I want you to stay.”

"I want to stay. I don't want to go back to Carol. She knows that. The girls...we will share custody and Carol can have the house. I want to be with you. Our son. The girls. My family." He chokes and kisses your lips again. "Let me - I need to feel you." He murmurs, his body burning from the adrenaline and the emotions.

You nod, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Anything you want.” You promise softly. “I’m yours, Dave.” You start to unbutton his shirt, also desperate to make sure he is really there. “Wait.” A thought crosses your mind and you pull back. “Have you- um- since you’ve been back with Carol-“ you don’t want to risk the baby’s health if he’s slept with his wife.

Dave shakes his head, "no. I have been sleeping in the guest room. I haven't touched her. I couldn't. Not when - not when you were all I could think about." He confesses, his hands sliding down to the hem of your shirt but he doesn't move to pull it over your head, not without you saying yes.

“My body has changed.” You warn him softly even though he would be aware of that since he has a wife and children.

He scoffs, "yeah. You're even more fucking beautiful." He says and you let him lift your shirt over your head. He sighs, shifting to kneel down in front of you, his hands caressing your belly. "Hi buddy. It's daddy. I'm here. I'm sorry it took me so long but I'm home." He murmurs, leaning in to press kisses to your stomach.

You bite your lip, running your fingers through his hair gently. Watching as he coos to the child you had created together. “I love you so much, Dave.”

He looks up at you, his hands sliding lower to your leggings. “I want to taste you again.” He murmurs, pulling your leggings down along with your panties. He leans in to breathe you in, nose buried in the curls at the apex of your thighs after he ducks under your belly. The leggings around your ankles as he nuzzles your sex with his nose.

“Dave.” Your eyes widen slightly and you grab onto the back of the chair. You hadn’t expected him to be so eager he couldn’t wait for the bedroom, but maybe you should have. He’s always been eager for you. Now, your belly is big enough that you can’t see him and you whine softly. “I need you, Dave.”

He nudges your legs apart with his shoulders, tilting his head so he can slide his tongue through your folds with a groan as soon as your tangy arousal hits his taste buds. His hands find your ass, keeping you stable and tilting your hips so he has more access to you.

You moan loudly, aware that there could be anyone to hear you, maybe even Robert if he had not left. You don’t care, let him hear. Dave’s tongue carves a path through your folds and you whimper his name again, clenching around nothing.

Dave groans when you moan loud enough to echo in your small kitchen. He hisses when you rock your hips down and his cock presses against the zipper of his jeans. He smacks your ass playfully, working your pussy over his face while you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Fuck baby.” Your head rolls back in pleasure. “Missed you so much. Fuck, I missed you. So much.” You whimper, tugging on his hair slightly. “My fingers and vibrator weren’t enough. Could never replace you.”

Dave groans at your confession, wanting to see that sometime, and he can feel how close you are with the way you’re tugging on his fingers. “Need you to cum for me.” He rasps as he pulls back for a moment. “Want to feel it. See it.” He pleads and resumes sucking on your clit.

You are so sensitive. So sensitive from the pregnancy. Whining softly, you feel the tension building in your core and it’s only a few short sucks to your clit later that you are cumming. Crying out his name, your thighs tremble and you rely on his strength to keep you upright. “Dave! Fuck! Dave!”

Dave loves the way you cry out his name. It sounds so sweet from your lips. “That’s it, baby. So perfect.” He murmurs, caressing your thighs as you recover from his onslaught. “I love you.” He declares again, kissing your belly and his cock is pressing against his zipper.

“Dave, I want you inside me.” You murmur, voice thick with pleasure. “On the table.” You decide, reaching down for him. “I can’t wait for the bedroom.”

He knows he should insist on the bedroom but he feels just as desperate to touch you. He shifts to stand up, carefully spinning you around and grabbing your thighs to lift you up onto the table. It shifts slightly and he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, hands fumbling as he tries to take his hard cock out of his jeans.

“You have me, baby.” You lean back on the table on your elbows and look up at him. “I’m all yours and you’re mine.” It’s humbling to know that he chose you, he put aside his life- his entire being-to be with you.

Dave leans in to press his lips to yours, loving how you so easily give all of yourself to him. He’s done terrible things in his past life and you don’t judge him. He grips his cock, pumping himself a couple of times before he notches the head at your entrance, his eye flicking up to your face to watch you as he pushes into you with a groan.

It’s different now that you are pregnant. Your walls are more sensitive, clenching down around him while your head rolls back on a moan. Hes thicker, that’s the only explanation for how fucking good he feels inside you. “Dave…..” you whimper. “More, baby, I need you.”

He doesn’t deny you. His hands caressing your body, and he squeezes your breast as he starts to move inside of you. “I’ll give you what you want. Whatever you want.” He vows, rocking into you with a groan. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, “full of my baby.”

You love him. You moan his name, loving how he is grinding up into you. Loving that he is here. With you. You know that things will need to be worked out, details seen to, but he’s with you. Hopefully Carol won’t deny him time with the girls. “Your baby.” You caress your stomach and smile. “You claimed me.”

Dave shakes his head, “you found me. You saved me. Shit baby. You - you’re a goddamn angel and I don’t deserve you. The things I’ve done…I don’t deserve you.” He pants, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, wanting to hear you cry out with pleasure.

“You deserve the world.” You insisted, crying out when he bites down on your nipple gently. “Baby, baby, I’m going to cum, you’re going make me cum!” You squeal, reaching down and rubbing your clit to give you that extra stimulation you need.

He bats your hand away, wanting to control your pleasure, and he hisses when you clamp down around him. “That’s it baby. Take it all. Cum for me.” He pleads, watching your eyes squeeze shut and you hold your breath as you start to clamp down around his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. You’re so tight.” He hisses as you squeeze his length and soak him. “Shit.” He pants, trying to rock you through it and it’s been months since he came. He refused to have sex with Carol. He is pent up and it doesn’t take more than a half dozen thrusts for him to push deep and paint your walls with his hot cum.

You whine at the feeling, loving how he fills you up. Riding out your high, you watch his face. Enjoying the way his brow smooths out and his face contorted in pleasure as he rocks himself through it. “Soo good, baby.” You mumble thickly, smiling lazily. “Feels so good.”

He leans down to kiss you, mindful of your bump, and he nudges his nose against yours, “love you.” He whispers, his hand caressing your bump and he sighs when you kiss his chin. He knows he’s made the right decision to come back to you. 

**** 

“Girls. Girls. You gotta wait for them to cool down.” You chuckle at Alice and Molly trying to grab one of the freshly cooked cookies from the tray. “You’ll burn your fingers.” Dave tuts as he walks into the kitchen, your son, Anthony, in his arms. “He needs feeding, babe. I’ll deal with the cookie monsters.” He says, coming over to you to slide the baby into your arms. The girls squeal when he growls and rushes towards them in the kitchen. “Cookie monsters.” He playfully growls and they squeal, running into the living room. “They will be back before too long.” You chuckle, taking your breast out to feed the baby. “And before they are, I gotta tell you something…the divorce is final. As of this morning. So there’s something I want to do.” Dave reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small box. “You saved me. In so many ways. You saved my life. You saved my morality. You saved me from a job that nearly got me killed. You’re my angel and there isn’t a single day that I don’t thank God for you and our family. Will you let me make an honest woman of you? Marry me?” He asks, opening the box to display the diamond ring inside.

Your eyes widen in surprise, sure that despite divorcing Carol, Dave wouldn’t want to get married again. You were fine with that because you know what you mean to him. “Dave….” holding your son, you can’t fall into his arms but you immediately nod. “Yes! Yes, of course baby, I love you so much.” You promise, tears slipping down your cheeks.

He grins, leaning in to kiss you. After a few moments, he pulls back to take the ring out of the box. He slides it onto your left hand after you shift the baby over into your elbow and he looks down at the diamond on your finger. “Beautiful.” He murmurs, his eyes flicking up to you. The girls rush back into the kitchen and their eyes widen at the ring on your finger. “Oh it’s so pretty.” The girls coo. They were cautious at first, upset at mommy and daddy living apart but they have grown to love you. Dave grins, looking at his children before he looks at you and winks. No longer a killer, you saved his life and you saved his soul.

[meowzfordayz]

to be in love

Author’s Note: not much to note… 😅

to be in love

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: could you write a comfort fic about Giyu?? (only if you have time ofc)

~faqs~

“What’s on your mind?”

You eye Giyuu for a long second, not quite focused on how blue and earnest his stare is, softness flickering from your face to your hands to your face again. He’s used to waiting. Used to long stretches of doubt and hesitation; of watching the gears turn in your head as you calculate the pros and cons of showing yourself to him — the reassurance you seek tempered by a deep, creeping fear of But what if I don’t deserve it?

“Nothing?”

He raises an eyebrow as you wince at your questioning inflection, your lie clear as day, his fingertips calloused and cool as they reach for your wrists.

“I don’t know,” you amend your response, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter to you,” he asks lightly, “Or to me?”

You shrug, “I mean, I guess it matters to me,” your wrists twisting in his grasp, thumbs stroking his pinkies, “But it doesn’t have to matter to you.”

With a low chuckle, Giyuu lifts a stern finger to your chin, coaxing your heated cheeks to meet his searching gaze. He adores these moments, seated across from you at the dining table, sometimes curled up together on the couch, occasionally lying side by side in bed, his eyelids growing heavy as your tentative voice murmurs in a familiar tone Giyuu? As much vulnerability as you’re willing to give him is how much patience he has. He’s greedy, after all, for your trust in him — for the intimacy of overcoming that ringing weight of Am I enough?

“Talk to me. Please.”

“You’ve been in love before.”

He’s quiet, your statement quivering in his chest, frowning when he realizes just how bright your eyes have become, tears threatening to burst through your delicately kept tension.

“I have,” he says, heart clenching as you struggle to look away, “But they weren’t you.”

“Giyuu,” you deadpan, cracking a wry smile even as tears finally begin to fall, “That has got to be the most cliche answer in the book.”

“Oh?” he smiles back, smearing your tears with tender fondness before they drip off your jaw, “There’s a book?”

“I know it shouldn’t bother me because we both lived plenty of lives before we met. I know that. I know that what’s past has passed, and that I should be grateful for that past. I should be grateful for the lives that led us to each other. But I… can you really, truly be in love with me? With your whole heart?”

Silence seeps between your damp skin and Giyuu’s touch, your words processed and contemplated, inspected and prodded. You hold your breath, a bird perched to take flight, his faint smile and adoring eyes never leaving your own watery stare.

“I am really, truly in love with you. With my whole heart.”

“How can you be su-”

“Yes. I have loved before you. I have loved hard. I have loved with what I believed was my entire being. And yes, I have been heartbroken. I have yearned for what was no longer mine. I have wished to reverse time, to try again, to prove I am better than, more than, whatever separated me from my lover.” His smile broadens, undeniable warmth caressing your tears as he continues, “But my heart is complete. There are not bits and pieces of it lost to regret. There is not a single speck of my soul lingering, stalling, hoping to be with anyone else. I am in love with you, and I intend to spend the rest of my life this way.”

“This way?” you whisper.

“Just like this,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, “Here. In love, with you.”

“But what if-”

“There is no what if,” he interrupts gently, “Not for me. There’s your amazing laughter and your gorgeous smile. And your eyes, so beautiful, so full of love. There’s how cherished I feel by you, and how much I feel I can cherish you. There’re so many things about you, about who I am with you, about us… I can’t guarantee much, but I do know there’s only one of you. And I know how lucky I am to be loved by you; how lucky I am to love you. I find, as we spend more and more of our days together, that I care less and less for what if. You, you’re it.”

Giyuu can tell, the moment your tears begin to glisten with affection and hope. The moment the hardness in your gaze begins to dissolve, the insecurity and coldness in your demeanor melting to a radiant glimmer. He understands how difficult it is, accepting love that you feel is beyond your right — accepting love that you still struggle to believe in. And he knows it’s possible. Knows it’s possible to be loved so completely, so effortlessly, with all the effort in the world, that there isn’t room for fear, for loss, for doubt. That is how you love him.

“I love you,” you grin, licking at the corners of your mouth, saltiness coating your tongue, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he declares, a brilliant, endeared sound, enamored with the clarity of the emotion in your eyes, “I love you.”

You kiss him slowly, hands cupping his face, another shared laugh closer to forever.

[tkaulitzlvr]

could you pretty please write one with tom where him and reader go shopping together and she’s trying some things on in the change room, she asks for tom’s help unzipping something maybe and then they go at it in the change room? 🤭

RISKY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you have trouble taking off a dress that you have tried on whilst shopping with tom. you ask for his help, leading to the two of you doing something risky in the changing room - tom reminding you of your surroundings, using them to tease you even more.

content: smut

a/n: thank u sm for the req! someone else requested more or less the same thing so instead of writing two separate fics i just put the two together, hope that’s okay!! something a little shorter than usual, not as motivated as i would like to be rn, so apologies if this is a little sloppily written :/

my fingers clutch at the zipper for the third time, body bending in an awkward position to better my vision of it, yanking on the metal, groaning in frustration when, once again, it doesn’t budge. the dress is beautiful, the second i put it on i had fallen in love, admiring the way it shapes my figure, sucking me in at my stomach, highlighting my curves as a result. but, when i try to take it off, as i had been for the past five minutes, the zipper seems glued in place, not moving no matter how much force i apply.

i curse under my breath, knowing that there is no way i am getting this dress off - not alone anyways. tom had been waiting outside the small changing room for at least twenty minutes now, not checking in on me as he has gotten used to how long i take when trying things on, situating himself on the small couch outside, getting comfy and knowing he will be waiting a while.

i try once more, wiggling the zipper to try and pull it downwards at a different angle, careful not to tear the delicate stitching, yet it doesn’t move, a frustrated sigh leaving my lips. tom’s feet tap against the floor quickly, the sound echoing quietly through the room, reminding me that he is probably my only chance of getting this dress off, wanting to get out of it as soon as possible.

