#I'm not at all thinking about how far the bottom can drop out from under Suvi

[chillinglikeashilling]

I'm so happy that we've seen Suvi's ability to adapt and solve problems grow so much over the current campaign.

I'm hesitant to use sports terms I'm barely familiar with when talking about a character played by Aabria (THEE DnD Jock as far as I'm concerned) but I think that Suvi has been developing her court vision ever since Arc 1.

I think the experiences in Port Talon really showed Suvi how much she had to be aware of not only herself but also all the other players. What are her teammates doing, what are their opponents thinking, what's the weak point in her team's strategy and how can she cover it?

The wall won't hold? Direct the stranglers through a single entry point into Port Talon.

Gramore will insta kill anything that flees? Order a retreat, change the perception of what's happening, sidestep the rule.

We're in a forest of sorcerer's and shapeshifters? Bring in Ame and Eursolon

And the Secret of Warp and Weft is so thematically tied to that skill. Find the weakness in an object, understand how to apply the least amount of force for the most amount of damage.

Locate the problem, understand the problem, get the right tool and fix the problem.

Suvi is always learning and adapting, and it really kicks off because of that first arc and Galani.

(Oh god thinking back to Galani I start to feel crazy about Aabria and Brennan's skill in weaving and calling back to all these elements.)

Galani is a wake up call to Suvi. Suvi understands for the first time, because of Galani, how much Steel's name and influence have protected her from certain social consequences in a way other people aren't protected (a lesson that gets driven home in Arc 2 by Hana).

Galani is also the first time in the story we encounter the Sky used as a mirror in the narrative, and specifically as a way to extend Suvi's vision and awareness.

And she's part of the scene that I would argue sets off the very first spark of what becomes the Secret of Warp and Weft in Arc 3. When Suvi starts to draw Orima's forces through that weak point in the wall, the first thing Galani does it make the opening bigger. Draw the pressure away from the rest of the wall faster by widening a single point of entry.

I don't have a cohesive way to end this but I just really love it.

I think it's great and I'm only gnawing on my arm a little bit about it.

[vivelegalite]

dear dead boy detective (especially paynland) enjoyers: have you yet heard of the biggest gift bestowed upon the fandom so far, aka jayden's charles playlist? the one he mentioned in interviews? well, he dropped it on twitter at 19th of may. and man, do i have stuff to say about it.

there's a lot of 80's bangers, for sure, great to get into the mood and character, but some of the choices...

i'm gonna focus on a few of my favourites, songs that made me go insane when i saw them. honorable mentions: - category 1 (so devoted the lines blur): ain't no mountain high enough by marvin gaye and tammi terrell, there is a light that never goes out by the smiths, inkpot gods by the amazing devil - category 2 (family life): family line and summer child by conan gray, seventeen going under by sam fender, matilda by harry styles, father by the front bottoms - category 3 (being queer in the 80s): smalltown boy by bronski beat, boys don't cry by the cure - category 4 (there's no heterosexual explanation for this one): good luck, babe! by chappel roan, yellow by coldplay, fight or flight by conan gray (is this about monty? the cat king? i need answers!), the prophecy by taylor swift, arms tonite by mother mother, sweet by cigarettes after sex, head over heels by tears for fears

this list is by no means complete or comprehensive!

and now, the songs that made me go the craziest: (they're predominantly in charles' pov as it's his playlist)

found heaven by conan gray

the only reason this song made it into the list and not the honorable mentions instead of smalltown boy is that it makes almost the same point, just so much more explicitly. i don't think i have to say much about it, it's a story of a young person griping with their queerness, being forced to leave home, a common theme of the playlist. "you're in love, you found heaven" when he chose edwin over his own afterlife, heavily implied to be heaven, and built his heaven with him on the mortal plane? ouch! (and we see this same notion repeated in another bop from the playlist, heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle).

2. like real people do by hozier

"i miss kissing" charles rowland, 202X romantic meaning aside, the verses show a sort of a common understanding the boys have around the manner of their deaths and their lives before it. we already know from the show they don't really talk about it, with edwin not knowing about the severity of the abuse charles suffered. it feels like one of them saying "let the past be past, we're together now, yeah?". but also, jayden: can there ever be a platonic explanation for this? ghosts can't touch, can't feel, so they wish they could just kiss like "real" (alive?) people do?

3. flaws by bastille

not the most romantic song, but i absolutely love how well it fits their dynamic. despite his edwardian brand of repression, edwin truly is the one that's more open about his feelings (recognising of course that in this case, the bar is so low it's in hell. haha, get it). edwin has worn his flaws upon his sleeve, and charles has held them buried - eg. bottling up all of his anger and resentment towards his family and his own death. the song presents a very sweet outlook, in which their flaws are brought up to the surface (for example, charles' outburst against the night nurse in episode 4), but they learn to accept them as they are, an extension of themselves.

4. a pearl by mitski

you know it's gonna get intense if there's a mitski song in the mix.

the song is about a person who finds love in their partner, someone who treats them way better than they've ever been treated - and yet they cannot bring themselves to reciprocate the affection ("it's not that i don't want you, sorry i can't take your touch") despite reciprocating the feelings themselves because of the trauma. charles is known to bottle things up ("you're growing tired of me and all the things i don't talk about"). the person in the song recognises the love the other person holds for them ("you love me so hard and i still can't sleep"), which reminds me of charles' response to edwin's confession. not a "no", but a "maybe, as time passes".

5. fair by the amazing devil

this one made me genuinely gasp when i first delved into the lyrics. it's simply so sweet, such a genuine and domestic portrayal of love. at first i thought it was way too open about being a love song (normal text instead of the subtext i'd be used to) for jayden to choose it with edwin in mind, but... there's no one else it can really be about. it's far too domestic, too "established" to refer to crystal. refers to a relationship that's laster for a longer while.

the narrator in the first verse is a person deeply in love with the other person, someone who loves to make his lover laugh and simply drinks in their presence. the "he" in the song i believe is charles, while the "she" refers to edwin. edwin promises to fight off anyone - or any feelings pulling charles down (we can see this in the first episode: "you ever think... what if death did catch us? she'd force us to go to the afterlife and split up" "i will make sure this never happens."). charles feels left behind by the world (seeing as he clings to crystal at first, refering to her as "someone their age who's still alive") and believes edwin to be so much stronger than he's ever been. i'm not going to break down the song verse by verse, but if you read it yourself while subbing out "he" for charles and "she" for edwin you'll see just how sweet (and... strangely very in character?) the song is.

6. work song by hozier

if the previous song made me gasp when i saw the lyrics, this one made me go "NO WAY" out loud when i saw the title. the first one verse is just pure toothrotting sweetness, but the chorus is what i want to draw attention to:

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold, dark earth no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

HELLO? charles, who keeps escaping death and afterlife to be able to stay with edwin? charles, as he literally takes his last breath with edwin right there, choosing to be by his side rather than move on? charles, who keeps choosing him despite night nurse's promises and threats? charles, who literally crawled through hell for him?

verse 2, to me, can be interpreted as referring to when charles died. edwin found him at his worst, and he "woke" up with his presence comforting him. he was shivering due to hypothermia and his injuries. edwin didn't ask him about what happened or pushed him, he simply listened. the lines "i didn't care much how long i lived, but I swear, i thought i dreamed her" are pretty self explanatory.

in verse 3 we still see the same attitude of "damn the afterlife, at least we have each other" as charles portrays througout the series. they're free, and heaven and hell are simply words to him.

7. orpheus by vincent lima

i literally have no words for this one. it fits too well. if you want commentary for this one, just... i don't know, rewatch the staircase scene.

8. francesca by hozier

(cracks knuckles) this is the big one. the album francesca is from, unreal unearth, is based on dante alighieri's divine comedy, a fourteenth century poem about a man venturing into hell, purgatory and eventually heaven. the eponymous francesca is one francesca di rimini, a woman who was politically married off to a man older than her, called giovanni malatesta. francesca didn't love him, and eventually fell deep in love with giovanni's younger brother, paolo. the two carried on with the affair for years, before being murdered by giovanni upon his finding out. francesca and paolo are mentioned in canto v of the first book, inferno, as two souls damned in the second circle of hell, lust. their punishment is to be permanently locked in a hurricane, swept away by the winds the moment they manage to get close enough to touch one another.

as opposed to their portrayal in the poem, the song is from the perspective of paolo, explaining that no matter the punishment, he wouldn't change anything about his life because he got to know, and love, francesca.

the first verse brings to mind the scenes in hell, especially on the staircase ("do you think I'd give up? that this might've shook the love from me? or that I was on the brink? how could you think, darlin', i'd scare so easily?" as an echo of charles' "sorry. no version of this where i didn't come get you"). "my life was a storm since i was born, how could i fear any hurricane?" could relate to charles' tumultuous family life, an assurance that nothing he has to deal with while by edwin's side will faze him given the things he's lived through. no, despite everything he's suffered through, charles wouldn't do anything differently - because his (admittedly shitty) life led him to edwin ("i'd tell them, put me back in"). we already know charles would choose him over heaven, willingly sacrificing his own afterlife to stay with a boy he's known for hours, someone kind enough to keep him company as he drew his final breath. all of it - his father's abuse, his schoolmates' bigotry, the pain of his own death, as well as everything he's gone through since - he'd do it all again, for edwin.

"for all that was said of where we'd end up at the end of it" could be taken as an allusion to the fate the boys would meet at "at the end of it", when they're finally caught by death and separated, or as more of a general "if you sin, you will go to hell when you die" (up to you to decide what the sin itself would be - an interpretation that would work with other songs on the playlist is that one such sin would be same sex attraction). then their hearts ceased, they never knew "peace", nor did they want to find it in death. their deaths were too soon, them being ripped away from life, but even though it would break his heart: charles would ask to do it all again.

the outro, i think, beautifully pulls it all together: heaven is not fit to house a love like theirs.

to wrap it all up:

jayden, what were you cooking in there? what do you know??

[pickingupmymercedes]

Rocket - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Rocket - Beyoncé

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut

wordcount: +3k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

Nothing says vacation quite like a long bath—hot, bubbly, and quiet enough to make me forget just how close I was to a burn out barely 5 days ago.

I sink down a little further into the tub, letting the water glide over my shoulders, and close my eyes, letting myself drift.

And that’s when I hear the door creak open.

“Didn’t mean to distract you” he says, though I can hear in his voice he’s anything but sorry.

I open one eye, and there he is, leaning against the doorframe with his usual easy smile. He’s fresh from the beach, beads of water still clinging to his skin, his trunks hanging low on his hips, as if he planned this pose just to watch me stare him down.

“Well, if it isn’t Sir Hamilton himself” I tease, stretching my arms along the rim of the tub. “Come to see if I’ve fallen asleep in here?”

He grins, taking a step inside and closing the distance. “Didn’t seem right, you here all by yourself.”

“Really considerate of you” I reply, lifting my chin. “Or maybe you just wanted a peek?”

“Can you blame me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he walks closer, setting his hands on the edge of the tub, eyes dropping to take in the curve of my body beneath the bubbles.

And I’m suddenly very aware of how little separates us. He’s watching me with that familiar look, the one that says he’s happy to wait, but he’ll enjoy every second of making me squirm until then.

I could pretend I don’t know what I’m doing as I lean back, letting the bubbles slide down a little, just enough to tease him. “Well,” I murmur, “it’s not a bad view, I guess. If I were in your position, I’d want a closer look too.”

He chuckles, reaching for the bottom of his trunks as if that’s all the invitation he needs. I watch, fully expecting him to pull me out of the tub and straight to the bedroom. But instead, he lets his trunks fall to the floor, slips into the tub, and positions himself right behind me.

He’s got that effect, that way of changing the game in an instant, flipping my plans like they’re nothing.

And it works. His legs brush along mine as he settles in, his hands finding my shoulders, thumbs digging in gently as he starts to massage. It’s slow, almost tender, like he’s savoring every touch.

“So,” he says, his voice low and close to my ear, “what have you been up to today?”

I laugh, letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. “Relaxing. Isn’t that why you dragged me all the way to this island for? No internet, no communication…”

His hands slide down a little, fingers tracing the line of my collarbone before finding their way back to my shoulders. “And here I thought it was so we could spend time together.”

“Mm, maybe both” I say, tilting my head to look up at him. He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, smell the salt from the ocean still lingering on him.

There’s a glint in his eyes, that playful, cocky look that gets me every time. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“What about you?” I ask, arching a brow. “How many waves did Miles got pulled under?”

“Let’s not talk about that, love.” His fingers drift lower, thumbs brushing over the tops of my shoulders, lingering just long enough to make my heart race.

“You really think I’m just gonna sit here and let you touch me like that?” I say, shifting a little to get comfortable.

The moment I move, though, I feel it—him, already hard against my back. And it’s my turn to grin, the kind of grin that tells him he’s not getting out of here easily.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” I asks, and there’s that edge of impatience in his breathing that always sends a thrill down my spine.

Although, it does sound more like he’s holding back just enough to see how far I’ll push him.

“Not uncomfortable” her murmurs, shifting just a little more, letting his hand rest casually on my thigh.

I bite my lip, feigning innocence as I let my hand drift upward, fingers brushing his skin in a way that I know drives him crazy.

His grip tightens on my waist, and I can feel his breath hitch, just for a second. That’s all I need to know he’s on the edge of giving in. “You know” he says, his voice a little lower, a little rougher, “I’m a patient man.”

“Sometimes, patience is overrated, though” I reply, smirking as I lean back into him.

His hands roam over my arms, fingers brushing the line of my neck, and I can feel every muscle in my body start to respond. He’s right there, right where I want him, and I know he’s not going to stop until he’s got me exactly how he wants me.

And honestly? I’m not about to stop him. Because I know the game I started, and focusing on feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my back, it’s all I can do not to melt right here.

I glance up and catch his reflection in the mirror across the room. His gaze is focused, darker than before, as if he’s mentally three steps ahead, yet he’s holding himself back—barely.

His fingers hover along my waist, a teasing line that just hints at where he wants to go, but he’s waiting, giving me this bit of power, letting me set the pace.

So, I had to push him.

Slowly, I take his hand and guide it up, trailing over my body until his fingers cup my breast under the warm water. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips as I feel his breath stutter against the back of my neck.

“I can see you want to touch me” I murmur, pressing his hand to me as if to make it clear there’s no going back now.

His fingers tighten just enough to make my breath catch, and I feel him lean forward, his lips grazing my shoulder. “You’re making it hard to be patient, you know that?”

“Yeah” I purr, my voice deliberately soft. “That’s kind of the point.”

I reach for his other hand, guiding it lower this time, my fingers slipping down to where my own slickness has already gathered, spreading it back to coat his fingers.

