#also I've finally decided to keep his hair down/natural

[chibifox2002]

Okay here's the ideas I got 4 Man-Man

(plus a scar layout for his arms and leg)

(also shout-out to @cosmicwhoreo for idea 2)

I'm actually thinking about putting idea 2 on Manny's back while idea 1 is on his arms!

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You�� You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ take a seat ] q. hughes

day 3 of kinktober (face sitting w/ quinn hughes)

paring : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Quinn grows a playoff beard and his girlfriend loves it. the day he decides to shave it after the Canucks get eliminated, she tells him how she really feels about it and Quinn gives her the moment she’s been wanting since he started growing it before he shaves it

warning(s) : smut ! face sitting / riding, oral (f receiving), fingering

author’s note : been waiting to write this one hehe. it’s on the shorter side but i hope y'all enjoy anyway

kinktober schedule

༺──────────────༻

The playoffs have treated her and Quinn so well. Quinn because he got to captain the Canucks to the second round after a short 3 year playoff drought. Her because Quinn grew a playoff beard over the past month or so and she's barely managed to keep her hands off of him while he was playing.

She loves everything about the playoffs, but especially the fact that Quinn hasn’t shaved in a few weeks. He looks so good with longer facial hair and she loves the way it tickles her lip when he kisses her. She kinda just wants him to go down on her for as long as possible to feel it against her core.

The thought of Quinn eating her out with the beard is enough to soak her. The feeling of his beard on her core is something she thinks about an unhealthy number of times over the course of three weeks. She’s gotten off multiple times just at the thought alone, especially when he's away playing in Nashville and Edmonton. She’s wouldn’t know what to do if it happened.

But the Canucks were eliminated by Edmonton last night so it’s time for Quinn to shave off the beard he has spent the past few weeks growing. He doesn't do it the day after their season ends because he wants to just lay around and have the laziest day ever, so she gets an extra day to admire him.

The morning of the day Quinn wants to shave his beard though, she wakes up before he does. He stopped setting alarms once the Canucks got eliminated two nights ago but she is naturally an early riser. She doesn't dare move because part of Quinn's morning routine is shaving. If she moves and wakes him up, he's going to go shave and that's the last thing she wants right now.

She softly sighs as morning Vancouver sun creates a muted orange glow throughout the room. Quinn already looks so good and he's not even awake yet.

All because of that stupid beard he grew.

Quinn begins to stir moments after she wakes. His eyes flutter open and look bright in the morning sunlight.

"It's creepy to stare at people while they sleep, baby," he tells her, his voice slurred since he just woke up. Also kind of raspy, which she loves.

"Not my fault you look pretty all the time," she replies. "I also just woke up a few minutes ago so give me a break. I wanted to admire my boyfriend before he woke up and started making comments that ruined the whole vibe."

He groans and rubs his face. He touches his facial hair and hums. "I gotta go get rid of this mess," he says. "Then you can admire me all you want, okay?"

Her eyes widen and Quinn begins to move to get out of bed. She quickly grabs his arm to stop him from getting any further.

"I like that mess," she finally admits to him. He turns back around and looks at her. She begins to talk before her brain can catch up to what she's saying. "I mean, you look really hot with that mess on your face. Except, I don't think it's a mess. I wish you wouldn't run off and shave it first chance you get."

Quinn blinks at her slowly like he's processing what she said to him. A smile grows on his lips and she presses her lips into a line.

"Come here," Quinn tells her as he lays back down. She blinks at him, confused. "I know you've thought about it. I've seen the way that you would look at me then excuse yourself to go use the bathroom." She feels her face get hot in embarrassment. She thought she was more subtle than she actually was.

She plays with her fingers while she watches Quinn get comfortable. "Quinn, I-"

"Come take a seat, pretty girl," he interrupts as he runs his fingers over his beard. "Sit on and ride my face. I know you want to so I am giving you what you want before I go shave."

Who is she to say no to him? He's offering so she might as well take it.

Without anymore hesitation, she moves so she's kneeling above his face with her knees on the pillow on either side of his head. Lucky for her, she's only wearing one of Quinn's Canucks t-shirts and a pair of underwear. Nothing else.

Quinn kisses the inside of her thigh right by her core while he pushes the fabric of the t-shirt up. She hums softly as her body finally begins to wake up. She feels the gentle scratch of his facial hair on her skin and she gnaws on her bottom lip. "Oh my God," she sighs.

"I haven't even done anything yet," Quinn laughs.

"Shut up and do something then," she retorts. "Please, Quinn." She's not above begging at this point.

He licks a stripe over her panties, which are soaked by now. Like she said, the thought alone makes her drip. His finger follows his tongue and she hums. Quinn pushes the fabric to the side and runs a finger through her soaked folds. She bites down on her bottom lip to keep from making any loud noises since it is morning and their neighbors are probably still sleeping.

She grabs onto the headboard above Quinn's head as he runs his tongue through her folds. "Fuck, Quinn!" She cries out. "Oh my God."

The feeling of the gentle scratch of his facial hair is almost too much for her. Quinn wraps his lips around her clit and hums, sending a shock through her body. It almost jumpstarts her own movements as she begins to roll her hips.

"That's it, baby," Quinn says against her core. "Take what you want."

His hands rest on her waist and he pulls her down so she's completely sitting on his face but he's still able to breathe. His tongue continues to run through her folds as she rolls her hips. Her core grinds across his face and she feels the scratch of his facial hair with each movement. She welcomes the new feeling. It only adds to her pleasure despite the beard burn she'll probably have when all this is over.

Quinn hums every so often, and she groans with every hum. Her grip on the headboard gets stronger the longer she moves. She's almost afraid that she'll lose her balance despite his hands keeping her from falling.

One of his hands slides up under the loose t-shirt and cups her breast. She throws her head back and lets out a borderline pornographic moan as she continues to ride Quinn's face. One of her hands flies to Quinn's messy hair, fingers finding a home.

He slides his other hand so his thumb can access her clit. He rubs the sensitive nub while continuing to run his tongue though her folds with each movement. "Oh my fucking- Quinn," she cries out. "Holy-"

"Look so pretty riding my face, pretty girl," Quinn mumbles. His words shoot straight to her core. "Fuck."

His thumb moves and slides into her. She gasps and her movement falters for a second while she recovers from the addition. "Quinn," she groans, holding the 'N' sound.

Between his tongue, his thumb, and his facial hair, she's not sure how she hasn't come all over his face by now. Her legs are shaking so she has to stop moving, but Quinn completely takes over despite being under her.

He speeds up his thumb for a second before switching fingers, using his pointer and middle fingers instead. She welcomes the familiar stretch.

His fingers and tongue are enough to bring her to the edge. She's white-knuckling the headboard with one hand while her other hand remains in Quinn's hair.

"Gonna come," she pants. "Quinn. I'm close."

"Told you to take what you want," Quinn replies. "So take what you want."

Quinn speeds up his fingers and curls them in a 'come here' motion. The gentle scratch of his facial hair turns less gentle as he speeds up his tongue movements, but she still loves it.

She throws her head back and cries out his name as she comes. She involuntarily rolls her own hips so her core grinds against his face again. Her fingers curl in his locks so she has something to hold on to as she reaches her climax. She loses her vision for half a second because of how hard her orgasm hits her.

Her body turns to jelly as she recovers. With Quinn's help, she's able to lie back down beside him. Her breathing is labored and she stares up at the ceiling, unable to move to look at her boyfriend.

All this morning showed her is that Quinn needs to grow out his facial hair more often because it made her come harder than she ever has before. She can't move for about ten minutes after her orgasm.

When she's fully conscious again, she looks over at Quinn. He didn't go and shave yet.

"I think I'm going to keep this for another day or two," he tells her. "Just for you. That is going to happen a few more times before it goes away."

She smiles and rolls so she can touch his face. "I'm going to need you to grow it out like this again soon because holy shit, Quinn," she giggles. "So hot. Felt so good."

Quinn matches her smile. "Maybe over the summer," he tells her. "No promises though."

"Gonna need my favorite seat back at some point."

"Next year when we make playoffs against for sure."

༺──────────────༻

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[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[emmylksblog]

Hey I love your stories and account

I wanted to ask if you could do a Hector fort x fem reader story

The reader is Marc guiu‘s sister and she mets hector fort for the first time at an after party (party for winning a match) and then you can come up with something I’m not that creative😭

DANCING DESIRES // H.FORT

requested

content: suggestive, smut

warnings: bad written smut

words: 3613

a/n: sorry for being so late, i got writers block and also tried to figure out how to write smut, hope it’s not that lame 😭

The party is hot and cramped. You push through drunk bodies sweating through clothes and perfume. You don't like parties, but you're here because your brother was insistent that you came here.

Suddenly, someone grabs your hand, yanking you to the side. You turn around, coming face-to-face with Hector Fort. Your brother's teammate and best friend.

His eyes are dark and intense as they lock onto yours, and his grip is firm. "What are you doing here by yourself?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth.

You scan his face, noticing the slightly off-balance nature and the smell of alcohol on his breath. Yep, he's definitely had a few too many drinks.

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual. He’s very handsome, with his tousled hair and his intense gaze. Focus, you think to yourself.

"Me? I'm just enjoying a drink after my game," he says, a sly smile playing at the corner of his lips. "But I couldn't help noticing you alone over here. Te ves un poco perdida. (You look a little lost)"

You roll your eyes, feeling a flush of annoyance. "I'm not lost. I'm just here against my will, watching out for my idiot brother. He's somewhere around here, getting drunk off his ass."

Hector chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, so you're the responsible one. That's a shame, I was hoping for some fun tonight."

"Yeah well, somebody has to be responsible," you say, unable to help feeling a spark of attraction to his confident arrogance. Bad idea, very bad idea, you should just walk away, you think to yourself.

Hector leans in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Come on, lighten up a little. I bet you can be fun when you want to be," he says, his voice low and seductive.

You scoff, trying to act unphased by his charm. "Oh please, I've seen your type before. I bet you've got a dozen girls eating out of the palm of your hand at every party you go to."

He grins, unashamed. "And yet here I am, wanting to talk to you." He steps closer, invading her personal space. "There's just something about you that's different. I can't quite put my finger on it."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "That was the most cliché line I've ever heard. Do you use that with every girl you meet?"

Hector laughs, not seeming bothered by your bluntness, if anything it only seems to intrigue him more. "I don't need pickup lines to get girls. But I was hoping it would work on you," he says with a coy smile.

You roll your eyes again and shake your head. "As if. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that."

His smile widens, his eyes lighting up with a challenge. "Oh yeah? And what do I get if I prove to you that I'm serious?"

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "You first have to prove to me why I even should give you my time."

Hector steps closer still, now only a breath away. His voice drops to a low, seductive murmur. "Because you're the most beautiful, captivating woman in this entire room. And I can't take my eyes off of you."

Your heart jumps in your chest, caught off guard by his directness. You try to stay cool, but you can't help the hint of a flush rising to your cheeks. "That's a start. But you're going to have to do better than flattery."

Hector grins, loving the fact that he's gotten a reaction out of her. "Then how about I show you instead? Come dance with me."

You hesitate for a moment, caught between wanting to shut him down and secretly wanting to see where this goes. Finally, you decide to throw caution to the wind. "Fine. One dance."

He grins triumphantly and takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. The music is loud and the air is thick with bodies grinding together. Hector pulls you close to him, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Suddenly interrupting the rhythm of your dance your brother Marc emerges from the crowd.

Marc's eyes flick between the two of you, his expression changing from surprise to irritation. "Qué estás haciendo con ella? (what are you doing with her?) " he asks Hector, his voice low and protective.

Hector grins sheepishly, clearly trying to avoid causing a scene. "Calm down, Marc. I was just having a chat with your pretty sister here."

Marc's eyes narrow as he steps closer to the two of you. "Yeah, I can see that. But why do you have your hands all over her?"

"Marc, relájate. Todo está bien. (, relax. Everything's alright) Hector's just had a bit too much to drink," you say, trying to calm your overprotective brother down.

Marc looks at Hector skeptically, but he seems to relax a little at your words. "Are you sure? You don't want me to kick his ass?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head at your overprotective brother. "Marc, eres muy ridículo a veces. Hector está borracho y solo estaba hablando conmigo. Además, él todavía es tu mejor amigo, ¿no es así?" ("Marc, you are very ridiculous sometimes. Hector is drunk and was just talking to me. Besides, he is still your best friend, isn't he?")

Marc huffs, still not fully convinced. "Yeah, he's my best friend. But you're my sister, and I don't like seeing him putting his hands all over you."

You can't help but laugh at your brother's protectiveness. "Marc, I can handle myself, you know that. I'm not some fragile little flower. Besides, Hector's harmless."

Hector chuckles, clearly enjoying the dynamic between you and your brother. "Yeah, I'm harmless. And I have to say, your sister here is quite feisty. You should give her more credit."

Marc looks at Hector and then at you, his gaze softening. "Fine, I'll back off. But if you do anything to hurt her, I will kick your ass. Got it?"

Hector holds up his hands in surrender, his expression mock-serious. "Understood, boss. I promise I'll behave."

Marc gives Hector a firm tap on the shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. Though you can't hear what he's saying, you see Hector's expression soften, and he nods at whatever your brother had said. Marc then shoots you a final protective look before disappearing into the crowd.

"What did he say to you?" you ask Hector curiously, wondering what your brother could have said that made him look so unusually serious.

You can't help but think about how protective your brother had acted just now, wondering what it was that made him so adamant that you not spend time with Hector. He must think I'm not capable of handling myself, you think to yourself, annoyance prickling up your spine.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Hector says suddenly, breaking the thread of your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, surprised. "And what am I thinking, listo (smartass)?"

Hector grins at your sassiness. "You're thinking that your brother is too protective, and you're wondering why he's so against the idea of us getting to know each other."

You frown, not liking how accurately he had guessed your thoughts. "And if I am? So what?"

He leans in closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If you want to know the truth, I think I know why he's so protective."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of you. "Oh yeah? And what's the reason behind my brother's overprotectiveness?

Hector grins, clearly enjoying having your full attention. "Promise you won't get mad if I tell you?"

You huff, already getting a sense of what he's going to say. "I can't guarantee that. But go on, tell me anyway."

Hector leans in even closer, his voice low and intimate. "I think it's because your brother knows me better than almost anyone. And he knows that I have a bit of a reputation for being a heartbreaker."

You look him straight in the eye, not intimidated. "Is that so? You think you can break my heart that easily?"

Hector chuckles, clearly enjoying your confidence. "I didn't say I could, I just said that's what your brother thinks. But let's be real, I could probably have you begging for more within a week if I wanted to."

Feeling emboldened, you step closer to Hector and whisper in his ear, your voice low and sultry. "Bold of you to assume you could break my heart. But if you think you're up to the challenge, I bet I could have you begging for more before the night is through."

Hector's eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting your forwardness. The challenge has been issued, and he can't back down now. "Is that so? You think you could have me wrapped around your little finger that easily?"

You grin, enjoying the flicker of doubt you see in his eyes. "Oh, I know I could. But the question is, are you brave enough to take the bet?"

Hector's gaze heats up with a mix of desire and caution. "I don't back down from a challenge. But you better bring your A-game if you think you can tame me so easily."

You lean in closer, your breath tickling his ear. "Oh, don't worry. I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Feeling a sense of victory, you decide it's time to start playing your game. You press closer to Hector, your body almost flush against his. You tilt your head, allowing your lips to brush against his ear as you speak. "Here's how this is going to play out. We're going to dance, and every now and then, I'm going to touch you in a way that you wouldn't expect."

Hector shivers, the sensation of your lips against his ear sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. "And what happens if I can't handle it?" he asks, his voice hoarse with anticipation.

You chuckle, enjoying how quickly he's unraveling under your touch. "If you can't handle it, then I win," you reply smoothly. "But be warned, I don't play fair."

Hector grins, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Good. I like a little bit of chaos."

He pulls you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to lead you in a slow, sultry dance. His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

True to your word, you begin to make your moves. Every now and then, you'll brush against his body in a way that's just a little bit more than innocent. You'll lean in to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing against his jawline. You'll let your fingertips trail lightly down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

Hector is struggling to maintain his composure. Every touch, every move you make is driving him crazier than the last. He tries to focus on breathing, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. The desire to take control of the situation is growing stronger, but he's determined not to let you win so easily.

Hector is clearly not one to be outdone. As the dance continues, his own touches become more intentional and deliberate. His hands slide from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers dance along the edge of your clothing, occasionally skimming across bare skin. He bends his head, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers words that are more than a little provocative.

Each touch from him only fans the flames of desire further. You can feel the heat emanating from his body as his movements become more assertive. He pulls you against him tightly, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it difficult to think straight. His lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak.

Seeing that Hector is starting to gain the upper hand, you silently acknowledge that it's time to up the ante. As you continue to dance, you decide to pull out your "ace in the sleeve". You angle your body so that your back is against his chest, and then you roll your hips against him in a slow, seductive movement.

Hector lets out a sharp intake of breath as your body grinds against his, the action taking him by surprise. His hands on your hips suddenly grip tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to maintain his composure. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as his breathing quickens, an obvious sign that he's losing the game.

Emboldened by his reaction, you continue to move against him, enjoying the effect you're having on him. You let your head fall back, exposing your neck to his gaze, and you know he's completely lost. He's too wrapped up in the sensations you're creating to resist anymore.

Hector loses all self-control, the desire to have you all to himself taking over. He snatches your hand and pulls you away from the dance floor, leading you through the crowd and towards a secluded area.

Hector drags you into a private bathroom, the sound of the music muted as soon as the door closes behind you. He pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours in a way that's both possessive and desperate.

He doesn't say a word, instead his mouth crashing down on yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands begin to roam, exploring every inch of your body with an intensity that's almost primal.

Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the sudden whirlwind of sensation. Hector's kisses are greedy and relentless, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to get closer, to claim every inch of you.

He lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you across the room. He deposits you on the edge of the sink, his body wedged in between your thighs. His kisses trail down your neck, his teeth nipping and biting at your skin as he presses himself even closer.

Hector's hands move impatient to remove any barriers between you. He pulls the dress over your head, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in only a bra.

He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing over the skin of your chest, his gaze dark with desire. "Eres aún más hermosa de lo que imaginé." ("You're even more beautiful than I imagined.")

Your hands are just as eager, tugging off his shirt and exploring the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Your fingers trail along the ridges of his muscles, relishing the feel of his skin against yours.

He growls lowly, the sensation of your touch driving him even wilder. He pulls you back against him, his mouth finding your neck once more. His hands move to your back, deftly unclasping your bra.

The garment falls away, and his lips move lower, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your chest. He worships your body with his mouth, his hands roaming every inch of you as he feasts on your skin.

Hector's lips and hands continue to roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His kisses become more demanding as he continues to taste your skin, his fingertips tracing light, teasing patterns on your flesh. He whispers your name, his voice deep and rough with desire.

"Me estás volviendo loco," ("You're driving me crazy,") he says, his lips against your ear. "I want you so badly, I can hardly stand it."

Your hands tangle in his hair, holding on as he worships your body with his mouth. You can feel the heat of his skin against yours, the muscles of his chest rippling under your touch. You arch against him, wanting more, needing more.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the sink. His mouth moves down the center of your chest, his tongue trailing a path of kisses down to the hollow of your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his voice a growl.

"Tell me you want me," he says, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat, the raw hunger in his eyes setting your body aflame. You pull him back up to your face, your hands framing his face.

"I want you," you murmur, your voice low and sultry. "I want you so badly, it's almost painful."

Hector growls again, the sound primal and feral. He captures your lips in a savage kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he presses himself flush against you. You can feel the proof of his desire, hard and demanding, against your hip.

Growling against your lips, he devours you in a hungry kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. His grip on you tightens, as if he's scared to let you go. His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his erection against your hip with an insistent need. Fuck...

Your mind is a haze of lust and need, your body burning for his touch. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, trying to get as much contact as possible. Your hands roam over his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving marks that will leave a delicious reminder tomorrow.

His body tenses, a moan escaping his throat as he starts rocking his hips, rubbing his erection against your heat. Fuck... He grunts, his hands groping at your body in desperate need.

The feeling of you tightening around him brings Hector to the edge. He groans as he reaches his release, letting out a deep, visceral sound as he pushes himself deeper into you. His muscles tense and his head falls forward, resting against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

You hold onto him, your body continuing to feel the aftershocks of your own release. Hector's weight presses you against the sink, his body still trembling with the aftermath of pleasure.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there that you've never seen before, a raw honesty that makes your heart flutter.

He strokes your cheek, tracing his thumb over your lips. "You're amazing," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You reach up and touch his face, wanting to return the tender gesture. "Neither have I," you murmur, your voice filled with a mix of wonder and awe.

Hector leans in and kisses you again, this time it's gentle and slow. It's a kiss that's laced with affection and tenderness, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of moments ago.

He lifts you from the edge of the sink, setting you gently on the ground. He gazes at you, his eyes roaming over your still-trembling body. "We should probably fix ourselves before someone comes looking for us," he says with a soft chuckle.

You nod, knowing that he's right. You quickly pick up your discarded clothes and begin to get dressed, your movements a bit shaky from the intensity of the moment. Hector helps you, gently pulling your arms into the sleeves and zipping your dress.

Once you're both presentable, Hector glances at the mirror and runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. He looks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, we didn't get to finish our dance."

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're right, we didn't. Is that your way of asking me for a second dance?"

Hector grins, the cocky smirk returning to his face. "What if it is? Are you going to turn me down?"

You shake your head, a hint of regret in your expression. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't. My brother will start to get suspicious if we disappear for too long."

Hector's expression falls a bit, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Ah, right. Your brother." He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "I guess we'll have to save the second dance for another night then."

You give him a soft smile, trying to reassure him. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find another opportunity. Plus, it gives us something to look forward to, right?"

Hector grins again, the disappointment replaced with a hint of excitement. "You're right. Something to look forward to." He reaches out and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the gentle gesture. "Just so you know, I expect some fancy footwork next time," you tease, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Hector chuckles, that cocky smirk returning to his face. "My footwork is always fancy, darling. You're the one who's going to have a hard time keeping up with me."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Is that a challenge? Because I might surprise you with my own dancing skills."

Hector laughs, pulling you closer to him. "It's a promise. Next time, we'll dance until the sun comes up."

He gazes at you for a moment, seeming to memorize every detail of your face. Then, he reluctantly releases you. "We should really go back now before your brother starts questioning our absence."

Hector and you make one last check in the mirror, ensuring that you're both presentable. Then, he opens the door and leads you back into the ballroom, where the music and laughter of the other guests envelop you once more.

The rest of the night is spent dancing, drinking, and chatting with friends. However, throughout the evening, you can't help but feel the heat of Hector's gaze on you, and the promise of a second dance hanging in the air between you.

[bobohu4eva]

Illicit Affairs

Characters: Idol!Baekhyun x trainee/idol!Reader

Genre: smut, angst

Warnings: explicit unprotected sex, virgin sex, significant age gap, problematic relationship dynamics, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way representative of a healthy relationship

WC: 9.7k (trust me it needed to be that long)

A/N: Heavily inspired by the song, although the forbidden nature of the relationship is interpreted more as dealing with the age difference and dynamic, rather than being a result of infidelity. I definitely recommend giving it a listen before reading further.

Masterlist

He was one of the last people you met after becoming a trainee, but he was the one you'd been thinking about meeting the most. 

Baekhyun was the reason you decided to become a singer. He was the person that made you fall in love with music and singing ten years ago, so when you finally bumped into him in person, it left you breathless and flustered. 

He was even more gorgeous than you could've expected, and you'd already met many other idols by then. You'd been waiting for your vocal lesson one evening, and he was the person who went right before you. When his lesson ended, he walked out of the soundproof room, and he was standing right in front of you. 

The image of him you'd always had in your mind, based on the countless pictures and videos you'd seen of him throughout the years, couldn't compare at all. With him directly before you, in person, he looked so much better than you ever could've imagined. He was just wearing a black tshirt and sweats, no makeup, hair unstyled and even a bit messy, but you still had to fight off the urge to stare. He was quite a bit taller than you, and you could see the muscle definition in his chest and arms under the plain black shirt. Everything about him was just so perfectly shaped, to you. From his familiar but still somehow surprisingly handsome face, to his broad shoulders, down to his waist and hips. If you found him attractive before meeting him in person, you were down badly now. 

It was so natural and sweet how he greeted you, asking if you were new, and wishing you the best for your trainee journey. Of course you thanked him, but he could easily see how much the sudden meeting had shaken you up, so he kept it brief. 

From then on, you saw him there every week before your lesson, and found yourself looking forward to it every time. The greetings became short conversations, and eventually you even told him how he'd been the one to inspire you back in the day to also be a singer and eventually audition. You would never forget how those words made his face light up. 

“Really? Back then I had no idea what I was doing, I'm still surprised by how much people seemed to like me. It means a lot to hear that.” 

He had one of those special kinds of smiles that you only see a few times in your life. It made you feel seen, appreciated, like to him, you were the only other person that mattered. He had that kind of energy about him. 

All you could think to do was blush and smile back. Being around him was almost like some sort of high to you, the way your heart pounded and you got butterflies in your stomach.   

Finally your voice teacher popped his head out the door, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I've got a bit of a cold. We'll keep it short today.” 

Without missing a beat, Baekhyun spoke up. “If you need to take the night off I can take over her lesson.” He turned towards you, “Would you be okay with that?” 

Your eyes grew wide and your mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you just nodded. 

“You sure?” The teacher said, “That would be great, thank you.” 

“Of course, it's already pretty late, you should get some rest.” 

So, you were left with Baekhyun teaching your lesson for the evening. You were still dumbfounded as he led you back into the small soundproof room, and asked what you had learned in last week's lesson. 

You answered him, though it was barely above a whisper. Having him teaching you all of the sudden was not something you were mentally prepared for. 

However he still understood, and started leading you through some warm ups.

To say that you were blushing, embarrassed, mortified, or anything similar still felt like an understatement. Warm ups just aren't cute.They felt silly and sounded dumb and the idea of doing them in front of Baekhyun of all people made you want to curl up into a tiny ball and become one with the carpet on the floor. 

Of course Baekhyun quickly caught on to that. “How about we do them together? I'll start, and you just match me, ok?”  

His voice concealed your own enough to ease your mind a bit, but soon he was asking you to sing on your own, without his voice to hide behind. 

You could barely get out a sound, let alone properly sing a simple scale. It was frustrating beyond belief, you knew you were a good singer, and you were incredibly lucky to have him offer to teach you, but your shyness still got the best of you. Trying to do anything while his eyes were on you felt impossible. 

Baekhyun was starting to regret offering to do the lesson, not because he didn't want to, but because he felt he was making you uncomfortable. He loved the idea of mentoring a trainee, helping them develop their skills and getting to see them debut with his encouragement, it had even been a dream of his. Of course this was only one vocal lesson, but it was something he'd been thinking about for a while, and this seemed like a great opportunity, at least at first. But he knew he couldn't force it, and he didn't want to hold you back either.

“I'm sorry, I didn't really think this through. Should we call it a night?” He asked, and you felt your heart sink. The disappointment evident on your face must've told him that you weren't quite ready to give up yet, so he made you an offer. 

“What if I face the wall, and you close your eyes, just imagine I'm not here and you're practicing by yourself. Just so I can hear you and get a better idea for what we should work on.”

You took a deep breath. He was just another person, and he was here because he wanted to help you. 

When you nodded, he smiled, ready to give it your best shot before he turned away, facing the corner of the room. 

It actually came out sounding okay that time, so you repeated it again for good measure. 

When you opened your eyes Baekhyun was looking your way again, with a proud smile on his face.

He had you repeat it a few more times, reassuring you every time that you were doing well, and for you, just seeing him smiling and praising you was enough to keep you going. 

With you finally past your mental block, he was able to get an idea of where you were at, and both of you were surprised to see how quickly two hours went by. He still kept things simple, not wanting to overwhelm you or make you shy again, but it was going amazingly well and he found himself almost as excited about it as you, if not even more. 

With the lesson finally over, he offered to drive you back to your dorm on his way home, and you happily accepted. When he led you to his car, a silver Porsche, you let out a small laugh in disbelief. Baekhyun just smiled, making a little extra show out of opening the door for you, before circling around to get in himself. You stayed quiet, just listening to him softly sing along to the music he'd put on until it was time for him to drop you off. Part of you was still in disbelief, that you'd really spent the last few hours with him, and now, you were next to him in his car as he drove you home. When he pulled up to your dorm, he wished you a good night, and didn't move until he saw you enter the building safely. As you laid in bed that night you replayed it all in your mind, smiling like a fool at how heart fluttering it all was. For the first time, you couldn’t fall asleep because your reality was somehow even better than what you could dream up. 

One week later, when you arrived for your lesson again, you were surprised when Baekhyun and your original teacher said they wanted to discuss something with you. 

“How would you feel about having your vocal lessons with me from now on?” Baekhyun asked. 

They saw the surprise on your face, your first teacher nodding at what Baekhyun had said. 

“Wow, I mean, are you sure? It's an honor, of course, but, why..?” 

“Teaching is something I've been thinking a lot about lately and I really enjoyed our lesson last week. It's up to you, of course, but if you'd be interested then I'd love to be your new voice teacher.” 

You laughed, mostly in disbelief. It felt too good to be true. Baekhyun was someone you'd looked up to for so long, and now he was happily offering to personally help you with your singing. 

“You really mean that?” 

He was still smiling in that almost frustratingly captivating way, nodding at your question. “So should we get started?” 

Unlike the week prior you had a bit more confidence this time around, and both you and him thoroughly enjoyed the lesson. Every week that followed your voice grew even bolder, as you got more used to being around him. You got less nervous to see him, moreso happy and excited to get to sing with him, and having him as your teacher made you all the more dedicated to doing your absolute best. 

Soon you started to ask him about other things, too. First it was dancing, asking his advice for how to memorize choreographies more easily. Then, how to talk to the media, or how to pose for photo shoots. Within a few months Baekhyun was much more than just the voice teacher you saw once a week. He helped you with basically every aspect of becoming a successful idol, he became a mentor to you. 

You could never fully get used to it, to having him in your life in such a close way. Your heart would still flutter when he showed you that amazing smile of his, and you still refused to slack off on your vocals or dancing, because you wanted to impress him, but mostly because you’d get to see that very smile. He was every bit as lovely and charming as you’d always imagined he would be, and you fell hard for him, he made it impossible for you not to. With how sweet he was to you, it sometimes seemed like he might actually like you, as more than a student, but those were thoughts you pushed away, knowing realistically that a relationship with him was nothing more than a fantasy. 

It was only six months into being a trainee that you were told you would debut, and you knew that you had him to thank for it. Another few months later the day came, and it was time for you to perform with your group for the first time. 

As soon as you stepped off stage, out of the view of the cameras, you lost it. The tears weren't because you felt sad or disappointed, simply overwhelmed. You knew you'd done well, really well in fact. Your career had officially begun, and the weight of it came down on you all at once, leaving you with little to do but sit in your dressing room in disbelief.

There was a soft knock on the door, and next thing you knew Baekhyun’s head was peeking in, and you weren't sure you'd ever seen him smile that big before. 

Without as much as a second of hesitation, you ran to the door, pulling him inside. As the door shut behind him, his arms wrapped around you.

His praises almost went unheard, still too overwhelmed by everything to fully listen to what he was saying, but you could tell he was happy, that he thought you'd done really well. 

It wasn't long until his arms broke away, hands still on your shoulders as he looked at you, smiling that amazing smile of his. With him looking at you like that, telling you how well you'd done, how proud he was, how happy he was to be your mentor, your emotions ran wild. It was everything, the adrenaline, relief, euphoria, and just him. 

His eyes were still on your teary ones, admiring you, a little overwhelmed himself. Seeing you finally debut after the months he'd spent with you, singing together, dancing, doing everything he could to make sure you were ready when the day came, got him a little teary eyed, too. You'd done so well, and he felt so lucky to have gotten to be there by your side for all of it. 

“I'm so proud of you.” He said, his hands moving down from your shoulders, along your arms. His eyes held so much warmth behind them, the sweet words along with his hands on you, and the way he never took his eyes away from you, had you reeling, stomach doing flips. For a second you swore his face was getting closer to yours, and his eyes flickered down to your lips. The tension seemed so thick, it became unbearable. 

You threw your arms around him, and you kissed him.

At first he took a step back, stumbling a bit, too surprised to fully react. But before you had the chance to pull away, his hand was holding your face against his own, returning the same kind of passion you showed him.

Baekhyun, your endlessly kind, lovely, talented, handsome, funny, charming mentor, was kissing you back. With his free arm, he circled your waist and pulled you closer, flush with his chest. The hand on your face held you close so softly, asking, not demanding, for more contact, for this to not end so quickly. He gave you every chance to pull away, to stop him, but you didn't, you only melted into his affection even more. 

The knock on the door pulled you both rudely back to reality. Your lips parted, and as you stared at one another, what you'd just done started to sink in. Baekhyuns’ face fell in a way you’d never seen before, and then he was gone. He walked through the door with all the horror disgust he felt towards himself clearly evident and the knot in his stomach nearly made him sick. 

He knew he made a huge mistake. He fucked up so incredibly badly. 

You stood there stunned, a million things running through your head, and collapsed under the weight of it all. 

The stylist was confused to say the least after first witnessing Baekhyun’s swift exit and next finding you, sitting on the floor crying. Thankfully she excused herself and let you be.

Baekhyun kissed you, and then just walked out, leaving you alone and confused. The guilt nearly ate him alive. Returning your kiss crossed so many lines and he should've known better, and he did, but you caught him so off guard, in such an emotionally charged moment, it just happened. The sudden euphoria of realizing that you were kissing him overpowered any rational thought. He knew he must be insane. 

And of all days, it was the day of your debut.

He had to make this right. 

He returned to your waiting room but it was already empty. He kept walking around the building trying to find you, even running into your bandmates, but you were nowhere to be found. 

Then he tried calling you, but he was sent to voicemail after the first ring. You declined his call. Finally he texted you, although he really didn't want to have this conversation over text. He knew he needed to do a better job at apologizing than just sending a few texts 

“Can we please talk about this? I'm so sorry I just walked out, I wasn't thinking, I need to talk to you.” 

You didn't reply. 

The next day he called again, and still you didn't pick up. 

The truth was, you were too embarrassed. Seeing him again, after he'd rejected you like that, was just too mortifying to consider. You felt so stupid. Of course kissing him was an outrageously dumb thing to do. He was your mentor, of course anything romantic was off the table. But you had a crush, and the adrenaline, combined with how sweet he was to you, made you lose any sense of reason. 

Stupid little girl, kissing the man she never even had a chance with, because her emotions got the best of her. 

But then why did he kiss you back? 

That was what drove you insane. Of course you had a crush on him, it was painfully obvious from the first day you'd met him, but he'd always stayed professional, never giving you any reason to think that it was anything more than how a fan feels toward their idol, and that it ever would be. Unfortunately for you, your feelings towards him only got stronger over time. 

Baekhyun had convinced himself that it was a good thing you liked him, that with him as your mentor, you'd work that much harder. He thought it was cute, the same way he thought of other fans' attitudes towards him, during fansigns and the like. He hadn't considered that maybe he'd gotten a little too close with you, that those lines started to feel blurred. In reality, you weren't just another fan, you were far from it. You were a real friend, you knew him. 