“tom?” i call out, pursing my lips as i wait for his response from the other side of the curtain. silence follows my words, my hands staying on the zipper, yanking helplessly at it, with no success.

“yeah?” he says, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the floor coming to a sudden stop.

“can you help me?” i ask, my voice tired as i sigh out, completely defeated.

he says nothing, yet i hear his body stand from the couch, his slow steps trudging towards the curtain, his hand reaching to touch the fabric as he pulls it open slightly, furrowing his eyebrows once he sees my state - hands awkwardly bending to touch the zipper, my face curved into a frown.

“you okay?” he asks, a smirk tugging on his lips as he stifles a laugh, slipping into the changing room and closing the curtain behind him.

“it’s not funny! can you just unzip this for me? it’s stuck.” i sigh, turning around so that my back is facing him.

his hand places itself onto my back, palm flat against my back, slightly cold. his other slowly reaches for the hair draped across my shoulders, gently collecting it, picking it up and handing it to me as i hold it in place, giving him easier access. he plants a small kiss against my back before his fingers touch the zipper, tugging it downwards effortlessly, making me wonder how i had struggled so much, tom making it look easy.

but, much to my surprise, he doesn’t stop there. he continues to drag the zipper downwards at an agonisingly slow pace, stopping once it is fully undone. i open my mouth to thank him, but soon snap it closed when i feel his hands move to slowly pull the thin straps from my shoulders, my breath hitching in my throat. his breath fans onto the back of my neck as i feel his face near me, goosebumps forming over the skin.

his hands continuing to work on the dress, the material peeling from my shoulder blades as the small of my back is left bare. his lips ghost against the skin, beginning to slowly suck on it, teeth digging in ever so slightly, my eyes fluttering closed.

“tom what are you-”

“shhhhh.” he whispers, pulling the dress from my upper half as the material pools at my waist, his hands running up and down my sides slowly, face now buried into my neck, leaning forward as his eyes hover over my shoulder, nose nudging against the front of it. “you think you can be quiet for me baby?”

he doesn’t wait for a response, instead moving his hands upwards to cup my breasts, a breathy moan leaving my lips, no longer bothered about our surroundings, completely flustered at his actions, silently praying that he will go further.

“ah ah ah.” he taunts, moving his hands away to rest loosely either side of me, watching the way my face falls in disappointment. “you have to stay quiet, you wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, would you schatz?”

i shake my head furiously, desperate for him to resume his motions, willing to try just about anything to stay quiet. a low chuckle leaves his lips at my hopelessness, lips curving into a small smirk once my hands reach to rest above his, attempting to bring them back to my breasts, becoming more needy then ever. he puts me out of my misery, though the look of satisfaction on his face says that my despair is entertaining to him, enjoying the way i wither helplessly in front of him, already begging for his touch despite his minimal actions.

his fingers toy with my nipples, lips brushing against the crook of my neck, gently making contact with the soft skin, placing small kisses there, my head tilting to the side to give him more access, teeth sinking into my lips to prevent any sounds from escaping. my head rests against his shoulders, eyes half-lidded as i watch his hands work against me through the large mirror in front of us. the kisses that he leaves on my neck soon turn into his lips sucking at the skin, his tongue running over the marks he leaves soon after, soothing the slight pain that his movements leave.

whilst his mouth works against my shoulder, trailing to the sensitive spot below my ear, his hands trail to his jeans slowly, fingers undoing the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops slowly, discarding it somewhere on the floor. swiftly undoing the button of his oversized jeans, tugging the zipper down quickly, the denim pooling at his feet, a small whine leaves my lips once his teeth graze against the sensitive spot on my neck.

“what did i say, hm? one more sound and i won’t touch you at all, you really want that to happen?” he taunts, planting open mouthed kisses over the same spot, his gaze moving upwards to make eye contact with me through the mirror, enjoying the way i attempt to shake my head, pursing my lips together, struggling to hold back the sounds desperate to be let out. after i mutter a small ‘no’, he nods his head, seemingly satisfied with my response.

his hand slips under the dress, travelling slowly across my abdomen, fingers dipping into my panties slowly, my breathing hitching. his eyes never leave the mirror, looking intently into my own, observing the way my teeth sink into my bottom lip, holding back any noise. he hums lowly, his pointer finger running through my folds, his tongue moving to play with his lip piercing, lips curving upwards once he realises how wet i am.

“so fucking needy, aren’t you? look at you, begging to be fucked, right here. anyone could walk in, but that doesn’t bother you, does it? you just want me to touch you…”

he pauses, hesitating a little, judging the way my eyes search his through the mirror, wondering how he will finish his sentence. though he decides that actions speak louder than words, his finger harshly coming to my clit, rubbing slow circles over it.

“like this, right?” he teases, speeding up his movements, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards to rest against his shoulder once again. resting in the back of my throat, a moan becomes increasingly close to spilling from my lips, my hand reaching upwards desperately, pulling his face roughly to mine, attaching my lips to his as i moan into his mouth, the sound low and muffled.

he chuckles into it, relishing my vulnerability, enjoying the effect that he has on me, making it more and more difficult for me to stay quiet as he speeds up his motions, my lips pressing harder against his own, the kiss messy and heated, holding back the inaudible sounds dangerously close to sounding out. i whine quietly against tom, lips stuttering as i am no longer able to kiss back, my face inches away from his.

his free hand moves downwards, impatiently tugging his boxers down, letting them fall to his feet, not bothering to take them off completely. wearing a dress works to my advantage right now, tom pulling away as his chin rests on my shoulder, studying my facial expression, reaching between my legs and underneath the dress. he moves my panties to the side, positioning his tip at my entrance.

“you gonna stay quiet yeah?” he asks, lips pressing against my shoulder.

i nod my head vigorously, tom watching my face as he moves his hips, slowly sliding into me, my hand flies to my mouth, pressing firmly against it to muffle the sounds that i cannot prevent from spilling from my lips, eyes rolling backwards as he slowly stretches me out, his gaze fixated on my face. his mouth falls open, slow and heavy breaths escaping from it, his hands remaining steadily on my hips as he bottoms out.

“shhh, that’s it, taking me so well. keep that pretty mouth closed, mhm?” he praises, moving backwards, almost pulling out fully, before snapping his hips forwards without warning, my entire body jolting upwards shock as he bottoms out.

he builds a fast pace, thrusting upwards into me from behind, his tip brushing against my sensitive spot as i squeeze my eyes shut, head falling backward once again.

“no no no…” he starts, hand coming upwards to tug on my hair, my eyes quickly jolting open as he circles his hips, creating a whole new angle. “look at yourself in that mirror. watch yourself as i fuck you.”

i can do nothing but comply with his words, watching the way my mouth falls open, tom’s dick thrusting in and out of me. my makeup is ruined, mascara falling down my cheeks in long, black lines, lipstick smudged from the way my lips had messily collided with his own. my eyes fall to study tom’s face - his eyebrows knitted together, teeth sinking into his lips as he struggles to stay silent himself, restrained whines leaving his lips with each sharp movement. sweat lines along his forehead, chest heaving up and down, muscles contracting as he squeezes my hips harshly, applying more and more pressure, steadying his hold on me whilst his dick continues to relentlessly disappear inside of me.

my face falls forward, no longer able to hold myself upright, feeling my climax building up, the urge to let out a soft moan stronger than ever. my walls clench instinctively around his cock, this sudden pressure unexpected to him.

“fuck!” he grunts, biting down harshly on my shoulder to prevent any more noise from leaving his lips. i repeat the motion, his teeth sinking further into my skin as i do so, the pain somehow fuelling the pleasure of his dick moving inside of me, bringing me closer and closer to my release.

his thrusts begin to falter, hips stuttering against me as his head falls backwards, mouth opening in a silent scream, ropes of his thick cum shooting inside of me.

“so close.” i mutter out, my voice only just above a whisper, throat dry and hoarse from my need to restrain it so much, desperate to show tom how good he is making me feel.

“touch yourself baby. c’mon, want you to cum all over my cock.” he encourages, speeding up his thrusts once again, still holding back a little, staring at me through the mirror, nodding his head slowly once my hand moves downwards, fingers playing with my clit as my legs buckle.

“there you go, just like that. feels good, doesn’t it?” he taunts, chuckling at the weak nods i send his way in response, unable to utter coherent sentences, the knot in my stomach coming undone.

my eyebrows knit together, eyes rolling to the back of my head, tom’s hand coming to cover my mouth.

“let out those pretty sounds schatz, it’s okay. c’mon, show me how good i make you feel.” i sigh in relief, letting out a high pitched moan, the sound muffled within his hand as his hips rock back and forth slowly, riding out my high.

he pulls out slowly, grunting quietly as he reaches for his boxers and jeans, hoisting them upwards, his breathing fast and heavy. i slip the dress off of my body, placing it back on the hanger, quickly putting my own clothes back on. tom turns to face me, slowly backing me up against the wall as his lips meet mine, a cocky smile tugging on them as he leans in. my lips move against his, hands reaching upwards to cup his face. he pulls back, that playful smile still present, his body pressed firmly against my own.

“we should fuck in places like this more often. you look so much hotter when you’re trying to stay quiet.” his lips ghost over mine, biting against them softly, about to lean in and kiss me again, before a stern voice sounds from outside the changing room, tom and i both turning towards the curtain, my face turning a dark shade of red.

“hey, whoever’s in there, get your things and leave right now, or we’re calling the police!”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[laura1633]

Hey Guys,

I said I would set a small fic challenge up for Lestappen's birthdays so here it is. I'm not going to set up a separate blog for it as it is just going to be a casual low key thing and it will be easier for me to manage from my main blog so I will just pin this note. It's going to be absolute complete chaos to start with as I have no idea how to do things or how it works so please be patient as things inevitably go wrong!

Dates and Guidelines are all below, this will outline how to submit a prompt as well as details about how to fill a prompt.

Key Dates: Submitting prompts: 2nd July - 16th July Claiming prompts: 2nd July - 16th October Posting finished works : 30th Sept - 16th October.

Guidelines for submitting a prompt 1. Prompts can be submitted by following this link and clicking on the 'Prompt Form' on the left hand side (you will need an ao3 account to do this) 2. All prompts must be centred around Lestappen (although it doesn't necessarily mean it has to be a romantic relationship). 3. Prompts can include as many other characters as you like (including other drivers, team principles, other sports stars etc) as long as the focus is on Max and Charles. As an example, you can prompt a poly relationship for Max, Charles and Oscar and Oscar can feature prominently as long as both Max and Charles also play a central role to the story, this is a Lestappen fest after all! 4. You can prompt fluff or smut or anything else you can think of. If your prompt contains sensitive topics then please try and use the tags accordingly when prompting. 5. Prompts are preset to be anonymous. There is a box at the bottom of the prompt form that states 'Semi-anonymous Prompt?' leave this box ticked to keep your prompt anonymous. 6. You will need an ao3 account to submit using the steps above. If you don't have an ao3 account but would still like to submit a prompt then please send an ask to me but clearly label it "Lestappen Birthday Fest prompt". If its not labelled I won't know that it is a prompt. Please try and limit the number of prompts sent through asks as I think I will be limited in the amount I am able to add to ao3. Once I hit the limit I will update here.

Guidelines for claiming a prompt 1. The prompts can be found here and you are free to claim them as soon as you want. You do not need to wait for the prompt window to close before claiming your prompts. 2. Feel free to claim as many prompts as you feel you will be able to complete. There are no consequences to not fulfilling a prompt but it’s better not to over claim if you know you won’t have the time to fulfil them.  3. The claims and fills are not set to anonymous so it will show that you have claimed the prompt. However, there are no consequences whatsoever in claiming a prompt and then having to drop it. 4. It is fine to claim a prompt someone else has already claimed. You can also claim your own prompts.

Guidelines for filling a prompt 1. You can fulfil your claim at any time but the collection will be set as unrevealed until the 30th September so your fic will not go live until the 30th September. This also means you can go into your work and edit it right up until 30th September. 2. When completing your work on ao3 there is an option that states 'Set a different publication date' so I would suggest setting the date as 30th September. 3. Whilst the collection will go live on 30th September (Max's birthday) you can keep fulfilling your claims right up until the 16th October (Charles' Birthday) 4. Please make sure you tag your works in regards to sensitive topics. 5. Whilst the aim is to get at least some works posted in the period 30th Sept - 16th Oct I do recognise that if you are writing a longer fic you might need some more time and so I will leave the collection open for people to add to it after the 16th if this is necessary.

What if I want to submit my own piece of work rather than fill a prompt? The very first prompt on the page is a free prompt, you can claim this if you want to post your own piece of work to the collection. Does it have to be a fic? Absolutely not, you can post artwork too if you would like.

Still have questions? If you still have any questions then please feel free to send me an ask either anon or not. Please just be patient as I might not respond straight away, unfortunately I have a very boring job that also takes up my time!