I feel his intake of breath, and my pulse quickens, feeling his fingers find the slickness between my folds, slow and testing at first, his movements restrained but eager. The heat pooling in my core starts to simmer, and breathing is all I can do to keep my as he starts to move.

The rhythm he finds is perfect, intense but controlled.

My hand stays over his, feeling the taut muscles in his fingers, the way his palm fits just right, the roughened pads of his fingers exactly where I want them to be.

And every time he circles back to my clit, I can’t help but shiver, threatening to tip over into that blissful chaos he’s so good at bringing out of me.

It’s addictive, the way he works his fingers, the way he feels so attuned to every response I give.

The tension in my body coils tighter, my heart and pussy pounding as he keeps up that relentless pace, like he’s daring me to let go right here, right now.

My grip on his arm tightens as I arch back, the pleasure building, building, building until I manage to stop him.

“Slow it down,” I whisper, turning my head so I can brush my lips against his jaw. “We’ve got time.”

He lets out a quiet groan, his breathing heavy in my ear, but he listens, slowing his movements.

His fingers drag lazily now, tracing circles over my clit, gentle yet maddeningly precise, and it’s almost worse than before.

I let myself melt into him, my hands still resting over his, feeling every movement as he builds me up in slow, patient waves.

My hand keeps holding his in place as he teases, taking his time, and every gentle flick, every carefully controlled stroke sends another shudder of heat through me, each one deeper than the last.

I can feel him shifting slightly, pressing closer, his chest rising and falling against my back. It’s as if he’s pacing himself just to make me squirm, and it’s working.

The ache inside me intensifies, and it’s almost painful, just on the edge, waiting for that last push. But just as I feel myself about to tip over, his fingers stop, hovering right on the brink, leaving me in this impossible, maddening state of suspension.

I let out a breath, almost a whimper, my body tense with the need he’s left lingering. “Lewis…”

But he doesn’t move, not right away. Instead, his mouth grazes my ear, his voice low and rough. “Patience, remember?”

I shift up just a little, feeling his hands steady on my hips as I adjust, fighting for balance in the cramped space. The tub is small enough that our legs are all tangled, with his legs pressing against mine as I climb on his laps, but somehow, it just adds to the anticipation.

When my hand finds his dick under the water, I can feel how hard he already is. It makes me chuckle, a soft sound that escapes before I can stop it.

“What’s funny, love?” His voice is rough, low, almost daring me as his hands sooth the skin on my waist and lower back.

I glance back at him over my shoulder, and with a smirk, I say, “How controlled you’re trying to look” My fingers wrap around his hard dick, guiding him to press against me, feeling his resolve hanging by a thread. “You’re already rock-hard, baby.”

He groans, deep and guttural, his fingers digging into my skin just a little harder. And before I know it, his hips surge up, just enough to press the head of him against me, not quite inside but enough to make me feel that first, tantalizing stretch.

I fall silent, my breath catching in my throat, the heat of him poised right there. It’s maddening, almost torturous, the way he stops right there, leaving me on edge and hungry for more.

“Now you’re quiet,” he murmurs against my shoulder, lips brushing my skin, and the teasing edge in his voice is unmistakable.

But then he eases his hips back down, his hands shifting from my hips to my waist, and I can feel his grip firm as he starts to guide me down over him, inch by slow, delicious inch.

My breath hitches as I feel him filling me, stretching me, for real this time.

I can barely keep my thoughts straight. He’s deliberate with every movement, steady but unrelenting, and I can’t hold back the soft moan that slips out, echoing around the tiled walls of the bathroom.

The air feels thick, charged with heat and moist, and each second feels like forever as he continues to press me down, his grip grounding me while his dick fills me completely.

My core pulses as he finally bottoms out, his hips flush against mine. I rest there, feeling my muscles tighten and adjust around him, breathless and a little overwhelmed.

And when I can hear over my own heartbeat and the water on the tub, I hear him—a quiet, breathy whimper, one that tells me everything.

He’s just as undone as I am, his fingers pressing into my skin with a reverence that makes my heart start pounding again.

He leans forward, his mouth finding my shoulder, leaving soft, lingering kisses against my damp skin as every movement feels electric, each slow rise and fall of my hips dragging waves of pleasure.

I keep the rhythm as steady as I can, alternating between rolling my hips and sinking back down on him, savoring the way his breaths grow heavier, matching mine. His hands grip my waist, grounding me, and I let myself indulge in each controlled, teasing motion.

But the need thrumming in my core is impossible to ignore, and I can’t resist reaching back to guide him deeper, pressing my shoulders back against his chest to feel him fully.

The new angle pulls a long, unrestrained moan from me, one that fills the room. I’m not quiet; I don’t even try to be at this point.

I feel his lips curl into a smirk against my shoulder as he holds me close, his fingers brushing my skin with just enough pressure to make my body tighten where it feels like he’s imprinting his digits.

He groans, taking in the way my back arches for him, accommodating his every inch. “Love seeing you like this,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “All mine.”

I lean my head back onto his shoulder, giving him a knowing smile as I let my hips move slowly, every stroke drawing out longer than the last, savoring his restraint. “Enjoying the view?”

“More than you know” he murmurs, but his hands leave my waist, slipping up to my collarbone, and he pulls me back until I’m flush against his chest, completely open to him.

The shift presses him deeper again, and I gasp, my body trembling as he pokes just at the right spot, the one that has my toes curling.

My hands find his, and I guide one of them up to rest against my neck, fingers tracing along the side of my throat.

He’s amused, and I can feel the chuckle rumbling through him as he tightens his grip just slightly, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin below my jaw. “Full of kinks today, are we?”

I just smile, knowing that’s all the invitation he needs. His hand tightens a little more, just enough to cut off my breath, leaving me lightheaded and buzzing, every nerve heightened.

I can’t help how my body responds instantly, hips rolling back to meet his with, and he doesn’t hold back.

His other arm snakes around my waist, and he starts thrusting up, each movement harder and deeper, our combined rhythm spilling water over the tub’s edge in splashes we’re both ignoring.

“Can you feel how badly I want you?” he murmurs, his voice hot against my ear. His thrusts are relentless now, each one dragging its own moan from me.

My body arches into him, completely surrendering, and I meet him with equal force, the need coiling tight and ready to snap. He laughs low in my ear, thrusting harder. “Let me feel you, love. Let go.”

And I let him take over, his pace quickening as he moves inside me with a precision that has me clutching onto his forearms for balance.

The pressure around my neck heightens every sensation, my senses flooded by him, his touch, his voice, the steady, unyielding rhythm he’s set. And then, as I lose myself in the pleasure, the edge finally comes closer drawing me deeper until I’m lost to him, wrapped up in his hands, his heat, his control.

His hand slips from my throat, settling against my collarbone with a gentle brush, his thumb tracing soothing circles, grounding me as my body clenches around him.

His other hand moves down to my clit, flicking and teasing, coaxing wave after wave of sensation that has me moaning, helplessly leaning into his touch.

My body becomes numb to anything but him, balanced between his hands and the edge of my own undoing.

When my eyes finally meet his, I see the flicker of triumph there, and before I can fully settle back, he lifts me up, rising effortlessly with me. He turns me to face him, and I just follow his lead, still hazy from the high.

He presses me sited on the edge of the tub, my back resting against the wall, and leans in, capturing my lips in a deep, unhurried kiss that leaves me breathless. I feel his still rock-hard boner brush against me, teasing my swollen clit and my entrance, and it’s almost too much, too soon.

Then his hand slips down, lifting my leg up and pulling it around his waist, holding me open as he kisses me deeply. His mouth is warm, his tongue grazing mine as he holds me steady, and I’m sure he’s going to push into me again, finally, and give me more of the fullness I’m always craving.

But instead, he breaks the kiss, looking at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes, one that promises more than I can prepare for.

And I can even react. He’s kneeling down, his fingers gripping my hips, and then he’s right there, his mouth on me, his tongue dragging along my folds with a leisurely savor.

I gasp, one hand flying to his head, clutching his damp curls as my body jerks from the oversensitivity. “Lewis, you’re– I–” My words are jumbled, barely coherent, but he just chuckles, a dark, knowing sound that vibrates against my skin.

I’m trying to pull away, but his grip on my hips is unyielding, keeping me locked in place as he devours me like I’m some forbidden treat.

His tongue flicks and swirls over my clit, leaving me trembling against his hands. He works me over with an infuriating slowness, each lick and gentle suck deliberate and unrushed.

“Too much” I manage, voice cracking as he chuckles again, ignoring my plea.

He lifts his gaze, eyes bright with a kind of wicked satisfaction, before finally pressing a kiss to my thigh and rising to meet me again.

His mouth finds mine, capturing me in a searing kiss that makes me forget every other thought but him. The taste of myself on his lips is intoxicating, and when he finally pushes into me again, I’m a mess of tangled limbs and sharp breaths, overcome by him in every way.

His hands keep my legs open as he thrusts slowly, purposefully, drawing every sensation to the surface, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmurs, “Tell me you feel how much I need you”

Each word fans the flames of my oversensitivity, and I can’t help the quiet whimpers that escape. I’m lost in him, my hands clinging to his shoulders, my entire body surrendering to his touch, every word and movement building a maddening pace.

It’s like the world outside the two of us has completely faded. Each thrust, each deep groan that slips past his lips, is as sharp and electric as the first. The way he fills me, the way he knows exactly where to press, makes me wonder if I’ll ever catch my breath again, if I can even tell where he ends and I begin.

Time slips away, but I’m vaguely aware that the sun has dipped lower, casting a warm, golden glow that filters through the bathroom, wrapping us in its embrace.

It feels like we’ve only been here for moments, but my body knows better, knows by the way my muscles burn, by the way he’s starting to lose control, his breathing heavier, his moans deepening, rough and unrestrained.

His breath is warm and ragged on my neck, his hands gripping me like he can’t hold back any longer.

And he manages to pull out just in time, spilling over my stomach, his forehead coming to rest against my shoulder as his breathing slows, each breath matched with the last flickers of sensation that hum through me.

I slide my fingers up, raking lightly through the roots of his curls as he recovers, just barely catching his breath.

The weight of him, warm and spent, against me is something I’ll never tire of. He’s still leaning on me, a little dazed, when I break the silence with a teasing, “How much you need me, huh?”

He just chuckles, low and soft, and raises his head to look at me, that familiar sparkle back in his eyes. “Don’t remember you being this sassy minutes ago”

I grin, pulling him closer, letting my lips brush against his. “Well” I murmur between us, voice still a little breathless “If it means anything, I could never get enough of you”

His lips capture mine again, slow and tender this time, the kind of kiss that feels as unhurried as the sunset outside. A reminder, as if we needed one, that no matter how many times we’ve lost ourselves in each other, it’ll never be enough.

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[bunnys-kisses]

This is my first time ever submitting an ask on tumblr but i didnt realize u also wrote for Fernando !!! i have kinda a big order tho so mb ToT. can i please get persian roll and swiss roll with a side of naked and famous and champagne? served Fernando Alonso :))

bakery menu!!

want to submit your order? hit up the menu! there are many things on the menu and i would love to see what you come up with! these orders have been so fun to do, so thank you to everyone who has submitted them! <3 (also don't worry about it being a bigger order, i love doing this as well!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you." + naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by fernando alonso (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, bimbo/ditzy!reader, mean!fernando, age gap (20s/40s), dirty talk & degrading language, fingering, doggy style, rough sex, orgasm denial

"daddy!" you chirped as you came through the front door of fernando's large house in spain. your heels clicked against the tiled floor and you did a full turn to find him, "daddy! where are you!" you perked up when you saw him emerge from the kitchen. he was drying his hands on a dish towel.

his smile dropped when he saw the bags in your hand. the names on them were expensive. he grew a little curious, "how did you pay for those, princess?" he asked you with his eyebrows raised. you didn't have a job, you hadn't had one for almost two years. and with the amount the appeared to be in those bags, your allowance didn't pay for that either.

you dipped your head a little and said, "i don't know daddy." and softly put the bags down and clasped your hands behind your back. your glossed bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

dumb little girl. stupid, idiotic little girl. you wouldn't learn your lesson until your ass cheeks were bruised till they were purple and you were wearing the collar that fernando bought for you when you misbehaved. there was a little weight to the item to remind you who you belonged to.

he groped your ass while you laid out on his lap. your ass was properly bruised as you whined against him. you were a pretty, whorish display for him. his grip was tight as he said, "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

you moved a little, 'daddy, please." you wanted to bury your head under the covers. to hear his rough voice in your head left you heated all over. he could so easily get under your skin, he could push and pull you into any position he needed you in. that was the power of a sugar daddy in that kind of arrangement. fernando, regardless, held over power over you. and it always made you pant heavily in a heated passion that made your cunt clench around him.

he liked you like this, submissive against him. while he'd give you the world, there were rules you had to follow. he touched your ass a little more as he said, "i know you cannot think, princess. there are so thoughts in that head of yours. but, what did i say about not taking daddy's credit card? you have to behave, angel."

you squirmed a little, "i'm sorry, daddy." you tried to pull away from him, but you weren't getting far. you clung to the sheets under you, your ass was a whorish display. he sank his fingers inside of you for a moment and you moaned loudly, "daddy i'm sorry!!!" and arched your back slightly, which fernando liked quite a bit.

"i bet you are." he said. his fingers felt so good in you as he rubbed against some of your more sensitive areas which made your toes curl, "but i know you'll do it again. because you are a bad girl, always a bad girl for me." his voice was low and it made you squirm a little more.

your cunt took his digits so well, your back arched so pretty and fernando continued to finger fuck you. he just kept you on the edge of orgasm, not helping you got over the hill with it. he teased you and you whined as you tried to get some friction from his rough jeans.

"no. no, princess. it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." he said as he refused to let you orgasm, this was all part of the punishment. it didn't take long before you ended up off of his fingers and on your face in the pillows with our hips in the air. you pretty pussy on display for him.

fernando got his clothes off and ended back on the bed with you. he licked his fingers clean of your wetness before he got up behind you on the bed. his cock was at full attention and the head was leaky with pre-cum. he wanted you, he wanted you badly. even when you misbehaved and caused him headaches. he wanted to finish inside that pretty cunt and bully his cum as deep as he could get you.

when he got himself inside of you, your back was arched and you clung to the pillows. your noises got loud and pathetic. you tried to beg, "i'm sorry, daddy" and hiked your hips up a little further.

"i know you are. i know you want me to forgive your little incident. but i think i may have grown too soft with you, angel. being too nice.' he said as he rutted against you. he could feel the flash of heat in his body, he pushed your head into the pillows and picked up the pace. he bullied your sweet cunt and your noises were greatly muffled, "you've become a spoiled little slut. you enjoy getting into trouble." he moved against you harder and you were moaning loudly.