It was easy for him to understand why you didn't want to see or talk to him after what happened. He knew he messed up, both when he kissed you back, and when he left the room. He couldn't even imagine what must've been going through your head. He hoped you weren't blaming yourself, sure you're an adult, but at ten whole years older than you, he knew he was the one responsible for making sure things stayed appropriate between you two, and he'd failed. 

To his relief, you still did amazing for the rest of the debut promotions. He watched every performance, wishing he could've been there to support you. 

Because of how busy you were you'd agreed a while ago to skip lessons for the first two weeks after debut, and as the days dragged on, Baekhyun was starting to worry that he wouldn't get to see you again for a lot longer than he'd like. He still knew he needed to apologize to you, and the longer you avoided him the guiltier he felt. 

When promotions ended and he still hadn't heard from you, he reached out to your manager, asking when you'd have time for a lesson again. 

She assured him that you'd be there next week at the same time and place as usual, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The days before the lesson dragged on for what felt like ages to him, but at least there was an end in sight. 

When the time finally came, you were mortified, almost as badly as the first day you'd met him, or during your first lesson together, maybe even worse. He greeted you just as warmly as he always did, emphasizing how well you'd done during all the performances, and how he wished he could've been there for you. He did everything he could to try and relieve some of the tension and awkwardness, but you weren't there yet. 

You were bright red, hating the unpleasant heat sweeping over you, burning your cheeks and making you uncomfortably sweaty. You couldn't talk to him, or even make eye contact, you were still too ashamed. 

“Y/n?” You saw in your peripheral how he looked at you, and your eyes started to water. “I need to apologize for what happened after the showcase, I'm so sorry, I never should've put you in that situation, or kissed you back, or just left like I did. I was being reckless and stupid, the fault is all mine, and I understand if not, but I really hope you can forgive me.” 

His heart sank when you started to cry, and although he'd told himself a million times that he wouldn't, that any physical contact with you was inappropriate, he still ended up holding you, giving you a shoulder to cry on. 

“I'm such a fucking idiot.” You eventually let out between sobs, and he detached himself from you, finally meeting your eyes. 

“Please don't say that, this is all on me. I'm the one who fucked up, not you.” 

“But I'm the one- I-”

“Because I was being inappropriate. Like I said, I shouldn't have put you in that situation, that was my mistake.”

“I'm just so embarrassed.” It came out barely above a whisper. 

“Nobody saw us, and I could never judge you for that. I know you just got caught up in the moment.” 

You did your best to smile and nod, but the tears just kept coming. His words were sweet but did little to mend the pain and shame you still felt. 

He wanted to reach out and wipe away your tears, to hold you, to comfort you as best he could, but he knew it would only worsen things. Once again, however, when you leaned into him for comfort, he let you do as you pleased, cursing himself for letting his very necessary boundaries slip away so easily. 

This was bad, he knew it was. He didn't have the strength to push you away though he really should've. If this was going to continue, he had to do better, but he was coming to terms with the fact that he just wasn't able to. 

He stayed holding you until the tears eventually slowed down, and came to a stop. Now that your face wasn't buried in his chest anymore, he shot you a soft smile. “Do you want to get to singing?” 

Finally, you let out a small laugh. “Do we have to? Can we just talk? I missed you.” 

He sighed, but nodded. He'd missed you too, but saying so didn't feel like a good idea. 

He kept the conversation light, trying to make you laugh, anything to brighten your mood, if only for a little while. When the end of the lesson came, he knew he was going to have to be the bearer of bad news. 

“Next week I promise we can actually sing again.” You told him as he led you to his car to bring you home. 

He took a few deep breaths, and you were on your way to your dorm when he finally replied. 

“I don't think it's a good idea for me to be mentoring you, or giving your lessons anymore.” 

“What?” 

He stopped at a red light, and the look of hurt and disappointment he saw when he looked over at you made his throat feel tight. 

“I'll talk to your original voice teacher, to see when he can fit you into his schedule again, now that you're getting more advanced it'll be better for you to train with him anyway.”

You felt your lip start to quiver again. “You just don't want to be around me anymore now, I get it.” You mumbled, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. 

Baekhyun’s eyes squeezed shut for a second, “it's really not that, not at all.” 

He was pulling up to your dorm and you just wanted to get away from him now before he saw you start to cry again. “You don't have to keep lying to me, I know I'm the one who fucked everything up with that stupid kiss.” 

He parked, trying to think of how he could finally convince you that it wasn't your fault, but you were reaching for the door before he had the chance to say anything. 

“Y/n, wait, please-” 

You were already gone though, shutting the door behind you. As soon as you were outside of his car the tears came, and you tried to wipe them away as best you could as you hurried to your dorm. 

When you got to the elevator you prayed nobody would see you like this. You'd spent so much of the evening in tears, you knew you looked an absolute mess. You just wanted to get to your room where you could finally be alone and let it all out. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

You turned around, and there he was, jogging towards where you stood. Your stomach suddenly felt like it was in your throat, and then he was in front of you once again, this time taking both of your hands in his.

“I don't know what to tell you, for you to believe me, but it's not your fault, I swear. I- I don't want to stop teaching you either, really, but I can't keep being alone with you, not when I can't trust myself.” 

All you could do was stare back at him, knowing that you were a tearful mess. What he was telling you didn't make any sense in your mind. You kissed him. Not the other way around. 

“Please say something.” He was still panting a little as he said it, winded from having run after you. 

“What does that even m-mean, you can't trust yourself? I'm the one who kissed you, and I'm definitely not stupid enough to try that again, so what does it matter?” 

“I already told you, I shouldn't have put you, or us, in that situation in the first place.” 

“But that doesn't fucking matter! Who cares if we're alone, we've been alone for the last two hours and it was fine.” 

Only it really hadn't been fine, he knew that he shouldn't have been touching you at all.

You were staring back at him through tear filled eyes, and he felt absolutely terrible. He wanted to be able to comfort you, and eventually just gave in, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his arms around you. 

He just didn't have it in him to stand and watch you cry, knowing that he was the reason. This time he felt the way you grabbed onto the back of his shirt, keeping him from moving away. 

“Please don't cry, I'm sorry, really, I just want what's best for you. We would still see each other occasionally around the company, it's not like this is goodbye forever.” 

“I- I don't want lessons with anyone else. You're the whole reason I was able to debut, you can't just leave me now. Please.” 

You were still holding onto him, and with every “please” you added, he was slipping. He hoped that you would eventually calm down, and he would be able to reason with you, to finally make you understand why he couldn't be around you so much anymore. 

He had no such luck. All you could think about was how badly you would miss him, how lost you would feel if he stopped mentoring you, the last few weeks had been bad enough already, the only thing that got you through without him was your embarrassment and how busy you'd been. You couldn't lose him, you needed him. 

Every minute that he listened to you cry because of him, he felt his rationality fade. As much as he knew he needed to distance himself, he wasn't going to do it if it hurt you that badly. 

You felt him take a deep breath, and finally, a soft “okay” fell from his lips. 

It wasn't until then that he felt your grip on him loosen, and you looked up at him. 

“What? Really?” You sniffled, face still wet. 

He nodded, running one hand through your hair, moving it from where it had started to stick to your face. 

Once again, your arms were thrown around him, but at least this time, it was because you were happy. You must've said thank you to him a million times that night, as you felt the relief wash over you. Baekhyun was all too aware of the way your chest pressed against his own. 

When he was finally free of your arms around him, you were beaming up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. “You should get to your dorm before people start getting worried.” 

You nodded, pressing the button and hugging him one more time before the elevator arrived. 

“Bye” he waved, as you stepped inside and the doors started to shut “see you next week.” 

He knew he was in too deep, and he was a fool to give in to you, but now it was too late. He was going to have to live with his decision and try to keep things from going further, but he 

knew deep down that realistically, he didn’t have that kind of self control, not with you. 

~

Baekhyun hadn’t planned on seeing you again until the next lesson, but when your debut song entered the top ten on all the major charts just a few days later, he wanted to celebrate, and invited you to a nice dinner. That day you spent hours getting ready, putting on your favorite dress and making sure your hair and makeup were perfect. You knew that it wasn’t a date, but the way you felt leading up to him arriving could’ve fooled you. 

He picked you up and drove you to the restaurant, pulling up in the back where there was already somebody waiting to lead you to a private dining area where you’d be out of sight of the public. You hadn’t really thought about it, but you understood why it would probably be better for your dinner with him to stay between the two of you. 

It was the first time you’d been around him just to hang out, more as a friend than a student, and you thought it was magical. You were nervous at first, still having all of the past drama with him on your mind, but he was his usual wonderful self, easily leading the conversation, making you laugh until your stomach hurt, and he too felt it, how easy and right this was. You ended up at the restaurant with him for over two hours, neither of you wanting the night to end. Finally the awkward tension from the previous weeks was gone, replaced with optimism and gratitude for still having him in your life. 

When he finally dropped you off, he got out of the car to walk you inside, and you ended up alone with him, standing in front of the elevator once again. 

“Thank you for tonight,” You started, “everything still feels kind of surreal, I can’t believe this is actually my life now. And it’s all thanks to you.” 

“You always had it in you.” He said and smiled that lovely warm smile. You were about to press the button to take you upstairs, but he stopped you, looking around to make sure you were alone. “Wait- I know I tell you all the time that I’m proud of you and how far you’ve come, but I really can’t say it enough. I’m really lucky that I get to teach you. You have something special, truly.” 

You and him got stuck in a weird place, neither one talking, but not making any effort to leave either. The way he was looking at you pulled you in, and you thought you saw something flash across his face, something you hadn’t seen before. He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin, and your heart rate skyrocketed, confused. He wasn’t sure what came over him, he must be insane. 

“Baekhyun?” You barely whispered, but he didn’t explain himself, instead he leaned in, and he kissed you. 

Your mind was going a million miles a minute and it made no sense to you whatsoever, but he was kissing you, softly, sweetly, like something out of one of the many day dreams you’d had about him. As quickly as it started he was pulling away again, his face tinted a deep shade of pink, smiling a bit bashfully at you, still too shocked to react. 

“Goodnight.” He whispered, and then he was walking back to his car. 

After that, things felt completely different with him. The hugs got longer, his words sweeter, and every time he dropped you off, he’d again kiss you goodnight. It wasn’t only after your weekly lessons together that he would drive you around either, you and him began to spend more and more time together, and had to get more and more cautious about not being seen. 

You would sneak out in big hoodies with a mask on to walk to where he was waiting in the parking lot, just to drive around all night with him in one of his fancy cars, talking, singing, and sometimes pulling off to the side of a quiet road where he would lean over and kiss you, though it never went any further. He knew that sneaking around with and kissing his student was bad enough, anything more, and in public, would be a whole different kind of stupid. 

Both of you started to lie a lot, to your managers, friends, anyone really who would question or even just ask about your relationship. To everyone else, he was still just your mentor, a strict student-teacher agreement and no more. The lying should’ve been your first clue as to how wrong it all was, but you were blinded by your feelings for him. Getting to be alone with him, kiss him, and talk to him about things no one else knew was too all consuming for you to even think twice about it.

How you talked to each other changed too. When you were alone with him he would call you baby, treating you less like a student, or even just a friend, and more as a lover. You should’ve been happy, thrilled, even, and you were when you were with him, but when he’d drop you off and you’d be alone in your dorm again, you’d break down.

The late nights together, the romance, the kisses, they were all wonderful in the moment, but afterwards you’d always part ways, realizing that it was all fleeting, that any relationship beyond what you already had with him was impossible, because no matter how you might feel about each other, you were still his student, and far too young to be involved with him in any deeper way. No number of kisses or secret rendezvous would make him yours, he made that clear. You would always end up alone in your dorm at the end of it all, crying, knowing it would never turn into anything more.

Seeing him during lessons was a different experience now. There would be other people around, and they didn’t think twice seeing you together, but you and Baekhyun would give each other knowing looks, or he’d wink at you, or something else to signify your little secret. You and him almost had a special secret language, joking with each other often with little more than a glance.

Even your manager didn’t know about you and him, she knew that he was mentoring you, but she’d known him for so long, she never even suspected that he might be acting inappropriately with you, he just didn’t seem like that kind of guy. 

The two of you had everyone fooled, and while it felt exciting on the surface, it also grew a new kind of shame within you, knowing that what you were doing was deeply wrong. 

What you had with him wasn’t real, and never should or could be, and it was starting to tear you apart. It took you weeks of working up the courage to do so, but finally, during a lesson, you decided you were going to confront him with all of it. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Baekhyun shrugged. “Sure.” 

“But you have to promise you'll answer honestly!” 

“Okay! I promise.”

You took a deep breath. “What are we doing?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know exactly what I mean. The sneaking around, the kissing, what is that about?” 

He'd been perfectly relaxed, but you could see how he tensed up as he realized what you were talking about. 

“Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea for us to talk about that right now-” 

“You said you'd answer!” 

A long sigh left him, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “Okay, okay. I’m just doing what feels right. You know I like you, but you also know that we can’t just act like we’re together either.” 

“Why?” 

“You know why.” 

“Cause it’s inappropriate? We both know that this entire arrangement hasn't been appropriate since you decided to mentor me, knowing that I have a huge crush on you.” 

You wanted to finally hear it from him, wanted him to admit that he'd been just as irresponsible as you, and Baekhyun didn't say a word. It was the hard truth that he'd been trying for so long to avoid, and you threw it right in his face. 

“Ever since then it feels like you've been slowly leading me on, acting like we have something special but never letting it feel completely real, when you're the one who started all this in the first place, and let it get this far.” 

He stared at you, and he knew he couldn't keep it up anymore, couldn't keep ignoring it. He saw your hurt and frustration clear as day, and finally, he broke. 

“I'm a fucking idiot. I know I am, I'm an idiot and knew that getting so close with you was a terrible idea but I ignored all of that because I like you too much, I never intended for us to end up like this and feel like a huge asshole because I know I'm in a position where it's completely wrong of me to touch you at all because of how we met and the power dynamic but still every time I see you that's all I can think about.” 

“Do you really not understand how cruel you're being?” 

You scoffed at how genuinely confused he looked. 

“I've liked you so much for so long, you know I have, and you just waltz into my life and start talking to me and then teaching me and then offering to mentor me, when you know I can't help but fall for you. You even make it clear that you like me back, inviting me out with you and kissing me but never truly acknowledging what it means, it feels fucking awful. You keep stringing me along because you like me even though you know you can't give me what I really want. You're such a selfish asshole for that.” 

Your voice grew less and less stable and Baekhyun saw how the tears gathered in your eyes, threatening to spill over. 

He knew there was no use trying to argue with you, he'd gotten himself into this mess and he knew he was the one to blame. “What do you want me to do?” 

“I don’t know. But it can’t go on like this, it hurts too much.”

The small room fell silent and all you could do was stare at each other. You looked so defeated, the guilt nearly brought him to tears, and he did the only thing he could think to do. 

He held your face in his hands, bringing you close, letting his lips meet your own. 

Kissing him was just as electrifying as it always was, only this time, he didn't stop, didn't hold back. You got lost in the feeling, savoring the familiar taste and feel of finally getting what you craved again. This time though, it couldn't end the way it always did. Something had to change, so you pulled away.  

“You can’t just kiss me again and then keep on the same way. Please, I need more.” 

His face fell, because he knew he couldn’t give you that. “Y/n, I’m sorry, but you know why I can’t do that, why it has to be like this.” 

And he was right, of course you understood, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It would be the end of his career if he was seen with you, and even his close friends would be raising eyebrows. He was so much older, your teacher, and your idol. What you wanted was completely impossible. “I care about you, a lot, you know I do. I also wish it wasn’t like this but we don’t have another choice.” 

“So what? You keep stringing me along, and I just have to live with it? Knowing that no matter how much we may want it, we’ll never be able to be together?” 

He sighed, and frowned at how sad you looked. “Can’t we just be grateful for what we do have?” 

You shook your head, “I want too much.” 

Despite everything you said, you and him both knew that you wouldn't be able to walk away, and neither would he. So when he took your face in his hands, whispered another “I'm sorry,” and kissed you again, you melted into him effortlessly. 

It was heated and messy, both letting out all your grief and frustration, clinging to each other almost desperately. He kissed you harder, deeper than he had before, until this time he was the one to pull away, though he didn't move far, looking at you with a look that while apologetic, was still hopeful.  

“I can't give you what you want, but if we're careful, I can take you home with me. For tonight, we can act like it’s real.” 

Before, taking you home with him had always been off the table. You were both too easily recognizable, and being seen in his building together would make it dead obvious that your relationship was more than it should be, so it didn’t even seem like an option. 

Wide eyed, you nodded, and not even a half hour into the lesson he was sneaking you carefully out of the practice room, and then the building, into his car. You texted your manager some bullshit excuse as to why you'd be gone for the night, and then you were on your way to his place, for the very first time.  

You could hear the rapid pounding of your own heart as he drove you through the night, unsure but excited. Even if it was only for one night, and he was risking far too much, you were going to hold onto whatever you could get. 

When he pulled into his building’s garage, he gave you a hat and a mask to put on, he pulled up his hood and put his own mask on, saying a short prayer before getting out of the car, and walking in with you. If anyone saw and recognized you both, he would be fucked, so he hurried, and luckily you made it to his apartment without running into anyone. 

Once inside you both let out a sigh of relief. You were alone with him, truly alone, no chance of passers by seeing you, or label mates catching onto your relationship, just you and him, all night. 

When you felt his hand on your own, pulling you closer, it robbed you of your breath. He took his mask off, and then yours, and leaned in, though his lips only barely met your own before he was looking at you once again. “I’ve wanted you so badly, and I know it’s wrong and I’m an idiot and an asshole for doing this, but I just can’t bring myself to stay away from you.” 

“So don’t. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I’m all yours.” 

You looked up at him, eyes sparking with all the hope and clueless naivety he should expect from you, a girl of barely twenty, who’d grown up loving him, and was powerless not to fall into his trap, whether he’d set it on purpose or not. He was a man ten years your senior, who positioned himself as an authority figure in your life, someone who should never touch you, kiss you, or anything even close. 