There will be some issues at the start whilst I sort things out so we will just see how it all goes!

Remember it's all for fun with no pressure ❤️

[incogrio]

k.th - escape with me

pairing: taehyun x gn! reader

genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort except i’m bad at writing the hurt part

synopsis: taehyun tries to make up for not being able to go out in public w u. ends up trying to act tough in an escape room.

warnings: poorly written all around, angst, tae is kinda mean, reader is cringy, members make fun of tae

w/c: 1.5k+

a/n: okay so. this took so long to write bc ya boy has been STRUGGLING w both motivation and the wifi in costa rica. i kinda gave up at the end, pls forgive me :( once im back in the states, ill be writing much better fics! and i’ll be accepting requests for enhypen too!!!!! (might be a little inaccurate as i am currently getting into them) ANYWAYS LOVE YALL I HOPE YOU DONT KILL ME FOR HOW BAD THIS IS!!!

taehyun was, in many ways, your dream boy. he was affectionate, protective, caring, funny, and he always listened.

except for when he couldn’t.

you were currently in your third fight of the week with your boyfriend of a few months. the topic of your arguments never wavered: you could never be seen in public with him. actually, scratch that. you could be in public with him. it’s not like you wanted a huge display of affection right in the middle of the streets of seoul. you did, however, want to feel like your relationship with your boyfriend wasn’t so one sided.

“tyun, please, stop.” you cried, resting your head in your hands whilst seated on the couch.

“no, you have to listen! i can’t give you what you want, y/n. if only you stopped being so selfish.”

and then, footsteps. a door slamming. blood began rushing to your ears and manifesting itself as tears cascading down your cheeks. he never called you by your real name. he never left you in the middle of a fight. he never made you sob without consoling you. he never.

it wasn’t until two days later that you heard from taehyun in forms other than ‘did you eat?’ texts and doordash notifications. three heavy knocks erupted from the side of taehyun’s fist and the wooden door. the same door that you had been seated at everyday for hours, awaiting his return.

“angel, are you there?” he asked, his voice clearly strained from sobbing or yelling, or both. you didn’t respond, but he noticed your shadow sitting on the ground via the slit between the door and the floor.

he sighed as he slowly adjusted himself to sit with his side and head leaning against the wood.

“you don’t have to open up. just listen, yeah? can you listen for me, doll?” he asked rhetorically. “i am so sorry, angel. you… you deserve so much more than i am able to give you. so much more than hiding and sneaking around and figuring out disguises. you deserve your praises shouted from the rooftops.” taehyun sighed.

a pregnant pause. “i talked to hybe. that’s… that’s what i’ve been doing. i told them how much it’s been hurting us. and i think we can make this work! if you want to, angel… please, please want to.”

you sniffle. “i do.” taehyun closed his eyes and sighed dreamily at the sound of your voice. he allowed himself to cry for a moment, biting his lip to quench his whines.

“thank you, baby.”

a few days later, taehyun is in the back of txt’s van, accompanied by all the members and you. he had promised you that you’d be able to go on actual dates, as long as they were slightly modified. restaurants would be cleared out of people, and staff were to sign an nda. parks were to be closed off to the general public due to “maintenance”. movie theaters were to be kept completely dark at all times, with only you two and the staff not even being allowed to know who the famous person was. it was not a normal relationship, far from it, but it was yours. and he cared enough to try for you.

today, you were on your way to an escape room. txt were already filming a “to-do” episode in this specific location, and taehyun managed to convince the staff to give him a separate escape room to do with you after the filming had ended. you were ecstatic when he told you, and he was ecstatic that you were no longer crying because of him.

except, for a few days ago, when he told his beloved members of the plans.

“you’re taking… them… to an escape room? you’re a scaredy cat.” soobin noted with a scrunched up face in confusion. tyun’s happy smile slowly deflated, his eyes uncrinkling as he thought about what he said.

beomgyu immediately burst out laughing, “you’re gonna embarrass yourself! oh my god- you should record it too!” taehyun immediately rolled his eyes, and pretended his members words didn’t get to him. kai immediately went up to him and patted his back silently.

so now, as he sits next to you he’s fidgeting with his shorts, looking out the window as his sweat becomes more frequent. would you think he was a loser if he got scared? would you break up with him? make fun of him? prefer kai because of his calmness when it comes to jumpscares?

he began bobbing his leg up and down, gnawing at his lip as the van finally pulled up to the filming location. taehyun tried his best to calm himself for the filming, but found that the members had to say his nerves were from fear of the jumpscares.

what felt like too long and too little time passed, and suddenly you were both being told the synopsis of your goal by the escape room manager.

as you both walk inside the dimly lit, extremely decorated gigantic cage, you slip your hand into taehyuns.

“i’m a little nervous…” you muttered, and he felt a glimpse of both hope and bravery blossom in his chest.

a small smile graced his lips, “don’t worry, i’ll protect you!” he said with his teeth sticking out from behind his lips. he looked adorably unthreatening. immediately after, a booming recording welcomed you into the chamber.

“WELCOME LAB RATS!” it shouted, causing you both to jump, “DONT WORRY! YOU WONT BE IN THIS CAGE SOON! SOON, YOU’LL BE JUST LIKE HIM!” and suddenly! the roof pops open and a giant, fake rat corpse falls to the ground. you immediately shriek and hide behind taehyun, and he gulps in fear as he tries his best to maintain his composure.

he reaches behind him with one hand, holding your waist softly as he tries to simultaneously comfort the both of you, and uses his free hand to stuff his closed fist into his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle his scream.

you slowly creep out from behind him, realizing how obviously fake the rat was and that you had missed all of the clues the fake doctor had given you during the rest of his monologue. oh well, you think, and look to tae.

“are you…” you laugh a little, “are you okay?” you ask incredulously as you witness his biting on his fist. he looks up, immediately dropping his fist and shoving his tough guy act back on.

he nods, clenching his jaw and trying to keep a straight face.

oh, you think. oh this is going to be fun.

you insist on splitting up, looking around a comically food bowl and finding various clues and seemingly random items.

tae is behind you on the other side of the cage. he reaches his hand inside the giant pile of fake hamster shavings, straining his neck to keep his eyes barely looking at the scene in front of him. as he combs through the shavings, his hands wrap around a small, cylindrical object. he shrieks in fear, launching back and landing on his butt before crawling over to you.

he clears his throat pointlessly, “um… something is over there…” he says, voice wavering despite his want to seem fine.

you have to bite your lip in order to hold back your laughter. you walk over, kneeling at the shavings.

he whined out a small, “ahh!!!” as he closed his eyes and turned away, only hearing you reach inside. you pull out what looked to be a kaleidoscope. you decide to have some fun.

“i got it,” you mutter, and he slowly turns back towards you. “wait what the… AHHHHH!!!!” you start screaming in faux terror when you lifted it up to look through it, throwing it across the cage. taehyun, despite his fear, rushes up next to you, holding your cheeks in his palms and squishing them together slightly.

“are you okay?” he asked, nervousness obvious in his boba eyes.

you shake your head and pout dramatically, “you look and see!!” you insist.

he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and slowly going up to the kaleidoscope as though it would reach out and bite him. he brings it up to his eye, and tilts his head.

“there’s nothing?” he remarks in tiny english, to which you grow genuinely confused at. you were being dramatic, yes, but before you saw a beautiful design with letters and numbers throughout.

“what?” you walk up, looking through it. and again, darkness. you slowly lower it from your eye, bringing a hand to cover your mouth in shock. “oh my god i broke it.”

“huh?”

“TYUN I WAS BEING DRAMATIC SO I COULD SCARE YOU BUT OH MY GOD I BROKE IT.”

he stares at you in disbelief, before letting out a few giggles and looking up at one of the cameras in the room.

“can we still complete the escape room?” he asked, scratching the back of his head as he ignored your cackling.

they only hear a sigh, before being promptly kicked out of the building.

long story short: next time, just ask your beautiful boba eyed boyfriend to take you bowling. he’d still embarrass himself, but at least the props will stay intact.

comment, dm, or ask to be added to the taglist!

requests are open for both enhypen and txt!! ask to your hearts content :3

don’t forget your daily click to help palestine! (it’s completely free and just one click!)

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

FANFIC POLL TIME!

Descriptions (because i NEED to explain things haha-):

CHOOSE WISELY

Of Bridges Built & Burned: Based off this clowning between me and @moodyseal

BUCKLE UP THIS GETS WILD READ THE LINK ABOVE FOR A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION

TD;LR- Commodus and Apollo get to both scream about their relationship (because it's usually only Commodus who does that), Commodus goes off to sulk/stew over it while Apollo completes his trials, then post-ToA they meet again and have a Much Needed Talk

...and *sobs* go separate ways... *ugly sobbing* DON'T MIND ME-

you know you love the ship when you write them breaking up in the most heart-wrenching scenario possible.

but shh...i have another idea to do with this but that's for another time😈

The Art of War: I've been DYING to do SOMETHING with Apollo (Favorite Son™) and Ares (Failure Son™) and I have 3 whole scenes in different points of time now!!!

First is when Apollo's young and new on Olympus. He's been shoved onto Ares for the time being because in Ancient Greece, boys were raised by their fathers and girls by their mothers, and when the father was unavailable, it was the eldest brother's job to watch his younger brothers.

Second scene is during/post Ares's kidnapping by the giants! Some Apollo angst, Zeus being the best dad ever (not), and Ares not having a good time.

Third and finally, is a little conversation post-ToA between them :3

The Sun's Rise: At last! Out of the vault! The moment we've been waiting for! Starring our boy Apollo, Prometheus being Prometheus, and a guest star you all should know by now :3

Hyapollo Multific: YEAH YOU HEARD IT. FIVE CHAPTERS OF HYAPOLLO, WITH SIDE DISHES OF APRICITY, HYARICITY, AND ONE-SIDED ZEPHYRUS PINNING FOR HYAPOLLO. COME GET UR FLUFF-DRAMA-ANGST FEST

@hyac1nthus i know you'd want to see this >:3

Koios ToA: What the hell was Koios doing during ToA? This fic will play like a snapshot of what our favorite titan was up too. Questions will be asked, answers will be found, and oh boy Phoebe and Koios are gonna have a bit o' long-overdue marital strife.

Drunk Twins: literally what is says on the label. the twins get drunk and the Hunt has to call in the mama wolf for backup lmao

The Conspiracy of Rachel Elizabeth Dare: based on this post by @hogoflight and expanded upon here by me! Rachel Dare is a conundrum to her friends, and they put their detective hats on to solve the case!

ToA BuzzFeed Unsolved: The Queer Capers of Lester Papadopoulos and Meg McCaffrey: BUZZFEED TIME! We need ToA buzzfeed fics so here I am making one :3

Apollo V Orion fight (with a side-dish of Jupiter & Commodus): Exactly what it says on the label lmao I had three oneshot ideas and then I went "COMBINE THEM!!" so here is a oneshot with three different things in it making a cohesive story :3

A Radiant Light: Did I make up an entire backstory for one background character? Yes. Is that character Phoebe the Hunter? Also yes.

how to get your daughter to divorce your brother and marry your nephew: a guide by demeter: funny fic about Demeter trying to get Meg, Nico, and Will to help her convince Persephone to divorce Hades and marry Apollo. Based off one of my headcanons haha

👀 lookin' forward to a lot of these, hehe!

Tag list: @txny-dragon @solahflare @fuzzystudios @apollosothertwin @peishathebookity @reuben-7991 @allylyrac @the-summersun

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

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Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

[butterflyexe]

Hearts attached 🖤

Max Verstappen x Reader Warning: Hints of sexual themes, desperation, parental neglect, depression, assault

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic and I am completely an amature in this department. This took me about a week of researching of how to write and what to write. I had to delete and rewrite it several times and half of the words I wasn't even familiar with 3 days ago. Please treat me with kindness.

In which some people are born with their souls entangled with their other halves which allows them to fell the emotions of their soulmate.

Soulmates are the two halves of the same eternal flame. When an eternal flame splits into two, it forms two halves of the same soul. When one of the flames are born in a human form, the other does too. They are bound to each other through heart.

In a world where only a select few are born with intertwined souls, Max Verstappen and Vivian Eloise found themselves bound by this extraordinary connection.

Max, a man hardened by his father’s relentless pursuit of victory, was a stark contrast to Vivian, a woman whose spirit was as vibrant as her laughter. Their lives were separate, yet together, connected by an invisible thread of shared emotions.

Max’s life was a constant race, a battle against himself. His father’s mantra, “Second winner is the first loser” echoed in his mind, shaping him into a man always on edge, always pushing, always striving. His emotions were a turbulent sea of anxiety, frustration, and exhaustion. He often over did himself, fighting himself to be better than the rest. He would do everything, go to any extent just to make his father proud. Yet, amidst this storm, there was a source of light and comfort - Vivian.

Vivian was a ray of sunshine. Raised in a family that nurtured her with love and kindness, she radiated happiness. Her laughter was infectious, her spirit unbreakable. But she also felt a pull, a tug at her heartstrings whenever Max was overwhelmed. She felt his emotions as if they were her own, and she found herself wanting to soothe his troubled soul.

Whenever Max was engulfed in self-doubt, feeling insecure, Vivian would find joy in the simplest things. She would dance in the rain, sing at the top of her lungs, lose herself in the pages of a good book or pour her heart out on the canvas. Her happiness flowed through their shared bond, washing over Max like a soothing balm. He could feel her joy seeping into his veins, calming his racing heart, and for a moment, he would forget his worries.