"please, daddy." your back arched more as you yearned for him greatly. he just thought you were to die for, beyond beautiful laid out under him. if he flashed enough bills in your face or slipped you his credit card, you'd happily do anything he asked. he had you bound in a way that there was little to escape from him.

he continued to fuck you with a feverish pace and was spurred on by your hot and heavy moans. he watched you whine and claw at the covers like a wild animal. you were insatiable at times. you yearned for cock deeply and who was fernando to deny you that. but he was going to deny you the sweet release you craved.

only good girls got to cum.

he pace was brutal and you felt the rush of pleasure through you. you panted wildly and felt the inferno of lust in you. you were fernando alonso's stupid little princess and you wore that title with pride. you were proud to be his, even if you had bubblegum for a brain. but that was alright, that was what fernando was there for. to make sure his angel was cared for.

"are you not going to take my credit card anymore? you're going to be a good girl for me? not cause me problems? i'd hate to have to leash you. keep you close to me so you don't cause problems." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

you shook your head against the pillows, "no daddy, i'm sorry daddy." your voice was strained as you felt close to your climax. but fernando finished before you, he shoved his entire length into your sweet cunt and made you toes curl at the feeling.

"that's what i like to here, angel. you sound so pretty when you beg for me. maybe you do have it in you to be a good girl for me." his thrusts were rough and it made your heart feel in your throat. he fucked you with a fury that left you feel even dumber.

"daddy."

with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. marking your pretty little pussy. he loved when he shoved it in as deep as it would go. leave a little reminder of him in you. he groaned harshly, "so pretty under me. such a little fucking whore." his words were biting and it only turned you on more. but before you could finish. he pulled out and pinched your clit. "no." and you whined more.

"daddy!" your voice was tight.

you whined and fernando said, "if you want to finish, you for once have to work for it. now get up on daddy's thigh." <3

[archangeldyke-all]

Reader who's been hired as more muscle for the gang? Maybe Sev is a bit jealous and/or is mean to reader, but the reader plays this off by flirting/teasing Sev. And ends up topping her.

Jfdjhggj I need more bottom Sev in my life lmao

bottom sevika is the loml actually

men and minors dni

you cannot, for the fucking life of you, figure out why sevika hates you so much.

you've been working for silco for about six months now, and it's been great. the best job of your life. sure, you're constantly committing crimes and dodging punches, but silco pays well, you get unlimited drinks at the last drop, and you've found a great group of friends in all his other goons.

well, all of the goons except sevika. she despises you, and you've got no fucking idea why. you've been nothing but pleasant and respectful toward her, but lately your patience is starting to wear thin.

"everyone was great at the dropoff today, boss. ran saved us half an hour with some quick thinking and knife skills, and deckard was surprisingly accurate with his math."

"that's what i like to hear. any issues?" silco asks from his desk, where he's puffing on a cigar. your stomach sinks-- you know what's coming.

sevika's silver eyes flick over to you, a small smirk on her lips while she speaks. "the fuckin' rookie forgot to fill the van with gas." she says.

you scowl and scoff. "i did not! that was your fucking assignment-- i was in charge of driving!"

sevika's smirk turns into a grin-- it seems like the only thing she likes more than bothering you is when you fight back. "are you seriously speaking to your superior in that tone right now?" she asks.

"my 'superior'?! as far as i'm aware you're just the bitch at work who makes my life fucking miserable."

all the air gets sucked out of the room, and behind you ran mutters something under their breath. "wrong move, rookie."

sevika's sneering at you, and you get exactly one second of warning before she's grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and is dragging you out of the office, a series of 'oooooh's following behind you.

"oh, great, now she's gonna fuckin' kill me before i can even get paid for today's work." you mutter to yourself as sevika drags you to her office, slamming the door shut behind her. she shoves you against the wall hard, and you grunt. "fuck! what is your fucking problem!?" you shout, shoving at sevika's shoulders. she barely budges.

"you talk too much for your own fuckin' good, y'know." she growls.

you sneer up at her. "and you'd be a lot more attractive if you learned to play nice."

sevika freezes, her anger melting into a shocked expression. you giggle a little-- it looks like you've finally found a way to fight back with sevika-- flirting. "sh-shut up." she mutters eventually. you snort.

"what's wrong, sev, got you tongue tied? that's all it takes, huh? a little compliment and you lose all that bite?" you tease.

sevika doesn't get angry like you expect her to, though. instead, she gulps, and her eyes get wide. you burst into giggles and sevika blinks, her shoulders hunching up. "shut the fuck up." she tries to sound scary, but her voice is too shaky for it to work.

"oh, shit!" you laugh. sevika hunches in on herself even more. "holy shit! you've got a crush on me!" you cackle, pointing an accusing finger at sevika. you watch in fascination as a blush creeps all the way up her neck to the tip of her ears.

"n-no i don't." she tries to deny. you're still reeling from your discovery, giddy and flabbergasted.

"you totally do! holy shit how did i not realize this before!? you're an emotionally constipated shithead, of course you don't know how to flirt! you probably didn't even realize, did you? just wanted to tug my pigtails and get my attention somehow huh?" sevika blinks at you owlishly-- more surprised than you've ever seen her before. you snort. "everything makes sense now." you chuckle to yourself.

"f-fuck off." sevika mutters eventually. you cackle and smack her on the shoulder.

"i've got you all worked out, hah! monday's gonna be a breeze." you laugh to yourself as you make to leave. sevika reaches out and spins you back around before you can open the door fully. you raise an eyebrow at her. "yes?"

sevika looks flustered and confused and slightly scared of you. you giggle a bit as you watch her try and fail to come up with anything to say, before rolling your eyes and giving her a little help.

"figure out a nicer way to flirt with me and you might be surprised, sev. until then, leave me the fuck alone unless you want me telling the gang why you've been picking on me so much." you say, then turn to leave again.

this time you make it halfway out the room before sevika's pulling you back in the room, slamming the door shut and shoving you against the wall again. for one horrible second you worry that you've read the whole situation wrong and you've only managed to enrage sevika even more with the suggestion that she might like you-- especially when sevika's hand wraps around your throat-- but then she freezes and takes a shaky breath. her fingers unwrap from your neck, slowly trailing up to cup your face.

"shut up." sevika whispers at what must be the cockiest, pleasantly surprised smile on your face. you just snort.

"make me." you demand.

sevika swoops forward to kiss you, and you giggle against her lips.

she's like putty in your hands, letting you guide her hands up and down your body, moaning against your lips. when you sink a hand into her hair, she shivers, and you manage to flip the two of you so you're pressing her against the door.

sevika's panting and staring at you with stars in her eyes. you snort at the sight-- endlessly intrigued with her now that you've figured her out. "oh, you're sweet aren't you?" you tease.

sevika tries to glare at you, but it falls flat with her eyes blown so wide they're black and her hands desperately clutching at your hips. "no, i'm not." she denies. you giggle and lean forward to start sucking a hickey against her throat-- the idea of sevika wearing your bite on her throat in front of the gang tomorrow making you dizzy.

"you are." you say. "bet you're fuckin' soaked for me, too, aren't you?"

sevika whimpers. you have to kiss her again to keep from laughing at her. she's pathetic. it's so fucking hot.

sevika grabs your hand and tries to shove it down her pants. you laugh, pulling away from her and grabbing her chin-- forcing her to look at you. "sevika, take a breath, babe." you request. she moans at the petname, and you laugh. "fuck, you're cute."

"fuck off!" sevika growls. you snort.

"i need you to use your words before i can take care of you, honey."

sevika shivers, her voice shaky as she speaks. "fuck... please fuck me."

you raise an eyebrow at her, and sevika actually stomps her foot. you laugh. "and why should i?" you ask.

sevika sputters, then cringes. you watch her mentally debate whether or not she's horny enough to communicate-- and you're surprised when she takes a deep breath, rolls her eyes, and then speaks. "b-because... because i've got a stupid fuckin' crush on you, okay!?" she shouts.

you grin and lean forward, kissing her cheek. "okay." you say simply, shoving your hand down the front of her pants and boxers. sevika whimpers, leaning forward to bury her face against your shoulder as you gasp. "oh, baby-- you're soaked." you coo.

she bites your shoulder. "would you just-- shut the fuck --ah!" she gasps at you sink two fingers inside her. "f-f-f-fuck!" she whines. you laugh.

"you better shut up or everyone's gonna know what's goin' on in here." you tease. sevika whimpers, and leans back-- shoving a fist in her mouth. you snort and lean forward, nudging her hand out of the way with your face. "move that. i got a better way to shut you up."

sevika's hand wraps around you, clawing at your back as you start to kiss her. it's uncoordinated and sloppy-- both of you too focused on her cunt to care much about your lips-- and it's the hottest kiss of your life. especially because sevika keeps whimpering into your mouth.

you manage to muffle most of her moans and groans, but when she cums, sevika leans back and shouts. "oh, oh, oh fuck!"

you giggle against her throat-- there's no explaining that away-- but you think sevika might've done it on purpose. you have a sneaking suspicion that sevika's going to be a possessive lover if the way she's clinging to you as she catches her breath is any clue. you don't mind.

"you're a fucking mess." you tease. sevika grunts and pinches your ass.

"shut up."

"that's rich coming from you. think the walls shook with how loud you were squealing."

"shut up!" sevika growls. you laugh.

"you don't scare me, baby. 'specially not when your cunt's still squeezing my fingers." you say, wiggling said fingers just a bit. sevika growls and bites your shoulder again, and you giggle. "are you gonna go back to bein' a bitch to me now or have we moved past that?" you ask.

sevika huffs and picks her head up, peeking up at you with puppy eyes. "i'm... sorry." she mutters. you smirk, raising an eyebrow at her, and sevika groans and straightens up. "i am!" she whines. "i just-- y'know." she says, waving her hand at you. you giggle.

"i do know." you say, nodding. "you're a mess."

sevika huffs. "yeah, basically."

"it's okay, sev. you're a hot mess." you tease. she snorts.

"i can't believe i like you." she groans. you just laugh. sevika huffs and you pull your hand out of her pants and straighten her out a bit. you make to leave and sevika squeaks. "wait!" you pause in the doorway, and sevika gulps, cringes, and groans. "fuck. fuck! fuck, i don't... just-- what're you doing tonight?" she asks.

something inside you flutters and you shrug. "you tell me."

sevika smiles a bit, her eyes darting away from you as she reaches up to rub the back of her neck. "...i won a shitload of money in cards last night... i could take us up to the promenade?" she asks. you grin.

"pullin' out all the stops, huh?" you ask. she shrugs.

"'s an apology."

"i like it. you've got yourself a date, sev."

sevika grins.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death Part 4 - End

Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

Epilogue

Finally, after weeks under intensive medical care, she was cleared to go home. Her recovery was far from over. Lena didn't look forward to the intense physical and occupational therapy in store, but at least she could rest in a more comfortable space. Have a bit more freedom.

Alex had insisted on taking her home, though Kara had walked with them until she received a Supergirl call. Lena understood now why Kara randomly took off, and with that understanding came a slow acceptance.

The door swung open at the press of her thumb against the keypad. Alex pushed her wheelchair, and shut the door with her foot behind them. They made it almost to the sofa when the shouts erupted around them.

"Surprise!"

Lena nearly fell out of her chair at the sudden noise. People leaped out from behind the sofa, tumbled out of the kitchen, and poured in from the hallway. They were all there: Kara, Brainy, Nia, J'onn, Kelly, and even Sam and Ruby.

"Welcome home!" Alex said with a grin, meaning she was in on this too.

Lena had no idea what to make of this. She'd never had a surprise... anything before in her life. "Um, thanks?"

Ruby nearly bounded into Lena's lap with her fervent hug. "I'm so glad you're home! We were so worried when we found out." She pulled back with a teary smile. "You gotta stop almost dying on us. Because we need you here, you're family, and Mom and I sort of just got here today, so all I have is this card." She handed it over and put her hands behind her back.

Lena opened it to the words, "We love you. Please try not to die again. Or we'll drag your sorry ass back to the world of the living." The asterisk after 'ass' had a note at the bottom that read, "Ruby was allowed this one curseword in honor of you."

Lena smiled and ran her fingers over the handwriting, some of it Ruby's and some Sam. Why they bothered, she didn't know, considering how she'd ghosted them. She took a deep breath to try to stop the urge to cry. "Thank you, Ruby. I love you both too."

Sam walked up behind her daughter and smiled, her eyes glistening. "Kid has a point." She leaned forward and gave her a half hug, planting a kiss on the side of her head. "I'm glad to see you up. We've been so worried."

She handed Lena what looked like a phone at first glance, until she saw the hinge. Opening it revealed a note that read: "Answer your phone! <3 xxxoo Sam." Under it was one of her guilty pleasures, a very specific hard candy only sold in Ireland.

"Sam..." Lena didn't know what to say. She wiped away tears, frustrated with herself. Since her near death and disablement, she'd become a weepy fool. "Thank you. I'll be better about staying in touch. I promise."

As the others moved forward, one at a time to greet her and welcome her home, Lena found herself smiling and dissolving into tears yet again. She wasn't used to this much care, and it still felt unreal. Like the shoe could drop at any moment, and yet it didn't.

Alex had continued to care for her, Kara and the others had continued to visit, and now that Lena was cleared to rest at home? Here they all were being the sappiest people she'd ever met.

"Make sure you kiss your beefcake," Nia whispered as she dropped a box of chocolates on Lena's lap. "She set this up, and I kind of have money on the line, so give a girl some help?"

Lena laughed, but she couldn't stop herself from sneaking a look at Kara who stood, swaying back and forth on her heels, as she waited impatiently. "Sure, Nia."

Alex gave her a backpack of all things. "Hey, don't give me that look," the director said with a cluck of her tongue. "Think of all the science-y things you can stuff in this thing and loop onto your wheelchair. Nothing will stop you now."

She lightly swatted Alex's arm. "Maybe if I was five, but really, thank you." At least the bag was black, so it matched the chair's coloration.

Kelly's gift was perhaps the most useful. A tool to grab things from afar. Lena immediately snapped it in Alex's direction, who danced out of reach with a scowl. "It's perfect," she said with a grin.

"I know you have a long recovery in store," Brainy said with a bow of his head. "But I will give you access to my favorite..." he glanced at Nia, "... toys as Nia calls them." He held out a small, palm-sized square. "Press your thumb and a holographic interface, encrypted for our communication and projects, will appear."

Lena couldn't resist. She pressed her thumb, and the interface swirled around her, filled with all sorts of delicious programs. "Holy shit, Brainy. Thank you. This is a delight." She pressed her thumb again, and it vanished.

J'onn stepped forward and bowed his head. "I wish to apologize for my actions in not bringing you in sooner. You've always been one of the best of us, and so I offer you the aid of my community. We have had many soldiers wounded in battle, and I will gladly aid in your recovery. So that you may find the mobility that fits your needs."