The guilt manifested as a lump in his throat, knowing that your feelings for him, your willingness to ignore how wrong it all was, were because of him. 

Still, he kissed you, with a kind of passion that was new to you both. Without any risk of getting caught, he let himself hold you tighter, let the kiss get more and more heated. He led you to the couch, where you ended up on his lap, his hands on your hips as his lips wandered to your neck, kissing, biting, enough to make you gasp and shiver, but not leave marks. 

For you it was otherworldly, lightheaded and dizzy with disbelief as his hands and lips stayed glued to your skin, finally living out the fantasies that played in your head when you laid alone at night, longing for him. You’d kissed boys in the past, but none of them came anywhere close to the way he made you feel. You were convinced nobody could ever make you feel the things Baekhyun could, and all he’d done was kiss you. He wasn’t some boy, he was a man, he knew what he was doing, and you wanted more. Every last little piece of him. 

The restraint was gone. He wanted you just as badly, and that was all he could focus on. When you pushed your hips further into him, he groaned at the friction, easily getting carried away. You felt, looked, sounded, tasted, even smelled divine to him. He’d been hard for a good while already, and this time when you rolled your hips and he felt you against him, he let out a satisfied groan. 

That only encouraged you further and you kept moving, lips moving heatedly against his, as you started to get yourself off against him, his hands on your ass guiding you. 

“I want more.” You breathed out when he pulled back for air. “Where’s your bedroom?” 

Baekhyun didn’t answer, rather he stood, your legs still wrapped around him as he carried you away, until gently laying you down on his mattress. 

With you he became a gentle, caring lover. Maybe it was your age, or the fact that he’d been your mentor, but the way he touched you was like you were something precious. Like if he wasn’t careful, you would break. Even as he positioned himself between your thighs, he was cautious, never moving too quickly, watching for any hesitation on your end. 

But there was none, your desire for him was all-consuming in a way that was hard to understand, even in the moment. Without him pressed against you, you felt like you might actually die. 

“I’m not made of glass, Baek. You don’t have to be so careful.” 

“I know, I just… I want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I want this to be special.” 

When his lips met yours for the nth time that day, you started to tug on his clothes, until his shirt was being pulled over his head and he got to work undressing you as well. One by one he took off your blouse, followed by the skirt you were wearing, next unhooking your bra, until all that was left on your body was a pair of lacy underwear. Still desperate for his affection, you kept your lips glued to his all you could, the added feel of his warm skin against your own stealing any rationality from your mind. All you could think of was him, you wanted him in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

He froze above you when your hand reached down, trying to get the button of his jeans undone. 

Even the few seconds when his touch left you completely as he finished undressing himself felt torturous. A breath got stuck in your throat when you felt his hands at your hips, slowly pulling the last piece of clothing from your body before reclaiming his place between your thighs. 

As your eyes met his and he started to move closer, you realized that there was something he needed to know. 

“Wait- I should probably tell you, I’ve never done this before.”

You watched as the color drained from Baekhyun’s face, eyes wide. He hadn’t even considered that you might be a virgin, you were old enough to have some experience, but it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise to him either. Those five words hit him like a punch in the gut. 

He rolled off of you, hands running through his hair, eyes squeezed shut. “God, this is so fucked up.” 

You sat up, taking one of his hands and he looked at you with uncertainty. “It’s not a big deal, but I’m sorry if that was a bit of a shock.” 

He gave you a sympathetic, but worried look. “It is a big deal though, at least to me. This would be irresponsible enough if it wasn’t your first time, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t want to be responsible for how you’ll feel afterwards.” 

His words made your heart sink and a lump form in your throat. “What? No, please, Baekhyun, trust me, there isn’t anyone in the entire world that I would rather do this with than you, here and now. Please. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything this badly.” 

“You have to realize how tough of a spot you’re putting me in.” 

“I don’t care. I just want you, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life. Please.” 

You moved closer to him, linking your hands behind the back of his neck, taking him with you as you fell back onto the mattress. He looked down at you, still unsure. 

“Please.” 

He shushed you with another kiss, but had his own conditions if he was really going to be your first. “You have to tell me immediately if you feel uncomfortable at all, or if it hurts, and you can stop me at any point if you don’t want it anymore.” 

You could see in his eyes the concern and uncertainty he was feeling, but you had gotten this far, and you knew what you wanted, and you wanted it bad. You nodded, and he was between your legs once again, the anticipation rising. 

Baekhyun didn’t miss the way you gasped at the first touch of his length against your inner thigh. He wanted to make sure you were ready, that it didn’t hurt too badly, so he started with one finger inside you, slowly working it in and out, before adding a second. The wetness and your whimpers told him you were more than ready, easily taking his digits, and finally, he moved to replace them with his length.  

You felt him position himself at your entrance, and you were certain you’d never felt that kind anticipation before, leaving you a shaking, panting mess underneath him. 

You felt his hand softly against your cheek, and your eyes opened to meet his. “Y/n, baby. You’re sure you want this?” 

You nodded without even a second of hesitation. “Yes, god, please.” 

The softness of his kiss was a stark contrast to the intrusion of him pushing inside, the pain making your eyes squeeze shut and a whine pass your lips. 

He stopped moving when he saw your reaction, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. “Am I hurting you?” 

It did hurt, but your desire overpowered any sign of discomfort. “Please don’t stop.” 

With his forehead pressed to yours he kept going, until his hips were flush with yours. He felt your discomfort in how tense you were, staying still to let the pain subside. 

“Baekhyun, please.” 

You might’ve not minded the pain, too concerned with the intense need for more, but he wasn’t going to move until he knew you were okay. 

“I know it hurts baby, you have to relax, can you do that for me?” 

You whined in response but realized that he was right, you were extremely un-relaxed, and as you made a conscious effort to let go of all the tension in your body, the pain faded away. 

He felt it, and saw how you melted into the mattress, and took it as his cue to start moving. 

The first thrust had your back arching, moaning his name and he just kept going, setting a slow rhythm. You clung to him, moaning unabashedly, losing yourself to the new and incredible feeling of him inside you. Nothing could’ve prepared you for it, this was so much better than anything you’d been able to come up with in your own fantasies. Just the weight and warmth of him on top of you overwhelmed you, combined with the feeling of him pushing in, pulling out almost completely each time, before sinking back into you, it was like your own personal heaven. He was your own personal heaven. 

It only got better as he kept moving, that familiar warm feeling building in the pit of your stomach. You’d had orgasms before, but what you could do with your own hands didn’t even compare to what he was doing to you. It was a wholly different, and far more intense sensation. 

His lips collided with yours in a messy, lustful haze, praises passing his lips in between breaths.  “You feel so good baby, so perfect, so beautiful.”

Those words heightened everything even more, his low voice sending chills running down your spine. 

“Baek, please.” 

You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore, you were just imploring him for more, everything and anything he could give you, you wanted it. The feeling of him rolling his hips into you again and again clearing your mind, your pleasure and desire all consuming. 

However he could see it in your eyes, how you needed more, and picked up the pace. The way he pushed himself into you, now faster, and with more force, had the tightness in your belly growing more intense by the second. 

The build up was more intense than you ever knew possible, losing control as he continued his ministrations, until all at once, you fell. 

The orgasm raged through you, leaving every nerve ablaze, as you shook and gasped at the overwhelming wave of pleasure. 

Above you, Baekhyun was losing control too, still pushing inside deeply, teetering on the edge, but your fucked out expression combined with the way you clenched around him had him reaching his high soon after you, shuddering with a moan as he let go. 

For a minute you both stayed just like that, panting, gasping, letting the climax slowly fade, until there was nothing left but a tangled web of sweaty limbs. 

When he pulled out and rolled off of you, the loss of his warmth made you whine. You barely even noticed when he got up, soon returning with a wet towel, and cleaning you up. 

He settled in next to you, and you smiled when his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into him. 

Luckily the exhaustion did well to lull you to sleep, any painful thoughts being pushed to the morning, but you wouldn’t be able to escape them forever. 

He woke you up with a kiss on the cheek, and at first it all felt so nice, so tender and intimate, in bed together with him as the sun began to poke through the curtains. Slowly he got up, and you followed, feeling the dull ache between your thighs as you stood. 

Seeing the way you grimaced at the soreness, he was quickly at your side. “Shit, sorry.” He muttered. 

You just let out a small laugh. “It’s okay, it was worth it, at least. Definitely worth it.” 

He smiled, pulling his clothes on as you gathered your own, before doing the same. “Let’s get you home, before it gets busy and people could see us leaving here together."

There it was, the rude call back to reality. That your night with him was over, that now you would have to hide again, to sneak around, and constantly be reminded that he wasn’t really yours, and never would be. 

Stupid, foolish girl. 

You managed to make it back home without being spotted, and even his kiss goodbye couldn’t keep the sadness from taking you over. He noticed it too, how you seemed to shut down after making it to his car. 

Back in your room, you let it all out, letting the tears seep into your pillow. Once again, he’d turned you into a complete mess, the pain and frustration leaving you broken.

Nobody could ever again give you what he could, could make you feel what he could. It was him, the man you’d looked up to and admired for so many years, and now after having slept with him, it was clearer than ever. 

That was the nature of your relationship with him. You were powerless to him, and no matter how much it would ruin you, you'd let him do it, over and over again.

For him, you would ruin yourself, a million little times.

[lunarw0rks]

I have a request for Ghost where 141 notices a change in Ghost when he can't wait to get home to a loved one but hasn't told anyone about her yet. They even notice that he smells different at times, has hairbands on his wrist, and is distracted more than usual and maybe even happier. Then they finally put the pieces together and maybe even find evidence that he does have a loved one, Thank you :))

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box Warning(s): nothing major, mild language, gn!s/o A/N: soap in this fic reminds me of this scene lmao. also, this is more headcanon/drabbles than a short fic, since those have been easier for me to write lately.

─── simon hated it, being in love with you. there was a point where his hyper-awarness had dwindled, leaving him lovesick and distracted. regardless, he's a solid lieutenant, hard and ruthless whenever necessary, but it's the little things.

♦ his street clothes don't just smell of tobacco and his natural musk. there's something else, too. your scent. the shampoo and fragrances that you use, are unmistakable to his co-workers.

♦ it wasn't until he was sitting still long enough to smell it, that he panicked. he had been nose-blind, too occupied with a busy day to notice it until now. this whole time, those who had stood next to him throughout the day smelled it too, no doubt.

─── but Simon had to stay calm, he told himself. he could do that, couldn't he? he's always stone-faced and stoic. should be a walk in the park... right? if he played his cards right, no one would notice, no one would tease him - no one would find out about you.

♦ well, that sentiment didn't last long at all...

♦ it went exactly how he pictured it. soap running his mouth, being chatty and persistent to get a rise out of him. and it worked.

♦ "if I were a detective, I'd say ya been caught red-handed, L.T." soap sneered, to simon's dismay. he hadn't said a word; all he was doing was sitting off to the side picturing coming home to you.

♦ the lieutenant replied, forcing his usual scowl. "go bother someone else, Sergeant. I've got no time for childish games." though, since meeting you, that expression had been more difficult to fake. perhaps it was how he bounced his knee anxiously, how he had his head back while daydreaming, or how he fiddled with his scarred fingers more than usual. simon had failed at being subtle, once again.

♦ soap wasn't going to give up that easily, naturally. "the crime of love. head over heels for someone, aren't you? fell so hard you knocked some sense into your hard head, didn't ye?"

♦ "watch yourself, johnny."

─── next, it wasn't just subtle clues to the lieutenant's dating status. it was cold, hard evidence. the gravest mistake he ever made; forgetting to take off one of the hair ties you handed him the day before. or, subconsciously, he kept it to keep a piece of you with him.

♦ no matter the root of the problem, he was screwed. he had officially gone soft... a little soft, at least.

♦ "ghost, you have yesterday's reports?" price asked, preoccupied with the mounds of work on his desk. simon nodded and reached into the bin on the top shelf, his hoodie sleeve rolling down his arm when he did so.

♦ in truth, price could care less about the dating status of his soldiers. all he cared about was that they were punctual and focused - but something about ghost having someone at home, it amused him.

♦ gaz, silently observed from afar, like always. he never spoke, unless spoken to. he was more shocked than anything. simon was never the type in his mind, let alone to be distracted and leave traces of the unknown lover. but, nonetheless, gaz didn't want to lose an eye, so he decided it best to keep his mouth shut.

♦ surprise, surprise.

♦ soap said something again. "hm, i knew it, L.T. you got the hots for someone at home, got it bad, heh." the iciest glare he'd ever received from ghost, was all he got in return. simon yanked his hoodie sleeve back down as if that was going to clear the memory of his vulnerability.

─── "be careful, sergeant, or you'll be lying in the med bay."

[seiya-starsniper]

hello hello i see you're open to prompts 👀

how about #20"I'm just going to lie right here" for dreamling (or any ship you prefer 👀)

happy writing, my dear 💜✨️

HEY SO REMEMBER THIS PROMPT YOU SENT ME FIVE MONTHS AGO??? Apparently it took me getting another prompt to finally come up with an idea for it, so I've gone and combined the two 😄💖 Gentle Prompts Here and Soft Prompts Here (I'll still accept prompts from both because I am a fluff machine)

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

Hob knows something is wrong as soon as his roommate enters their shared apartment and slams the door behind him.

“Morph? You all right?” Hob calls out, pausing his movie and turning to the entryway where Morpheus is angrily pulling off his shoes and shoving his coat onto the hooks. He also practically slams his keys down into the tray on the side table by the door, and Hob winces at the loud clang that echoes through the apartment. He considers asking Morpheus again if he’s all right, but decides to let his moody roommate come to him instead. 

Something is definitely very wrong if his roommate is making this much noise. Morpheus Endless is normally so quiet of a roommate that Hob doesn’t always notice when the other man is even in the apartment at the same time as him. Morpheus was so silent and unassuming that Hob had felt like he was being haunted by a ghost rather than living with a real person the first few months they started living together. Hob would be jump-scared in his own kitchen simply by turning around and finding Morpheus there right behind him. He had no idea another person could walk so quietly. The worst time had been in the bathroom, when Hob had accidentally squirted half a tube of toothpaste all over the other man’s black shirt. From that point forward, Morpheus had started knocking along the walls wherever he walked, so that Hob would know where he was at any given moment.

Still, the pale man was an ideal roommate otherwise, if not a little socially awkward at times. On top of his eerily quiet nature, it had taken months for Hob to get Morpheus to even say more than five words to him whenever they were in the same room together. Hob had first thought Morpheus was just disinterested in being friendly all together, but then one night, like a cat, his roommate peeked his head out of his room to the smell of Hob cooking dinner. Hob has since learned to let Morpheus come to him, instead of trying to impress on the man himself.

Hob’s efforts seem to now be paying off, for instead of stomping off to his bedroom to sulk about whatever it is, Morpheus instead makes his way over to the couch and plants himself directly in front of Hob’s line of vision. Hob tries to give his best reassuring smile as he stares up at the pale man.

“Bad day?” Hob asks gently. “I’m happy to listen, if you’d like. Looks like you could use a hug too.”

Morpheus doesn’t answer, he simply sways somewhat unsteadily for a few moments, before he practically collapses onto the couch. The only problem is, Hob is still very much sitting on said couch, and instead of aiming for the empty spot next to him, Hob instead finds himself with an armful of gangly limbs and untamed hair. 

“Oof,” Hob grunts as he takes on the unexpected weight. Hug it is, then. Morpheus isn’t heavy by any means, but it still takes a moment for Hob to adjust to having what is effectively an oversized cat suddenly in his lap. Hob eventually manages to wiggle his arms out from under Morpheus, before wrapping them around the pale man and pulling him against his chest. Morpheus immediately takes the cue and buries his face in Hob’s shoulder, shaking like a leaf and failing to keep his breathing even.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, it’s all right,” Hob soothes, rubbing at Morpheus’s back. His roommate is freezing from the cold weather outside, but he’s quickly warming up the longer Hob holds him.

Hob doesn’t know what it is that’s upset Morpheus so much, but whatever it is, he’s glad that his roommate isn’t trying to deal with it alone, that they’ve come far enough in their friendship (though Morpheus has yet to call him a friend at this point) for him to show Hob this vulnerable side of him. 

The only downside to this is that this newfound vulnerability is doing absolutely nothing to help Hob’s teeny tiny, absolutely miniscule crush on his roommate. But that’s neither here nor there. Hob tucks the yearning feelings that arise from their newfound intimacy quietly behind his ribs and focuses all his energy into comforting Morpheus instead. 

“Do you…want to talk about it?” Hob asks Morpheus. 

A soft inhale. Then a shake of the head against his shoulder. The motion alerts Hob to the fact that his shoulder is damp, and the realization makes his heart lurch up into his throat. He wants to go out and find whoever or whatever it is that’s upset Morpheus so much and give them an introduction to his fists.

“Okay…” Hob continues, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. He’s here for comfort, not to be a white knight. “That’s fine, we don’t need to get into it. Uhm…can I readjust though? This position’s a bit uncomfortable.”

There’s a short pause, and then eventually, Hob feels Morpheus nod against his shoulder.  

Moving Morpheus is a fairly easy task. If Hob didn’t know any better, he’d think his roommate had been replaced by some sort of mannequin from the way he lets Hob manhandle him so easily. He seems to be mostly aware of what’s happening, which is good, but it’s clear he’s no in any sort of headspace for conversation just yet.

Eventually, Hob is able to rearrange them so that he’s lying with his back resting on the arm of the couch, and Morpheus is sprawled on top of him. Their legs are tangled together and Hob’s also thrown the large throw blanket over them for good measure. Morpheus, of course, reburies his head in Hob’s shoulder, and Hob takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around his roommate’s shoulders once more, rubbing soothing circle’s into the other man’s back.