When Vivian experiences intense period cramps, Max senses her discomfort as if it were his own. When it first happaned, he thought he had gotten some severe stomach flu. Upon asking his mother he realized just how difficult it is to handle them. Max spent hours researching about mansturation, it's effects on women and ways to sooth them.Max took some special measures during this difficult period. He prepares a warm herbal tea, knowing it can ease muscle tension. Max put heating pads against his stomach to help her calm down and would eat chocolates his taste buds sensed her eat. His empathy and care help alleviate her pain, turning their shared suffering into a moment of connection and support.

Both of them would often spend hours at a time to try and imagine how the other looked, what were their favorite songs, favorite food etc. Max would often find himself wondering if she watched F1, if she knew him, if she was a fan. What was the possibility of her watching him race? He would try to give his absolute best in case she was watching.

Vivian would wonder what he looked like, if he had brown eyes like her or if they were blue. She would often try and pour her heart on her canvas using her best colours. She would wonder what book he was reading if her read any at all. She would wonder if he liked to admire art and paintings like she did.

Their lives were a dance of emotions, a symphony of feelings. They navigated through their separate lives, yet they were never truly apart. Their souls were intertwined, their emotions shared. They yearned for each other, a longing that was as deep as the ocean.

And then, one faithful day, they met. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together. Their eyes met each other's on the qualifying day of the Australian grand prix and in that moment, they knew. They knew they were soulmates. The connection was palpable, a current of electricity that buzzed between them. It was a meeting of souls, a fusion of hearts.

In the end, Max found solace in Vivian’s joy, and Vivian found purpose in soothing Max’s turmoil. They were two halves of a whole, separate yet together, navigating through life in their unique dance of emotions. Their story is a testament to the power of shared emotions, the strength of an invisible bond, and the beauty of soulmates.

[lumilasi]

Since I've been updating one of my bleach fics more recently, I felt the once-in-a-blue-moon urge to draw something from it.....decision I VERY MUCH regretted lmao, because what I picked was SUPER difficult to draw, and I had to take some creative liberty with these designs, lessening the detail in them (Didn't even have a proper ref for Oni-Ichigo to begin with...).

Still, I managed to finish this at least. Fanart isn't really my thing anymore that much so these will be rare, even if I am writing semi-regularly.

The scene this bases on from Jack of All Hollows:

(Context, this is a memory viewed by "main" Ichigo of the story, Oni-Ichigo is a separate person)

Grimmjow eventually shifts, now just sitting on the bridge ledge properly, dangling his bare feet over the water. His companion follows his example, though chooses to keep his legs towards the bridge instead, sitting the other way around. He was still glancing at Grimmjow, and Ichigo could tell that color on his demon doppleganger’s face wasn’t just alcohol. He looked like there was something he was trying to say, but was hesitating.

Ichigo knew what it was.

Clearly, Grimmjow was aware of his companion mulling over something, as the blunet eventually snorts and turns to look at Oni Ichigo annoyed.

"What? Spill it, I can literally hear yer overthinkin’ shit again.”

"You can share memories, not read minds.”

"The gears in your brain are so rusty they make shit ton of noise, Kurosaki. Hard not to hear all that.”

The ginger demon laughs at that, his reaction seemingly confusing his companion a little, the point he now grabs Oni Ichigo’s arm and threatens to throw him into the river if he didn’t explain what was so damn funny now. His companion eventually manages to stop laughing with a wheeze, now looking back at the pouty looking blunet, who was clearly still confused about his behavior.

"Yer way too drunk huh; never knew your stubborn ass was this lightweight.”

"Yeah, guess I am.”

Watching the pair, Ichigo felt uneasy now, suddenly having a feeling this wouldn’t end well for his twin. Obviously, this Ichigo had died, but beyond that…

Suddenly, his twin leans closer, clearly catching Grimmjow off-guard. The kiss doesn’t last long, and once his twin pulls back he had gone completely red, now averting his gaze and rubbing his neck sheepishly. Grimmjow had gone completely stiff, just like he’d done that night at that other bridge.

"S-sorry. I….uh.”

He seems to struggle for a moment to decide what to say, still avoiding the blue eyes staring at him. Grimmjow still hadn’t moved an inch, as if his brain had short circuited and he was struggling to process what just happened.

"….You know. You’re not as bad as I thought when we first met. And lately, I don’t know. I just….I like hanging out with you, when you’re not trying to kill me.”

Oni Ichigo chuckles sheepishly, still avoiding his gaze. Grimmjow now turns his head away, his face still unreadable, though the shock seemed to have faded. The atmosphere around the pair had shifted from the easygoing drunkedness to something much more tense and awkward, though Ichigo wasn’t sure if he was reading it that way, or if the emotion was attached to the memory itself.

"I’ve been thinking about that a lot. And….I-I don’t think its…”

Oni Ichigo swallows down hard now, finally daring to look up at Grimmjow. Seeing that uneasy look in his eyes, oh fuck he was scared too. It had clearly taken his twin a lot to bring this up, and so far, neither could tell what Grimmjow was thinking.

"I don’t think it’s friendly affection I’m feeling.”

Silence.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 68 | Part 69

Lmao nice.

Side note- I know I’ve been more active on Tumblr as of recently, though I haven’t been posting more of this fic. I think I needed that hiatus more than I thought I did. Trying to keep up the posting schedule I had was draining me too much, and I was overwhelmed. So I’m going to do things a little different after this fic. For starters, if you’re not following #starambles, please do if you want to keep up with what I’m writing. That’s my writing tag. I also link everything in my masterlist. I’ll have separate fic tags for each multi-chapter fic, but I will no longer be doing taglists. This does not apply to IISS: I will complete this fic with the taglist it’s amassed. However, I will no longer be adhering to my previous schedule. Instead I will post whenever I’m ready to. It may take a while, but I figure if it’s this or no more IISS, the answer would be this. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, that’s completely fine; just let me know! Also someone please confirm this tagged you in the correct way. Thank you for understanding.

Steve takes stock of himself, smiles a little as he says, “I am, yeah.” He’s a little surprised, but only a little. Eddie’s proven himself great at getting Steve out of his head. “Thank you.”

Eddie gently squeezes his hand. “Wanna stay up here a little longer, before we face the circus downstairs?”

Steve hums. “You can go back down, if you want.”

“You do that a lot.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You do that a lot. You put everyone else’s comfort before your own.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m good at going without. I don’t need a lot.”

Eddie leans his head back with a sigh. “I’ve got a feeling going back in time will change that. Now you’ve got me and Alli to tell you when you’re being a self-sacrificing idiot.”

Steve winces. Covers it up with a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Eddie looks at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Steve.”

Steve tilts his head back, squeezes his eyes shut. “Just. It won’t make sense, in this time, because half of it hasn’t happened yet, but you’ve known Dustin for all of a day and I’m willing to bet you already know how he’d act when I don’t know something he does. And-” he takes a breath. It only stutters a little. “Nancy. It was- she meant it in a sweet way, y’know? But she’d tell me, you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington. And… I know I’m not the smartest. I know there’s obvious things that I miss all the time. And I can only blame so much of it on the concussions, y’know? But at the same time… I’m not actually stupid. Impulsive, maybe, sometimes, but I do have a brain that actually works most of the time. So.” He shrugs. “I dunno. I just don’t like being called an idiot.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, Stevie.”

“‘S okay. You didn’t know.”

“No, but I should know better than to call people stupid. Wayne would box my ears for that. In fact, I think I’ll go downstairs right now, ask him to remind me.” He makes to get up, but Steve, laughing, pulls him back down.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve chuckles. “I like your ears un-boxed, thank you.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “I’m not gonna call you that again. How’s asshole sound? Self-sacrificing asshole has a nice ring to it.”

Steve collapses in giggles. “I guess if I deserve it.”

“You do,” Eddie promises him, then grumbles to himself. “Trying to get me to go downstairs, I swear.”

Steve giggles some more. “Okay, I get it,” he swears. “I’d like to stay up here for a few more minutes, then we can go back downstairs.”

“Okay.” Eddie grins at him. “I’ve got a couple ideas on how we could spend a few more minutes.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, leaning closer. “And what would that be?”

“I think you know,” Eddie murmurs, close enough to Steve that he’s practically speaking into Steve’s mouth.

Neither of them mind, clearly, because in the next second they’re kissing, Steve’s hands on Eddie’s shoulders for stability, Eddie’s hands gently stroking Steve’s back, up and down, up and down. He moves out a little and grabs at Steve’s hips, and Steve hums into his mouth. Eddie grins into the kiss, so in retaliation Steve twines a hand into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie gently bites Steve’s tongue, and Steve holds in the noise that wants to come out. He gently pulls back instead. “Eddie,” he murmurs. “We should stop.”

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead on Steve’s collarbone. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Steve snorts. “I’m not. I like what we just did. But I also know we should get back downstairs soon.”

Eddie hums in agreement. “Yeah. Lemme just sit here for a minute and think about, like, grandmas with dentures, or something.”

Steve laughs. “That’s probably a good idea,” he admits. He shifts, rests his back against the bed again, sighs. Smiles when Eddie grabs his hand again. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” He pauses, just long enough for Eddie to start to fidget, before finishing with a smile. “Here at the end of all things, Eds.”

Eddie groans and flops over on top of Steve. “And you know Lord of the Rings? Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Fly?” Steve asks, which causes Eddie to laugh.

“Nah,” he says, rolling so his head is pillowed on Steve’s lap. “I think you could just ask gravity not to work and it would let you fly.”

Steve snorts and cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “I think you’re biased.”

“I can be biased and right.”

Steve just hums. “Your hair is surprisingly soft.”

Eddie blinks. “Um. Thanks?”

Steve chuckles. “I just mean it’s surprising because of how frizzy it is.

Eddie snickers. “You want to take care of it, don’t you?”

“So bad,” Steve agrees, also laughing. “Your choice, though.”

Eddie smiles. “Maybe once the chaos has calmed down?”

“Sure.” Steve sighs. “Ready to go downstairs?”

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

Steve smiles. “Then let’s go.”

Eddie rolls off of him so Steve can stand. He then offers Eddie a hand up.

“Wait,” Steve requests, right as Eddie’s reaching for the doorknob.

Eddie pulls back, turns to Steve. “Yeah?”

“Kiss first?”

“Kiss always,” Eddie agrees, and happily leans in.

After they pull apart, there’s a knock at the door, and a tentative voice. “Steve? Eddie?”

It’s Dustin.

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[forest-hashira]

Noble Blood - Chapter Eleven

ok so life things happened again so i wasn't able to finish this chapter quite as soon as i would have liked, but. considering how long it is i am hoping you'll all have a little bit of mercy on me. i don't know how it got this long, it wasn't supposed to be this long, but i knew i couldn't split it yet again, so. y'know. also i had this song on repeat the whole time i was writing this chapter, if you want the vibes. i don't have much else to say tbh but i hope you enjoy!

fic masterlist | read on ao3 | wc: ~13k | cw: gender neutral reader, yet another festival sorry, reader has A Lot of anxiety this chapter, reader is nude around an adult they are not related to. nothing at all sexual happens but i wanted to give a heads up about it just in case.

Just as your mother had said, the rest of the week really did fly by. Because it was still winter break for school, Satoru and Suguru had nowhere else to be, so the three of you spent every waking moment together – and even some of the sleeping ones. You still slept in Suguru’s bed, wearing Satoru’s clothes every night, while the boys continued to share Satoru’s bed. You’d expected a fight to break out because of it at some point, but it never had. Which was a good thing, of course, but was still surprising.

The only downside to the week going by so fast was that, before you knew it, you had reached the day of the festival, which you had been dreading ever since Gojo-sama had informed you of it. 

That morning, you were woken by a servant entering the room and calling your name, which, of course, woke all three of you. Still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stepped out from behind the privacy screen that separated Suguru’s bed from the rest of the room. “Is something wrong?” you asked around a yawn.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she assured. “But we need to start getting you ready for tonight’s celebration.”

“Can’t that wait until after breakfast?” Satoru groused, scowling at the servant; even after all these years, he still wasn’t a morning person.

“I’m afraid not, Gojo-dono,” the servant replied with an apologetic smile. “Gojo-sama’s orders.”

Satoru’s scowl only deepened, but you cut in before he could argue.

“It’s fine, ‘Toru,” you told him, hoping you sounded as reassuring as you were trying to be. “I’ll catch up with you guys at lunch, okay? Just go back to sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment, still glowering at the servant, but he finally relented when Suguru bumped him lightly with his shoulder. 

“Fine,” the white haired boy grumbled, though his expression softened slightly as he turned his attention to you. “You can throw a tantrum if they start to bother you,” he said, expression completely serious. “Always works for me.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at the other boy’s words, but offered you a small smile. “We’ll catch up with you later,” he promised. 

Oddly reassured by Satoru’s advice and soothed by Suguru’s promise, you nodded, murmuring one last small goodbye before following the servant out of the room, Takara cradled to your chest as always. 

You were led to a part of the house you’d never been to before – the very center of the house, if you had to guess – and were a bit confused when you were ushered into a bathroom, where there was already a tub of steaming water. 

“But I just took a bath last night,” you said, more than a little confused as you turned to face the servant you had been following. 