Lena studied the stoic man and thought back to something Kara had said to her. "You're a good swordfighter?" When he nodded, she smiled. "I was nearly an Olympic fencer. That's my goal. To recover enough to challenge you to a duel."

He bowed to her. "I accept."

Kara came last, of course. "Hey you." She knelt and wrapped Lena in a tight hug. Lena leaned her head against Kara's shoulder and breathed in her usual vanilla scent.

The pain hadn't full healed between them, but they were taking little steps. And with each one, Lena settled into the reality that Kara wasn't some omnipotent do-no-wrong-god, but a trauma-filled, messy alien who feared loss almost as much as Lena did.

That's one thing the past few weeks in Alex's medical ward taught her: perfection didn't exist, and that's okay. It was okay to be imperfect. She'd still be loved for who she was, even despite her sometimes bratty, petty nature.

Kara pulled back and kissed Lena's forehead. "I made this." She handed her a cylinder with lines and dots on all sides. "It's a puzzle box like what my father made. Give you something to do as you heal."

"Kara," she leaned her head against Kara's shoulder. "God, I love you so much," she whispered. "Thank you."

"I love you too." Kara carded her fingers through her hair. Lena gladly took the brief moment to recalibrate herself for more people interaction. Alex's words hovered in her head, "I need you to recognize your limits."

She took stock of her pain, her emotional bandwidth, and decided she could handle an hour. Then she'll ask to go to the bedroom. Plan in place, she pulled back from Kara with a smile.

She blinked away her tears. "Thanks to all of you. Now, I'd like to sit down on the sofa, if you don't mind?"

Kara chuckled and gently scooped Lena into a bridal carry. Her face flushed, likely as pink as her own. "As you wish, milady."

Alex groaned at that while Nia cackled.

Settled on the sofa, Lena leaned back into the cushions in relief. Fatigue plagued her still, and the pain simmered despite the pain meds. Still, she was much improved than a week ago. This ordeal had taught her that even small steps were worthy victories.

"So you ready for cake? Because all welcome home parties need cake." Kara practically hopped from foot to foot.

"Sure, Supergirl," Lena drawled. "Better fly me the best."

"Oh, you betcha. Straight from Belgium." Kara sounded quite proud of herself.

"Kara..." Alex pressed her palm against her face.

"Supergirl?" Sam echoed, her eyebrows raised.

"Wait a second," Kelly looked around, surprised. "Kara is Supergirl???"

Well, it was nice to know she wasn't the last one told after all.

***

Six months later

Lena gripped the bars, most of her weight on her arms. Her legs trembled beneath her, her right foot turned slightly to the left. Kara stood at the other end of the torture session with a grin. "Come on, Lena, you can do this."

"Oh shut up." Lena growled, but there was no heat in her words, only a deep affection. She carefully took a step, and her leg held. A tingling sizzled up her leg muscles, but she didn't crumple. Slowly, she lifted and plopped her other foot down. That one proved weaker than the other, so she leaned into the bars more.

"Remember to breathe." Her physical therapist stood behind her ready to catch if she fell.

She took a deep breath and managed another step. The rhythm of walking felt strange, like a foreign language she'd forgotten after months of using a wheelchair.

Since the attack, she'd kept a low profile. Sam returned as temporary CEO, and Alex proved to be just as protective of her as she was of Kara. Nia's article of the attack won the public's favor for Lena, which had been a nice, short boost for L-Corp.

So she slowly made her way down the bars, each step mores stable than the last. Her muscles screamed at the effort, but she pushed forward, determined.

Kara, as always, lived up to her promise and stayed at her side. Assisted her lab work. Accepted with grace the occasional microscope she threw at her head. Since becoming an independent writer and science consultant, Kara spent more and more time at her penthouse, and it had started to fill up with knickknacks, paintings by Kara, Kara's clothes randomly strewn over chairs, and a kitchen full of enough food for a hungry Kryptonian.

Lena knew she wasn't always the best partner. Sometimes Kara and her fought bitterly, but they'd learned to come together and talk it out. To share space for one another's feelings. To tentatively explore what being together really looked like.

All a step at a time.

Her trek reached the end of the bars, and there Kara stood, her arms out stretched.

"You did it! I told you so," Kara said with a delighted laugh.

Lena leaned forward and let herself fall into Kara's embrace. She looked up and smiled at her lovable dork. "I suppose I owe you that ice cream, my love," she said, wryly.

Kara nodded and brushed her nose against Lena's. "You sure do."

Lena placed her hand on Kara's cheek and kissed her lips. As she pulled back, she smiled at the goofy dazed expression Kara always wore when Lena sneaked a kiss.

"I'll make it two, for being such a good motivator." Behind her the physical therapist cleared her throat. Lena chuckled and for the first time in her life, she actually felt happy.

She'd cheated death yet again and won a girlfriend from it. Quite the bargain when all was said and done.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Holiday - BTS OT7 CEO AU Bonus Chapter 14.5

Sorry for being MIA my loves, life for the moment has calmed slightly, who knows what it has in store tomorow. Just a note, I'm no longer doing taglists as theyre too hard to keep up with and I am trying to avoid stress. Sorry about that I hope this goofy chapter makes up for it <3

4.6K words of the italy trip with the troublesome trio. Warnings: Smut, jealousy, sex implied as a weapon (for revenge), edging, possesive behavior, orgasm denial, money (yes this is a warning it made me swoon)

Prev / Next

THURSDAY

Seven hours into the flight was when what you dreaded happened. The private jet had wifi, and a part of you thought you were going to be safe from the older CEOs if they couldn’t reach you with your mobile on airplane mode, but when it rings thousands of miles in the air, your heart drops. The maknaes eyes all dart to the ringing device in your hand, as you contemplate answering it, but before you can make a decision, it's snatched from your hold. 

“Good evening Hyung,” Taehyung answers smugly. You try reaching for it but he keeps it out of reach.

“Put it on speaker,” Jimin whispers, pressing his ear to the otherside of the phone while Jungkook holds you back from fighting them for it. 

You don’t know what’s said on the other line but Taehyung’s eyes pierce through you, an almost villainous look on his face. 

“We came to flower’s favourite place,” the smirk on his face is dangerous and you knew he wasn’t thinking clearly about the repercussions by taunting them. 

“Tae,” you say warningly, holding your hand out for the phone, not that you would fare better with talking to them. 

“We’d be waiting for you for a while Hyung,” he snickers cruelly, not a side of him you saw very often at all, but when there was a vendetta or score involved, it didn’t matter who it was up against, Taehyung would betray his own flesh and blood for revenge. 

Okay, maybe that was a little far-fetched even in your own mind, but you remember the company sports day, the first and last, where your seemingly innocent boyfriend betrayed Jimin, his closest bestest friend/soulmate, to win, and no one saw it coming. There was a major fall out before everyone started betraying each other in the subsequent races and Namjoon decided that never again would the company have another competing event. The moral of the story? Never underestimate Kim Taehyung. 

“We’ve decided to go on an impromptu holiday for the weekend.”

The grin on his face at whatever is said on the other line is nothing short of evil. He was going to get you killed with this, now you understood why the idiom was about being thrown under the bus, this felt like a damn car crash and you hadn’t even arrived at your destination. Maybe when you landed you could just fly back and apologise. 

“Have a good weekend Hyung.”

He ends the call and passes you back your phone as if he hadn’t just declared world war three! Jungkook finally lets you go and stretches in the aisle, laughing with the other two while you bite your bottom lip nervously. They wouldn’t blame you if you said the maknaes had kidnapped you, would they?

Your phone rings in your hand again, this time with Yoongi’s caller ID, you quickly answer it before they notice, not even able to say hello before an angry voice greets you. 

“Y/n where the fuck have they taken you?” Yoongi growls through the line.

“We’ve… I’ve,” you swallow down your nerves, “Italy…?”

You say it like a question that answers everything, but you really didn’t know how else to respond. 

​​"Kitten, you just agreed to these brats? You didn't think to tell us first?"

“Yoongi,” you whine, “please don’t be mad, it’s just… they just-”

Your phone flies out of your hand, you were too focused on the call to notice the troublesome trio caught on. 

“What-” you gasp, not realising straight away what had happened. “Jungkook! That’s my phone, give it back!”

But he doesn’t, even as you fight him for it. Instead he looks at you like he’s berating you for ruining their masterplans, holding it way above your head as you jump for it, trying to pull his arm down.

“I think we should hold onto this for a little while, bunny,” he says sternly, “you obviously can’t be trusted.”

“Jeon Jungkook give me back my phone,” you scowl.

“Nope,” his lips pop.

“Angel, the whole point in this revenge plot is to deny the Hyungs access to you, we can’t have you calling them, it defeats the point,” Jimin lectures you as if you were dense which only makes you scowl more.

“Oh they’ll have access,” Taehyung smirks, the evil glint in his eyes still present and unsatiated. “But only when we want them to.”

FRIDAY

Arriving at the apartment yesterday (if you could call it that it was more like a villa), quelled your worry over the others, it was too beautiful to think of anything else. When Taehyung told you they bought it, it took a while for your jaw to come off the ground. How they had done it in such a short amount of time you would never know, but the happy way they showed you around, holding you, soft kisses as you smiled, made you completely forget about the purpose of this visit, until of course they woke you up before the sunrise with needy kisses. 

“It’s too early,” you whine incoherently, but somehow they understood you.

“Blame Mr mastermind,” Jimin yawns, although the way Jungkook’s undressing you has his bottom half stirring the rest of him awake. 

“It has to be now if we want our gift to arrive on time,” Taehyung chuckles deeply, something akin to what you imagine a classic maniacal tv villain to sound like. 

“Oh yes,” you scoff, “I forgot I’m just a means for revenge.” You always got caught in the middle of their rivalry, you just didn’t expect it to sting so much this time around, like you were being used. You try to go back to sleep, having had enough of this ridiculous childish behaviour, but Taehyung pulls you up by your arm until you're sitting upright in front of him. 

“Our love for you flower,” he mumbles, pushing your hair out of your face, searching your face earnestly, reading your insecurities like a book, “and our punishment for the hyungs are two very separate matters…”

Something ice cool touches your neck, making you shiver violently in your sleepy state. 

Jungkook’s arms wrap around you from behind, trying to keep your nearly naked form warm, while Taehyung’s fingers on your nape clasp what you realise now is a choker. 

“This holiday is just one stone to deal with them both,” his fingers tilt up your chin so he can show Jimin the sparkle of a hundred diamonds adorning your neck. 

“Perfect,” the eldest of the trio hums in approval before mumbling, “as they say, revenge is best served cold.” 

He smirks, eyes darting down your body as Jungkook starts kissing your neck, both the chill of the piece and the warmth of your skin touching his lips. 

“The recording…” It’s hard to concentrate on Taehyung’s words when the maknae’s fingers dance around your waist, his arms holding you tighter against him. He’s already hard and it’s all your body wants to focus on, but Tae distracts you when you notice the phone in his hand.

“...is for them,” there’s glint of mischief in his eyes, a devilish smirk, “this,” his fingers trace the line of priceless jewels embellishing his beautiful flower, “is for us.” 

—

You can see why they say revenge is an act of passion as your fingertips grip the bed sheets for dear life, open mouth moaning into the mattress beneath you. Your body’s splayed out for his pleasure, his thrusts unrelenting.

“I can see why Namjoon Hyung favours this position,” Jungkook moans out, palm on your back holding you down. “Fuck Baby girl your squeezing me so tight.”

There’s a sadistic chuckle from his lips as he watches his dick slide in and out. He pushes back in deeper, harder, pressing his chest to your back, the angle hitting new spots that made you want to scream. 

“You’re wetting my dick so well,” he murmurs into your ear seductively, just for you to hear, covering you with his whole body, wanting to feel you everywhere. He can feel you breathing hard with the way he smothers you, 

Your hand clamps over your mouth, earning a displeased grunt from Jungkook before he bites down on your shoulder in warning.

“Kitten don’t cover your mouth,” Jimin taunts, forcing your hand away with his grip tight around your wrist, watching you bite your lips so hard they might bleed. “Let the Hyungs hear you.” 

“She really does look like a kitten with that choker,” Taehyung’s signature deep lilt rumbles, his voice full of amusement. His thumb pulls your bottom lip until it's released from your teeth, little gasps escaping as you try to keep quiet knowing they were recording you. Even if the thought turned you on so much you were extra sensitive to their touch, you wanted them to hear you, wanted to moan their names too but that would be too cruel wouldn’t it? And Taehyung wouldn’t be too pleased with that either. 

“Come on beautiful girl let them hear you,” Jungkook orders gutturally, leaning back before his palm spanks your ass hard before returning to your hip, the slap heard sharp through the air followed by your delicious whines. His grip is bruising as he picks up the pace, wanting to elicit more out of you. The harder he fucks you the more his Hyung’s will hear, the thought makes his dumb fucked out grin wider. 

“Don’t call her you know what,” Jimin laughs, the punishment of this was enough for Hobi he was sure, but he couldn’t feel entirely sorry for him when he was one of the perpetrators that locked him out. “Hoseok Hyungs scary when he’s pissed.” 

“He didn’t call her a good girl so he’s exempt,” Taehyung mumbles, almost losing himself to the show you and Jungkook were performing, his heel pressing against his aching length so hard he bites back a groan. Jimin was faring no better, hands in his pants, eyes drunk on how Junkook played with you like his own fuckdoll, you could do nothing but lie there and take it.

“Ah Kookie right there,” you almost scream, the head of Jungkook’s cock was stroking your G-spot making your toes curl, your mouth hanging open, saliva dripping down your lips. “O-oh fuck!” 

Your clit was begging to be touched to push you over, but your limbs were too busy keeping you somewhat steady so you didn’t go crashing into the headboard or falling off the bed. You doubt Jungkook would stop even if you did.

“Baby girl if you want to cum…” Taehyung says with a sinister smug smirk, as if he could hear your thoughts, “... call Jungkook daddy.” 

You whimper in protest, shaking your head vehemently, not wanting to. It was a step too far, you eyed the device in front of you recording away, as if Namjoon was right there listening now. You wouldn’t do that to him, even if your being was screaming at you to do as Tae said just to taste a fucking orgasm. 

“Tsk, bad flower,” Taehyung grumbles, looking annoyed that you wouldn’t behave for his masterplan. “Hyung deserves to be punished.”

He smooths the hair away from your face, leaning down close to you as Jungkook eased his pounding a smidge, edging both of you. It was so close.

“Be a good girl hmmm,” Tae grunts in your ear, trying to be persuasive, using that name against you, “call Jungkook daddy.”