“See, that’s better now, isn’t it?” Hob asks gently. “Nothing beats a good hug and a cuddle on the couch when you’ve had a bad day.”

Morpheus hums, but otherwise doesn’t offer any other sort of verbal reply. It’s a start.

“You can stay as long as you like,” Hob adds. “I’m just going to lay right here until you decide you want to move.”

“Then you’ll be here until tomorrow,” Morpheus croaks, his voice clearly cracked from crying.

Hob laughs and moves his hand up from Morpheus’s back to ruffle the man’s messy black hair. Morpheus groans in annoyance and bats his hand away, but otherwise does not move from his chin perch on Hob’s shoulder. Somehow, Morpheus's hair looks exactly the same.

“There you are,” Hob says, his voice fond. “Was starting to worry you’d gone mute on me.”

“No,” Morpheus says. “...I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” Hob replies, then adds, “and we can stay here until tomorrow, really, if you like. But I will need to pee at some point.”

Morpheus huffs. “I suppose that is acceptable.”

“Can I tempt you with some food too?” Hob asks. “I’ll even feed it to you if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Morpheus replies. “I can feed myself.”

“All right,” Hob says, shrugging and shifting himself into a more comfortable lying position. “Need anything else? Want to take a nap?”

Morpheus doesn’t answer for some time, and Hob almost thinks the man fell asleep on him already, but then his roommate readjusts his limbs as well and moves his body downwards until his head is resting on Hob’s chest. Hob wants to cry at how adorable he looks, at how right it feels that their bodies fit together so perfectly, like they were made for each other. 

“A nap sounds nice,” Morpheus finally replies, mumbling quietly into Hob’s chest. “And perhaps food when we wake up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hob agrees. He already knows he’s going to be ordering take-out for tonight, but come tomorrow, he’s going to make all of Morpheus’s favorite foods for the rest of his week. For the rest of his life, if he’d let him.

It doesn’t take terribly long for Morpheus to fall asleep on him, and Hob resists the urge to plant a kiss in the man’s hair, settling instead for gently rubbing at Morpheus’s back. Hob falls asleep not too long after his roommate, and when he dreams, he dreams of a home filled with warmth and joy and love.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Western Nights.

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Javier Peña x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.6k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content at the end. talk and themes of PTSD. brief mention of domestic abuse. several mentions of panic attacks. age gap (but all very legal and consensual). smut in future chapters.

Author's Note - it's finally here!! i've had this idea for so long and i'm so glad to finally put pen to paper. the dads best friend trope is one of my biggest weaknesses and javier peña is my favourite character ever, so naturally this was born. this fic will tackle some topics that may be a little tough for some people, so make sure to read the warnings!! can't wait to get this up on its feet and running, and for javi and peaches story to develop <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! <3

Masterlist. Requests.

Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Healing isn't linear. Recovery is a journey. This is a choice I have to make. No one else can make it for me.

You're repeating reassurances to yourself in your mind as you descend the stairs to the basement.

It's dimly lit, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. When they do, you're able to make out an old, heavy, oak wood lectern at the front of the room. Rows of flimsy plastic chairs are set almost as an audience, and tables line the edges. The carpet is worn, beige, and stained, the entire space smelling like must and bad coffee. You wonder how many girls like you have stepped foot in here in the past.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your wrists and stick to the back wall, willing yourself to become invisible. Watching as people mill in slowly, you take a deep, steadying breath. In for 4. Hold for 4. Out for 6.

"Hi!" a middle aged, dyed blonde, motherly woman screeches at you. The cadence of her voice makes you jump.

"Sorry, sweetpea! Didn't mean to scare you," she looks you up and down before continuing. "You're new here, ain't ya?"

Her southern accent, albeit very high pitched, is somewhat comforting. It's something familiar in this room full of the unknown.

"Yeah," you just about manage to choke out.

She surveys you again, this time with no judgment. You realise she's just trying to figure you out, as you are her.

"If you need anything, just come find me. I'm Primrose."

You smile gently at the floral moniker, and decide that Primrose might be some much needed support. Her motherly aura was calming you ever so slightly.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, if we could all talk a seat, that'd be fantastic."

A tall, curly haired man - who can't be more than 30 - wearing a name tag sticker that reads 'Tobias' has taken his place behind the lectern, gesturing at everyone to sit down. You pick a chair near the back, slouching down and ducking your head.

"Wonderful. Hi, everyone."

A chorus of hellos echoes around the room, everyone clearly used to this routine.

"For anyone who's new here, I'm Tobias, but everyone calls me Tobi. I've been a Priest for the last five years, and I've been running this group for the last two. Usually, how it works is that we get a few people to come up and speak through their experiences."

Your chest tightens, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. As if he sees your panic, Tobi continues.

"Most people find that being able to talk freely and without judgment is a useful coping mechanism. PTSD is complex, and it isn't something that can ever be fully 'cured' - but we can find ways to make things easier. You're in a room full of ladies and gentlemen that might not understand your experience, but definitely understand your feelings."

He catches your eyes across the depth of the room and smiles gently. You muster up the strength to smile back cautiously, and he nods before speaking again.

"Some just come here to listen. Others find it beneficial to talk. No one is going to pressure you, judge you, or scald you. This is a safe space. Share as much or as little as you'd like. Okay?"

Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement. Tobi seems to have a way of reassuring the entire room without really trying. He's calming, tender hearted, genuine. You like him already.

"Who wants to start?"

Primrose shoots up out of her chair on the front row and makes her way to the front. Tobi squeezes her shoulder as she passes, and she beams at him.

"Hi, y'all! I'm Primrose."

The room is clearly familiar with the blonde ball of excitement. Everyone yells greetings at her, her energy almost infectious.

"Most of you know my story, but just in case you don't -"

Her eyes flit to you briefly, and she smiles. You half smile back, relaxing slightly.

"I was in a marriage where I suffered domestic abuse. He used to hit me, manipulate me, call me names. You think it, he did it."

She takes a breath, putting the smile back on her face where it's faltered.

"I have some news to share. I'm engaged!"

A few people jump out of their seats to hug her, congratulating her with pats on the back and yelled excitement.

"Thank y'all, thank y'all! I couldn't wait to tell you guys. I just... I never thought that I could ever be happy again. I certainly never thought that I'd ever find the courage to be with another man, after everything. But I've found someone amazing. And he treats me like a queen. So, to anyone who's new here - it is possible. I promise you. Y'all better help me pick out a dress!"

The room erupts into applause, and Primrose smiles so bright you're surprised the lights don't shatter.

After Primrose, an elderly man named Walter takes the stage. He explains his experience in the military, and the trauma and violence he witnessed for years. You learn that he's a recovering alcoholic, who wasn't had a drink for 9 years. He shakes slightly where he stands, leaning against the cane in his hand. You can tell he's lived through hell.

Finally, after Walter, Tobi stands at the lectern. He's the sole survivor of a car accident that killed his two best friends. After struggling to cope, he turned to God, and became a Priest to better help people just like him in his community. He speaks with such ease, such grace. A wave of calm sweeps over the room as everyone listens intently.

He checks the brown leather strapped watch on his right wrist before clicking his tongue.

"Well, folks, that's all the time we have for today! Feel free to stick around and chat to each other, as always. There's coffee and cookies on the table, and Janet made some of her famous honey loaf too. Thanks for coming. Same time next week?"

Everyone agrees in shouts and thumbs up directed towards the front. Slowly, people rise, stacking their chairs away before making their way over to the table where the coffee sits next to the styrofoam cups.

You remain seated for a little longer, catching your breath. Your teeth are digging into your bottom lip, knawing at it anxiously. You suddenly taste pennies, and lick up the blood quickly with your tongue.

Standing up shakily, you fold your chair at its hinges and add it to the stack at the front of the room. A yawn overtakes you, tiredness suddenly settling into your bones.

Coffee. You need coffee.

You make your way over to the tables, timidly smiling at Primrose as she shows off her ring to a small group of people. Just as you reach over and grab an empty cup, you become suddenly aware of a presence behind you.

"Don't drink that."

A warm, rich, booming voice hits your ears. The large, looming presence comes a little closer, towering over you.

"Trust me, honey. It's the worst coffee you'll ever taste in your life."

You know that voice, it's familiar timbre.

Javier Peña.

You turn around to be met with the sight of him peering down at you intently. He's wearing a flannel and blue jeans, heavy boots on his feet. He smells like musk, sandalwood, and the Texan heat.

God, he looks good. He's strikingly handsome. Objectively attractive. Everyone in your town agrees that Javier Peña is one beautiful man.

And seemingly unattainable. Since leaving Lorraine at the altar years ago, no one has heard any word of Javier so much as dating.

"Such a waste," your mom always says. "Gorgeous man like that. He could have anyone he wants!"

And it's true. Chocolate hair, broad shoulders, strong thighs. The man is a heartthrob.

A heartthrob with a secret, apparently.

"Javier?" you question. "What are you doing here?"

It's now you realise that he's here. At the meeting. You've done such a good job of keeping your head down, going relatively unnoticed. And now, staring down at you, is your dad's best friend. So much for covert.

He must see the realisation on your face. Or maybe he notices the way your breathing quickens. Either way, he places a warm palm on your shoulder, looking at you carefully.

"Hey. It's okay," he reassures. "I won't tell if you won't."

You nod meekly, trying to stay calm. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

The basement suddenly feels too small, too dark, too stuffy. The carpet is too scratchy, the chairs too hard, the table too white. You need to get out before your chest caves in.

"You know, if you still want coffee, there's a diner like ten minutes from here. They do really good pie," Javier tells you, distracting you from your impending panic attack.

You take a breath and nod.

"Yeah. Okay. I like pie."

"Come on," he encourages, gesturing at you to lead the way. "Walk with me."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Javier walk steadily side by side in silence, fingers occasionally accidentally brushing each other. After it happens twice, you decide to put your hands in your pockets the rest of the way, ignoring the warmth that radiates off him.

You eventually arrive at Cherry Pie Diner. The neon sign is blinding, shades of bright pink, yellow and blue flashing and flickering. Inside, the white overhead lights illuminate classic red leather booth seats and waitresses in pinafore aprons.

"Here we are. When you go in, ask for JoJo. She'll take care of you," he winks.

You stand stuck in your place on the sidewalk for a minute, processing his words.

"You're not coming in?"

He seems taken aback by your question. Now he's the one processing.

"You... uh - you want me to?"

"I, uh, yeah. I mean... if you're not busy... I just, uh - nevermind. Sorry. Forget I said anything."

"I didn't want to overstep, you know, it, uh- But if it's okay with you... I could do with some coffee."

Javier smiles at you gently, gauging your reaction. When you smile back hesitantly, he pushes open the door to the diner, gesturing at you to head inside.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"What looks good, honey?"

You raise your eyes from the menu you were staring at intently to quirk your brow at Javier.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if anything looked good," he repeats kindly.

"I, um, I'm not sure. What do you recommend?"

"The peach pie," he says without hesitation.

The quick response makes you laugh, the melody of it tugging at Javier's heart strings. He realises, sadly, that he hasn't heard that sound in a hell of a long time.

"Listen, I know it's not anyone's go to," he justifies, "but it's honestly the best thing on the menu. There's nothin' like it."

"Okay," you say with complete certainty. "Peach pie it is."

JoJo is a bubbly, Southern woman with rosy cheeks and a smile that never seems to falter. She takes your orders happily, flirting with Javier like you weren't sat watching, confusion and awkwardness plastered across your face.

"You two seem close," you approach gently, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, I know her husband. JoJo's been serving me here for at least 10 years. Peach pie, every time," he laughs.

"I'm usually a cherry pie girl. Maybe you'll convert me."

You both sip steadily at your coffees, humming in contentment at your first bites of pie. Halfway through your slice, you break the silence.

"Okay, fine. This might be the best pie I've ever had."

"I told you," he smirks. "I'll never lead you wrong, honey. Promise. Not where pie is concerned, anyway."

You finish off your slices in comfortable quiet, neither of you quite sure what to say next.

"So, uh... about tonight..." you begin nervously.

"I won't tell anyone I saw you, cariño. I swear."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Javi. Really."

Javi. The nickname so rarely used, it makes his heart stutter for a second.

"You're... you're not gonna ask what I was doing at that meeting?"

He tilts his head slightly, gazing at you carefully before replying.

"If you wanted to tell me, you would. I'm not gonna push you. These things take time."

He smiles like he knows. You think, maybe, he does.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, sweetheart."

A breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"Was that your first meeting too?"

He shakes his head, soft curls rippling.

"I've been going for a few months. I sneak out of town every week, so I'm pretty sure Chucho thinks I'm having a secret love affair. He doesn't ask questions."

You both laugh, and JoJo's head whips up, her curiosity peaked. She's never heard Javier laugh like this. Sure, he chuckles at her jokes, but the sound doesn't usually reach the corners of the room like that.

"He'd probably love it if you were, you know. Your love life is often a topic of conversation in my house, among many others in our neighbourhood."

He scoffs, and kicks your foot under the table teasingly.

"Man, nothing happens in that damn town, does it?"

"Nothing at all. Think we're overdue a secret love affair from you, Mr Peña. It might liven things up a little."

"Shut it, you," he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater back down over your wrists again.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Think my dad is starting to get worried, you know."

A deep crease appears between his brows abruptly, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I've just been busy, I guess. Tryna sort my shit out," he snickers dryly, no real humour in it.

"So did you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Sort your shit out?"

Now he laughs genuinely, bright smile gracing his cheeks.

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Man, I know the feeling," you reassure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your breathing speeds up slightly, eyes darting around the room. Javier notices, reaching across the booth to grab your hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing comforting patterns on your skin. You take a deep breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"I feel like... like I'm... uh...," he nods at you reassuringly, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "I feel like I'm drowning. I'm barely keeping my head above water at any given moment. And I'm tired, Javi. Fuck, I'm tired."

A warm, salty tear escapes you, running down your cheek. Javi leans forward and brushes it away with his thumb, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

"It's okay, cariño. You're okay," he murmurs. "I get it. God, I get it."

"You do?" you sniffle.

"I do," he confirms. "More than you could ever know. And I know how lonely it feels. But I promise you, sweetheart. You're not alone. Not anymore."

His voice is like warm honey, soothing and golden. It melts into you, releases some of the tension from your shoulders. The tightness in your chest loosens slightly, and you take a deep breath. You find the courage to look at him again, and find that he hasn't taken his eyes off you once. His gaze is like an anchor, tethering you to reality. You surprise yourself by not wanting to shy away from the intensity of it. No, you want more.

Javier lets go of your hand to trace his fingertips up your forearm. He draws patterns carefully, as if he's learning every inch of you, committing you to memory. Like he isn't sure when he'll get to touch you like this again. If he'll get to touch you like this again.

You're still looking at each other, neither of you gathering the courage to look away. It's as if Javi is reading the words off the very surface of your soul. You're not sure you've ever felt so understood in your life. It terrifies you.

Without thinking, you grab a hold of Javier's hand and raise it to your lips, kissing each of his knuckles gently. The tenderness makes his heart ache.

"Hermosa," he sighs almost wistfully.

The sound of his voice snaps you back to the present moment.

"I'm sorry," you stutter, letting go of him. "Fuck, Javi, sorry. I don't - oh, I... fuck."

"Why do you do it?" he asks.

"Do... do what?"

"Apologise for everything. Every other word out of your mouth is 'sorry'," he chuckles affectionately.

"Sorry," you mumble without thinking. You pause, registering your words. The two of you break out into laughter, clutching at your stomachs.

"Are you?"

"Am I...?"

"Are you sorry? Or do you just say it because you think people want to hear it? You can't apologise for your entire existence, cariño."

You look into those warm, chocolate eyes, and realise he's read you for filth. He's right.

"I'm not sorry," you whisper.

He quirks a brow and nods attentively, urging you to continue.

"For... for what I just did. I'm not sorry."

You're praying that he understands what you're trying to say. I'm not sorry for my tender gesture. I'm not sorry for this connection we've made. I'm not sorry for my soft heart.

"I'm not either," he replies, barely above a murmur. You hear him, clear as day.

You reach out, this time, and interlock your fingers with his across the table. His large hand envelopes yours, and he squeezes. It effects you more than it probably should.

JoJo drops a plate behind the counter, the red and white china shattering across the checkerboard floor. The smash snaps you both out of the moment, making you jump. Your heart kicks into overdrive, battering against your ribcage.

"Hermosa, it's alright. Just a plate."

You hear him, but your nervous system doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths become laboured and frantic, and your hold on Javi's hand tightens almost painfully.

"Come on, Peaches, let's get out of here. It's getting late."

Javier stands from his bench seat and pulls you up with him, never once removing his fingers from where they're locked with yours. He shoots a smile over to JoJo, who returns it with glee. The two of you walk across the parking lot, hand in hand, illuminated by the neon light of the diner's sign. The colours dance across Javier's cheekbones, reflecting off the brush of his mustache, painting the rich brown warmth of his hair. He's never looked more handsome.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Peaches."

"Hmm?" Javier asks from where he's leaning against the side of your car, back in the church parking lot.

"You called me Peaches. In the diner."

He nods, smirk etched on his streetlit face.

"Because of the pie."

"Because of the pie," he echoes.

"I like it," you confess quietly. "Peaches."

Javier pushes off the vehicle and stands, towering over you. Without a second thought, he brushes a thumb over your cheekbone in a featherlight touch.

"Sweet like peaches," he murmurs. "Too fuckin' sweet for a world like this one."

You look up at him, breath catching in your throat when you meet his eyes. He's gazing at you with adoration. With tenderness. With so much softness. Your knees go weak with the weight of it all.

It hits you, suddenly. The realisation.

You want to kiss him.

You want to kiss Javier Peña.

You want to kiss him more than you've ever wanted to kiss anyone in your entire life.