“Gojo-sama’s instructions were clear,” she said simply, though she did look a bit apologetic. “He said you were to be bathed and thoroughly scrubbed clean before we dressed you for the event.”

You blinked dumbly for a moment at her words before something clicked in your mind. “You mean… I don’t just get to bathe myself? And I don’t get to dress myself after?”

“That’s correct,” she confirmed, without any sort of change in her expression. “It’s how Gojo-dono has always been prepared for events,” she added, as if that made the concept of being scrubbed and dressed by complete strangers any less horrifying. “It’s just how things are done.”

Though the idea made you more than a little uncomfortable, you weren’t confident enough to try and argue, too overwhelmed already by everything that was happening, and you hadn’t even gotten started.

Thankfully, the servant turned her back and allowed you a small amount of privacy as you undressed and climbed into the tub, after setting Takara on top of your clothes; she was still so small, and you didn’t want her to get cold while you were unable to hold her.

Once you were fully seated in the tub, the servant turned and began gathering the soaps and things she would need to bathe you, allowing you to soak in the hot water for a few moments. When she turned to you, though, she gestured for you to tip your head backwards. “Need to wet your hair so I can wash it,” she explained. Hesitantly, you nodded, then did as she asked. The hot water felt good against your scalp, but the woman’s fingers were anything but gentle as they worked the soap into your hair, her nails raking against your scalp somewhat unpleasantly.

Eventually she rinsed the soap from your hair, then rubbed something that looked a lot like lotion into the strands. Whatever it was smelled strongly of herbs, but you found you didn’t mind it very much. When she told you to stand so she could give you a good scrub, you wanted to refuse, to say you were capable of bathing yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue with her stern expression. So you stood, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as she scrubbed virtually every inch of your body, her movements thorough and efficient, if a bit rougher than you would’ve liked; not having to look at her as she washed you lessened the humiliation you felt, even if only a little.

Once you were deemed satisfactorily clean, the servant sat you back down in the tub and rinsed out whatever it she had put in your hair. Then she ushered you out of the tub, handing you a large, thick towel.

“Dry yourself quickly,” she said, “Then come through that door over there. That’s where we’ll be dressing you and getting you otherwise ready for the event.” As she spoke, she pointed to a door on the other side of the room you hadn’t noticed before – though, granted, you hadn’t been paying much attention. 

You nodded to confirm you understood, then waited until she had left the room to begin drying yourself with the towel. The material was soft, much softer than any other towels your family had ever owned, and that, if nothing else, was a relief. Once you were dried off, you secured the towel around yourself, then turned to Takara, who was sitting up and watching you curiously, head cocked ever so slightly to the right.

“Well,” you told her quietly, attempting a small smile. “Guess we should let them finish getting us ready, hm?” You carefully scooped up the hatchling and the pile of clothes she sat on, not sure if you were meant to leave them behind or not. Crossing the room, you pushed open the door that had been pointed out to you, and your eyes widened at the scene before you.

There were at least three servants in the room, and what seemed to you to be dozens and dozens and dozens of kimonos and coordinating accessories laid out across the multiple vanity tables in the room. Most of them looked like silk, shiny and in a spectrum of more metallic shades. It occurred to you after a moment that they were trying to match your outfit to the color of your dragon as best they could.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when you stepped through the door, turning to look at you with neutral expressions. Until they spotted Takara, at least. When they caught sight of the hatchling, their eyes all flew wide, as if they hadn’t believed she existed until right that moment. Snapping out of whatever trance your dragon seemed to have put them all under, one of the servants, a girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six years older than you, turned to you with a gentle smile.

“Do you have any preference about what colors your accessories are?” she asked kindly. “If we can start narrowing things down now, we can make this as quick for you as possible.”

The question caught you a bit off guard; you hadn’t expected to have any sort of say in the whole process, so you weren’t entirely sure how to even answer the question. “I, uh…” you hesitated, glancing around at everything laid out on the tables to see what your options were. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it seemed there were accessories in every color you could imagine and then some. “I think… could we do green?”

“Of course, there’s plenty of green to work with over there. Is there a specific shade…” the girl trailed off when she saw Takara stirring in your arms, and she gasped softly when the hatchling opened her eyes.

You offered a slightly bashful smile at her reaction, and asked, somewhat redundantly, “Can we try to match her eyes?”

You’d barely gotten a nod in response before the woman who had bathed you came over to you, taking the clothes from your arms and carrying them off to some unknown part of the room, presumably to be taken away and washed. Wordlessly, she ushered you into the center of the room, only stopping once you stood in front of a mirror.

“You’ll have to put her down while we get you dressed,” she told you, with a slight nod towards Takara.

Her words make your heart stop for a moment. She was right, of course, and you knew it, but you desperately did not want to be separated from your only friend in the room, especially since it seemed that getting dressed would not be a quick, simple process. 

“…Where am I supposed to put her?” you asked eventually, still not confident enough to try and defy her, doubly so considering she was just carrying out Gojo-sama’s orders. 

“Over there.” She gestured to the closest vanity table, which had a small section at the end cleared off except for a rather fancy looking cushion. So, after another moment of hesitation, you carried your dragon over to the cushion, carefully setting her down and promising her you weren’t going anywhere.

Once you were back in front of the mirror, the woman circled you slowly, looking you up and down as if trying to imagine exactly how things would fit on you before even attempting to get you into any of the possible outfits – outfits you knew would be far too complicated for you to ever get into or out of on your own. She said nothing when she turned away from you, instead carefully examining all the options laid out. They all looked almost exactly the same to you, but the servant woman clearly had a much more discerning eye than you, and skipped over most of the fabrics without even really considering them.

When she paused in front of one of the outfits, you craned your neck, trying to see which one had caught her attention, but your view was blocked by her torso. She glanced between the clothes and Takara a few times, then picked up the outfit and, still blocking it from your view, walked over to Takara.

“Please don’t touch her!” you blurted, once the woman was standing between you and your dragon. It was the closest thing to an argument you’d made all morning, and you just hoped you wouldn’t be punished for it.

“I won’t,” the woman responded, her voice gentler than you would’ve thought she was capable of. “I just want to make sure the color matches her scales.” As she considered the match, she continued to speak to you. “There are some undergarments on the chair beside the mirror. Do you see them?”

Glancing a little to the left of where you stood, you spotted the chair and the clothes she was talking about. “Yes ma’am.”

“I need you to take your towel off and put them on. You can step behind the mirrors if you would like a bit more privacy.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, the idea of being allowed a small amount of privacy so at the very least nobody else would see you naked giving you such a feeling of relief you worried for a moment that you might start crying. You hurriedly picked up the clothes, stepping into the small space behind the mirrors, which were in the corner of the room, and dropped your towel. The undergarments were nothing special, but wearing actual clothes again made you feel a little less out of your depth during this whole situation.

The servant woman was waiting for you when you stepped out from behind the mirror. “Just place your towel on the chair, if you will,” she instructed. She had the outfit draped over her arm, and though you couldn’t see all of it, you could see that it was the exact same shade of copper as Takara, which you were a little surprised by. You didn’t have long to linger on that realization, though, because as soon as you set your towel down on the chair, you were being guided to your previous spot in front of the mirrors by another servant.

Having multiple people invading your personal space in order to dress you quickly became overwhelming and, not having many other options, you closed your eyes, hoping maybe if you couldn’t see all the people working together to fasten your clothes around you, maybe you wouldn’t feel so overstimulated. Unfortunately, that didn’t help the way you hoped, the feeling of so many hands touching you at the same time too much for you to filter out in an effective way.

The hands touching you retreated after what felt like hours – though you knew logically it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes – but before you felt brave enough to open  your eyes now that you weren’t being crowded by strangers, a set of hands began to rake some sort of product through your hair, presumably to keep it out of your face. The rough touch was the final straw, everything now too much for you to bear even a second longer.

“Stop it!” you shrieked, shaking your head and pushing away the hands that tried to grab at you. “I said stop it! Right this second! Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice was shrill, significantly higher pitched than usual, and frantic to the point that you barely recognized it as your own voice. You felt yourself beginning to shake on top of it, but before you broke down in front of the servants, Satoru’s words from earlier echoed in your head.

You can throw a tantrum if they start to bother you. Always works for me.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really thrown any sort of fit, but if there was ever a time to really let yourself do such a thing, this was it. 

So you went for it. Leaned into the more theatrical parts of your current mood, keeping your voice loud and upset and contorting your expression into something demanding and angry, rather than distraught as you finally opened your eyes. “All of you get out of here! I don’t want to look at you right now. I want to see my friend.”

“Now listen here, Gojo-sama told us—”

“I don’t care what he said! If you don’t all leave and send Satoru in to see me, I’ll start breaking things.” You weren’t entirely certain where the words came from, but you couldn’t let your surprise show to the servants, or they would almost certainly call your bluff.

The servants all exchanged looks, most of their expressions rather unsure, until eventually the oldest servant gestured for everyone to leave the room. “I’ll make sure Gojo-dono is here as soon as possible to speak with you,” she told you, arching a brow at you the tiniest bit before she followed the others out of the room.

Once they were all gone, you practically deflated, all the fight leaving your body. What you really wanted to do was curl up in a corner and disappear, but you resisted the urge, instead walking over to the cushion Takara still sat on. Gently, you scooped her into your arms again, the simple feeling of her rib cage expanding and contracting with every breath she took serving to calm you a good deal. You weren’t entirely sure how long you stood there holding her when a rushed knock sounded at the door, and you turned in time to see Satoru stepping inside, barely remembering to shut the door behind himself in his hurry to get to you.

“You threatened to break things?” he asked, his eyes wide and a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you throwing a tantrum would work!”

Though you wanted to join in his enthusiasm, now that Satoru was here in front of you, it was taking every ounce of your self control not to burst into tears. He noticed the way your bottom lip began to tremble, and his expression quickly dropped from excited to concerned. He held his hands up somewhat helplessly between you, apparently unsure what to do to provide you comfort.

“Oh god, uh, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I was trying to be supportive, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Didn’t upset me,” you cut him off, blinking rapidly to try and stave off your tears as you returned Takara to her cushion. “Could I hug you?” you asked, turning back to him. “Or are our clothes too expensive for that?”

Your weak attempt at a joke seemed to go over his head as he pulled you close, expression serious. “Who gives a shit about our clothes?” he asked, arms wrapped tightly around you. Once you’d wrapped your arms around him in return, he began to rock you side to side ever so slightly, thought you weren’t sure he was even doing it on purpose; it was something you’d frequently seen him doing over the years, almost any time he had to stand still for more than a few seconds, though he’d stopped doing it as much as you all got older. The familiarity of the move made you oddly nostalgic, and you lost the battle against your tears.

“Are you okay?” Satoru eventually asked, after your tears had quieted down to sniffles. He didn’t move to release you from the hug, though, which you greatly appreciated. 

“I’ve been better,” you admitted. Separating from him slightly, you wiped the last few straggling tears from your cheeks and looked up at him – when had he gotten tall enough for you to have to look up? you wondered, though you kept the thought to yourself. “How do you do this all the time? Don’t you just want to explode from all the attention?”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, though his gaze was a bit unfocused as he considered your words. “I don’t think I notice all of this as much as you do,” he admitted eventually. “I’ve been putting up with all of this my whole life, so I’m just… used to it, I guess.” A soft sigh escaped him, and he gave a slight shrug. “I know that’s not really helpful, but it’s true. But you wanna know what else is true?”

“What?”

Satoru’s expression brightened a bit as he spoke. “Suguru and I are gonna be right by your side the whole celebration. We’re not gonna let anyone get too close, and if you want, we’ll sic Kenji and Niji on people so they leave us alone.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, sniffling and wiping your eyes once again. Though the promise to cause chaos on your behalf probably should have concerned you, it didn’t; you couldn’t feel anything but relief knowing that your friends would be there to stick up for you. “Thanks, ‘Toru.”

Dropping your hands from your face, it finally occurred to you that Satoru had come to see you all by himself. “Where is Kenji, anyways?” you asked curiously.

“He and Niji are being groomed for the event.”

“Groomed?”

“Yes.”

“How do you even groom a dragon?” You felt your brows furrow as you tried to imagine it; it’s not like dragons had fur that could be brushed, so you were having a bit of trouble imagining what else might be involved.

“I heard someone say something about giving them a bath,” Satoru said. “And then they’ll probably get their fluff trimmed up a bit and have their scales polished.”

“I’m sure Kenji’s thrilled about that,” you laughed, the mental image of the boisterous dragon being wrangled into a bathtub being exceptionally amusing to you.

This time Satoru laughed with you. “I’m sure I’ll have to spend days making it up to him with treats.” 

His words had you laughing again, though you were quickly cut off by the sound of your stomach growling, and embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry,” you apologized.

Satoru just frowned. “Did they not give you anything to eat?”

You shook your head. “No, they didn’t. I’m really hungry right now, though.”

He nodded slightly, then turned and walked over to the door. He poked his head out, having a brief conversation with someone that you could neither hear nor see, then closed the door and returned to your side. 

“Someone’s going to bring you something to eat,” he said simply.

“You didn’t have to do that, Satoru.”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you for a moment. “I’m not gonna let you starve all day just because my dad didn’t think about the fact that you need to eat.”

You found his words oddly endearing, with how much they showed he clearly cared about you, and you thanked him quietly. Not much else was said for a few moments, and then there was a soft knock on the door. The boy was quick to answer it, accepting a tray from whoever had knocked before turning away.