You shake your head again in refusal at his command, you wouldn’t. The hand in your hair slides down your neck, a finger hooking on the back of your choker, tugging hard, a warning to behave. The pressure on your neck made you go dizzy, the rim of gems almost cutting, eyes rolling back as you let out a guttural moan. You meet his now dark gaze, a shiver down your spine has you seconds away cumming, but it seemed the punishment to the older CEOs now extended to you.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung sighs in disappointment and the cock that was pounding into you now disappears with a groan. You feel your walls pulsate against nothing, the emptiness almost painful, but all Taehyung does is kiss your tears as they slip down, letting go of you so your head hits the mattress again, and stopping the recording as he throws the phone aside. He could always edit the audio anyway.

You feel a wetness on your back, the sounds of the maknae fisting his cock until his load shoots all over you. 

“Should we send a picture with the recording?” He smirks looking down at you knowing how much his favourite hyungs would appreciate such a beautiful view. Jungkook turns you on your back, peering down at you with love in his eyes but a smile so devilish. “What do you think bunny?”

You don’t even know what he’s on about, words unable to enter your ears with the way they were pounding, your clit throbbing with the need to be touched, your pussy weeping. 

“Wanna cum,” you whine, thighs rubbing together searching for some sort of friction. 

“Aww Angel wants to cum?” Jimin coos as you squirm before he snickers, glancing at Taehyung’s stone face knowing you weren't going to get there for a while regardless of how much you’d beg and plead. There was a reason Taehyung’s previous partners would call him a tiger in bed, the man could flip a switch in a second, his duality constantly pulling and pushing his partners to and from the edge. Right now, the oldest maknae could see the displeasure of your disobedience in his eyes, the air around him turning dangerous. It was going to be a long day. 

—

“I’m surprised you can stand,” Jimin’s teasing voice pulls you out of your reverie. How long were you staring at this painting for? You lost yourself to it. 

“No thanks to you,” you mutter, eyes still on the soft brushstrokes on the canvas in front of you. At least they let you sleep before your sight seeing, the Europeans had it right, naps in the afternoon should be the law.  

“You’ve been staring at this one for an hour,” Jimin exaggerates with a pout, trying to figure out what was holding your attention. “And Taehyung’s been staring at you.”

At this you turn around to find indeed your devious mastermind boyfriend staring a hole into your back, normally you’d feel his eyes on you but not today. He didn’t like that, he just kept his gaze on you intensely, trying to telepathically get you to notice him but it didn’t work. 

“Who could blame him?” Jimin smirks suggestively, “all these famous paintings and they don’t hold a candle to my angel.”

You roll your eyes, walking away from him and the disgusting amount of cheese he was spewing, trying to locate the last of the troublesome trio. You find Jungkook also enjoying the actual art in the gallery, you were honestly surprised Tae wasn’t with him, this was typically his scene.

“Kookie, do you like this one?” you ask him, taking his hand in yours as you walked past a statue he spent a few more seconds on than the others. 

“Mmmm,” he hums absentmindedly, “the detail’s amazing.”

He sighs in wonder, round eyes admiring the next one in line.

“I need to know how they made it.”

“You want to make one too?” you jest, smiling at him endearingly as he continued to stare. 

“I want to make one of you,” he confesses so easily, making your organs somersault. You try not to let your jaw drop.

“You’re ridiculous,” you breathe, laughing as you pull him away from the exhibit. 

You head back towards the paintings, only to find Taehyung staring intently at your favourite one as if he was ready to start a war with it. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did considering his current regime for vengeance. You frown when someone in a business suit greets him with a handshake, wondering how the two knew each other. The conversation, whatever it was about, looks deep, and your curiosity wants you to eavesdrop. 

“Angel lets go to the gift shop,” Jimin grabs your other hand, steering you away before you walk over to Taehyung. 

“Who’s Tae talking to?” You ask, trying to catch a glimpse of the pair as Jimin pulls you and Jungkook in tow.

“Just business,” he replies, not really answering the question at all.

—

Taehyung’s heart is in his throat when they deliver it. It’s the evening, he was hoping you wouldn't be back until after the delivery, but you were so worried about his despondency, especially when he left the three of you and came back to the apartment alone. You had to force Jimin and Jungkook to end the dinner plans early, opting for take out instead. They had to listen to you when you threatened to find Taehyung without them.

“What… what is this?” You gasp, jaw on the floor as they uncover it. No fucking way, nope, no, he didn’t…… for fuck sake he did, you stare incredulously at him, knowing exactly who was behind the purchase. “Kim Taehyung you did not.”

He swears he could see the steam leave your ears and flared nostrils. Even the men from the gallery glanced at you both in worry, contemplating waiting to see if you were going to murder him before they made their leave.

“Flower-”

“Return it.” There was no room for argument in your tone, but argue with you he would. 

“Flower,” he says again patiently, “I wanted it for you.”

Jimin and Jungkook were hiding in the other room praying for Taehyung’s survival, while simultaneously hiding from you. They warned Taehyung about the consequences, you had already made explicit rules about stuff like this, and you never took it well when they broke them. 

“Taehyung, I don't even want to think about how much it cost, or it's going to make me sick,” you say, actually feeling nauseous and slightly dizzy. This was overwhelming, he was overwhelming. 

He sighs before approaching you, fingers stroking your sides to try and calm you, but your arms are crossed in front of you like a barricade. 

“The cost doesn’t matter,” he says, pressing a finger to your lips before you can fight with him, his forehead leaning on yours, eyes beseeching you. “I want to spoil you, why won’t you let me?”

You exhale exasperated. 

“It’s too much,” your jaw ticks, he wasn’t going to win this one. “It’s ridiculously too much!”

“Says who?” he asks you, smiling softly despite your anger. He caresses your face with both hands, holding you so delicately as if you were the million-billion euro-pound-won painting. You couldn’t think of the cost, you just couldn't, you would implode.  

“Tae-”

“I love you, I wanted to buy it for you,” a gentle kiss to your nose has your defences shaking, doubled with the gentle lilt in his voice. “My perfect flower deserves the world, why can’t I buy her a part of it, hmmm?”

“You just can’t,” but your own voice starts to match his in volume, and he has to stop himself from grinning in premature victory. 

“But I want to,” the softest kiss to your lips before he pulls away. “You deserve more, why won’t you let us spoil you?”

“Tae,” you sigh, eyes starting to water, it was too much, your heart was so full you could feel it in your chest. You couldn’t accept this, he bought you the painting you were staring at for fuck sake, it was beyond ridiculous, he shouldn’t have.

“I am grateful for the sentiment, but you have to return it,” you say as he shakes his head in refusal, “please.”

“No,” he replies simply, you weren’t going to win this one. “I know you love it, and I want you to have it, that’s it.”

You sniffle, tears starting to drop which he wipes away.

“But it's too much,” you wail, making him want to laugh at how precious you look.

“You said that already,” he pulls you into his embrace, your arms uncrossing to wrap around him. 

“B-but youdun e-even k-now why I like it-” he can barely understand with you gasping for breath between words as you sobbed.

He should feel bad for making you cry but you were so adorable he couldn’t help laughing a little. He kisses the side of your head, smiling as you mumble against him, trying to fight but you already lost. 

SATURDAY 

“Why did you bring your laptop on holiday!” Jimin groans as he walks into the bedroom to find you sitting crossed legged on the bed, furiously typing away.

“I just have one more thing to finish…” you mumble without glancing at him.

“Bunny you seriously have issues,” Jungkook mutters, Jimin turning in surprise to see him on the armchair, chin in his hand, elbow on the arm rest, staring at you as if you were some weird enigma.

“We brought you to your favourite place on Earth,” Jimin exclaims dramatically, trying to close the laptop but you take it away from his reach. “And you’re working?”

“Two seconds, just two more.”

Jimin sighs, fingers raking through his hair as he stands with his hands on his hips ready to berate you before he realises someone was missing.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

The maknae shrugs, but this question makes you look up from the screen like a meerkat.

“Huh?” You look at the end of the bed, as if you’re expecting him to be there. “He was just there…”

You shrug to yourself, sure he was somewhere having fun, turning back to the laptop with intent while Jimin looks at you incredulously. Fine he’ll give you your two seconds but he isn’t happy about it. He starts pacing in front of you, arms crossed and huffing, but it does nothing to deter your work or gain him any attention.  

It’s when his legs start aching that he’s decided you’ve had long enough. 

“Angel put it away before I throw it out the window,” he warned, but you completely ignore him as if he didn’t say a word. Is this how flies felt when they buzzed incessantly around the room screaming for attention… did he really compare himself to a fly… he couldn’t help making the comparison, you were the one to make him feel so insignificant and he flew you to Italy for pete's sake. He marches towards you, not really wanting to resort to violence but you weren’t budging.  “Fine, have it your way.”

“You guys took my phone, don’t touch my laptop,” you warn when he takes another step closer.

“You were gonna call them!”

“And you’ve had your fun and gotten your revenge, let me just finish this.”

“You said two seconds, IT'S BEEN TWO HOURS,” he yells, exasperated.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” you scoff as if that was any better.

“Are they working you too hard?” Jungkook interrupts asking you bluntly, having watched your session since near the start, he thinks he's deciphered the reason behind it.

You hesitate, swallowing around nothing. Why did that question make you nervous?

“Nothing I’m not used to,” you reply, it’s not like working with them was any easier.

“So yes they are,” Jimin confirms. “Yesterday you were enjoying this impromptu holiday, today you look like you’re going to fight us if we try and take you outside.”

“We will take you outside eventually, bunny,” Jungkook adds, “kicking and screaming if we have to.”

“What changed angel?” Jimin narrows his eyes.

You try and avoid their gazes, confession on the tip of your tongue at their interrogation but their judgement holds you back, 

“Spill angel,” Jimin stands with his arms crossed, voice firm.

You groan, falling head first into the duvet as if you could bury your response there forever. 

“It’s stupid,” you mumble against the fabric. 

“What did she say?” 

“Fuck knows,” Jungkook frowns.

You sigh, picking yourself up in defeat. 

“I had a nightmare last night,” you mutter, making things no clearer for the two as they look at each other in question. “About work…”

There’s a beat of silence as your confession sinks in.

“Taehyung's right…” Jimin says as if he’s come to an epiphany, “you really are a good girl.”

You feel your cheeks burn, trying not to let your jaw fall slack as the oldest maknae grins, laughing at you softly. 

“It’s not funny,” you say to the pair as the youngest also decides to cackle too. “They found out I skipped work and then started yelling at me and it scared the shit out of me okay.”

But your words only make them laugh harder, Jimin characteristically falling to the floor as he holds his stomach. You roll your eyes, trust them to understand.

“I’m gonna go find Tae,” you mumble, slamming your laptop shut and exiting the room while they try and fail to control themselves.

“Wait, we're coming with you,” Jimin calls after you, still laughing loudly, the corners of his mouth almost touching his ears. 

Maybe they were right, maybe you did need to enjoy yourself while you could, who knew what work had in store for you when you went back. There was nothing you could do about that, but there was something you could do now. 

You find your target looking at the painting he bought from the gallery yesterday, the one you still couldn’t believe was hanging on the wall of your holiday home. If Taehyung didn’t have the money to buy it you’re sure he would’ve stolen it for you instead. For some reason you could picture him being an art thief in another life. 

He was staring so intently, it was as if the roles had reversed from yesterday, his eyes darting around each pigment on the canvas trying to decipher it. The way you had paid it attention almost made him jealous, so of course he had to buy it for you, at least to try and figure out why you loved it at first sight. 

“Hey tiger,” you greet him gleefully, and he’s more than happy to look at you instead. He grins when you wink at him flirtily like Jin does to you from time to time, but you do it more dramatically, eyebrows dancing as you approach him. 

“Tiger?” he chuckles, that one was new from you, but he didn’t mind it even if it was tainted from lovers past. 

You grab his arm with both hands, tugging him gently towards you, a silent plea to follow you, and he would, absolutely anywhere if you asked. The other two aren’t far behind, but your focus is solely on him, and he can’t help but burst with pride, his chest inflating like a superhero film cliche. You looked at him with far more love than that stupid painting, he didn’t feel as much envy towards it as before.

“I wanna take you somewhere special,” you whisper to him, eyes imploring up at him, how could he ever refuse. “It’s my favourite cafe, but don’t tell the others, shh.”

You playfully press your finger to your lips, as if sharing a secret with him. He bites his bottom lip hard to stop from laughing out loud but his boxy grin is stretched wide across his face. 

“What about us?” Jimin whines as you purposefully ignore him, Jungkook’s jaw ticking with jealousy when you pull Taehyung with you. 

“You laughed at me, I’m not taking you anywhere,” you reply childishly, sticking your tongue out at him with your nose in the air as they continue to bicker with you.

This really was your favourite place on Earth.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

[starrystevie]

steve leaves for work everyday at 6am, groggy, thermos full of coffee, and his ring on his finger. it's nothing special necessarily, just his class ring with a fake green emerald in the center that he wears on his right ring finger. it makes his left ring finger feel a bit empty and a bit weightless, but he's trying his best to be patient.

he goes about his day as usual, kids coming into his guidance office to talk about the easy stuff like class schedules and the harder stuff that he hates to hear about, and doesn't think anything about the ring he fiddles with while he concentrates. it's bumpy under his fingertips and well worn around the bottom which he had never really noticed before, but he's had the ring for damn near 10 years so he isn't surprised that the metal is a little too smooth.

it isn't until steve gets home that he notices something's off. eddie's eyes are a bit red-rimmed while he sits on the couch and stares aimlessly at the tv, beer bottle almost forgotten in his hand. the house is a mess, papers strewn all over the counters, decorative pillows on the floor, laundry covering the steps.

"babe, what happened?" he asks, dropping his briefcase at the front door and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend as quickly as he can. eddie sags against him and rests his hand over both of steve's where they hold tight against him.

"i lost my mom's ring," he whispers out, small and broken with a hint of fresh tears laced into it. "i never let it out of my sight, i don't know how i could have... maybe it's..."

he trails off and untangles himself from steve's embrace to start picking through the pockets of the jeans littered on the stairs. pair after pair of pants are thrown here, there and everywhere as eddie mutters to himself until steve gets up to hold him again.

"we'll find it," he says with an assurance that he doesn't believe, but eddie's eyes light up at the promise and he gives him a watery smile as steve grabs his hands to thread their fingers together. it's as he looks at their clasped hands that he realizes what's happened.

he laughs, he shouldn't laugh, because it breaks eddie out of his spell and into another fit of unshed tears, but it's funny in that awful sort of way that he can't help but laugh. he untangles their fingers, ignores the hurt flashing across eddie's face, and slides the ring off his hand. without another word, he takes the ring and slides it onto eddie's finger and definitely does not think about doing that in any other sort of setting with far more tuxes and probably the same amount of tears.