You're stood in the parking lot of a church on the outskirts of town with your dad's best friend and you're feeling the closest thing to happy you've felt in months.

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you. The warmth radiating from the older man settles itself in your bones, shielding you from the chill of the night. Just as you tilt your face up towards his, your phone buzzes.

Jumping apart as if you've been caught, you check your messages with shaky hands.

"It's my mom. She thinks I'm with a friend, so she's just checking in. She doesn't like it when I drive in the dark."

The mention of your mother snaps Javier out of his peachy haze.

"You should get back, cariño. It's late. Sorry for keeping you."

"Now who's apologising for no reason?"

He laughs, and you feel like you've won a gold medal. An achievement in its own right.

You climb into the drivers seat of your car, starting up the engine. Just as you're about to leave, Javi taps on the window. You roll it down.

"Same time next week, Peaches?"

"Same time next week, Javi."

You drive away with a smile on your face and a warmth in your stomach, the taste of peach still lingering on your lips. You notice that Javier drives behind you steadily, following you carefully to make sure you get home safe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're staring at the ceiling.

You're plagued by insomnia.

According to the Internet, it goes hand in hand with your PTSD. You make a mental note to work up the courage to ask Tobi about it in the next meeting.

You lie in bed, watching as the sunlight slowly illuminates the room. Usually, you'll make a cup of tea, read a book, watch a TV show. Pace around the room like a caged animal. Count sheep. Do yoga. Listen to music.

Tonight, you take a different approach.

Tonight, you slip a hand under the waistband of your underwear, and replay the way Javi murmured your name in the diner on repeat.

It does the trick.

@frogers @farintonorth @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedrobaby @grace46 @harriedandharassed

[maplemonarchy]

New Life Series! New Life Series!!

Spoilers for the first episode of Wild Life!

If you want to hear rather than read my thoughts and design process, I have also uploaded a speedpaint of this drawing on my YouTube Channel, link here: https://youtu.be/gfsCbVe6kls

I love this team so much. I do want to explain my choices with the design of the characters.

Jimmy is the one that probably needs the most explanation. The colors, of course, come from his default skin. However, thanks to the jokes about Sheriff Jimmy in the first episode of Wild Life, I decided to give him an outfit that resembled a stereotypical "western" outfit. Complete with a bolo tie that shows which life he is on. I also decided to deviate from the common design for Jimmy regarding his bird-like nature (aside from the ear wings) and designed him after the Rito from Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker. Hence, the beak-like nose and the wings that hang down from his arms. If he flies, then his whole arms become wings,

For Scar I have pulled design influence from his Secret Life skin cause my headcanon is that Wild Life Scar is somewhat haunted by Secret Life's events, even if the watchers wiped his memory. Scars shirt has little sunflowers embroidered on it and has the same color scheme as his Secret Life skin's poncho while his scarf has the same colors as his final skin in Secret life. The rest of his skin is meant to look like the skin he is using in Wild Life, which is his default skin. I tried to make his jacket look like a World War II bomber jacket, with mild success. The symbol that keeps track of his hearts is represented by a little patch on his jacket. I've also given Scar his ponytail because I really love that design. Plus, it really gives into the idea that Scar is still living with the events of Secret Life. His hair is so much longer than usual because now he's both used to longer hair and cutting his own hair after living all alone for an entire year. Additionally, I've put the Secret Keeper symbol on his belt.

Lizzie's design is probably the one I've changed the least from her default. Hair is something that I struggle to draw and I half remembered people drawing Lizzie with Sailor Moon-esqe buns in her hair. I did pull references from Empire Season one for parts of her design, such as her gills and the Axolotl sword. The design on her shield is supposed to be a scary axolotl. I've also made Lizzie taller than Scar and Timmy since she was a giant for practically the entire first session. Also, the bow on her chest is the indicator for which life she's on.

[tatumslollipop]

Such a strange girl | yandere!bonnie harper x gn!reader

A/N Note: I hope this is okay and i'm sorry I took so long I always forgot about it 😭 also this was requested by @gh4stfaces

Bonnie P.O.V

Eversince I became pretty I've been having boys throwin themselves down their knees to have me but one person has caught my eye they are not like anyone I don't know how to explain it. They are like a goddess. Their name is y/n and they just moved here and what a coincidence not they are in all my classes. I just have to have them and there is no one gettin in my way even if it means I have to use a little magic. But now I need to focus on gettin to school.

Y/N P.O.V

"Oh fuck" I say when I look at the clock it's 8am school starts at 8am I quickly get myself ready, get my stuff and run to school. "This cannot be happening on my first day" I say to myself while running into the school and making it to my first class history with mister johnson. I knock at the door and see a gorgeous girl opening it and it feels like I've seen her before but I can't quite place her. My mood falls when I hear Mr Johnson say: " Look who decided to join us finally please take a seat beside bonnie. The next time you run late you are getting detention you hear me?" "Yes sir" I say and then sit beside the girl that opened me the door named Bonnie. She smiles at me and I smile back. When the lesson finally ended which felt like forever I try talking to her but at my luck some guy starts talking to her first. But at her expression I could tell she wasn't very happy about it and quickly pushed him away and started talking to me. "Hi Y/N i'm Bonnie as you already know... Well Mr Johnson assigned me to give you a tour around the school so we miss chemistry with miss brown which atleast for me isn't such a shame." at the last remark we both giggled and then she showed me around the school. While we walked around the school ground we talked for a bit I found out that she had a friendgroup of 4 people Nancy,Sarah,Rochelle and her of course and that she loves nature. She even invited me to sit with her friends at lunch and since I know no one else here of course I said yes.

Bonnie P.O.V

This is it I finally talked to them after weeks of only briefly seeing her moving here with her family. Now really wanted to wait for them to get to know me and us making a connection that way but I just can't wait because what if some guy just starts talking to them and they go out I can't let that happen of course I need to protect whats rightfully mine. I mean they would understand right? Maybe not but I know what's good for them and i'm gonna push them just a little. So i'm gonna practice a love spell on them. But she doesn`t need to know that. Well I took a few streaks of their hair off their shirt while in class and secured it. So I did the spell and also made a sort of love fragrance that I read about the smell makes the person never wanting to leave ur side and thats exactly what Y/N needs. So lets see how it goes.

Y/N P.O.V

I cant stop thinking about her.. about Bonnie. Shes like a goddess I just love her so much. God how can I even say that I dont even know her but something inside me tells me shes the right person for me that we are gonna be together forever for eternity. Nothing really nothing is gonna keep me away from her. She`s such a strange girl. God I really need to sleep now.

Bonnie P.O.V

It worked. It REALLY worked. They are head over heels for me. I cant even get them off of me not like I want to either. Its perfect they`re perfect. This is perfect. And they are all mine and if someone gets in the way there might be another missing person poster up on the board. Thats just what a good girlfriend does right?

[tonysslut]

ugh what if sugar daddy Tony ends up falling in love with you! he notices when he realizes that sometimes he asks you out with no intention of having sex, he just wants your company, also he notices he's allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of you too many times... and he thinks he's screwed because the deal was no feelings. so one night, while he's playing with your hair while you lay on his chest after a sex marathon, he decides to tell you - and he's taking his time to feel the softness of your curls, the smell of your shampoo, the weight of your body against his, your warmth, because he thinks it's the last time... and he tells you he's got feelings and that he understands if you want to leave. but surprise surprise you've got feelings as well. and my god he's the happiest man alive when you tell him that! and he asks you to be his girlfriend ❤️

I love this so much 🥹

pls do not copy or repost my work

tony stark masterlist

he wasn't sure when his feelings for you shifted.

maybe it was when he took you out for a late-night drive for the first time. the way you smiled at him as your hair blew in the wind, all your worries disappearing as he drove

or when the two of you stayed up all night playing a card game you showed him. your determination to beat him made his heart swell.

it also could've been the first time he made you his plus one to an art show he was invited to. you looked beautiful, glowing under the lights as you admired each piece of art, not realizing tony was admiring you.

all he knew was that he was in love with you. he no longer wanted to have you around just for sex. he wanted to take you out on dates, spend sundays laying on the couch as you watch those trash reality tv shows that he loves but will never admit out loud. he wanted to watch as you danced in the kitchen while you cooked, a glass of wine in your hand. he wanted you, every part of you.

he had already been breaking the rules you two set, allowing himself to open his deepest parts to you while you comforted him on his bad days. but you never reproached him for it, just letting him vent as your soft eyes locked with his.

you laid on his chest, tracing light figures on his chest as he played with your hair, coiling it around his finger and letting go to watch it bounce back to its natural form .occasionally roaming lower to run his fingers up and down your arm.

he was prolonging the silence, wanting to remember this moment clearly before he ruined it by finally confessing his love for you. he never wanted to forget the way you felt against him.

"i need to tell you something," he whispered, instantly feeling you tense up.

you knew this day was coming. he'd finally gotten bored with you, just as you expect him to. a sinking feeling settled deep in your stomach as you braced yourself for his next words. you'd never admit your feelings to him, knowing the biggest rule you two agreed to was that it was never to turn into anything more.

"this past year has been the best year of my life." you felt his chest vibrate as he spoke, trying to memorize the way his heartbeat felt against your skin. "i've treasured every day we've spent together, always looking forward to the next time i see you."

you tried to keep your composure, but his words made your eyes fill with tears. you weren't ready to end this, you'd never be ready.

tony took a deep breathe, scooting further up the bed so he could sit up. you moved away, grabbing the sheets to cover yourself as you sat in front of him and quickly wiped away the tears that managed to escape.

"we agreed that you'd be my plus one to my events and to casual dinners here and there." he looks at you, and you nod in agreement.

"but as time went on, we spent more and more time together, doing far more than just dinners." he cracks a small smile that just causes your heart to break all over again. "i think we blurred the lines on what this agreement was."

you brace yourself for his next words, trying to figure out how to get out of his place as fast as possible. you couldn't handle sitting in front of him any longer, knowing what was coming.

"i don't know what's going to happen next, but all i know, is that i love you. i don't want anymore agreements or contracts, i want you. all of you, and i want you to have all of me."

your eyes widen as you gasp. this whole time you thought your love for him was one sided.

tony couldn't read your reaction, he couldn't tell how you felt until you jumped at him. arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed your lips against his.

he instantly melted into you, kissing you back with just as much passion and love. he moved your legs so you could wrap them around his waist, keeping you as close as possible.

"i thought you were getting rid of me." you whispered as you pulled away, closing your eyes as tony held your face in his hands, wiping away your stray tears.

"i would never, you're stuck with me." he teased, causing you to smile as you kissed him again. the relief you felt was something you couldn't put into words.

"i love you." you said, realizing you never said it back.

tony eyes lit up, pupils dilating as your words washed over him.

"say it again, please. i've been waiting so long to hear those words come out of your mouth."

"i. love. you." you held his face and kissed him after each word.

he flashed the brightest smile you'd ever seen. in that moment you knew he was the one for you. you couldn't wait to see what life had in store for the two of you.

the ending isn't great, but i really like this. i just love love 🥹

likes, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated! ੈ♡˳

[thatfreshi]

"Deny Him" (Uni AU P. 2)

This might be the weirdest party you've been invited to.

tw - alcohol/drugs slightly mentioned, light description of sex, hints at abuse

@justporo

You're a little shocked, immediately being invited to a party by a model who doesn't even know you. Astarion looks you up and down, his eyes narrowed.

"Okay, well you most definitely cannot go like this. Come darling, I'm sure I have some clothes to spare."

He doesn't wait for you, simply beginning to walk, expecting you to follow. You do indeed follow, and he just keeps talking.

"So what do you think of our dear Shadowheart?"

"She doesn't seem to like you."

He shrugs.

"Not many people do. I'm an acquired taste, for only the most refined palettes."

He goes into his coat pocket, grabbing his room key, quickly entering.

"I know just the thing to give you, mainly because I'm so tired of it sitting in my closet.

The room is quite nice. You put together in your head that RAs must get their own rooms, because it's set up more like an apartment than a dorm. The two of you walk into his bedroom, which is surprisingly empty. It's also quite dark, as he took the liberty of putting up blackout curtains. Astarion opens his closet, which is full of random mismatched designer pieces, ranging over the past six years. He's precise as he moves the hangers around, finding a floral jacket.

"Here. You can keep it. It's so 2017 anyways."

You don't fully understand what that means, and you're not sure if being 'so 2017' is an insult, but you go along with it. The jacket fits pretty well for it not being tailored to your body.

"And if you ever need some extra money, you can probably sell that for a quick five hundred dollars."

Your eyes go wide, suddenly very scared to ruin a piece of fabric. Why is he giving a stranger something so expensive? He continues to look around in his nightstand, you're not sure for what. You start trying to remember what you've read about this man. There's been a lot of talk online recently on if his eyes are actually red, or if they're just contacts.

"So, are your eyes really red?"

He laughs.

"Gods no. That's the magic of editing my dear. Technically they're brown, but they look red in some lighting, and my editors have decided to play into it."

"And the hair?"

"Oh, it looks far too healthy to be bleached. All natural darling. Have you never seen an albino before?"

"I guess I haven't."

Without saying anything, he finally finds what he's looking for, a short gold necklace adorned with opals.

"Now, I do want this back, and if you break it I will ruin your life, promise."

He clasps is around your neck, hooking it properly on the first try.

"There. Decent enough I suppose. Besides, I don't have time to give you a proper makeover. You do have good bone structure though. Anyways, off we go!"

Shadowheart was right, he really doesn't stop for anything. It's a little intriguing though, how fast his brain works. All of his movements are so precise, decisive. Even something as simple as opening the door, the way his fingers wrap around the doorknob is carefully thought out. It's as if someone's following him, looking for mistakes, jotting down everything he gets wrong.

The two of you make some small talk on the way to the parking garage, which he doesn't seem all that interested in. He still walks in front of you, his coat leading close behind him because of just how fast he walks.

"So, what exactly is this party you're taking me to?"

"Just something Szarr put together for him and a couple of designer friends. The seven of us though, we're expected to be everywhere he is."

You can't see him, but he says it through gritted teeth.

"Why?"

"I've always assumed it's to show off. He likes to make it clear that he has refined taste in models, especially to his peers."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Your question stops him in his tracks, as if no one's ever asked. You almost run into his back due to the sudden stop.

"No."

He says it slowly, and continues walking again, cautious at first. Nothing else is said of it. When you approach Astarion's car, it's more run-down than you expected. It's clearly an older model, something that's been repaired multiple times. You take the shotgun seat. The car ride is silent, and you mainly watch the details of his hands as he drives. They're a little shaky, slender. You have to admit, they're quite attractive. You watch as he shifts gears when you get onto the main street. It's almost peaceful, the silence, the city lights at night. Of course, until there are red and blue lights behind you.

"Shit. I'm already going to be late."

He hisses, pulling over to the side of the road. Oddly enough, he doesn't go to grab his driver's license. Instead, he just rolls down his window, waiting for the officer to come up to him. You watch in awe at how he just doesn't seem to care.

"License and- oh not you again."

He slides his shades down.

"Hello darling. Nice evening, isn't it?"

"I can't keep letting you get away with speeding."

"Oh, what's five miles over the speed limit?"

"Illegal, that's what it is."

"I'm sure I could make it worth your while if you let me off with a warning."

His words become slow and drawn out, like nectar from his tongue.

"You're lucky you know people around here. Go on, get out of here."

And with that, the officer leaves, and Astarion pulls back onto the road, not even waiting for the police car to leave. You're in awe of his audacity.

"Did you just... did you just try to bribe him with sexual favors?"

"Hm, did I? Bad habits are hard to kill I suppose."

He doesn't say anything else, leaving you to ponder his actions. Perhaps he's a little spoiled at his level of fame, but there's something else, and you can't quite put your finger on it. Before you can come to any kind of conclusion, you're parked outside some unassuming bar.

"Here we are darling. Don't worry, this place has a basement level that's much nicer than meets the eye."

When you make it inside, there's a single bartender cleaning beer mugs. Astarion gives her a nod, and walks to the back, where a door leads to a small staircase.

"After you."

His smirk is different now, almost as if he changed it on purpose. You walk down, and he follows closely behind. The sounds of music and chatter fill your ears, and the smell of smoke hits your nostrils, almost making you cough. You try to clear your throat, earning a chuckle from the model. When you reach the floor, the room is filled with a thin haze of smoke, with plenty of rich-looking people draping themselves across velvet chairs, talking about whatever yacht they just invested in and what stocks they're insider trading.

"Well, look who decided to show up. Szarr's been looking for you."

You recognize this woman as Aurelia, another one of the seven. Her reddish-brown hair is put back in multiple braids. Astarion is slightly tense at Aurelia's words.

"What did he say?"

For the first time since you met him less than a hour ago, he sounds uncertain. The woman meets your eyes, and then looks back at him.

"Private business. I'd be quick about it. Sure being late won't help matters much."

He sighs.

"Alright, well take my friend Tav here. I'll be back."

Just like that, he's gone.

"Tav? What a fun name. It's Aurelia, but I'm sure you've heard. My, my, he picked a gorgeous one, didn't he?"

It's almost as if she's looking right through you. Then, you process her words.

"What do you mean 'picked?'"

"We often scout for other models, for lesser shows that Caz- Szarr, is involved in. His Winter showcase is coming up, and Astarion hasn't exactly been pulling his weight as of recent. I assume he found you to try and appease him. After all, your bone structure is wonderful."

The same thing he told you earlier.

"I assume though that he was sloppy, and didn't tell you this beforehand."

"No, he didn't mention it."

"Well don't worry. Szarr will give you the whole spiel on why you should work for him, the fame and glamor, the money."

She gets close to you, wrapping her hand around your ear.

"Deny him."

Before you can ask her what she could possibly mean, or why you should deny him, Astarion comes back with Szarr in tow. Of course, you've never seen him in person, but his energy is quite off-putting. His black hair is slicked back, and his neck is adorned in many expensive chains.