When you saw what was on the tray, your mouth started watering. There was a whole breakfast spread available to you – rice, miso soup, eggs, fruit – fresh tea, and even a few little chocolates on the side. Your stomach growled again, but this time you felt much less embarrassed about it. You waited until Satoru had set down the tray before launching yourself at the food, picking up the bowl of soup and bringing it to your lips, not even bothering with the spoon as you gulped down the broth. You only stopped when you heard your friend laugh softly.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a shake of his head. “Not trying to make fun of you or anything, I’ve just never seen you go at a meal like that before.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you reminded him, swallowing your mouthful and wiping away a stray drop of broth from your chin before it could touch your clothes. It wasn’t that late in the day, all things considered, but that didn’t change how hungry you really were. Knowing that eating too fast would only make you sick, you slowed down as you ate the rest of your food, occasionally offering small bites to Takara, who accepted exactly one bite of egg before refusing everything else.

As you ate, you and Satoru talked a bit more, not really discussing much of anything at all, but the conversation being a welcome distraction to what had overwhelmed you in the first place. Once you finally finished, you realized you felt much better about everything – or at the very least, you weren’t dreading what was to come as much. With a soft sigh, you glanced back over at the door; all the servants had left you alone, just as you’d asked – or demanded, rather – but you couldn’t imagine they’d gone very far from the room. “I should really let them finish getting me ready,” you said, if somewhat reluctantly. “I don’t want your father getting mad because I’m not cooperating.”

“Fuck my dad,” Satoru said. “Who cares what he thinks?”

You felt as if your eyes were going to pop out of your skull from the shock of hearing your friend say those words. “Satoru!” you exclaimed, looking around to make sure nobody else had heard him.

“What? It’s true!” he insisted, trying incredibly hard to hide his grin. “You’re the most important person in the settlement now – maybe even the whole world. Why do you care what my dad thinks anymore?”

Heat quickly spread across your face at his words. Your real answer of because he’s a grown up seemed a little silly when you thought about it the way Satoru had phrased it, so you just shrugged. Then, remembering his mother’s words from earlier that week, you replied, “Everyone is important, Satoru. Remember? And nobody is more important than anyone else.”

Now it was Satoru’s turn to get a little embarrassed, his face going red almost to the tips of his ears. You couldn’t help but notice how it made his eyes look even more blue than usual, though that thought had your own face burning even more. “Why do you always have to be right about stuff?” he groaned, burying his bright red face in his hands. He’d always been one for dramatics.

“‘Cause I know a lot of smart people.”

He peeked through his fingers at you. “Am I one of those smart people?”

“Hmm… Well, sometimes. Maybe,” you hummed, then giggled as he scowled at your teasing.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. As usual, he wasn’t very good at hiding his true feelings, and you could see that he was barely suppressing a smile as he looked over at you. “I’ll see you again in a bit, okay?” He took your hand as he spoke, though whether the move was intentional or not, you weren’t entirely sure.

“‘Kay,” you agreed softly. “Bye, Satoru.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then turned and made his way out of the room, back to wherever he’d been before you’d demanded to see him. Shortly afterwards, the servants came filing back into the room, though they looked more wary of you than they had before they’d left.

“Feeling any better?” the head servant woman asked, arching a brow at you.

“Yes,” you said, then added sheepishly, “and I apologize for my outburst earlier. I shouldn’t have screamed at all of you.”

The servants blinked at your words, exchanging looks of surprise; apparently they weren’t used to getting apologies for such behavior.

“All is forgiven,” the head servant assured you, her expression seeming to soften a bit as she looked down at you. “It’s a lot to process if you’re not used to it. We are nearly finished, though. I only need to take care of your hair while the other girls get your accessories sorted, and then we’ll be done.”

Her explanation helped you feel a bit more at ease, and you nodded, easily allowing yourself to be led back in front of the mirror. As the head servant woman went back to taking care of your hair – running her fingers through it and using some sort of product to keep it back and out of your face – the two other servants went through the green accessories that had been brought into the room, comparing them to Takara’s eyes, trying to find the ones that matched the best. Most of the items didn’t make the cut, but eventually they turned to you with a few things: a small sash belt – more for decorative purposes than to actually hold your outfit in place – and two bracelets that looked like they were strung with real emeralds, though you didn’t dare to ask; you didn’t want to know how much money was sitting around your wrists.

While one of the women fastened the belt around your waist, the other clasped the bracelets around your wrists, making sure they were tight enough not to slip off, but not so tight that they were uncomfortable. The head servant woman tilted your head up gently, making sure you were looking straight forward before she fasted a hairpiece in place. It looked like a cross between a crown and a headband, thin strands of gold, silver, and bronze woven together in a circlet, the metal so finely polished it glinted even when it wasn’t in direct light. It sat atop your head in such a way that it kept your hair from falling into your eyes, and though they weren’t visible, you watched as several pins were put in your hair to keep the headpiece in place.

You stepped a bit closer to the mirrors, examining your reflection with wide eyes. You’d been utterly transformed with just a bit of work from the servant woman, without any of them even putting any sort of makeup or anything on your face. For the first time in your life, you looked… regal; you looked like you belonged with people like Satoru’s family. The kimono you wore looked like liquid copper pouring over you, the fabric weightless on you and lending an almost inhuman fluidity to every one of your movements; it was far and away the most luxurious thing you’d ever had the privilege of wearing, and though part of your mind was fretting over not messing the outfit up, you were mostly just in awe of how you looked.

The servants allowed you a few moments to look over yourself in the mirror, then called you back so they could help you into your shoes; a pair of waraji sandals, though these ones were made with a sturdy wooden sole and brown leather straps, rather than the ones made of rope fiber that you saw many other people in the settlement wearing from day to day. Despite being made from wood, you found the shoes surprisingly comfortable. You weren’t sure how long the celebration event was going to last, but at the very least you wouldn’t be stuck in uncomfortable shoes the whole time. 

After a moment of consideration, the head servant woman turned to one of the vanities and picked up a few small tins of what you could only assume was makeup, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed; you’d hope you’d be able to avoid that. When she explained to you that all she was putting on you was a bit of tint to your brows and lashes, and a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, you relaxed again; at least you wouldn’t have to wear anything on your lips.

“All finished,” she said after a few moments, offering you what you were surprised to see was a small smile. “Now that you’re ready, I’ll take you to meet with the others. You may bring the cushion for your dragon, if you wish.”

You nodded at her words, scooping Takara up into your arms and, after a brief moment of hesitation, you grabbed the pillow, as well, tucking it under your arm as you hurried out of the room.

Though your nerves had settled a good deal after getting to see Satoru, they began to eat at you again, your anxiety gnawing at your stomach, squeezing your throat and quickening your pulse. The nearer you drew to the front doors of the house, the worse you felt, every step somehow making the hallway smaller and smaller around you. Each breath you took felt more difficult, not quite able to pull enough air into your lungs anymore. Faintly, you heard someone call your name, and though the voice was familiar, you couldn’t quite pinpoint who it was until they stood in front of you.

“Are you alright?” Suguru asked, his voice gentle and his face concerned. You blinked a few times as you looked up at him, though he said nothing else as he waited patiently for a response from you. 

“I…” you began lamely, then let out a sharp breath before trying again. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, I guess…” The unintentional confession slipped a bit too easily from your lips for your liking, but there was no taking the words back once they were out.

Suguru’s expression only softened at your words, and he offered you a small smile. “That’s understandable,” he assured you. “There’s a lot happening today. I think I’d be a little concerned if you weren’t overwhelmed. But it’s alright, we’re here with you.” He turned and looked over his shoulder then, and you followed his gaze to where Satoru stood with his parents, Kenji pacing beside him while Niji sat obediently beside where Suguru had been standing just a moment before. 

The sight of your best friend eased your fears even more, and it felt a bit easier to breathe when he smiled at you. You noticed then that his starlight hair had been slicked back from his face, but you already knew that he would be running his fingers through it to get it back to its usual fluffy state.

“Come on,” Suguru urged, pulling you from your thoughts. “The celebration is starting soon, we can’t have the guest of honor arrive late.” The faint hint of teasing that ran through his words got a smile out of you, and you followed him over to the rest of the group. For a brief moment, you worried that you would be expected to lead the way to the city center, but much to your relief, Gojo-sama informed you that you’d be taking up the rear, with Kenji and Niji on either side of you. Though you would have preferred to walk between your friends, rather than behind them, you said nothing, not wanting to risk invoking Gojo-sama’s anger right before you were presented to everyone in the settlement.

Before you could all turn to leave, though, Gojo-hime’s soft voice called out from down the hall. She walked quickly until she reached the group, smiling as she knelt down in front of you. “I’m glad I caught you before you left,” she said, taking you in for a moment. “You look lovely in these colors,” she added, fingers trailing down one of your sleeves lightly before meeting your eyes again. “I just wanted to come and say I know you’re going to be wonderful tonight. Being the center of attention can be scary, but you can do it.”

Her words had tears burning your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to try and keep them from falling. “Thank you, Gojo-hime,” you whispered, clearing your throat softly and looking away afterwards.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She pushed herself up from the floor then, standing slowly as she turned to your friends. “Satoru,” she murmured fondly, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can you promise you’ll behave this time?”

“I’ll try,” Satoru promised, his voice a little quieter than usual, and you weren’t surprised when you glanced at his face again and saw him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

That drew a soft laugh from the woman, and she brushed her knuckles lightly across his cheek. “I appreciate that,” she murmured, then turned her attention to your other friend. “Will you help keep him in line, Suguru?”

It was the raven haired boy’s turn to blush then, and he nodded. “Of course, Gojo-hime.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, seeming genuinely a bit relieved by the words. “All three of you try to have some fun together, alright? I’ll see you all later.” With that, she nodded to her husband and bid the rest of you farewell before making her way back down the hall. She hadn’t said why she wouldn’t be joining you for the celebration, but the way she pressed her fingers to her temples as she walked told you more than enough.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Gojo-sama turned and resumed his path to the front doors, pushing them open with a flourish and making his way down the walkway that led out of the estate and eventually right into the city, leaving you and the boys to scramble to catch up with him. Soon enough, though, you all fell into step behind him, four sets of wooden shoes clicking against the stones of the path nearly in sync; you were the shortest of the group, so you couldn’t quite match the rhythm of their steps without falling behind.

Your procession was slow, and while you were sure it was because Gojo-sama didn’t want to arrive at the celebration with even a single hair out of place, the longer it took to arrive and get the evening over with, the more anxious you became. In an effort to keep your mind occupied with something – anything – else, you focused on your friends, taking in their appearances for the first time since you’d reunited with them.

Satoru was wearing a white kimono, secured around the waist with a blue belt. It was simple, but paired with his hair and his eyes, it was striking. When he turned his head to steal a quick glimpse at you, he looked almost ethereal, despite the boyishness that still softened his features. Your eyes flitted away almost as soon as they met his, but you still noticed the way the corner of his lips turned up slightly as he turned away once again.

Apparently curious by what had caught Satoru’s attention – or possibly concerned about your current emotional state, or some combination of the two, you weren’t entirely sure which – Suguru glanced over his shoulder at you, as well. His features were still a bit soft with youth, but they’d always seemed more sophisticated to you, almost regal; he may not have been born with any noble blood in his family, but you wouldn’t know that just from looking at him. Dodging his gaze, too, you dropped your eyes, focusing instead on his outfit. The kimono he wore was black, though you noticed the tiniest hint of purple woven into the fabric when it caught the light just right; it seemed to form some sort of pattern, but you couldn’t quite make it out. The belt secured around his waist was yellow, and while out of context it was not a color you would have liked, knowing that it matched the shade of Niji’s eyes made it a bit more appealing.

Just then it occurred to you that all of you were dressed to match your dragons. You craned your neck to try and better see the colors Gojo-sama was wearing, but a large robe hid his outfit from your view. Maybe it’s just the three of us, you thought, once you’d given up on trying to see what Satoru’s father was wearing. Since Satoru and Suguru are the only ones with solid color dragons, and I’m the only one with a metallic dragon. Maybe we’re supposed to stand out more from everyone else. 

You continued to walk in silence behind everyone else for a few moments, when you suddenly realized something else: even if Gojo-sama was dressed to match his dragon, you wouldn’t have been able to tell; as far as you could remember, you’d never seen his dragon with him. The urge to tap Satoru on the shoulder and ask where his father’s dragon was was nearly overwhelming, but it lost to your common sense and your desire to avoid enraging the older man, especially before you were to be paraded around in front of everyone in the settlement. The curiosity still gnawed at you, though, and you resolved to ask your best friend about it later, when Gojo-sama was no longer in earshot.

Despite the slow pace, it wasn’t long until the sounds of music and people talking and laughing began to filter up from the city square. The sound was not unpleasant, but it made your situation really set in: you were about to be present to everyone who lived in the settlement. They were all going to stare at you, a lot of them were going to want to talk to you, and some of them might even try to touch Takara. Those thoughts spun around in your head, chasing each other in circles like Kenji and Niji often chased each other, and with every passing second you felt more and more consumed by the anxiety those thoughts filled you with. You were so caught up in those thoughts, in fact, that you didn’t even realize your friends had stopped walking until you ran into them.