"steve... where-?" eddie's sobs turn into small hiccuped laughs to match steve's. "how did you get this?"

steve shakes his head, presses a quick kiss to eddie's palm then to the ring, before tangling their fingers once more. "i'm so sorry baby, i must have grabbed it off the nightstand on accident thinking it was my class ring. you know how dark it is when i leave in the morning."

eddie rolls his eyes and mutters out a small "it's okay" against steve's lips, squeezing his hand tightly, the gem nestled in his mom's ring glinting in the beams coming from the light in the hallway. and if you ask steve, he'd say it was her forgiving him for the confusion, too.

[luveline]

tiny baby blurb of rockstar!remus and new to the band!reader just dealing with everything together if that's okay!

thank u for ur request ♡ fem!reader

"What are they doing?"

Remus steps up to the window beside you, looking down at the crowd as it flows forward like a crashing wave. Sirius and James are small as grains of rice from so far below, but they are unmistakably themselves. 

"I hope they get trampled."

"We'd be missing half the band," you argue. 

"We could make it work. We're good like that." 

You lean into his side tentatively, wanting to know what he'll do. His hand comes up immediately to curve over your shoulder, his forearm pressed to your shoulder blade. He presses his cheek to the top of your head, the distinct smell of his chamomile cologne awakening with his movements. 

It's as calming as his touch. 

Remus, through everything, has been by your side. Physically and emotionally. His hand warms a path from the hill of your shoulder to the straight column of your neck, his lips touching your temple as he asks, "You okay, dove?" 

Things have been hectic lately, mainly tonight. The hotel room behind you is an explosion of clothes; jackets and shirts and a hundred pairs of trousers strewn about. There are socks on the TV stand, your clean underwear tipped and toed aside by the bottom of your bed. Remus promised to help you tidy up before this distraction, and you're wondering if he'd help you tidy up the mess in your head, if you asked. 

"I think I'm really tired," you confess quietly. 

Remus does kiss you, then, on the top of your head. It has your pulse roaring to life like a motor with its pull cord yanked out. It wouldn't shock you if they looked at your heart and found it spinning in circles. Yet he's always so casual about touching you, like it doesn't wobble the earth on its axis for him as it does you, so you try not to react. You're content to be doted on by him if doting is all it is. 

But you'd like a little more than that, too. 

"We'll clear off the bed and sleep." 

See, what's that? He's offering to get into bed with you? 

You pick at the caulking around the window. With the sun shining from an angle as it sets, gold light crawls up your arms. If you look into the diamond of shadow in the corner, you can see your two faces reflected. You look morosely exhausted. Remus looks handsomely concerned, half his face hidden where he's turned his cheek to your skin. His hand roams across your shoulder to the right most side, a half hug. 

"Is it a different kind of tired?" he asks gently. 

"I'm okay." You feel better the longer he touches you. He worries a lot about how you're coping under the pressure of the band, but he doesn't need to. "You know, I can do this, but only because you're with me." 

"That's not true, is it?" he asks, pulling your face into his neck for a quick squeeze. 

Remus' hand rubs a rougher pattern into the top of your arm before he separates from you, leaving you to miss the heat and security of his touch. 

"You don't need me to do this. You forget how impressive you are. Now come and help me put this away," he says.

You tear away from the window and the last lingering effects of his hug. "Can't you do it for me?" you joke, looking down at him where he's kneeled to begin folding your trousers. You're so tired that the idea of sitting down with him to put your clothes away feels akin to climbing Mount Everest. 

"Not unless you want me looking through your knickers, dove." 

You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly much more awake. "I'll do it," you say. 

"These ones are cute," he says, reaching for a pair of black ones peeking out from under the bed frame. 

You drop to your knees and shove his shoulder, forcing his hand away. "I'll do it!" you repeat, your face burning with embarrassment. 

His answering laugh is especially annoying. Annoying and so, so charming. 

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Two: John Price + Masturbation

Your photos are always in Price's breast pocket, protecting his heart from the mission. You bring him home to you every time he leaves you in the early mornings and arrives back at the flat late.

When Price finally leaves the base at nearly two in the morning, he doesn't expect you to greet him. He excepts to find you snuggled up in your shared bed with his shirt wrapped around your frame. Drool falls from the corner of your mouth, hair wild from constantly moving around in the bed.

All the lights are off in the flat. Nothing shows anything of life except the sound of humming and quiet moans. It doesn't send Price into a panic. He knows those sounds. The humming of an electric toy and the moans of his pretty girl pleasing herself.

He should be jealous that he isn't the one making you moan like that, but he can't deny you your pleasure. He's been gone nearly a month, and it's not like the two of you have rules about this.

Your polaroids are always sitting in his breast pocket, and any time he's missing you, he pulls them out, and it gets his cock hard under those military pants.

Typically Price would drop his shit by the front door with a loud thud and make his presence known, but tonight he feels like letting you continue without knowing of his presence. He's quiet on his feet as he makes his way towards your shared bedroom. The low light of the bedside light glows over your skin.

Your legs are wide open, and a bright blue vibrator teasing your clit. Nipples are pebbled and taught as you roll between your thumb and pointer finger. Your neck is exposed in such a delicious way, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you get closer and closer. Your legs start to shake, and your moans get higher and higher.

Price can't hold back any longer. His pants are too fucking tight, and the urge to slip his cock, or honestly his head between your thighs, is growing at an alarming rate. He wants to feel the hold of your thighs as you cum.

He doesn't bust in through the bedroom door, but you're definitely shaken out of your equilibrium as you open your eyes with shock. Your chest falls and rises as you try to catch your breath. "John?" Your voice is scratchy, which only tells your dear boyfriend that you've been at this a lot longer than he's been privy to. You start to pull the vibrator away from your leaky cunt, but Price shakes his head. "Don't stop on my accord, love." The belt on his pants lands on the floor with a thud, and he walks over to the little desk in your bedroom, pulls the chair out, and takes a seat. "Did you miss my cock that much, baby?" He teases you, and you hum as you watch Price reach into his pants and pull out his girthy cock, pre-cum leaks from the angry tip as Price's eyes never leave your cunt.

"Show Daddy how much you missed him." Prices say as he starts to slowly jerk himself. This comes as no surprise to you; Price loves to watch. Loves knowing that no matter if he's home or away, you only are thinking of him when you're making a mess between your pretty thighs.

With that, the vibrator comes back to life. Pressing it gently into your overstimulated clit. "You were so close before, I could tell." You hum and open your legs wider, giving Price more of a show. "So close, Daddy." You mutter. "I could tell baby, had your legs shaking and toes curled." The faster your legs shake, the harder Price pumps his cock. Trying to keep pace and rhyme with you the closer you get. "I'm so close, Daddy." You moan out as your chest starts to rise and fall faster. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you are just seconds away.

"That's okay, baby girl. You can cum whenever you want. Just know that we are nowhere close to being done. I've been gone for far too long, and Daddy wants to taste his pretty girl-wet fucking pussy before I sink my cock in." Price's words push you over the invisible edge. Your eyes clamp shut, your toes curl. You feel as if the world has stopped around you for one second. The only;y thing you can hear is the wet, slick sounds of Price pumping his cock.

Posted on 10/02/24

Completed on: 06/27/24

Kinktober 24-

[skultyun]

Just head empty. (I lied I'm thinking about taehyun using my mouth like a toy) You as his personal stylist and locked in the dressing room with him because he said there was a "wardrobe malfunction" which was just an excuse to get you touching all over him.

warnings: dom!taehyun, noona!reader, oral (m.recieving) and some degradation..

You were busy minding your own business, brushing off the dust on the members clothes when someone suddenly taps your back. You look behind you to see it's taehyun and he points at himself, his outfits all messed up and far from how it originally looked like earlier. "Something happened, can you fix it?" He asks like it's no big deal, but you're in shock wondering how did it get ruined this badly. "What- What did you do!" You place the lint roller aside, taking closer inspection of him.

"it's just a few wrinkles." But the angered look on your face quickly shuts him up. "Just a few? It's supposed to be tucked in— and where even is your belt??" You lift his shirt up to find out most of the accessories suppose to be on him few gone. "It's in the other dressing room, I went to the bathroom so I had to take some things off."

"And did that have to include your shirt?" You question, but he shrugs, sighing in defeat you take his wrist and drag him to the room where he claims all the accessories he had removed where, and he was right, all of them were on this one table scattered and placed on top of eachother. You wanted to smack the shit outta this guy, even if it meant ruining his makeup. "Right before you go on stage.." you shake your head and he comes over. "Take your shirt off, I have to iron it." Both hands on the table with the most fed up look on your face.

He complies without complaint, undoing the buttons one by one from top to bottom, you catch yourself staring at his physique, he's well-built.. extremely well-built. Leaving much to your imagination of what left he had to show.

"Mhm, and what now?" His voice interrupts your thoughts, you almost lost track of what you had to do, good thing he thinks your upset, otherwise it'd be obvious you had interest in him. "Right." You approach him and take the polo setting it on the table as you went to get the belt.

"Seriously don't get why you'd need to leave this here aswell.. making me do all the work.." cursing under your breath, you get on your knees, leveled to his waist as you adjust his pants. He's staring down at you, real intense. It makes you panic briefly before you calm yourself down. Telling yourself that 'you were a professional, this shouldn't be that much of a deal.' but you knew that was untrue. Being around taehyun makes your heart race extremely fast. You can't tell if it's because of those big pearly eyes of his, or his sexy raspy voice when he calls for your attention, how he's a little younger yet towers over you with ease.

You really didn't know.

But he probably did, noticing your jittery movements as you slipped up attempting to put his belt on over and over again, well aware he could just tell you to stop and he could do it himself (but he likes seeing you suffer) yet he didn't. Observing every move of yours, enjoying the touch you gave him in such "subtle" ways.

"Noona, you're too obvious." He states, you pause in whatever you were doing (like you were doing it in the first place.) to look at him. Your widened eyes as he calls for your attention never ceases to amuse him, round shiny eyes always having to look up at him, it's the same for this time aswell. "Obvious? What do you mean obvious?" You play it off cool, though you already had a clue of what it might be..

"Eyeing me like that, imaging dirty things in that pretty little head of yours and thinking you could get away with it?" Your heart drops to your stomach, you knew you glanced at him a "few times" but you didn't think it'd be THAT obvious. "I'm not dumb darling, I can sense when someone's eyes are on me." He lifts your chin with his left hand, the other going to zip down his pants which you don't even notice because you're too immersed looking into his eyes.

"But you're in luck, because I'm looking back."

His hand tugs down at his boxers, his cock sprung out free, standing up so tall something from him is once again towering over you. Beads of pre-cum are rolling down from his leaking tip, he presses it against your lips to which you don't hesitate to taste, tongue peeking out to lick over his slit. Taehyun groans and squeezes your cheeks to have your mouth open. "We've still got time, right?"

You nod, not even caring about the stage performance anymore, you already had a taste, and you had to come back for more. "Mhm- please kang wanna taste your cock.." letting yourself go along with the shame as you begged to have him, getting impatient himself he hums. "You'll let me use that perfect tight throat of yours right? Let me fill it up to the brim with my cum?" The idea gets you so excited, squeezing your thighs together, you nod. "Will- every drop..!"

"Then take it—" He huffs, forcefully pushing his cock through your lips and into your warm cavern, he's moaning loudly from your heat. "Ahh.. bet your pussy would feel just as good." He stills, so deep into you hes already slipped past the back of your throat. You hum with your eyes shut, the vibrations causing him to groan. "C'mon noona, you promised to take it all."

He grabs a fistful of your hair, you open your eyes for the first time, looking up to meet his gaze once again, full of fierce passion and desire. "So perfect with your mouth stuffed with my cock.." he drags you back, pulling you away from his length, leaving your throat empty, the feeling of his shaft deep in you missing makes you crave it again, but there's no time to miss it as he gives you exactly what you want, shoving you back down his shaft, you almost choked from how sudden it is, but you relax your throat and let him use it to how he pleases.

"Ugh, is this what you wanted? To choke on my dick while there's people waiting out there to see me? Wonder what they would think about when they realize you were here sucking me off.. think about how much of slut!- agh- you are for me.."

His dick slams to the back of your throat time and time again, bruising you that it definitely left a mark, it's so hard it doesn't spare time for you to think about it, just cock-drunk for this man's dick, your pussy aches at it's emptiness, wanting to have him so bad. Taehyuns reaching his peak, starting to move his hips along as well as the pace speeds up. "Fuck,- fuck! So warm- sooo tight." He coos. "Just wanna fill you up, all filled up with my cum, so you know just how much I've been wanting you too."

You whine around his dick, his words don't help stop your arousal, your wetness is dampening your panties, free hand slides inside to rub at your clit. "So I'll do it- keeping my promise- good girl- good girl takes my dick so well!-" The obscene wet sounds of your saliva from his dick pumping into you makes you crazy, oh how much you needed him, never knew you'd be this downbad.

"G-Gonna cum!- shit- c'mon and take it noona, take it pretty girl-" he raspes before he's moaning and thrusting deep into you, white spurts of cum paint your throat and you take every single drop like promised, you reach your own high aswell and moan around his dick as you sunk two fingers into your heat, milking all the cum out of him dry before hes pulling out and pumping his cock, you open your mouth which was covered in his cum, taehyun groans and shoots the remainder of his seed on your face, trickling down to your chin and chest.

You swallow it and breath heavily to catch your breath, it hurts to swallow.. bastard. But he's like perfectly sculpted angel when he's glistening in sweat and panting heavily on top of you, cock still standing hard. "Y-You're still hard?? Even after all my efforts.."

He chuckles, crouching down to your eye level. "Oh trust me they aren't going to waste." Hovering over you as your laid back on the floor, positioning himself between your legs, you panic realizing the time that you may have left and push him off before he could push into your entrance. "Woah there! Don't you realize the time? You need to be in stage in a few minutes!"

But taehyun shrugs. "It doesn't matter, I'll just make it quick then."

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

-

Leigh is ten minutes late. 

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read. 

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on. 

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I—” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began. 

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out. 

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

-

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast. 

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side. 

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven. 

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying. 

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

-

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there. 

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout. 

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different. 

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber. 

“Everything alright?” 

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

-

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual.  It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

-

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously. 

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

-

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.” 

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out. 

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere. 

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

-

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too. 

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

-

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin. 

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day. 

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

-

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room. 

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch. 

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style. 

-

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding. 

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.  

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers. 

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead. 

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

[bau-drabbles]

haunted

emily, one of your close friends in the bau, comes back and after months of crying over her death you're not sure how to feel. it hurts the most when the deception also comes from aaron, the man you've loved for so long

a/n: idk how i feel about it. it's very rushed because half of it was deleted and i couldn't be bothered to go back and rewrite it properly.

aaron hottie angst again because his pain is so beautifully upsetting. kinda long so enjoy 🤍

part 2 :)

"everybody, have a seat" aaron's voice is more tense than usual, as if he was about to announce some bad news. your heart races but you walked in, grabbing a seat next to morgan. jj stands beside hotch and she looks almost worried, toying with her fingers. your brows knitted in confusion, wondering what was so urgent

"why, what's going on? everything all right?" spencer asked, his brow raised.