"And this is Tav? A pleasure."

Without asking, he leaves a kiss on your hand, lasting on your skin a little too long.

"I'm sure you've seen my work, and my gorgeous children."

Something is wrong. Extremely wrong. You don't know what, but his voice makes you feel nauseous. Why would he call them his children?

"Of course. Although, I will admit I'm not much for fashion."

His mouth droops slightly, but it's all an act. He already knew what you were going to say.

"What a shame. And here I was just thinking about how your shoulders would make my latest dress look spectacular. Well, I'll leave you all to socialize then."

As he begins to walk away, he lingers by Astarion for a moment, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"And perhaps lay off the champagne tonight? You're looking a little puffy."

His hand grips the pale man's shoulder, causing him to wince a little, before he disappears into the crowd.

"What did you say to them Aurelia?"

"Just that you were trying to pimp them out to our lovely boss."

"God damn it, can you just keep your mouth shut?!"

You must look hurt, because when Astarion meets your eyes again, he almost looks guilty.

"It's fine. I'll find some other way to get back in his good graces. Apologies Tav. Most people jump at the opportunity to model for a man like that. I figured you would be that same."

"Like I said, you're losing your touch. Soon enough you won't be his favorite anymore."

The whole thing is making your head spin. This whole thing with Szarr, it almost feels like a cult. Your anxiety is spiking, your body screaming at you to leave. You listen, and turn to make a quick exit back up the stairs.

"Tav, wait."

Light footsteps follow you up the stairs.

"No, this is weird! Whatever's going on here, it's not right. Something isn't right."

As you hit the top floor, his hand grips around your wrist, gracefully turning you to look back at him. He was right, in the moonlight his eyes do look red.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you into all of this, I've just been a little... desperate. It really is fine, but my plan wasn't to make you uncomfortable."

"How do you work with him? He seems, disgusting."

He looks off to the side, clearly thinking about what to say. Instead of speaking though, his eyes meet yours again, his gaze bouncing between yours and your lips.

"Aurelia was right. You are gorgeous."

The tone suddenly shifts, and his hands creeps up from your wrist to your face, pulling you into a kiss. You give in, the attraction for him somehow growing. He laces a hand in your hair, and soon you're both stumbling back out to his car, forgetting about the events from moments ago. The two of you fall into the back seat of the small car. Maybe you go along with it since you haven't slept with anyone in a while, or maybe because you simply can't pass up the opportunity that's been presented to you. It's mind-altering though, the sex. The same way he is with everything else, he's precise and decisive. He knows every spot on your body as if he's studied it his whole life. When things wind down, and you both catch your breath, something in his eyes shifts, pushing his hair back into place.

"We should get back. Sure you have a busy day tomorrow."

With that, you're putting your top on in the back seat of a stranger's car. When you do get back in the shotgun seat and look over at him, you remember the police stop, and what he said to you after.

Bad habits are hard to kill.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

SKRT SKRT

Konichiwassup mate! How do you do this bright evening! I am simply buzzed with excitement because I've finally managed to shake off my post exam exhaustion after sleeping through one whole day~

I was wondering what kind of medieval/mystic being our Ateez boyfriends might be and here are my thoughts:

1. Hongjoong: Fairy. A garden fairy to be exact. Like LOOK at his tiny ass (we're the same height) HE'S SO SMOL (He's actually pretty tall) HOW CUTE! (Well that's true.)

Also I can imagine him fly around in the garden perfecting the aesthetics of the place. And no, he'll not keep some basic ass fancy grass, nuh uh, natural vegetation and grass😌

2. Seonghwa: a Heavenly Nymph. Bro is gorgeous beyond words. His beauty is so sublime he can NEVER be just a mere earthly being. He'd be the most beautiful nymphs of all but equally as deadly. Crpss him and you might just lose a limb.

Yeosang: Forest Elf. Okay hear me out. LONG BLOND HAIR YEOSANG. AND WE ALL KNOW HOW BEAUTIFUL THE COLOUR GREEN LOOKS ON HIM. But yes he seems like he'll be the forest protector elf. (Maybe Hongjoong and Yeosang play together idk)

4. Yunho: Dragon. Bro is dragon coded. Like he's SO dragon. Ouu but he'll ne such a sweet dragon tho. Maybe he let's all the forest creatures sleep near him during chilly winters since he naturally exudes warmth.

5. Woosan: Nine Tail Foxes. They're a pair. Do not separate. I'm thinking Wooyoung would be the Nine Tailed fox that goes "Ohhh you look delicious. I wonder what you taste like!" And San would be like "Wooyo we talked about not scaring random travellers for fun anymore." T~T The Yin-Yang Foxies

6. Minki: The mountain diety. He's the one in charge of the forest that the boys live in. Though he's just a babie!:(( like one day a random bunny will he minding his business when he comes across Mountain diety Mingi yapping about his problems to a sympathetic Seonghwa while pouting.

7. Jongho: Moon Spirit. He descends down to the forest at night to sing to all the creatures. The animals sometimes bring him gifts like leaves and shiny pebbles. Has kept them all in a secure box back home.

HI HIIII IM SO GLAD YOU'RE BACK AHAHA I MISSED THIS

okay but i love your brain? ateez as medieval/mystical creatures? hello??

okay i've always thought about demons and darker stuff when it comes to hongjoong but now that you say it.... he fits the concept of a garden fairy so well? tiny lil joong (says i who'd look like a dwarf next to him) with his little trinkets and colours he's so fairy coded actually you've changed my perspective of him.

and seonghwa-- you're absolutely right about this one. prettiest nymph in the area and also the deadliest. too pretty for you. too pretty to belong to the earth. im glad all of us agree on that LOL

i always think fairy when i think of yeosang. fairy or angel. but forest elf is such a cute concept i can def entertain it (esp if it's long blonde hair yeosang wearing the colour green you've found me weakness). he would def be friends with hongjoong, often spotted hanging out with him. seonghwa would sometimes join them hehehehehe

yunho! dragon! coded! TAKE ME HOME!! my gut told me i had to make him a dragon and its worked so well (considering i just became an atiny when i wrote take me home, deciding his animal form should be a dragon is sth im a little proud of). you bet he'd have everyone lined up next to him in the winters for him to keep them warm and snug hoho

omg woosan as foxes yes doesn't help they look like actual foxes. nine-tailed fox duo? even better. yin-yang foxes? im violently sobbing right now. wooyoung would def scare the villagers away only for san to scold him afterwards and he would be like :D

omgg minki mountain deity trust us to give mingi some mighty role when he's literally a babie :(( but yes! yapping about his problems to anyone who sits with him long enough and the mountain creatures be like ah shit here we go again :') sometimes yunho the dragon would find this mountain deity and they would hang out im so soft rn

jongho. moon. spirit. lemme kiss your brain. descends down each night to sing the creatures to sleep? (i need him to sing me to sleep too) im gonna write a whole something about this one day just you watch BUT OMGG imagine its winters and all of the ateez are hanging out next to yunho the dragon and jongho joins them and for a while they all hang out until its time to sleep and jongho sings them to sleep and watches his hyungs with those (◠ ◡ ◠) eyes im gonna cry

[dailyreverie]

My beautiful, my wonderful, my amazing Jul🥰

I’m so happy you’re getting back to writing again! 🥰

Please may I request:

75: standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can't reach your lover's lips

With Andrew’s Spidey please ☺️🕷️ tall boyfriend & short girlfriend cliche coming in hot 🥺🥺

Friendly

A/N: Li!!! Surprise, I'm your secret santa! MERRY BELATED CHRISTMAS!!! (and sorry I was so late!) This was a whole journey since I really wanted to gift you some enemies to lovers and I've actually never done that before lol if you only knew how many plots and characters went through, and then you requested this and I was finally illuminated my the gods (aka Andrew Garfield mostly). I really really hope you like it! Also, thanks to my lovely wife @nadja-antipaxos for being an amazing beta!!

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 1.4 k

Could you call Peter Parker your enemy, when all he does is make your heart feel like it was going to come out of your chest with pure rage? Yes, yes you can. Peter Parker is your sworn enemy ever since he stepped into your class all those semesters ago and decided to take your spot as the top student.

He outsmarts you, every single time, in every class, and every chance he gets; you even have come to the conclusion that he’s only waiting for you to let him show how much better than you he is, the tiniest opportunity to hold on to make it about himself. Everything is a competition when it comes to your rivalry with Peter. You are sure your whole class hates you both by now since you both end up in debates in every class trying to beat the other one round after round of fact-dropping.

And yet he’s so nice, so flawlessly and naturally nice. Always sending you a smile and a wave when you cross each other in the halls, with his perfectly messed-up hair, his soft shirts, and his always sleepy brown eyes. You loathe him.

It's only natural that you would end up being stuck on a project together, working on it forcing you to spend a whole afternoon together as you try and decide whose idea to use; which book to use, what font color, which argument was better, anything and everything ending in at least 10 minutes of going back and forth.

It is when you are on minute 12 deciding whether to use the book you want or the website he found for your research, going back and forth when you get tired of it. You can’t stand it anymore. “Choose whatever you want then, I’m done.” You stand up from the table, grab your bag, and walking away. 

“Oh, come on! Where are you going?”

“To the roof.” You admit with your back already to him, as if going to the roof was nothing, just as it was for him. 

Peter sees you go with just a chuckle. “Have fun!” He says when your back is all he sees on the distant horizon. Because you won't take long, right? You only needed some fresh air, he guesses.

But minutes go by and you don’t come down, minutes that turn into almost an hour, and with that, the cold winter evening starts to roll around all while your jacket is hanging on the back of your chair. Peter hates to admit it, but his leg keeps bouncing faster with every minute that goes by and you don’t come back. Could you still be up there on the roof? Were you really five floors high sitting there all by yourself?

You were ridiculous, storming out like that. Yes, ridiculous, and Peter has to remind himself that, because suddenly the idea of you out there, up there, completely alone on a New York City rooftop fills his body with a hollow feeling.

He mumbles a curse after a couple more minutes when his hands were already tugging at his hair. Damn you, spidey sense. He storms off, jacket in hand and feet almost sprinting through every floor he goes up.

Quiet meets him when he reaches the roof, and indeed, there you are leaning against the bricks of the roof wall that overlook the city. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumble curling further into yourself when you see him, rolling your eyes when you meet his. “Go away, Peter.”

“See, the thing is I can’t.” With long steps he joins you, standing next to you with his gaze looking straight forward, stretching his hand to give you your jacket. “I can’t let you be by yourself on a roof, there are crazy people here.”

“You don’t have to do it.” You accept the jacket, though, crossing your arms across your chest once you have it on and leaning against the fence again.

“I kind of do, it’s my job as your friendly neighbor.” You try to guess what he means by that just by looking at him. Peter only shrugs, a guilty smile on his face. “It’s my fault you are here. I may be trying to beat you in class but I’m not gonna let someone push you from up here, doesn’t seem like a fair win.”

His sarcasm is loud and clear, and it makes you both chuckle. “Ah, so you didn’t come to do that yourself?”

“Okay, why is it always like this?” The change of mood in his voice startles you, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be seen. “What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

“Because you get on my nerves, Peter! You always have to be the smarter one, and the one with the final word. Every time I say something it’s like I don’t even matter as soon as you open your mouth!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“I’m not done.” You swallow. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep myself casual about it, because there have been so many times where I know I’m right, and that you have to know it too, yet you keep going on and on and I get mad and it really, really makes me hate you so much.”

You breathe once you are done, your eyes almost shining with tears with all the frustration finally out of your system. But when you look him in the eyes, soft and brown and without an ounce of threat in them again, genuinely listening to you with the slightest hint of an amused smile in them. Then, you are reminded of the latest truth: ”but you keep making it really hard to hate you.”

Facing each other now, you have to take a deep breath to regain your composure. Peter stays quiet, his face unmoving with the same smile showing through his eyes. “What?” You find yourself asking, trying to read him, but he only smiles. Right, that’s why you hated him.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, I just-” His head does a little wobble and his eyes finally move away from yours, a small laugh escaping through his lips when words fail him. “It’s ridiculous.” 

“I’m ridiculous?” Your eyebrows shot up your forehead, waiting for him to explain.

“No! I am, this is! I never- ughh!” He grabs your shoulders, maybe to ground himself after his nonsense ramble, maybe to feel you. You try not to give it too much thought, since his touch alone is sending electricity through your veins, you don’t need to add an explanation on top of that. “I never planned on you to hate me, that was not what that was for. I was doing all that because you… you are so smart and so clever and witty and… and I thought maybe if I answer to what you say then maybe you would think I was smart too.” 

“Oh,” there’s a bit of doubt in your voice, a strain that tells him that his plan was not precisely working. 

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You are forgiven.” You smirk, and with that, you both relax. “When did it turn into a competition then? Because it certainly did.”

“When I saw you smile every time you won.” Peter huffs a laugh and shrugs as if confessing that to you was an obvious statement, not something that would turn your stomach upside down with butterflies fluttering all over your chest. “You have a very nice smile.”

You take a step towards him, standing almost chest to chest, so close that you can see his throat bobbing as he licks his lips. Your body seems to move without you commanding it to do so, lifting your heels from the ground to try and reach him, any part of him. He sees that, and all he does about it is smile.

“Damn you, Parker,” is all you are able to say before you are standing on your tiptoes and being pulled towards him, with his hands holding your back to help you keep your balance as he kisses you, dipping down to find your lips in the middle. Your hands grab onto his neck, for support and to feel him closer, to be able to hold onto something while your lips move so in sync with each other. 

Whatever competition you had with each other is forgotten, and it’s like all that fighting made him know you better since he knows exactly where to move his hands, when to deepen the kiss, when to squeeze you closer to him, keeping you wanting more of him even after only minutes of knowing what kissing him was like.

So, could you call Peter Parker your enemy, when all he does is make your heart beat so fast? No, maybe you could not, as it turns out it was not rage, you were just in love.

🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[makriiii]

A kinship, of sorts. (Frank Heck × freader)

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: As a member of the O’Driscoll's, the handy work for Colm led you places far and wide, which thereby led to meeting folks on a spectrum far and wide. As it was now, you found yourself having to choose between the life you wanted with the man you desired or escaping the life that chose you.

Authors note: This was initially a oneshot idea, which spiraled :') it's also so hard to find pictures of this man

Warnings: 18+, cursing, guns, nothing too bad yet..

Tags: Slight slow burn, found family, eventual smutt.

♡

(You can skip this if you'd like.)

This is something I've been thinking about writing for a while after I saw an old painting that gave me the idea.

I also decided I'd incorporate that plot into this Frank Heck fanfic I wanted to write, since I've never seen anyone write a fanfic about him (cries)

For those who don't know, he's a deleted character, but you'll see him on the collectable gunslinger cards in game. I think he's sexy hot and cool so therefore I will write down my fantasies about him🤑

Anywho, because he is a deleted character, and 1911 Jack only gives a short story about him, I believe he is open for a lot of interpretation.

So, I wanted to base heavily him off of Doc Holliday, of whom I also believe to be a certified sexy master, plus he respects women so I'm like aguhhh 😫 however Doc Holliday has an intellect and wit on a level I could only hope to match, but I will do my best :)

This is also something you could take to be part of y/n's backstory in caught. If you'd like it to be cannon or not cannon to the caught story, that's up to you since I didn't write anything about it in caught. I like to keep y/n's character open as much as possible, so you guys never feel alienated from any backstory elements of my own choosing.

But enough from me, read my story 😈

♡

"For the last time," grunted your fellow O'Driscoll, his tone serious compared to the two that chuckled lightly beside him as you rode up. "Get out of here kid, we got no business with you."

You raised a brow as you got off your horse to see what the commotion was about with your gang members and this... random kid.

He nearly buckled at the knees, his hands together in prayer. "But why can't I?" He begs, hoping his words would strike a chord. "I know how to shoot and steal! I can help you guys."

The boy, average in height and a bit unkempt, looked to be about fourteen or fifteen as he pleaded at the feet of Cormac. A gruff and often stern Irish man, not the one you'd go asking for things of this nature.

"You want to join us?" You question with a disbelieiving smirk. "What on God's green earth for?"

"Finally!" His sputtering siezed as he whipped around to meet your face, the one who let him speak his mind. Though you could tell he instantly questioned you due to your gender. "You ride with them?"

If the iron at your sides didn't make it obvious, you weren't sure what else would. "Sometimes I wish I didn't." You tried making it sound displeasurable, as he seemed to be one of the young men who liked the ideal of being an outlaw.

"Oh, please miss!" Now his badgering was directed solely towards you, but not before Cormac ruffled his hair harshly and pushed him aside.

He and your other two buddies scoffed in disbelief at the kids incessant pleading and started heading off, ushering you with them. "Colm wants this done today, don't waste your time on him."

You nodded, giving the kid one last glance before following them off the veranda.

Before you knew it, you felt your shirt being tugged at from behind, a desperate attempt and a ballsy show of determination.

You were quick to turn around and glare at the boys unduly behavior. "Now is that the best way to ask something of someone?" You question harshly, fixing your shirt.

Your buddies hadn't noticed your absence behind them, as they kept on in their direction, leaving you and this boy to conversate without interruption.

"You're the only one who seems to listen, so please hear me out, would ya?" His gaze turned soft and mushy, like you had just stolen and sucked down his candy. Tears were in the forecast if you weren't mistaken and here you were, feeling somewhat bad for him.

Glancing back once more, you finally engaged him fully. "Whats your name, boy?"

"Nathaniel. Nathaniel Clarke, ma'am." His voice shaky but hopeful.

"And where are your parents, Nathaniel?" That question seemed to shake him up more, though he didn't let it show for long. You could tell he wanted to be tough.

"Dead, Miss." His hazel eyes fixed on the ground as he dug his heel into the warped wood below him. "Doctor said he couldn't do nothin' for 'em."