Takara let out a squawk as she was briefly squished into your chest, the noise somewhere between offended and startled. You managed to hold her steady in your arms, though the pillow you’d been carrying slipped from beneath your arm. Suguru was quick to reach out and catch it before it could hit the ground, and for that you were thankful.

“Woah, hey, are you alright?” Satoru asked, placing a hand on your arm. His brows were furrowed with worry, and a frown tugged the corners of his lips down a bit. It wasn’t an expression you particularly liked on him, especially when you were the reason for it, but there was something reassuring about it in that moment; knowing he cared about you enough to feel such concern.

“I-I… uh…” you stammered, staring blankly up at him. The inside of your head was still so loud, so busy, that it drowned out your ability to do anything else. “I’m…”

You heard Suguru call your name, and you turned your head enough to look up at him, rather than Satoru. His expression was equally pinched, and you found that you didn’t like that, either; you hated knowing you were the cause of such worry for them, your two best friends in the world. “It’s okay,” he promised. “You’ll be okay. Can you take a deep breath?”

You tried to do as he asked, breathing in slowly, the air entering your lungs in a stutter, catching in your throat for reasons you didn’t understand. You were quick to exhale, much quicker than you had inhaled, and for some reason the act felt out of your control.

“Good, that was good,” Suguru encouraged, a small smile on his lip now, rather than a frown. “Can you try again? I’ll do it with you.” He waited until you nodded, then took a slow, deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, then slowly breathed out again. Matching him was still a bit tricky, but you managed well enough that you once again felt in control of your body.

“Feel better?” Satoru asked, once you seemed less tense and were breathing more steadily. He squeezed your arm lightly in reassurance, and you turned your attention back to him.

“A little,” you agreed. There were still nerves and a sense of unease lingering in the back of your mind, but they weren’t going anywhere any time soon, so you knew you’d just have to push through them for the evening. 

Satoru’s expression softened at your words, but before he could say anything further, his father turned around to see what had stopped the three of you in your tracks.

“Stop standing around,” Gojo-sama hissed, frowning deeply as he looked the three of you over. “We’re nearly there, now is not the time to drag your feet or start causing problems.”

“Apologies, Gojo-sama,” Suguru replied, bowing to the man as he spoke. “I just wanted to make sure they were feeling alright before we were in front of everyone.”

“Nonsense, they’re fine,” the man replied quickly, not even glancing at you; if he had, he would have seen that you were decidedly not fine, but you doubted he cared about that at all. “Now hurry up, I won’t have you embarrassing me or our family.”

“You shouldn’t speak so unkindly to them,” Satoru was quick to snap back, leveling his father with a harsh look.

Clearly taken aback by his son’s attitude, Gojo-sama simply stared at him for a moment. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said, you shouldn’t speak so unkindly to them,” Satoru repeated, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment before. “You’re being quite rude.”

“You would do well to remember your place, Satoru,” Gojo-sama warned, something almost cruel glinting in his cold blue eyes.

“And you would do well to remember yours. There’s a metallic dragon rider in your presence. Soon enough you won’t be the top authority in the settlement anymore.”

A chill ran down your spine at your friend’s words, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Suguru. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to speak, to intervene before the confrontation devolved into something even less pleasant. “Satoru, Gojo-sama,” you said, silently thanking whatever deity might be listening that your voice didn’t shake. “We have a celebration to get to. I don’t want to disappoint the people, and I would hate for all the hard work to make the celebration happen on such short notice go to waste. We should go.” 

Though your words rang with conviction, you couldn’t have believed them any less. You didn’t care if you left everyone in the settlement hanging, and you didn’t really care if Gojo-sama spent more money than you could ever dream of having on a celebration that didn’t accomplish what it was meant to. All you cared about was being with your friends, and with finally being able to go home with your parents when this was all over. It didn’t matter to you that those were selfish concerns and desires, and it didn’t matter that being selfish like that was childish; you were still a child, after all. Regardless of your actual feelings, though, you hoped that your words would be enough to convince at least Gojo-sama to be practical and follow the plan for the evening, rather than lay into his only son to put him in his place.

The Gojo clan patriarch narrowed his eyes at his son for a long moment, as if silently debating the merit of beating the attitude out of his child right then and there, before he straightened up once again. “You’re right,” he agreed, sparing you only a fleeting glance before turning his back to the three of you once again. “We have an event to attend and appearances to uphold. Everyone back in line.”

You heard Satoru muttering under his breath as he followed his father’s orders, getting back into his place in the procession, his back to you and Suguru to his right. The raven haired boy offered you one last comforting smile and passed Takara’s cushion back to you, then returned to his place, as well. Kenji and Niji, who had remained uncharacteristically motionless on either side of you this whole time, chuffed quietly at each other, then bumped your sides lightly with their heads. With that, all of you were off once again, the city square growing closer with every step.

In an effort to keep your mind occupied and prevent another spiral like before, you looked down at your hatchling, now settled on her cushion, rather than cradled against your chest. Nobody had said anything to you about the way you’d been carrying her, but it had seemed obvious to you that it would look better – and certainly more dramatic – if you arrived with Takara in full view of the people in the settlement, rather than having her lost in the folds of your kimono. 

For once, your dragon was fully awake and alert, sitting oh so perfectly in the middle of the cushion and looking around at everything around her, though she still ignored Kenji and Niji; you were starting to think she was doing it on purpose. After a moment, she tilted her head back to look up at you, her emerald eyes wide and twinkling in the dimming light. Whether she knew how important she was, or how big of a deal was about to be made of her existence was unclear to you, but you could tell she did know that whatever was happening was important, not something to be slept through. She chirped at you quietly, as if to tell you everything would be okay, and stared for a few moments longer before turning her gaze forward again.

You followed her lead, though when you lifted your head to look in front of you, you were more than a little shocked to realize you were right outside the city square. The music had stopped, and everyone had gone silent, watching your procession and parting to make way for Gojo-sama. Your nerves began to creep in again, tightening your throat and chest and amplifying every little noise around you. You forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead, rather than darting around at the crowd in some futile attempt to spot a familiar, comforting face, and you found that that helped curb your anxiety. 

At first, the only sounds that filled the air were your procession’s wooden shoes on the stone of the square and the soft tinkling sounds of the glass windchimes as a breeze passed through. You weren’t sure if you were thankful for the silence or unsettled by it, but once people noticed Takara, you wanted the silence back.

It wasn’t hard to figure out when your hatchling was spotted by people; whispers swept through the crowd like a river, everyone’s voices hushed, and yet still it nearly made your ears ring to hear so many people talking all at once, especially since it was you they were speaking about. You couldn’t make out any particular words, but you knew what they were all wondering: why here, why now, why you, of all people? Things had been peaceful for your entire life, and as far as anyone else was aware, there were no looming threats on the horizon, no reason for there to be a metallic dragon showing up so suddenly, much less bonding with a commoner like you when there were plenty of other children about your age from more important and respected families than yours.

Everyone is important in their own way, Gojo-hime’s words rang in your head. Everyone is equally important. None of us can do what we do without each other.

The reminder washed over you, clearing your mind of anxieties almost entirely; it didn’t matter if anyone else didn’t think you were important enough to be a metallic dragon’s rider, because they weren’t any more important than you were. And even if there was anyone that was more important than you, that didn’t matter, either. Takara was your dragon, and you were her rider, and there was nothing that could be done to change that, regardless of what anyone in any position of authority might have wanted.

Though it felt like an eternity had passed since you first stepped into the square, you eventually ascended the steps of the platform in the middle of the square. Satoru and Suguru stepped off to the side, Gojo-sama standing directly behind them. Knowing what was expected of you but nowhere near happy about it, you stepped forward until you stood in front of them, then turned to face the crowd. This time, you weren’t able to keep yourself from searching the crowd for someone – anyone – you recognized, whose face would hopefully bring you some level of comfort. Just before Gojo-sama began to speak, you spotted your parents, nearly as close to the platform as they could get. They both smiled at you, relief at being able to see you again written plainly across their faces. That same relief nearly overwhelmed you, and you had to blink rapidly to avoid bursting into tears right then and there; it would displease Satoru’s father, and you didn’t want the small amount of makeup the servants had put on you to run down your face.

“Friends and neighbors!” Gojo-sama called out. Despite the fact that your back was to him, you knew he was wearing a fake, if somewhat smug, smile as he spoke. “I apologize for not telling any of you what this celebration is for before this, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise! As you can all see, our settlement has once again been blessed with the presence of a metallic dragon. A metallic dragon has not been seen anywhere in the world since the last one was born here and bonded with one of my ancestors, over three hundred years ago.”

You felt the way his eyes landed on you before speaking again. “The dragon may not have bonded with someone born into the Gojo clan this time, but I assure you that my family will be taking a special interest in the care, training, and education of both the dragon and her rider. Whatever the reason for this dragon’s arrival, we will be well prepared.” Another hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, but Gojo-sama was quick to keep it from growing into complete unrest. “For now, though, let us celebrate! We are blessed to be in the presence of such a creature.”

The murmur quickly roared into a cheer, and the music was quick to begin playing again, loud and cheerful, a perfect fit for a celebration such as this one. Unsure of what you were or were not allowed to do, now that the announcement about Takara had been made, you glanced over your shoulder at Satoru, trying to catch his eye. When that failed, you turned the other direction in an attempt to catch Suguru’s eye, instead.

He didn’t look your way at first, but when he did, he offered you a small smile and a nod; even without words, his assurance did wonders for the anxieties that still plagued your mind. As best as you could, you glanced behind Suguru to Gojo-sama, then back to Suguru. You wanted to know if you were allowed to move, to leave the platform and enjoy the festivities that were happening, but you didn’t dare to turn around and ask.

Apparently catching your silent question, Suguru nodded again, then turned to Satoru and bumped him a bit. You turned back to face forward, then, not wanting it to be obvious that you were the one with the question to begin with. As you heard the boys shuffling a bit behind your back, you looked down at Takara; she still seemed more alert than usual, but far less interested in her surroundings than when you’d first stepped into the city square.

“Father,” came Satoru’s voice. “We’re going to find our friends and grab something to eat. We’ll be back.” The fact that he didn’t phrase it like a question, and didn’t ask if you could go with him and Suguru both thrilled and terrified you, especially since he had already butted heads so intensely on the way to the festival.

“The two of you may go,” Gojo-sama replied easily, “but be quick about it. They must stay here, however.”

Instantly, tears filled your eyes, and your shoulders sagged, the sadness from not being allowed to even try to find your friends much heavier than you could have anticipated. All of this had been planned and was happening in honor of you and your dragon, and you weren’t even allowed to participate. It was a crushing feeling to experience.

“Why?” Satoru snapped, the edge from before sharpening his voice once again. “This festival is for them, is it not?”

“They are the reason for the celebration, yes. That means they need to be visible to people, to remind them and inspire them. So your friend must remain here.” Somehow the Gojo patriarch maintained his cool, but you knew he couldn’t possibly be so relaxed about the attitude his son was giving him.

“Wouldn’t they be more visible and inspiring if they were allowed to walk around, to talk to people? Don’t you think people would be better reminded of the reason for all this if they got to see Takara a little closer?” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard your friend this worked up, but it made your stomach flip to know he was so willing to defend you against anything he perceived as unfair.

There was a long, tense silence, and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing, the urge not to draw any further attention to yourself winning out against everything else, if only for a few moments.

“…Very well,” Gojo-sama eventually conceded, though he still sounded a bit irked. “Don’t be gone too long, though. The dancing will begin as soon as the sun goes down.”

“Thank you, Gojo-sama,” you heard Suguru say, then felt a hand at your back, gently guiding you back towards the steps of the platform. “Come on,” he encouraged quietly. “I doubt he’ll change his mind, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You didn’t argue, not wanting to risk being called back to stand in front of everyone like a statue simply because Gojo-sama changed his mind. Chancing a glance over at Satoru as you all hurried down the steps and into the crowd, you saw his face was flushed with anger, his brows pinched together hard in the middle of his forehead; he was even more upset than you realized.

“‘Toru?” you called softly, trying to get his attention and hopefully pull him out of his negative thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nobody should get to take youth away from young people,” he replied. His tone had softened a bit, now that he was talking to you and not his father, but he didn’t seem any less upset. “Nobody, no matter what power they hold, should be allowed to do that. We’re still just kids, why the fuck can’t we act like it?”

Though you had heard your friend swear before, it still caught you off guard a bit when he did; you weren’t sure if it was because he swore rather infrequently, or because you were all still “too young” to be using language like that – according to the adults in your lines, anyways – or if it was something else entirely, but you supposed it didn’t really matter all that much, since your reaction was still the same every time. 

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

A long sigh escaped him then, both frustrated and weary. “My father,” he said after a moment, running his fingers through his hair to get it back to its fluff, perfectly messy state; the slicked back style had lasted longer than you expected, but you were glad he was undoing it now. “Expecting you to just… stand there like a decoration, or something, and not letting you even say hi to your friends or even get a snack, or anything like that. Not wanting to let you still be a kid, even though we’re not even teenagers yet. It’s stupid, and it’s not fair. I can’t let him do that, especially not to you, or us.”

A brief pause, then Suguru spoke. “You really shouldn’t use language like that, Satoru. It’s not polite.”

Satoru scowled at his friend, but he pointedly did not acknowledge his words. “What do you guys want to eat, anyway? I’m starving, and we need to eat something before we have to dance.”