"seven months ago, i made a decision that affected this team. as you all know, emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with doyle," hotch began

"but the doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from boston to bethesda under covert exfiltration. her identity was strictly need-to-know. and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. she was reassigned to paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security" he finishes but there's pin drop silence in return. his arms had folded over awaiting a response but everyone was shocked to say a thing

your heart feels like it's plummeted at the bottom of the earth, the breath completely knocked out from your lungs. you hope someone announces its a big joke but hotch looks at all of you expectantly. jj has her head slightly bowed, unable to make any eye contact and its then you realise she knew all along.

"she's alive?" you didn't even think you said it out loud but aaron looks at you, his brows in a tight frown. you see the truth spilled on his face and it stings immensely knowing how he saw you in your vulnerable moments and still decided not to say a thing

he knew all along

"but we buried her" someone else says but at that point you completely blank out, sinking further in your seat. hoping the ground would swallow you whole and remove the burden crushing your heart.

"as i said, i take full responsibility for the decision. if anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me" aaron looks at you again but you don't bother looking in his direction.

all those times, every single tear, every second of sadness, all of it was.... fake?

"any issues?? yeah, i got issues-" morgan started, standing up towards hotch. but he doesn't go far for garcia speaks again. her eyes are brimmed with tears, walking quickly towards the door

"oh, my god" and you turn, unable to register the vision in front of you

"i am so sorry, i really am. not a day went by that i didn't want to...really, i... you didn't deserve that and i'm so sorry" the voice you thought you'd never hear again in this lifetime spoke. there she genuinely was, in the living breathing flesh. garcia grabs her in a hug and they share a tearful laugh about something you can't hear.

"there is so much i want to tell you guys and-and i will, i promise" the woman you spent crying in private about for weeks was now alive, like nothing had even happened.

garcia embraces her tight again and jj, morgan, rossi and reid followed suit.

it doesn't comprehend there she genuinely was, actually physically standing there. so many emotions had run through you, unclear of which one it was. all you can think about was her in your arms actively dying and you crying as you screamed for medics to come.

so you remained silent, while everyone had hugged her you stood just looking. unsure of what to feel, unsure over how to act. it felt foreign and you get lost in the reality of the situation, not realising she had made her way towards you

"y/n..." emily walked closer a smile on her lips but you couldn't reciprocate it. how could she so... nonchalanant about everything? those nights you spent crying, the nights your heart had felt so hollow in your chest, all of that burned in your mind.

the anguish, the pain, the guilt, all of it was an illusion.

and aaron, the man with whom you had trusted with your whole life glanced at you through the corner. he doesn't know what to say, what could be said? unintentionally he had lied to you, comforted you through pain that didn't even exist. he saw you vulnerable after her death, he was the one that pieced you back. and now it felt like all the parts he held together were coming undone.

"emily" you nod, a tight lipped smile on yours. even just being in her presence is enough to tip you over the edge so you distract yourself, holding the file. how strange, a mere seven months ago you two were the closest of friends.

and now you barely even knew her

"i-" she opens her arms slightly to embrace you but you open your hands to give her the information. touching her felt too soon, you needed some time to think.

"this is the file with doyle and everything going on with the kid. we don't have time to spare" you nod, quickly hand it to her and walk straight for the coffee. it wasn't caffeine that was going to help you tonight but it didn't hurt to try

•••

"hey..." morgan finds you staring blankly at the wall with the pictures, trying to find the next step in the kidnapping. and no matter how much you tried to regain your composure, it cracked piece by piece. exposing your facade and your true feelings behind the matter.

you were determined to keep a straight front for your team but every time you saw emily and jj and especially hotch, it felt like a challenge you weren't sure you'd win

"hey" you continue to take through the information, trying to piece the murder but there's so much on your mind it all feels like its vanishing in the air. like nothing is registering in your brain.

"hey" jj comes in and you stiffen up, quickly catching some files and exiting the room. she calls your name but you simply walk straight for the hallway. true, it was a childish thing to do but you couldn't look at any of them without the overwhelming urge to break down.

aaron, however, catches you in the hallway and you step back not wanting to even touch him, unable to look at his deceiting face.

"i know what you've been through. i understand that you're angry but i hope that you understand that this is not about you or me. this was about saving emily" his tone is sharp, firm but you see the hurricane of emotions in his eyes.

the most dominant being sorrow. but that wasn't enough for you, you almost wanted him to experience the pain you'd felt.

"why do you care about what i think hotch? it never mattered before, evidently" you match his tone in return, trying to go about him.

"y/n i know you're disappointed how we handled emily but it wasn't in our control, we couldn't say anything" he stops you and you don't even want to look at him, he knew how hard it had been on you. and he still didn't breathe a word of her survival.

"you couldn't or you wouldn't?? don't pretend to care what i've been through hotch. i came to you crying for weeks on end and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth. not fucking once. what did you expect? i'd hug prentiss and all would be well? give me a break" you scoffed, pulling away from him. he stood stunned for a moment, his brows scrunched in a confused frown

"i know and i understand-" "i don't think you do. we have a kid that's about to die hotch, now is not the time" you utter, glaring as you walked by him.

•••

the plane ride was silent, moreso than usual. you noticed the glances your team was giving you but as long as the job was done efficiently, there wasn't really anything to say, you'd talk on your own time. just you and your book was enough for now.

all that was interrupted when a voice cut in. a voice you thought you weren't ready to hear just yet

"declan is little shaken up but the doctor said he'll be fine" she smiled at you, eyes looking at you but you refused to make any contact

"good. we got there in time" you commented, turning the page.

"yes..." she taps her fingers on the table, unsure on how to continue the conversation. part of you hopes she walks away, not ready to listen to her just yet.

"well we're going to rossi's tomorrow night. i want to see if he really can cook. are you coming?" she asked hopefully, a small smile on her lips

"i don't know, i'm not so sure i can make it" you leaned your elbow on the armrest, continuing to read the same sentence until she left.

"look, l/n, i know you're mad at us because we didn't tell you what really happened, and... i understand that. but i promise you, we had no choice" she begins and she sighs a little before looking directly at you.

"you mourned one friend, i mourned seven" she chuckled lightly, trying to make you see from her perspective. but you couldn't, the betrayal rang far too loudly in your ears.

his especially

"it's not a competition emily" you put your book down, directly looking at her eyes. everything you had been bursting to say left your lips before you could even comprehend it.

"you didn't carry my coffin, you didn't cry over someone that was presumably dead. do you know how many times i was angry at myself for not doing more? i kept replaying that moment when i held you, near enough lifeless and completely covered in blood. and all i could do was beg you to breathe and stay with me. you didn't take medications because every time you closed your damn eyes, all you could see was your dead friend in her own blood did you? don't pretend we're the same emily, you have no idea what i went through" with every word, you could feel the anger boiling deep inside of you. the annoyance coursing through your veins like wildfire.

"you could've given us a hint, a sign, anything to indicate proof of life. but i had to hold the pain over your death for months. so forgive me if i don't want to go through that again" your tone was sharp, picking up your book back to indicate the conversation was over

"y/n i'm sorry i-" she began softly but you shook your head

"look emily, i appreciate what you're trying to do. really. and i'm happy that you're back but i need time and space too. i can't do this job efficiently otherwise. so please..." you indicated for her to leave and she reluctantly stood up, wanting to say a million words. but none of them seemed quite correct

you hoped no one would come and try to talk, just wishing this plane ride would end quickly and you'd be in the safe sanctuary of your bedroom

and for once your wish is granted

•••

the precinct was empty, dark and cold. replicating how you felt on the inside.

your bag was in your office and you hoped everyone was gone, you couldn't handle seeing their faces.

it was hard, because on the one hand your friend was back. you wanted to rejoice, and hug her so tight but the way it all happened... it felt wrong.

"y/n" and there it is. the voice you definitely didn't want to hear tonight

"aaron" you reply in response, turning around to face him. he looks dishevelled, almost as if he had to run to catch you back here. on any other day before, it would've made you fawn over his adorableness but it didn't stir a thing in you now.

"i know what i did was inexcusable. i know you're hurt, i know it could've been handled better. i realise that but you have to understand that this wasn't my order. if you had known, it would've put you in a compromising position too" he comes close until he's standing a foot away. his eyes are aligt with an emotion you've never seen him use before, pleading

"i just can't get over it hotch. i'm so happy she's back and under different circumstances i would've celebrated it. but i can't because you lied to me. for months and months" you want to fall in to his arms, to forget about everything that had transpired tonight but it would solve nothing. so you stay where you are, the ache in your heart growing by the minute.

"and for that i deeply apologise" before, this would have solved your problems. but now it felt like the gasoline added to the fire.

"you don't care about me aaron and i'm fooling myself if i keep pretending that everything is okay"

"i do y/n, i just need time. i just-"

"how much time?? how much longer can i be expected to wait?? how much longer can i pretend that you actually care about me-"

"i do care!" "oh you do?? you watched me cry for months. does that sound like caring? and you never want to progress further in this. how can i be with someone who doesn't care? emily coming back was just the icing. you'd use anything and anyone to get what you want hotch. you don't care about anyone, much less me"

"is that what you think of me?" he whispers, eyes narrowing at you

"it's what i know of you. from the moment i met you to now. i thought it was fine at first. but i can't do it. do you have any idea how.... hard it is to love you?" every word was a dagger to his heart, twisting and twisting until it was difficult to breathe.

"i'm done. i need a break. from you, from the bau, from everyone" you let out a shaky sigh, hugging your bag closer to your body. the man before you was your lifeline and now it felt like you were drowning in the depths of him. the only way to save yourself would be to remove yourself from his grasp, to pretend that he, your lover, never existed. he was aaron hotchner, your boss. he would never be the man you were so desperately and hopelessly in love with.

"y/n please don't-"

"i'm taking my holidays. don't contact me, don't find me. i just really.... don't want to see you ever" with that you stormed out of the room, away from him and his presence. away from his beautiful face you came to adore, away from all the memories you would forever cherish until your last breath.

but no amount of miles between you both could ever be enough

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 7

First things first. A THOUSAND APOLOGIES for being so late with getting this next part out. Holidays are definitely a struggle, and my will to write kinda abandoned me like a dad going out to get milk. Anyway! I hope you all enjoy this next part!

Warnings! Kissing some drinking and nipple play. It's still pretty tame. Vomit too! Reader gets sick

Masterlist

Dracule licks his lips, wanting to surge forward to devour you. He wants you, every drop that you would gladly give him. However, the warlord isn't ignorant and knows that if he were to dive in and open up to you about everything he wants, you would never allow him back on your island. So, he clears his throat and takes a step back once he stands from his kneel, “I think that's enough for now,” Mihawk rumbles and turns to go take the wine glasses back to the kitchen.

You surprise yourself by snapping your hand out and wrapping it around his wrist. You tug gently, face on fire as you give him a shy smile, “I would like another glass, please,” you whisper and look up at Hawkeye through your lashes. You like the way the wine has made you feel. Shoulders slumped and head feeking a little airy. You wanted to know how else it would make you feel.

Mihawk watches you, golden eyes tracing a scorching path from where you hold on to his wrist all the way to your face. A smirk tilts his lips and Dracule lets out a put upon sigh, “I suppose one more wouldn't hurt, Darling,” he murmurs and twists his wrist so that he can catch your hand in his and dip to press his lips to your knuckles.

You shiver at the press of those sinful lips against your skin. You aren't ignorant, not entirely, at least. Your books have prepared you for what goes in between a man and a woman, but to experience it? Just the thought of thinking about Dracule in that way has your face exploding in a blush.

Mihawk ticks a brow up at your reddening face, “Something wrong, dear?” He murmurs, tone a touch concerned when he watches you suck your bottom lip between your teeth and chew nervously. He hums and takes your face in his warm hands, and despite your current embarrassment, you still find yourself sagging in his hold.

“I'm fine. You're just… really pretty,” you find yourself admitting, and Dracule cortles at your innocent admission. You want to duck away from his laughter, but the pirate steps close enough to gently pressing his lips to your brow.

“I am glad you think so, sweet thing,” Mihawk rumbles, and you can hear the muted delight in his tone, “Though your beauty far outweighs my own. Despite your snowy devil fruit, you shine brighter than the Sun.”

Butterflies break out in your stomach, and your hands find his wrists and tighten around them. You have no idea what to say to his kind, flowery words, but Dracule doesn't seem to mind. He presses one last kiss to your brow and then recedes, taking the wine glasses to the kitchen to refill them.

Mihawk takes a moment once he is away from you. His hands grip the counter, and he breathes deeply through his nose. Dracule doesn't understand the sway you have him under. His heart thuds at even the smallest hint of affection, hands sweating like some preteen who haven't even kissed a girl yet.

“Fool,” Dracule hisses under his breath. There was no need to be overthinking his feelings for his dear one. She was his, and that was that.

That settled, Mihawk filled the glasses and loped back to the living room. A smile flits across his lips when he sees that you've stood from your seat and have taken his hat from where he'd placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. He can't help the huff of amusement that leaves him when you carefully place the massive hat in your head and examine yourself in the small mirror off to the side in your cluttered living room.

“You know, Pirate Captains consider it rude and unwise for another to wear their hat,” Dracule comments casually And smirks at the way you jump in shock, flurries scattering about in a puff as you swipe his hat down from its perch.

“Sorry!” You squeak and shuffle back to the fireplace to hook his hat back on the mantle.

“Don't apologize, Dear One,” Mihawk dismisses and walks over to hand you the glass of red. You examine it with a critical eye and then take a careful sip, smiling when you find that it tastes even better than before.

“Why is it rude?” You ask and settle back on your couch, pulling your legs up and under you. You are glad that Mihawk isn't upset at your curiosity.

“For some, their hat is their staple, their symbol of who they are. I've had mine for well over two decades now, and it would be like losing a part of myself if something were to happen to it,” Dracule hums and fingers the cross necklace that hangs around his necklace, “Just like my ship and my sword.”

You find yourself nodding along, fascinated by this way of life you know little about. The only pirates you've ever had the misfortune of meeting have been little more than barbarians.

As the night goes on, one glass turns into three more. Dracule had sat beside you on the couch, and as the bottle emptied, you had grown bolder. Scooting close to your friend and cuddling into his chest. Mihawk tightens the arm he has wrapped around you, and you happily allow him to move you so that you sit in his lap, legs on either side of his own. Dracule collects the empty glasses with one hand and sets them on a side table for later. Your head lolls to the side, vision shimmy and head stuffed with clouds. You are well and truly drunk, but you feel good, and you know that Dracule can make you feel even better.