"And this is the life you think they would've wanted you to turn to?"

Once again, no eye contact as he hesitated.

"I reckon not."

You huffed out a great deal of your guilt that was slowly building with each question. "Then take my advice and find yourself honest work. This ain't some rough and tumble fun, it's your life. Go find some cattle ranching work, somethin' or rather."

Breaking his eye contact with the ground, he finally met your eye. Searching for any semblance that you might change your mind. But now it seemed you'd finally broken and tamed the boy.

"I-" he mutters, perhaps now rethinking his decision. You gave him a bit of patience before checking behind you again, the rest of the boys nearly out of sight behind a building.

"Listen, kid, you wait here and think about it. If you're here when I get back, I'll consider it." You caved. Unwillingly, but you caved nonetheless. You saw in him yourself, and that did you in.

He shot up like a rocket and nodded, more than elated with that prospect.

"Okay!" He pumps his fist with victory and immediately situates himself on a bench no more than a few feet away. "I promise I'll be here when you're done."

The fire in his eyes and the excitement nearly made you smile, it was contagious, yet you knew what taking a path like yours would entail.

You turned and picked up your pace to catch up with the rest of the men, the walk giving you time to reflect.

As happy as he was, you could not share the sentiment for long. You debated wether you should come back at all. You didn't want this for a boy like him, his whole life still open as a plain. Not narrowed or dimmed to a single path of stone.

All you could do was hope he would find himself something better to do. Yet, the thought remained, if he didn't - would he find a different, possibly worse person to beg, one that would accept?

You felt responsible for a kid you had just now met, worried for his well being.

---

The town lay quiet and dim, only noises from the saloon sounded throughout the place. Fog had picked up and it was no doubt late.

You, Cormac, Conor and Willis were all far from home - or atleast the area that you were better familiar with. You were in Blackwater, the up and coming city where leads were plentiful.

"Whats the time, Cormac?" You asked, fighting off a yawn as you trudged through the slightly damp dirt below.

"Quarter to one." He responds, his voice heavy with exhaustion. The lot of you had just gotten done with an array of things. Gambling, negotiating and sorting some... 'pal's' of yours out. "We oughta get back soon to Valentine."

"Lest we want Colm to have our balls for it." Willis starts giggling while gesturing to his lower parts, which riles up Conor.

You couldn't believe the four of you were the ones Colm entrusted his most important work to. Perhaps Cormac and you, but Conor and Willis were just the two you babysat together.

Both of them had their humor, some of which you found funny, but not on this particular night. Cormac neither, though a bit harsh, he was calmer like yourself, leading to a better partnership between the two of you.

"No one unpaid would willingly take a look at those, but perhaps you'd both quiet down without them." You chime mockingly, rubbing your tired eyes. Not often did you stay up so late due to the trade off of getting up early.

Cormac stayed quiet, but you could tell he enjoyed your retort.

"We'd pay you to nab our balls! Itd be much more enjoyable than Colm doing it." Blurts Conor, getting quite the rise out of Willis. Their accents making them sound ever so silly.

Your horse was further away from where they had tied theirs, thankfully, leaving you guys to split not long after Conor and Willis's joking.

Cormac shoved Conor and Willis away toward their horses for you and nodded your way as you separated.

"I won't be coming back tonight to camp, I have business elsewhere, Cormac."

"That's fine. But Colm'll want you back in Valentine in due time." He replies, arranging himself to get up on his horse. "I'll tell him."

"Aw, don't tell us you're leaving again, y/n!" Willis pouts, whether he was serious or not you'd never tell. "She's goin' off to cheat on us again."

"With that Mr. High and Mighty?" Conor fires, annoyed in your choice of men.

"Who else you think? Dunderhead."

Conor slaps his friends shoulder, glaring. "Colm's gonna get fed up with your eloping soon, y/n."

"What can't two fine lads such as ourselves offer that he can?"

"Precisely. " Conor agrees, "two for one deal."

You sighed, they were cleaning your ears right off with all their badgering. "You both have a face only a mother could love."

"Ahh," Conor hissed out, "let me show you what a real man can do."

"Yeah and what about you taking a look at our-" Slapped upside the head by Cormac, he finally relented, a muffled snicker coming from him and Willis.

"Good riddans, you bothersome bastards." You couldn't help but laugh after all their talk, only to get shut down by Cormac.

You thanked him and made your way back to your horse. As you put away your earnings, aloof and in a rather good mood despite the fatigue, you heard soft snores.

You listened for a second, confused on whether you were hearing things or if someone was laid out sleeping close by. A drunkard probably.

When you peeked around your horse through the dark, on the bench, the realization slapped you in the face.

There was that Clarke boy. Asleep but stationed right where he promised he'd be.

Observing him for a short while, you thought on it again. The option of just leaving still available.

He slept peacefully. His hat over his face and his pistol hidden by his grasp on it.

It crushed you - the decision that was to be made. He had waited all day for you to come back. His determination from earlier evident, no lack of it at all.

Hesitating, you finally walked back up the steps and sat beside him.

It was quiet out, peaceful, despite the ambiance of the saloon.

You thought of what to say, of what his life would be like with the gang, with the O’Driscolls. You may ride with them but you didn't think them good. But that's why you rode with them, you weren't neither.

With a light shake on his shoulder, he jolted up, which took you by slight surprise as well.

He fixed his hat quickly and shakes himself out of his drowsy state. "You see? I waited!"

"So is evident." You couldn't help but smile at his excitement, but still the guilt ate at you. "I'll let you ride with me for a bit, but then, we are finding you a proper place of employment."

"You mean it, really?" He questions, his face serious but excited.

"I do." You got up, returning to your horse, the Clarke boy scrambling up behind you. "But only for a bit, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He stands to a salute instantly, demonstrating his understanding.

You unraveled your horses reins, rubbing her face lovingly before she kindly snorted all over you. Thanking her sarcastically, you looked over to the boy who still stood with proper posture.

Giving him a look, he questioned you back, unsure of what you were getting at.

"Your horse, boy, where's that at?"

He considered you for a moment, standing perfectly still before looking beside you and pointing at one of the critters tied up by the saloon.

Now you both stood there staring at eachother. Him, an innocent, mindless stare, and you, one that saw right passed it.

"So, you don't have one yet."

"Is there really any harm in taking from the bastards here?" He reasons, taking a stroll over there to examine his choices. "I'll take one who's ill-taken care of. It'll be like a good deed, no?"

"I aint got much of a problem with it, I suppose. Just don't get caught."

After you mounted, he had chosen his steed. A deep bay, not much bigger than your average quarter horse. A stallion, as it looked to be, was ribby and a bit weak looking. Under fed at best.

"You sure?" You affirmed, examining the horse and the Clarke boy.

"I'm sure. I like this one." He jumps on quickly, scanning behind him making sure the owner wasn't happening out of the bar.

"Right." You nod, kicking your horse into action, following the road out of Blackwater. "We got a long way to go."

You had heard rumors of another gang around these parts as of recent. Van Der Linde's gang. You knew of them, but hadn't run into them as of yet, and planned on keeping it that way. Especially now that you had this boy to keep alive.

Colm had always wanted you off anything that could potentially involve them. You were valuable with what you could perform and Colm wanted you to have no dealings with them.

"Where you takin' us?" The Clarke boy questions, no undertone of worry in his voice at the fact that he was leaving with a stranger. An outlaw at that.

"South." You relay after checking your small, brass compass. "Seein' a buddy of mine."

His new horse seemed to be having a bit of fit, perhaps due to the fact it was unsure of who was now on his back. The young boy seemingly more than capable to handle the tantrum.

His hands remained loose on the reins, patting the stallions neck, soothing him best he could.

Atleast the he had a handle on horses, you weren't sure about what else he had for skills, but you were sure to find out in time.

"Who's the buddy?" He questions, he wasn't afriad of asking too many questions.

You gave him a thoughtful look before deciding wether to tell him or not, though seeing as he would be meeting him soon enough, you let it be known. "Frank Heck."

"Frank Heck!" He repeats in a loud burst, completely focused in on you now. "You know the Frank Heck? The gunslinger?"

It was this particular reaction that had you afore contemplating. "I suppose so."

"How'd- how? You actually know him? The gunslinger Frank Heck!"

You sighed out deeply, leaving your reins loose to run your hands through your hair. You definitely were to have a case of hat head, bad at that.

"I mean!" He's positively gobsmacked. "I read stories about him, he's famous!"

"Why, yes he is. He's somethin'."

"I get to meet him? Really?"

"You do. Don't worry." You were tired, and unable to understand how he had so much energy at such a late time in the night.

You just needed to find a place that was safe enough for the both of you till morning.

-----

It didn't take long for you to realize that, your drowsy state from last night had your judgment lacking. Heavily.

You didn't have nearly enough supplies to get you to New Austin with the Clarke boy in tow.

It was enough to get you by - barely, but you'd both be sun baked human jerkies before getting all the way to Armadillo.

The sun just barely greeted the land around as you sat with the company of the crackling fire you had just revived.

Your horses snorted every so often, grazing on what little half dead grass there was around the edges of the plains. Your horse and Clarke's new ride got along well, which made things a bit better.

That boy was still sleeping soundly, on what looks to be rather uncomfortable. A saddle and dirt, but he made do. His mouth wide open, drooling on his saddle.

So far, you didn't mind the company, albeit the company did have quite a lot to say.

Mousing away from Colm and the rest of your gang was something you liked to indulge in as often as possible. Colm didn't like it so much at first, but eventually came to allow it once you did for him decent work.

Now on your mind was Frank. What has he been up to during the time you'd been away from eachother?

When you'd met him, you saw him as nothing more than the typical law hating gunslinger who dressed well enough to be gawked over. One who gambled with more than just money.

And now he offered you a way to spend your time that wasn't either traversing alone or traversing with O'Driscoll's.

While some of the men, like Cormac, were decent enough company, you didn't actively prefer their company.

Frank interested you and you, him.

When you had left, you mentioned you had business to attend to in Armadillo. He found himself relating, mentioning that he'd wait for you there.

You weren't entirely sure what would compell him to stay in a town like that, with the lives there being amongst the lowest you could come across.

Criminals of all kinds crawled about the place like fire ants to a hive, their presence easily detected by the pandemonium they caused. The Del Lobos also made their appearance quite often, the stars of the show. The scarlet fever outbreak helped none either.

"Aghh." Groaned the sleepy Clarke boy from behind you, effectively spooking you out of your thoughts.

He started coughing and spitting quite suddenly, for whatever reason for, was beyond you.

"Damn bug in my mouth!" Wiping his tongue off throughly.

"Put that in there for breakfast" You teased, pushing yourself up from the ground. "Figured you were hungry by the way your mouth was hangin' open."

"Did you really?" He gasps, staring down at the grasshopper who'd trespassed, crippled on the ground, twitching.

"I told you. Gang life isn't what you expected."

"You feed eachother grasshoppers whilst asleep?"

Teasing the boy was certainly something fun to do.

"It's how we care for eachother when food is sparse."

He watched you closely, trying to glean any deception on your face. "You're fibbin', I aint never read that in any of my books."

"Well, your first mistake is trusting those silly books. You usher him up with a gesture, to which he promptly obeys. "Your second is trusting a stranger."

"So you were fibbin'!"

"I might actually next time."

"I needn't that, Miss, dont worry." He was quick to relieve you of any such duties. "Hey, wait.."

You gave him a glance of acknowledgement, then continued packing your horse.

"What is your name anyway? You never did tell me." His curious nature reminded both yourself and him, that you'd never given him your name.

"Y/n L/n. You ain't oughta keep callin' me Miss, though." You answered, mounting your horse, now just waiting for Clarke.

"Payin' respect where respects due, Miss y/n." Nathaniel explained, "you were kind to me and took me in."

He watched the floor as he spoke, a long on him you couldn't quite place.

"Get on your horse, Clarke. I'm gonna tell you a story."

His was quick for his horse once you told him that. By the recollection of his books, stories were something that interested him.

"I'm all ears!" He chirps, his stallion quick to be by your horses side.

You click your horse forward to resume the direction you'd been traveling the night previous. "When I was younger, I wasn't so dissimilar to you. A bit older perhaps when I met someone who took me in."

He listened in intently, almost leaning out of his saddle for the rest that was to come.

"He was kind, at times, he gave me what I needed, clothed me, fed me... I'm here now because of it. But as it were, the man he seemed to be, was only ever temporary." Your speech drawed out at times as you recounted the earlier days of being with Colm O'Driscoll.

"I can't say he changed - that's who he always was. When I realized, I had already done myself in." You left the details bleak, the story flesh gapped, you didn't find yourself enjoying the retelling. "He did various things to me I wasn't fond of, but I did whats needed, and now I get off lightly at times. Like now."

"You can't just leave?" Nathaniel whispers, his voice at a lowest record volume.

"I try. Only ever temporary." You did your utmost to drive the point home that gang life was truly not something to be actively searching out for. "I do what I do for that gang, I have no choice, and I ain't want you nailed to the same chain."

He seemed to have a bit more understanding now, fiddling with his stallions hair as he pondered the words of warning.

You gave him his time to contemplate, shaking off the rest of the memories and regret that left your conscience heavy.

"Then what else is there for me to do? To live for?"

It hit you like a stream train. You quite honestly had nothing to say for a minute.

"My ma was a waitress, my pa, a retired Sheriff. They did their best with what we had but.." he hesitates, peering off into the cactus covered horizon. "It didn't last. So I had to figure something else out. Just, I don't know what now."

"You think bein' an outlaw is the only way?" You were light with any judgement.

"I think it'd give me something to do. I can get money, go west. That's where everyone keeps talkin' bout anyway."

The west. The golden west. That was the land of opportunity. A better path for the boy, no doubt, but the way he desired to aquire it, wasn't right.

"Keep yourself straight, kid. It wouldn't give you anything worth while to do."

---

Nathaniel was perfectly described as near ghastly, the time under the sun certainly showing it's toll on him now.

Just in the distance was the dim lights of Armadillo. It was comforting, in the sense that there was to be some sort of food and water. But the company on the other hand...

His eyes were shut, leaning back in his saddle, blind trust in both you and your horse. You gave him a pat on the shoulder, alerting him to the sight ahead.

"We're 'bout near our destination. You are aware of Armadillos reputation, right?"

"I read about it in the newspapers. It sounds exciting." Nathaniel announced proudly, as if this place was a party.

"Exciting?" You fret, unsure of just what exactly these books he'd been reading had been telling him. "Just stay close to me, and don't speak to anyone. I mean it."

"Whatever you say, Miss y/n. I swear to you."

Upon your arrival in town, the place wasn't nearly as quiet as Blackwater. Some occasional yelling, people of many various bearings spread about the desolate town.

You eyed Nathaniel, making sure he stayed close. Constantly scanning for anything that'd bring either of you harm, but also for a Frank.

"I'm so hungry.." He grumbles, rubbing his stomach as you dismounted and tied your horses.

"Me too, my boy, me too." You agree, your spurs jingling as you stepped up the stairs. "This place has food, but dont get too roused."

"You'll get me something?" He swiftly stomped up the stairs behind you and into the saloon to keep close.

"Well, seeing as you didn't like breakfast."

He snorts out a little snicker, taking a seat at the bar next to you. You could tell he was uncomfortable, his initial impression of the place hadn't come 'round like he wished.

The people of Armadillo gave you lot stares. The two of you sticking out particularly sorely.

You let him pick out what he wanted from the very sparse choices the bartender offered, ordering after him yourself a drink.

"Whats that stuff taste like anyway?" Nathaniel wondered aloud, his face getting much too close to your glass than it should be.

You flicked his hat up, having him scramble to keep it from flying off. "Like something you shouldn't be drinking-"

Two men interrupted your banter, Nathaniel's staunch attention now directed towards them.

"Hey, little lady." The man, rugged as a bear, leaning against the counter, stared a burning hole through you.

"She got a little boy here." Scoffs evily his partner, sure to add the observation.

"You aint from here, are you, amiga?" His voice heavy with a Spanish accent. You knew exactly what occupation he held by the gun belts adorning his chest.

You stayed quiet, observing him intently. You didn't want any trouble, especially not with Nathaniel in tow. He was thankfully keeping your rule in mind.

Their chuckles were sinister and breathy as they surveyed you and Nathaniel. They weren't out to make friends, hopefully not to kill either, but to intimidate.

The first Del Lobo raised his hand to touch your green scarf. Rubbing it between his fingers as he inspected it.

You'd forgotten to take the damn thing off, preoccupied with watching over Nathaniel.

His eyes met with yours as he stood over you menacingly, raising your chin up with his dirt smudged finger.

"Hey!" Nathaniel barks out his opposition, coming to a stand, his hand now resting on his revolver. "Don't you be touchin' her."

You sat him right back down, the two men reveling with the reaction they could get out of him.

"Keep your boy in check, eh? 'Fore he gets himself hurt." Hummed the first man, a sickly satisfied look in his dark eye. "You're an O’Driscoll, we dealt with ya before."

"Sure you understand we aint like visitors." Crowed the next, shorter and skinnier, yet just about as threatening.

"Why, surely that's not who I believe it to be." Came yet another voice, one soothing, a familiar silvery voice.

His hands laid themselves on your shoulders, a scent you could pick out anywhere quickly filling your nose. "My darlin', y/n!"

There was Frank. A sweet talker at times.

Nathaniel's eyes lit up as he saw the, well, in book terms, a legendary gunslinger, acting particularly comfy with you and nonetheless aloof as described in the texts. His whole body siezed with the whole situation, overwhelmed and not sure what he was to do with himself.

"Hello Frank," you greeted warmly, side eyeing the two men who seemed slighted by the abrupt arrival of this man. "I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever see you." You turn to embrace the man you thought of ever so fondly since you'd met him.

"Oh, I'd never mean to keep you waiting." he promptly apologized, "Now, what is it we arrange for you mannerly individuals?"