“Dance?” you asked, pausing long enough to lift Takara from the pillow and drape her across the back of your neck so you wouldn’t have to worry about dropping her. The words really hit you just a few seconds later, and you remembered that Gojo-sama had said something about dancing, too, before you’d all hurried off. “What dance? What are you talking about?”

“It’s a traditional dance,” Satoru explained, looking around at the various food stalls as he walked, trying to find something he wanted. “When the sun goes down, they’ll light a bonfire, and a few of us will do a very fancy looking, very annoying dance until we’re almost sweating through our clothes, and then we’ll all go home because we’ll be too tired to participate in the festivities anymore.”

“…will I have to dance?” you asked after a moment, glancing over at Suguru somewhat nervously. Nobody had even mentioned a dance to you, much less bothered to teach it to you, but you couldn’t imagine that you would be allowed to abstain from the activity. 

Satoru paused then, turning back to face you, confusion plastered on his features. “Nobody said anything to you?”

You shook your head, swallowing thickly. Before you could get too caught up in your thoughts again, though, Suguru carefully took your free hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “You probably will have to dance, but Satoru and I will guide you through it.”

“It’s not hard,” Satoru added, and you could tell he was trying to hide his annoyance, but he wasn’t all that good at it.

“But you just said—”

“I said it looks fancy,” he interjected, his expression truly softening now. “But it’s not hard, I promise. If it was hard, I would tell you. Have I ever lied to you before?”

“No,” you conceded, then let out a shaking breath. He really hadn’t ever lied to you, and you couldn’t imagine that he would start now, not when it would lead to public humiliation for you. 

“Exactly. Now, come on. We really do need to eat something before we have to dance until our legs fall off.”

Ignoring all the festival attendees was easier than you expected, as you allowed yourself to be led to various food stalls. Kenji and Niji walked far enough away from the three of you to create a bit of a bubble, and nobody was able to get close enough to make you uncomfortable, which was a big relief. Though you’d originally said you didn’t have much of an appetite because of nerves, both boys insisted you needed to eat so you didn’t collapse during the dance. You decided to humor them, and once you started eating you realized you were famished, and you distantly realized it was probably because the only thing you’d had to eat that day was the snack Satoru had managed to get for you when he came to see you after you’d thrown a fit.

Before you knew it, you’d devoured a taiyaki with red bean filling, four takoyaki so hot you’d burned the roof of your mouth, and an onigiri with curry in the middle. After that, Suguru convinced you to take a break and get something to drink. “We really don’t want you getting sick,” he’d explained when you tried to argue. 

Just as you finished the tea that Satoru had gotten you, you noticed the lanterns being lit around the edges of the square, and your heart sank; it was almost time for you to perform a dance with your boys – a dance that you had never learned, at that – in front of the entire settlement, and you hadn’t so much as glimpsed any of your other friends.

“We should go,” Suguru said softly, taking your hand once again and leading you back towards the platform. Satoru quickly reached your other side, taking your other hand – you’d misplaced Takara’s cushion at some point, and though you were sure Gojo-sama would be less than pleased about that, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at that moment. You allowed your friends to lead you back to the platform without any sort of fuss, not having the energy to fight anything, even if you had wanted to fight them in the first place. When the three of you reached the platform steps, Satoru and Suguru released your hands, both of them turning to face you.

“Are you ready?” Suguru asked gently, tilting his head slightly. You knew he meant well and was just trying to check in on you, but the wording of his question felt a little silly; no, you weren't ready, and you never would be, but what choice did you have? You said none of that, though, giving a slight nod instead. 

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” you sighed, offering him your best smile in return, though you doubted it was very convincing. 

“You’re gonna want to put Takara down for this,” Satoru said, and you felt a small, sharp jolt of panic, that you realized afterwards wasn’t entirely your own; maybe your bond with Takara was going to take longer to get used to than you thought.

“Why?” you asked, a frown tugging at the corners of  your lips.

“There’s a lot of twirling and spinning. I don’t want her to fall, or to claw up your neck trying to hold on,” he explained, his expression nearly as soft as his snowy hair, and you felt your worry melt away nearly as quickly as it had hit you.

“Oh, okay. Uh…” you looked around for a moment, trying to figure out where to set your hatchling down; you were regretting misplacing the cushion now. “Where should I put her?”

“I’ll hold her for you, baby,” your mother said, and you turned to face her with wide eyes.

“Mom,” you sighed, breaking out into a grin before you could help it. You nearly threw yourself at her, and a small, shaky breath escaped you as she held you close. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise. And when this is all over, your father and I are going to take you home, okay?”

You nodded again, almost feeling as if you were going to cry again. You managed not to, though, and carefully lifted Takara from her place under the neck of your kimono. She chittered softly at you, but she quieted down quickly once she was in your mother’s arms.

Once you were sure Takara was taken care of, you turned back to your friends. “How does the dance go?” you asked, hoping your nerves didn’t bleed into your words too badly. You trusted Satoru when he told you the dance wasn’t hard, but you were still worried about making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

“It’s hard to explain,” Satoru replied, his head cocked slightly to the side; he looked like he was trying to think of a way to explain the dance to you, though unfortunately he seemed to be coming up dry.

“Satoru and I will go first,” Suguru said, stepping in while his friend seemed to struggle. “Just watch us for a bit, and one of us will bring you in when it’s a good time, okay?” His usual gentle smile softened his face as he spoke, and, just as it always did, it put you at ease.

“Okay,” you agreed, managing to offer a small smile back. 

Both boys nodded at you, then commanded their dragons to stay back as the two of them stepped into the space that had been cleared in front of the platform where fuel for a bonfire had been built up. Your friends stood next to each other on the side closest to you, and you watched as a few other people stepped out of the crowd to stand around the bonfire. You thought you recognized most of them as members of other well to do families from the settlement, though you didn’t know their names. They seemed to be about your age for the most part, a few of them maybe a year or two older, but it quickly became apparent that no adults would be involved in this dance. 

A hush settled over the crowd as Gojo-sama approached the pile of wood, a lit torch in his hand. He looked slowly around the square for a moment, expression unreadable, then said in a booming voice, “Now it is time for the new generation to honor those that have come before, and perform the traditional dance to welcome a metallic dragon.” He tossed the torch into the woodpile, the dry branches roaring to life almost instantly. The roar of the fire and the cheering of the crowd drowned out any other words the man might have spoken, so he simply gestured for the musicians to begin playing again before he stepped back onto the platform.

As the music began – a very different song than before, this one sounding old and promising and full of magic – Satoru and Suguru turned away from the fire to face each other, each of them offering the other a slight bow before they really began to dance. Their movements were elegant, nimble, and seemingly effortless, not a single breath out of place as they moved, spinning and winding and stepping away from each other before coming right back. You noticed quickly that it was really only a few movements repeated in about three different patterns, and for that you were thankful; at least once you got used to the movements things would go smoothly. Distantly, you realized that all the other dancers around the bonfire must have been dancing the same way, but you didn’t care about them, not when you couldn’t take your eyes off of your friends and the way they moved together as if they were born to do this dance together. Watching them dance was like watching Kenji and Niji fight; fluid, coordinated movements without needing to communicate, black and white in a natural push and pull that was nearly impossible to look away from.

It was unclear to you exactly how much time had passed since the dance had begun, your focus more on watching the boys and trying to get a sense of the dance you would soon be pulled into, but soon enough they split apart; Suguru turned to dance with one of the girls from the other families, and Satoru turned to you and held out his hand. Heart hammering in your chest, you were quick to take it, not wanting to cause a disruption in the flow of the dance. You stared up at Satoru with wide eyes then, the crackling of the fire louder now that you were up close with it.

Your best friend looked down at you with a smile, releasing your hand and taking a half step back. “You’ve got this,” he assured you, then offered you the same small bow he’d offered Suguru before. You managed to return it, then jumped into the dance itself. You’d never been the most graceful person, but you felt especially clumsy trying to do the dance with no practice. Though you knew it wouldn’t do your balance any favors, you kept looking down at your feet, trying to make sure you had all the steps right. A set of waraji sandals entered your view – wooden-soled just like yours, but with white leather straps rather than brown – and a familiar voice called your name.

“Don’t look down,” Satoru encouraged, and when you lifted your head, you saw he was still smiling at you. “Look at me. It’s just us right now, yeah? It’s just you and me. You can do this.” He spoke with such conviction that you couldn’t help but believe him, and you nodded, smiling back at him.

“I can do this,” you agreed. The steps came easier to you after that, and you kept your eyes locked on your best friend as you danced, spinning and winding around him just as Suguru had, though your moves were a bit less polished.

Just when you felt you were really getting into the rhythm of the music and finding your stride, Satoru spoke again. “We’re about to be finished,” he explained in a low voice, only for you to hear. “You’ll be dancing with Suguru next. When it’s time to switch, I’ll tell you to turn around, and he’ll be waiting for you.”

All you could give in response was a nod, feeling a bit more out of breath than your friend, who still hadn’t even broken a sweat, as far as you could tell. It was only a few moments later that you heard a slight shift in the music, and Satoru told you to turn around before doing so himself. You did as you were told, turning around to become Suguru’s partner.

The dark haired boy smiled at you when you were facing each other again, and you blinked in surprise when you saw his hair. It was pulled back from his face in a bun, like he usually wore it now that it was getting longer, but all the dancing and spinning had caused a small, slightly shorter section in the front to fall down in front of his eyes.

“Your hair looks nice like that,” you panted, not even thinking about the words before you said them aloud. Once you realized what you’d said, you felt your cheeks burn a bit more than they already were.

Suguru seemed a bit surprised by your words, but not upset, if his smile was anything to go by. “You think so?” he asked, as the two of you exchanged bows. “Maybe I’ll wear it like this on purpose now. It never wants to stay put, anyways.”

A small laugh tumbled from your lips at his words, but it was all you could manage before beginning to dance again. Now that you were more familiar with the steps and how they flowed together, you were able to loosen up a bit, and worry less about whether you were going to accidentally step on Suguru’s feet – something you did, in fact, wind up doing, but he waved off.

“I still have my toes,” he teased softly, and you chanced a quick look down to make sure he wasn’t lying about not being hurt. Sure enough, his feet were fine, his own sandals still held securely in place by their black leather straps. Once that little hiccup was out of the way, though, you felt much better. 

By the time you were passed back to Satoru, you were much more comfortable, smiling more easily despite how breathless you felt. You danced until you felt certain your legs were going to collapse beneath you, and until you began to feel a bit dizzy from how much spinning around you were doing. Just before you were going to have to step out of the dance, though, the music crescendoed before ending with a flourish, and you nearly wept with relief. The gathered crowd broke out into cheers and applause again, and at the same moment, your best friends both threw themselves at you to wrap you up in a hug. You laughed and hugged them back as best you could for a few long moments, only pulling away when you heard your mother call your name.

“It’s time to go home,” she told you gently. “It’s getting very late, and you need to rest.”

You nodded at her words, knowing she was right and longing for your own bed back at home, but you were reluctant to part from the boys; you’d spent every waking moment and then some with them for over a week, and you didn’t know how you were going to be able to sleep without them in the same room with you.

Sensing your hesitation, Satoru squeezed you tighter. “Go home,” he murmured. “We’ll see you soon. You’ll be attending lessons and training with us now, remember?”

“Get some sleep,” Suguru agreed, also holding you a bit closer. “I’m sure Satoru will drag me into town tomorrow to cause problems.”

“I’ll wait until after breakfast,” Satoru promised, and you all laughed softly. 

“Bye,” you whispered, finally releasing them from your hold. They whispered it back, waving as you walked back to your parents. You gladly accepted Takara back from your mother, smiling as she bumped her head against your cheek before draping herself around your neck once again. 

Your parents kept you close as they picked out a path through the crowd, somehow managing to get you out of the square without anyone trying to stop you to talk or to ask to see your dragon. Having Spark around to growl at people is nice, sometimes, you thought to yourself. Once you were away from the brightly lit city square and the heat brought by the bonfire and the crowd, you found yourself yawning and shivering as you walked, the faint breeze quickly chilling the sweat on your skin.

“Your bed is ready for you when we get home,” your father promised, and you nodded, thanking him softly and leaning against him slightly as you walked. It wasn’t too far to your house, thankfully, and your parents quickly ushered you inside. You stumbled a bit on your way to your bedroom, and you didn’t even dream of protesting as your mother followed you, being quick but careful as she helped you out of your kimono, folding the material and placing it on your dresser, then setting each of the accessories you wore on top of it: first the belt, then the bracelets, then the headpiece. She helped you out of your sandals, then placed them by the door. You weren’t sure why she was being so careful with everything, but you were too tired to ask. 

Giving you a moment to pull on something else to sleep in, your mother stepped into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a damp cloth. She knelt in front of you, her touch gentle as she wiped the remains of your makeup from your face, though you were fairly certain you had already sweat most of it off. Eventually she deemed you clean enough, and you yawned, rubbing your eyes; you couldn’t remember the last time you were so tired.

At some point while helping you undress, your mother had placed Takara on your pillow, and she had fallen asleep waiting for you. Gently, you lifted her from her spot, holding her in one arm as you crawled beneath your blankets for the night. You looked up at your parents as they walked to your bedside, and you smiled as they took turns leaning down to kiss you on the forehead and tell you goodnight. You mumbled back an almost unintelligible “goodnight,” sleep quickly overtaking you now that you were in comfortable clothes and in your own bed for the first time in so long. Tomorrow was the first day of your new life, but for now, you were glad to be home.

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