You rise, and Mihawk is subjugated to the most lust filled look he's seen so far, and it makes him shift under you, hands moving to settle on your hips to keep you steady Your hands curl in the ruffle of his shirt, and you gasp when Dracule drags you close by the hips, blushing when you realize that Mihawk can definitely feel how hot you are between your legs.

You aren't sure who started kissing who first. All you know is that you adore the feeling of Dracule's tongue in your mouth. Mihawk explores in an unhurried manner, taking his time to catalog the meek whines and breathy whimpers you let out when he does something you like. His tongue curls around your own, and he gently sucks your slick muscle into his mouth. It's slick and wet and exactly what you want. You whine into the kiss, and Dracule takes pity on you, moving his hands up and under your shirt to rest his burning palms against your freezing skin.

The temperature chance has you breaking the kiss to hiss at the unexpected touch. Mihawk slides his hands up your sides, leaving a fiery trail that leaves you shaking in his hold. Everything feels tingly, like when you step into the ocean and feel the calm waves sap your strength. You drop your head to rest on his shoulder, but Mihawk gently pushes you back, and you are suddenly caught in his demanding gaze.

“Put your arms above your head, dear,” Mihawk orders, and you raise your arms up without a thought. He hooks your shirt and lifts it up and over your head, and then toss it to the floor. He sucks in a sharp breath when your breasts are exposed to him, and he makes a mental note that you did not wear any kind of chest wrap under your clothes.

Reverently, Dracule cups one of your glorious mounds, thumbs swiping over a peaked nipple and sighing in rapture when you moan for him. He does it again, playing with your tits to his enjoyment until you are a squirming mess in his lap.

“Dracule,” you whine, and glance down at him, eyes half lidded and full of heat. You don't know what you're asking for, only knowing that the man below you can provide it.

With a growl, Mihawk tips the two of you, shifting so that you land on your back and end up staring up at him. The warlord dips down, lips latching around a hard nipple and swirling his tongue around the bud. You curse, back bowing off the couch, but Mihawk holds you down, hand coming up to tweak and roll the only nub. Pleasure zings through you, body heating up as Mihawk laves your chest with attention. He leaves your nipple long enough to gently bite the soft skin of your breast, teeth digging in just enough to leave an imprint.

Your hands dig into his dark hair, pulling him down and closer to your heated body. Your hips jump on their own violation, and Dracule groans when you accidentally rut against his growing erection. He doesn't stop, wanting to every breathy moan you make for him.

Everything is perfect until it suddenly isn't. The multiple glasses of wine and your overheating body have made a bad combination. You grimace when you feel your stomach twist, eyes opening a crack, and the flickering light of the fire just makes the feeling worse.

“Mi-Mihawk,” you stutter out, and Dracule's sharp ears easily pick up on the panic in your voice. He raises up, and then he scrambles to stand when he notices the vaguely green tint you have going on. The warlord slides his arms under your body, lifting you bridal style as he speed walks to the bathroom. He gets you there just in time, knees hitting the ground and wine coming up to splash into the toilet.

You're crying by the time it's all over, fat tears rolling down your face, and you know you look pitiful. Mihawk strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, cleaning your face of any more tears, “I'm sorry,” you say, and wince at the roughness of your voice.

Dracule huffs at you and gently clears your hair away from your face, “No harm, Dear One. Let's just keep your wine intake to just one glass for now. How about that?”

You nod easily and sniff, wiping your face as your lips pull into a pout. You feel horrible, physically, and for ruining the mood from earlier. Mihawk opens his arms, and you gladly fall into him, shoving your face in the crook of his neck as he holds you. You silently promise yourself to never drink so much again.

Mihawk sighs to himself as he adjusts the precious bundle of blankets in his arms. You had fallen asleep within seconds of him holding you, leaving Dracule to once again pick you up and tuck you into bed. Hank gives him a big puppy smile when he enters your bedroom, and Dracule makes sure to pat his head a couple of times after tucking you in. He leans in and presses a kiss to your brow before leaving the room. Looks like it would be the couch again tonight.

@writingmysanity @foggyturtleknightangel @kenkenmaaa @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @djbumblebee

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Rec - Month 8 Nov 16 - Dec 15

Previous lists under the cut at the bottom

0-5k

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 2.9k Eddie goes to (mall) jail.

do you love me? all you gotta do is say yes by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Teen | 3.1k two boy best friends and an ex lover walk into a grocery store. everyone is on their normalest behaviour.

drawstrings by browney3dgirl6 / @hoodie-buck Mature | 3.7k Eddie helps Buck fix his drawstrings. How was he supposed to know it’d lead to him sitting in Bucks lap?

Here Comes the Jackpot Question In Advance by lamardeuse / @lamardeuse Teen | 4.1k Buck is determined to start the new year right.

5k-10k

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by trysetmeonfire / @try-set-me-on-fire Teen | 8.3k Bobby deals with the ramifications of a misplaced confession

10k-20k

Don't Push Me So Far Away I Can't Reach You by giselleslash. / @gigi-gigi Mature | 12k the one where Buck thinks he and Eddie are just friends with benefits so he pushes Eddie to date other people because he’s an idiot.

give it to someone special by rainbow_nerds / @rainbow-nerdss Mature | 12.3k Buck and Eddie meet at the airport after their respective girlfriends live their Hallmark movie dreams and dump them right before Christmas.

into thirty separate parts by hammersmiths / @henswilsons Teen | 12.6k Taylor’s book comes out.

sang to the sea for feelings deep blue by Tizniz / @tizniz General audiences | 14k The 118 responds to a cruise ship emergency.

20k - 30k

say (don't) go by bccalling / @fiona-fififi Teen | 20.4k Eddie starts dropping hints he wants more kids. Buck assumes he means with Marisol. Buck spirals about it. Eddie does not mean with Marisol.

deck the halls (and your in-laws) by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Mature | 29.6k Eddie and Buck, recently married and moved into their new house, have the (dis)pleasure of unexpectedly hosting their parents through the holiday season. It’s not what either of them want or need, but they can get through it because they’re in this together. Right?

30k +

Facets of a Diamond by countrygirlsfun / @acountrygirlsfun Teen | 35.1k Southern California is where Buck has spent the most time since leaving Pennsylvania. Of all the places he’s lived and worked over the last few years, this place is where he decided to stay. It’s why he picked LAFD: to put down some roots. It’s warm, has the ocean, and it’s the opposite coast of his parents. So if he’s going to be here for a while, he thinks he’ll need to make an effort to let people in.

Sweet Nothing by LongConvolutedSimiles Teen | 37.8k Buck and Eddie go on dates, fall in love and get together. Yes in that order.

Maybe More Than I Should by Leslie_Knope Mature | 51.5k Eddie caught sight of the man leaning against the side of his desk and immediately wanted to retreat to the relative safety of the hallway, back in time when he lived happily not knowing that Mr. Buckley was apparently some kind of male model masquerading as a third-grade teacher.

it walks with my legs (to fall at your feet) by Underhung_Aura / @eddiebabygirldiaz Explicit | 61.8k a buddie summer sons au where buck and eddie get caught up in something bigger than themselves and awaken a power that haunts them for the rest of their lives; however, the unspoken truths and love between them haunts them more than any ghost ever could.

a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum / @woodchoc-magnum Explicit | 117k Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Explicit | 120k Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15) Month 4 (August 16 - September 15) Month 5 (September 16 - October 15) Month 6 (October 16 - November 15) Month 7 (November 16 - December 15)

[dameronology]

couples therapy (frank castle)

summary: you go to couple's therapy with frank castle. it's just as terrible as you can imagine.

warnings: so much language. at least 10 f-bombs.

enjoy xx

Couples therapy felt like a stupid fucking idea, to be honest.

There was only three feet between you and Frank; you wanted to be closer but at the same time, you wanted to drop kick his loud-talking, argumentative, defensive ass to the other side of the city. No, scratch that. The country, or maybe even world. Somewhere far enough so that you didn't have to look at his stupid face but somewhere close enough that you could still reach out for him in the night. Somewhere far enough so that you couldn't hear that gravelly voice that made your skin crawl, but somewhere close enough so that he could still whisper horny sweet nothings in your ear.

And it was thoughts like that that made you realise why you were here.

There had been a few weeks of tension; that had grown into two months of shit bubbling under the surface. You were mad at him. He was mad at you. You couldn't bring it up because he'd accuse you of overreacting and he couldn't bring it up because even before all the PTSD-causing-crap he'd lived through, Frank was shit at coming to terms with how he felt about things. Vocalising his emotions wasn't his strongpoint. Revenge and killing was. So, safe to say that this was his personal form of hell. Anyways. That shit had hit the fan eventually and now it was splattered all over the room and it was covering you both and no matter how many metaphorical showers you took, nothing would fix this except the clean slate that emotional catharsis would bring you.

Maybe you'd break up. Maybe you'd stay together. Maybe it was all up to the gaunt, old man in the chair opposite you who reminded you a little too much of John Kramer and was draining $50 an hour from your bank right now. Did they do Groupons for couples therapy?

"So," he began. His name was Doctor Richards. He was a little too quiet for your liking. "Tell me...why are you here?"

Frank let out a gruff laugh. "Isn't that what you're here to tell us, Doc?"

"No, actually," he shook his head. "You explain your problems to me and I'll give you reasonable solutions to try and fix those problems."

There was a moment of silence, and Doctor Richards glanced at you.

"Is he always this defensive?"

It was your turn to laugh now.

"Uhhh, not always," you replied. "Not with me, at least. More so with other people."

"So he's more open with you?" the doctor raised his eyebrows, but then glanced between you. "Emotional vulnerability is a good sign. A sign of life - of course, unless, this has changed over the course of your relationship."

"It hasn't," Frank firmly said. "I laid myself bare the day we met. That hasn't changed."

"He's right," you nodded. "I just...I think you have a hard time articulating your feelings, Frank. Sometimes when you do open up to me, it turns into an argument."

"That's bullshit," Frank muttered.

You cleared your throat and turned to look back at your relationship saviour. "We're here because we argue too fucking much, doc. If I say nothing, he gets mad. If I respond, I'm overreacting-"

"- because you do overreact!" he interrupted you.

"Maybe because you never let me fucking talking talk!" you snapped.

"Guys!" Richards cut you both off. "This is a safe space and I'm going to give you both a chance to talk. That's how you get to the bottom of things."

You glanced at Frank. "Can I go first?"

"Yes."

Shuffling uncomfortably in your seat, you glanced down at your hands and cleared your throat. There was so much on your mind but a complete disconnect between your brain and your mouth; translating your thoughts into feelings was hard at the best of times, but even harder under pressure. You didn't want to say something to upset Frank, even less to hurt him.

"I..." you trailed off. "I've always been someone who likes to talk about things, you know? I like to communicate, especially with the people I love, so I'm always open when something upsets me or doesn't feel right. Conversation is important to me but I think you're different, Frank. You like to think and not feel and when you refuse to talk to me about shit, it hurts. It's like you can open up to me about all your feelings except the ones about me and in my mind,. those are the most important ones."

Frank didn't respond; he just looked at you.

"For someone that chats so much shit, you sure seem to keep quiet on a lot of things," you continued, voice dropping to a murmur now. "I'm not overreacting when I respond the way I do. It's just fucking frustrating."

He looked away, brown eyes staring blankly at the wall behind Richards for a moment. That was the first time in the better part of three years that you's actually seen Frank quiet.

(Save for when he was sleeping, and the time he almost died in the middle of your living room).

"I like to keep certain things quiet," Frank finally spoke. His eyes flickered from the wall, down to your new therapist. "I work a night job, doc. It gets stressful. I deal with some heavy shit."

"It's an overused saying, but a problem halved is a problem shared," Richards replied. "You have a partner who is willing to listen. One who I assume knows their threshold, and would tell you if sharing it was too much."

"He's right," you said. "When you shut me out and bottle it up, it builds up, and then you get shitty with me and it manifests itself in every part of your life. Of our lives. Because we're intertwined as shit, Frank, and you can't pick and choose what parts you share with me."

Frank sniffed. "Well, hell. Look at us breaking ground."

"A lot of people come into couple therapy assuming it means their relationship is over," Richards said. "That's almost never the case. It shows you're both willing to work on it."

Your eyes fell to the floor for a moment. Frank had been strangely willing to come here; it wasn't something you'd thought about too much before now, but his willingness felt like hope to you. This time a few years ago, he would have walked away at the first sign of trouble. Now he wanted to take your hand and walk towards it.

"I can't tell you about all your problems based entirely on this conversation, but I can...I can share some introspection from a third party perspective," Richards said. "Frank, you have a partner whose willing to listen, but...maybe they go about saying it in the wrong way. Maybe it feels forced, or like they're not letting you do it on their own terms."

"I guess," Frank murmured. "What if I don't want to share? What if...what if I just want to protect them from all this dark shit?"

"You can choose what you share," he replied. "But if you choose not to share, you have to communicate that."

--

The apartment was tense when you and Frank got back. It had been a tense two hours; talks of communication and honesty, of sharing your lives and being partners. It had been okay for the first hour, but as soon as you hit the second you felt like you'd kind of gotten the point. You and Frank weren't the worst couple in the world, and couple therapy was fucking boring. That had been your main take away.

You threw your keys on the side, dumping your jacket as you entered the flat. Everything was as you left it; washing up from breakfast in the sink, pile of boots by the door, a letter pinned on your notice board about an increase in rent. All things that were headaches in themselves, but simply just contributing factors to a bigger, ongoing migraine. Frank was behind you, dragging his feet and huffing.

"Something you want to share, Frankie?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

"That felt like bullshit."

You snorted. "I felt like I was being listened to for the first time in months. Maybe that speaks volumes."

"Oh, come on," he rolled his eyes. "How are we leavin' couples therapy and you're already having a go at me?"

"Sorry," you murmured. "Honestly, Frank, I'm just fucking frustrated. I've said all I need to say but...whether or not you wanna listen and actually work on it is what counts."

"Are you dumb?" Frank asked, but quickly regretted his choice of words. "Shit. Baby, I'm sorry - I didn't mean it like that-"

"- how the fuck did you mean it then, Franklin?"

He paused, holding his hands out for a moment. "I just sat in a cramped room with some Jigsaw lookin' motherfucker for the better part of two hours, listening to you complain - rightfully so, don't get me wrong - and tryna take notes on how I can be a better partner to you. Maybe it's not obvious, and maybe it won't be for hot a fuckin' minute, not until I've got my ducks in a line, or just shot em all, but just...I will try, okay? I need you to be patient with me but..."

Frank took your hand, placing your palm on his chest. He covered it with his own large one, tangling your fingers together and pausing for a moment.

"I need patience...please?"

You nodded, letting him squeeze your hand. "Yeah. Shit, Frankie, I'm sorry. I love you."

He smiled. "I love you too."

"We'll be okay, won't we?"

"Of course we will."